Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

On his way back out he had met Ben, who told him he had seen John running from the barn some time earlier. On hearing this, Graeme had made that his next port of call, and now carried his mistress across the yard to the house, his face set and grim.

The first sense to recover was her hearing, and Beth listened hazily to the concerned murmurs going on around her. Her limbs felt heavy as though they did not belong to her, and she was pleasantly drowsy. Then she felt something cool and soothing on her head, and her mind cleared.

“John...” she cried, although her voice came out as no more than a whisper, and she struggled to pull herself upright. Pain exploded in her head and stars danced across her vision. She slumped back against Graeme’s arm. She closed her eyes, and dimly through the banging in her head was aware of something being held to her lips.

“Here, drink this.” Jane’s voice came from a distance. “It will help to ease the pain.”

Beth swallowed painfully, then lay still, waiting for the pain to subside a little before attempting to move again. She was aware now that she was on Graeme’s lap, his arm supporting her in a half-sitting position. Her face was turned towards his chest, her cheek resting against his worn leather waistcoat. She inhaled the scent of leather mixed with freshly turned soil and the sweet smell of growing green things that emanated from him, and was transported momentarily back to her childhood, when she would curl up on his knee like a kitten and listen to the conversation of the adults, only half comprehending what they were talking about, but enjoying the sound of their voices. Sometimes he would tell her stories of the great deeds of the ’15 and his exploits during his brief period as a rebel. Sometimes she would doze off, and he would carry her gently up to bed, or to her mother.

But the voices around her now were not engaged in pleasant conversation, and she was no longer a child. She fought the impulse to drift off into the welcome oblivion of sleep. She moved slowly this time, managing to achieve a more upright position without too much pain.

“John,” she said again, her voice audible this time. “Where is he?”

Thomas and Jane looked at each other. Jane nodded.

“It seems he’s gone. At least we can’t find him anywhere, although his shirt was in the barn. There was blood on it.” Thomas hesitated, but he had to ask the question. “Did he do this to you, Beth?”

“John? No! Of course not!” she cried, outraged that Thomas could even think such a thing.

“I’m sorry, Beth, but I had to ask. After all, we found you unconscious in the barn, and Ben saw John running away half naked...”

She saw now how it must have looked, and how Richard could make it look if he chose to. She beckoned for another drink, and took a deep swallow. She felt a bit better now. The room was no longer tilting and her limbs were recovering their life.

Sarah walked in.

“The master is ready for dessert...” Her voice faltered as she took in the sight that presented itself to her; the mistress sitting on the gardener’s knee, white-faced, the other servants around the table, their faces full of concern. Jane jumped to her feet and cut a large slice from the suet pudding which was steaming on the stove. Slopping it carelessly into a dish, she ladled a generous helping of cream on to it, then turned to the maid.

“You may take the rest of the evening off, and go to your room, Sarah,” Jane said.

The maid hesitated. “But the master...”

“I will take his dessert to him. Go to your room. I will see you in the morning.”

“But...”

Thomas stood up.

“Are you offering to disobey my wife, girl?” he roared, his hand raised ominously. Sarah fled, and Thomas sat down again.

Beth waited until Jane had returned from the dining room and then told them what had happened that afternoon, leaving nothing out. When she had finished, there was a short silence, then Thomas got slowly to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Jane and Beth asked together.

“To the dining room. I’ve put up with insults, ridiculous orders and contempt from that jumped-up puppy, but I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by while he beats women, and flogs young boys for no reason.” His handsome face was grim, but his green eyes flashed fire.

Graeme shifted in his seat, and put his arm under Beth’s knees to lift her off his lap.

“I’ll come with you,” he said.

Beth leapt from Graeme’s knee and stood, chalk-white and swaying slightly.

“No!” she cried. “You cannot reason with him, Thomas.”

“I wasn’t thinking of having a conversation with the man,” Thomas replied coldly. Jane’s face paled as well now, and Beth braced her arms on the table to keep herself upright.

“Thomas,” she said determinedly. “If you do this, you’ll be playing into his hands. He’s a soldier. If he doesn’t kill you himself, he will certainly call the authorities to you, and will derive the greatest pleasure from doing so. What help will you be to Jane or to me if you’re rotting in prison or transported to the colonies?”

Thomas rubbed his hand across his face in vexation.

“Well, then call the law in yourself, Beth. We’ll all stand witness for you. He has no right to treat you this way. You’re his sister, not his wife.”

“I know, Thomas, but what would I tell the magistrate? I threw a knife at him and called him a coward. He could argue that he hit me in self-defence.”

“And did he?” Jane asked.

“No,” Beth admitted. “But he’ll likely be believed if he does. He accused John of trying to seduce me. If he tells the magistrate that he caught his sister in the arms of the stable boy, after which she attacked him, he’ll be commended for saving me from ruin.”

Thomas sank down on to the bench opposite Beth again, to both women’s relief. Beth also sank down gratefully next to Graeme.

“And if we do nothing, what then?” Thomas asked. “Which one of us will be beaten next? And how long will it be before he hits you again?”

“Richard wanted rid of John, because he made a fool of himself in front of him. As for Martha, he didn’t approve of her morals.”

Jane snorted derisively. “I don’t see him having any problems with that slut who warms his bed every night,” she said, referring to Sarah. “I’ve no doubt he tried to have his way with Martha and she told him where to go.” That Sarah was Richard’s bedmate was news to Beth, although she didn’t comment on it.

“Even so, he’s got rid of the two people he disapproves of. I don’t think he’ll take such extreme measures against any more of you. As for me, I will not antagonise him again. But that doesn’t mean I will do nothing.”

The next morning Beth was up, dressed and riding for Manchester by daybreak. When Edward Cox arrived at his office in Deansgate, he found her waiting for him.

“Miss Cunningham!” he exclaimed, when he had identified her through the veil which covered her forehead and eyes. “What a pleasure to see you.”

“I am sorry to disturb you at such an early hour, but I hoped that you could spare me a few minutes of your time.”

Within twenty minutes she was sitting in his office sipping chocolate, while he regarded her across his desk.

“I really don’t see what I can do to help you,” he said. “I can only tell you the same as I told your brother yesterday. The dowry can only be released to your husband, or to yourself if you attain the age of thirty unmarried. If you die before either of those events takes place – which I am sure you will not, my dear – then the money goes to build a hospital for foundling children. Your father made it quite clear what his wishes were.”

“My brother was here yesterday?” Beth asked.

“Why, of course. I thought you knew...”

“And did he ask you specifically about what would happen to the dowry were I to die?”

“Well, he asked a lot of questions. But that was one of them, yes. I thought he was speaking on behalf of both of you. But I see now that I was misled.” Mr Cox was not impressed. He had given Richard the benefit of his advice in good faith, but was now feeling distinctly uneasy about the man’s motives.

“And you are certain there is no way we can challenge this in the court?” Beth asked.

“Well, of course you can make a challenge, but it would be expensive, and even if you were to agree to your dowry being made over to Sergeant Cunningham, which of course you wouldn’t, it could still...”

“I would,” interrupted Beth.

“You would what?” Mr Cox asked.

“I would do anything to get my brother out of my life. If giving him my dowry will achieve that, I will do it.”

Edward Cox was dumbfounded.

“You cannot be serious, my dear,” he said after a moment. “That would leave you penniless. And as I was about to say, a challenge might take several years to be ruled on and could fail even then.”

“I will be frank with you, Mr Cox. My brother is hungry for promotion, and wants an officer’s commission. He also wants to make an entrance into society. In our current financial situation, that is impossible. He feels that the only solution is for me to go begging to my father’s noble family in the hopes that they will assist me in finding a wealthy and influential husband who can help Richard achieve his aims.”

“Your brother does have a point, my dear. You are quite amazingly beautiful. It is one answer to your problems.”

Beth put her cup down on the table with a crash that threatened to shatter the delicate porcelain.

“I am sick of people telling me that I am beautiful and that he may have a point! Why can nobody understand that I have too much self-respect to sell myself to the highest bidder to satisfy my brother’s ambition?”

“It is the way things are done in society,” Mr Cox pointed out gently. “Few nobles marry for love.”

“But I am not noble, nor do I wish to be. I just wish to live a quiet peaceful life in the country, and be left alone.”

The lawyer looked incredulous. He had known Beth since she was a child, and although he could not see her fitting into the strict etiquette of society life, no more could he see her living peacefully and uneventfully in the country. She had always been full of life and mischief and showed no signs of mellowing as she matured.

“Is there any way we can release enough money to at least buy Richard his commission?” she pleaded.

“I will look into it,” Mr Cox said doubtfully. “But if not, your brother can surely wait? If you agree to buy him a commission when you marry or reach thirty... at the most he will have to wait seven years. He is a young man and has achieved the rank of sergeant on his own merit. He may go higher without having to purchase his rank.”

Beth removed her hat.

“My brother grows impatient for me to comply with his wishes,” she said. “I doubt I will survive another seven years of his impatience.”

Edward Cox eyed the livid black bruise which coloured her right temple and cheek with horror.

“You must go to the authorities,” he said, aghast.

“I don’t think they will be sympathetic.” She sat down and smiled sadly. “Just before he did this I threw a knife at him and called him a coward for brutally flogging my stable boy without cause.” She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at the elderly lawyer.

“May God forgive me, but I am fast growing to hate Richard,” she said earnestly. “He is making my life, and the lives of my servants unbearable. We cannot continue like this. Please, you must help me.”

Edward Cox bit his lip. He did not have the money to loan her the sum she needed, or he would have done. He looked down at the Cunningham papers, which sat on the table between them.

“I cannot promise anything,” he said. “But I will do everything I can to find a loophole in the law. I don’t hold out much hope, but if there is a way I will find it. Come back to me in a week.”

“Thank you.” She stood to leave, and he got up to assist her to the door. When she offered her hand he took it and pressed it gently, then retaining his grip, looked at her with concern.

“Is there no one you could go and stay with?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I will not leave him alone with my servants. But I won’t throw any more knives at him, either,” she smiled. “I will give him a very wide berth and will see you next week.”

Chapter Three

Two days of staying mainly in her room to keep out of Richard’s way drove the normally active Beth to distraction. She had written a letter to her friend Mary, had re-read Robinson Crusoe, and on the evening of the second day had started to write references for her servants, which she determined to give to all of them, so that in the event they were to be obliged to leave quickly as John and Martha had, at least they would have a good chance of obtaining employment elsewhere.

In the whole two days Richard had not budged from the house either, to Beth’s annoyance. No doubt this was partially due to the heavy rain that slanted down almost continuously from a leaden sky. Looking out of her window intermittently during the day, she had seen Ben and Graeme splashing to and from the stables. They had now temporarily taken over John’s tasks, until a new stable hand could be found. The rest of the servants had kept indoors as much as possible, and the general atmosphere of depression inside the house matched the grey gloom of the wintry weather outside.

As a result of this adverse weather Beth had used more candles than usual, and it was late in the evening of the second day, when she was just putting the finishing touches to Grace’s reference before going to bed, that her candle suddenly flared, then started to gutter. A quick look in the drawer revealed to her that this was the last of her supply, and unwilling to abandon her task when it was so nearly completed she quickly wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, being dressed otherwise only in her shift. Taking the guttering candle with her, shielding the flame from the draught with her hand, she ran quickly and silently downstairs to get some more from the cupboard under the stairs, automatically avoiding the third step from the bottom, which creaked loudly when weight was put on it. The house appeared deserted. The servants would already be in bed but she had expected Richard to be ensconced in the library. But the library door was open, and no light or noise came from within. Either the hour was later than she had thought, or he had decided to have an early night. She lit a fresh candle from the stub of the first, then decided to take advantage of Richard’s absence to get another book.