Georgiana and the Wolf

By DJ Clawson

Introduction: This is the seventh story in the "A Bit of Advice" series. You'll probably find it more interesting if you go catch up with the others, but this story is rare in that it stands somewhat alone if you're attempting to just read about a daughter of the Bingleys, though you may find her a bit odd.

For those of you returning, the setup of this story is a bit different from the rest. This is a mystery - more of "whydunnit" than a "whodunnit" - with a cast of mainly new characters. There are some cameos and mentions of relatives, but there are no Darcys to be found here. It's also relatively short in comparison to my previous stories, with longer (but fewer) chapters. If following Georgiana Bingley's year abroad isn't your thing, you can skip it, though it will be mentioned in the next story, which is my usual large cast saga.

Chapters posted twice weekly.

Note: You've seen Robert Audley before. He appeared very briefly in the beginning of Chapter 6 in "The Price of Family."

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Prologue

Inspector Robert Audley turned to the mortician and said with annoyance, "You are aware that the body should not have been moved until my approval?"

Monsieur Lambert was an elderly gentleman, and so was excused to sit in the corner of his dusty workshop. "Oui. But Inspector, you were not called when this body was found. You were not called for another day."

Audley frowned. "That is true," he said as he looked at the body again, partially uncovered by his own actions. The corpse of a man named Simon Roux was in a state of ready decomposition, now three days old. Monsieur Roux was found by a shepherd at dawn, and was already stiff by the description of the local guard, so all he had to pinpoint a time of death was that information. It was probably sometime in the early morning, while it was still dark, or the body would have stunk as it did now. Only the mortician's chemicals under his nose prevented Audley from being overwhelmed.

The inspector probed the wound on the dead man's neck. He had died quickly after his wounds, as no one survived a slash to the throat, much less three. "These marks – "

"Claws. Definitely."

"I agree," Audley said. "Not a blade, certainly, but have you ever seen three claw marks so evenly spaced?" He took a measurement of one with his forefinger and thumb, and then checked the next, and then the last. "That is very rare on a true animal wound. Also, strange that the animal merely killed him with one swipe and then left the body so intact otherwise."

Old Man Lambert said quietly, "It is odd, yes, Inspector. I have never seen anything like this before. Perhaps this is why you were called."

"Perhaps." He took a final look at the messy, bearded face of Simon Roux. By reputation, he was a known gambler who worked the fields in season and made his living by selling firewood the rest of the year. He was known to be good with a blade – or at least a hatchet – and one was found on him, unused, at the scene of the crime. Inspector Audley had barely been in town two hours and he already had the impression that the man was not well liked, at least by the female populace. "Were you called to the scene or was the body delivered here by your assistant?"

"I was called, Inspector."

"I will need a list of everyone present, even women and children, when you arrived. Was the marquis there?"

"Non, Inspector. He remained uninvolved until the ... rumors started spreading."

Which was when Inspector Audley had been called, by special request of the Marquis, and rode from Paris to his summons immediately. Normally he did not like to be approached about a case from a suspect, but apparently the nobility still held more sway than they were supposed to, because Audley was pulled off a significant strangler case on the docks to attend to this murder in the wilderness with a startling order from above.

Of course, logically, the Marquis was not a suspect. He had no known reason to kill Simon Roux, a man he was not known to associate with. If there were any connection, it was hidden – but Inspector Audley would find it out. That was his profession and his duty, even to a man like Simon Roux.

The meeting with the marquis was earlier than he expected, until he reminded himself that the country noblemen often ate earlier than city folk. He knew very well that the marquis would want to have him at dinner to parade around the fact that he had brought in (undoubtedly, at his own expense) this superior inspector to investigate the brutal crime. Inspector Audley was not bothered by it, as it would give him a terrific meal and a chance to see the local people in action, from the servants to the marquis himself.

The meeting between them took place precisely at four, when the inspector was often accustomed to taking tea. To his surprise, he was not asked to stand before the noble, who instead offered him a seat and a rather wide selection of flavored teas. "I heard, Inspector, that you are of English descent."

"Yes," he said. "My father was an officer. He retired here."

"In Paris?"

"Valognes," he said, making his selection quickly and waving off the servant with sugar cubes. He wanted to preserve his teeth. "He still lives there with my mother and sister."

"But you are the famed inspector of Paris." But the marquis was not an ostentatious noble of old, trying to flatter him openly. He was a quieter man, more intense and serious, almost frightening with his pointed nose and long black hair. He was a widower, but that was all the inspector had at the moment.

"Hardly," he said. "My lord, I am afraid I must of course begin with the most basic inquiry – "

"Of course," said the marquis. "I was asleep that night. I went to bed very late, being distracted by a new book. I will not deny that I am one to take walks along my lands in the early morning. I enjoy the morning mist, especially this time of year." He sipped his own tea. "Do you have a conclusion as to the time of death?"

Audley knew the man was clever, and also guessed that the marquis would likely tell if he was holding back. "Early morning, but likely, very early. Perhaps one, or two hours past midnight."

"Then I was asleep," the marquis said. "I do not know this man – Monsieur Roux?"

"Simon Roux, yes."

"I know of him only by reputation. He came to the village a few years ago, after the war, and never fully settled himself. He remained unmarried and was apparently a known womanizer. You know the type, surely?"

"I do." The war brought out the best – and worst – in men. Many were left scarred by it, unable to find their place in this new France, whatever it was to be. "Have you any idea of the foundation of these rumors concerning yourself and Monsieur Roux?"

"None whatsoever. It came as a shock to me, but what good free countryman is not ready and eager to discredit a noble? Even if to stoop so low as to start rumors about ... werewolves, or whatever this nonsense is." He paused. "You know, it was not even a full moon the night of his death."

"So you are aware of such legends?"

"Such are the things told to a child, especially one who lives so close to the woods. Wolves, vampires, witches – that sort of nonsense. I thought we got rid of that nonsense with the revolution, but apparently, not so."

"But somehow, someone started the rumor that you were seen running through the woods that night – or, someone with a wolf's head was seen in the woods wearing your clothing. Am I correct?"

"You are."

Audley made a note in his book. "Have you done an inventory of your wardrobe since the event?"

"No. I had not thought to do so until people seemed to be – taking these ridiculous rumors seriously." He smiled, and Audley could not help but notice his teeth were very pointy. "But – in the dead of night, I imagine one would only have to acquire one splendid coat to give the effect of appearing as me."

"True, but I would appreciate it if you do the inventory as soon as possible, perhaps even before dinner. If a servant can be rooted out, it will make our lives much easier."

"Of course. It will be done." The marquis rose. "If there are no other pressing questions, I must prepare for dinner. You have joined us on a very special evening, Inspector Audley."

"I have?" Audley said, rising with him.

"Yes. My bride – my intended bride – is joining us with her companion. She is studying in a seminary for English women very near here."

"Very convenient." The inspector could not help but look at the marquis and be reminded that this man was in his forties and a widower, and a seminary girl could have been hardly more than twenty.

"We are very distant relations. Our family planned this wedding years ago – hers in England, mine here – but I would not agree to it until I saw her and we felt it was a good match ourselves. So she came to study in the seminary that is but five miles from here, and I have arranged that she may occasionally visit."

"Her name?"

"Lady Heather Littlefield. You shall be introduced tonight, of course." He made motions to leave, and Inspector Audley bowed.

Something struck him. "My Lord – "

The marquis stopped in the doorway and politely turned around. "Yes."

"You said she had a companion?"

"Yes, her friend from school, who accompanies her so she is not alone in a carriage with the guard. I apologize – her name escapes me now. I am quite a bad host." He snapped his fingers. "Ah yes. I remember it."

The inspector readied his pen again. "Yes?"

"I believe it is – Miss Georgiana Bingley."

To Be Continued...