Although Alex was happy to see so many chiefs willing to continue the rebellion, he distrusted the Fraser chief profoundly and made his misgivings clear to Lochiel once they were alone.
“How can ye trust him, Donald?” he asked. The others had retired for the night, but Broughton, the Cameron chief and Alex, sharing a hut, had slept fitfully due to the pain of their injuries and illness, and so at 3am, all of them having lain awake for a time, Alex lit a candle and retrieved a bottle of brandy from the corner press, which they shared between them while waiting for the dawn to break.
“I’d trust the serpent in Eden before I’d trust Lovat,” Broughton said unequivocally. “I canna stand the man.”
“His house and lands are burnt,” Donald Cameron replied. “He has nothing left to lose now.”
“He sat on the fence for the whole of the campaign,” Alex reminded him. “He wouldna put anything in writing. He didna raise the clan until last December, and only then because he thought we were going to win. And even then he sent his son out and stayed at home himself, so that if it all went awry, he could say he hadna agreed to send the clan out at all!”
“Aye, well, it was to no avail,” Lochiel pointed out. “He’s with us now, and we need everyone we can get if we’re to continue the fight. The Frasers are a powerful clan.”
Alex couldn’t argue with this, so stayed silent. So did Broughton, although the expression on his face spoke volumes.
“The Elector’s son sent me a message, offering me very favourable terms if I were to surrender,” Lochiel suddenly inserted into the pause.
Alex, in the act of refilling his glass, almost dropped the bottle.
“What?” he cried. “What terms?”
Lochiel made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
“It doesna signify,” he said. “I rejected them, of course. Even if I trusted him to hold to them, which I dinna, I would never surrender. The French have already sent us enough money and provisions to keep us fighting till the autumn, and I believe that if we make a spirited defence, they’ll send us more. But even if it came down to me alone against the whole of Cumberland’s army, I would still go down fighting. How could I do otherwise, and hold my head up?”
“Aye,” said Alex. “It shows how little William kens of honour, if he could believe ye’d surrender to him.”
“It wasna just me,” Lochiel added. “Glencarnaig was offered terms too. I thought ye’d have known that, ye being of the MacGregors yourself.”
“I’ve been…ailing,” Alex said, not wanting to discuss his emotional issues with the Cameron chief. “What did he offer Glencarnaig, then?”
“He offered to raise the proscription on the MacGregors.”
Alex was stunned. This was what they had been fighting for for over a hundred years. The right to use their own name openly, to have recourse to the law, to own property…the list was endless. It was a powerful temptation.
“What did Glencarnaig reply?”
“He said, ‘we choose rather to risk our lives and fortunes, and die with the characters of honest men, than live in infamy and hand down disgrace to our posterity’.”
Alex let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and took a huge gulp of brandy straight out of the bottle.
“Would ye have answered differently?” Lochiel asked softly.
“Christ, no!” Alex responded immediately. “Glencarnaig had the right of it. There’s nae purpose to having the right to use a traitor’s name.”
Lochiel smiled.
“It warms my heart to see ye, Donald,” Alex said. “For a while we thought you were dead.”
“Aye, I canna tell ye how it felt to be lying on the field helpless, watching my clansmen cut to pieces around me, and me unable to do anything. I wanted to die myself at that moment. But I didna, and neither did you, and now we live to fight on.
“So, then,” he continued, “ye’ve read John’s plan, and it’s a fair one. We’ve to gather those we can, and we march to my house at Achnacarry in a week. We meet Lochgarry’s men there. They’re out now keeping a watch on Fort Augustus to see what Cumberland’s forces are doing. Then we’ll cross the Lochy and join wi’ Keppoch, then on to Badenoch to meet the Frasers, MacIntoshes and MacPhersons. I’ve sent a despatch to the rest of the MacGregors to march to Rannoch and join others there. And so we rise again!”
They clinked glasses in a toast to King James. Better to die fighting to the end than surrender and die of shame.
* * *
London, mid May
After standing uncertainly in the doorway of the shop for a few minutes, Anne Cunningham finally entered.
“I wondered if you had any perfume,” she ventured. “I am going to a soiree this evening, and would like something fresh and summery to complement my new outfit.”
Sarah finished pinning a curl in place on Mrs Warren’s head and then gestured to a table in the corner of the room on which resided a number of porcelain bottles.
“There is a selection of the perfumed waters that I have, Mrs Cunningham,” Sarah said. “Rose, lilac, jasmine, orange blossom and violet among others. I also have the same fragrances in a solid version, if you wish to wear it in a pendant or pomade. Would you like to try some? I have almost finished Mrs Warren’s hair, and then I can give you my exclusive attention.”
Anne moved over to the table, desultorily picking up bottles, taking out the stoppers and sniffing them before putting them down again. Sarah watched her out of the corner of her eye as she liberally sprinkled powder over her client’s hair.
“There!” Sarah said. “Perfect!” She held a hand mirror up so Mrs Warren could see the finished confection.
“Thank you! Miss Browne, you really are a wonder! I cannot tell you how much you were missed while you were away. We feared you would never return,” her delighted customer enthused.
“My home is here,” Sarah reassured her. “I had to visit my family on a matter of urgency, but now I am back I do not envisage leaving again.
“Now, Mrs Cunningham,” she continued, as she helped Mrs Warren on with her cloak, “I can see that the scents I have on display do not please you. But I do have another that you may like. I do not put it on display, as I must warn you it is very expensive. But it will certainly turn heads. You will be the talk of the company if you wear it, I assure you. If you would just care to take a seat, I will fetch it for you.”
Anne took a seat while Sarah said goodbye to her client.
“What’s wrong, Anne?” she said in quite a different voice the moment the door was closed.
Anne, surprised by the sudden change in demeanour, jumped.
“Nothing!” she said.
“You haven’t come here for perfume though, have you?” Sarah said. “You have something to tell me. Is Richard back?”
“No!” Anne cried, leaping from the chair. “No. I really do want some perfume, but I…” She paused.
Sarah waited for Anne to pluck up her courage.
“Can I see her?” she asked finally. “Would you mind terribly?”
Sarah smiled. “Why would I mind? She’s asleep right now, but of course you can see her if you want to. And you can try the perfume too.”
She took Anne into her small but cosy living room. A cheerful fire burned in the hearth, on either side of which were comfortable padded chairs. She motioned Anne to sit in one and handed her a small flower-painted porcelain bottle, inviting her to take the stopper out and smell the contents.
She bustled around setting out tea things. She took a tea-caddy out of a small dresser and ladled two spoons of the expensive leaves into a teapot. Then she lifted the kettle, which was suspended from a hook over the fire, and poured the water onto the leaves.
“There,” she said. “It won’t be long.” It was quite nice to have someone round for tea. Since Beth had left, Sarah rarely had visitors. She kept to herself, and told herself she preferred it that way. After a long day on her feet exchanging small talk w
ith customers, and, now having established a reputation for discretion, often listening as they unburdened themselves to her too, most of the time she did want to be alone in the evening. But not always. And in her lonely times, of which she’d had quite a few lately, she missed Beth terribly.
Anne Cunningham was no substitute for Beth, of course, but she was Beth’s relation by marriage; they had Richard in common, although that was not a positive thing. But it had brought them together in a strange kind of sisterhood.
Anne unstoppered the bottle and inhaled delicately. Then deeper.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “This is exquisite! I have never smelt anything like it before!”
“No, I’m sure you haven’t,” Sarah said. “It’s very expensive. That’s why I don’t keep it in the shop. Most of my clients can’t afford it.”
“Oh,” Anne replied, disappointed. “I’m sure I won’t be able to afford it either, then. My allowance from Richard is very small. What is its name?”
“Aqua Melis,” Sarah answered. “It contains a lot of expensive spices and flower oils and waters, and it takes a long time to combine all the ingredients exactly.”
“Did you make it yourself?” Anne asked admiringly.
“No.” Sarah laughed. “I make a lot of my own paints and pomades, but the art of making perfume is a skill all of its own, and takes years to learn. No, I bought it.” From a free trader. She didn’t add that, knowing Anne would be shocked even to be handling illicit goods. She was changing, but was still easily upset.
“If you pour the tea, I’ll fetch her,” she said, disappearing through a doorway into her small bedroom. She returned a moment later with a tiny, neatly wrapped bundle, which she handed to Anne.
All that could be seen of the sleeping infant was her head, which was crowned with a fuzz of dark hair. She had tiny, perfectly shaped eyebrows, and enormously long lashes, which fluttered against her cheek as she slept. Anne stared in awe at the precious bundle for a long moment, then tenderly caressed the petal-soft cheek with one finger. The tiny rosebud mouth puckered for an instant, and then the baby sighed and relaxed back into sleep.
“Oh, but she is beautiful,” Anne whispered reverently. “What is her name?”
“Mary,” Sarah said.
“I am so sorry about your sister,” Anne said softly, so as not to disturb the child. “Does Mary resemble her?”
“It’s a little soon to tell,” Sarah replied, “but no, I think she takes after her father.”
“What a rogue he must be, to disown such a beautiful child,” Anne said, before blushing furiously. “Oh! I did not mean to offend.”
“No, you haven’t offended me,” Sarah said. “He hasn’t disowned her. He doesn’t know about her. My sister told me that their relationship was very brief, and he was called away on business before she even knew she was with child. She has not…had not heard from him since.”
“Oh, you poor creature!” Anne cried.
Sarah had her back to Anne, as she’d gone to the dresser to get some sugar, and had thought her to be addressing Mary, but when she turned back Anne was looking at her, her eyes full of tears.
“I am fine,” Sarah said.
“No, you are not,” Anne said. “Your terrible loss has clearly taken a toll on you. You have lost weight, and you look very tired. And now you have to work all day, and take care of your niece. And you have not had time to grieve for the death of your dear sister. I will make you a tonic and send it over tomorrow. Or you can come and stay with me if you wish, until you have recovered your strength.”
“You’re very kind, but I would rather keep busy. And Mary is a very placid baby. She rarely wakes me during the night. Once we knew my sister wasn’t going to live, I promised her I would take care of the child. It’s a great comfort to fulfil her dying wish.”
“Indeed, she was very lucky to have you, especially as you say your father is so rigid in his beliefs,” Anne said.
Sarah’s mouth twisted.
“Yes. We will not be seeing him ever again,” she said with feeling. “He’s dead to me.”
Anne blushed, aware from the bitter expression on Sarah’s face that she was not helping. She looked down at the child again.
“She will grow to be a beautiful child, I am sure,” she said. “When she is a little older, I will bring Georgie to see her. Maybe they will be married when they grow up!”
“I hardly think Lord Winter will agree to his noble godson marrying the bastard child of a shopkeeper’s sister,” Sarah pointed out. “I’m sorry,” she added, seeing the distraught look on Anne’s face. She had not been trying to offend. She is so innocent in the ways of the world, Sarah thought. God help her when Richard comes home.
“Richard has written,” Anne said, as if reading Sarah’s mind. Then she blushed again, clearly realising that she had just committed another faux pas.
“Here,” Sarah said. “Let me put her back to bed. You’re welcome to visit us any time you wish.” She whisked the child away and went into the bedroom, giving both herself and Anne a moment to compose themselves.
Her first urge when she came back into the living room was to change the subject, but she needed to know what Richard had written.
She poured more tea for them.
“So, are you living back in London now, or are you visiting from Lady Harriet’s?” Sarah asked.
“I could not impose on Harriet any longer,” Anne said. “Particularly now George is trying to walk. She is not over fond of children and I fear that once he begins to run around she will find him quite tiresome. I came home two weeks ago. Philippa and Oliver are staying though, so I am not lonely,” she added.
“Was the letter waiting for you when you got home?” Sarah asked.
“The letter? Oh! No, it arrived two days ago, from North Britain,” she said, clearly surprised that Sarah had brought the subject up again.
Sarah waited until it became clear Anne was not going to volunteer any more information without being prompted.
“What did he have to say?” she asked finally.
“It was only a short note,” Anne replied. “He wrote that he will be in Scotland for some time yet, as he is engaged in the pacification of the Highlands on behalf of His Royal Highness. But as soon as he can, he will return to England. He said that he is anxious to talk about our future,” she finished in a very small voice.
Sarah nodded, half to herself. So he would not be back very soon, at least. She could relax for a little longer.
“And do you intend to be here when he comes back to ‘talk’ about your future?” Sarah asked.
To her surprise, Anne began to weep.
“Oh! Oh, I am so sorry,” she cried. She fumbled in her reticule and produced a scrap of lace with which she attempted to stem the flow of tears. “Truly, I do not know what I am going to do,” she said miserably once she had brought her sobs under control. “Harriet and Philippa say I should leave him, but if I did it would cause a terrible scandal. I cannot imagine what Uncle Bartholomew and Aunt Wilhelmina would say.”
“Does it matter what they say?” Sarah asked.
Anne looked up in shock.
“Yes, of course it does! I will be ostracised from society. It is a terrible thing to leave one’s husband. I am sure no one will ever speak to me again if I do!”
“Caroline will speak to you,” Sarah pointed out. “And Lady Harriet and Philippa will, as well. And they are friendly with the Prince of Wales. From what Beth told me about him, he would not shun you for leaving a vicious brute. And Prince Frederick will be King one day.”
Anne dried her eyes, blew her nose delicately, and considered this.
“You are right,” she said. “I had not thought of it in that way. How clever you are. But, you know, Richard is my husband, and maybe he has had time to think while he has been away, to regret what he has done. I feel I should give him a chance to apologise and to make amends.” She looked up apprehensively at Sarah.
If he come
s here to ‘apologise’ to me, it’ll be the last thing he ever does, Sarah thought. True to her promise, Caroline had taught her how to use a pistol, and she kept it, primed and ready to fire, behind her counter. If he ever threatened her again she would blow his brains all over her shop.
“You are disappointed in me,” Anne said sadly, interrupting Sarah’s dark thoughts. Really, she was such a sweet, innocent woman. She deserved a gentle, caring husband, not a vicious evil bastard who enjoyed inflicting pain. Very few society women would care if they offended someone of Sarah’s social standing. Yes, they confided in her when she was making them beautiful, but as a person she was of no more significance to them than the night-soil men or the link boys. Beth had been different, but she was rare.
And this plain, red-eyed unhappy woman who had married so disastrously into the Cunningham family was another. Sarah was suddenly filled with a fierce protectiveness towards her. On impulse she reached forward and grasped Anne’s hands.
“Anne,” she said urgently. “Richard will not change. There is something wrong with him, and there always has been. Beth told me that he was cruel even as a child. I do not think he wishes to apologise, to you or me. You should leave him, and to hell with your aunt and uncle!”
Anne’s eyes widened in shock.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah amended. “I’m speaking out of turn because I’m afraid for you. But if you insist on seeing him, I beg you, do not see him alone, no matter what he wants. And on no account let him near George William. And I would ask a favour of you.”
“Of course,” Anne said.
“As soon as you know when he will arrive in London, will you send a message to me straight away?”
“Yes, if you wish, of course.”
“Thank you. Then at least I’ll be prepared, if he visits me again.” She squeezed Anne’s hands, then released them and sat down.
And in the meantime, let us hope he tries to pacify the wrong Highlander, she thought, and gets himself cut to pieces.
* * *
Scotland, 20th May, 1746
Pursuit of Princes (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 5) Page 7
