Pretender's Game

by Louise Clark

  Grant turned in his chair. Briefly, he scanned the exotic finery that Staverton wore. “You did not have to make a show of your disguise for us, my lord. Everyone in this room knows you are far from being a fashionable fribble.”

  “I deemed it wise to continue as I mean to go on,” Staverton drawled as he looked over at James, who was standing tensely before the fire. Like Thea, he was dressed in practical clothes, although his dark cloth suit was beautifully cut and fit his tall, muscular form perfectly. Staverton glanced back at Grant. “Edinburgh must see me as a lightweight. It is imperative.”

  Grant sighed. “I fear what I am going to hear will not be to my liking. Close the door, Jamie, so we may be private.” When that was done, he said quietly, “Very well. Let us begin.” He looked from Staverton to James and then to Thea. They all stared back, or at each other, reluctance clearly etched on their features.

  Finally, James said, “There was an incident at Glenmuir. It is that which has brought us to Edinburgh, but there was more to it than we knew when the matter occurred. Staverton brought the information from London and it is not good.”

  “Then let us begin with Lord Staverton’s news.”

  James nodded and looked at Staverton, who took snuff reflectively, then whisked the residue away with a casual flick of his wrist. “As you may have guessed, MacLonan, my news is of the Prince.”

  “I suspected as much,” Grant growled. He paused a moment, frowning. “But wait! I had heard that he was dead. It was all over Edinburgh in August. Are you telling me now that he is alive?”

  Staverton nodded very slowly.

  Grant made a disgusted sound in his throat. “Very well then, what the devil is the infernal wastrel up to now?”

  “He was making a show of himself in London, visiting the Tower and going to parties.”

  “What? Is the man daft?”

  Staverton abandoned his foppish pretense as he leaned forward, his expression serious. “I suspect so. Since the war ended you have probably heard the rumors of his disappearances on the Continent. This is more of the same. I think he enjoys tweaking the noses of government officials, and it must be very satisfying to imagine King George and the Whigs squirming.”

  “But there is a thirty-thousand pound reward for his capture!”

  “Which no one tried to get.”

  “Tried. You use the past tense, Staverton.”

  James broke in. “That is because the Prince has gone to ground again. He disappeared from London as suddenly as he appeared.”

  “No one knows where he is now,” Staverton added with careful emphasis.

  Grant closed his eyes briefly. “Dear God,” he said softly. Then he looked at each man in turn. “This is a disaster.”

  “I fear so,” James said heavily. He looked over at Thea. “There is more.”

  “No doubt,” Grant said tartly. “The Prince has a way of embroiling my family in his mad schemes, much to our detriment. Tell me what it is.”

  James went over to Thea. He crouched before her chair so their eyes were level. She read his silent question and nodded. Carefully, she put her cup on the small table beside her chair, then composed her hands in her lap. “The next part of the story is mine, Mr. MacLonan,” she began, somewhat hesitantly.

  As she moved, Grant was able to see her bruised cheek for the first time. His eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously, but he smiled gently as he leaned forward. “Take your time, lass, and pray do not stand on ceremony. You are my son’s wife and so the daughter of my heart. Call me Grant, or Father, as you choose.”

  Thea smiled. “Thank you, Mr.—Grant.” She glanced at James, who nodded to her encouragingly, before she took a deep breath. “Almost a fortnight ago I surprised a patrol of dragoons. They had stopped at the croft of Maggie MacLonan to interrogate her. I protested, but the officer, a Lieutenant Williams, continued. There were hot words and then a scuffle. At the end of it the officer stabbed Maggie and struck me.” Her hands were clenched tightly together. She looked down as James gently unclasped them, so he could hold them comfortingly in his. She smiled at him, and he raised her hands to his lips to kiss the knuckles. She sighed and went on. “James found me at Maggie’s croft. She was dead by then and the soldiers gone. We could not understand why they had come onto Glenmuir land until Lord Staverton arrived with his story of Prince Charles Edward Stuart and the visit to London.”

  James took over the telling then, but he did not move from where he knelt beside his wife, or release her hands. “Because of Staverton’s information, we assume that the visit by the patrol had something to do with the Prince’s activities in London and perhaps with his sudden disappearance. Thea plans to write to her father to ask him to find out more, and I will visit Harris to see what he intends to do about this intrusion onto my property and the murder of one of my people.” Gently, he touched Thea’s cheek. “Then I shall demand satisfaction for the injury done to my wife.”

  “James, no!”

  The protest was Thea’s, and it was the only one. Grant was nodding bleakly, while Staverton had wandered over to the fireplace, which he leaned against lazily, once more the picture of a self-indulgent gentleman.

  “James has no choice, Mrs. MacLonan,” he said gently. “Williams must be brought to account for his crimes.”

  “For Maggie’s murder, of course!” There was an edge of panic in Thea’s tone.

  James squeezed her hands. Gently, he said, “With any luck, Harris will be as shocked by his subordinate’s action as we are and he will support me in my demands that Williams be punished.”

  Thea was shaking her head. “James, you must not depend on Colonel Harris’s goodwill. He can be a very petty man when he wishes. Before you and I married, he was quite particular in his attentions to me. I made it clear to him that I did not wish to marry him, but he believed it was because I had chosen you, not because I did not care for him. He may be difficult, simply out of spite.”

  “An unfortunate complication,” Staverton drawled from his place by the fire.

  James glanced at him, then looked back at Thea. “Harris has his duty. Despite his feelings towards me, he will be on our side in this instance, for Williams had no cause to strike you, Thea.”

  Rather desperately, she looked over at Grant. “Mr. MacLonan—Grant! Can you not talk some sense into your son? James must lodge his complaint about Maggie, of course he must! But my injury was slight. The bruise is almost gone…”

  “But the scar on your heart remains,” James interjected. He looked at her grimly. “Do not ask me to keep from avenging the injury done to you, for I could not.”

  “I fear for you,” Thea said in a low voice. Her eyes searched his face. She turned her hand in his so that she was clasping it strongly. “There is danger here, I feel it! I would not have anything happen to you, James MacLonan.”

  He smiled at her. “Nothing will happen, my dearest wife. I promise you.”

  Thea smiled tremulously, “I must believe you, James, but promise me that you will take precautions. If Colonel Harris seems to be reluctant, or if he is hostile, will you contact Brendon Ramsey?” She slipped her hand free and put her finger on his lips when she saw a refusal forming there.

  “Though he made his fortune as a merchant trader, he is trained as a lawyer and well established in this community. Moreover, he is known to support the Hanovers. He can help you, James.”

  James raised a brow. “As his wife did?”

  “What’s this?” Grant demanded.

  Thea laughed. “Mrs. Ramsey did her best to overset the beginning of our marriage, but it was only from care for me that she acted. James, Mr. Ramsey has been a good friend to my father. He will help you!”

  “Listen to your wife, Jamie. Brendon Ramsey has money and influence and she is correct, he does know the law. Moreover, if he speaks on your behalf, no one will believe his words are tainted by support of the Prince.”

  Pushed on two sides, James conceded. “Very well, if I n
eed to, I will seek the support of Mr. Ramsey. But Thea, you are worrying over nothing. You will see.”

  Thea smiled mistily. She raised her hand to cup James’s cheek. “I do not want to lose you,” she whispered.

  He caught her hand and turned it so he could kiss the palm. “That will not happen. I promise you.”

  *

  He thought of those words as he walked up High Street. The broad thoroughfare could not be dwarfed by the tall buildings of the town, but it was packed with pedestrians, chairmen, horses, and hawkers. The barrage of noise on the street, together with the smell of stale human sweat and animal odors, was reassuringly normal as he neared the Castle, the massive fortress that had dominated High Street and the city of Edinburgh for centuries.

  The Castle was an impregnable bastion perched upon a barren rock outcropping. It brooded morosely over the city and was, for James, a mute reminder of the folly that had pushed him into war and the bitterness of a long exile.

  In the early months of the ‘45, when the Prince had established his headquarters in Edinburgh, the Castle had remained in English hands even though the Prince and his supporters controlled the rest of the city. At the time, James had joined the Pretender in scoffing at the necessity of capturing the Castle, but he knew now that failing to secure the Castle had shown up one of the Scottish army’s weaknesses—siege work.

  As James passed through the massive gates, he reflected with wry amusement that siege work was hardly a Highlander’s specialty. They were raiders, fierce fighters in the heat of battle, men who preferred a short, sharp clash to a long, dull siege. Although his experiences in France had tempered him, James knew he was true to his race. He wanted to deal with Williams swiftly, in a face-to-face encounter that would bring him the satisfaction he craved. He did not want to wait while unknown officials, safely out of sight somewhere, decided the lieutenant’s fate.

  As the walls of the citadel closed in around him, as if to trap him there, James suffered a brief moment of panic. Taking a deep breath, he told himself he was allowing his imagination to run wild. Nevertheless, he hoped the interview with Colonel Harris would not take long.

  That hope was dashed when he was kept kicking his heels in the waiting room for half an hour before Harris consented to see him. The thought that he was being deliberately shown his place didn’t auger well for the outcome of his mission.

  When James was ushered into Harris’s office, he found the colonel bent over his desk, writing. Harris looked up briefly, acknowledging James with a nod and a faint wave of his hand toward a chair. The ensign who served as his clerk faded discreetly from the room, leaving James to watch the colonel work.

  A contemptuous amusement washed over James at the colonel’s obvious ploy. He’d had plenty of experience with self-important underlings during his years in Europe, and he’d learned to deal with them on their own level. So, he ignored Harris and wandered lazily over to the tiny window that was the sole source of natural light in the room. That put him behind Harris, far enough away that he could not be accused of looking over the man’s shoulder, but close enough to annoy. After glancing out, he paused for a moment to watch Harris, whose back was stiff and straight, before he sauntered back to the sole available chair. Placed directly in front of the desk, it was of a sturdy construction, with a high, slatted back and a flat wooden seat.

  James sat in a leisurely way, flicked back the exquisite lace at his wrists to reach into one captious pocket then withdrew a miniature snuffbox and indulged in a pinch of snuff. He had dressed carefully for this meeting, choosing clothes that had been made in Edinburgh, not on the Continent, and that were of the finest quality cloth. The colors were sober, however, befitting the somber nature of the mission he was on. He was examining the artistry of the snuffbox, exquisitely painted with scenes from Roman antiquity, when Harris lowered his pen.

  “Please forgive me. An urgent dispatch.”

  James looked up from his scrutiny of the snuffbox and raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Colonel. Pray continue. Far be it from me to interrupt so vital a communication.”

  “No need,” Harris replied heartily. “The matter has been concluded. Though I do thank you for your understanding.” They smiled at each other, two dogs circling warily, each searching for an opening from which to attack. The silence grew and lengthened.

  James took snuff again and hoped he wouldn’t sneeze. His silence forced Harris to make the initial move.

  “May I ask on what matter you require my assistance?”

  James regarded the Englishman thoughtfully. Was it possible that Harris was not aware of Williams’s actions? A good officer would ensure that he knew exactly what his subordinates were doing, but James had no idea just how competent Harris was. He’d been introduced to the man when he was in Edinburgh, but he had done his best to avoid the colonel. English Dragoons were not his favorite social companions. Thea believed Harris was bitter and resented her refusal to accept his suit, making him dangerous. Looking at him now, James wondered if she was correct.

  Very well, he thought, if Colonel Harris wants games, then two can play. “I am informed that you command the dragoons who patrol the Highlands now that General Tilton, my wife’s father, has returned to London. Is that correct?”

  Harris stiffened at the reference to Thea’s marriage, but he nodded, his expression cautious.

  “Then, sir, I am here to lodge a complaint against one of your officers.”

  The caution deepened to wariness. “A complaint, MacLonan? Nothing too serious, I hope?”

  “How would you rate murder of a crofter and assault on a gentlewoman, Harris?”

  For a moment Harris sat in frozen silence. Then he said carefully, “I take it that this incident occurred on your estate, MacLonan?” When James nodded, he said briskly, “Would you be so kind as to give me the particulars of the case?”

  Disbelief made James hesitate. Harris was giving every indication that he was ignorant of the matter, something James found very difficult to accept. Still, he knew he had to play along if he was to discover what position Harris intended to take. As succinctly as he could, he described the incident at Maggie’s cottage.

  “The accusations you make against Lieutenant Williams are indeed serious, sir. However, I cannot act on them until I have discussed the matter with the officer himself.”

  James raised his brow. “Williams did not report on his activities in the Highlands?” His tone was heavy with sardonic disbelief.

  Goaded, Harris retorted sharply, “He reported, yes. Information such as you have given me was not included, however.”

  “Understandably.” James hung on to his temper, which was beginning to fray.

  “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

  James stood quickly, in one lithe movement that brought him close to Harris’s desk, as annoyance surged into fury, barely controlled. Planting his palms on the wooden surface of the desk he leaned forward, his eyes blazing, his expression hard. Harris arched backward, then had to look up into James’s eyes.

  “Lieutenant Williams is an insufferable cur,” James said deliberately. “A coward and a bully who preys on those weaker than he for his sport. When my wife chanced upon his vicious little game, he thought he saw another victim. But you know Mrs. MacLonan well, Harris. I’m sure that you realize she would never submit to the threats of a villain like Williams. She has the courage of a lion and she does not take kindly to being bullied. She fought back, Harris, in an effort to save my clanswoman from further harm, even though she had only words as a weapon. That enraged your good lieutenant, and he threatened her with the same violence he was using against the poor crofter.”

  James stopped to draw breath. Harris didn’t move. He stared silently into James’s hard features, his own expression blank.

  “And after Williams had stabbed Maggie MacLonan, in front of my wife’s very eyes,” James continued in the same soft, deadly, even tones, “he had the effrontery to strike her on the face with the back of
his hand simply because she asked him to stay a moment and have his men carry his injured victim into her croft. Then he rode away, uncaring of the havoc he’d left behind.”

  There was a long, heavy silence when James finished speaking. Finally, Harris pushed back his chair, using the moment to shift his gaze guiltily. “I… I didn’t know.”

  Contempt lashed through James. Either Harris had heard that Williams had been to Glenmuir, but not the details of the incident, or his officer hadn’t bothered to recount his actions at all. More and more, James was beginning to believe that Colonel Harris was a man raised beyond his capabilities. As much as he would prefer not to, James had to give Harris the benefit of the doubt.

  “I want justice done,” James said, then paused a moment before adding, “When may I return to hear of your plans for Lieutenant Williams?”

  “Well, I shall have to speak to him first.”

  “I guessed as much. How long does it take for a colonel to summon a lowly lieutenant to his office?”

  Harris glanced away evasively. “Williams had some leave coming to him. I believe he has already left Edinburgh. He will be gone for some weeks. Two months,” he added for good measure.

  Two months was a long time. By then it would be December and the passes into the Highlands would be closed. James did not want to have to choose between seeking satisfaction from Lieutenant Williams or returning to Glenmuir for the winter and allowing Harris the opportunity to arrange a new posting for his errant lieutenant.

  “Where was he going?” James demanded briskly.

  “Ah, going?”

  “Yes, you said Williams had left the city. For where? His home? London? Where?”

  “Well, ah, I don’t, ah, know.”

  James leaned forward once again. “Listen to me, Harris. Wherever Williams has gone, I shall find him. If you would like to hear his side of the story, I suggest you locate him first. I will allow you two days to seek him out. When I return I want to know exactly how you intend to punish him.”