The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3)

by Julia Brannan

  “Yes,” said Beth, who was starting to get the hang of Philippa’s staccato speech and thought patterns.

  “Damn good idea of Helen’s, bringing a change. She won’t be pleased, though. You especially, very beautiful. Competition.”

  Beth grinned.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  As soon as the batting started Beth knew that Philippa was right. Her husband, as she’d expected was an excellent player, as was Prince Frederick. David and Percy were more interested in keeping their clothes in pristine condition, and consequently ensured that they were out almost immediately. Beth, who was positioned reasonably close to the batters, caught Percy out herself, and also caught his look of relief.

  After that she found there was no need to concentrate on the batting. The ball sailed repeatedly over her head as Anthony, Daniel and Frederick scored rounder after rounder, and she started to think about the letter Murray had sent and its implications, her body half-turned to the back of the field, from where the ball would be thrown to her after one of the distant fielders had retrieved it.

  Therefore it came as a complete shock when the solid ball hit her in the thigh with enough force to send her stumbling sideways. She bent down to pick up the ball, which had come to a halt at her feet, and looked across to where Daniel was standing, still holding the bat. He had made no attempt to run and was smiling at her. In spite of the protective layers of clothing, the ball had hit her with enough force to bruise.

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” he said, looking anything but. “I didn’t mean to hit you. I expected you to catch me out. I would have thought a woman with your background would have had extensive experience in handling balls.”

  He did it deliberately, she thought, instantly annoyed. I’m sure of it. She glanced at her husband, who had been sitting down, but now rose to his feet. Then she looked down at the ball in her hand and smiled.

  “I do have some little experience,” she said, focussing pointedly on his crotch, “but I am not accustomed to handling such very small ones.” She threw the ball to the bowler and watched with satisfaction as Percy laughed and Daniel reddened slightly. “You should make sure your equipment is clean, my lord,” she added, wiping her muddy hands on her skirt. “One can pick up such nasty diseases if one does not take good care of it.”

  “I would have thought that to be something Sir Anthony would be more concerned about, considering where he puts his equipment,” Daniel said.

  Beth felt her temper rise, and swallowed it down with an effort. Everyone was watching the altercation with interest, and the only ones who were unaware of the innuendoes were the children.

  “Oh no, my dear boy, you are mistaken,” said Sir Anthony, smiling innocently. “I do not play rounders or any other game of that sort at home. My grounds are not large enough. I possess no balls at all.”

  Several people laughed out loud at this, and Sir Anthony smiled around the group in a slightly perplexed way, clearly uncertain as to what he had said that was so humorous.

  But it had worked, Beth thought as everyone walked back to the house a short time later. He had defused the situation, making it impossible for Daniel to continue his attack without becoming belligerent about it.

  “He’s up to something,” said Alex as soon as they were alone in the changing room.

  “Don’t you think he’s just being rude, like he was in Edinburgh?” Beth asked.

  Alex thought for a moment while he pulled up his clean ivory silk stockings, gartering them neatly above the knee.

  “Maybe. Did he hurt you?”

  “Just a bit. My skirts saved me from being injured. It might bruise a little. I’m angry rather than hurt, though.”

  “He’s not worth your anger. He’s a fool, that’s all. I doubt he’ll ever learn. William should have let him rot in the Fleet for a year or two instead of paying his debts off this last time. The young idiot wasn’t even grateful, just went straight back out and carried on gambling.”

  “Why doesn’t the earl disinherit him?” Beth asked.

  “He can’t. The estate’s entailed. And he wouldn’t anyway. William loves his son. He’s always spoilt him and protected him, which is a good part of the problem.”

  “Prince Edward said Daniel was going to hurt me, about half an hour before he did,” Beth said, suddenly remembering. “You said he was odd. He is, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. I think it was Walpole, Horace that is, not Robert, who said Edward is a ‘sayer of things’. He can be really amusing at times, because he’s very astute, or embarrassing if you’re the person he happens to comment on.”

  “It’s more than that, though,” said Beth.

  “Yes, it is. He’s got the sight, I think. I keep expecting him to point at me and say ‘that man’s a spy!’ or something of the sort. No one would pay any heed to him if he did though, thank God. You look beautiful in that dress,” he finished, appreciatively eyeing the royal blue taffeta gown she had changed into. He stood up to help her fasten the tiny hooks and eyes running up the back, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder as he did.

  “I can’t say the same for you, unfortunately,” she said, looking at the violent purple silk breeches and emerald green waistcoat with disgust. “But you are the epitome of Sir Anthony. Your patch has fallen off,” she added with relief.

  “Ah,” he replied, immediately delving in his pocket and producing an identical little silk cat, to her dismay. “Thank you, my dear. Now, I am sure there must be some gum arabic somewhere…”

  During dinner Lord Daniel sat with David at the other end of the table from the Peters, and the meal went very well, although Beth was unable to enjoy herself fully, as she kept expecting further insults to be hurled down the table. The two men were whispering together and every so often would glance in her direction. It was very childish, but it made her feel edgy and irritable. The food was plentiful, with venison in a rich sauce, mutton pasties, oysters and salamangundy, a highly colourful and varied salad, and the conversation was animated. The earlier game was thoroughly dissected, the clothes of the various guests complimented, and the latest staging of King Lear by Garrick commented upon.

  It was refreshing to see Sir Anthony given a run for his money in the fashion stakes, thought Beth as the party removed to the card room. Percy and David, resplendent in crimson and gold respectively, had applauded the baronet’s unique patches, which would shortly result in more profit for Sarah.

  Beth, who did not want to play cards, went instead to sit in a corner, where a small group of non-players had gathered to chat. After a few minutes Sir Anthony joined her.

  “Not playing, Anthony?” said Philippa. “Not like you.”

  “I am not in the mood, my dear,” he said, flopping down limply next to his wife. “And they are playing loo. I really have no desire to lose my entire estate in one evening.”

  “Papa is playing,” said Philippa. Sir Anthony smiled.

  “Your papa is as rich as Croesus, he can afford to lose a fortune without blinking,” he said. He stretched his purple legs out in front of him and admired the sparkling diamante buckles on his shoes. “Besides, I really feel quite fatigued.”

  “Shouldn’t have played so well this afternoon then, should you,” grumbled Philippa. “Would have won but for you.”

  “There’s a spare seat here for you, Anthony,” called Percy. Sir Anthony glanced round. David, Percy and Lord Daniel were seated at a nearby table. Percy beckoned to the remaining empty chair.

  “No, no, but thank you,” he said. “I will decline tonight. Loo is not my game.”

  “Oh, come on, Anthony, surely you are not afraid to play?” said Daniel mockingly.

  “Indeed I am,” said the baronet. “The stakes are too high. Why, in mere minutes I could lose the cost of the new coat I have ordered from my tailor! It is exquisite, scarlet figured silk,” he said, turning back to his conversational companions. “Every button has a diamond in the centre! And to match it I am having the most delightfu
l…”

  “Will you play whist instead, then?” called Daniel.

  “No, do not change your game on my account, dear boy. I am quite decided not to play this evening.”

  “And I am quite decided you will, sir,” said Daniel firmly. “Choose your game. I can’t say fairer than that.”

  Sir Anthony straightened in his seat and turned round to face the young man.

  “You are most persistent,” he said amiably. “But I will not play cards with you, my lord, not tonight or any other night. I wish you luck with your game.”

  “Why are you refusing to play with me specifically?” persisted Daniel. “Is my money not good enough for you?”

  The baronet’s expression remained good-humoured, his eyes friendly. Only Beth, who knew him so well, felt the slight tension quivering through his body, matching her own.

  “Indeed, if you were in possession of any money of your own, it would certainly be good enough for me, my lord,” he replied. “But your father is my friend and I will not render him any more impecunious than you have already done, by playing cards with you tonight.”

  Daniel leapt to his feet at once, his face flushed, a curiously triumphant look in his eye.

  “By God, sir, how dare you insult me so!” he cried. “I demand satisfaction!”

  “Anthony’s only spoken the truth, you fool,” said Philippa bluntly. “Common knowledge. No money of your own, have you? Normal for heirs. Hardly an insult.”

  “Nevertheless,” said the lord. “I repeat, Sir Anthony, I demand satisfaction!”

  “Really, this is most tiresome,” said the baronet wearily. “I have already told you I do not wish to play. I am sure Lady Philippa will play. She should satisfy you; she is an excellent player, and quite ruthless.”

  “It is not cards of which I speak, sir, as you well know!”

  “No? Ah. I see. You seek satisfaction of a more…ah…carnal nature. Well, I can recommend an excellent establishment not far from here. My footman spent an exhausting night there quite recently. He could not recommend the ladies highly enough and he is a most virile young man.” The baronet winked knowingly and grotesquely at the company, eliciting a chorus of laughter.

  “If I wished to seek the services of a whore, Sir Anthony, I need look no further than the woman by your side,” Lord Daniel said coldly as soon as the laughter had diminished. “I see I must put it plainly. I challenge you, sir. Name your weapon.”

  Beth had stiffened and made to rise, but her husband’s hand closed firmly around her arm, pulling her back down into her seat.

  “I see I must also put it plainly, Daniel,” Sir Anthony said into the sudden silence that had fallen over the corner of the room, and which was slowly spreading as others realised something was amiss. “I will not gamble with you, as I hold your father in too much esteem to bankrupt him, even if you do not. On the same basis I will not duel with you, as I will not leave your father without an heir, worthless as that heir may be.”

  “My God!” cried Daniel. “When you said you possessed no balls earlier, I thought you were joking! Now I see it is true. You are a coward!”

  Everyone looked at Sir Anthony. He could not refuse now. No gentleman could allow himself to be publicly called a coward without retaliating.

  “Why are you so determined to fight a duel with me?” asked the baronet. “You have deliberately tried to provoke me, when I wished only to relax in the corner and enjoy some light conversation. I will not play your game. Seek your death elsewhere, if you must. I will not oblige you.”

  “Anthony,” whispered James urgently. “You cannot let this go. He has called you a coward! You must answer!”

  “I have answered,” he replied. Beth was trembling, but displayed no signs of imminent retaliation. Her husband let go of her arm. “I will say no more on the matter.”

  “You may not, but I will!” persisted Daniel hotly. “I say you are a coward, and a fool too. You have been emasculated by your peasant of a wife.”

  David was laughing, but Percy had paled.

  “For God’s sake, Daniel, you have gone too far. Leave it!” he urged.

  “I will not,” said the lord. “The rest of you may find it acceptable that the daughter of a disgraced lord’s son and a common Scotch prostitute could so bewitch a baronet with her sexual ploys as to persuade him to marry her, but I find it appalling that we should have to endure the company of a gutter whore as though she were our equal.”

  “You will apologise to the lady, immediately,” said a commanding voice. Daniel turned to see the diminutive but irate form of the Prince of Wales standing directly behind him.

  “With all due respect, Your Highness, I will not,” said Daniel recklessly. “I speak only the truth. It’s common knowledge that she’s the daughter of a whore. Even her husband agrees! He must, else why would he refuse to defend her?”

  Beth had turned round in her seat to face Daniel’s mocking face, her mouth twisted with rage. Sir Anthony smiled resignedly.

  “Oh my dear boy, I see you are determined to…”

  There was a flash of movement by the baronet’s side, and Daniel cried out suddenly, taking a step backwards and clutching at his shoulder.

  “I don’t need my husband to defend me, my lord,” Beth said, standing now, her fists clenched by her sides, her eyes sparking blue fire in the pallor of her face. “I am quite capable of defending myself. You say it is common knowledge that my mother was a whore. I say it is common knowledge that you are a wastrel and a fool, who demeans yourself by slandering me because you have never forgiven me for rejecting you when you begged me on your knees to marry you. And you have never forgiven my husband, who is worth a hundred of you, for rescuing me when you abducted me and tried to marry me against my will.”

  She glanced around at the sea of shocked faces, and then back at her enemy. The silence in the room was profound. Daniel still clutched at his shoulder. His face was as white as Beth’s, his brown eyes wide with shock and pain.

  “You dare to call my husband coward, sir,” she said, her voice thick with contempt. “You, who showed what a true and brave gentleman you are by threatening to sever my fingers one by one until I agreed to marry you. You disgrace the name of Highbury, and the aristocracy you belong to.”

  She turned to the prince, and curtsied briefly.

  “You will excuse me if I take my leave, Your Highness. I will wait for you in the coach, Anthony.”

  She bent down, picked up her reticule from the chair and then walked out of the room, head high, looking neither to right nor left, the soft rustling of her gown clearly audible in the silence. The door closed quietly behind her.

  “Bloody hell!” breathed Philippa in awe. “That was magnificent!”

  Daniel sat down suddenly. David moved round to his side.

  “I would not remove the knife from his shoulder until you have something with which to staunch the blood,” suggested the baronet calmly. “It will probably be terribly messy otherwise. I don’t think His Highness will appreciate it if you bleed all over his aubusson carpet.”

  “Indeed I will not,” said the prince coldly. “In fact the only thing I will appreciate, once your wound is tended, Lord Daniel, is that you leave my house immediately and do not return.”

  A servant appeared, carrying a bowl of water and a cloth. Carefully he cut away the sleeve of Daniel’s coat and shirt, which were already soaked with blood.

  “Such a pity my wife chose that moment to interrupt, when I was about to tell you that you had convinced me of the need to accept your challenge after all. If, once your wound has healed of course, you are still determined to duel with me, I shall oblige you, providing it is only to first blood and not to the death.”

  “I will gladly act as your second, Sir Anthony,” offered Prince Frederick.

  Sir Anthony had not thought it possible for Daniel to blanch any more, but he did at this news, and so did David. Interesting.

  “Unless, of course, you wish to
concede first blood to my wife and end the matter there,” continued the baronet. “I will leave it up to you. Now, with your permission, Your Highness, I will also take my leave.”

  At the door he stopped, and turned round.

  “Ah, may I request the return of the knife, my lord, if you have finished with it? I believe it holds some sentimental value for my wife.”

  “I’m not going to apologise,” Beth said, the moment he climbed into the carriage.

  “No more do I expect you to,” said her husband, handing her the knife. “It will need cleaning. You behaved admirably, my dear. I’m proud of you. Now, I need to think. Please, let us take the time to calm ourselves a little and wait until we get home before we discuss this any further.”

  At home, they went straight upstairs to change.

  “Aren’t you angry with me at all?” Beth asked, eyeing him warily as he took off his wig and coat and sat down at the dressing table to remove his paint.

  “No,” said Alex. “He goaded us beyond endurance. I couldna expect you to put up wi’ it, although I’d hoped ye would. Ye were lucky, though. If ye’d missed ye’d hae killed him, or worse, hit the prince. Did ye no’ realise he was standing right next to Daniel when you threw the knife?”

  “Of course I did,” she said. “Luck had nothing to do with it. I wanted to hurt him, and I knew you didn’t want to fight him, for some reason. I realised that if I hit him in the right shoulder I’d have my revenge for his insults and also stop him duelling for a few weeks until it heals.”

  Alex stopped wiping his makeup off and looked at her.

  “Are ye telling me you aimed exactly for that spot on his shoulder?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’d rather have gone for the heart, mind you, but I wouldn’t want the earl to be childless either. I really like him. Why are you surprised? You know I can use a knife.” She paused in her undressing to look at him. His eyes were sparkling.