The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3)

by Julia Brannan

  “It sustains Charlotte,” pointed out Alex.

  “True. But it was killing Anne.”

  “Well done,” said Iain. “Now can ye turn your hand to stopping my wife eating, before she gets so big I canna fit in the bed wi’ her?”

  “Haud yer wheesht,” said Maggie, who since becoming pregnant had indeed developed a prodigious appetite, but had not, in spite of Iain’s dire predictions, put on any great amount of weight, although her stomach was starting to round nicely now she was in her fourth month. “I’m eating for the bairn too, remember.”

  “You must be having triplets then,” said Angus cheerfully, moving to take up a supine position by the hearth. Maggie and Beth, both sitting on the sofa, used him as a footstool in perfect synchronicity, then laughed.

  “As long as they’re no’ born on the sixteenth of April, I dinna care if there’s ten of them in there,” Maggie said.

  “It’d be an awfu’ bonny twenty-first present for me if they were,” said Angus.

  “Not for me it wouldna,” said Maggie, wiggling her toes blissfully in the warmth of the fire. “I’ve nae intention of lying in my bed alone screaming wi’ birthing pains, while you lot are all roistering away down here.”

  “I wouldna be!” said Iain indignantly. “I’d be with ye. Well, in spirit anyway,” he amended, remembering with relief that men were not allowed in the birthing chamber. He put his arm around his wife’s shoulder.

  “Aye, it’s the spirits I’m worried about,” said Maggie

  “Will ye be calling it Angus, then, if it’s born on my birthday?” persisted the footstool.

  “Only if it’s a girl,” replied Maggie. “I’d be too afraid of it turning out like you, else.” She reached across to the plate on the table for the last biscuit, only to have it snatched from under her fingers by Duncan, who broke it in half, throwing one piece with perfect accuracy into his younger brother’s open mouth, and munching happily on the other.

  “It’s all that excess fat, Maggie,” Duncan said. “It’s making ye slow.” He ducked as a cushion sailed harmlessly past his head, glancing over his shoulder as it hit the wall behind him.

  “See what I mean?” He grinned, turning back in time to receive the second one full in the face.

  “Have the MacGregors no shame at all,” said Beth amidst the general laughter. “Taking the bread from an innocent unborn child’s mouth?”

  “Speaking of the innocent, and gullible,” said Alex. “I can see how ye got Anne tae eat again, but how the hell did ye talk her into going to a dinner party and the opera?”

  “That’s thanks to you,” said Beth. “Once you told me that you couldn’t come, because you’re meeting with Sir all-the-double-u’s…”

  “Sir William Watkins Wynne,” supplied Alex.

  “Yes, him. And Sir John Cotton and the Earl of Barrymore, I realised that I would have no partner.”

  “I have to go, Beth,” Alex said. “Wynne lives in Wales and rarely comes to London. If I dinna see him now, I’ll have to travel two hundred miles to do it.”

  “No, it’s perfectly all right. I’m glad, in fact.” She was, for two reasons, only one of which she went on to reveal. “It means that I was able to persuade Anne that I needed her company if I was not to be the odd number at the party. Especially because Caroline won’t be there. She’s got to entertain some MPs to dinner that night. Edwin’s parliamentary star is rising, it seems, and she’s got to play her part. She’s even looking to engage a nurse for Freddie, on a part-time basis.”

  “And Anne actually believed that you’re so lacking in confidence you’re afraid of attending a family dinner without me?” Alex said incredulously. “Christ, woman, if I dinna stop ye, I’ve nae doubt ye’ll lead the MacGregors into battle single-handedly when the time comes.”

  “No, she willna,” said Duncan. “She’ll be at St. James’s talking Geordie into believing that Hanover’s particularly pleasant at this time of year, and helping him to pack his bags.”

  “That wouldn’t exactly be a challenge,” said Beth. “He spends more time in Hanover than he does in England as it is. I don’t know why he persists in being king, when he obviously hates the place he’s king of. Now if I could persuade his sons to go as well, and Cumberland to drown himself on the way across the Channel, that’d be more like it.”

  “Teach me some of your persuasive ways, then,” said Alex. “If I can convince Wynne, Cotton and Barrymore to commit themselves to us, ye’ll have nae need to persuade Geordie or his sons to go home. They’ll be running as fast as their German legs can carry them.”

  “You’re on your own there, I’m afraid,” replied Beth. “You don’t need any help from me, anyway. I learnt most of my devious ways from you. But persuading Anne to do things isn’t very difficult. She could be talked into almost anything at the moment. It’s up to us as her friends to make sure she’s only pushed into doing the things that are right for her, until she’s got the strength to make her own decisions.”

  * * *

  Clarissa’s birthday dinner was a success, although on a personal level Beth had not thought it was going to be at first. The table was set with the finest damask linen, delicate pink and white flowered china, and impressive displays of white chrysanthemums. The chandelier blazed with light, casting rainbows around the room, and the food promised to be at least edible, the Cunninghams having engaged a new and competent cook to replace the one who had run off with the French chef.

  Clarissa had spent hours writing out place cards, embellishing each one with carefully painted flowers and foliage, and Beth had been horrified to discover that whilst Anne was seated at her left as she had hoped, the card on her right bore Richard’s name. She had known that he was staying at his cousins’ for the winter and would be present tonight; that was the other reason she had been glad her husband could not attend. Ever since she had lied to him about the identity of her assailant she had felt intermittent pangs of guilt. It would have been very difficult to watch Alex conversing with her brother, ignorant of what he had done.

  But she had not expected to have to actually sit next to Richard, and as he took his place she nodded curtly to him and turned at once to Anne. He would not want to speak to her, she was sure, any more than she wished to converse with him.

  “You are looking in excellent health, Elizabeth,” he remarked, to her amazement. “Marriage seems to suit you.”

  She could not ignore him without arousing curiosity.

  “Yes,” she replied, turning her shoulder slightly towards him, “and the military life seems to suit you, Richard. You have such a skill with flowers, Charlotte,” she continued without waiting for her brother to reply. “The displays are quite breathtaking.”

  “I was hoping for the opportunity to…” Richard began.

  “Ah, Lieutenant Cunningham! I wonder if you and your delightful sister would do me a small favour?” came a familiar voice from behind them.

  “Of course, my lord,” replied Richard at once, standing and bowing.

  “Excellent!” said the Earl of Highbury. “Then if Miss Clarissa does not object to me disrupting her seating plans, I would be most obliged if you would exchange seats with myself and allow me to sit next to your sister, sir. We are acquainted, and I see her so seldom. I am sure you understand.”

  Miss Clarissa, sitting for once at the head of the table in honour of her birthday, did not object, of course; she would not have objected if her highly exalted guest had chosen to eat his meal standing on his head in the middle of the table; but on glancing at Richard’s face, Beth saw to her surprise that he most certainly would have liked to say no. He relinquished his chair and the earl sat down, shaking out his napkin with a flourish.

  “Thank you,” said Beth without thinking.

  “Not at all, Lady Elizabeth. I owe you a favour far greater than that of relieving you of unpleasant company for an hour,” he replied softly.

  Beth looked at him. How much had Alex told him about her?
A great deal, it seemed. She wondered again, not for the first time, how well these two men knew each other. She must ask Alex.

  “Lady Redburn,” the earl said, over Beth’s head, “please accept my condolences on your tragic loss. I deeply regret that I was unable to be present at the funeral. Stanley Redburn was a fine man, and you made his last months the happiest of his life.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” said Anne. Her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling, too. Beth relaxed a little, especially when the soup came and Anne took her spoon and ate almost half a bowlful. Although still dreadfully thin, her pallor had been disguised by Sarah’s expertise and her hair washed and swept stylishly on top of her head.

  “Sir Anthony told us that you met him in Edinburgh, my Lord Highbury,” said Isabella.

  “Yes, Daniel and I were there on business. It was a chance meeting, but most interesting.” He smiled. “Will Sir Anthony be joining us later, Lady Elizabeth?” he continued to Beth, thereby forestalling any awkward questions regarding the details of the encounter.

  “No,” she said. “He is meeting with some business acquaintance. He has neglected his financial affairs of late, due to our travels.”

  “One cannot afford to do that in these ever-changing times,” replied the earl. “The world of business moves so quickly. It is all too easy to be left behind.”

  In spite of the innocuous nature of his words, Beth felt vaguely uncomfortable. Or was she imagining that he knew more of the business Sir Anthony was engaged in than he should? It was easy to read deeper meanings into the most innocent comments when married to a spy. I am imagining it, she thought as the conversation flowed around her, moving from business to Edwin’s well-received speech in the commons regarding the need to keep some troops in Britain next spring to deter the Jacobites from rising.

  She was not imagining the fact that Richard, from his place far down the table, was trying to attract her attention, though. She could feel his eyes on her as she drew Anne gently into the conversation, laughing and joking, at her light-hearted best. No doubt he wanted to provoke her in some way. She was determined not to be drawn into anything controversial, and refused to meet her brother’s eye. This was Anne’s night, more than Clarissa’s, in Beth’s view; she was not about to let anyone spoil it.

  The meal over, and toasts drunk to Clarissa’s long life and good health, the company departed for Covent Garden and a performance of Handel’s Ariodante. Clarissa was beside herself with joy, for Mr Handel himself was to play. Even Anne, still dressed in deep mourning black, was smiling, and her eyes held a little lustre. The earl divided his attention between her and Beth, and as they settled into their boxes Beth realised that he had taken on the role her husband would have performed, had he been here.

  Their box held eight people; Lord Edward and his sisters, Richard, Beth, Anne and the earl. The Winters and Fortesques had been consigned to the other box, to Lady Winter’s annoyance and Beth’s relief. The orchestra tuned their instruments. Footmen brought wine and cakes to the boxes. Beth ignored Richard, lavishing all her attention on Anne, and he was soon engaged in conversation with Edward. The Cunninghams continued to chat merrily, along with a good many of the people in the pit, even when the orchestra stood to denote that the performance was about to begin. There was a cheer from the audience as Handel walked on stage and took his seat at the organ. The overture started. Lady Winter leaned over the balcony to speak to Isabella. Lord Winter could be clearly heard explaining to a no doubt utterly uninterested Lydia that this was one of three operas by Handel based on Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso. Beth smiled. At least she didn’t have to put up with him this time. Clarissa moved to the front of the box, clearly hoping to hear some of the singing.

  Suddenly the music stopped and an expectant hush descended on the theatre, followed by a resounding cheer, far louder than that which had greeted the entrance of the composer. Hats were thrown in the air.

  “What’s happening?” Beth asked.

  “His Royal Highness Prince William Augustus has decided to grace us with his presence,” said Lord Edward pompously, standing up and bowing deeply to the prince, who was taking his seat in the box on the opposite side of the stage from themselves, and did not respond to Edward’s gesture, being too busy acknowledging the roar of the crowd.

  There was a pause while the applause died down, then the performance began again.

  “Really, it is quite an honour, to have such a hero attending the theatre on my birthday!” said Clarissa, as though the prince had come on her express invitation.

  Beth sighed, and gave up hope of actually hearing any of the performance at all as the battle of Dettingen began to be re-hashed in great detail by Edward and Richard to the delight of Isabella and Charlotte, at least.

  The first scene, in which the heroine Ginevra proclaimed her love for Ariodante and hatred of the Duke of Albany, came to an end to resounding applause.

  “What do you think of the prince’s exploits, my lady?” asked the earl sotto voce to Beth.

  “I am sure he was very brave, my lord,” replied Beth non-commitally. “I am told it was a great victory.”

  “Yes, a victory indeed,” agreed Highbury. “But not for Cumberland, I think, nor for his father either, truth be told. Did you know that George’s horse ran away with him at the start of the engagement?”

  “No, I do not recall reading that piece of information in the London Gazette,” said Beth, wondering if the earl was a closet Jacobite.

  “Well, of course you would not expect to. It is a somewhat partisan journal. Although credit must be given to the king. He did face danger without flinching, and the duke behaved most bravely when wounded. He still suffers pain from his injury, I believe.”

  Good, thought Beth, glancing across at Cumberland, who happened at that moment to be looking her way and nodded his head in her direction. Highbury stood at once, and bowed with the utmost servility, and Beth revised her opinion, remembering that there was a big difference between not liking the king and his family much, which few people did, and being a Jacobite. The earl was a Whig peer, after all.

  Act One finished, and Beth leaned across to Anne.

  “Are you all right, Anne?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. The scene in the garden between Ginevra and Ariodante was so romantic! I am actually quite enjoying myself,” said Anne, smiling shyly. “You were right, of course. I owe it to Stanley to try to be as happy as possible, and to ensure he lives on in his son.”

  “A commendable attitude, my lady” said the earl. “But if you feel the need for a little air between acts, I would be delighted to accompany you to the foyer.”

  Anne blushed.

  “You are too kind, my lord,” she said.

  “Not at all. I intend to take a short drive out into the countryside tomorrow. I was going to suggest, if you do not consider it too impertinent of me, that you accompany me. Would you like that?”

  She looked at him, her eyes wide.

  “You will of course, feel the need for a chaperone, as is only to be expected at such a delicate time,” the earl continued smoothly before Anne could refuse, as she was clearly about to do. “My motives are of the purest kind, as I am sure you know, but unfortunately there are always those of a malicious nature who will see evil in the most innocent gesture. Clarissa, my dear, would you be so kind as to accompany myself and the Lady Anne on a short drive into the countryside tomorrow?”

  Clarissa replied rapturously that she would be delighted, thereby trapping Anne into agreeing, in a move worthy of the devious Beth, or her husband. What an excellent evening this is turning out to be, Beth thought, smiling gratefully at the earl. She had planned on dragging Anne out somewhere herself tomorrow; now she would have it free to spend with Alex.

  A footman entered the box, bowed, spoke a few words to Lord Edward, then moved forward to Beth, bowing again.

  “My lady,” he said. “His Royal Highness wishes to convey his compliments, and asks if you wi
ll do him the honour of joining him for the rest of the performance?”

  She looked across at the opposite box, to see Prince William, Duke of Cumberland smiling directly at her. Every fibre of her being wanted to say no, but she was as trapped as Anne had been a moment ago. Lord Edward had already stood to open the door of the box for her to leave, taking her acquiescence for granted, and she had no choice but to agree. Her cheerful mood of a few moments ago evaporated, and it was with some difficulty that she summoned a smile as the duke rose to greet her when she entered his box. He raised her from her curtsey and beckoned her to the seat next to his.

  “What a coincidence that we should both choose to attend the opera this evening!” said the duke as soon as Beth was settled in her seat. He called for champagne, and the footman scurried away. “Do you enjoy the music of Handel, Lady Elizabeth?” he asked.

  “Yes, very much, Your Highness,” replied Beth, wishing Act Two would start so that she would have an excuse for not talking to this man. She rarely felt such antipathy for people, and it took all her acquired acting skills to mask the intense dislike she felt for him. Still, it was important to the cause that she retain the goodwill of the Elector’s son. She must make an effort. She turned to him and smiled.

  “Your husband is not partial to the opera then, I take it?” he continued. “He is not here tonight. Or is he joining you later?” The duke did not sound as though he relished that prospect.

  “Sir Anthony is a great fan of the opera, Your Highness,” said Beth. “But we have been away for a time, and he finds it necessary to pursue his business interests this evening.”

  “Ah!” said the duke, putting such delight into the syllable that Beth was instantly alert, and apprehensive.