The Spider's Touch

by Patricia Wynn

  She could see from his doubting expression that St. Mars was only partly reassured by her statement. He did not press her, though, but looking at his watch, said that he ought to be going or else Tom would be in a fret.

  As he got up to take his leave, Hester hurried to stand, too. She saw that St. Mars had recovered his balance and should be ready to ride.

  She stopped him as he moved to open the secret door. “But what will happen to Lord Lovett, my lord? Regardless of how he deceived me, I cannot bear the thought that Sir Humphrey’s murderer will go unpunished.”

  He grinned. “You can rest assured that Lord Lovett will soon be regretting those murders, Mrs. Kean. I have a solution that should satisfy us both.”

  “You mean to follow him to France?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry. The punishment I’ve planned for him will not cost me the least bit of trouble. I have failed to catch him two times already and will not leave the third to chance.”

  He clearly did not wish to tell her exactly what he had in mind, and she was willing to let the subject drop in favour of one that was far more important to her.

  “And then what, my lord? Will you stay in France or do you mean to return?”

  The last time she had asked him this question, he had not been able to reply with anything definite, and her question had obviously disturbed him.

  This time, he answered her cheerfully enough, “I have a few journeys to make, but I expect to be back before the end of the summer. I shall count on seeing you then.”

  He made her a sweeping bow and stepped through the door. As he started down, he seemed to recall something and turned back to lean one hand on the door frame above his head.

  “I have not thanked you for the use of your bed,” he said. “The next time you invite me into it, I shall hope to be a more entertaining guest. Goodbye, Mrs. Kean.”

  It took Hester more than a few seconds to digest these words, and by the time she had—and had gasped—St. Mars was gone. Her mind spun, trying to discern another meaning for them, but she could only think of one.

  “He could not have meant that,” she told herself, as she closed and locked the secret door. It was impossible, especially since he must have seen her sleeping with her mouth gaping open. For all she knew, she might even have snored! He must have meant something else entirely.

  But, turn the phrases over in her mind, as she did the rest of that night, and for many weeks thereafter, she could not, for the life of her, think of what it was.

  * * * *

  In the Palace of St. Germain, high above Paris, the court of James Francis Stuart carried on without his presence. This was the home that had been given to his father, James II of England and James VI of Scotland, when the English had driven him out. King Louis XIV, himself, had welcomed his Catholic cousin on the terrace of St. Germain and, greeting him with the embrace of a brother, had given him the country palace which had served the French kings before the construction of Versailles.

  More than twenty years later, the French had been forced to expel his son, the Pretender, in their peace with England, but he could not house his courtiers in Bar. So they remained here, living off a pension that belonged to James’s mother, Mary of Modena, the former Queen of England. With nothing much to do, they intrigued, while waiting to hear that the English were ready for their true sovereign to return.

  * * * *

  Lord Lovett arrived at St. Germain only days after the news that the Duke of Ormonde had escaped arrest in England and taken refuge in Paris with his patron, Lord Bolingbroke. The failure of the rising had cast a pall over the court, particularly the Queen, but it provided Lord Lovett with a perfect excuse. Everyone assumed immediately that he had fled the threat of his own arrest, and he was warmly welcomed by the Queen, who promised to do what she could to maintain him.

  The court was not as much to his liking as he had expected it, however, since the Queen’s strict devotion to her religion put a serious damper on amusements. The poverty of the court was distressing, but its pious tone was scarcely tolerable. Lord Lovett decided that he would remain just as long as required to secure an income, before seeking greater pleasure at Versailles. The Earl of Stair, the English ambassador, would be there, and he might be willing to arrange an exchange of money for secrets.

  * * * *

  A fortnight later, he was leaving a game of cards, where he had neatly managed to increase his wealth, when he found Madame de Mézières at his elbow.

  He bowed immediately to hide a sudden nervousness. This was the first he had seen Eleanor since coming to St. Germain, and, of late, he had wondered about the danger she might pose. Mrs. Kean could have told Lady Oglethorpe that he had murdered her friends. Whether Lady Fury would believe her or not, he did not know. Standing before her daughter now, however, he thanked the sense of caution, which had prevented him from divulging his reason for murdering Sir Humphrey to Mrs. Kean. Without that piece of the puzzle, it would be only her word against his, and no matter how clever she was, he defied her to out-connive him.

  After the first exchange of pleasantries, she said, “I have a friend who wishes to be made known to you, my lord. May I present the Vicomte de St. Mars?”

  She turned and a young gentleman stepped forward. As they completed their bows, Lord Lovett had a faint sensation that he had met this gentleman before. He studied the young man’s aquiline features, fair colouring, and athletic grace, and the impression grew stronger, though he could not recall where they had met.

  “I understand that you are recently come from England,” the vicomte said, and his voice seemed very familiar.

  Lord Lovett was mildly surprised to discover from the young man’s accent that he was English, but he said, “That is correct. I’m afraid that our country has grown too dangerous for the likes of us, monsieur. But only for the present, I am sure.

  “What brings your lordship here?” he said, in return.

  Before replying, Lord St. Mars asked if he would like to take a stroll on the terrace.

  Madame de Mézières seemed to have abandoned them, so, relieved to have come through that particular meeting unscathed, Lord Lovett fell into a leisurely pace beside him. Together they left the salon and its courtiers behind.

  “You do not appear to know my history,” the vicomte said. “My father was killed in his Majesty’s service.”

  “Indeed? You will have to forgive me, monsieur, but I am not familiar with all the French titles. Was your father the former Vicomte de St. Mars?”

  “No.”

  They had walked through the door onto the terrace, and, in front of him on the drive, Lord Lovett spotted a French prêvot with his lieutenant and troop of archers, standing by a coach. The door of the coach was open.

  He halted.

  St. Mars turned and met his eyes. “My father was the Earl of Hawkhurst. He was murdered.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.” The name could not be a coincidence. And, suddenly, Lord Lovett knew where he had met this young man.

  The mask and the darkness had softened his features.

  And, then, he recollected another stranger. A fop, with his face covered in so much paint that all Lord Lovett had registered at the time was the number of patches that he wore.

  Cursing inwardly, Lord Lovett inclined his head and bestowed an angry smile on the man who had beaten him.

  Lord St. Mars made a gesture to beckon King Louis’s men. They came and took Lord Lovett by the arms.

  “Do you know where they are taking me?” he asked.

  “I believe, his Majesty King Louis was heard to mention the citadel of Pignerol. You should be pleased with the company there. Though I hear that the mountain air can be very cold. Your servant, my lord.”

  The last that Lord Lovett saw of the Viscount St. Mars was an elegant bow, before the archers turned him and forced him into the coach.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I have tried to be as fair as possible to the historical figures portrayed i
n this book, but the job has been complicated by the bias of survivors and the lack of references. In the case of King George I, the English formed such strong prejudices against him that I worked very hard to get a truer picture of his character. After reading his biography by Ragnhild Hatton (by all accounts the most balanced since the author was the only one to use German references), I was almost persuaded to give him more benefit of the doubt. But, at the end of the day, it is very hard to like a man who imprisons his wife and forbids her ever to see her children again, and later tries to do the same thing to his son.

  There is one error about George perpetuated in this novel, however. There is no foundation for the belief that he committed incest with Madame von Kielmansegg. It appears that she was his illegitimate half-sister, but she was not his mistress as the English believed. Since neither George nor his father publicly acknowledged their bastards, however well they treated them otherwise, their relationship was never explained. Madame von Kielmansegg accompanied her brother to England because she had run up extensive debts in Hanover and wanted to escape them. Since she arrived with his real mistress, Madame von Schulenberg, the English assumed that she was one, also. This rumor was actively promoted by the Jacobites to give the English a disgust of their German king. The falsehood was so firmly entrenched that I found it repeated in reference after reference, and only learned the truth when reading the Hatton biography.

  George never did learn English, and few of his courtiers spoke either German or French, so the contemporary accounts of him by his English subjects are very rare and biased. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu called him an amiable dolt. Mary Lady Cowper, lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Wales, described him as everything charming and amiable until he banished her mistress from Court, at which point she grew very silent on the subject of the King.

  The only quote ascribed to him in the Oxford Book of Quotations is, “I hate all boets and bainters.” In some references, this is attributed to George II, his son, but it may have been one of the few opinions they shared. The proof seems to be in the pudding, for unlike the Stuart years, the period of both Georges’ reigns is fairly bereft of art and poetry, except what was produced under other people’s patronage.

  The English greatly resented George’s German servants. He brought about seventy-five with him initially, but few remained. The incident I relate involving Madame Schulenberg and the mob did take place, and her response, “I have only come for your goots!” is one of the most famous stories of George’s reign. Both she and Madame Kielmansegg grew wealthy, selling their influence to help the English obtain Court positions.

  The “niece” Madame Schulenberg wanted to bring over as a companion was one of her daughters by George I. George spent most of his evenings with his mistress and daughters, and by all accounts it was a happy family circle. I can understand that he might not love his wife by an arranged marriage, and his having a mistress. It was his cruelty to his wife and legitimate children that is harder to forgive.

  Pope’s Essay on Man, whose verses I have used, were dedicated to Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, mentioned only peripherally in this novel since he had already fled to France, but whose actions as minister and Jacobite were instrumental in the creation of the events I have chronicled. As a Catholic, Pope had Tory sympathies and numbered the Tory ministers among his friends, as well as the Earl of Peterborough, also mentioned. This essay was written years after the events in this novel, but to me, it seems to be peppered with references to them. It certainly shows a wisdom that none of the participants seem to have had.

  The fictional characters in this novel were suggested to me by a number of actual Jacobites, particularly the character of Sir Humphrey Cove. He is taken from accounts of Sir Thomas Cave, who apparently did write his friends from time to time to ask them how the conspiracy was coming along. Lord Lovett was loosely based on one Cameron, Lord Lovat. There was also a Colonel Porter among the Jacobites, but I know nothing about him. I just used a similar name.

  The Oglethorpes and their escapades, of course, were real. In later years Lady Oglethorpe’s son, James, founded the Georgia Colony. He was the only member of the family not to become involved in the Stuart cause. One of his close friends died as a result of the horrible conditions in an English prison, and he dedicated most of his energy to the founding of a penal colony as a humanitarian measure to give debtors a second chance.

  Between the hardcover release of this novel and this paperback edition, I have discovered two errors in my research. Rather than correct them for the paper edition, I shall confess them here. I gave Lady Oglethorpe a French accent, based on the fact that she spent most of her girlhood at the Stuart Court where French would have been the language spoken, and also on the fact that her two eldest daughters spent most of their lives in France and could not read or write English. In spite of my efforts, I was mistaken about her origins until I found an out-of-print book, The Oglethorpe Ladies and the Jacobite Conspiracies by Patricia Kneas Hill, published in 1977 in Atlanta. This excellent reference says that Lady Oglethorpe was born Eleanor Wall in Ireland. I highly recommend it. My portrayal of Lady Oglethorpe is not very flattering, but she must have been nicknamed “Lady Fury” for some reason.

  John Menzies was truly a Jacobite agent, but not with the job I have given him. The portrait I have drawn was based upon another Jacobite, Lancellot Ord. Abrasive and arrogant, he alienated many of James’s supporters in England by making excessive demands upon them, including John Menzies, who was his contact in England. My posthumous apologies to the real John Menzies, who had to put up with him, and to his descendants. This mistake occurred when I lost my notes on these conspirators and could not find my original source, which I have since done. My research did tell me that Menzies’s contact in England was a printer by the name of Blackwell, but I was not able to discover the location of Blackwell’s shop. It is a safe bet that it was near Stationers’ Hall, since most printers were located nearby. When apart, Blackwell and Menzies corresponded by letter in a code as from doctor to patient.

  The details of how Jacobites entered and left the country, transported messages, and referred to James were taken from reference works.

  The eclipse, which I referred to in my first Blue Satan novel, apparently did take place. I could not find any report of it in the London newspapers, except for the notice a month later that a child had been born with the sign of the eclipse on her forehead. So I must contradict my note in the first edition of The Birth of Blue Satan. The eclipse that was predicted by Mr. Halley did, in fact, occur.

  As this series is an ongoing research project, I expect more apologies will be forthcoming at the end of book three, The Motive from the Deed.

  Copyright © 2002 by Patricia Wynn

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Pemberley Press, P O Box 1027

  Corona del Mar, CA 92625

  Cover design: kat&dog studios

  Art: Anonymous, Interior View, La Fenice, Venice, Italy

  By permission of Alinari/SEAT/Art Resource, NY

  This book is dedicated to

  Mabel Joubert Smith

  Acknowledgements

  A great many thanks to Laura Wallace of Sour Lake, Texas, without whom, among other things, I would never have discovered where the Duke of Ormonde lived in June, 1715. Thanks, too, to the other members of the 18th-19th Century List on Yahoo.groups, an amazing gathering of history enthusiasts in the best of 18th Century tradition.

  These books could never have been written without the resources of the University of Texas Libraries in Austin, including the Harry Ransom Center with its priceless treasures.

  I am also indebted to a number of sites on the World Wide Web for leads on antique road maps of Kent, Sussex, Middlesex, and Surrey, histories of St. James’s Palace a
nd Richmond, and the out-of-print books that have been so essential to this work.

  And special thanks to Dean James, Rosemary Stevens, Barbara Peters, Leila Taylor, and Kathy Harig for their encouragement and support for this series.

  The verses I have used in this novel are from Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man, which was dedicated to Pope’s friend Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke.

  Historical Background

  From 1701 to 1713, a Grand Alliance of nations fought the War of the Spanish Succession against King Louis XIV of France. At issue for two members of the alliance, England and Holland, was the balance of power between Protestant and Catholic countries in Europe, which Louis had disturbed by placing his grandson Philip on the Spanish throne.

  Known as the Sun King, Louis XIV was the longest-reigning and most powerful king in the history of Europe. His kingdom had ruled supreme through decades of war with its neighbors. Louis marshaled 450,000 soldiers for this new conflict, but in spite of the dysfunctional nature of the opposing alliance, his armies were beaten again and again by an English general, John Churchill—the first Duke of Marlborough and the greatest military genius of the 18th Century.

  By 1706, France was beaten and sinking under enormous debts. When Louis made overtures of peace that year, and again in 1709, however, offering everything the alliance had demanded, he was refused. The allies’ goal had become the total destruction of French power in Europe, with the added benefit of acquiring bits and pieces of French territory.

  The English people were far from united on the issue, their opinions dividing strictly along party lines. The Whigs, who represented the trading interests, wanted to eliminate France as a competitor in their overseas markets. The Tories, whose strength lay among the country squires, were tired of manning and funding the war. Riding in on a wave of war exhaustion near the end of Queen Anne’s reign, the Tory ministry led by Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, and Robert Harley (later Earl of Oxford) carried on secret talks with the French to end the war.