The Mask Revealed (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 2) (11 page)

“And as for yersel’,” he continued, his Scottish accent more pronounced in his passion. “If ye do as I tell ye, and leave me now, and then I’m discovered, you’ll be cast out of society, which I ken ye dinna care a fig for. If ye insist on coming wi’ me and having romantic and glamorous ‘adventures’, as ye seem tae think they’ll be, and we’re caught, then ye can at least be assured that women dinna suffer quartering. Ye’ll merely be burnt alive, or if you’re really lucky, hung until dead, which can take up to an hour, depending on the skill of the hangman. Have ye ever seen a hanging?”

“No,” she replied quietly, “But…”

“Well, then,” he interrupted. “I have, many times. It’s no’ a pretty sight, I can tell ye that, certainly no adventure, and in all the hangings I’ve seen, no one has ever come riding in on a white horse at the last minute tae rescue the damsel, as they do in all the best poems and novels. Before they burn or hang ye, however, ye’ll be kept in a filthy, cold prison cell for weeks, in between being ‘questioned’, which, as ye’re no a lady o’ quality, but a mere barbarian Scot’s wife, will consist of a damn sight more than polite requests for you tae reveal your accomplices. Whatever ‘unpleasant experience’ ye suffered that made ye so feared of my advances the other night was nothing compared to what you’ll suffer if you get a brutal questioner. Which you will, because you’ll be the wife o’ the man who made a fool o’ the king and all society!”

Her face flushed scarlet at his last words, and he knew he had hit below the belt. But he didn’t care. He had to make her realise the seriousness of the situation. He turned away, pacing the room, and scrubbed his fingers through his hair again, as he always did when deeply disturbed. When he turned back, she was looking at him, not terrified, as he had hoped, or angry, as he had expected, but laughingly.

“I saw a picture of a porcupine once, in a book,” she said.

“What?” he said, utterly perplexed.

“That’s what you remind me of now,” she answered calmly. “A large, red porcupine.”

He felt the top of his head, realised that his hair was standing up all over the place, the blue ribbon dangling precariously on his shoulder. The rage vanished, and he felt foolish suddenly, and not a little ashamed of some of the things he had said to her. He made an attempt to smooth down the wayward locks, and sat down again.

“Aye, well, I’ll admit, I am feeling a wee bit prickly at the moment,” he admitted. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. But I’m no’ sorry for what I said. It’s true, Beth, every word of it. It isna a game, no’ something I’ll have you involved in, an ye dinna know what the consequences will be if things go wrong.”

“You didn’t frighten me,” she replied. “But you’re right. I hadn’t thought properly about the consequences. I can see I need to give it a lot more thought.”

“Good,” Alex said, deeply relieved. “I knew ye’d see reason, understand that it isna possible for you to come with me.”

She looked across at him, surprised.

“Oh no,” she said resolutely. “I’m still coming with you. I just need to think about the sort of wife people will expect me to be to Sir Anthony, that’s all, and how I can play that role convincingly and to our best advantage.”

Alex dropped his head into his hands in despair.

* * *

The three men and one woman sat in the kitchen. Between them on the table burned a single candle, which supplemented the light from the fire, and a bottle, which was regularly passed from one hand to the next.

“She does have a point,” Angus ventured, after receiving the bottle from Iain, and taking a deep draught of the spirit within.

“No, she doesna,” retorted Alex. “I never had any intention of her getting involved in all this. And why I’m even speaking to you at all is beyond me. I never thought my own brother would give my enemy such a weapon, knowing how well she’d wield it against me.”

“Och, be fair, man,” put in the representative female, Maggie, who, as well as being Iain’s wife, also doubled as cook and general maid. “Ye didna tell any of us as she had the Gaelic. How was Angus tae ken? You’ve only yersel’ to blame.”

“And even then, how was I to ken she’d use how you felt for her against ye?” Angus added.

“Christ, man, have ye learnt nothing about women in nineteen years? Dinna ever tell a woman you love her unless you’re wanting to be led around by the nose for the rest of your life.”

“I often tell women I love them,” Angus protested.

“Aye, but ye dinna mean it, as they well know. It’s a different matter entirely.”

“What are ye going tae do?” said Iain, interrupting the dialogue before it got too heated.

“I’m going to make her decide that she doesna want to come with me, that’s what I’m going to do,” Alex replied determinedly.

“Why do ye no’ just forbid her to come? You’re her husband, after all,” Iain said. His wife snorted derisively as she reached for the whisky bottle. “And you’re her chieftain too,” he added hurriedly before Maggie could point out that she rarely took any notice of her husband, unless it suited her to do so.

“Aye, well, that’s the other thing she doesna understand, having been brought up a Sasannach an’ all. She’ll no’ obey me just because I’m her husband, in spite o’ the marriage vows she took two days ago. She’s too much spirit for that. And I’ve no’ the time tae teach her about clan rules. If I forbid her outright, like as not she’ll wait till I’ve sailed and book passage on the next boat to follow me. No, she’s got to decide for herself that it’s too dangerous. And I think I ken how to do it.” Alex upended the bottle, draining the last dregs, and plonked it down on the table. “And you’re going to make amends, by helping me,” he finished, turning to his brother.

* * *

Even as Alex outlined his plan to his compatriots, Beth lay in bed, watching the single candle on the dresser cast enormous shadows round the room as it wavered in the draught which succeeded with effort in forcing its way through the window.

Her mind was full of the same topic. How was she going to convince Alex that she would be an asset rather than a hindrance to him if she were to accompany him to Europe? He was a very good actor, she had to admit that. Never in a million years would she have suspected that Sir Anthony Peters was a Jacobite Scottish Highlander. Now she had to convince him that she could act a part as well as he, if she put her mind to it.

She had spoken honestly to him. The fact that he loved her
did
make all the difference. She did not love him, but she liked him, and admired him immensely. And desired him too, although of course she was not about to tell him that, not yet, not until she was sure she wouldn’t freeze in terror if he touched her. She had to convince him that not only was she capable of acting whatever part was necessary, but that she would not be as reckless with his safety and reputation as she had been with her own in recent months. How she could do that whilst cooped up in this house, however, she had no idea. She sighed, and blowing out the candle, settled down in an attempt to get some sleep.

* * *

The following morning she dressed more carefully, no longer feeling a desire to escape from the house. She doubted that Alex would be influenced by her appearance, but it couldn’t do any harm to look pretty, and it would boost her confidence as well. She sensed that it was going to be a long and difficult day.

Having fought with her hair and a variety of clips and pins for a while, and bemoaned the lack of Sarah, she gave up the attempt at an elaborate hairstyle. Instead she contented herself with simply braiding it, tying the end with a pale blue ribbon which matched her dress. Not exactly a hairstyle to be seen by society in, but she expected to encounter no one other than her husband, and possibly his brother.

She was just about to turn the bend in the stairs, when the doorbell rang. She stopped where she was, crouching down to minimise the chance that she would be seen by whoever came to answer the summons. After a moment she heard footsteps in the hall, and then the door opened. There was a murmur of polite voices, one male, who she recognised as Angus, the other female, but at first too indistinct for her to identify its owner. When she did, her heart leapt, and, quick-minded as she was, she realised that here was a chance to prove to Alex that she was indeed worthy to play an active role in his affairs.

She swept down the rest of the stairs, afraid she would lose her nerve if she hesitated, and presented herself at the door before Angus could do anything to stop her.

“Isabella!” she cried, walking out on to the step to embrace her startled cousin, who had just been assured that, regretfully, Sir Anthony and his wife were indisposed to receive visitors. “And Clarissa!” Beth continued, seeing her hovering uncertainly in the background. “What a delightful surprise! Please, come in.”

“Only if it is convenient.” Isabella fluttered. “We were merely taking the air in the vicinity, and called in the hopes that you would be at home. We were sure you would forgive the intrusion. But your footman here said that you were not seeing visitors.”

“It is true, Sir Anthony and I do not wish to encourage a flood of visitors, as we want to spend the time before we leave for Dover in becoming more closely acquainted. But of course we will make an exception in the case of yourselves,” Beth enthused, ushering her cousins into the hall. “After all, without your kindness and generosity towards myself and Richard, I would not have met my husband in the first place!”

She turned to Angus.

“Ah…”

“Jim,” he supplied, his expression servile, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. He knew exactly what she was about, Beth realised, and did not disapprove.

“Jim,” she confirmed. “Could you arrange for refreshments to be served in the library, please?”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemingly thought better of it, instead making a slight bow, and turning to close the door.

Beth led her visitors, who were observing their surroundings with some curiosity, to one of the several doors which led off the hall, and opening it, turned back to address her company.

“I am afraid Sir Anthony is still asleep, having had a most restless night,” she began, and then was arrested by Isabella’s gasp of shock. She turned round to see what had caused her cousin’s consternation, and was confronted by the sight of her husband lounging on a sofa reading a book, dressed as yesterday, in only breeches and shirt. When he was not playing Sir Anthony, he took every opportunity to dress as casually as possible. On seeing the shocked countenance of Isabella, he dropped the book and leapt to his feet. For a split second, Beth froze. She had expected Alex to be in the dining room as he had been the day before.

“Abernathy,” came the helpful voice from the hall behind her.

“Well,” she declared, walking into the room. “I can see that my husband has permitted his servants to take the most appalling advantage of his generous nature, but I can assure you, Abernathy, that I will permit no such laxity. You will repair to your room immediately, and dress yourself as befits a servant in the employ of a baronet. And if I see you taking such liberties again as I have now discovered you to be doing, you will be dismissed on the spot without a character. Do you understand?”

The man in front of her became instantly the picture of a servant caught in the wrong, red-faced and ashamed, resentful of the way he was being spoken to, but determined to conceal it in order to keep his very lucrative employment. He made a deep bow to his mistress and hurried from the room. God, he was good, she thought admiringly.

“I am most terribly sorry,” Beth said, after the door had closed. Her heart was banging in her chest, and she thanked God that her nervous pallor could be attributed to the shock of encountering a half-naked footman. “Please, sit down. Are you all right, Isabella? You look most dreadfully pale.”

“No, I am fine, I assure you,” replied her cousin, who was too well bred to admit to her shock.

The two sisters took their places side by side on the sofa Alex had so hurriedly vacated. Beth wondered whether the cousins would comment on the remarkable coincidence that the servant Abernathy appeared to have a broken nose, just like Sir Anthony.

“We came to see you because we were a little concerned about your state of health,” explained Clarissa. Beth looked at her, somewhat puzzled. “We wished to assure ourselves that you had not suffered any lasting harm from your indisposition.”

For a moment Beth had no idea what Clarissa was talking about. She was still pondering whether she should volunteer a comment on Abernathy’s bruising, which would draw attention to it, or wait until they said something.

“Oh, of course,” she said after a moment. “What can I say? I am so bitterly ashamed of my behaviour. I am afraid I must admit that I had drunk a little more wine than was strictly prudent, and when I saw Sir Anthony flirting with that hussy….”

Iain was sitting comfortably at the table, watching his wife peel vegetables for the dinner, when Angus came speeding through the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” he said, automatically reaching for his swordbelt, which was lying beside him on the bench seat.

“Nothing,” Angus called behind him as he shot through the door into the yard. “I’m just away out to take the air.”

The couple had done no more than exchange a resigned glance before Alex pounded into the room.

“Where is he? I’ll skelp the wee bastard when I catch him.”

“He’s gone to take the air. He’ll be halfway to Oxford before ye catch up wi’ him. Ye ken how fast he is. And he’s wearing shoes,” Maggie said calmly, looking at Alex’s bare feet.

They both looked at him with interest, awaiting an explanation as to what mischief Angus had caused now.

“Tea,” their chieftain announced enigmatically. “For three. Formal, on a tray, wi' cakes and such. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“…Of course I wanted to come immediately and apologise to you, but Sir Anthony thought it better that I wait for a day or two. I never dreamed that you would be worried about me. Really, you are kindness itself.” Beth leaned across and patted Isabella’s hand, wondering if she was overdoing it a little. At least the colour had now returned to the sisters’ faces, and they seemed more at ease.