An Unexpected Ally

Part 15

Darkness had descended over Meryton by the time Fitzwilliam Darcy arrived at the inn specified by his cousin. His pride rankled a little at being summoned by letter, and he had been tempted to send a refusal by return, merely to put off having to see Richard that evening. He had been unable to think of a suitable cause, though. Richard knew he was alone at Netherfield, and he further knew that any work Darcy undertook while absent from both London and Pemberley could be delayed by an hour or two. Furthermore, his curiosity gnawed away at him, rendering him useless for most of the day. How could he hope to proceed without being driven mad if he did not take this opportunity to question his cousin about what he had seen - or thought he had seen - that morning in Meryton?

Explain to me how you can stand around and talk to Wickham as if he were a friend and not a sworn enemy to us both. Explain how you have not warned Mr Bennet, Jane, Elizabeth - Elizabeth! - of the risk they take in pursuing a friendship with him.

In truth, this caused him as much if not more pain than all the rest. Darcy well recalled the annoyance with which his warning of caution regarding George Wickham had been received by Elizabeth Bennet. She judged him for warning her at all and had Richard said even a word in tune since then, with or without Darcy there to witness it, it would have gone a good way in repairing things between them.

This is not about Elizabeth, he reminded himself, although he was forced to swallow the feeling that almost everything he did of late was about Elizabeth in some shape or form. Taking one last, fortifying breath he pushed open the door to the noisy, crowded inn and stepped inside, shedding his coat and hat and scanning the interior for the familiar shape of his cousin. At last, he spied Richard, sitting at a table in a quieter corner of the inn, nursing a glass of ale and perusing a stack of papers. He looked up as he sensed Darcy approach.

"You came!"

"You asked me to." Darcy could hear the gruffness in his voice as he sat down, but Richard did not seem to notice it. He happily folded his stack of papers into a leather case and slid it onto an empty chair between them.

"I hear you were in Meryton earlier today!" Richard smiled, oblivious to the scowl Darcy could feel settling over his features. "What a shame you could not spare a quarter-hour to call at the barracks."

Darcy stared at him in disbelief. Did he have no idea that Darcy had, indeed, spared a quarter-hour and walked to the barracks with a mind to call on his cousin? Did he even consider what Darcy had witnessed that prevented him from going ahead with it?

"It matters not," Richard continued, his smile dimming slightly in the face of Darcy's scowl. "For we can dine together now. I trust you do not mind this place? It hardly compares with Netherfield, I dare say, even when you dine alone. But I have come here often since my tenure at Meryton began and I have to say I have grown to like the place." He waved over the proprietor and placed an order for them both. Darcy still had not spoken a word beyond his first greeting.

"I have been drowning in reports all day!" Richard confessed. "I swear, I almost miss fighting at the front. At least then one could be a man of action and when was not, one could be at liberty to rest. In my position at the barracks, there is always writing to be done or reports to be read." He pulled a face. "And we both recall how I excelled in my schooling as a boy."

Darcy said nothing, thinking over his own afternoon. He had stewed for much of it, driven to distraction as he thought over Richard's apparent friendship with Wickham and striven to put a positive - and then not so positive - slant on it. At last, he had sat at his desk and penned a letter he had put off writing, scrawling out a hasty note to Charles that he had dispatched to London almost before the ink had dried. He had not written to Georgiana, and now, faced with Richard, he rather regretted doing either.

"Come, Darcy! It is not such a hardship to spare me an hour and eat together, is it?" Richard laughed, but the sound grew desperate when it received nothing but a stony glare in response. "You have scarcely said a word." His cousin's features fell. "You are not unwell, I hope?"

"Not unwell, no." Darcy leaned his elbows on the table, folding one hand into the other, and resting his chin on them both to fix his cousin with a level stare. "A little confused..."

"Confused?" Richard grinned, sensing the beginning of a joke. "Well, share your thoughts, and let us see if between us we might puzzle out a solution!"

"I came to the barracks earlier."

Richard had lifted his glass to his drink and was partway through taking a sip as Darcy said this. The liquid caught in his throat as he swallowed and he coughed once or twice to get it down.

"You did? I was not told."

"I did not call." Darcy could hear the bitter note in his voice and wished he could rid himself of the anger he felt towards his cousin. There would be an explanation, surely? There must be. Of all people, Darcy knew he could trust the man opposite him. At least, I thought I could.

"I saw you speaking with George Wickham."

The delivery had been flat, devoid of all emotion, yet still it seemed to weigh heavily in the air between the two cousins.

"Ah." Richard said at last. He reached for his glass again, taking a hasty sip. "You saw me speaking with Wickham." He paused. "Well, you know, Darcy, we have been forced to speak to one another from time to time. It is not my choice, I confess, but he is my subordinate officer, and -"

"You seemed more like friends than colleagues." Darcy shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose it is easy to forget what the man did when you are not forced to see the impact he had on Georgiana day after day." His voice dropped. "When you have not lived half your life being plagued by him."

Richard's face paled but he said nothing.

"Wickham is not to be trusted," Darcy said. "I thought we were on the same page about that."

"Wickham is not to be trusted," Richard repeated, slowly nodding in agreement. His expression soured. "Are you suggesting that I am also not to be trusted?"

Darcy said nothing, unsure how to formulate a reply that would not catch the angry glint in his cousin's eyes and escalate it. Silence seemed entirely adequate to the task though and Richard let out a bark of bitter laughter, leaning back in his chair.

"I see. You have decided that because I was forced to speak to the man - forced by my job, mind you, and forced to do so on your behalf, I might add - that I am part of some great scheme against you." Richard shook his head. "I know we have not been in close contact of late, Darcy, but did I not do everything in my power to help you resolve matters with Georgiana? Have we not always been friends as well as cousins? But you have made your mind up about me after witnessing a conversation - part of a conversation - and are not even willing to let me explain myself."

"What explanation can you give? You associate freely with George Wickham. You have dined with him at Longbourn." Here Darcy could feel pain flash across his face and strove to remain neutral. "Your presence together has vouchsafed for him to be welcomed there as a friend when we both know he is not to be trusted."

"Do you think I am to be trusted, Darcy?" Richard's voice had grown low and bitter, tinged with hurt. "You have not properly congratulated me upon my engagement to Jane. You seem surprised that it has happened at all. I dare say you think she marries below her status in choosing me. Or perhaps I am daring to make my own decisions without consulting you, the great Fitzwilliam Darcy, on every detail of my choice. You consider yourself an authority on everything but when have you ever had to struggle for anything in your life?"

Richard pushed his chair back from the table and stood, stopping to grasp his case of reports.

"I think I shall dine at the barracks this evening. Enjoy your meal." He did not wait for Darcy to make any kind of reply but stalked from the inn without a backward glance.