The Mask Revealed (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 2) (39 page)

When Duncan entered the room he paused for a moment to survey the damage. The table had been overturned, breaking the plate, although the empty bottle had rolled harmlessly into the corner. This confrontation had clearly been brewing for some considerable time, which was why Duncan had allowed it to continue for a while. If he had intervened immediately he would have only succeeded, at best, in postponing the conflict for an hour or two. Hopefully they would now have released enough of their anger to be able to talk it through later without coming to blows again. It had gone on long enough, though. Both men were still conscious, just, and on the floor, Alex straddling Angus, who had his hands round the older man’s throat, and was doing his best to strangle him. As Duncan lifted the first bucket, Alex gripped his brother by the ears and lifting his head, smashed it back into the floor with enough force to render a lesser foe unconscious. Angus’s grip relaxed slightly, before tightening again. They were oblivious to Duncan’s presence, to anything except killing each other. Alex lifted his brother’s head again. His face was scarlet.

Duncan threw the freezing contents of the first bucket over his two siblings, followed closely by the second, then went and sat back down. The grunts and dull thuds of the previous minutes were transformed into splutters and Gaelic oaths. A few moments later, the two brothers stood, and approached the chair where Duncan was sitting. Four dark blue eyes, or more correctly three, the fourth being swollen shut, regarded him balefully. Duncan returned their look calmly. Water dripped from the tangled ends of Alex’s hair. Angus’s face was smeared with watery gore.

“It seems to me,” Duncan said conversationally, undisturbed by their apparent hostility towards him. He knew his brothers, and they knew him, “that we all agree Beth is a fine woman. And it’s also clear that ye still love her, Alex. So, it strikes me that ye’ve the two options. Either ye trust her, in which case you really should go and talk tae her and sort out the misunderstanding between you, because she thinks ye dinna. That’s why she’s left, to go to those who trust her, and who she trusts. She tellt me to tell ye that, if you asked. Ye havena asked, but I think it’s time ye knew it anyway. She said ye’d ken what she meant.”

Angus sneezed and moved closer to the fire, shivering. His face was almost unrecognisable as that of the handsome young man who had entered the room a few hours earlier. Alex did not move, but his hands slowly relaxed by his sides. His face had not suffered as badly, but his nose was bleeding, the skin over his ribs was darkening, and there were distinct finger marks on his neck.

“What’s the second option?” he said, his voice rasping painfully.

“That ye dinna trust her, in which case she poses a danger to all of us,” Duncan said, eyeing his brother carefully. The hands remained relaxed. The violence was over. Hopefully. “Now, ye both ken her well, better than I do, having spent a lot more time wi’ her, and are obviously very taken wi’ her, in your different ways. So, if the second option is what it’s to be, I’ll volunteer to go up to Manchester and kill her for ye. I’m no’ so close to her as you both seem tae be.”

“What?” Angus gasped from his position by the fire. Alex’s eyes darkened. Duncan held his gaze, his grey eyes calm, measuring, his body tensed in readiness.

“If ye dinna trust her, Alex, then she canna be allowed to live, with what she knows. Ye ken that well, man. Ye canna have one rule for yourself, and another for the rest of the clan. If any MacGregor proves themselves to be untrustworthy, they must be got rid of.”

“She’s no’ proved herself untrustworthy,” Alex said, reluctantly.

“Has she no’?” He held his brother’s eyes, saw the hostility, the wish to avoid the issue, to avoid the pain. To avoid the pain, at all costs. By sheer force of will he refused to let Alex look away, pushed through the reluctance, willing him to face it, to recognise that he had to deal with it one way or another, because he could not continue like this. Angus, aware of what was happening, remained wisely silent.

“No,” Alex murmured, after thirty interminable, exhausting seconds. “She hasna proved herself untrustworthy.”

Duncan relaxed and passed his hand over his eyes, breaking his hold on Alex.

“Then for Christ’s sake, man, stop torturing yourself, and her, and go and tell her ye trust her, and bring her back,” he said wearily.

“I’m no’ sure that she’ll come back, if I do,” Alex whispered. His eyes were very dark. Duncan hadn’t realised until then just how much he loved her, how afraid he was.

“She’ll definitely no’ come back, an’ ye dinna,” he pointed out gently. “But she wants to, I can tell ye that much. An’ ye leave it too long, she’ll likely change her mind, though. It’s up to you.” He stood, feeling exhausted. What his brothers must feel like, he had no idea. “I’m away to my bed,” he said. “I’d suggest ye do the same.”

They did. Duncan slept for five hours, Angus for fourteen. When he surfaced, swollen, stiff and sore, and limped downstairs to eat everything in the house and tell Maggie and Iain of his exciting adventures in Europe, his eldest brother was gone. How long he had slept, no one knew. The household settled down to wait, again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The letter from Duncan advising Beth that Alex was all right and was on his way home arrived in Didsbury the day after she did. It was brief and to the point, but annoyingly devoid of any detail. She assumed from it that her husband had not sent any personal message to her, as Duncan would surely have sent it on if he had, and she decided to try to forget about him. That was not too difficult in the first few days, as she had plenty to occupy her mind.

First of all there was the long and very difficult interview with her solicitor, financial adviser and friend Edward Cox, regarding the remaining amount of her dowry, which Sir Anthony had signed over to her, and which was considerable. She had written to Mr Cox to advise him of what she wanted to do, but did not expect him to accept it without a fight. She was right; he did, very courteously, but also lengthily and firmly try to dissuade her from the course of action she was set on, which he finally said in exasperation, his courtesy sliding, was insane.

He was right, it was insane, if you were not in possession of all the facts. As much as Beth liked him, she could not apprise him of them. Finally she had no choice but to override his protests by advising him that it was her money and she could do whatever she wanted with it, and this was what she was set on doing.

Secondly there was the reunion with her friends, which was far more pleasant than the interview with Edward Cox, but not without its own emotional trauma. They had known she was coming. The second letter she had written from London had been to ask them if she could. She had sent it to her old house, and Jane had replied with their new address and a standing invitation.

The house was larger than she had expected and was painted white, with small-paned sash windows and a tiled roof. It boasted three bedrooms, two reception rooms, a decent-sized but overgrown garden which Graeme had already made some headway in taming, and a warm and cosy kitchen, to which Beth was taken by an excited and considerably taller Mary. Graeme was sitting at the table in solitary splendour. He had not changed at all, Beth was gratified to see. He still wore the same homespun breeches and leather waistcoat, and his face was still tanned and seamed from years of work in the open air. Maybe there was a little more grey in his hair, that was all.

He looked up as she came in, and considered her from under bushy eyebrows.

“So,” he said, “are you here just for a visit, or have you spent the present we gave you?”

The six sovereigns were still tied up in a cloth in her bag, but she knew what he was asking.

“I don’t know, yet,” she replied. “Can I stay until I do?”

“If you need me to answer that question before you sit down, no, you can’t,” he said. He stood up, went to the back door, bellowed something incomprehensible across the yard which made her jump, and came back. She had shed her cloak, and was still standing looking round the room. She was sure she would soon feel at home here.

“Ah, lass, it’s good to see you, I’ll not deny it,” Graeme said, taking her hands and bestowing one of his rare smiles on her. She tried not to think of Duncan, who had done just the same thing. And then Thomas and Jane appeared, Mary re-entered from having taken the bag Beth had dropped carelessly in the hall up to what was to be her room, the threatened tears were washed away in a sea of questions and laughter, and she realised that she did feel at home already.

An hour later she had been fed, watered, taken on a whirlwind tour of the house by Jane and Mary, and delivered back to the kitchen, where Thomas opened a precious bottle of brandy.

“Perhaps we should go up to the drawing-room to drink this,” he suggested. “It is a special occasion, after all.”

“You’ll be sitting on your own, if you do,” Graeme said. “It’s bloody freezing in there. I’d rather drink water in the kitchen than perch shivering on the edge of a chair in a fancy salon with my finger in the air, discussing the weather or whatever the hell the aristocracy find interesting.”

“Who’s sleeping with whose husband or wife, mainly,” Beth supplied.

“Well, then, I’m not sleeping with anybody’s husband or wife, so there’s the gossip done with,” Graeme said. “Now, are you going to admire that stuff all night, or drink it, as the good Lord intended?”

They drank it.

“It’s just like home,” Beth said happily after a while. “Although it’s strange not to have Grace sitting by the fire, darning socks.”

“She felt guilty, leaving so soon after the money came through,” Jane said. “But she’s much happier with her family, and we all knew it was only a matter of time before we all left Richard’s anyway. We should have gone earlier than we did, but it was home to us, and we were reluctant to let go, I suppose. Maybe we hoped Richard would change once he got the commission he wanted.”

“Was he really terrible, when he came back?” Beth asked.

“Not at first, no. He was quite reserved. He complained a bit that the house wasn’t warm enough, but he seemed to accept it when I said that we hadn’t kept fires in unused rooms for economy’s sake. It was when his officer friends came to stay that things went wrong.” Jane blushed, and stopped, and Thomas took up the story.

“In fairness to them, they were all polite enough when they were sober. And in the evening, when they’d been drinking, we kept out of their way, and just cleared up the mess in the morning. But then something happened, and we all left the next day,” he finished abruptly.

“So here we all are!” Jane said brightly. She smiled warmly at her husband. Graeme finished his brandy and refilled his glass, topping up Beth’s as well.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “I know I’ve been drinking, but either I’m a lot more drunk than I thought, or you’ve missed something out. What happened to make you all leave so abruptly?”

It was the eleven-year-old Mary who answered. In honour of the occasion, she and Ben had been allowed a small glass of very well-watered brandy. She sipped at it now, and then looked at Beth.

“One of the soldiers tried to get me to do it with him,” she said bluntly. “And when I said I didn’t want to, he pushed me up against the wall and tried to do it anyway.”

“And then I hit him, and knocked him out!” Ben put in proudly. “And then we ran away before anyone else came.”

Beth looked at the skinny figure of the twelve-year-old boy incredulously.

“Ben hit the soldier with the butt of his own musket, which he’d left in the hall. He was very brave,” Thomas said, looking at the boy, who grinned.

“Please tell me it wasn’t Richard,” Beth said. She felt sick.

“It wasn’t Richard,” Graeme answered. “But before you feel relieved about that, when Thomas and I confronted him the next day he told us that as far as he was concerned the girl had asked for it, and he’d a good mind to haul Ben up before the authorities for assault. It was the officer who’d tried it on with Mary who told Richard he’d do no such thing, and apologised for his drunken behaviour. Then we all left. I haven’t seen him since, and I hope I never do,” he finished grimly.

Beth took rather too large a gulp of brandy, then looked at Mary, who was still sipping hers, clearly not enjoying it but determined not to pass up this illicit treat. Her colour was rather higher than normal, but otherwise she seemed unperturbed.

“I’m sorry, Mary,” Beth said inadequately.

“It’s not your fault, Miss,” Mary responded. “I didn’t encourage him, whatever your brother said. I’m not ashamed.”

“Nor should you be, lass. It wasn’t your fault,” said Graeme. “And as for you, Beth, if it hadn’t been for the money you gave us, we’d not be here now. Don’t you ever apologise for him. He’s nothing to do with you any more.”

No, he wasn’t. And he no longer had any hold over her. Or those she loved. Thanks to Alex. Or Sir Anthony. No, she was not going to think of him.

“Are you planning to stay long?” Thomas asked, changing the subject to what he thought was safer territory. “You can stay as long as you like, of course. I just wondered.”

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Beth answered. “I’d intended to visit you anyway, when I got back from Europe. I’ve got some business to do, and I wanted to see you and visit Mary Williamson as well, but I might stay on for a while.” She reached for the bottle again, and Thomas moved it out of reach.

“Slow down a bit, Beth,” he advised. “You’ve certainly got a taste for brandy since you’ve been living in London. Your husband’s been teaching you bad habits.”

“Whisky,” she said without thinking. “It’s usually whisky we drink at home.”

Thomas, Jane and Graeme exchanged surprised glances.

“I must admit, I can’t imagine the purple popinjay knocking back whisky,” Graeme said, amazed. “It’s pretty raw stuff. I’d have thought a fine claret or champagne more his style.”

“Ah. Well,” Beth stuttered. “Em…he’s got a couple of Scottish servants, from Edinburgh, and I think they’ve given him the taste for it. It’s quite nice, when you get used to it. Very warming.”