P. James - Death Comes to Pemberley

It was taken for granted both by the family and the parish that Mr and Mrs Darcy and their household would be seen in the village church of St Mary at eleven o’clock on Sunday morning. The news of Captain Denny’s murder had spread with extraordinary rapidity and for the family not to appear would have been an admission either of involvement in the crime or of their conviction of Mr Wickham’s certain guilt. It is generally accepted that divine service affords a legitimate opportunity for the congregation to assess not only the appearance, deportment, elegance and possible wealth of new arrivals to the parish, but the demeanour of any of their neighbours known to be in an interesting situation, ranging from pregnancy to bankruptcy. A brutal murder on one’s own property by a brother by marriage with whom one is known to be at enmity will inevitably produce a large congregation, including some well-known invalids whose prolonged indisposition had prohibited them from the rigours of church attendance for many years. No one, of course, was so ill bred as to make their curiosity apparent, but much can be learnt by the judicious parting of fingers when the hands are raised in prayer, or by a single glance under the protection of a bonnet during the singing of a hymn. The Reverend Percival Oliphant, who had before the service paid a private visit to Pemberley House to convey his condolences and sympathy, did all he could to mitigate the family’s ordeal, firstly by preaching an unusually long, almost incomprehensible sermon on the conversion of St Paul, and then by detaining Mr and Mrs Darcy as they left the church in so protracted a conversation that the waiting queue, impatient for their luncheon of cold meats, contented themselves with a curtsey or a bow before making for their carriage or barouche.

Lydia did not appear, and the Bingleys stayed at Pemberley both to attend her and to prepare for their return home that afternoon. After the disarray that Lydia had made of her garments since her arrival, arranging her gowns in the trunk to her satisfaction took considerably longer than did the packing of the Bingleys’ trunks. But all was finished by the time Darcy and Elizabeth returned for luncheon and by twenty minutes after two o’clock the Bingleys were settled in their coach. The final farewells were said and the coachman cracked the reins. The vehicle lurched into movement, then swayed down the broad path bordering the river, down the incline in the long drive and disappeared. Elizabeth stood looking after the coach as if she could conjure it back into sight, then the small group turned and re-entered the house.

In the hall Darcy paused, then said to Fitzwilliam and Alveston, “I would be grateful if you would join me in the library in half an hour. We are the three who found Denny’s body and we may all be required to give evidence at the inquest. Sir Selwyn sent a messenger after breakfast this morning to say that the coroner, Dr Jonah Makepeace, has ordered it for eleven o’clock on Wednesday. I want to be clear if our memories agree, particularly about what was said at the finding of Captain Denny’s body, and it might be useful to discuss generally how we should proceed in this matter. The memory of what we saw and heard is so bizarre, the moonlight so deceptive, that occasionally I have to remind myself that it was real.”

There was a murmur of acquiescence and almost exactly on time Colonel Fitzwilliam and Alveston made their way to the library where they found Darcy already in possession. There were three upright chairs set at the rectangular map table and two high buttoned armchairs, one each side of the fireplace. After a moment’s hesitation, Darcy gestured to the new arrivals to take those, then brought over a chair from the table and seated himself between them. It seemed to him that Alveston, sitting on the edge of his seat, was ill at ease, almost embarrassed, an emotion so at variance with his customary self-confidence that Darcy was surprised when Alveston spoke first, and to him.

“You will, of course, be calling in your own lawyer, sir, but if I can be of any help in the meantime, should he be at a distance, I am at your service. As a witness I cannot, of course, represent either Mr Wickham or the Pemberley estate, but if you feel I could be of use, I could impose on Mrs Bingley’s hospitality for a little longer. She and Mr Bingley have been kind enough to suggest that I should do so.”

He spoke hesitantly, the clever, successful, perhaps arrogant young lawyer transformed for a moment into an uncertain and awkward boy. Darcy knew why. Alveston feared that his offer might be interpreted, particularly by Colonel Fitzwilliam, as a ploy to further his cause with Georgiana. Darcy hesitated for only a few seconds, but it gave Alveston a chance quickly to continue.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam will have had experience of army courts martial and you may feel that any advice I could offer would be redundant, particularly as the colonel has local knowledge, which I lack.”

Darcy turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I think you will agree, Fitzwilliam, that we should take any legal help available.”

The colonel said evenly, “I am not and have never been a magistrate, and I can hardly claim that my occasional experience of courts martial qualifies me to claim expertise in civil criminal law. As I am not related to George Wickham, as is Darcy, I can have no locus standi in this matter except as a witness. It is for Darcy to decide what advice would be useful. As he himself admits, it is difficult to see how Mr Alveston could be of use in the present matter.”

Darcy turned to Alveston. “It would seem an unnecessary waste of time to be riding daily between Highmarten and Pemberley. Mrs Darcy has spoken to her sister and we all hope that you will accept our invitation to remain here at Pemberley. Sir Selwyn Hardcastle may require you to defer your departure until the police investigation is finished although I hardly feel he would be justified after you have given evidence to the coroner. But will not your own practice suffer? You are reputed to be exceptionally busy. We should not accept help to your detriment.”

Alveston said, “I have no cases requiring my personal attendance for another eight days, and my experienced partner could keep routine matters running smoothly until then.”

“Then I would be grateful for your advice when you feel it is appropriate to give it. The lawyers who act for the Pemberley estate deal mostly with family matters, chiefly wills, the purchase and sale of property, local disputes, and have as far as I know little if any experience of murder, certainly not at Pemberley. I have already written to tell them what has happened and will now send another express to let them know of your involvement. I must warn you that Sir Selwyn Hardcastle is unlikely to be cooperative. He is an experienced and just magistrate, minutely interested in the detective processes normally left to the village constables and watchful always for any intrusion on his powers.”

The colonel made no further comment.

Alveston said, “It would be helpful – at least I would find it so – if we could first discuss our initial response to the crime, particularly having regard to the defendant’s apparent confession. Do we believe Wickham’s assertion that he meant by his words that if he hadn’t quarrelled with his friend, Denny would never have stepped out of the chaise to his death? Or did he follow Denny with murderous intent? It is largely a question of character. I have never known Mr Wickham but I understand that he is the son of your late father’s steward and that you knew him well as a boy. Do you, sir, and the colonel believe him capable of such an act?”

He looked at Darcy who, after a moment’s hesitation, replied, “Before his marriage to my wife’s younger sister we rarely met for many years and never afterwards. In the past I have found him ungrateful, envious, dishonest and deceitful. He has a handsome face and an agreeable manner in society, especially with ladies, which procure him general favour; whether this lasts on longer acquaintance is a different matter but I have never seen him violent or heard that he has been guilty of violence. His offences are of the meaner kind and I prefer not to discuss them; we all have the capacity to change. I can only say that I cannot believe that the Wickham I once knew, despite his faults, would be capable of the brutal murder of a former comrade and a friend. I would say that he was a man averse to violence and would avoid it when possible.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “He confronted rebels in Ireland to some effect and his bravery has been recognised. We have to grant his physical courage.”

Alveston said, “No doubt if there is a choice between killing or being killed he would show ruthlessness. I do not mean to disparage his bravery, but surely war and a first-hand experience of the realities of battle could corrupt the sensitivities of even a normally peaceable man so that violence becomes less abhorrent? Should we not consider that possibility?”

Darcy saw that the colonel was having difficulty in controlling his temper. He said, “No man is corrupted by doing his duty to his King and country. If you had ever had experience of war, young man, I suggest you would be less disparaging in your reaction to acts of exceptional bravery.”

Darcy thought it wise to intervene. He said, “I read some of the accounts of the 1798 Irish rebellion in the paper, but they were only brief. I probably missed most of the reports. Wasn’t that when Wickham was wounded and earned a medal? What part exactly did he play?”

“He was involved, as was I, in the battle on 21st June at Enniscorthy when we stormed the hill and drove the rebels into retreat. Then, on 8th August, General Jean Humbert landed with a thousand French troops and marched south towards Castlebar. The French general encouraged his rebel allies to set up the so-called Republic of Connaught and on 27th August he routed General Lake at Castlebar, a humiliating defeat for the British Army. It was then that Lord Cornwallis requested reinforcements. Cornwallis kept his forces between the French invaders and Dublin, trapping Humbert between General Lake and himself. That was the end for the French. The British dragoons charged the Irish flank and the French lines, at which point Humbert surrendered. Wickham took part in that charge and was then engaged in rounding up the rebels and breaking up the Republic of Connaught. This was bloody work as rebels were hunted down and punished.”

It was obvious to Darcy that the colonel had given this detailed account many times before and took some pleasure doing so.

Alveston said, “And George Wickham was part of that? We know what was involved in putting down a rebellion. Would not that be enough to give a man, if not a taste for violence, at least a familiarity with it? After all, what we are trying to do here is to arrive at some conclusion about the kind of man George Wickham had become.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “He had become a good and brave soldier. I agree with Darcy, I can’t see him as a murderer. Do we know how he and his wife have lived since he left the army in 1800?”

Darcy said, “He has never been admitted to Pemberley and we have never communicated, but Mrs Wickham is received at Highmarten. They have not prospered. Wickham became something of a national hero after the Irish campaign and that ensured that he was usually successful in obtaining employment, but not in keeping it. Apparently the couple went to Longbourn when Mr Wickham was unemployed and money was scarce, and no doubt Mrs Wickham enjoyed visiting old friends and boasting about her husband’s achievements, but the visits seldom lasted beyond three weeks. Someone must have been helping them financially, and on a regular basis, but Mrs Wickham never explained further, and nor, of course, did Mrs Bingley ask. I am afraid that is all I know, or indeed wish to know.”

Alveston said, “As I have never met Mr Wickham before Friday night, my opinion of his guilt or innocence is based not on his personality or record, but solely on my assessment of the evidence as it is so far available. I think he has an excellent defence. The so-called confession could mean nothing more than his guilt at provoking his friend to leave the chaise. He was in liquor, and that kind of maudlin sentimentality after a shock is not uncommon when a man is drunk. But let us look at the physical evidence. The central mystery of this case is why Captain Denny plunged into the woodland. What had he to fear from Wickham? Denny was the larger and stronger man and he was armed. If it was his intention to walk back to the inn, why not take the road? Admittedly the chaise could have overtaken him, but as I said, he was hardly in danger. Wickham would not have attacked him with Mrs Wickham in the chaise. It will probably be argued that Denny felt constrained to leave Wickham’s company, and immediately, because of disgust for his companion’s plan to leave Mrs Wickham at Pemberley without her having been invited to the ball, and without giving Mrs Darcy notice. The plan was certainly ill mannered and inconsiderate, but hardly warranted Denny’s escape from the chaise in such a dramatic manner. The woodland was dark and he had no light; I find his action incomprehensible.