Sophia lay in bed, listening to the clock strike hour after hour, looking up at the tester over the bed, and thought of Marjorie and Philip lying naked on a bed together, laughing at her. …
A tall, wasp-waisted girl with powdered hair and painted face stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Her dress was of white satin with a faint stripe of silver running through it. The hoop was enormous, and the overskirt tied back with knots of roses and pink bows. There were more pink bows edging the elbow-length sleeves, and down the front of the bodice, too.
“I shall never wear pink again,” said Sophia to her reflection.
“You must,” insisted her aunt Midmain. “Remember, you are the Tarrant Rose, and it is expected that you wear pink and carry roses, always. You have set quite a fashion for it. You are a legend.”
“Then I will create a new fashion, when I am no longer the Tarrant Rose.”
Perkins fastened on heavy diamond earrings—Philip’s gift to his bride. “What would miss like, instead of pink?”
“Dark blue, very plain, with a small hoop.”
Lady Midmain cried out in horror, but Perkins nodded. “Miss has excellent taste. With her height and coloring, she might succeed in setting a new fashion in simpler clothes.”
A maid brought in a posy of white roses from her betrothed, and a last-minute present from Mr. Carramine in the shape of a chicken-skin fan. Then it was time for her to go downstairs. She took a last look around. She had been very unhappy in this house, but at least she had known her place. The future was a blank.
She turned sideways to maneuver her hoop through the doorway, and followed her aunt Midmain down the stairs. Aunt Nan was downstairs already; Sophia would have liked Aunt Nan with her while she dressed, but Lady Midmain’s generosity did not extend so far as that. The sisters were on civil if distant terms with each other. Sir Gregory appeared, pulling at the collar of a new coat. He enquired if Sophia were ready and asked his wife if she thought his new coat becoming. Perkins shot down the backstairs. The servants would all be lined up at the back of the drawing-room to watch as Sophia was given in marriage to the Earl of Rame, and Perkins would not wish to miss a second of her triumph. It was no easy matter, as she told her fellow servants, to turn a country girl into a Countess.
The stairs were slippery. She must not fall. Her uncle was worried about some wine he had ordered. The double doors into the drawing-room had been opened for them. Her uncle was pinching her arm. It was hard to smile and smile while he was pinching her arm. … There were banks of white flowers on either side of the doorway, and most of the furniture had been removed from the room, to accommodate the guests. The parson was waiting; his teeth were uneven, and his wig didn’t look clean, but he was a Man of God and able to tie the knot.
Philip was wearing a scarlet coat, laced with gold. He looked very stiff and remote. His hand was no warmer than hers. She closed her eyes for a second, and the room seemed to rock under her feet. Philip’s handclasp turned into a grip whose strength pulled her upright once more. Had anyone else noticed that she had almost fainted? A ring was slipped on her finger. It seemed too big. Instinctively she clenched her hand, pressing the ring down her finger with her thumb. Philip bent to kiss her cheek. It was gracefully done. She moved her lips into a smile, and curtseyed to him … and proffered her cheek again and again … Mr. Carramine … Lord Carteret with his dragon of a mother, Baroness Granville … the Lincolns. …
Was that the time? It was amazing how time passed. Someone was urging that they witness the ceremony of bride and bridegroom being bedded, but Philip was laughing them away, saying that he had been through all that before, and wanted a little privacy this time.
Then … how did it happen that she was being handed into a coach when she could not remember having left the house? Had she said everything that was proper to her uncle and aunt? Yes, she must have done so, for they were smiling and waving from their doorstep. How odd to think that they would go back into the house and continue to talk of the wine and whether the second best silver would do for dinner, and if such and such an invitation might be looked for …
Whereas Sophia would be somewhere else, thinking of … what?
Her hoops took up all the space on one side of the Earl’s carriage and so he sat opposite her. He was looking at his watch as the coach drew away from the Midmain’s.
“Aunt Nan!” she cried. “Ought she not to have come with us?”
“Mr. Carramine has already taken her home. The heat and the noise were rather trying for her, and she was concerned about Thomas, who is not feeling very stout today. She will be waiting for you at your new home.” His matter-of-fact air calmed her. She leaned back against the cushions, thinking that his coach was better appointed than the Midmain’s.
She asked, “Did you wear your uniform to remind me that our marriage is to be a fight to the death?”
“You are hardly capable of bearing arms at the moment. I suggest that we resume hostilities only when you are restored to full health.”
“A truce?”
“If you will.”
“Yet I am sure you had some reason for donning a soldier’s uniform today. If it was not meant as a warning to me, then …”
“Can you keep a secret?” He leaned forward and took her hand. She nodded. “In an hour’s time Henry Lincoln and I, both dressed in the uniforms we wore when we served in Flanders, will stage a patriotic scene at His Majesty’s levee. You picture it? Two ex-soldiers, recently married, on their knees imploring the King to take them back into his service … seeking permission to raise regiments … fight the Pretender single-handed, and so on. It is all arranged that Henry will do all the talking, for I am no hand at such fustian. All I shall have to do is kneel at the right moment, and pull the appropriate faces.”
“But what a ridiculous thing to do! The King will never accept your offer! Everyone knows that he is far too fond of both you and Lord Lincoln.”
“I sincerely hope so.” He smiled. “Of course, it is all a sham, but such ploys have their uses. I shall not enjoy doing it, but if it means that other men will come forward to place their services at the King’s disposal, then I don’t mind. You said I ought to fight for the King, and this is my way of doing so; there are more ways than one of fighting, you see. To whip up patriotic sentiment, at a time when His Majesty is unsure of the feelings of the British, is surely worth a regiment or two.”
“What if he takes you at your word? You do not wish to rejoin the Army, do you?”
“Henry has wagered his new hunter against my Prince that ‘Someone’ will rumble us before he is halfway through making his offer. Myself, I think we will be rumbled as we approach the King. He is no fool.”
“You would leave me on our wedding day?” She gasped at his effrontery.
“Henry said that leaving you on our wedding day would make a very telling point in his speech. I shall explain that I have left you prostrate, in bed, with the doctors hovering over you.”
“What nonsense!”
“It will be the truth. You are about to be handed over to your aunt and the doctors, to be dosed with physic and put to bed and given sleeping draughts and plenty of nourishing food until you begin to look something like the girl I met in the spring.”
“What?”
“And if you refuse to take your draughts, I daresay your aunt will hold your nose until you do. Or perhaps, if you ask very nicely, she will sweeten her potions to make them more palatable, since you are in such a very weak state.” He was enjoying himself. “And as for your stays, your new maid has orders that they are to be let out six inches …”
“None of my dresses will fit!”
“… and she has two sempstresses waiting to alter your wardrobe accordingly. You should have at least two dresses ready to wear tomorrow, although your aunt thinks—and I agree with her—that it would do you good not to receive or make any visits for at least a week. It will be thought that your fatigue is the result of my attentio
ns, or of my wish to leave you to rejoin the Army. Either way, no one will think any the worse of you if you do not appear in public for a week. You must be presented to the King again, in your new role, but that can wait until you are better.”
She began to laugh. She was on the verge of hysteria. He took hold of her hands. Would he slap her? She thought he might. She fought for control. It would never do to arrive at her new home in hysterics. They were turning into the square.
She had beaten him in the country, and he had beaten her in Town. What would happen in the months to come? She stared at him with narrowed eyes, and he stared back. They were like wrestlers, studying each other’s strengths and weaknesses against the resumption of the fight.
The coach stopped. A footman opened the door, and let down the steps.
“Welcome home!” cried Miss Nan.
Chapter Eleven
The winter nights were long and dark in Edinburgh, and now that the Jacobites had left the city, a slack feeling pervaded the streets. In the private room behind the tap of a small tavern near one of the city gates, two gentlemen sat over the remains of a substantial meal. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and the clothes of the older man were travelstained. He was soberly, but well dressed; perhaps a merchant in a profitable line of business. The landlord heard him observe that he was lucky to have arrived in Edinburgh before the city gates had closed for the night. There was a Jacobite cockade on the table. The landlord thought nothing of it, for there had been plenty of them around recently.
The younger of the two men was neatly but poorly dressed in clothes such as a clerk might wear. Perhaps he was in the employ of the merchant? He wore a scratch wig, by no means new, and now and then he eased his shoulders in his drab coat, as if it were too tight for him. Few would have recognized the once elegant Sir Jasper Tarrant in this disguise. He had put on weight since the spring, and gave the impression of being much heavier and older than the lad who had so lightheartedly set out to make his fortune. He had gone under many aliases since that day, first in Britanny, and then in Scotland, and he was known to the Government department who employed him as David Vere.
“I’d hardly have known you,” said Mr. Carramine, when the landlord was out of earshot.
“I’ve learned a lot, this last year,” agreed Jasper.
“But not enough to trust Mr. Stone?”
“Not now. I know the kind of men I have to deal with—gallows birds, every one of his couriers. I feel safer, sending my dispatches direct to Philip. I can trust him to work for my interests, but who knows who might get the credit for my work if I sent my dispatches direct to Mr. Stone?”
“Philip charged me to tell you that you have done enough to earn yourself a commission. Why don’t you return to London with me?”
“Not now. I want to see this thing through. You heard that the Pretender has taken our bait, and is quite convinced that a large number of English gentlemen are only waiting for him to cross the Border to rise on his behalf? You should have seen the letter I wrote to him, in my father’s name. It was a masterpiece of suggestion and innuendo. I had a drinking companion called James Gordon, who is a lieutenant in the Pretender’s Army. He’s only a young lad,” said Jasper, who was no older himself. “He was a fisherman by trade and one day his chief sent out men to round up everyone who could bear arms to fight for him, and hey, presto! James becomes a soldier. And a very bad one, too. He thought I was interested in joining the Pretender, and I had to laugh at his expression, for half of him wanted to convince me that the rebels were about to sweep King George off the throne, and the other half wanted to warn me off. Then I told him I was acting for some highly-placed gentlemen at the English court, and that I had orders to pass secret documents through to the Pretender. He was easily gulled. He went off with those false ‘invitations’ as happy as you might wish, and lo and behold, the Pretender and his Army marched out of Edinburgh two days later. I rode out to watch them pass, all five thousand of them.”
“Did you find out where the rebels were going from Edinburgh?”
“Yes, that was easy. They said they were going this way, and then that, but the tents are going direct to Carlisle, so that’s where they mean to end up. Did you know, the rebels didn’t have any maps of England? They didn’t know which towns were on the road to London, or even which road to take? All they knew was that they had to go south and east.”
“Carlisle? Well, all the Border towns have been sent reputable officers to take charge of their defenses, and Wade is ready and waiting.” Mr. Carramine picked up the Jacobite cockade. It was formed of five bows of white silk, tied in a knot. On it was printed a laurel wreath, and the words With Charles our brave and merciful P.S. we’ll greatly fall, or nobly save our country.
“Now the rebels have gone,” said Mr. Carramine, “you might discover for us exactly how many of these have been made. Also, how many pairs of shoes were extracted from the citizens of Edinburgh, and how much money was handed over.”
“Not I,” said Jasper. “I’m off after the rebels in the morning. You can get someone else to tie up the loose ends for you.”
“But Philip said …”
“I’d do much for Philip. He showed me how to turn the situation to my own advantage, and at the same time led me into the biggest adventure a man could wish for. He doesn’t understand me, though. He thinks that when this affair is done, I’ll be happy to go back to Tarrant Hall and lease it from him. I told him clearly enough that all I want out of life is to make my own way in the Army, and that I’ll never take his charity.”
“What about Miss Marjorie? Has she no place in your plans?”
Jasper was silent. Mr. Carramine sighed, put his hand in his pocket, drew out a folded note, and handed it to the lad. Then he rose from the table, and went to peer out of the window, in order to give Jasper a chance to read his letter unobserved.
Rain beat against the curtainless window. Underneath his feet the flagged stones were chill. Mr. Carramine shivered. He had not particularly wished to make the trip to Edinburgh, but Mr. Stone had heard that food was being sent over from Ireland to the Jacobites in large quantities. Also, there were some men in Edinburgh whom it seemed politic to interview. Exactly how much money had the Pretender managed to extract from the city? That was the question.
It had been impossible for Philip to leave Town while the King was still so undecided, and yet someone had to go. Mr. Carramine had volunteered for the mission, because he had wished to persuade Jasper to return to Town with him. Perhaps Miss Marjorie’s letter might succeed where he had failed.
Jasper’s voice broke across Mr. Carramine’s reflections. “What is this about trouble between Philip and Sir John? And is Marjorie really being pressed to marry someone else?”
Mr. Carramine returned to the table. “Sir John is drinking heavily. I think perhaps he has become a little unbalanced. He dreams of wedding his daughter to a peer, or a man of immense fortune. He has taken a dislike to Philip and makes slighting remarks about him, which Philip has so far chosen to ignore. It would be extremely awkward if he were involved in a duel now, when so much depends on him. Sir John mistakes Philip’s forbearance for cowardice, and calls him ‘Philip the Bold,’ in a sneering tone.”
“No one but a fool would believe that Philip is a coward.”
“There are always plenty of fools about, ready to believe the worst of those in the public eye. Moreover, Sir John has taken two of Philip’s ex-servants into his own employ, and thereby has learned something—not much, but something—of what happened at Hamberley in the spring. Sir John misunderstands the little he knows, but rumors are beginning to spread about Town that Philip was involved in some shady transaction or other. Then your sister let slip that Philip and Lord Lincoln had planned their supposedly spontaneous plea to lay their swords at His Majesty’s feet.”
“Sophia? What has she to do with this? I thought—there is something in Marjorie’s letter—are Sophia and Marjorie on bad terms?�
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“I’m afraid so. Your sister misinterprets Philip’s kindness to Marjorie.”
“But he is quite old!” Jasper shouted with laughter.
“Miss Marjorie may think so, but I doubt if the Countess does.”
“How odd to hear her spoken of as ‘the Countess.’ Does she grace her new position?”
“She goes everywhere, and is greatly admired, but she is escorted by Mr. Dalby and Sir John, rather than by her husband. We have ceased to use the library of his house for our conferences, because Philip does not feel she can be trusted.”
Jasper reddened. “You insult my sister, sir.”
“Jasper, I have known you both since the day you were born. I love you both, but I am aware of your faults. Sophia is acting like a spoilt child. Philip requested that she see less of Mr. Dalby and Sir John, and she ignored his request. He confided in her about Lincoln’s ploy, and she blabbed of it to Maijorie for one, and possibly to others.”
“Marjorie would not betray us!”
“No, I do not think she would, but she may have told her father, or he may have forced the truth out of her. She says not, but …” He shrugged. “Either way, Sir John got to hear of it, and made fun of Philip because of it. It is not pleasant for a man like Philip to have Sir John mock him. Setting hurt pride on one side, Philip thinks it would be unwise to let Sophia have access to our secrets at this moment. Suppose he told her everything, and she considered she had cause to be angry with him, and told what she knew? We cannot afford to have our spy system a household word, and above all, we cannot afford to let the Pretender know that he has been duped as to the number of active Jacobites in England. If he learned that, he’d turn straight round and come back to Edinburgh, to wait until his brother Henry and the French are able to invade these shores some time next year. In such case, we would be let in for a long, costly and terrible civil war.” He laid his hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “My boy, you have done enough here. Will you not come back with me to London, and see what you can do to help?”
The Tarrant Rose Page 21
