Richard sighed. “You think he is at the gaming tables? I haven’t time to remain long, but if you are correct that the man is here, then perhaps it is my duty. What did you say his name was?”
“Lieutenant Wickham, sir.”
Richard felt his features settling into a wooden mask. He stared fixedly, unblinking, as he breathed, “GeorgeWickham.”
“So you are acquainted with him! I say, that may not bode well, if he also knows you,” Harker laughed. “Did you know he had gone into our ranks?”
Richard shook his head very slightly, his response more felt as an afterthought than an act of conscious will. “I knew nothing of his commission. I had heard some report of his debts and his subsequent marriage. Some foolish girl he bamboozled into a carriage and merrily ruined, no doubt.”
“Ah, just so! The half-witted strumpet! Oh, she was a wild one, make no mistake, and not a virtue to recommend her. I shouldn’t wonder that he has left her to the brothels by now.”
Richard’s jaw went slack.Another casualty of that scoundrel!“And all this time, you’ve had no word of his whereabouts?” he demanded sharply.
“Well… no, sir. The house mistress where he lodged when I first met him would speak nary a word. There was that wealthy friend of his, I thought to inquire there, but it seems the fellow up and died, and none there would make comment. ‘Tis not for lack of searching, Colonel. Wickham seems to have friends everywhere to whom he owes money, and for some reason they persist in thinking the rogue will pay up so they keep quiet. The best information I’ve heard put him at the betting tables here, though I’d have thought the stakes too high for one of his means.”
“Oh, I am certain that the Lieutenant collected handsomely on his marriage, if I know the character of his ‘sponsor’ at all.” Richard’s jaw flexed, his nostrils distended in loathing. What he would give to rattle George Wickham’s miserable brain about in his addled skull! It would never amend that cad’s ways, but it might exhaust some of his pent-up fury over Darcy’s last hours—if such they truly were.
What had ever persuaded his cousin to at last attempt to force Wickham into a life of respectability? The girl? She could have been no one of Darcy’s acquaintance, by Harker’s description of her. Had it all been an elaborate trap by Wickham after all, and the hapless girl merely the bait to draw Darcy out? Oh, but if it was a fortune Wickham had in mind, why settle for a pittance when he could have found a wealthier young lady, or remained to extort more from Darcy? No, something was still missing.
He held a silent conversation with himself, his eyebrows twitching and his head shaking as first one idea, then the next flitted through his consciousness and was dismissed. Harker would have good reason to think him touched in the head if he continued, so with some reluctance he drew himself up and adopted an air of command. “Well, let us see if the rascal is here, as you say, Harker. Which way did you suspect?”
Harker led him to the back tables, and as men who had once fought side by side, they wordlessly broke company to approach the rooms from opposite ends. In the end, it availed them little, for George Wickham was not to be found. Either he had sensed their approach and scampered like a frightened rabbit, or the rumours of his presence had been grossly exaggerated. Richard halted after the last table, a truly terrifying scowl settling over his face as he glared over the expanse he had already checked.
“Bad luck, sir,” Harker spoke at his shoulder. Richard only grunted.
“Well, sir, I am much obliged to you for your help. I’m back to Newcastle on the morrow, but you’ll send word if you hear of him?”
“Indeed, Captain. I trust you will do the same. I believe I should like to speak with Mr Wickham myself when he is found, and I hope to have an opportunity to do so before your colonel stretches his worthless neck.”
Harker grinned and saluted. “I will pass on your request. Fare thee well, sir.”
Richard answered smartly, but his mind was already returning to the letter in his pocket. “The same to you, Harker.”
He hailed a chair, ensconcing himself within the privacy of the darkened little shelter as the door closed and the horse set out. Broderick was as concise as ever, but the sparse words scrawled over the page caused his heart to thrum until George Wickham was entirely forgotten.
Sir,
I have information from the docks. A ship called the Sonho do Mar returned to port today, and I witnessed two of its hands seeking out our friends on B— Ln. Money exchanged hands and our friends immediately set out for the north. I have another following them.
You may well remember the name of the Sonho do Mar, for it was one of the departing ships listed from August 29. It was this association which I thought made our friends’ actions peculiarly interesting. I would surmise that another errand has been requested of them.
I will report once I have further word of their destination.
Richard scanned the words again and again, verifying to his disbelieving eyes what he feared and hoped in the same breath. How had he missed this before? The ship’s name—had he been so blind and overwhelmed that he had not recognised it? For he knew the ship, and its home port. He knew the owner, and something of that man’s agenda.
The note dropped to his knee in an ice-cold hand as he stared at the polished tip of his boot, his mind a torrent. That merchant ship belonged to a man—no, an entire family—whom he had never expected to see again. António Moniz de Noronha.
Chapter fifteen
Richardspentthewholeof that night afoot in various quarters of the city. Though he searched for word of Wickham, his objective had turned to Portugal. The link to Noronha had left him aghast and reeling. What possible connection might have existed between the Portuguese statesman and Darcy?
Noronha was a determined man, zealous for his nation and nearly fanatical regarding his family, but Richard could not yet accuse the man of malice against Darcy. Whatever his disagreements with the man, Richard knew him to be a gentleman. Violence was not his way, surely!
Yet, the coincidence of the same men being contracted for work by someone from Noronha’s ship was too strong for him to overlook. If Broderick had found nothing new within a few days, Richard saw little alternative but to embark for Portugal himself with his questions. How the devil was he to explainthisto his relations, and what to do about Georgiana if he went away?
His mind was a riot when at last he entered his own door, late the following morning. He had intended to secrete himself quietly in his chambers for his batman’s attentions and a few short hours of rest, but it so happened that he had arrived on the heels of one of his mother’s morning callers. The door to the sitting room was ajar, and the strident greetings in a vaguely familiar voice echoed up the staircase to him. Georgiana’s muted reply sounded next, and he did not like the strained quality of her tones.
Retreating back down the steps, he moved quietly to the door to listen.Ah. He closed his eyes in a pained grimace. He knew that caller’s voice. His instincts screamed out in self-preservation, urging him back from the door as discreetly as possible, but to leave Georgiana to the mercy of one Caroline Bingley was a matter beyond his own interests.
