Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (34 page)

She was brushing her hair when there was a gentle knock on the door, and Sarah’s head popped round it.

“Ah, Sarah, there you are!” Beth said in a bright tone she was far from feeling. “Can you help me to dress my hair, please?”

“Er, yes, but you have a visitor,” Sarah replied, coming a little further into the room. “Sir Anthony Peters is here to escort you to see the king.”

Beth flushed scarlet.

“Tell him to go to hell,” she said. “I have no wish to see him, now or ever again.”

Sarah went down to the drawing room, where Sir Anthony was waiting in the company of Isabella and Richard, and relayed her mistress’s message, using a somewhat more tactful wording.

“Oh,” said the baronet, rising from his seat. “Well, if Miss Cunningham is still indisposed, I am sure the king will understand. Perhaps another time.” He prepared to leave. Isabella fluttered after him into the hall. Richard sat tight-lipped for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides, then slowly got to his feet. His intentions were written clearly on his face.

Sarah made a rapid assessment of the situation and sent up a silent prayer to heaven that she was about to do the right thing. She hurried out into the hallway.

“Miss Cunningham is much better,” she said. “In fact, she is up and dressed, although not for Court. I think she is only a little shy of meeting the king.” She reddened under Sir Anthony’s unblinking gaze, and looked demurely at the floor.

“Oh Sir Anthony, if she is dressed, then you must go up and persuade her not to miss this wonderful opportunity!” Isabella cried.

“Er...I am not sure that is wise, my dear,” Sir Anthony ventured.

“You could charm the birds from the trees with your eloquence, Sir Anthony. Please, I beg of you.”

Richard appeared in the hall, his face set. He looked up the stairs.

“Well, if you are sure, Isabella,” Sir Anthony said. He mounted the stairs reluctantly, followed by Sarah, who showed him to the correct door. She knocked gently, then stood back to allow him to enter.

“Come in!” Beth said without looking round, recognising the maid’s knock. “Can you help me to get this mess into some sort of shape?”

Sir Anthony looked at the cascading silver-blonde waves with admiration.

“Yes, if you wish, but I am not sure it would be proper, my dear,” he said.

Beth spun round on her stool, her face flushing red.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she said. “Get out!”

“Ah...Isabella thought I might be able to persuade you to...”

“Get out!” she shrieked again, cutting him off in mid-sentence, and reaching for the first object to hand.

He managed to regain the safety of the landing and close the door a fraction of a second before the heavy silver-backed hairbrush thudded into the wood where his head had just been.

“I think my persuasive powers are somewhat lacking this morning,” he said jovially to Sarah, who was still standing on the landing. “Perhaps it would be better if I were to try another day, when your mistress is in a calmer frame of mind.”

Richard, who had been halfway up the stairs, had witnessed Sir Anthony’s hasty withdrawal. He now joined them on the landing.

“If you would be so kind as to wait in the drawing room a few moments longer, Sir Anthony, I am sure I can persuade my sister to change her mind,” he said with a cold smile, and marching past the baronet and the maid, opened the door of his sister’s room without knocking and walked in, closing it firmly behind him.

Sarah made an instinctive move to follow him, and then hesitated. She was clearly very alarmed. Sir Anthony looked at her, and then took up a position by the door, leaning nonchalantly on the wall. He beckoned Sarah closer. She moved next to him and listened. From inside the room she could hear the murmur of voices, although she could not make out the words.

“Be at ease, my dear,” he whispered to Sarah. “If your mistress requires assistance, we will know by the tone of her voice and can rush to her aid immediately.”

They stood outside the room, silent, listening. The murmur of voices continued for a time, the tone rising and falling, but never showing signs of alarm or violence. Hearing a sudden ominous silence, Sir Anthony shot from his post, seizing the startled Sarah by the arm and dragging her down the landing, and a few seconds later when Richard opened the door the two were standing by a flower display deep in conversation about the technical aspects of arranging blooms.

“Of course, Miss Charlotte is far more of an expert than I, Sir Anthony,” Sarah said, improvising wildly. “I am sure she’d be delighted to instruct you in how to arrange flowers correctly, if you wish to learn.”

“I do,” replied Sir Anthony. “And I will remember in future to cut the stems on a slant, as you suggest,”

She nodded approvingly, although she had suggested no such thing, having only had time to utter the one sentence before Richard emerged from the room.

They looked up as he approached them, his face still flushed from his interview with his sister.

“Your mistress requires your assistance to dress for Court, Sarah,” he said formally. “Sir Anthony, if you would be so kind as to wait a short while longer, Elizabeth will be delighted to accompany you to see his Majesty the King.”

Beth appeared in the drawing room twenty minutes later, a vision in the pale green silk dress her cousins had ordered specifically in case she should be lucky enough to gain an audience with the king. Her hair was elaborately dressed and powdered, diamonds sparkled at her ears and throat, and the obligatory four-foot-wide skirts brushed the edges of the door as she walked into the room, limping slightly. Her eyes glittered with a cold fury as her gaze passed between Richard and Sir Anthony, and her mouth was compressed into a tight line. She looked anything but delighted to be accompanying Sir Anthony to see the king, but he rose and bowed elaborately to her in homage to her beauty.

“Oh, Elizabeth!” gasped Charlotte and Isabella together. “The king will be enchanted!”

“Of course he will,” Sir Anthony said. “Who could not be by such incandescent beauty?” He offered her his arm, which she pointedly ignored.

“Shall we go?” she said coolly. “It would never do to be late.” She swept from the room, twitching her skirts sideways to pass through the door, and he followed in her wake.

In spite of the difficulties she had getting into the carriage, encumbered as she was by her clothing, she refused the assistance of her companion and finally managed to settle herself, arranging her billowing skirts around her. Sir Anthony sat opposite, and they rode in silence for a while, she looking pointedly out of the window to avoid having to speak to him.

“You are angry with me because I told you of Lord Daniel’s gambling debts,” he said finally. “Would you rather not have known?”

She turned from the window and regarded him icily.

“You are wrong, sir,” she replied. “I am not angry with you because you told me of Daniel’s gambling debts. I am angry with you because you called yourself my friend and then took pleasure in humiliating me in public.”

He sat forward so suddenly, bracing his hands on his knees as though he was about to lunge at her, that she flinched back instinctively. She had never seen him even so much as irritated before, and to her surprise a shiver of fear ran down her spine. He suddenly seemed large, threatening.

“I assure you, madam,” he said in tones as cold as hers, “that I got no pleasure from what I did. But you gave me no other choice. I tried to...”

“Spare me your excuses, Sir Anthony,” she interrupted. “If you are worried that I will behave inappropriately at St. James’s because of my hatred of you, you can rest assured that I will give the performance of my life. But know this. I have no wish to meet this king of yours; I am doing it because my cousins and society in general seem to think it important, and because my brother will dismiss all my servants in Manchester if I do not.” She paused, aware that in her anger and unaccountable fear she had said more than she had intended. She took a deep breath, and continued more slowly, thinking before she spoke this time.

“Once this visit is over, however, I would be obliged if you would terminate our acquaintance. I understand it is inevitable that we will meet from time to time, and I shall be polite when we do. But I have no need of friends such as you, who stab me in the back for the thrill of being the first to pass on a piece of juicy gossip.”

He sat back again in his seat, and regarded her intently for a moment in silence. Then he looked away.

“As you wish,” he said dismissively.

The return journey passed in uncomfortable silence. Beth had indeed given the performance of her life, but had switched off her vivacity like a tap the moment she re-entered the carriage. Sir Anthony’s mood echoed hers, and he sat tapping his fingers lightly on his knee, whilst looking intently out of the window. He had behaved in quite a different manner to his normal flowery affected self when in the presence of the king, and she observed him now discreetly. She had never seen him dress so soberly, in cream breeches and hose, with a tasteful navy blue waistcoat and frock coat, unadorned with his usual lavish embroidery. There was not even a hint of violet cologne about his person, and in spite of the customary heavy make-up, he had seemed positively masculine when discussing military matters in flawless German with the bluff, war-obsessed King George. She wondered, not for the first time, just what kind of man the real Sir Anthony was. He had probably been playing so many roles for so long, he didn’t even know who he was himself any more, she thought.

The carriage rattled to a halt, and Beth looked out of the window in surprise.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked.

“I promised Caroline that we would call round for tea after St James’s,” Sir Anthony replied. “I realise now that you will find my presence distinctly unpleasant, but I thought you would perhaps enjoy a little light conversation with Caroline before returning home. I will not be coming in,” he added. “I have business elsewhere, but will send the carriage back for you in an hour.”

He got down from the carriage and took her hand, releasing it the second she was safely on the pavement. His manner was stiff and formal.

“Thank you,” she said, still hating him, disturbed by the fact that he had been considerate enough to realise she would not want to return home immediately after meeting the king, and that Caroline was the only person whose company she would not find onerous after such a stressful morning.

“May I express my sincere regret that you will be forced to accompany me one more time to the Palace? I assure you I will do my best to make it as painless as possible for you,” he said.

Beth had been dismayed when the king, having left her to the lascivious attentions of his son the Duke of Cumberland, to whom she had taken an instant dislike, while he conversed enthusiastically with Sir Anthony in German, had suddenly turned back to her.

“Miss Cunningham, I was telling Sir Anthony that I am having a musical evening next week, and would be happy if you would grace us with your beauty.”

The duke’s eyes had lit up and Beth’s spirits had sunk, but she had had no choice but to accept his Majesty’s gracious invitation.

Sir Anthony accompanied her up the steps to Caroline’s house, then retired to his carriage before the door opened.

Caroline was in the cosy cream and blue decorated parlour when Beth was announced. She looked slightly puzzled, but made no comment on the absence of Sir Anthony.

“Sit down, Beth, before you fall down,” she said. “You look exhausted. Was it that dreadful, then?”

She could have been referring to anything, from Daniel’s marriage proposal to her rift with Sir Anthony, to her visit to St. James’s. Beth chose the latter to comment on.

“Yes,” she said, sinking down into a chair, and gratefully accepting a cup of tea. “I hate having to act a part. I must be getting good at it though. The king has invited me to a musical evening next week.”

Caroline whistled softly. “You must have impressed him,” she said. “He issues few invitations these days, except to close friends.”

“I didn’t think I had,” Beth said, relaxing into the chair as far as her enormous hooped skirt would allow her to. “After telling me he was delighted to make my acquaintance, he ignored me completely for over half an hour while he chattered away to Sir Anthony in German. I hadn’t realised they were such good friends.” She remembered the king throwing an arm companionably round Sir Anthony’s shoulders as he led him off to a nearby table, on which were spread numerous maps.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say they were good friends, exactly. But Anthony does have the advantage of speaking fluent German, which most of George’s British subjects do not. He can also listen for hours apparently enthralled to the king’s incessant repetitions of the glorious military days of his youth, which he’s hoping now to repeat in his old age.”

“Is he?” Beth asked, surprised.

“Yes, of course. It’s common knowledge that the king intends to lead his troops in person. He is preparing to leave for Holland in a couple of weeks. I believe Prince William Augustus is going with him. Of course, you have been occupied with other matters for some weeks, otherwise you would have known that.”

Beth circumvented the subject Caroline was obliquely referring to.

“Prince William Augustus was there too,” she said. “I certainly made an impression on him. I thought his eyeballs were going to drop out into my bosom, he stared at it so much.”

Caroline laughed.

“Your breasts are certainly displayed to their best advantage in that dress,” she said, looking at the considerable expanse of creamy white bosom revealed by the low décolletage.

“It’s not the dress, it’s the stays pushing them up,” Beth said. “Sarah laced me so tightly, I’m surprised my breasts didn’t pop out of the dress altogether. Perhaps that’s what the duke was hoping for. I have never worn anything so cumbersome and uncomfortable in my life as this ridiculous gown. I can’t wait to get out of it.”

“I think you may have to get used to it, if you have taken the eye of the prince. You will no doubt be invited to all manner of royal functions in the future.”