The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (4 page)

“Children are influenced, but not wholly made by their parents,” she replied, thinking of Richard. “When they are adults they must take responsibility for their own actions. But I will admit, I did feel a little awkward tonight and your apology has put me at ease. Thank you.”

They entered the dining room.

“I would also like to say that I feel you have made a far wiser choice in taking Anthony to husband than Daniel. He is a quite remarkable man,” the earl continued.

“Do you know Anthony well, my lord?” Beth asked. Her husband had never mentioned the earl as being a particular friend of his.

“I would go so far as to say that I know him better than most people, your good self excepted, of course,” he replied, leading her to the only two vacant seats left, near the top of the table, where the highest ranking guest would be expected to sit.

The first course arrived, a mutton broth, and, as is the case at most dinner parties, the conversation began, hesitantly at first, and then more enthusiastically as the half-eaten soup was removed and the second course of roast beef was served. Glasses tinkled, wine, thankfully of good quality, was poured, cutlery clattered, and the earl listened with amusement as Beth gave detailed replies to Lady Wilhelmina’s carefully probing questions about her sudden return to England and subsequent time in Manchester, without revealing anything of moment at all, to that lady’s frustration. The noise level grew. Lord Winter, having listened to Sir Anthony extolling the virtues of Manchester, began to expound, tactlessly and at length, about the merits of the southern towns of England over the north. Edwin and Thomas Fortesque, both MPs, seemed to be continuing a debate begun earlier that day in Parliament, and Anne and the Cunningham sisters were happily discussing curtain material, Lydia reluctantly joining them.

“Ah, that is one of the advantages of breastfeeding, Anthony. It has given me a cleavage,” Caroline declared into one of those odd sudden silences that naturally punctuate any lively gathering. Edwin looked up, startled. The eyes of every male in the room rested involuntarily on his wife’s bosom. She reddened. A brief unnatural silence descended on the table. During this Sir Anthony had been attempting to cut a potato, which now startled him by sliding from under his knife and skidding from his plate across the table, almost overturning Clarissa’s wineglass. The previous potato the baronet had tried to halve had subsided sullenly into a pile of pale yellow slush at the first touch of his knife.

“I must say, Lord Edward, that the food tonight is remarkably…English,” he said, retrieving the runaway vegetable from the damask tablecloth and returning it to the edge of his plate.

“Thank you,” replied the lord. “Yes, I have finally managed to convince Isabella of the impossibility of retaining a French cook in the current climate. Why, one cannot welcome spies into one’s house at any time, let alone when one is at war!”

“You thought the man to be a spy, Lord Edward?” asked the earl.

“There was no proof, of course, my lord. These people are too clever to leave evidence lying around. But the man was a Frenchman, and a Papist. And I like to think I have a nose for deception. One can recognise spies, my lord, by their very desire not to be noticed. Andre was such a man, very quiet and deferential. A sure sign that he was up to no good.” Caroline and Edwin, who were aware of the baronet’s brief flirtation with espionage in Rome, and the earl, who was not, all glanced at Sir Anthony.

“I would have thought modesty and deference to have been the sign of a good servant, myself,” the baronet responded.

“It is difficult to explain, sir. There is a certain slyness about those involved in espionage, which one as…ah…ingenuous as yourself might fail to see. And I am proved right. The scoundrel has persuaded our plain cook to abscond with him. We have been compelled to engage another at short notice.”

“Yes, Susan was an excellent cook. I am afraid the food is not up to our usual standard. I am most terribly sorry,” said Isabella.

“The excellent company makes up for any small imperfections in the meal, my dear Isabella,” Sir Anthony reassured her, patting her hand. “You have made a very patriotic gesture. The man would most likely have been arrested before long anyway. I hear that suspected Jacobites are being taken into custody, and Catholics are now severely restricted in their movements.”

“It’s quite ridiculous,” snorted Thomas Fortesque. “Edwin and I were just discussing that very subject. The arrest of known Jacobites is all well and good, but persecuting Roman Catholics and other dissenters for no good reason does us no credit.”

“I am surprised to hear you say that, sir, and you a Whig,” said Lord Winter. “Why, it is well known that Papists are Jacobites to a man. They should all be clapped in irons, in my view.”

“It is hardly surprising that Catholics look to the Stuarts to redress the wrongs done them, when Hanover persists in its bigotry,” said Edwin.

“Are you inclined to the Roman faith yourself, Mr Harlow?” asked the earl.

“No, my lord,” bristled Edwin, a devout Anglican. “I am inclined to religious tolerance, which is quite another thing.”

“I hear you were almost seduced by the Catholics, Sir Anthony, whilst at Versailles,” said Lord Edward with poorly-veiled disgust.

“Not at all,” replied the baronet calmly. “I merely engaged in some interesting theological discussions with Roman priests. I will discourse with anyone, on any subject, as is widely known. I find it extremely tedious to converse only with those who hold the same opinion as myself, or in fact hold no intelligent opinion at all.” He smiled meaningfully at his host.

“Nevertheless, it can be dangerous to fraternise with some sections of the community,” Edward replied, oblivious.

“Only when one lives in a country which does not enjoy freedom of speech, thought and action. I was unaware that England was such a country.”

“It is not, sir,” put in Thomas, “providing you believe that we should be supporting useless troops in Hanover, and that we should be stirring Catholics and Tories as well to an even greater fervour to see the Stuarts restored, by exacting repressive measures against them.”

“We have had a frustrating few days in Parliament,” explained Edwin. “Ministers are wasting a good deal of time, in our view, arguing as to whether the author of a recent pamphlet denouncing the funding of Hanoverian troops should be hunted down and arrested, and discussing how to enforce the unenforceable Act against Catholics, when both Thomas and I, and a good many others feel we should instead be addressing the long-term implications of this action of France, who as we speak, is loading her ships with cannon, guns and men, and preparing to sail against England. In fact by now, news travelling as slowly as it does, they may well be engaged in battle.”

Anne paled noticeably, and Charlotte gave a little scream of fright.

“Is it not just a feint to distract Britain while France strengthens its troops in Flanders?” asked the earl.

“That is possible. But the Pretender’s son is in France, and has been seen near Dunkirk. In view of that one must take seriously the possibility that Louis means to put the Stuarts back on the throne, and act accordingly, as we are. Admirals Norris and Matthews are now in place, and ready for anything,” said Thomas. “But we must address the wider issues as well. I still think that the Pretender would have less support if, instead of suppressing dissenters, we allowed them to practise their faith openly, and gave them less cause to support James and his son.”

“I disagree,” said Lord Winter. “One cannot guard too strongly against the perfidies of the Roman Church, which on the surface appears so attractive, and seduces the young and impressionable. And you malign our monarch. King George is far more tolerant of dissenters than the Pretender would be. At least they are not forced to recant, and tortured if they refuse.”

“The Pretender has an Anglican chapel at his palace in Rome,” Beth dropped casually into the conversation. “It is for the use of his Protestant servants.” She looked down the table. Everyone except her husband and the earl looked deeply shocked.

“How do you know that, Lady Elizabeth?” asked the latter.

“I met an Anglican minister in Rome,” lied Beth smoothly. “He told me he is employed at the Palazzo Muti. It would seem that James is more tolerant than is bruited about.” She smiled, and determinedly speared a carrot with her fork.

“I don’t believe it,” breathed Lady Winter.

“You must be mistaken, Elizabeth,” said Lord Edward patronisingly.

“Oh, it’s quite true, my dears,” put in Sir Anthony, as Beth’s colour rose. “I heard the man say so myself. And the Anglican chapel is very tastefully appointed, quite devoid of the icons and other paraphernalia of which Catholics are so fond.”

Attention now transferred to the baronet.

“Are you sure this is not just a rumour put about by the supporters of the Pretender?” asked Thomas, who had just managed with difficulty to swallow a particularly large piece of gristle.

“No, not at all. I saw it myself. Attended a service, in fact. It was most refreshing.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this before, Anthony?” asked Edwin.

“It quite slipped my mind. The conversation at your house recently has been somewhat dominated by your son and heir. And quite rightly so. A divine child!” he replied serenely, seemingly unaware that he and his wife had just demolished one of the main objections to the replacement of the House of Hanover by that of Stuart. If it was true.

“You and your husband will make Jacobites of us all, Lady Elizabeth,” said the earl in a low voice which was nevertheless heard by the whole table, which was still in a state of shock.

“God forbid!” declared Thomas. “If what you say is true, then I believe it to be no more than a publicity exercise by James.”

“Possibly. Although you would think, if that is the case, that James would make it more widely known that he employs Anglican servants and ministers,” the earl said thoughtfully.

“Clearly he has decided to do so, by inviting gullible tourists to visit the Palazzo Muti, hoping they will spread his insidious lies unwittingly,” Lord Edward said tactlessly, forgetting that he was supposed to be ingratiating himself with the baronet.

“The dispute over the Stuart restoration is about more than religious tolerance, though, isn’t it?” said Caroline. “It is about the divine right of kings to rule as they wish without interference, which is what James wants.”

“He might want it, but do you think he would get it, if he was restored?” Sir Anthony asked.

“I doubt it, but he would certainly fight for it, and so would his supporters. We have had enough of civil war in this country, I think.”

“Better the devil you know,” said the earl, smiling.

“Yes. Exactly. Caroline is right. At least we know George’s virtues and failings,” Thomas said. His daughter sighed. She had enough of political conversation at home, and had hoped this dinner would provide a respite. But everyone else seemed fascinated, except for Isabella and her sisters, who looked confused, and worried. “But these repressive measures enacted by the king play into the Pretender’s hands. George is not greatly liked, even by his supporters.”

“Come, sir!” said Lord Winter, shocked. “How can you say this, when only a few days ago the merchants of London led a huge procession to St. James’s and offered the king six million pounds? You speak treasonably!”

“They offered him a
loan
of six million pounds,” Thomas said dryly. “No my lord, I speak honestly. It is no secret that the king is not popular with his subjects. He knows it himself. There are many who long for a more exciting court. I do not see you, my lord, or any of the aristocracy for that matter, flocking to George’s entertainments. Indeed he rarely provides any. It is what he represents that we support. The king has not the kind of personality which endears men to him. Unlike the Pretender’s son, who, if rumour is true, does. Many still think George favours Hanover over Britain. And his public estrangement from the Prince of Wales does not enhance his standing in the eyes of the public.”

“So what you are saying,” said Sir Anthony, “is that if George allowed people to worship as they wished, and allowed Tories to enjoy the fruits of their offices, perhaps they would not be so inclined to favour the Stuarts, in spite of Charles’s charisma?”

“That is exactly what I am saying,” said Thomas. “Contented men are rarely willing to risk their lives for a mere principle. It is only when life becomes intolerable that they are roused to rebellion. Scotland is where the main danger lies, I think, as it always has done.”

“Ah, because the Scots see James Stuart as one of their own?” Sir Anthony asked.

“Partly. The Stuarts are of Scottish origin. But also because overall the Scots didn’t want the Act of Union, and feel that they have not benefited from it. Many of them might feel they have nothing to lose by rising for the Pretender. And the king’s hostile attitude towards his northern subjects does nothing for his popularity there. I feel that we would do better to address some of their grievances, so they feel they are prospering under George. Then they would be less likely to rebel.”

Beth had by now decided that Thomas Fortesque was a man to be admired. And a man who could be very dangerous to the chances of a Stuart restoration, were his ideas to be heeded.

“Speaking of rebellions, it seems that we left France just in time,” said Lord Winter, eyeing with some trepidation the pasty suet pudding sparsely dotted with raisins which had just been presented to the company by way of dessert.

“We did. The French are impounding British boats, including the mail packet. It would be difficult now to obtain a passage home,” said Sir Anthony absently. He was looking at a footman, who was heading in his direction. The man bent and whispered something to him. The baronet nodded, and the man left the room. “Although I doubt Louis is going so far as to arrest innocent tourists, as yet,” he continued. “He has not, after all, formally declared war on us.”

“I am sure that, no matter what the situation between France and England, Sir Anthony, you would have been unharmed,” said Lady Winter acidly, still piqued by his comment in the salon. “Your lady wife enjoying such…ah…
cordial
relations with King Louis.” She smiled sweetly at Beth, who smiled back, and prepared for war.