The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (27 page)

His wife, wearing a similar expression, sat opposite him, clad in turquoise velvet, stays tightly laced, her hair swept up and secured with enamelled pins. Aquamarines sparkled in her ears and at her throat. The unhappy couple sat in silence for a time, staring moodily into the fire and thinking of the meeting in Edinburgh that had necessitated their immediate return to London without spending a week or two in Manchester on the way south as Beth had hoped they would.

They had met John Murray of Broughton at their Edinburgh lodgings, after the unfortunate episode with Lord Daniel. Dressed in brown frockcoat and breeches, he had looked quite different from the Highlander Beth remembered in Rome; smaller and slighter somehow, his fair hair hidden under a powdered wig. Donald Cameron of Lochiel, chief of Clan Cameron had turned up a few minutes later, also dressed in the sober garb of the lowlander rather than the Highland attire he preferred, although he wore his own thick light brown hair brushed ruthlessly back from his face and tied with a dark ribbon. He was a handsome man in his early forties, tall and athletically built, and his warm greeting of the MacGregors had endeared him to Beth immediately. The brandy having been poured, the men had got down to business straight away. Alex had given a brief resumé of the morning’s proceedings for Duncan and Beth’s benefit.

“John tellt us this morning that he had several meetings with Prince Charles in the Tuileries in spite of Balhaldy’s trying to prevent it, and it seems that Balhaldy has been less than honest with the prince, exaggerating the level of support he could expect from his British supporters. He was under the impression that he could expect at least twenty thousand Scots to rise for him. He had no idea that Balhaldy has been keeping us in the dark about developments.”

“I told the prince that the best he could expect from Scotland would be four thousand men if he came without a considerable body of French troops, as many of the clans have made French support a condition of them rising,” Murray continued. “I doubt the Frasers will come out otherwise, and the MacLeods will be very reluctant too.”

“MacLeod’s no’ the only one who’ll be reluctant. So will I. It canna be done without French help, it’s as simple as that,” said Lochiel firmly, his handsome face grim. “The Campbells are an enormous clan, and wi’ most of them on the government side, we need the support of the big northern clans, and we’ll no’ get it if the prince doesna have Louis’ backing.”

“What did the prince say to that?” asked Duncan.

“He said he would try to raise a body of French troops, but that he was determined to come to Scotland next summer, even if he had to come with a single footman,” said Murray. “He’s verra impatient, and frustrated at the aborted invasion. He’s been dealt badly wi’ by Louis too, which doesna help.”

Beth groaned, and the men all looked at her.

“I’ve met the prince, you remember,” she said by way of explanation. “He’ll do it, won’t he?”

“Aye, I’ve no doubt he will,” said Broughton. “Unless we can persuade him otherwise. Which is why we’re all here now.” He paused to take a sip of his brandy. “Before I left France the prince gave me a letter for the Earl of Traquair, ordering him to go immediately to England, find out the state of affairs there and get some definite commitment from the English Jacobites. Traquair has refused to go.”

“What?” said Duncan, amazed. “He’s refused a direct order from Prince Charles?”

“He didna say no outright, but he’s suddenly a verra busy man, and he did go so far as to say he was surprised the prince should think he had nothing better to do than run his errands.”

There was a general gasp from the group at the thought that anyone who claimed loyalty to the Stuart cause could say such a thing.

“I can understand him,” continued Broughton. “He’s a friend of Balhaldy’s. Balhaldy seems to want a rising at any price, and he’s so desperate to keep the prince’s favour that he’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear, true or no. If Traquair goes to England and finds out that they willna rise without a French army behind them, as I suspect he will, it puts him in an awkward position. Either he betrays his prince by lying to him and telling him the English will join him without condition, or he betrays his friend by telling Charles the truth. So he’s prevaricating.”

“That’s why Sir Anthony needs to return to London immediately,” said Alex. “So that I can do what Traquair should be doing, and try to get a definite commitment from the English.”

Beth glanced from Alex to Murray, who intercepted her look and smiled at her.

“Aye,” he said. “Alex has told me about Sir Anthony. It’s quite amazing. I never would have recognised him. I’ve revised my opinion of the baronet considerably from the last time we met. Dinna fret, Lady Elizabeth, the secret’s safe with me.”

“Dinna do it because you’re feeling guilty, though,” said Lochiel to Alex. “Although Balhaldy’s a MacGregor, he’s also my cousin, but I dinna consider myself responsible for his stupidity.”

“No more do I,” said Alex. “We were on our way back to London anyway. And if Traquair doesna consider it necessary to help his prince, I do.”

“We have to be sure of the support of the English and the French,” said Lochiel. “And if we’re not, we must, at all costs, prevent the prince from landing in Scotland next summer wi’ his single footman.”

Musing now in front of a London hearth, Beth wondered how anyone could stop the whirlwind prince from doing anything, once he had set his heart on it. She looked across at her husband, and discovered to her surprise that instead of gazing into the fire he was watching her instead. She had no idea how long she had been unknowingly observed, and coloured slightly.

“I’m awfu’ glad I’ve got you,” he said softly. “I dinna think I could have faced the prospect of being Sir Anthony again without you by my side.”

She looked at him, thought of what she had almost lost and shivered suddenly, realising that she could not face the prospect of
anything
without him by her side. It was strange that less than two years ago she had not even known of his existence, and now the thought of life without him made her feel ill.
He knows what I’m thinking,
she realised as she saw his eyes soften.

“I meant what I said that night,” he said.

An overwhelming desire to abandon the tedious visits and spend the day making love instead pulsed in the air, bridging the space between them. It had taken them two hours to get dressed. If they abandoned their outing now, they would never do it. Beth reluctantly swallowed back the invitation to him to tear all her clothes off and take her now, which she had been about to give voice to.

“Even though it now means you’ve got to call on my pompous boring cousin and his colourless sisters?” she said instead.

“Even if I had to call on the devil himself,” Alex smiled. The sexual tension diminished, slightly. “Come on then, let’s do it. It’ll be easier once we’ve made our first formal call. We’ll get back into the way of it then.”

He stood and held out a hand to assist her to her feet, then put his arm around her. His head bent automatically to hers.

“You’ll smudge your makeup,” Beth reminded him, a second before their lips would have met.

He said something extremely obscene in Gaelic and released her reluctantly.

Beth smoothed her dress, tried to take a deep breath and failed due to the constricting stays, swept her way to the door and came to a shuddering halt.

“Oh damn it to hell!” she said viciously, moving back a few steps then hauling her hoops up gracelessly so that she could get through the doorway. She stopped in the hall and waited for her husband to join her.

“My cousins are not expecting us, are they?” she asked.

“No, they’re just the first on a list of duty calls we’ll have to make now we’re back,” Alex said. “Geordie should really be the first, but I’ve put him off until tomorrow. At least I didna have to endure his birthday celebrations.”

They had arrived in London two days before on the second of November, three days after the bonfires and obligatory public demonstrations of loyalty to the Hanoverian king.

“In that case,” suggested Beth, “let’s forget the Elector and my stupid cousins for now. Loosen my stays a bit before I faint, and let’s visit Edwin and Caroline first. At least we
want
to see them.”

The drawing room was a study in familial bliss. Mother and father sat on opposite sides of the hearth, intent on their son, who was making his wobbly-legged way from one parent to the other, heavily supported by Caroline’s arm. His small face was a picture of determination.

Edwin, arms held out to catch his son, looked round as the visitors entered.

“Where the hell have you two been?” he asked.

“Not quite the customary greeting, dear boy, but I suppose it shows you’ve missed us,” Sir Anthony said, appropriating his customary place on the sofa. “Good God, he’s changed, hasn’t he? Or have you swapped Freddie for another child?”

The infant, who had indeed changed considerably, looked at the apparition placed before him in wonder, his eyes, which were now definitely hazel, opening wide, and his grip on Caroline’s arm loosening. He took another faltering step unsupported, then toppled backward, landing on his bottom on the rug. His face wavered and Caroline scooped him up quickly before he could decide in favour of tears.

“Children do change over a three month period at this age, Anthony,” Caroline said pointedly, kissing the child’s fuzz of brown hair before commencing to bounce him gently up and down on her knee.

“Really, you two, it’s not good enough,” said Edwin sternly. “You could have told us you were going away for months. Caroline’s been beside herself.”

Caroline looked at him, lips pursed.

“Well, I’ve been a bit concerned as well,” he admitted. “We knew you were going to a wedding in Manchester, but we had no idea you were going to stay away for so long. We thought you’d had an accident or been murdered or something, particularly when we had no word from you. Caroline finally wrote to you in Didsbury. I assume you haven’t received her letter.”

Beth and Sir Anthony looked at each other guiltily. It hadn’t occurred to them that anyone would be worried about them.

“No, we haven’t. I’m sorry,” said Beth. “Lots of people go off to the country for a few months at a time. We thought you’d realise that was what we’d done.”

“We did think that was what you’d done at first,” said Caroline. “But when people go off to the country they usually correspond with their acquaintance in the city, regularly. Whereas you haven’t written to anyone, have you? I even called on your cousins to see whether they’d heard from you, and had to endure Edward pontificating on for an hour about how to rear children, not to spoil the rod, cold baths twice a day, all that rot. It was appalling.”

“I’m sorry,” said Beth again.

“It was even worse when he started citing you as an example of what happens when a child is overindulged by its parents and becomes a headstrong, selfish adult with no consideration for others. I almost hit him, until I realised that the reason I was enduring his drivel at all was because he was right. Not about your upbringing, but about your lack of consideration. You two are our best friends. Why didn’t you write?”

Beth looked at her husband helplessly. Maybe they would have been better going to Edward’s first, after all. What could they say?
We’re sorry, but we were charging half-naked around the Highlands of Scotland, making love in the heather, throwing each other in the loch and behaving like little children, and it was wonderful and we forgot all about you.

“We’ve been in Scotland,” said Sir Anthony, to Beth’s utter astonishment.

“
Scotland?”
said Edwin incredulously. “Don’t tell the king that, when you call on him. Or Cumberland. They’re convinced the place is a hotbed of Jacobitism. All the prominent people there are being watched.”

“Oh, that’s the Highlanders,” said Sir Anthony dismissively. “And only a small number of them, if rumour is to be believed. We were in Edinburgh. After we’d spent some time in Manchester, of course. Beth’s ex-servants have bought a house together, and we stayed there. They really are excellent people. Of course we should have written. It was quite inexcusable. But it never occurred to us you’d be worried. We didn’t forget you, of course; we’ve brought presents.”

He fished in his pocket and brought out a ball made of four pieces of brightly-coloured leather sewn together and stuffed with cloth. He stood and presented it formally to the child, who was already reaching for it, attracted by the bright colours. It jingled softly as Freddie’s hands closed around it, automatically transferring it to his mouth. Caroline reached to take it off him.

“It’s quite all right,” said the baronet. “I thought of that. It’s sturdy enough for him to chew on without damaging it or himself, and too big for him to swallow. It’s got some bells sewn inside it, too.” He smiled, and Caroline softened before his eyes. “We’ve brought presents for you two as well,” he continued. “They’re in the coach. A bottle of excellent brandy, Edwin, which I was hoping you’d invite me to share with you, although I’ll forgive you if you don’t, in your present mood. And a length of silk, Caroline, which matches the colour of your eyes perfectly. And now you’ve got to forgive us, for we are really most contrite, and if we ever go away again we promise to write to you twice a day at least.”

He adopted an expression of such utter distress that even Edwin, who had been determined to give his friend a hard time, gave in.

“How was Edinburgh?” he asked Beth.

“Interesting,” she said uncertainly, wondering why Alex had revealed that they had been there at all. “Er…the castle is very impressive. And Anthony bought me the most delightful bracelet.”

“Beth met Lord Daniel there,” supplied Anthony. “It was the first time you’d seen him since our wedding eve, was it not, my dear?”

“Yes,” she affirmed neutrally.

“He was travelling with his father, who is looking in superlative health,” said Anthony, as though they had all enjoyed a pleasant chat together.