Pursuit of Princes (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 5)

by Julia Brannan

  Caroline looked across at her husband, and softened. He was not a grumpy man by nature, but the last weeks had taken their toll on him. Even in the dim orange glow of the fires she could see the shadows under his eyes. He had lost weight too. Hopefully now the rebels had been soundly defeated he would be able to spend more time at home.

  Not tonight, however.

  “We have to attend at least one party, Edwin,” she reasoned gently. “We must be seen to be celebrating William’s victory, and this one is as good as any. At least we know everyone, and there will be no contentious people there.”

  “That’s true. But there will be no interesting people there either.”

  “Thomas will be there.”

  “I see Thomas every day in parliament,” Edwin contested, determined not to be consoled.

  Caroline sighed.

  “Alright,” she said. “Let’s get this over with, and then tomorrow we can spend the whole day together, just the three of us. We’ll give the servants the afternoon off and stay in our dressing-gowns all day. Or do you have to be in parliament?”

  “No, I do not have to be in parliament, and yes, that sounds like heaven,” said Edwin, finally brightening. The carriage moved again, travelled another few yards and came to a halt. “At this rate by the time we get there the whole thing will be over.” He looked out of the window again. “We’re not far away now. We could walk from here.”

  “You could walk from here,” Caroline said. “I, however, could not.” She gestured down to her dress, the voluminous skirts of which took up the whole of the bench seat, and at her matching delicate silk slippers. “I would rather arrive late than covered in filth.”

  In spite of setting off half an hour early, they were nearly an hour late, and when they arrived at Grosvenor Square the party was in full swing and most of the guests were already there. In view of the short notice, Lord and Lady Winter had decided against a formal dinner; instead a line of tables, positively groaning with food, had been set up at one end of the great hall, with small circular tables and chairs dotted around the edges of the room, at which guests could sit to eat. The centre of the room had been cleared for dancing, but at the moment it was thronged with groups of people chatting animatedly.

  The hall was ablaze with light from two enormous crystal chandeliers which hung from the ceiling of the room, and due to the mildness of the evening the windows had all been opened to allow the heat from over a hundred candles to dissipate. Through them the sound of bells could clearly be heard even over the cacophony of the musicians tuning their instruments in preparation for the dancing, and the chatter of the multitude.

  Glancing around the room Caroline had to admit that she was impressed; to arrange such a vast quantity of food at such short notice, including a marchpane subtlety of the battlefield complete with soldiers, horses and cannon, was a feat in itself; the cooks must be on their knees with fatigue. But how Lady Winter had managed to come by an ensemble of musicians, when absolutely everyone was throwing a party tonight, was beyond Caroline.

  One thing was certain, though; this was a clear demonstration of the influence and power of the host and hostess, which, after all, was the overriding purpose of the evening, and far more important than the stated reason for the party - patriotism and relief at the defeat of the Jacobite army.

  Caroline deftly lifted two glasses of wine from the tray carried by a passing footman, and handing one to Edwin, braced herself to be greeted by her hosts, who were bearing down on the late arrivals, Anne Cunningham trailing in their wake.

  “Mr and Mrs Harlow!” cried Lady Winter, beaming at them. “We had given up on you arriving at all!”

  “Our apologies,” said Edwin, bowing. “We set off early, anticipating that the roads would be difficult to negotiate, but we underestimated just how crowded they would be. It seems that the whole city is celebrating.”

  Lord Winter sniffed.

  “It is quite ridiculous,” he stated. “One cannot set foot outside the door without being accosted by the drunken rabble. The gutters are littered with them, lying in their own vomit and filth. The militia should be called out to deal with them.”

  His wife winced at this unconventional greeting, and patted his hand, as one might a petulant child.

  “Really, Bartholomew, I am sure our guests do not wish to hear about the common people. We are here to celebrate the glorious victory of our dear prince in a proper manner, with dancing and music.”

  “I think it is commendable that the population wish to celebrate the victory,” Anne put in tentatively. “After all, they stood to lose the most, had the rebels entered London.”

  Caroline looked at her and smiled encouragingly. It was the first time she had heard Anne volunteer an opinion at all, let alone in public.

  “They hardly stood to lose more than the king, madam!” Lord Winter retorted. Anne blushed patchily and subsided immediately, mortified. Her eyes filled with tears.

  Caroline tried to think of something encouraging to say, but was forestalled by Lady Winter, who took hold of Caroline’s hands and held her at arm’s length, examining her dress.

  “I must say that your dress is utterly exquisite!” she exclaimed, eyeing Caroline’s chiné silk gown with admiration. It was beautiful; heavy cream silk, woven with a pattern of red flowers and green foliage. The outlines of the flowers were blurred, giving a watercolour effect. “Where on earth did you come by such material? I have never seen anything like it!”

  Edwin looked at his wife properly, noticing for the first time that evening not just how beautiful the dress was, but how flawlessly beautiful she was, too.

  I have neglected her these last months, he thought. I must remedy that, now the worst is over.

  Lady Winter was turning her round now, exclaiming over the workmanship of the seamstress and the apparent lack of any seam in the skirts. The pattern looked familiar to Edwin, but he couldn’t remember where he had seen it before. But that’s not really surprising, he told himself. I’m so exhausted it’s a miracle I can remember my own name. He suppressed a yawn, and tried to concentrate on the conversation, reminding himself that tomorrow he would stay in bed all morning, and spend the whole afternoon with his wife and son.

  “I believe it came from Paris,” Caroline was saying. “It was a gift from a dear friend.”

  “Would that we all had such dear friends,” Lady Winter enthused.

  Edwin remembered where he had seen the material before.

  “And you are wearing your own hair!” Lady Winter continued. Before Caroline could ascertain whether that was a compliment or an insult, her hostess continued, “that style is so becoming! You must tell me who dressed it for you.”

  Caroline eyed the older woman suspiciously. She hated wigs, and always wore her own hair. And whilst her maid had taken some pains to dress it well, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Wilhelmina was laying it on thick tonight.

  “My maid,” Caroline replied. “She is a little out of practice, as Miss Browne normally dresses my hair, but I think she made a tolerable job of it.”

  “Indeed she has!” exclaimed Lady Winter. “Really, it is most inconsiderate of Miss Browne to depart the city at such a crucial moment, when I am desperately in need of her skills. There are so many balls to attend, and Lord Winter and I intended to visit St James’s this week, you know, to offer our personal congratulations to His Majesty.”

  “This is what comes of depending upon the lower classes, Wilhelmina,” Lord Winter interposed. “They are fickle and unreliable at the best of times.”

  “I am sure that Miss Browne would not have left the city at such a time, were her errand not urgent,” Caroline commented. “After all, she is a businesswoman, and a most astute one. She stood to make a fortune from her talents this week, especially since she now makes house calls for a small consideration.”

  Sarah Browne in fact made house calls to Caroline for no consideration whatsoever, but she was not about to reveal that to the
biggest gossipmonger in London.

  “Sarah is visiting her family,” Anne said. Everyone turned to look at her and she looked down at her hands, and with a conscious effort stopped wringing them together.

  “That is hardly urgent, surely?” Lady Winter said.

  “Her sister is about to give birth, and their parents will give no assistance. I believe they are very religious, and the child will be fatherless,” Anne explained, blushing furiously.

  Lord Winter sniffed and looked down his nose at Caroline.

  “Well, there you have it,” he said disdainfully. “Your astute businesswoman has abandoned her clients to attend someone who is clearly no better than she should be, and who has brought disgrace upon her family. No doubt the chit’s father has thrown her out, and quite rightly so. And this is the woman whom you allow into your houses.” He made a sweeping gesture which took in half the room. “Why, it’s a miracle we have any silver left at all. One cannot –”

  “I think it is commendable of Sarah to abandon everything to take care of her poor sister, who must be distraught. It is the Christian thing to do,” Anne interrupted, to the amazement of all, including herself.

  Lord Winter stared at his former charge with utter astonishment, in the same way he would had he petted a small fluffy kitten which had then promptly proceeded to shred his hand with her claws.

  Caroline smiled. Anne’s friendship with Harriet and Philippa was doing her a world of good; she was far more confident now than she had been six months ago. Nevertheless, having asserted herself twice in the space of a few minutes, Anne looked about to faint. As amusing as it was to watch Bartholomew’s mouth hanging open in shock, Caroline decided to intervene before he could come to his senses and say something which would destroy his great-niece completely.

  “I must ask you, Wilhelmina, before you are swept away by your other guests,” she said, “where you came by that beautiful chandelier. I am searching for one for the salon at Summer Hill, and such a one as that would be just the thing.”

  Lady Winter beamed.

  “Well, it is unique, Bohemian crystal, you know,” she said. “Each piece was hand cut by a craftsman, which is why it reflects the light so beautifully.”

  It did. The candlelight enriched the mellow gold of the wall mouldings, and the faceted crystals cast a myriad of tiny rainbows round the room.

  “It is a fitting accessory to your delightful house, my dear Lady Winter,” came a male voice from behind Caroline, making her jump. She turned and curtseyed. The gentleman bowed, then taking her hand he politely kissed the back of it before relinquishing it.

  “William!” she said, smiling with genuine warmth. She liked Highbury, always had. It was a shame he had such a wastrel for a son. “What a pleasure to see you. I thought you to be at your house in Sussex.”

  “I returned to London as soon as I heard the good news,” the earl said. “I would not have missed the celebrations for the world. And how is your country house coming along, Caroline?”

  “Very well,” she replied. “The building work is almost finished, and soon I will be looking to decorate and furnish it. I am thinking to commission William Kent to design the garden, if Henry can be persuaded to part with him.”

  Edwin would never get used to his wife addressing the highest nobles in the land so familiarly. He could never imagine calling the Earl of Highbury ‘William’, any more than he would think to address the Prime Minister as ‘Henry’. Not yet, anyway.

  “Oh, I am sure he will!” Lady Winter enthused. “After all, it is most important for those in power to have a country home in which to entertain distinguished guests! And the garden is such a crucial part, a setting in which the jewel of the house is displayed to perfection.”

  The party, discussing interior design and landscaping, moved further into the room, where they were soon joined by Edwin’s friend Thomas Fortesque, and by Anne’s cousins-in-law, Lord Edward, Isabella and Clarissa. Pleasantries were exchanged. Charlotte, it seemed, was indisposed and had regretfully been unable to attend the party.

  Lord Edward seemed also to be somewhat indisposed, Caroline noted with wry amusement. By the way he looked at her it was clear he had not forgotten that at their last meeting she had called him the cousin of a traitor. She was surprised that he had joined them at all. She had expected him to steer well clear of her and Edwin tonight.

  She smiled sweetly at him and curtseyed, forcing him to bow politely to her. As she rose, Edwin placed his arm around her waist and squeezed it gently. She heeded the warning, although in truth she was not in the mood for conflict tonight. She just wanted to get through the evening, go home, and spend some precious time with her husband, of whom she had seen far too little since the Pretender’s son had landed in Scotland last July.

  Now that there were a number of men in the group, the talk inevitably turned to the ostensible reason for the party.

  “So, Edwin, Thomas,” said Highbury, “has there been any further news from Scotland?”

  “Dispatches are coming in all the time, my lord, but at the moment we know only that the Young Pretender’s forces are scattered, and that he is on the run. We presume that he will attempt to return to France along with many of the prominent rebels,” Thomas said.

  “Although of course there is always the chance that he will try to rally his forces and attempt another rising, perhaps a summer campaign,” Edwin added.

  “Preposterous!” Lord Winter stated. “Are not the majority of his forces killed?”

  “Indeed, a large number, perhaps as many as two thousand were killed in the battle – the numbers are still uncertain - but many more escaped. And don’t forget some three thousand or more were not at the battle at all, being on expeditions around the country. Of course a number of those who escaped were wounded and may have died since, but even so, we must allow that there are still enough rebels at large to cause us a great deal of trouble, should they be allowed to organise again.”

  “Then it must be of primary importance to ascertain the whereabouts of the Pretender’s son and arrest him,” said Highbury. “I think that would be the best way to prevent another rising. After that, I am sure the common men will return to their homes and abandon the idea of a Stuart restoration.”

  “That may be true,” mused Thomas. “But I believe the duke intends to teach the rebels a lesson. It has always been his view that they were treated far too leniently after the ’15.”

  “Quite right too,” put in Lord Edward. “Hang the lot of ‘em, Charles included. That’ll put a stop to them, once and for all.”

  “We have to catch him first,” Highbury pointed out. “Is there any news of his whereabouts?”

  “It is known that he spent the night after the battle with Lord Lovat – the Chief of Clan Fraser,” Thomas added for the benefit of the ladies present. “Nine hundred men have been dispatched to attack all the rebels they may find on the Fraser lands. But I doubt that Charles would have remained there. I am sure he will keep moving for now, in the hope of taking ship or of organising a rendezvous with his men.”

  “Is there not a thirty thousand pound reward out for information leading to his capture?” asked Caroline.

  “There is indeed,” affirmed Highbury. “But that reward was offered last August, and no one has come forward to claim it yet.”

  “Is that not incredible? Thirty thousand pounds is an enormous sum even for someone of means, but many of the Jacobites are just common men, are they not, living in extreme poverty, if the newspapers are to be believed.”

  “The Highlanders have a strange notion of honour, though,” Highbury said. “They hold their honour higher than anything.”

  “Honour?!” spluttered Lord Winter. “How can you even mention the word ‘honour’ where these traitorous savages are concerned? There is no honour in rising against your anointed king!”

  Caroline opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She was determined to say nothing controversial tonight.


  “But they do not consider George to be their anointed king,” Highbury replied. “They believe James to be the rightful king and Charles the rightful heir. And misguided though they are, they are willing to lose everything to fight for what they believe in. I am not sure such men would betray their prince, not even for thirty thousand pounds. And there is something admirable in that, I think.”

  There was a shocked silence whilst everybody absorbed the fact that the Earl of Highbury found something admirable about traitors. Caroline was amused. Had she said such a thing the whole company would have challenged her, dismissed her in fact as an ignorant woman. But nobody wanted to make an enemy of the vastly powerful Earl of Highbury. And he could get away with such remarkable observations, as his allegiance to the Hanoverian regime was indisputable.

  As was hers, but like Highbury, she did find it admirable that no one had yet given the Pretender’s son up for such a sum.

  “Perhaps once they realise their cause is dead, they will be more willing to take the money,” Edwin said. “Because by all accounts, Cumberland intends to take immediate steps to pacify Scotland, whilst the rebels are disorganised. And we must do our utmost to ensure that the ringleaders do not succeed in escaping to France to cause more trouble for us.”

  “Do you think Sir Anthony will escape to France?” Lydia asked. Thomas frowned at his daughter. By unspoken agreement the name of Sir Anthony Peters was not mentioned when in company with people who had been completely taken in by him. As that number of people was very considerable, the name of Sir Anthony Peters was not mentioned at all in public.

  “I am sure he will try, if he is not there already, Lydia,” Thomas replied, hoping that would put an end to the subject.

  “Or if he was not killed in battle,” Highbury added.

  Lord Winter sniffed loudly.

  “I cannot imagine such a person venturing within fifty miles of a battlefield,” he said scornfully. “Why the man used to have hysterics if he got the tiniest spot of mud on his ridiculous clothes. No doubt he is already in France with his whore, prancing about Louis’ Court, and attending mass. I never trusted Elizabeth; she was far too forward for my liking. I remember how entranced they were by the papist Court when we met them at Versailles. Why they even attended a mass there! The French King and his whole Court were in attendance. It was an appalling experience.” He sniffed again to signify his disgust for Louis’ Court, and France in general.