Book Four – The Storm Breaks
Alex discovers that he is about to be betrayed and he and Beth flee and join the rebels at Edinburgh, where the Jacobites are victorious in the battle of Prestonpans. The Jacobite army then begins its progress southwards, arriving in Manchester, with more people rallying to their call. At Derby, much against the wishes of Alex and many other members of the clans, it is decided that the army should not march on London, but retreat to Scotland to await French reinforcements.
On reaching Manchester, Beth discovers the child Ann, daughter of her servant Martha who was dismissed by Richard on his first arrival home. The child has suffered badly at the hands of her mother’s killer, who Beth suspects is Richard. Alex doubts her suspicions, and Beth is driven to tell him of her brother’s attack on her. Alex is enraged that she has not trusted him and this leads to an estrangement between them. The army continues northward and Beth, convinced that their marriage is over, attempts to leave Alex. She is attacked and in rescuing her, Alex realises what he has nearly lost, and they are reconciled.
They continue northwards, where the Jacobite army eventually meets with Cumberland and the government forces at Culloden, while the women, led by Beth, shelter in a barn. The battle is lost, Duncan is killed and Alex badly wounded. Angus, after getting his brother to safety, goes in search of the women.
Their hideout has been discovered by a group of rampaging soldiers. The sergeant stabs Maggie, Beth kills him and whilst running away is recognised by the Duke of Cumberland, who gives the command not to shoot her, but too late. The remaining women are raped and killed and their bodies burnt with the barn. When Angus arrives he finds Maggie who tells him of Beth’s death, before dying herself. Angus searches for but cannot find Beth’s body, and assumes it has been burnt along with the others.
He returns to Ruthven, where the surviving Jacobites have gathered, determined to fight on. He tells Iain and Alex the bad news. The MacGregors resolve to continue the rebellion and avenge the death of Maggie and Beth.
Book Five – Pursuit of Princes
Once sufficiently healed, Alex, believing Beth to be dead, briefly joins with Lochiel and the Camerons in an attempt to assemble enough clansmen to continue the rising. However, as part of the Duke of Cumberland’s design to destroy the Highlanders’ way of life forever, a large body of British soldiers is sent to the Cameron lands in an attempt to both capture Lochiel and exterminate his entire clan. Lochiel and his men, along with the MacGregors, succeed in escaping, but have to acknowledge that for now at least, the rising is over.
Alex returns home and concentrates all his energy on pursuing his blood oath, along with a select number of clansmen. Together they conduct a variety of raids, including a highly successful infiltration of Fort Augustus in which Alex, posing as an English cattle dealer, succeeds in liberating two thousand cattle confiscated from the now starving clans by the redcoats.
Following this, Alex meets with Prince Charles, who is still in hiding in the Highlands, being sheltered by a number of loyal clanspeople and seeking passage back to France, where he hopes to persuade King Louis to assist in a further expedition. Whilst in his company, Alex learns that John Murray of Broughton, the prince’s former secretary, has been arrested, and has agreed to inform on his former associates in exchange for his life. Realising Broughton knows the true identity of Sir Anthony, the MacGregors go into hiding in case they are betrayed. Beth’s cousin Allan MacDonald joins the MacGregors to fight, and Angus and Morag marry. After five months of hiding in the heather, Prince Charles, along with Lochiel, succeeds in taking ship for France.
After a brief visit home, Sarah returns to London with her baby niece, her sister having died in childbirth. As the baby is illegitimate and has no other relatives, Sarah resolves to bring her up herself.
In the meantime Beth, having been rescued by the Duke of Cumberland, is conveyed to the Tower of London, where she is nursed back to health and lodged in luxurious apartments. Once well, she is interviewed firstly by the Duke of Newcastle and later by Cumberland himself, but refuses to reveal anything about the identity of Sir Anthony Peters. She is sent to the notorious Newgate Prison, in the hopes that a stay in a filthy and overcrowded vermin-ridden cell will encourage her to betray her husband. When this fails to succeed in breaking her resolve, Newcastle sends for Richard, who agrees to interrogate her in an attempt to obtain the information.
Beth has discovered she is pregnant, but following Richard’s brutal interrogation, she miscarries, and Newcastle, realising that nothing will now break her, orders her to be kept in solitary confinement and quietly starved to death.
But the redcoat soldier who was guarding Beth prior to Richard’s brutal attack confides in his brother, who, being a former servant of Lord Edward, recognises the description of Beth and tells Sarah. She enlists the help of Caroline, and with the assistance of Prince Frederick himself, they succeed in locating Beth and liberating her from her cell.
At death’s door, she is conveyed to Caroline’s and through the ministrations of her friends, together with the expertise of Prince Frederick’s physician she recovers, although, convinced that Alex must be dead, she has no real desire to live. She discovers that Richard is attempting to obtain custody of his wife’s son by her first marriage, and that Sarah is also in fear for her life, and is determined to kill him if he visits her. Having no reason to live, but realising that if she takes her own life she will have committed a mortal sin and will therefore never be reunited with her husband in Heaven, she decides to kill two birds with one stone, as it were.
She seeks an interview with the Duke of Newcastle, who agrees, believing she has finally seen sense. At their meeting she denounces Richard as a traitor, stating that he knew Sir Anthony was a spy, but accepted payment to keep quiet. But she refuses to reveal any information about Sir Anthony, and hopes Newcastle will now have her executed.
In the meantime, in the continuation of fulfilling his blood oath, Alex encounters Richard, who is engaged in torturing a woman. Alex badly wounds his brother-in-law, but before Richard dies he tells Alex that Beth is very much alive, and is in Newgate Prison. He reveals gleefully that he beat her so badly that she miscarried their child, and Alex kills him in a rage.
He then resolves to go to London to discover if Beth is, indeed, still alive.
STUART/HANOVER FAMILY TREE
LIST OF CHARACTERS
Alexander MacGregor, Highland Chieftain
Angus MacGregor, brother to Alex
Morag MacGregor, wife to Angus
Iain Gordon, liegeman to Alex
Alasdair MacGregor, clansman to Alex
Peigi MacGregor, wife to Alasdair
Jamie MacGregor, their child
Kenneth MacGregor, clansman to Alex
Janet MacGregor, clanswoman to Alex
Dougal MacGregor, clansman to Alex
Lachlan MacGregor, a child
Allan MacDonald, Beth’s cousin
Prince Charles Edward Stuart, eldest son of James Stuart (the Pretender), exiled King of Great Britain
Donald Cameron of Lochiel, Chief of Clan Cameron
Lydia Fortesque, a young lady
Edwin Harlow, MP
Caroline Harlow, wife to Edwin
Freddie Harlow, their son
Toby, their manservant
Graeme Elliot, Jacobite soldier
Thomas Fletcher, former steward to Beth MacGregor
Jane Fletcher, his wife
Ann, their adopted daughter.
Mary Swale, former maid to Beth
Ben, former servant to Beth
Sarah Browne, a businesswoman
Mary Browne, her infant niece
Gabriel Foley, a smuggler
Colonel Mark Hutchinson, a dragoon
Bernard, his batman.
Sergeant Stephen Baker, a redcoat soldier
Beth MacGregor, wife to Alex
Captain John Ricky, a sea captain
Mr Johnson, Firs
t Mate
Sam, a sailor
Captain Paul Marsal, a privateer
Elizabeth Clavering, Alexander Low, Effie Cameron, Barbara Campbell, John Ostler, James McPherson, Flora Cameron, Jane McIntosh, Anne Cameron, John Mackenzie, Daniel McGillis, Donald McDonald, John Grant – all Jacobite prisoners.
Charles de Tubières, Marquis de Caylus
Pierre Delisle, a plantation owner
Antoinette Delisle, his wife
Andre Giroux, their friend
Francis Armstrong, an overseer
Raymond, Rosalie, Eulalie, Ezra, slaves
PROLOGUE
April 30th 1747
Prince Charles Edward Stuart had been sitting in the dining room of his brother’s house for over an hour, and he was starting to become annoyed. The table was sumptuously laid for two, the damask tablecloth spotless, the light from the many expensive beeswax candles reflecting off the silver cutlery and crystal glassware. A cheery fire burned in the hearth. The room contained everything necessary for a perfect royal supper. Except for one of the royals.
Really, it was just too inconsiderate of Henry to keep him waiting like this. If he had known he was going to be delayed, he could have sent a message advising his brother as to why.
The fact that he had not sent a message stopped Charles from growing too angry at this point. Clearly something unexpected had happened to delay him. Perhaps his horse had cast a shoe, or his carriage lost a wheel – there could be any number of explanations for his tardiness.
Charles had quizzed the servants, who told him that that their orders had been to make everything ready for supper at eight. Prince Henry had gone out a few hours previously, but had been expected back in time for supper, which was ready. Perhaps His Highness would like to eat now? Certainly the master would not object if he did, as the food was in danger of spoiling otherwise.
Charles declined, and said that he would wait in the library for his brother’s return, which must certainly be soon. Accordingly a fire was laid, candles lit and a decanter of wine brought, and Charles made himself at home.
Although it was spring the evenings were still chilly, and he was grateful for the warmth of the fire. He stood and perused the bookshelves for a few minutes, looking for a volume that would divert him from his mingled irritation and worry as to the whereabouts of his younger brother; but Henry’s tastes were very different to his. Charles perused the titles: La Beaute de Carmel; Synesii Cyrenaei Episcopi Epistolae; Commentaria in Sex Posteriores Prophetas Minores.
Having no desire to read a dull religious tome or a ponderous volume in Latin or Greek, he threw himself into a chair by the fire and started to make inroads into the wine.
Henry’s taste in books reflected everything that was lacking in him. If, instead of learning the history of prophets no one had ever heard of and the excruciatingly boring lives of Carmelite monks, Henry had spent his time studying military history and tactics and in improving his lacklustre personality, he would perhaps have been useful for once in his life, and would have kept the pressure on the French court while he, Charles, was winning victory after victory as he drew ever closer to London.
If he had, their father would probably now be sitting on the throne in St James’s instead of languishing in Rome, and would have better things to do with his time than to spend it penning long-winded letters admonishing his eldest son to tread more carefully with King Louis, not to do anything contrary to court rules, and above all always to be diplomatic.
Diplomatic! Charles uttered an expletive that no doubt would have turned his pious, sensitive brother Henry white with shock. He had spent three years tiptoeing round the wily French king, flattering him, toadying to him, although it had galled him to do so. And where had it got him? Nowhere! For that matter, where had thirty years of his father’s diplomacy got the Stuart cause? Nowhere!
And yet he, Charles, recognising that the Stuarts would all die of old age if they waited for Louis to help them, had taken action; and that action had almost succeeded in wresting the crown from that German upstart George.
If instead of kneeling in damp musty churches praying for victory morning, noon and night, Henry had persuaded Richelieu to launch the French fleet he had been preparing in December of ‘45, Lord George Murray and the rest of the council could not have insisted they turn back at Derby, and he would be in London now, the Prince of Wales, heir to the throne of Great Britain and darling of his people, instead of in a poky house in Paris waiting for his useless brother.
As for his loyal followers, the clansmen…oh God, no. He could not think of what they were enduring now, or he would go mad. He drained his glass and refilled it, staring gloomily into the flames.
Henry had wanted to go to Spain to try and gain support for an invasion of England, but Charles could not have allowed that. True, his own mission, conducted in the greatest secrecy in February, had not gone according to plan, but even so he had made a good impression, he knew that. Lochiel, knowing nothing of Charles’ true intentions, thinking he was only going as far as Avignon and that only to spite Louis, had begged him not to anger the French king, and instead to accept Louis’ offer of a small expedition to Scotland.
That was understandable; Lochiel was desperate to return to his beleaguered Camerons and take revenge on Cumberland. He, along with most of the other Scottish Jacobites, thought that if Charles could take the Scottish throne for his father, they could break the hated Union and have two separate kingdoms, as they had before Queen Elizabeth had died childless in 1603.
Charles knew he could not go back to Scotland. He told everyone, including himself, that George and his vicious son would never accept the Stuarts ruling in Scotland alone; the only way forward was to topple George from his throne and drive the Hanoverians out of Britain altogether, as they had driven his grandfather out nearly sixty years ago. There was truth in that, but there was also…no. He could not think of that now.
He pulled his gaze away from the fire and looked at the clock. Ten. Two hours overdue. Surely even if Henry’s carriage had lost a wheel he could have sent a servant back at the gallop to advise the household? A growing anger mingled with his worry. Even so, Charles decided to wait a little longer. Perhaps even now Henry was waiting for the wheel to be replaced, the horse to be shod.
The mission to Spain. Yes, that had not gone as well as he had hoped. The king and queen of Spain had wished him well, had uttered a lot of fatuous compliments and assurances of friendship, and then had effectively told him to leave. Nevertheless, although he had not received the regiments and military assistance to invade England that he had hoped for, the Spanish chief minister Carjaval had at least agreed to send arms and three shiploads of much-needed food to the starving Highlanders. That had not been done yet, but Charles consoled himself with the fact that he had still achieved more than his pathetic brother would have done.
Why James kept singing Henry’s praises whilst criticising him, Charles had no idea. From the moment he could understand language, his father had drummed into him that he was the hope for the Stuart cause: the restoration of the Stuarts to the throne of Great Britain rested on his shoulders.
When he was five his father had commissioned a full-length portrait of him to be painted, with his hand pointing to a plume of Prince of Wales feathers. A naturally active child, Charles had hated having to stand still for hours. He could still remember the uncomfortable scratchy court costume, the continuous requests for him to stay still. It had been hell, but even at that age he had understood the significance of the plume of feathers he was pointing at, and of the painting, which had been engraved so it could be distributed to his followers; he was the hope of the House of Stuart, it was his destiny and his alone to put his father back in his rightful place.
He owed it not only to his father, but to all his loyal followers, especially the Highlanders, who over the last fifty years had risen time and time again in support of the Stuarts, first for his grandfather, then his father, and,
almost two years ago now, for him, the Prince Regent. It was a sign of their steadfastness and their desperation to see the Hanoverians overthrown, that even after thirty years of Hanoverian rule thousands of them had still been willing to risk everything to help him restore the rightful monarch to the throne, one who truly cared about his people and would rule wisely and well, instead of disappearing to Hanover every five minutes and bleeding Britain dry to safeguard his petty German electorate as the current usurper was doing.
Charles had spent his whole life to date training for, and striving to achieve that. No one could accuse him of complacency, or of doing anything other than his utmost to fulfil that destiny. In spite of the lack of gratitude from his father, and the lack of assistance from his brother, he would continue to fight with every means at his disposal to achieve the restoration of his family. What else was there for him to do? He knew nothing else.
For a moment, just one fleeting moment, a vision of a dark and hopeless future opened in front of him. He closed his eyes tightly, then the rage and despair rose in him and he gave a strangled cry, before throwing his glass to the back of the fire.
The sound of it shattering into a million tiny crystal fragments brought a servant, unbidden.
“Your Highness.” He bowed deeply. “Can I be of any assistance?”
Charles looked at the clock. Nearly midnight. Had he really been sitting here for over two hours, brooding and staring into nothingness? He yawned, suddenly utterly weary.
Tides of Fortune (Jacobite Chronicles Book 6) Page 2