The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (46 page)

“Only if you’re an actor, I think,” she was saying. “Superstitious lot. Call it the Scottish play. Ridiculous.”

Sir Anthony bent his head and whispered something back. His lips were almost brushing Helen’s ear, he was so close to her. Whatever he said was electrifying. The smile froze on the woman’s face, then she stood abruptly and moved away, just as Prince Frederick re-entered the room.

“Ah, I see you’re all here now,” he said jovially. “If you’ve all eaten enough, we can make our way to the theatre. The players are nearly ready.”

“Och, ye didna really say that, did ye, Alex?” said Maggie, aghast. “Puir wee lassie.”

“Poor wee lassie?” replied Beth. “You didn’t see her. She didn’t even make preliminary conversation. She just went straight in for the kill. I’d have slapped her if she’d carried on.”

“I thought you werena jealous,” remarked Alex, who was devouring a large bowl of broth. “Christ, I’m starving. I hardly got tae eat anything before we were dragged off to the play. Verra good though, excellent players.”

“I wasn’t jealous, I was angry,” insisted Beth. “I knew you weren’t interested in Helen. But when a woman makes a play for your husband in front of you, it’s really insulting. She must have been hit before if she always behaves like this.”

“Probably. But I doubt she’s been tellt that her breath smelt so bad it was putting her victim off his food. I feel sorry for her too,” said Duncan.

“I said it verra tactfully,” said Alex, mopping his bowl with a hunk of bread.

“No you didn’t,” said Beth. “There’s no tactful way to say that, not even for Sir Anthony. Her face just froze. It was a picture.”

“Talking of freezing, yon wee Sarah’s a cold one, is she no’?” Angus commented. “I was passing by her shop on my way home frae the market today and dropped in tae say hello. I’ve never had such a frosty reception. I had icicles growing on me when I left.”

“Her shop isna on the way back frae the market,” said Duncan. “What were ye up to?”

“Nothing!” protested Angus. “She’s a bonny woman. I just wanted to get to know her a wee bit better, that’s all. Mr Gough has just bought an ostrich for his menagerie, and it’s said tae be a fearsome strange beastie. I asked her if she’d like to walk out on Saturday and see it wi’ me. I was verra polite. And she nearly froze the balls… she was verra cool.”

“You keep away from her,” warned Duncan. “She’s a respectable wee lassie. No’ for the likes of you.”

“Christ, I wasna trying tae ravish her!” said Angus hotly.

“Were ye no’?” said Alex. “That’ll be a first, then.”

“I had only the purest intentions,” said Angus defensively. “Though if I’d known ye were sweet on her, Duncan, I wouldna have gone anywhere near her.”

“I’m no’ sweet on her,” replied Duncan coldly.

“Ye go and see her often enough, and I’ve no’ seen ye coming back frozen solid,” countered Angus. “She likes you well enough, it seems.”

“Do you? I didn’t know you were seeing Sarah,” said Beth in surprise.

“I’m no’ ‘seeing her’,” said Duncan. “I’ve called round a few times, that’s all. She likes me because she kens I’m no’ interested in seducing her. She doesna feel threatened by me.”

“She’s had some bad experiences with men,” said Beth hesitantly, not wanting to reveal too much.

“Aye, I ken,” replied Duncan, which surprised Beth even more. “You keep away from her, Angus. She’s no’ setting ye a challenge. She isna interested.”

“Aye, I’m sure that’s true. Dinna fash yourself, I’ll no’ come between you and your wee sweetheart,” his brother teased. “Dinna forget tae wear one o’ they sheepskin condom thingies, though, when ye…”

Duncan half rose from his chair.

“Prince Frederick’s very different from the rest of the family, isn’t he?” put in Beth hurriedly. “Why does the Elector hate him so much?”

“It’s a family tradition,” said Alex. “George’s father hated him as well. I dinna ken, rightly. I’m no’ sure George does, either. Frederick was left over in Germany when the rest of the family moved to England. He didna see his parents from when he was seven until he came over to join them fourteen years later. That wouldna help. But he was popular wi’ the public, too. He’s got a nice easy way wi’ him.”

Duncan sat down again. Angus, grinning, wisely went to sit on the other side of the room.

“Yes, I saw that,” said Beth.

“Aye, well. His da should have given him some responsibilities. He is the heir to the throne, after all, until we get the Stuarts back. But he wouldna, because he didna like the fact that Frederick was more popular than him. So he treated him like dirt and made him into an enemy. I’ll gie Frederick his due though, he willna have a word said against his father, even though he’s been treated verra badly.”

“I enjoyed the visit today. It was a lot better than visiting St. James’s.”

“Aye, it sounded like it,” said Iain.

“I’m not so keen on some of his friends, though,” Beth added, thinking of David, and Helen.

“Aye, well, Fred was something of a rake before he got married, and he still likes to drink and gamble at times. And to play jokes on people, as ye saw today. He attracts aristocratic dandies like David and Percy, and people who dinna like George.”

“Why don’t you see more of him?” asked Beth. “He seems more Sir Anthony’s type than the Elector is.”

“Because I dinna want to alienate myself from Geordie. I’m friendly wi’ the Hanovers to collect information, that’s all. Frederick isna privy to the latest developments. I like him, but that’s no’ important. I canna be seen to be a regular visitor there. But I canna refuse him all the time, either.”

“And also it’s harder to spy on people you like,” said Beth.

“Aye, that too,” admitted Alex. “We’ll wait till we’re personally invited before we go again. It’s better that way.”

Beth agreed. She had liked Prince Frederick and Lady Philippa. But if she never saw the others again, she would not be sorry. In general though, life was reasonably pleasant for Beth at the moment. She no longer had to visit St. James’s and endure the attentions of Cumberland, Anne and Richard seemed really happy together, Maggie and Iain were slowly recovering from the loss of the baby, and Duncan seemed to have found a friend in Sarah. Things could not be better, unless the Stuarts were on the throne and the MacGregors back in Scotland, where they belonged. But there seemed to be no sign of that happening in the foreseeable future. In the meantime she was content with what she had.

March 1745

Captain Cunningham and his wife of just over a month were whiling away a pleasant hour after dinner in their newly redecorated blue and cream salon. Blue was not what Anne would personally have chosen for the decor; she thought it a somewhat cold colour. But with the lamps lit and a roaring fire blazing in the hearth it looked cosy enough, and she would have agreed to Richard painting the room black if that was what he wanted.

She was taking great pleasure in indulging her new husband’s every whim without a murmur. He was young, fit and healthy; he could eat, drink and do anything he wished without his wife feeling the need to point out that cream would possibly aggravate his gout, and perhaps just one small glass of port would be wise, rather than a whole bottle? It was wonderful to be, for the first time in her life, cared for rather than being a carer. They had been to several functions since they had been married, and at all of them he had shown her the utmost consideration. If he seemed somewhat more indifferent when they were alone together, well, that was only to be expected; war was looming, and he had important things to think about. Anne, accustomed to taking last place in people’s minds, was honoured to take only second place in Richard’s.

She carefully cut the thread on the waistcoat she was embroidering for him, then laid it down on the table at her side. She looked across to where he was seated on the other side of the fire, one muscular leather-booted leg crossed over the other, deeply engrossed in the latest copy of
The Gentleman’s Magazine
. He looked very fine in his new uniform with its gleaming brass buttons and silver lace trim denoting his new rank.

“What are you reading?” she asked, not because she was really interested in hearing the latest episode of the political satire set in the senate of Lilliput, but just for the joy of hearing his rich mellow voice. She had never known what it was to be truly in love before, and it was marvellous.

“I’m reading an article as to what measures Britons ought to pursue in foreign wars,” the object of her devotion replied. “But there is not much in here that would be of interest to you. The poetry perhaps.”

“Oh, is there an interesting poem? Do read one to me, Richard!”

“Not now, Anne,” he replied. “I really want to finish this before I go to the club.”

She fell silent, and returned to her embroidery. She needed a new colour for the wings of the butterflies that were fluttering around the buttonholes. She heaved herself out of her chair, her body heavy and awkward in her last months of pregnancy, and moved across to the table where she kept her box of embroidery silks, opening it and surveying the range of colours inside. Brown, they had to be a shade of brown. He wouldn’t wear it if it was garish. She lifted out a beige shade, considered it for a moment, then put it back. It was too light, and would not make a strong enough contrast with the cream of the silk.

Richard finished his article and turned the page.

“I have been thinking, my love, about what name we should give the baby when it is born,” she ventured.

He did not reply, but he did not ask her to be quiet either, which she took as permission to continue.

“I thought to call it Arabella if it is a girl. If you have no objection, of course.”

She took out a skein of chocolate brown silk.

“Yes, if you want,” her husband replied indifferently, his nose still buried in the periodical.

“It is such a wonderful coincidence that Arabella was the name of your mother as well as of Stanley’s,” she said happily. “And if it is a boy, I thought perhaps…”

“It will not be a boy,” he interrupted. He closed the paper and placed it on the small table next to him.

“Well, I am sure I am hoping for a girl, if that is what you would prefer, Richard. But really, we cannot be certain it will be.” She held the silk up to the lamp.

“Are you arguing with me, Anne?” he asked quietly.

“No of course not, darling,” she said. The silk was a warm, rich shade of brown, and would match his eyes perfectly. She smiled. “But it is not for us, but for God to choose the gender of a child. I thought it best to be prepared in case…”

She was lying on the floor, one arm instinctively curled around her swollen stomach, surrounded by a rainbow array of silks and with no clear recollection of how she had got there. She looked up dizzily, trying to focus on the splash of red and black looming above her. Then it bent down and became Richard. He put his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. She clung to him while he half-carried her back to her chair and settled her into it.

“Really, Anne,” he said. “You see what happens when you overexcite yourself? You must be more careful now you are so close to your time. Arabella is an excellent name for the child. You need think no further than that. I will ask the maid to bring you a hot drink.” He took a cushion and placed it carefully behind her. “Now,” he said, “I really must go to the club. It will not do to keep the colonel waiting, when I am hoping to apply for membership tonight. I may be late home, so don’t wait up for me.”

He took his hat, settled it onto his head and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Anne sat back and waited until the white sparkles dancing across her vision diminished. The maid did not appear.

After a time, when she was sure the dizziness had passed, she stood and walked shakily over to the looking glass. The left side of her face was on fire, and as she examined herself in the mirror she could clearly see a dark bruise forming along her cheekbone. She gazed intently at her reflection, as though this other Anne could provide an explanation as to what had happened. She could not remember having gone dizzy before she fell. She had certainly suffered from giddy spells and nausea early in her pregnancy, but had had no problems at all since the fourth month. She stood there, trying to piece together what had happened.

She had been speaking to Richard about the baby, and then something had hit her in the face, hard, and she had fallen. No, that could not be right. She looked round at the silks scattered across the floor. She had gone dizzy, and had caught the table with her face as she fell, knocking the box to the floor. That would explain the bruise. And Richard, concerned, had leapt up immediately to assist her. Yes, that was the only logical explanation. He was right. She would have to be more careful.

She knelt down with difficulty and began to gather the embroidery silks together, replacing them in the box, pausing only to wipe her tears away from time to time. Then she went to bed and lay awake for a long time.

Richard did not return home until the following morning.

“Your sister-in-law was in here yesterday,” Sarah said indistinctly, her mouth full of hairpins. She bent over Caroline, expertly winding a strand of shining brown hair into a curl and pinning it in place on top of her head.

“Anne?” asked Beth, as though she had a whole tribe of sisters-in-law rather than just the one.

“Mmm,” came the reply. She pushed a few more pins into Caroline’s hair and then stood back to admire the effect. “There,” she said. “It’s nice, but it would look a lot less severe if you let me pull a few strands out and curl them to frame your face.”

“No,” said Caroline. “I want to look severe tonight. It won’t help me to be taken seriously by a houseful of politicians if I look like the romantic heroine from one of those silly novels everyone’s reading these days.”

“I’m not reading them, my dear, I do assure you,” said Sir Anthony from the corner of the shop, where he was poking about in various jars and boxes.