The Jacobite Murders

by G. M. Best

  ‘Then I suggest you use the opportunity to mix with all those who attend. See if you can pick up any clues as to what Lord Kearsley might have been doing.’

  ‘May I go too?’ asked Lady Overbury. ‘I can listen to what the ladies are saying. Their tongues are often looser than those of their husbands and brothers.’

  Beau Nash hesitated and then agreed. ‘Use my name and you will be welcomed when you arrive.’

  5

  A VISIT TO PRIOR PARK

  Lady Overbury had scarcely time to dress herself in her finest clothes before Henry Fielding arrived outside the house later that day in a small carriage. On their way to the mansion they travelled along Stall Street which was the main thoroughfare leading to what had once been the city’s south gate. This area of the city was far less attractive and contained a mass of tall houses packed tightly together. From their style they appeared to date back mostly to the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries when large areas of medieval Bath had been rebuilt. Many had shops at ground floor level but these obviously catered for the city’s residents and lacked any of the glamour offered by the shops that Lady Overbury had seen on her visit to the abbey the previous day. There was no trace left of the ancient south gate because it had been destroyed during the Civil War, but beyond where it had once stood lay the less congested Horse Street. This took them to a crumbling medieval bridge in the centre of which stood an ancient chapel dedicated to St Lawrence. Having crossed this, they turned to the left and a village called Widcombe. Along the way she could see the wagon road that conducted the stone from Ralph Allen’s quarries on Combe Down to the wharf at Bath.

  The carriage soon came to some new terraced houses. Fielding informed her that Allen had built them to attract skilled masons from Yorkshire and carpenters, joiners, and plasterers from London. The wisdom of such a move was evident when, having ridden up a very steep hill, she caught her first glimpse of his mansion standing on a terrace high up in the wooded combe above Bath. Not only was the house itself very grand with its central pedimented portico supported by Corinthian columns, but also on either side were two symmetrical semi-circular wings to provide offices, stabling, and other facilities. This gave it a vast imposing façade.

  The carriage drew up under a pavilion that had been erected on the west side of the mansion and Lady Overbury saw Ralph Allen for the first time. He was greeting his guests as they arrived. He did not cut a grand figure because he was rather heavily built and only of middle height and he was dressed in very unfashionable clothes made from simple materials. His plain coat of dark broadcloth appeared almost worthy of a Quaker. His face was equally unprepossessing. His eyes were unattractively small, his nose rather fox-like, and his mouth thin-lipped. However, Lady Overbury was predisposed to like him when she saw how warmly he greeted Henry Fielding and how courteously he received her. There was an unexpected natural dignity in his manner and he exuded a rare serenity. By his side was his wife, who was no fashionable beauty but quite reserved, short in height and rather plain. Fielding later whispered to Lady Overbury that Allen’s first wife had been a daughter of General Wade and a more fashionable and formidable person. Allen had only been married to his second wife for a couple of years but her pleasant, kind nature had made him very happy.

  The mansion unfolded its pleasures to its visitors literally step by step as they entered it. Lady Overbury particularly admired the well-framed panels that had been created to display paintings in the central hall and the nearby chapel with its rounded apse and its second floor gallery. To the left of the central hall was a gracious dining room, which had the most intricate and elaborate stonework. Beyond this was the drawing room and a great staircase that led to a spectacular long gallery on the second floor, as well as to bedrooms. Henry Fielding told Lady Overbury that the architect John Wood had given the servants’ rooms at the top of the mansion breathtaking views by breaking the entablature with little windows.

  As they walked around the building Lady Overbury kept overhearing snippets of conversation. One young man was holding forth to a friend about his disappointment at seeing so many elderly women everywhere. ‘I never saw so many ugly faces as here in Bath,’ she heard him say, ‘I think most of the ladies look worse because of the pains they have taken to adorn themselves. I have seen ladies without teeth, ladies without eyes, ladies without shape, and ladies with a foot and a half in the grave, all still aping youth and dressing themselves as if they were forty years younger.’ ‘Don’t worry,’ said his friend, ‘there are some beauties around.’ Most of the talk among the women was either about the latest fashions and gossip, or about rheumatism in the shoulder, sciatica in the hip, or gout in the toe and Lady Overbury quickly grew tired of it. Far more interesting was the talk of Ralph Allen and others about the threat of a Jacobite invasion from Scotland. She hoped that she might hear something that might provide a lead into why Lord Kearsley had come to Bath.

  ‘I think it is very unfortunate that those who are honest and loyal in Scotland should have their persons exposed to the most horrid insults and their fortunes subjected to the depredations of these rebels,’ voiced a man with a large bulbous nose and popped eyes.

  ‘I agree, sir,’ said his companion. ‘These savage inhabitants of moors and mountains who support the Pretender are no more than outlaws, robbers and cutthroats, who live in a constant state of lawlessness.’

  ‘The Highlanders have joined him in their thousands not because they have any attachment to the Stuart cause but because their chiefs have called them out,’ contributed Ralph Allen. ‘A chief’s declaration of war is binding on all the clan and, if any man objects, he is ruthlessly punished. The Scottish chiefs view the Act of Union as a betrayal. They never wanted a union between Scotland and England and so dress their grievances in the livery of the prince. They see supporting him as a way of restoring their ancient rights and winning wealth and power.’

  ‘Aye, these Jacobites cloak ambition, avarice, revenge, malice, envy, and every bad passion under the guise of patriotism,’ uttered the man with the bulbous nose, ‘and they count on obtaining the support of the Papists in this country.’

  ‘Do not condemn all Catholics, sir!’ voiced an elderly man. ‘Most of them in this kingdom will not be persuaded by their priests to participate in what is happening.’ This evoked a storm of disbelief, but the man stood his ground. ‘They will not wish to see their religion forced on this country by a banditti of robbers and cut-throats.’

  ‘I wish I had your faith in them, sir,’ replied the man with the bulbous nose. ‘For my part, I think they are only biding their time. Sooner or later we will hear how the Catholics are seeking our destruction. Today’s Guy Fawkes’ celebrations remind us of an earlier wicked papist plot to blow up Parliament and of the need for constant vigilance against all of the Roman faith. We must never forget that they give their allegiance to a foreign power. The cause of King George is the cause of liberty!’

  This statement produced a round of patriotic comments and Lady Overbury moved on to where another group were discussing the rebellion.

  ‘We would be foolish to treat these rebels with contempt,’ said a pale-faced man with large red lips and a pointed nose. ‘They may be bandits but they are well armed and bold. It is said they number close to six thousand troops.’

  ‘But I hear that the army of General Wade at Newcastle is about eleven thousand strong and other troops are now being formed to deal with the menace,’ replied the man standing next to him. ‘I am reliably informed that the troops which are to march to the borders of Lancashire under General Ligonier will consist of seven regiments of foot and that these will be accompanied by nine troops of cavalry with the Duke of Richmond serving as lieutenant general.’

  ‘Even where our forces smaller, I would be confident of victory if the Pretender invades,’ remarked the man opposite him. ‘Our cause is just and our desire for liberty and the true faith add weight to our courage.’

  Deciding that
none of this talk of war was going to give her any insight into what Lord Kearsley had been doing, Lady Overbury opted to take some fresh air outside. The poet Alexander Pope had lent Ralph Allen a fine gardener called John Serle to enhance the site’s natural beauty not only by creating a great lawn and engaging in an extensive tree-planting programme but also by creating water cascades. Though the landscaping was not yet finished, Lady Overbury thought the view down to Bath was enchanting and she happily sat down on a seat in an arbour to gaze upon it. She fully understood why the architect had encouraged Ralph Allen to build his mansion on one of the natural terraces surrounding the city.

  Scarcely had she been there for a few moments when she saw two women walking in the nearby avenue of newly planted trees. One was a very young woman with an air of innocence and vulnerability. Her long neck and luxuriant black hair set off a face worthy of an angel – a fine forehead, a well-shaped nose, lily-white oval cheeks, and a rich-lipped mouth with beautiful ivory teeth. Her black eyes had a lustre that captivated the onlooker. Her shape was not only exactly proportioned but also extremely delicate and, whenever she spoke, her hands fluttered with every nuance and expression. She bore herself with that natural gentility that stems from having received a good upbringing, but there was an air of misery in her manner. Whatever problems she faced, Lady Overbury doubted not that her character was as sweet as her appearance. The older woman was much taller – almost six feet in height – and a far more dominating figure. By her dress and deportment it was obvious that she was used to moving in the highest social circles. However, there was a harsh look to her eyes and many of the wrinkles on her face were a product of a tendency to grimace and scowl at anyone who incurred her displeasure.

  Unbeknown to Lady Overbury she was looking on Miss Sophia Westbrook, the young woman who had so captured Tom Jones’s heart, and her aunt, the formidable Lady Crowthorpe. The latter was the perfect mistress of all high society’s manners, customs, ceremonies, and fashions, and, although she had never in her life flirted with a man, she knew how to instantly recognize that activity in others. She noticed at once when a lady sought to give encouragement or conceal liking. No species of affectation or disguise escaped her attention. As a consequence she was under no illusion about her niece. She knew that, whatever Sophia might be saying to the contrary, she was hopelessly in love with Tom Jones. This distressed her greatly and the scowls she directed in Sophia’s direction bore testimony to that. She was determined to squash her niece’s unwelcome passion.

  Unaware of Lady Overbury’s presence, the two women began talking freely with each other and the first sentences of their conversation immediately betrayed who they were to the hidden listener. ‘My father wishes me to marry Mr Burnett,’ said the younger of the two in a voice that was soft and cultured. ‘He has told me that he has proposed the match to Squire Woodforde and that they will be seeing Mr Burnett shortly. Dearest Aunt, can you not prevent this? I know Mr Burnett is heir to a great estate but the man is such a sanctimonious bore!’

  ‘I will not be lied to or thought a fool. What you mean by that, Sophia, is that he is not as attractive to you as Mr Jones. Is it possible that you are still thinking of disgracing this family by seeking to ally yourself to a bastard? Can the blood of the Westbrooks submit to such contamination? Your pride in our family should have prevented you from giving the slightest encouragement to so base an affection! Mr Burnett is a far better match for you.’

  ‘Mr Burnett is not agreeable to me and I hope that you and my father will not make me the most wretched person by insisting that I marry him against my inclinations.’

  ‘Inclinations! How can a young unmarried woman talk of inclinations when we are resolved that you will marry him and nothing that you can say or do can prevent it? Indeed, if your father has his way, there will not be a moment’s delay in announcing the engagement and fixing the day for the wedding.’

  ‘Surely you will give me time to get used to the idea and to overcome my current disinclination to this person,’ pleaded her niece with a note of increasing emotional intensity in her voice.

  Lady Crowthorpe’s scowl deepened. ‘Why should we give you time? You have already shown that you are a foolish young woman by entertaining an unworthy alliance with an amorous coxcomb. Young girls never know what their best interests are and you are as wild and wanton as a colt on a common. I put the blame for your monstrous infatuation entirely on Squire Woodforde for breeding up a bastard to be like a gentleman. When a princess of France is married to a prince of Spain the arrangement is a match not between two persons but between two kingdoms. This is a match between the Woodfordes and the Westbrooks and that is what matters.’

  ‘Can you be so unmoved? Will you kill me by condemning me to a loveless marriage?’

  ‘Pooh! What nonsense! Kill you indeed! Marriage will not kill you.’

  ‘Such a marriage is worse than death,’ wailed her niece. ‘It will make me become a burden to my friends and a torment to myself. It is not that I am indifferent to Mr Burnett. I hate him.’

  The corners of Lady Crowthorpe’s mouth pulled down as she clenched her teeth with rage. ‘Spare me such commonplace cant!’ she stormed. ‘It is impossible for you to hate a man from whom you have received no injury. I am as resolved as your father on this match. He will rightly cut you off from the family without a penny if you persist in this nonsense. Believe me, child, I know about these things and you should obey your father. Romance is not fashionable. This city is full of wives who dislike their husbands and who lead very comfortable and genteel lives.’ Her eyes flashed angrily at Sophia. ‘Let me hear no more about your foolish feelings. Think only of what matters to your family.’

  Her niece refused to be cowed. ‘I hope that I shall never do anything to dishonour my family but my family’s opinion on this matter cannot make me love Mr Burnett. Marrying him would be like turning vice into a virtue. Whatever the consequences, I am resolved against him and no force or threat can prevail in his favour.’

  Lady Crowthorpe inhaled sharply. ‘Impertinent hussy! I think you will find that you will have to do as we say. And there’s no point pining for Mr Jones. He’s headed for the colonies and I expect he’ll be dead within a few months of his arrival there.’

  This stark image plunged Sophia into floods of tears. Unfortunately this only served to further enrage her aunt. ‘I’ll hear no more of this. I am going back indoors. Rejoin me when you have composed yourself. Remember for once that you are a Westbrook!’

  Lady Crowthorpe marched away. As soon as she was sure that the aunt was out of hearing, Lady Overbury emerged from the arbour in which she had been concealed and went to comfort the poor sobbing girl. Sophia Westbrook’s embarrassment soon gave way to excitement when she discovered that Lady Overbury knew Tom Jones and had a high regard for him. It proved an easy task for the older woman to persuade the younger one to sit in the arbour with her and exchange stories about him. Lady Overbury told her all about the events that had happened since her arrival in Bath and Sophia took a pride in Lady Overbury’s account of her lover’s brave actions.

  ‘I have known Tom and John since we were young children together because my father and Squire Woodforde are life-long friends. John was always a mean-spirited creature, prone to complain at the slightest excuse, whereas Tom was always a good-natured boy. I remember how on one occasion Tom sold a small horse that he had received as a present from the squire so that he could offer help to the gamekeeper’s starving family. John got Tom into trouble with his uncle by making out that he had got rid of the horse for other reasons.’

  ‘That hardly was the act of a friend,’ commented Lady Overbury.

  ‘Though the two boys were brought up together, there is no love between them,’ replied Sophia in a tremulous voice. ‘John used to encourage their schoolmaster to treat Tom very harshly. I think it was his way of getting revenge for nature having given Tom all the good looks that he lacked.’

  Lady Overbury tutted. �
�I am aware from my limited dealings with them which is the better man.’

  Sophia grasped her hand affectionately at this implicit commendation of the man she loved. ‘My affection for Tom took a deeper hold a couple of years ago following a riding accident whilst we were out hunting. My horse had a mettlesome spirit that required a more skilled rider and it began to prance and caper in such a manner that it threatened to throw me. Tom saw my predicament and rode to my rescue. He leapt from his horse and caught hold of my beast’s bridle. However, my horse reared its back legs in such a manner that I was hurled from the saddle. Tom somehow managed to catch me in his arms and broke my fall with his own body. It was only when I saw that his left arm was dangling at his side that I realised he had broken his arm in saving me from a fall that would surely have crippled me for life. The combination of seeing his bravery and his uncomplaining suffering made me realize just what a fine young man he was. Until then I had let his poor birth deter me from making him an object of my love, but now I judged him a true gentleman, whatever his origins.’

  ‘And what of his affair with the gamekeeper’s daughter?’ ventured Lady Overbury.

  ‘I am sorry that you have heard about that wicked jade who seduced him. I am sure that he would not have been so importunate had not my father made clear that marriage with me was an impossibility.’ She paused and tears formed in her eyes. ‘I also think that I am partly to blame because I should have let Tom know how much I love him.’

  ‘Having spoken with him I am sure that it is only you that he truly loves,’ replied Lady Overbury.

  Sophia smiled but her eyes remained dark with worry. ‘So what should I do? You heard what my aunt said. My father will never accept Tom and I am to be forced into marriage with John Burnett. I am expected to abandon the handsomest, finest, most charming man in the world for a droning, moaning fool or face being disinherited.’