An Unexpected Ally

Part 24

Richard's study at the Meryton barracks was small. That fact had never bothered him before. He was stoical and self-contained and saw no need for acres of space. Besides which, to have a room at all was a step-up from sleeping under canvas, and he had rather valued having a small, quiet space with which to withdraw, attend to his responsibilities and be alone.

That afternoon, however, he was certain the very walls were closing in on him.

A knock at the door made him look up from the letter he was writing so suddenly he spilt a drop of ink on the page. Cursing, he tried to blot away the worst of it and barked a terse response.

"Yes?"

The door swung open and George Wickham strolled in, beaming and oblivious to Richard's annoyance.

"What do you want?" Richard asked, wearily. He looked down at his letter, preferring to focus on that than Wickham's smug grin, and relishing the fact that it proved he was, in fact, busy and had no time to devote to whatever nonsense was top of Wickham's mind.

"I came to see how you are faring."

Wickham slid into the chair Richard did not offer him and leaned forward, peering at the ink-stained correspondence and noticing the agitation in his friend's movements.

"Not well, it seems."

"As ever you are adept in observing that which you have no business observing." Richard finished his letter quickly, signing it with a flourish and setting it aside. "And I know for a fact you have no human concern for any but yourself, so you need not act as if you are here only to enquire after my wellbeing." Richard winced at the word. He had been beyond well only a day previously. He had been happy. Thrilled at the thought of the future which awaited him and on good terms with everyone he met. Until Darcy came back. With him, his cousin had brought the striking reminder that Richard's wellbeing with the world would only last as long as his association with George Wickham remained concealed, and there had been an abject failure on his part to do just that.

"Very well," Wickham said, business-like at once. "I came to find out whether you have heard the same rumour I have heard." He drew a breath. "If you might be able to confirm whether it is fact or fiction." He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together and fixing his gaze expectantly on Richard.

"What?" Richard groaned at last, knowing he could not help asking but furious with himself all the same. He had fallen right into Wickham's trap. Again.

"News abroad is that Charles Bingley is back at Netherfield Park."

"Well, that is a lie." Richard shrugged his broad shoulders. "I was there just today and saw nobody but my cousin..." He trailed off, as a second and then a third thought occurred to him. He had seen nobody but Darcy, that was true, but he had not exactly been welcomed there. His access to the property had been limited to the study, and Darcy had come to him, never once suggesting they move to another room. Who was to say Charles Bingley had not been there, enjoying the comforts of the parlour while Richard was relegated to the study and hurried away again like a shameful intruder.

Wickham was watching him carefully and could not fail to have noticed the shadows that flickered across Richard's face as he considered all this. His lips quirked into a smile.

"According to my source, a carriage came hurrying back from London carrying Mr Bingley and his sister. Now, what do you suppose could be the reason for his sudden return?"

"I dare say he grew tired of London and missed Netherfield," Richard said, wearily.

"I say rather he had cause to hurry back when he heard of a certain engagement."

Richard frowned, looking up at him in disbelief.

"What should it matter to Charles Bingley to hear I am engaged? We are not close friends. I barely know the man."

"I concede it is likely he cares little to hear of your engagement in the abstract." Wickham's smile grew cruel. "But there is the small matter of who you have become engaged to."

Richard was still gripping tight hold of his quill-pen and forced himself to let go, lest he snap the thing in two. It dropped with a clatter onto the desk.

"He is acquainted with Jane? Well, why would he not be? They are neighbours."

"Rumour has it the two were more than a little acquainted." Wickham took great care in examining his nails, only too aware of the torture he was inflicting upon Richard by dropping tiny snatches of information like breadcrumbs. "People say there was an expectation that they would marry before he disappeared off to London at Christmas."

A muscle twitched in Richard's jaw. He could not be surprised by this news, surely? He certainly was not about to admit as much before George Wickham, in any case. Of course Jane had known people before him. And she was so beautiful, so elegant, so charming that it was unfathomable to think there had not been beaux in her past.

"Clearly, they reached no agreement," he ground out, praying Wickham would not sense how much of an effort it took for him to speak quietly, calmly, with a measure of peace he did not feel. "Jane was free to accept me, or not."

"Aye." Wickham nodded, sagely. "But I dare say she did not ever expect to see Charles Bingley again."

Richard's eyes narrowed, dangerously.

"You mean to suggest that she will break our engagement simply because he has come back to Netherfield? Take care, Wickham. You speak with complete disregard to a lady's character, and that will not be without consequence."

"Be calm, Richard!" Wickham chuckled. "I am not so impertinent as all that. I merely came to pose a question to you, if it is indeed true that Charles Bingley has hastened himself back here on account of things between you and Miss Bennet..." He paused. "Where do you suppose he might have learned of your engagement? Who do you think has summoned him back here? Spite, I call it..."

Richard's blood flashed hot in his veins. Darcy. No wonder his cousin had been avoiding him, reluctant to make up their argument of the other day. He bore a grudge over Wickham, but to seek to destroy the only happiness Richard had ever known...

Wickham spoke again, his voice smooth and tempting.

"You know I have your back no matter what. We have been through enough together, you and I..."

"You speak as if we are friends, Wickham. We are not friends. We work together now only because we must and be assured if I had the power to dismiss you, I would. Do not presume to know me, or to know what assistance I require -"

"Do you have friends enough that you can afford to discard me?" Wickham was serious now and drove his point home with bitter accuracy. "Your own cousin's loyalty seems questionable at best." He smiled, grimly. "But fear not. I will support you, whatever should happen next. You can trust me."