Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (41 page)

“All the more reason for us to fight for Charlie.” Angus spoke for the first time, his voice emerging thickly through his split lip. “What more can we ask for than to kill both the Campbells and the English, and all in a noble cause?”

Several men laughed at that, and there was a cheer of agreement. The Campbells were the sworn enemies of the MacGregor clan, and had been for centuries.

The meeting broke up a few minutes later, the mood generally cheerful. Although the men were upset about Jean, they were relieved that the traitor had been found and vastly relieved to be going home so soon. They left in ones and twos through the rear door, disappearing silently into the back streets without attracting attention.

Duncan, Angus and Iain remained, and settled to finish off the last bottle of brandy. Alex drained his glass as though it were water, sitting back and closing his eyes wearily. He felt deeply sorry for having to raise the subject of Jean’s betrayal in front of so many men, but there was no help for it. He had needed witnesses to ensure there would be no later dispute about the punishment, or the fact that her husband rather than himself was administering it. Angus drained his own glass almost as fast as Alex, wincing slightly as the alcohol stung his injured lip.

“Are ye all right, man?” Alex said gently. Angus looked at him through his one good eye.

“Aye, I’ll do,” he said. “Though I doubt I’ll be helping to bring the next shipment in. I think ye cracked one of my ribs.” There was no accusation in his tone. “I’ll not give you cause to do that again, Alex. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

 The four men drank in silence for a time.

“You didna say anything to the men about the other matter in hand,” Duncan said eventually.

Alex ran his hand through his hair, as he always did when worried or irritated. Several strands were pulled loose by the gesture and glinted copper in the candlelight.

“No point in bothering them unduly. They had enough to deal with tonight, without me worrying them wi’ something that might not happen.”

“Aye, but on the other hand, it might. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”

“I’m sure. I’ve been watching for a long time. And hesitating. But if I dinna move soon, it’ll be too late. There’s a slight risk, but I’m willing to take it.”

“I’m no’ so sure I’d be willing,” Duncan said. Angus nodded agreement. “But I’ll stand by ye if you’re determined to go ahead. But will ye no’ think again, before you make your final decision?”

Alex looked at his two brothers.

“I’ve nae choice in the matter,” he smiled helplessly, his eyes suddenly soft. “
Tha gràdh agam oirre.
”

His three companions exchanged sympathetic glances.

“Ah. Well,” said Angus. “I guess there’s no more to be said, then.”

Chapter Fifteen

Beth lay on the bed, the letter Sarah had just given her clutched to her breast. She felt a shiver of excitement thrill through her, like a small child faced with a brightly-wrapped Christmas present. The last week had been hell, with Lord Edward, face set and grim, refusing her the loan of the carriage to visit Caroline. When Beth had expressed the intention to walk to her friend’s house he had actually stood in front of the door, barring her way, Richard smiling nastily in the background. Her cousin had pompously told her that that he felt it better if she only went out in the company of his sisters until she had learned to behave in a more genteel manner. Although furious, she had, with difficulty retained the presence of mind to weigh up the situation, looking from her cousin to her brother. Edward would not hurt her, she knew that. But in his expression she could also see that he would not prevent Richard from restraining her in whatever manner he thought fit, were she to lose her temper.

She opted for disappointing Richard by acquiescing meekly to Edward’s demands, and had been a model of perfect behaviour ever since, to the whole family’s intense relief, although she had not apologised to Edward as he had hoped. She had to keep some of her principles intact, although it had cost her dear. She was finding it increasingly difficult to fight off the depression that threatened to overwhelm her and sap her strength.

There was one small ray of light in her life, which came in the form of her maid. She blessed the day she had decided to employ Sarah, who had managed, while performing a small errand, to hare round to Caroline’s, give a brief explanation of her mistress’s current situation and pick up the waiting letter. Beth now carefully opened the sheet of paper and started to read.

Dearest Beth,

How wonderful it is to address you by your proper name! As I said in my other letter, which your brother will by now certainly have shown you, we are all well. Even Graeme’s joints are much better, although we feel this is due to the dry weather rather than any improvement in his general health. We all miss you terribly, as I am sure you know.

We were very sorry to hear about Lord Daniel. We were hoping that you could marry a man who would bring you happiness as well as relieve you of the burden of your brother. But it is far better that you knew what he was beforehand, thus escaping a terrible fate.

As for Lord Redburn, Graeme became most agitated on hearing of him, and said be would abduct and marry you himself before he would let you fall into the hands of such a drunken fool! I am sure you will be able to outwit your brother in his designs. But I urge you to keep in mind the present we gave to you when last we saw you. Do not hesitate to return to us if you need to. We are all agreed on this.

The words suddenly misted and blurred, and Beth stopped reading for a moment to wipe her eyes. Then she continued.

Now we have some news for you, regarding John, although whether you will welcome it or not is another matter.

Some three weeks ago, it being a fine day, Thomas, Graeme and I walked into Manchester, on the excuse of buying provisions, but really to enjoy the lovely weather. We had been there for some short while, when who should come marching up the street but the militia, fresh from their training in Lincoln. They looked very fine with their muskets, bayonets and swords, some of them in blue coats and buff belts, which seemed to be an attempt at uniform. Needless to say, Graeme was not at all impressed by this show of strength, and made numerous derogatory comments in a rather loud voice, which attracted not a little attention from the marchers.

Of course we looked for John, although expecting he would try to avoid us. To our surprise, he did no such thing, but on seeing us, waved merrily and abandoning his position without a care, came over to us. Before I could do more than greet him Graeme had launched into a tirade of insults, saying that he was amazed John even had the cheek to breathe the same air as us. John tried to explain something, but could not get more than two words out before Graeme told him that he had no wish to listen to those who abandoned all their principles and deserted their true King for a coat and 6d a day. (John was one of those fortunate, or unfortunate enough, depending on your view, to have been issued with a new coat.)

John then lost his temper, and becoming very hot, declared that if Graeme believed him to have betrayed the Jacobite cause, then he was an even bigger fool than he thought him to be. Whereupon Graeme listened to no more, but struck John a mighty blow in the face, which, taking John by surprise, knocked him down. He would have followed this up with a further assault, but that Thomas and I, having noted that others were now showing a great interest in the proceedings and that some of the militiamen, having marched past, were now looking curiously back, seized Graeme and dragged him by main force into the back streets, where we managed to calm him enough to get him home without further trouble. Since then he has spoken no more of the incident. In truth, I do not understand John’s motives, as he was always so fervent in the Jacobite cause. I would never have believed him capable of betraying it, but can see no other explanation for his actions.

At least from this account you know that John is well, apart from the possible loss of a tooth and a bloody nose, and that Graeme shows no signs of mellowing with age.

I will write again as soon as I receive your reply assuring me that the address is still safe.

Your friend,

             Jane.

Beth lay back and closed her eyes. She could almost see the incident in her mind, the dust kicked up by the marching feet, the sun glinting on swords and bayonets, Graeme’s weatherbeaten face red with anger, John’s shocked expression as he landed in the dirt...she opened her eyes quickly. Like Jane she could not understand John’s motives, but she understood far better now how easy people found it to betray each other. Sir Anthony had been right. Trust no one. That she was not suited to society life she made no bones about. But she had told no one of her desperate loneliness, of the strain of coping with the boredom and hypocrisy, the meaningless conversation and backstabbing, without a single true friend in whom she could confide.

True, she had Sarah. But although the maid listened sympathetically to Beth, she had no empathy with her. Sarah would eagerly have swapped places with Beth at a moment’s notice, considering marriage to an alcoholic ancient lord a small price to pay for the title and luxury she would gain. Of course, thought Beth with a smile, Sarah would not hesitate to take a lover if she saw fit, or to deceive her husband at every opportunity. In fact she would relish it.

I want too much,
thought Beth.
I want a loving man, who I can trust, and who will love me for myself. If I had that, I could cope with this artificial life, if I had to.

She thought she had found that in Daniel. Now she knew she would not find it in anyone.

She opened the letter again, intending to re-read it to divert her mind from the depression that she was rapidly thinking herself into. She was half way through it when she heard Sarah’s voice outside the door, speaking with unusual loudness and clarity.

“I am not sure if she is dressed to receive a visitor, Sergeant Cunningham,” she was saying. “If you will just let me enquire...”

Knowing that Richard would allow Sarah to do no such thing, Beth jumped off the bed and lifted the mattress, pushing the letter well underneath it where it was in no danger of slipping out. When Richard walked in she was sitting on a chair by the fire deeply absorbed in a book. She looked up in surprise. Sarah had obvious intentions of following him into the room, but he shut the door in her face.

Beth put her book down and eyed him warily, although her tone when she spoke was neutral, if formal.

“Well, Richard, I assume this is not a social call. What is the matter?”

“I need to speak to you on a matter of the utmost importance,” he said pompously. His eyes were eager and he was clearly very excited about something. Beth’s heart sank. Whatever it was, she was sure she would not share his enthusiasm.

“What is it?” she asked tiredly.

“Sir Anthony Peters wishes to make a proposal of marriage to you.”

Beth stared at him.

“You are joking with me, Richard. You must be,” she said after a moment. “If you wished to find an excuse to talk to me and reconcile matters between us, you could surely have fabricated a better story than that.”

“I’m not trying to reconcile matters between us,” Richard retorted impatiently. “Well, I do want to, of course,” he amended, rather insincerely.

“A simple apology for destroying my property would suffice,” she suggested coldly, knowing he would offer no such thing.

“Yes, well, of course I am sorry for causing you any distress, but I acted as I did in the interests of both of us, you must have realised that.”

Beth was astounded. With one notable exception, she had never heard her brother apologise for any action he had taken, no matter how violent or outrageous. Even though he had qualified his apology, still it put her immediately on high alert.

“You’re not joking, are you? He really
has
proposed marriage.”

“Not exactly, but he does intend to. He came to me this morning to ask my opinion as to how you might receive a proposal from him.”

“And what did you say?”

Richard had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed before he answered.

“I told him that I was sure you would be honoured, and that you would give it serious consideration.”

“I see,” Beth replied. Richard could surely not believe for one minute that she would entertain this proposal, and would be expecting her to lose her temper. If she could remain composed she had a chance of wrong-footing him.

“Did he tell you why he wishes to marry me?” she asked. “After all, he has a permanent entourage of silly girls who would jump at the chance of marriage to him, and who are eminently more compatible with him than I am.”

“He only told me that he finds you very beautiful, and that he is quite overcome by affection for you.”

This was so obviously a quote from the horse’s mouth that Beth laughed out loud.

“How many gesticulations did he use to embellish his words?” She placed the back of her hand on her forehead and threw her head back. “My dear boy, I positively think I shall
die
if she refuses me,” she drawled in a creditable imitation of Sir Anthony’s slightly high-pitched voice.

Richard watched her, his face stony. Beth sighed. He must have inherited his lack of humour from his mother, she thought. Papa would have roared with laughter at the whole idea of his daughter marrying such a feeble-minded popinjay. She was unexpectedly assaulted by a wave of grief at the realisation that she would never hear her father laugh again, and sank back down into her chair, rubbing her hand fiercely across her face to fight back the tears that threatened.

“What has he promised you?” she asked bluntly. When Richard opened his mouth to deny that he had been promised anything, she hurriedly continued before he could speak.