An Unlikely Acquaintance

Part 23

"Aha!"

In two quick moves, Mr Bennet had secured victory over his opponent, and despite his age and attitude, was not above rejoicing in his win.

"You see, Fitzwilliam, you were so preoccupied with the attack that you forgot to defend your position." He peered over the rim of his spectacles at Richard, his gaze gently mocking. "I trust you have never made such an error on the battlefield."

"Not to my knowledge, no," Richard said, with a self-deprecating laugh. "Although there are more brains than just mine to do the strategizing on the battlefield." He sighed. "No doubt better men than me to make the decisions."

Mr Bennet did not reply, and, absent of conversation for a moment, Richard fell to restoring the chessboard.

"Shall we play again?"

He had called at Longoburn solely to play a game or two of chess against his new friend and had been welcomed with an enthusiasm that belied their short acquaintance. Richard had to admit there was something so very comfortable about such a greeting, being ushered with paternal delight across the threshold of Mr Bennet's small study, crowded with furniture and books and papers on every surface. Richard itched to tidy something, to import a little order, but space was not his to arrange and instead, he focused his attention on placing each chess piece on its square with care.

"No, I think I shall not allow myself to be goaded into further conflict." Mr Bennet chuckled. "No doubt my victory will be short-lived, for I am quite convinced you shall beat me next time. I am an old man, Fitzwilliam, let me nurse a feeling of superiority over someone younger and braver for at least a little while."

Richard laughed, ceding the point, and once he had restored order to their chess set, he leaned back in his chair, allowing his hands to rest at his sides.

"It was good of you to come, Richard." Mr Bennet's eyebrows quirked. "You do not mind my calling you by your first name?" he waved a hand. "I have no patience for titles, and if we are friends we might as well speak as friends."

Richard smiled, more pleased than he dared admit to hear his name spoken with such fondness. He felt a pang of grief for the father who had passed away more years ago than he cared to mention but swallowed it in a nod.

"I say rather it was good of you to invite me." He chuckled. "Your company is far preferable to many of the men at the barracks."

"Oh?"

Richard hurried to explain.

"They are good men," he said, quickly. "That is, most of them are good. But I am at a disadvantage. I am not one of them, you see, but their superior." He grimaced. "And a strange, new superior to most of them. I have not the benefit of Colonel Forster's years, nor the equality of a fellow recruit." He sighed. "It leaves one rather lonely, for either soldiers seek to curry favour and are thus too insipid and ingratiating to tolerate, or they treat one simply as one's commanding officer and are incapable of being at their ease. If not for Wickham -" He paused, too late to swallow the offending name, and saw a shadow cross Mr Bennet's face.

"You and Mr Wickham knew each other before you arrived here, I believe?"

"We did." Richard would not be drawn further on the past acquaintance he shared with George Wickham. He had not forgotten all that had happened between them, and whilst Wickham was eager to bandy around their friendship as if it were a genuine one, Richard still did not quite trust him. He was his friend so long as it suited his purpose, and he thought it likely that Wickham viewed him similarly. If only I knew what that purpose was! His own was plain. George Wickham charmed the men as easily as he charmed impressionable young ladies, and Richard needed him if he wished to maintain any degree of popularity with - or obedience from - his inherited regiment. But what did Wickham want from him, other than silence on his past indiscretions? It is not for Wickham's sake I stay silent, but for Georgiana's. And my own...

Mr Bennet cleared his throat and Richard started, conscious that he had been silent a good long while and while he had been lost in thought his friend had been surveying him, carefully deducing the direction of his thoughts from the pattern of his features.

"You know I think highly of you, Richard," Mr Bennet said again, the emphasis on Richard's Christian name unconscious or unnoticed, but not by Richard, who was so used to hearing his name spoken with disdain by his brother, when it was spoken at all. "I shall consider any friend of yours a friend of our family's. So Wickham." He steepled his fingers, leaning forward and peering over them at Richard. "You vouch for him? His character, I mean?"

He did not say what Richard knew he meant. Can I trust his friendship with my daughters? And truthfully, Richard was unsure what answer he could give to such a question. He had trusted Wickham around a young lady he bore some responsibility for and look what had come of that!

"Wickham is..."

Richard was saved from saying precisely what he thought of his old friend by a sharp knock at the door, and Mr Bennet leaned back in his seat, shooting him the tiniest of silencing glances before beckoning the knocker to come in.

"Ah, Jane!"

The change in Mr Bennet's demeanour was instantaneous and absolute, and the change on Jane's features when she noticed her father was not alone in his study was equally stark.

"Oh! Father, forgive me. I did not realise you had a visitor. Good afternoon, Colonel Fitzwilliam."

Richard had leapt to his feet upon her arrival, sending his chair scraping noisily back across the parquet floor and knocking over a pile of books balanced precariously behind him. His attempt to bow in greeting to Miss Bennet became a scramble on the floor to retrieve the books that soon went flying in all directions.

"Leve them," Mr Benne said, with an airy laugh. "I am forever knocking things over in this room. The servants will see to them."

Richard was not entirely sure this was true. He had seen but one servant that afternoon, and they had been so overworked the strain had shown in their darkened features.

"No problem." He stood, a little breathless from surprise and exertion, and righted the pile to where it belonged, before turning to greet Jane properly. "Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. I hope I did not startle you?"

"I rather fear I startled you," Jane said, with a merry smile, nodding towards a book that Richard had missed and waiting for him to stoop to retrieve it. "I merely wondered, Papa, if you wished to take a turn about the terrace with me. I have been resting my foot all morning - it is why I sent the girls out to Meryton without me - and I am eager for a little fresh air, although I do not dare to walk far, and not without an escort, in case -"

Her words tumbled out one after another before trailing off and Richard noticed a flush of colours stain her delicate cheeks, wondering if she regretted making her suggestion with him present. He snatched up his hat, ready to formulate a quick excuse and bid the pair farewell, allowing father and daughter to walk with one another, but Mr Bennet stopped him.

"I am quite content to remain where I am, Jane, but I am sure Richard will be only too happy to walk a few steps with you. You do not mind, do you?" He did not look at Richard as he asked this, offering his young friend no option to refuse and so all that remained was for Richard to bow a third time, to smile and to reassure Jane Bennet that there was nothing at all he would rather do at that moment than walk a few steps with her along the Longbourn terrace if she did not mind having him and not her father by her side.

"Not at all," she said, her voice soft and shy beneath her reddened cheeks and bright eyes. "I should like it very much."