The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (3 page)

“Now might not be the best time to visit,” Caroline roared to make herself heard over the sweet, docile baby’s furious screams. “He’s got wind, and he’s not in the best of moods. And neither am I, to be honest.”

“Nonsense!” shouted Sir Anthony amiably, arranging himself gracefully on the sofa. “It’s never a bad time to visit friends.”

Caroline hoisted the baby impatiently onto her shoulder and tapped his back wearily. His roars doubled in volume, his face turning bright red and his tiny fists waving angrily about in the air. Beth looked at her husband uncertainly.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Sir Anthony enthused, with absolute sincerity.

Both Caroline and Beth looked at him with disbelief.

“Yes, he’s beautiful,” Beth agreed lamely, thinking she had never seen such a hideous crumpled thing in her life, although she would not have admitted that to Caroline, even under torture. She sat down next to her husband. “We’ve come to invite you to a dinner next…”

“What?” cried Caroline. “I can’t hear a thing, I’m sorry. God, I love him dearly, but he’s driving me mad today. At times like this I wish I
had
hired a nurse, as everyone keeps telling me I should.”

“Here,” said Sir Anthony, to Beth’s surprise. “Let me try. You sit down for a minute.” Without waiting for Caroline’s permission, he deftly removed the screaming bundle from her arms and cradled it to his chest, the tomato-coloured face resting on his shoulder.

Caroline plopped herself down next to Beth, watching with interest as the baronet paced slowly across the room, alternately patting then rubbing the baby’s back with a firm circular motion. There was something very endearing about a large man holding a tiny infant with such infinite tenderness, as Sir Anthony was doing. The two women watched him for a short while, mesmerised. The racket continued.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline said into Beth’s ear. “This isn’t a good introduction to him. He’s normally quite placid.”

“Yes,” said Beth doubtfully. “Anthony said he was a very quiet child.”

The cries stopped abruptly, replaced by a loud burp and an ominous sound that Caroline recognised immediately. She leapt up, just in time to see a copious trickle of white liquid emerge from the child’s mouth and pour thickly down Sir Anthony’s immaculate royal-blue back.

“Oh, God!” said Caroline. “I’m sorry. I’ll get a cloth.”

“It’s all right, my dear. Stop apologising, it’s natural,” he reassured her. “There, there now, that’s better, isn’t it?” he crooned to the child, whose cries had subsided to whimpers now the source of pain had gone. Its face was changing slowly from red to pink. The baronet continued to pace slowly round the room, crooning to his charge, unfazed by the mess on his coat. He used the proffered cloth to carefully wipe the child’s mouth and chin.

“Er…we came to invite you to a dinner party,” Beth said, eyeing her husband with continued amazement. She had never seen him with children before, had no idea he was so accustomed to them.

“Oh,” said Caroline, “you’re throwing a party! Of course I’ll come. I’m not sure about Edwin though. He’s virtually living at Parliament at the moment, with the French crisis.”

“No, it’s actually Isabella’s dinner party, but she wants you to come.”

“Does she?” Caroline asked. “Really?”

“Well, she doesn’t have any objections, anyway,” Beth revised. “But I want you to come. You
have
to come. She’s throwing it for me and Anthony, and you can’t imagine the people she’s invited.”

“I think I probably can,” Caroline said with a grimace.

“Please, you must come. I’ll need some respite from the endless questions about my affair with King Louis, and the duel. I assume you know about the duel?”

“As much as I need to, yes. Yes, I’ll come,” Caroline replied, looking at Sir Anthony. He had stopped pacing now, and the baby had ceased crying completely, his eyes drooping, ready for sleep.

“There you are,” Sir Anthony smiled, placing the child in his startled wife’s arms, before straightening and carefully removing his coat. He eyed the damage, which had now soaked into the expensive satin. Caroline winced.

“Oh, I think that can be cleaned,” he said carelessly, hanging the somewhat smelly item over a chair in the far corner of the room, before coming back in shirtsleeves and waistcoat to take a seat adjacent to his wife.

Beth was sitting preternaturally still, the infant held awkwardly in her arms. Now relieved of wind and excess milk, he did actually look rather cute, she thought, with smooth rose petal skin and a tiny pursed mouth. His ears were like little shells, but his eyes were more green than blue. She smiled, and looked up from the baby to see Caroline and Anthony watching her with amusement.

“He’s not a bomb, my dear,” said Sir Anthony. “He won’t explode if you make a sudden move.”

“I don’t know,” said Caroline. “He might. He seems to spend half his life exploding, from one end or the other. If he suddenly screws his face up, prepare yourself.”

“He
is
beautiful, isn’t he?” Beth said, with such astonishment in her voice that Caroline burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” Beth said, blushing. “I didn’t mean…”

“That’s all right, I’m not so easily offended. He
is
ugly when he’s crying. And I should have expected your reaction anyway, Beth.”

“You should? Why?” asked her friend.

“Because one thing you two have in common is unpredictability. Men are usually very uncomfortable with babies. I should have expected, therefore, that Anthony would be relaxed with them, but it still came as a surprise. Whereas women are usually accustomed to children and know exactly what to do. But you look as though you’ve never held a baby before in your life. Have you?”

“Yes,” said Beth, a little put out. “Once or twice. But you’re right. I haven’t had many dealings with babies. I didn’t have any younger brothers or sisters, or any other relatives with children, as you know. I like them, but I’m a bit frightened of them, too, to be honest.”

“Whereas I had three younger sisters,” said the baronet smoothly. “And I lived in France for a time. The French are very child-orientated.”

Beth thought of a marble headstone in an icy country churchyard in Switzerland, and then of a baby Angus with slate-blue eyes and ridiculous eyelashes, and a fuzz of fair hair, gazing mischievously up at his eight-year-old brother, anticipating the volatile, action-packed years to come.

“Didn’t one of your servants have a baby?” Sir Anthony asked, breaking into her thoughts. She realised she was smiling foolishly, and bestowed the smile on the infant in her arms, where it would be understandable.

“Martha,” Beth said. “Yes, she did, but when she got pregnant she was disowned by her father, and went away to her aunt’s to have the child. It was over a year before Thomas managed to track her down, and Ann was nearly two before Martha could get away from her aunt. She was a horrible woman, insisted that Martha owed her a lifetime of slavery because she’d allowed her to have her bastard child in the house. Children are quite different when they’re two,” she pointed out.

“So I assume Martha’s not gone back there then,” Sir Anthony asked.

“No, that was the first place Thomas asked. She’s just vanished. It’s very odd.”

As Caroline was looking confused, Beth explained about Martha’s resignation after an altercation with Richard, and her inexplicable disappearance.

Little Frederick, or Freddie as Edwin was already calling him, had now gone to sleep on Beth’s knee.

“I’d like to get accustomed to babies,” she said wistfully, looking down at him.

“My advice is to take your time,” Caroline said. “Get to know each other first. Because once a baby arrives, you’ll have no time for anything else.”

“Unless you hire a nurse,” Anthony said.

“Yes. But I didn’t want to do that, not straight away, at any rate. Your attitude is a relief, to be honest, Beth. I thought I was the only woman in the world who didn’t know much about babies. I’ve been learning as I go along. It’s fun, but exhausting, too. I though Edwin would be able to help more than he has. He really wants to, but what with the gin tax, all the argument about whether England should be paying for Hanoverian troops who are doing nothing at the moment, and now the imminent invasion, we hardly see each other.”

“How is the invasion?” Sir Anthony asked, as though enquiring after the health of a mutual acquaintance.

“Still imminent, as far as I know,” Caroline answered. “I’ll worry about it when the French are hammering on the door. To be honest, by the time Edwin gets home he’s too tired to talk about it, and I’m too tired to listen. But there was a letter from a spy at Louis’ court which pretty well detailed the whole plans, and gave a list of Jacobites who have since been rounded up. A lot of troops are being mobilised, and the navy is preparing. Or is prepared, probably, by now. Oh, and the king has written to Louis to demand the removal of the Pretender’s son from French soil.”

“Louis will like that,” Beth said.

“He did. He’s written back, basically saying ‘go to hell’. Something on the lines of ‘you abide by your treaty with us, and we’ll abide by ours with you,’ you know the sort of thing. And more than that I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll find out at the dinner. I thought you’d already know everything anyway, Anthony. You’re normally very well-informed.”

“Ah, but I’ve been out of the country for six months, my dear. I am completely ignorant of current developments.”

“But not of how to stop babies crying. Before you go, just show me exactly what you did to bring the wind up so spectacularly.”

He did, and Caroline bent over to relieve Beth of the burden of the child.

“Have you got any silver, Anthony?” Beth asked suddenly.

“Why do you need silver?” Caroline asked.

“I must give the baby some.” The baronet having come up with nothing, Beth unclasped the slender chain from around her neck, and pressed it into the baby’s hand. “It’s a Scottish custom, very unlucky if you don’t,” she explained. “My mother told it to me. You’ll have to take it off him straight away, though. I don’t want him to swallow it.”

Caroline looked at Sir Anthony, who was debating whether to don his soiled coat or put up with the cold for the short journey home. She was clearly remembering that he too had given the child a silver coin on his previous visit, saying only that it was a family custom. He smiled vacuously at her, then slung his coat over his arm, and opened the door.

To Beth’s relief, not only Caroline, but also Edwin turned up for the meal. He looked tired and a little harassed, but he was there. Which was as well, when you looked at the other ‘dear friends’ of the Peters’ that Isabella had thoughtfully included. Lord Bartholomew and Lady Wilhelmina Winter; Anne Maynard; Lydia Fortesque and her father Thomas, who Beth had met briefly once, and who Edwin spoke highly of. And an elegant man in late middle age of medium height with intelligent brown eyes, who she had never met before, but who nevertheless looked vaguely familiar, and who was soon introduced by Sir Anthony as William Barrington, Earl of Highbury.

Daniel’s father.

It seemed, Isabella gushed, delighted at being able to count such a distinguished name amongst her guests, that the earl had arrived in London only yesterday, but had kindly agreed to make up the numbers. The party was informal, and Beth had already decided to seat herself between Caroline and Anthony, and opposite Edwin, if possible. Or some similar arrangement. She whispered as much to Caroline, and made sure she was in their company, firmly glued to her husband’s side for the pre-dinner drink in the salon.

“Oh, Sir Anthony!” exclaimed Anne Maynard, materialising from nowhere at his side, and laying her hand shyly on his arm. “I cannot tell you how happy I am that you and your dear wife are reconciled! I must confess I felt partly responsible for your separation, having foolishly divulged that you had challenged Monsieur Monselle.” Her brown eyes were genuinely pleased and embarrassed, as they passed from Beth to Anthony. He patted her arm.

“Nonsense, my dear Anne!” he trilled. “It was nothing more than a misunderstanding. Beth and I were never separated. We had a slight disagreement before the duel, that is all. She merely returned home early to conduct some business for me in Manchester. I joined her as soon as I was able. People will misconstrue the most innocent actions,” he added, glancing at Lady Winter, who refused to meet his eye. She, after all, had been the main promulgator of the rumour that Beth had had an affair with King Louis and that the marriage was over.

The bell rang for dinner, and all Beth’s hopes were overturned in an instant, as her husband carefully tucked Anne’s hand under his elbow and led her into the dining room, leaving Beth unchaperoned. It appeared merely thoughtless of him, but it wasn’t, Beth was sure, and was puzzled. Edwin was about to come to the rescue by offering her his spare arm, when a hand descended lightly on her shoulder.

“If I may have the honour?” the earl said. Reluctantly Beth surrendered her arm to him, and Caroline and Edwin walked ahead, Caroline casting a sympathetic glance over her shoulder at her friend as they went.

They were the last to enter the dining room, and just as they were about to cross the threshold, the earl held back, forcing Beth to halt as well.

“May I have a brief word, before we go in?” he said, to Beth’s surprise. She had intended to politely avoid him all evening, as far as that was possible at such a small gathering, and had expected him to do the same. Instead he seemed to be set on the opposite course of action. She nodded her head in acquiescence and waited for him to speak.

“I would just like to say that I was utterly appalled by the conduct of my profligate wastrel of a son with regard to yourself. His behaviour was despicable and inexcusable.”

“Yes, it was,” said Beth, impressed by his bluntness, and returning it. “But he is a grown man, my lord, and should make his own apologies.”

“Indeed he should, but will not. I wish therefore to apologise for him, as I must assume some responsibility for how he has turned out, being his father.”