Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (21 page)

“What the hell are ye doing?” he asked.

She emerged from the puddle and walked back to the gate.

“If I had just walked home alone and without a lantern from Manchester, then my legs and feet wouldn’t be dry,” she pointed out. “My cousins are unobservant, but my brother is not. He would notice that sort of thing. I’d as soon he didn’t know about you and your friends, and I’m sure you would too.” She glanced up into the shadows, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

“Aye,” he said admiringly. “You’ll do.”

Then he turned his horse and cantered away down the green.

Beth watched him go, saw him spur his horse into a gallop as he reached the road, and illogically wished she was still mounted in front of him, riding back to the warmth of the room she had been so desperate to escape such a short time ago. Then she turned back to the Hall and braced herself to face the storm.

* * *

There were twenty men congregated around the front door, and they had just been issued with swords and lanterns. Richard had taken command of the search party and was issuing orders to them, which carried to Beth on the still night air as she walked unseen up the path, the sound of her feet crunching on the gravel drowned out by the noise of the men.

“It is likely that she either went into Manchester, or more likely to my house at Didsbury,” he was saying. “So you will split into two parties, each party to take one road. You will search all the ditches, and if you should come upon my sister in the company of her assailants you are not to commit any action that would endanger her life.”

His voice was clear, authoritative, demanding of obedience, and she would have been comforted by his words had she not known that his primary concern was not for her person, but for her dowry.

She emerged out of the shadows of the drive like a ghost.

“I am all right,” she said, loudly and clearly. Several of the men jumped violently, and all of them turned in her direction. A momentary expression of the utmost relief crossed her brother’s features, followed by another of absolute fury. She shivered, and not only from the cold which was seeping through her still damp clothes and settling in her bones.

“Where the hell have you been?” he said, his voice tight. There was not a trace of affection in his voice, only an icy, barely restrained rage.

I have spent the day in Manchester. I intended to return much earlier than this, but I lost my way,” she replied, her voice containing a calmness she was far from feeling.

“Do you realise how much trouble you’ve caused?” he roared. She felt her temper rise to match his but knew that it was partly fuelled by guilt, and swallowed it back down.

“Have you been hurt in any way, Miss?” one of the men asked the question her brother should have asked. She smiled gratefully up at him, recognising him as one of the men who waited at table.

“No, Samuel, thank you. I am perfectly well. Just a little cold and tired.”

Richard glared at Samuel, who was oblivious to the hostility he had just aroused in expressing his concern. He was astounded that Beth knew his name after such a short stay at the house. He had worked for Lord Edward for four years and was still addressed by him as ‘man’ or ‘you’.

“You may all go,” Richard announced curtly to the men. “Give your weapons back to the steward before you resume your normal duties.”

The men filed away dutifully, and Beth tried to take the opportunity to sneak past Richard into the house, but he anticipated her and his hand shot out, gripping her arm painfully as she walked past him.

“Do you realise what you’ve done?” he snarled, his voice shaking with rage, his face pale.

She winced as his fingers bit into her arm, but could hardly remind him of his promise not to touch her, when she had just broken her side of their bargain so comprehensively. Even so, she could not bring herself to apologise to him.

“I intended to be back before my absence was discovered...” she started to explain.

“Lord Edward is beside himself with worry and his sisters are all swooning in the parlour. I would not be surprised if we were thrown out of the house this very evening!”

“Where is Edward?” she said.

“He is in his study interviewing your maid. But if I were you...”

She moved so quickly that she succeeded in tearing her arm from his grasp, and was up the steps and entering the study before he could catch up with her.

Grace was standing in front of Edward, her back to the door. She was shaking so violently that she seemed in imminent danger of collapse.

“I will ask you once more,” Edward shouted. “And this time I expect a truthful answer...”

Both of them looked round as Beth opened the door. Edward’s face drained momentarily of all colour, and then flushed an unbecoming red. The maid’s face was blotchy, her eyes red and swollen with weeping.

“Oh, Beth,” Grace whispered and, her knees buckling beneath her, she sank down onto the floor.

Beth was kneeling beside her in a second.

“Has he hurt you?” she said, taking Grace by the shoulders, but the girl was too occupied trying not to faint to answer. Beth looked up at her cousin standing in front of them, his feet planted solidly apart on the mustard-coloured carpet.

“Have you hurt her?” she said furiously. “Because if you have, I...”

“What do you take me for, madam?” Lord Edward roared, his face puce. “I have never struck a woman in my life! Although some women would clearly benefit from a good thrashing.” He glared at her. “I was merely questioning her in an attempt to ascertain your whereabouts.”

“I have never seen Grace faint in my life,” Beth retorted. “You must have...”

“My God, woman, do you know how frightened we have been? We thought you had been abducted at the very least. And then you come strolling in, at,” he glanced at the clock, “seven o’ clock, as though nothing is wrong, and accuse me of assaulting your maid! How dare you!”

Beth helped Grace up from the floor and gently led her to a nearby sofa, where she sank down again, her face grey. Having made certain that the maid would not hurt herself if she were to lose consciousness, she turned back to her cousin.

“Please allow me to apologise on behalf of my sister, Lord Edward,” Richard’s ingratiating voice broke into the silence. “She does not usually behave so, I assure you. She is somewhat distraught by her recent bereavement...” His voice trailed off as he realised neither his sister nor his cousin were taking even the slightest notice of him. He hovered uncertainly in the doorway, unable to leave and yet equally reluctant to stay.

Beth was aware of Richard’s presence, but was too preoccupied with Lord Edward’s reaction to pay her brother any attention. His fleshy face was almost purple with outrage, but she could see the remnants of his fear in his eyes, and realised in that moment that she had misjudged him. He was angry, yes, pompous and domineering, certainly. But his blustering retort was partly an attempt to hide the genuine concern he had had for her safety.

“I am sorry,” she said, and meant it. “I had no right to accuse you of mistreating my maid.” She could feel Richard’s hostile gaze boring into her back as he stood at the study door.

“No, you did not,” Edward replied, glaring at her. His voice softened slightly. “Are you all right? Have you been molested in any way?”

To her horror, her eyes filled with tears and she felt the weakness of delayed reaction to the traumatic events of the day threatening to overwhelm her. She looked down at the carpet, saw the spreading brown stain of the muddy water dripping from her skirt, and fought off the weakness. She heard Edward ask Richard to go and inform the ladies that Elizabeth was safe, and the door close quietly. She felt better now that the waves of hatred lapping against her back had gone.

“No,” she said, softly at first, and then more clearly. “No, I have not been molested. I am not hurt.” She ignored the pain in her shoulder, which was still throbbing from when the Scotsman had relieved her of her knife. “I got lost, that was all. I only intended to spend a couple of hours shopping, and thought I would be home before anyone realised I had gone.”

Unexpectedly, he moved across to her and took her by the elbow. He felt her flinch slightly away from him, but did not release her, instead steering her gently into a chair. He had no wish to see another woman collapse at his feet. He reflected that her father had probably had to beat her regularly to keep her in line. No doubt that was why she thought he had hit her maid.

“What possessed you to sneak out alone?” he asked. “Why did you not ask for the use of the coach? I am sure one of my sisters would have been willing to accompany you, if you wanted to go shopping.”

It didn’t seem politic to point out that his sisters were so nervous and pathetic that they were terrified of venturing further than the garden in case a raindrop should assault them. Now was the time to be humble. It was made easier by the fact that she knew she was in the wrong.

“I didn’t think. I am truly sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

That was an easy promise to make. They were leaving for London in two weeks.

“Well, I don’t know,” Edward said, as though he had read her thoughts. “I think I may have to revise my decision that you accompany us to the Capital. I cannot tolerate such improper behaviour.”

Beth realised that she had to do something, quickly. Slumping back in the chair, she stopped trying to fight off the nervous reaction, and allowed the tears that had formed a lump in her throat to erupt.

“I am sorry,” she sobbed, “I realise how inconsiderate I have been. I won’t do it again, I promise. Oh!” This last came out as an exclamation of utter distress, but was in fact caused by the wave of sudden nausea which assailed her. She swallowed furiously, reasoning that while Edward might be moved by floods of feminine tears, he would only be revolted if she were to throw up at his feet.

“I have been so looking forward to wearing my new dresses and meeting all your friends!” she wailed.

Isabella, having heard the sounds of her cousin’s distress, came rushing into the room. She knelt down beside Beth and enfolded her in her arms.

“What are you talking about?” Isabella said, her voice shaking with emotion. “Of course you are going to meet our friends. Oh, I cannot tell you how relieved we are that you are unharmed!”

Beth leaned into her cousin’s embrace.

“I am so sorry for worrying you, Isabella. I didn’t mean to. I so wanted to give you all presents tomorrow. I won’t go off alone again, really. Please take me to London with you.”

“Of course we will, won’t we, Edward?”

Edward shuffled from foot to foot, feeling extremely uncomfortable in the presence of feminine tears.

“Er...well...I am not sure, Isabella,” he said, trying against the odds to maintain authority. “I have made allowances for her parentage and upbringing, but really, her behaviour today was unforgivable.”

“But all her dresses are ready!” wailed Charlotte from the door. “And Sir Anthony Peters has already promised to introduce her to the king!”

Had he? Beth’s head shot up, then she lowered it again before Edward could notice that her eyes were now in fact, almost dry.

In the face of so much salt water, Edward crumbled.

“Very well,” he said sternly. “But there are to be no more repeats of this ridiculous behaviour, or I will pack you straight back to Didsbury, do you understand?” He turned and walked from the room before she could reply.

Beth was then ushered up to bed, where a huge fire had been lit in the grate, and having been divested of her wet clothes by the much-recovered Grace, was forced to drink a large glass of mulled wine by Isabella, and then was fussed and cried over by the sisters for a full hour, before being finally, blissfully left alone to contemplate the events of the day.

In spite of the warmth of the room, she shivered uncontrollably for a long time. Part of it was due to reaction, she recognised that. But the sour taste in the back of her throat was not due to the bile she had swallowed down so frantically in the study. It was the nasty, bitter taste of duplicity, which she had never before had to resort to, but which she had used to such good effect tonight.

Get used to it, Beth,
she told herself.
You will no doubt have to resort to it again, before long.
But only if absolutely necessary, she vowed. She was not proud of her actions this evening.

The shivering slowly subsided, and she lay watching the fire burn down to embers, contemplating the events of the day. She had been very foolish, she knew that, not, as the rest of the family thought, for going into Manchester alone, but for giving in to the temptation to attend mass instead of returning home at a reasonable time. All her misfortunes had occurred after dark, and she had no excuse; she knew that even her own village of Didsbury, which though innocent and beautiful enough by day, was a far more dangerous prospect once the sun went down. She should have known better, and if she had feigned distress to her cousins, she had nevertheless meant her promise – she would not go out alone after dark again.

Chapter Seven

“Thank you,” Beth said. “I really appreciate this.”

The man sitting opposite her in the coach brushed aside her gratitude with a languid wave of his hand.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. It is the duty of every gentleman to come to the assistance of a delightful young lady. Why, I feel positively Arthurian!” His chalk-white face creased into a smile, and his blue eyes twinkled. She expected flakes of paint to fall from his face like plaster, but his carefully applied make-up stayed in place.

The carriage rattled merrily along the road to Didsbury. Next to Beth on the black leather bench seat sat Grace, her hands folded demurely in her lap, her eyes sparkling in anticipation of seeing Jane and the other servants again. Beth herself was swathed in blankets and in spite of the chill January day was feeling decidedly warm. The carriage was very comfortable. The seats were well padded, there were numerous brightly-coloured velvet cushions for travellers to place behind their backs to soften the jolting, and leather blinds covered the windows, helping to prevent draughts from chilling the occupants. A small lamp hung above the door inside the carriage, which would give a cosy glow when lit at night. Beth had thought Sir Anthony’s coach would be painted bright red or some such eye-catching colour, and had been surprised when she had first seen the sombre navy blue vehicle. No ornate family crest decorated its sides either. Another surprise.