Chapter 6
Chapter Six
NEMESIS
“What are you doing?”
Richard looked up from his make-shift desk, which was balanced on one of the fort’s sturdy walls.
He had brought with him a lap desk, complete with paper, pen and ink, and was sitting on an upturned barrel with the desk on the ramparts, gazing out across the Great Sound towards Hamilton.
The clear blue waters glowed almost turquoise, and the sun suffused the azure sky with its golden light.
“Emily!” The air seemed brighter when she was near. “I did not hear you approach. I am writing to my cousin. I believe there is a ship leaving tomorrow and I would include some letters on it.”
“Is this your cousin, Will Darcy? You speak of him often.” She dusted off the companion to Richard’s barrel with a handkerchief and sat down facing him. “Tell me more about him.”
Richard could not keep the grin from his face.
“I imagine he would ask the same about you. He is my cousin and friend; we grew up together like brothers, being only two years apart in age and only twelve miles apart in the distance between our homes. I spent half my year with Will’s family, and he spent the other half with mine, at least until we were sent off to school.
But here, you might offer us some advice, for Will has a younger sister, and he has little enough experience with females! ”
“Whereas being female myself, I naturally possess every piece of knowledge regarding our sex.” She tutted at him in mock exasperation, but she spoke on. “Please, ask your question and I shall answer as best I can.”
He set before her the entirety of the matter, save the mention of names, and sat forward on his seat, forearms resting upon his knees as she debated the issue with herself.
Emily pinched her lips tight and then spoke slowly.
“Your cousin, I believe, was right to remove his sister from school, for what good can come to a young girl who is friendless and separated from her family? A better choice of school might have answered, but that cannot be repaired now. I do hope her new companion is as good and useful a woman as your cousin suggests. The right companion can be the making of a young lady, but the wrong one can lead to disaster.”
“Disaster?” This was not what he had expected to hear. “Surely the worst they can expect is no change!”
“One would hope so, yes,” Emily nodded. “But one must rely upon the good character of one’s companion. I have seen people of supposedly excellent character act terribly when their own interests are at play. How well did your cousin Darcy know this companion before engaging her for his sister?”
A thread of noise interrupted anything Richard might have had to say in response. He spun around on his chair to see some movement behind the low storage shed from which he had taken his barrel.
“Stand forward.” The lieutenant colonel was now in charge. A body crept forward from the shadows. “Major Weekes.” He met the other man’s steel-blue gaze with his brown one.
The major jerked a short salute.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Major? You are off duty now, are you not?”
Of course. It would be Weekes skulking about.
Weekes, who was one of the officers running the off-hours gaming tables. Weekes, who had hosted the wagering on the night that Richard had been sent over to disperse the players. Weekes, who was also Colonel Barrow’s secretary.
About thirty years of age and handsome, the major imagined himself a great success with the ladies.
There were few enough of such in the fort itself, but Somerset had a good population of young women of suitable age, and in Hamilton, across the Great Sound, there was enough society of quality to employ the servants with whom men of Weekes’ character liked to dally.
Richard had not heard of any connexions with the daughters of the elite there, although on the occasions when they had been in society together, he had seen Weekes dance with a great many young women from the town.
From Emily’s rigid shoulders as she sat beside him, it appeared that she was not one of his admirers.
But his rakish behaviour and involvement in gambling aside, there was something about the major that had bothered Richard almost from their first encounter.
He and Major Simmond seemed to be the sources of the animosity against Richard, the seeds from which the other men’s coldness grew.
Every tentative friendly gesture had been cut short at a glance from one of these two majors, and while Barrow commanded the men at their military duties, it appeared that Weekes and Simmond ruled where the colonel’s reach ended.
It had come as no surprise when Colonel Barrow confirmed that Weekes had, indeed, been one of the men whose hoped-for promotion had been denied in favour of Richard’s.
And it appeared he still held Richard personally to blame for the loss.
If there had been any chance of amending this situation, Richard’s refusal to gamble, and his role in breaking up that game so many months before at the colonel’s command, had well and truly destroyed it.
There was no affection between the men. There had been no words of discord or hints of insubordination, but Richard had the very strong notion that Weekes resented him deeply and would do anything to undermine his authority.
He still did not perfectly understand why. It could not be purely on account of the position Richard now held, could it?
For now, Major Weekes merely replied to Richard’s question, “The shipment of buttons has arrived from Hamilton. The colonel,” he bowed to Emily, “thought you might wish to know.” With another salute, he turned on his heels and departed.
Richard watched the blond head disappear down the steep stairs to the muster grounds below.
“He does not like you,” Emily’s words echoed his thoughts. “Be wary of him. I did not hear him climb the stairs.”
“No, neither did I. I fear he means trouble. Was he lurking behind the shed whilst we were talking? Is he hoping to gain information to use against me?”
Emily shook her head, brown wisps of hair that fell about her face bouncing beneath her large bonnet.
“I cannot say for certain. I do not like the man, but I have seen him do nothing wrong. He cannot have heard anything to use against you, surely. You have said nothing out of place, or that could cause anyone harm.” She paused for a moment and stared out over the sound.
“He was hopeful for your position,” she said at last.
“Yes, I know it.”
“Weekes had been requesting a higher rank for some time, but Father was most unhappy at the prospect. I know he could purchase such if he had the funds, but I suspect he has little to draw upon, with all that he loses at the gaming tables. There are rumours that he owes a lot of people a great deal of money, and yet his coffers always appear full. It is all deception, but no one has attempted to prove it. Father has always found Weekes, well, weak in some aspects of character, and he was not pleased to consider handing him such authority over the men.”
Richard nodded. “I can well believe this, from what I have seen with my own eyes. I would not have raised him to major, although I know he bought in at captain.” He stood and kicked the barrel, moving it forward some inches along the dry dust of the parapet.
“His resentment is bitter; I can almost taste it in the air.”
“When Father received the letter from London, telling of your request for a new posting, he was more than pleased to accept London’s suggestion.
It seemed a good way for Father to keep Major Weekes in his current rank whilst being able to claim no part of the decision.
I had hoped—as had Father—that the major would accept your station here as a fait accompli and would not object. ”
“And he has not.”
“No. Not in words. But still, I distrust him.”
Richard turned to face her fully. “As do I.”
They stood in silence for a while, contemplating the scenery and Major Weekes, before Emily asked, “What of the buttons? Have you been reassigned to the position of mantua-maker?”
“Lord, no!” His laugh came from his belly.
This was a welcome change of topic. “We are to teach our soldiers how to sew, it seems. All the buttons on their coats must be replaced, for the old ones have rough metal edges which fray the thread. And so, to prevent the threads holding them in place from being broken, we must deliberately cut them all and replace them with a new model, which may make little difference. This is how we are to spend our time, thanks to the wisdom of Whitehall!”
“You may castigate the colonel at dinner,” Emily replied, “for my task here today was to offer the invitation.”
“With thanks to Mrs Barrow and the colonel, I shall accept.”
April 14, 1811
Dear Richard,
I thank you for your words of advice, and those from Miss Barrow as well, concerning Georgie and Mrs Younge.
You write warmly of Miss Barrow, and knowing your own sensible nature, I must accept your commendation of her words as worthy of your own thoughts.
Indeed, you write a great deal of her as well, and I am pleased you have found so good a friend in a place where you expected none.
I shall not ask if you have further intentions towards her, for I know you say you have none, as she has none towards you.
Still, many a happy marriage is based on friendship rather than passion.
But I shall say no more, for I can see you about to crush this paper in your fist.
I am not one to spend my time at soirees and routs and thus have heard little about Mrs Younge other than that which I was able to determine from her references and from Mrs North, who recommended her to me.
I have had no reason as of yet to distrust her character, and Georgie seems happier than I have seen her in many a year.
Thus, I must continue to place faith in the lady.