The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (47 page)

“You have done though,” Caroline pointed out. “I distinctly remember you discussing
Pamela
once.”

Sir Anthony looked up and smiled.

“Ah, yes,” he replied. “But that was a long time ago and I did have an ulterior motive for doing so. I wished to engage the affections of my wife. I succeeded. I have not read a romantic novel since.”

“You fraud,” said Caroline good-naturedly. “Marrying a woman under false pretences. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I am, deeply,” he said with complete insincerity, and went back to his perusal of Sarah’s goods.

“How is Anne?” said Beth to Sarah.

“She said she was fine,” Sarah replied. Sir Anthony looked up for a moment, then went back to his rummaging.

“I really must get round to visiting her,” said Beth. “I’ve been hoping to see her at one of Isabella’s evenings, but I suppose I’ll have to bite the bullet and go and see her at home.”

“I thought you liked her,” said Caroline.

“I do. It’s the thought of having to be civil to Richard without his company being diluted by lots of others that puts me off.”

“She hasn’t been out for three weeks,” Sarah commented, casually. “She’s been having dizzy spells, or so she says, and has decided to stay at home as much as possible until after the baby’s born.”

“Has she seen a physician?” asked Caroline. “She needs to take extra care of herself now. The baby could come at any time.”

“I don’t think she’s seen one, no,” said Sarah, gazing intently at Beth. “She was going to some regimental dinner of Richard’s last night. It seems all the wives were expected to go and Richard was most adamant she attend. She came in to ask for something subtle to cover up a bruise over her eye.”

“Did she?” said Beth, a strange tone in her voice.

“Yes. She said she’d had a dizzy spell and caught her face on the corner of the mantelpiece as she fell.”

“Oh! How divine!” cried Sir Anthony rapturously from the corner.

“I managed to restyle her hair so that it covered the bruise,” Sarah continued without paying the baronet the least attention. “With luck no one would have noticed it, especially in candlelight.” She paused. “And I showed her how to apply rouge to cover up the other bruise on her cheek. It was a lot older than the one over her eye, because it had faded to yellow.” The two women exchanged a private look of understanding, and then Sarah started to tidy away her pins and combs.

“Where on earth did you get these, my dear? I simply must have some!” Sir Anthony called insistently. The three women looked round to where he was sitting, a small box open on his knee. He held up his hand; in the centre of his pale blue doveskin palm was a tiny black silk carriage, pulled by a minute horse. “Isn’t it exquisite?” he said breathlessly.

“They’re very expensive,” said Sarah, abandoning all her expert sales techniques in the presence of friends. “They’re all cut out by hand.”

“By some poor half-starved woman going blind in a cellar and earning a penny for ten, I expect,” said Beth, exasperated. “Anthony, did you hear…”

“Well, yes, maybe, but nevertheless they are incomparable! Look at that!” He held up a tiny cat, complete with whiskers. “What do you think of that?”

“I think that you’ll look even more ridiculous than you already do if you’re seen in public with a cat stuck on your face,” his wife replied, looking at the silk patch with disgust.

“
Au contraire,
my love. I will be the envy of society.” He rummaged through the pot. “I will have one of each, Sarah,” he said, closing the box and getting to his feet.

“There are twenty different patches, Sir Anthony,” warned Sarah. “It will cost…”

“Oh, what matters cost, where fashion is concerned?” he cried.

“Anthony,” Beth said. “Did you hear what Sarah just said about Anne?”

“Of course I did, my dear, I am not deaf,” he replied pleasantly, taking Caroline’s cloak and helping her on with it. “Anne is having dizzy spells. Did you suffer from such an affliction with Freddie, my dear?”

“No,” said Caroline. “But of course it is possible, I suppose.”

“Quite. Well, we must go. You do not wish to be late for the Cabinet, Caroline. We will take you home immediately.”

“She is
not
having dizzy spells!” exploded Beth the moment they were in the carriage.

“How can you be sure?” Sir Anthony replied calmly, looking out of the window.

“Oh come on, Anthony!” she cried. “Caroline, you said yourself you didn’t have them with Freddie! It’s Richard, not the corner of the fireplace that’s hit her.”

“I didn’t have them,” Caroline agreed doubtfully. “But every woman’s different, Beth. She could be having dizzy spells, but if she is, she should see a physician.”

“Exactly!” said Beth triumphantly. “And if she hasn’t, it’s because he’ll know that the only thing wrong with her is the swine she’s married to!”

“Perhaps we should go and see her,” said Caroline, “and try to persuade her to see a doctor.”

“Yes, we should. And that’s exactly what I intend to do, the moment we’ve dropped you off.”

“No,” said Sir Anthony, his eyes warning her not to pursue this while they had company. He glanced out of the window again.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” cried Beth. “I can’t just do nothing! I’m going to go round to the house and talk to her, that’s all. Find out what really happened.”

“And what will you do if Richard’s there?” he said. “You said yourself you don’t want to be in his undiluted company.”

“I don’t,” she replied hotly. “But that’s not because I’m afraid of him. If he’s there I’ll tell him exactly what I think of him and what I’ll do if he hits her again.”

“Very well,” he said, his eyes angry, his tone calm. “Let us assume for the moment that Richard is, as you assert, beating Anne. Do you think it will help matters for you to enrage him by ordering him how to behave towards his own wife?”

Beth glared at him.

“I’ll be tactful,” she said through gritted teeth.

“No, you won’t,” he said. “You are incapable of tact where your brother is concerned, Beth. You’re not going.”

Caroline shifted uncomfortably in her seat, clearly wishing she was somewhere else.

“You are making Caroline feel awkward,” Sir Anthony said warningly.

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” Beth replied, before turning straight back to her husband. “But I am going to Anne’s, now. If Richard is there, I’ll leave, immediately. Does that satisfy you?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he replied coldly. “You’re not going, Beth, and that’s final. Ah! Slow the coach a moment, Murdo. I spy an old friend.”

The coach slowed and Sir Anthony leaned out of the window.

“William!” he cried. “You are just the man I was hoping to see. May I beg the pleasure of a word or two?”

The coach came to a halt, and the horseman bent in the saddle to smile at the two ladies inside.

“Lady Elizabeth, Mrs Harlow, delighted to see you,” the Earl of Highbury said politely, paying no attention to Beth’s furious expression. “Of course, Anthony. What do you wish to discuss?”

“A private matter. If it is convenient, I will descend for a few moments.”

He got down from the coach and the two men moved out of earshot.

“To hell with him,” said Beth. “I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

“He has a point though, Beth,” said Caroline hesitantly, somewhat stunned by Sir Anthony’s uncharacteristic authoritarian attitude.

“What! You agree that we should do nothing?”

“No,” Caroline replied hurriedly. “But I don’t think you should go round there without thinking it through first. I know you mean well, but Anthony’s right. You’re more likely to make things worse if you go dashing to rescue Anne.”

Before Beth could reply, Sir Anthony leaned in through the coach window.

“William has kindly invited me to dine with him, my dear,” he said. “And then I think I may accompany him to his club this evening. There will be several important people there.” He smiled winningly.

“How can you think of…?” Beth began.

“Beth,” he said firmly, casting Caroline an apologetic glance. “I will deal with this situation. William’s club is frequented by many military men. You will go home. I will see you later. Murdo,” he continued, pulling his head out of the carriage, and looking up at Duncan, who was driving, “you will take Mrs Harlow to her house, and then will take Lady Elizabeth home, where she will remain until I return this evening. Is that clear?”

It was clear. Not daring to make a scene, and knowing it would be futile and undignified anyway if she did, Beth went home, where she alternated between worrying about what Richard might be doing at that very moment to Anne and fuming that she had married a man whose servants were also his family and his clansmen, and that they could not be bribed or persuaded to disobey orders under any circumstances.

The members of Highbury’s club met every Wednesday in a coffee house near St. Paul’s. A table was provided, with apple pasties, wine and punch, and a large fire burned in the grate. The floor, though bare wood, was clean, and sufficient candles burned to drive the shadows to the corners of the room. The walls, originally painted cream, had now darkened to a light brown due to years of tobacco smoke.

It was an eclectic club, and the conversation was therefore more varied than in clubs whose members held a profession or a pursuit in common. Nevertheless, as Sir Anthony had informed Beth, a considerable number of military men frequented its environs, and as he entered he was gratified to see not only the newly promoted Captain Cunningham, but also his colonel, ensconced by the fire with a number of other uniformed men. The earl had told him that Colonel Hutchinson frequented the club regularly when not on campaign, and as Richard had been admitted as a member only a few weeks ago, there had been every likelihood he would be present too.

Ignoring the calls from the huddled group in the corner to come and join in the discussion on Aristotle, the earl and baronet made their way over to the fire on the pretence of warming themselves.

“Uncommonly cold night tonight,” said Highbury, standing with his back to the fire and lifting the skirts of his coat to enable the warmth to penetrate. “Blowing a gale. I nearly lost my wig twice between the carriage and the club.”

Sir Anthony pulled up a chair and sat down.

“Captain Cunningham,” he said. “Delighted to see you here. You managed to tear yourself away from the loving arms of your bride, I see.”

“Shilling in the pot, Anthony,” barked a large man opposite before Richard could answer. “No titles allowed here, you know the rule. And he’s your brother-in-law, for God’s sake!”

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry. I’d quite forgotten,” said Sir Anthony ruefully, delving into his pocket.

“Does captain count as a title, John?” asked the earl.

“Of course it does!” replied the large man. “Mister counts as a title here. No excuses. Everyone is equal.”

“I’m surprised to see you here tonight, Richard,” continued the baronet, flicking a silver coin with perfect accuracy into a pot on the mantelpiece. “I thought you’d be spending as much time as possible with your dear wife, as you will soon be sundered from each other.”

“I told Anthony your orders are through,” interpreted Highbury.

“Ah,” said Richard. “Yes. At last. We have to be in Gravesend and ready to embark by the thirty-first.”

“Oh my dear boy!” cried Sir Anthony. “That is a mere ten days away! You must be devastated.”

“What rot you talk, Anthony,” said the colonel amiably. “He’s ecstatic. We all are. We can’t wait to get to Flanders and teach those damn Frenchies a lesson. With luck we’ll have the whole war over and done with by autumn.”

“We were just discussing the forfeiture law for those accused of treason, and whether it’s unfair or not. There was an article in the
Magazine
about it a few weeks ago,” said John, a captain in the horseguards.

“Yes, I read that,” put in Richard. “It said that the law was too harsh, as it punished innocent women and children. Ridiculous, in my view. A man will think twice before committing treason if he knows his whole estate will be forfeit if he does.”

“Don’t you think that hanging, drawing and quartering is a sufficient deterrent?” said Sir Anthony, shuddering delicately.

“Not for some, no,” put in another man. “Some of them consider it an honour to die for their misguided principles. But if they know their wives and children will be reduced to beggary as a result, they will think again. Wouldn’t you think seriously before you risked Daniel’s inheritance, William?”

“Daniel’s inheritance would be safer with the king than with him, though,” laughed John. “He’d gamble the whole lot away in a week.”

The earl shot the horseguard captain a look that made him fall immediately silent and squirm uncomfortably in his chair.

“It does seem somewhat heartless, though,” Sir Anthony commented, “to punish the innocent. After all, a wife can hardly prevent her husband from committing treason if he wishes. And his children certainly can’t. And it breeds resentment too. Such disinherited children are hardly likely to grow up with warm feelings towards the king and his government.”

“Not all women are innocent of blame. I believe many encourage their men into folly,” said Richard confidently. “And as for it breeding resentment, you only have to look at the aftermath of the ’15. We were too soft on the rebels then. Most of them were pardoned and left to continue plotting in their castles, and were they grateful for such lenient treatment? No. Instead they and their sons are all rising again for the Pretender.”

“Are they?” asked Sir Anthony in mock alarm, looking fearfully round the room. “Where? I see no Jacobite hordes marching on the Capital, Richard. Or are you privy to secret information?”

Richard flushed angrily and tried to think of a witty retort.

“If anyone was privy to secret information, Anthony, it would be you, with your finger in every pie, as you well know,” said Highbury.

“I see your point, though, Richard. You take a severe view,” said Colonel Hutchinson. Richard smiled. He had known his colonel would think this way. “But I think on the whole Anthony is right,” the colonel continued. “This law is patently unfair. It is a man’s duty to protect and cherish his wife and children, who are weaker than him, both in body and mind. If he callously abandons them, then it is for the authorities to protect them in his stead, not to penalise them further for a crime they have not committed. You said that many women encourage their men into folly, but any man who allows himself to be governed by women, who, for all their charms, are deficient in intellect, is not worthy to be called a man.”