Pursuit of Princes (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 5)

by Julia Brannan

  “Did you attend the mass yourself, then, Bartholomew?” Highbury asked innocently.

  Caroline gave a most unladylike snort of laughter, which she quickly attempted to turn into a cough, covering her face with her handkerchief.

  “Are you unwell, my lady? Should I fetch a glass of punch for you?” a familiar voice asked her. She turned to see Lord Daniel standing to her right, feigning concern. There will be no contentious people there, she had told Edwin. Wrong. She was grateful that her handkerchief covered the instinctive look of distaste that crossed her features. Much as she liked the Earl of Highbury she couldn’t stand his son, and found it very difficult to hide her dislike.

  “No, I am quite well,” she replied curtly before turning pointedly away from him.

  “Have you heard from Richard, Anne?” Isabella asked, clearly anxious to divert the topic of conversation away from her cousin, but thereby earning a look of gratitude from Lord Winter.

  “No, not as yet,” replied Anne.

  “Well, I am sure he is very busy at the moment, and will write as soon as he has time,” Isabella reassured her cousin-in-law.

  “Unless he was killed in battle,” Edward said tactlessly. “He was at Culloden, was he not?”

  Isabella winced.

  “I am not too worried on that score, my lord,” Anne said coolly. “I have heard the casualties amongst the dragoons were very light, not above twenty in total. And his name is not mentioned in the list of dead published in the newspapers.”

  Yes, thought Caroline approvingly. You have changed a great deal. Well done Harriet, and Philippa. Richard was in for a shock when he returned home. If he returned home. She wondered whether Anne was hoping Richard was among the twenty dragoon casualties. She knew she was.

  The dancing was announced, and the conversational groups moved from the centre of the floor to its edges, Caroline taking the opportunity to get away from Lord Daniel by accepting his father’s offer to dance.

  “You seem to have recovered well from your coughing fit, Caroline,” the earl remarked as they took their places on the floor. Caroline glanced across at him. His expression was solicitous, but his eyes were merry.

  “Thank you, yes. It was merely a temporary affliction.” She smiled. The music began, and the couples stepped forward, pliéd and turned to greet each other.

  “You seemed upset by Bartholomew’s comment,” he said. “I thought to divert him from uttering any further remarks on the subject. You were close to Elizabeth, were you not?”

  “I was,” Caroline said.

  They moved apart, looped around, and did not meet again until the end of the dance.

  “Have you heard anything from Elizabeth?” the earl asked casually as he led her from the floor.

  Shocked, Caroline stopped and turned to look at him, but his face was unreadable.

  “If I had, William, do you not think I would have informed the authorities immediately?” she said.

  “I beg your pardon, Caroline,” he responded at once. “I did not mean to offend you. After all Elizabeth is thought by most to have been duped by Anthony, as were we all. In view of that I thought perhaps your sense of loyalty to a friend might have overridden your sense of duty. She was very lovely. I would like to know if she was safe.”

  “Have you heard from Anthony?” Caroline asked. “You were close to him, were you not?”

  The earl smiled. “Touché, my lady,” he said. “No, I have not heard from Anthony. I do not think he would correspond with me.”

  “In view of your son’s actions?” Caroline asked.

  “Ah, Daniel,” Highbury said tiredly. “No. In view of the fact that he would not wish to compromise his friends.”

  “Did he not compromise all of us by his actions?” Caroline retorted.

  “Indeed he did, from the king downward. And in doing so, he compromised none of us after all, did he? Thank you for the dance, Caroline. It was a pleasure.” He bowed and moved away.

  Caroline contemplated joining another group but wanted a moment alone to digest what Highbury had said. If anyone else had said what he had, she would have thought them to be accusing her of withholding crucial information, but his tone had been anything but accusatory.

  And he was right, she thought uncomfortably. My loyalty to Elizabeth did override my duty to King George. She was not in the mood for further conversation at the moment, and decided to get some food instead. She made her way over to the table, choosing from amongst the many delicacies on offer.

  “I would recommend the pheasant,” Lord Daniel said from beside her. “And the quails’ eggs in aspic are delightful.”

  Caroline closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she replied. “But I have already made my choice.”

  “Would you care for some marchpane then? It is really exquisite.”

  Why was he persisting in talking to her? She disliked him, and he knew it. She looked up at him just in time to see him bite the head off a kilted almond-paste rebel, chewing with relish.

  “No thank you. Too much sweetness nauseates me.”

  “A glass of champagne, perhaps?”

  She put her plate down on the table and turned to him.

  “If you are looking to oil your way into a political position, it is Edwin you must try to win over, not myself. I assure you, I am a lost cause in that respect,” she stated bluntly, hoping he would now go away and leave her alone. In the distance she saw Edwin look up from his conversation with his political cronies and start to make his excuses, clearly noting by her posture that she would appreciate his presence.

  “Really, Mrs Harlow, I am surprised that you are so hostile to me. After all, the king himself has thanked me for my services to the crown, and these are delicate times. Anyone suspected of Jacobite sympathies is certain to be treated harshly by the authorities.” He smiled smugly down at her.

  She had picked up her plate intending to meet Edwin halfway across the room, but at Daniel’s words she slammed it down on the table again, hard enough to make the serving-man jump.

  “You forget who you are, sir,” she stated icily, every inch the aristocrat now. “May I remind you that my family was fighting for a constitutional monarchy when your ancestor was being created the first Earl of Highbury by the Stuart King Charles, when he was in exile, as I remember. How dare you speak to me of loyalty, you insolent brat!”

  “If you are referring to Sir Anthony, my lord,” Edwin added, who had abandoned politeness on seeing his wife smash her plate down and had joined her in time to hear her final sentence, “then I can assure you that either of us would have given him over to the authorities without a moment’s hesitation, had we suspected what he was.”

  “And yet your wife seems to have taken a dislike to me, sir,” Daniel retorted. “Perhaps she resents me for giving Anthony up after all.”

  “You are mistaken,” Caroline interjected before Edwin could come to her defence. “I have not taken a dislike to you, I have never liked you. But yes, I do resent your reasons for giving Anthony up, because they were not motivated by loyalty to the crown but by petty spite against Beth, who quite sensibly rejected your marriage proposal, and who was the clear victor in your impromptu duel at Prince Frederick’s.”

  The protagonists had been oblivious to the fact that half the company were by now listening to this heated exchange with interest, but on hearing Caroline’s final sentence several of them laughed and one gentleman in blue velvet actually applauded.

  Daniel flushed scarlet and looked at the company, suddenly aware of how many people had observed the argument, and how few of them were on his side. He turned abruptly and left the room.

  Caroline picked up her plate once again, retrieving a slice of pork pie which had leapt off it when she had crashed it down earlier. She turned to her husband.

  “Would you get me a glass of punch, Edwin?” she asked calmly, as though nothing untoward had happened.

  He moved to do
her bidding, and the onlookers, realising that nothing else of interest was going to happen, resumed their conversations.

  * * *

  “How do you do it?” he asked once they were safely in their carriage and making their way home.

  “How do I do what?” Caroline asked, sitting back on the seat. She flexed her toes carefully, and winced. Her shoes were a little tight.

  “Wipe the floor with somebody, and then proceed to spend the next three hours as though nothing whatsoever had happened?”

  “Nothing whatsoever had happened. I have thought him an insolent jumped-up puppy for a long time. It was a relief to tell him so, and even more of a relief to be applauded for it. If we are ever unfortunate enough to attend the same party again, I expect he will keep a good distance away from me. Which is also a relief. Would you have done it?”

  “Called him an insolent brat?”

  “No. Given Anthony up without a moment’s notice.”

  “Of course I would, had I known. Any one of us would have done,” Edwin responded immediately. “But I am glad I did not have to,” he added quietly after a pause.

  She leaned forward in her seat and kissed him.

  “What was that for?” he asked, smiling broadly.

  “Am I not allowed to kiss my husband without a reason?” his wife retorted. She sat back again, spreading her skirts across the bench. Edwin eyed the gown appreciatively.

  “A very dear friend,” he commented.

  “You remember, then.” She laughed.

  “I didn’t at first, but Anthony’s favourite term of endearment was ‘my dear’, so when you used it, it reminded me of him. That dress could be used in evidence against him, you know.”

  “Evidence of what?”

  “Smuggling. I remember you enthusing over the fact that there was enough material to make a dress without a seam, and that the only way he could have come by that was through associating with smugglers.”

  “If he is caught, Edwin, I think being accused of smuggling will be the least of his worries,” Caroline replied. “But enough of that. What on earth was wrong with Wilhelmina tonight?”

  “Nothing, as far as I know. She looked in the peak of health.”

  “No, I mean all the overblown compliments. The dress I can understand, because it is quite unique, but my hair is nothing special, yet she commented extensively on it. And then Edward, who’s avoided me since he tried to tell me who I could associate with, actually approached me voluntarily. Even Daniel was trying to win me over at first, asking me if I wanted champagne!”

  “Ah, they will have heard the rumours, then,” Edwin replied enigmatically.

  “What rumours?”

  “There are rumours floating around the commons that King George is about to bestow titles on a number of politicians to whom he’s particularly grateful.”

  “Really? And are you among them?”

  “I don’t know, but presumably Wilhelmina, Edward and Daniel think so, from what you say.”

  “This is remarkable news, Edwin! Why didn’t you tell me?” Caroline asked.

  Edwin looked at her with some surprise.

  “Firstly, because they are only rumours. Parliament is rife with them, and most of them are unfounded. And secondly, because you couldn’t give a damn about titles and nobility. Unless you’re using them to put down an insolent puppy.”

  Caroline laughed.

  “True. But even so, it’s a great honour to be awarded a peerage. And I have a lot more respect for a title that’s actually been earned. My family’s titles date back so far that most of them can’t remember what the hell our distant ancestor did to get his earldom in the first place. Which means that idiots like Great-Uncle Francis prance around lording it over everyone when they wouldn’t know what true nobility was if it hit them with a cricket bat.”

  “So you’d be honoured to be the wife of a lord, then, in the unlikely event that I become one?” Edwin ventured.

  “I’m honoured to be your wife anyway, Edwin. You’re worth a hundred of most of the peers I know,” she said. “But I’d be very happy if you were rewarded by George for all the work you’ve done over the past months to keep the country in Whig hands.”

  They travelled in happy silence for a while, rejoicing in the fact that the bells had finally, after two days, stopped ringing. Edwin closed his eyes. He couldn’t wait to get home, and to bed. The thought of being able to get a really good night’s sleep and then wake up in the morning with plenty of time to make love to his wife delighted him. He smiled in drowsy anticipation of tomorrow.

  “Speaking of nobles, though, William said a strange thing tonight,” the object of his fantasy suddenly inserted into the silence. Edwin opened his eyes and realised that he had slumped sideways in the seat. He sat up and wiped his face with his hands in an attempt to stay awake until they arrived home.

  “What was that?”

  “He asked me if I’d heard from Elizabeth.”

  “Did you tell him you hadn’t?”

  “No.”

  Edwin was suddenly very wide awake.

  “My God, Caro, you didn’t tell him you had, did you?”

  “Of course I didn’t!” she exclaimed. “I insinuated that if I had I would have gone to the authorities.”

  “Do you think he was trying to trap you into admitting something?” Edwin asked, his mind racing now. Who else knew about the letter Beth had sent? Sarah. Anne. Would they have said anything? Surely not. Sarah was fanatically loyal to Beth, and the letter and Caroline’s response to it had effectively saved her life, and Anne’s child’s life, too.

  “That’s what I thought at first, too,” Caroline mused. “But no, I think he genuinely wanted to know how she was. But that’s not the strange thing.”

  If that wasn’t the strange thing, then Edwin wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was.

  “What was it then?” he asked after a pause in which it was clear Caroline was too busy musing on it to volunteer the information.

  “I asked him if he’d heard from Anthony, and he said no, he didn’t think that Anthony would wish to compromise his friends. I pointed out that he’d already done that. Then William said something like, he had compromised all his friends, from the king down, and by doing so he hadn’t compromised anyone.”

  Edwin digested this in silence for a while.

  “I’ve never thought of it like that before,” he said finally.

  “Neither have I,” agreed Caroline.

  “Do you think Anthony realised that?”

  She thought about the baronet’s final farewell to her, the rib-cracking hug, the profession of love.

  “Yes I do,” she said. “The man’s a genius. And I do believe he cared for us, in his way. They both did. I think he knew all along that we would not suffer unduly were he to be discovered, and I think his refusal to act as Freddie’s godfather was nothing to do with superstition. I think it was because he didn’t want our son to bear the name of a traitor. William is right. And that makes me feel a lot better.”

  “About what?”

  “About the fact that I’m praying that wherever he is, he’s alive and well, and that Beth is too. Because however much he deceived us, I don’t believe he deceived her, not once they were married, anyway. And I believe he loved her from the moment he met her, and risked everything to have her. A love like that is very rare. And although we’ll never know, I’d like to think they are still together and as happy as they can be, given the circumstances. And I would not admit that to anyone else, even under torture,” she finished.

  He reached forward and took her hands in his.

  “I have loved you from the moment I met you too, Caro. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like without you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I know that,” she said. “I feel the same way. And that I would admit, to anyone who cared to ask.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Scotland, Early May 1746.

  “Bas mallaichte!
” Alex cried in frustration. He fell back onto the bed, his face contorted with pain and frustration, his chest heaving.

  He lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling of the cottage until his breathing returned to normal, and then he sat up again, bracing himself on the edge of the bedframe.

  He had waited all morning for the right time to attempt to stand for the first time since his leg had been broken at Culloden, and this was it. His men were all away, either hunting or searching for news, and Peigi had dropped by an hour ago with some food, and had lit a fire. The weather was atrocious; the wind howled down the chimney and the rain battered at the windows. Everyone would be indoors, he thought.

  He was unlikely to be disturbed for several hours; his persistent dour mood had discouraged even the most garrulous clansmen from making social calls. No one wanted to have their head bitten off by the foul-tempered chieftain, so his men had taken to steering well clear of him, unless they had important news to relate which he needed to hear.

  He didn’t blame them for that. In fact he wanted to be left alone, most of the time. His favourite occupation was to just lie there and indulge in memories, to relive again all the precious moments he’d had with Beth, moments that all too often he’d taken for granted at the time, but which were now priceless.

  And breathtakingly painful.

  After recovering consciousness and learning of his wife’s death, he’d spent the best part of a week lying with his face to the wall, alternating between numbness and a heartache so unbearable that he prayed he’d die from it. People had come, lighting fires and bringing him food and drink, then taking the untouched platters away again later. One or two had asked how he was feeling, but he’d ignored them, and they had not persisted.