Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (23 page)

“So, do you know where Sarah went?” she said brightly, hoping no one had noticed her reaction to Thomas’s joke.

“Yes, she took a room next door to Mrs. Pelman’s house in Manchester,” Jane said.

“Mrs. Pelman’s?” Beth said, puzzled.

“The whorehouse she came from before she started work here,” Graeme supplemented. Jane closed her eyes in exasperation.

“But I made sure Richard gave her enough money to set up in a new life,” Beth said.

“She has,” Thomas replied. “That’s why she’s next door, and not
in
Mrs Pelman’s. She’s decided to set up as a lady’s hairdresser. And good luck to her. Plenty of the ‘ladies’ next door are already using her services to make themselves look beautiful.”

“She must be very talented, if she can make that lot of pox-ridden whores look good,” Graeme commented acidly.

“The last time you spoke about her, you all hated her,” Beth said. “What’s made you change your minds?”

Graeme had the grace to look abashed.

“Hmm, well, maybe we were a bit hasty judging her. You were right, she just needed a chance.”

“She was completely changed after you gave her that money, Beth.” Jane said. “She came and apologised to us all, told us exactly what she’d said to Richard, and about some of the things she’d overheard that she hadn’t told him. She had to tell him something so that he wouldn’t beat her, but only told him the relatively harmless things. She worked like a Trojan for two weeks here before she left. And she thinks you’re an angel from heaven, Beth.”

“She’ll not find it easy to make a living. There aren’t enough gracious ladies around, and too many people know what her former profession was. But she’s trying, I’ll give her that,” Thomas said.

Beth was greatly cheered. It was good to know she had rescued Sarah from the clutches of men like her brother. If only she could rescue herself.

“Any other news?” she said, painfully aware that the three hours were rushing by and Sir Anthony could return at any moment.

“I was going to write to you tonight,” Jane said. “We have news of John.”

Grace, who was halfway to the sink with a pile of dirty plates, froze. Beth looked up expectantly in time to see an enigmatic look pass between Jane and Thomas.

“What is it?” she asked.

“He’s joined the militia,” said Graeme bluntly.

The plates crashed to the floor. Miraculously, only two broke. Grace bent to gather them up, her face scarlet.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Beth spoke quickly to give Grace some time to collect herself.

“Was he conscripted?” she asked. He must have been picked up as a vagrant, she thought.

“No,” replied Thomas. “He volunteered.”

Beth stared at him, open-mouthed.

“I don’t believe it,” she said finally. “John would never volunteer for the militia, not even if he was starving. Has he told you that?”

“Jimmy Taylor told me. They went to enlist together. He’s been doing casual labour at the Vintner’s Arms when they were busy.”

“But what will he do if the Jacobites rise?” she said. It was a real possibility. Jacobite riots, although isolated and sporadic, did occur all over England, and Manchester was notoriously sympathetic to the Stuarts.

“Follow orders and throw them into jail, I expect,” Thomas replied, his voice laced with disgust. “I know I never agreed with John’s views, but I respected him, and liked him too.”

“But none of us can respect a traitor to his cause, whatever cause that may be,” Graeme said. Thomas nodded. Grace had by now swept the shards into the bin and sat down, white-faced. Beth still could not believe it. Not of John.

They all sat in companionable if gloomy silence for a while, until the distant sound of a carriage announced the return of Sir Anthony.

“Just before you leave,” Jane said. “We all got you one Christmas present between us.”

Beth was wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, and smiled.

“There was no need...”

“Yes, there was, and you’ve got to accept it,” Jane said, thrusting an envelope into Beth’s hand. Inside were six gold sovereigns. Beth looked at them all.

“I can’t take this,” she said. “I’ve persuaded Richard to give me a small allowance when we reach London, and you need this money a lot more than I do.”

“It’s not money,” said Thomas. “It’s the cost of a coach back to Manchester from London, including five days food and lodging. We’ll have no peace of mind unless we know you’ve got the means to come back any time you want.”

“It’s as much a present for us as for you,” Graeme added simply. “You’re to keep it in case of need. And don’t hesitate to use it, if that need arises.”

Trust her friends to think of the one thing that would comfort her, that would help her to endure whatever London had to throw at her, she thought as they rode back in the direction of Ardwick. The knowledge that she could leave at any time would help to give her the strength to stay.

Grace hadn’t said a word since she’d heard the news of John, and Beth reached now for her hand. It was trembling, and Beth knew Grace was finding it very difficult to control her emotion. So was she, for that matter. In spite of the comforting weight of the sovereigns in her pocket, she had no idea when she would see her friends again and what would happen between now and that day.

“Sir Anthony,” she said suddenly, and he jumped, having been absorbed in gazing out of the window, respecting their need for silence. She had not thought he could be quiet for so long, unless he was listening raptly while someone revealed the latest gossip for him to spread. “I wonder if I might ask another favour of you, or do you have any appointments this afternoon?”

“None at all,” he replied, smiling. “I am entirely at your disposal.”

“I wonder if it would be possible to pay a brief visit to Manchester?”

“What a superb idea!” he enthused. “Perhaps we could partake of a little refreshment, if you ladies would be so kind as to grace me with your company?”

“We would be delighted,” she lied. “But I need to make a brief call on a friend of mine first.”

“Certainly.” He leaned out of the window to instruct the coachman.” What address shall I give?”

“The Vintner’s Arms,” Beth replied firmly.

* * *

“He’s not here,” the barmaid said, eyeing Beth suspiciously. “Why, who wants to know?”

“I’m a friend of his,” Beth explained. “I wanted to speak to him, that’s all. Do you know where he is?”

“No idea,” the woman replied, turning away.

Beth sighed. She had had to argue all the way to Manchester to dissuade Sir Anthony from coming in with her, insisting it was a confidential matter. He had reluctantly agreed, on the condition that he wait outside within shouting distance. Although what he could do against the kind of clientele that frequented this establishment, she had no idea. Maybe they would be too weak from laughing at his appearance to attack him. Although there were not many customers at this time of day, she could feel the eyes of those there were boring into her from the shadows. A stench of stale beer, rancid mutton fat and tobacco smoke pervaded the room. This was just the sort of place the footpad of the other night would frequent, she thought. Or the men who had rescued her from him, for that matter.

“Look,” she said, raising her voice. “I’m not a jilted sweetheart, and he doesn’t owe me any money. He used to work for me. I need to know if I can send his character on here, and I would really appreciate a few words with him. If he doesn’t want to see me, I’ll go away.”

The woman turned back, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

“What’s your name?” she said brusquely.

“Beth,” Beth replied. “Beth Cunningham. Why?”

The woman’s face lit up.

“Ah, well, why didn’t you say so? He talks about you all the time,” she beamed, holding out her hand. Seeing no alternative, Beth shook it reluctantly. “He’s not here. But he’ll be back, so you can send his character on if you want. Volunteered for the militia he did, the fool. He’s off in Lincoln doing his training.”

“It’s true, Grace, I’m afraid,” Beth said when she emerged from the pub, wiping her hand on her skirt.

“Is he there?” Grace asked.

“No, he’s training in Lincoln. But he’ll be back in a few weeks.”

If Sir Anthony was curious, he showed no sign of it.

“Well, now we are here, ladies, why don’t we repair to a more salubrious establishment and partake of some punch?”

John Shaw’s Punch House, although very close by, could not have been more different. Both the room and the staff were clean and the air was rich with the fruity smell of punch. They sat at a table in one corner and Sir Anthony ordered a P from an enormous woman with forearms like trees.

“What’s a P?” Beth asked.

“It’s the larger size bowl of punch, my dear. The smaller size is called a Q, but if I may be so bold, I would say you both look in need of restoration, and John’s punch is just the thing.”

He was right. It was delicious, orange in colour, very fruity but with a distinctly alcoholic kick to it. Beth downed the first glass rather quicker than she had intended and made a conscious effort to slow down after that.

“So how did you spend your three hours, Sir Anthony?” she asked.

“Oh, I took the opportunity to explore your little village, my dear. Quite exquisite. And the food at the Ring o’ Bells – well, what can I say? I have not tasted better outside London. In fact, I can honestly confess I have not tasted better inside London, either. I will be going down next week. I believe your family are travelling down on the nineteenth?”

“Yes,” Beth said gloomily.

“You are not looking forward to it, Miss Cunningham?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “It is so far from all my friends.”

“Oh, but you will be in the bosom of your family! And for my part, I would be ecstatic if you would allow me to facilitate your entrance into society. If I may presume so far, I would like to think we are becoming friends.”

Would you?
Beth thought.

“It will certainly give me the greatest pleasure to introduce you to those of my acquaintance with whom you may have...ah...how shall I put it...more in common than you do with your cousins. They are very dear ladies, but you are in need of a little more stimulation, are you not, my dear?”

Was it that obvious? She did not answer, taking refuge instead in her glass, which to her surprise was almost empty again. Sir Anthony, noticing, refilled it.

“London is a most stimulating place. There is not a dull moment to be had. You will be quite amazed at the difference in your cousins, I assure you. And of course, you will have your dear friend Miss Miller here for company as well.”

How does he know her surname?
Beth thought, at the same time as Grace explained that she would not be accompanying Beth to the Capital.

Beth would later blame it on three glasses of rather potent punch, but really the alcohol only gave her the courage needed to carry through an idea that had been in her mind all afternoon.

“Would you be acquainted with Mrs. Pelman’s establishment, Sir Anthony?” she asked.

His blue eyes became round with astonishment.

“Certainly not!” he exclaimed. “It is a place of the lowest repute. I am deeply shocked that you have heard of it, Miss Cunningham.” He fanned himself distractedly with his hand, and she supposed that he had blushed or gone pale under his inch of make-up. It was impossible to tell.

“Nevertheless, you have heard of it.” It was a statement. “Is it nearby?”

“Well...yes,” he admitted.

“There is a lady by the name of Sarah Browne, who lives next door. I would like to speak to her, if you would be so kind as to give me directions?”

He called his driver over, who was sitting in a corner with another coachman, enjoying a plate of jellied eels, and issued some instructions in a low voice.

“John will go and see if the young lady is at home. It reassures me only slightly that the lady you wish to speak to lives next door, rather than in the establishment you spoke of before. It is not a reputable area.”

Both his words and expression denoted the utmost disapproval, but his eyes were merry.

They are beautiful,
she thought,
a deep grey-blue, like a twilit sky.
She noticed for the first time how long his eyelashes were. Any woman would kill for lashes like that.

Sarah walked in and brought Beth to her senses. My God, she had actually found something about this dandy attractive for a moment! How potent was this punch?

Sarah’s eyes lit up when she saw Beth, and she bobbed a curtsey before turning to Sir Anthony, a slightly perplexed expression on her face.

“You wished to see me, my lord?” she said.

“Oh, my dear, you do me too much honour. I am not yet elevated to the peerage, whatever my accoutrements may suggest!”

Sarah’s face was a picture of perplexity.

“What the gentleman is trying to say,” Beth explained, “is that he is not a lord, only a baronet. Allow me to present Sir Anthony Peters.”

“Enchanted, my dear girl,” he said, taking her hand in his lilac suede one and pressing his lips to it.

As soon as she saw Sarah struggle not to wipe her hand on her skirt when he released it, she knew she was about to do the right thing. But she needed to speak privately to her. She searched for an excuse to get away from Sir Anthony and Grace for a few minutes. The gentleman turned to Grace and smiled.

“Miss Miller, would you do me the honour of giving me your assistance in choosing a present for my goddaughter? It is her birthday soon, and I have no idea what would be suitable for a four-year-old.”

Grace looked uncertain.

“I am right in believing that you have several young sisters?” he said.

“Yes, but...”

“And I have no sisters at all, being quite alone in the world. I really would be most grateful. There is a shop very close to here that sells numerous trinkets, but I have not the faintest conception as to what would be appropriate. We will be no more than five minutes.”

Beth could have kissed him.