Chapter Fifty-Four
Longbourn
Lady Lucas and Maria came to Longbourn all but bursting with the shocking news – a militia man had been found dead in the alley behind the White Swan!
“Who was it?” Lydia demanded at once. “For we know a good many of them!”
“His name was Lieutenant Wickham,” Lady Lucas said, her voice high with the excitement of it all.
“Did we not meet him?” Kitty turned to Lydia. “Was he not the very good-looking one with fair hair and blue eyes?’
“Oh! I am certain it was he!” Lydia gasped. “He is dead? This is terrible!”
Lady Lucas had a good many details. He had been killed with a knife, straight through the heart.
There was an investigation underway, of course.
Evidently, he had left the White Swan in the company of another man, who had not been seen since.
Who was that man? No one knew; everyone who had been at the White Swan had been questioned, but no one had recognised the man.
What the motive might have been was the subject of a good deal of speculation. It was known that he had owed a good deal of money to his fellows, but no one man was owed enough to justify such an act.
“Besides,” Lydia said. “Once someone is dead, you would never get your money, would you? So surely it was not one of the men to whom he owed money!”
“A jealous husband,” Maria contributed. “He did dance with Mrs. Forster, do you not recall, Kitty?”
“Have some sense, Maria!” Lydia exclaimed. “Colonel Forster would not need to kill him, he could just transfer him somewhere else! Lizzy, did you not speak with him? I am certain that you did.”
It was all very exciting, and gave everyone a bit of a shiver to think that a murder had happened, right there in Meryton!
Elizabeth and Mary were careful not to look at one another, nor to do anything other than show the right amount of interest in the topic.
They were both relieved when Mrs. Bennet stood, all a-quiver, to announce the engagement of Jane and Mr. Bingley.
Poor Lieutenant Wickham was forgotten at once, as the conversation immediately moved to topics of interest to everyone in the room.
What would the bride wear? Who would stand up with her? Where might flowers be obtained? What would be served for the wedding breakfast? These were, when it came right down to it, far more interesting issues than the death of Lieutenant Wickham.
***
At Netherfield Park, however, the news was met rather differently. Mrs. Hurst had been in town that day, and had heard all about the shocking murder of one of their own militiamen.
“His name was Wickham,” she informed everyone at tea. “Lieutenant George Wickham! No one knows what happened, exactly, but the blame has been placed on an unknown man who followed him out of the pub.”
Mr. Bingley dropped his teacup.
A maid was summoned to clean up, but Mr. Bingley’s eyes did not leave Mr. Darcy’s face.
His eyes were questioning; Mr. Darcy answered the unvoiced question with one brief nod.
Once the hubbub had died down, Mr. Bingley cleared his throat.
“Well, it is a shame, but no doubt the constabulary will get to the bottom of it soon enough. Darcy, I had a meeting with the steward today; might you help me understand some of what was said?”
Mr. Darcy answered that he would be happy to do so, and the two were soon ensconced in Mr. Bingley’s study.
“It was not you, was it?”
“No.”
“The Colonel, then?”
Mr. Darcy remained silent.
“I see.” Mr. Bingley sat in silence for a minute, and then said, “Well, no doubt well-deserved. I shall think no more of it. Now, then, I am given to understand that two of the tenant cottages need new roofs…”