The Storm Breaks (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 4)

by Julia Brannan

  Edwin retrieved the letter from the table and re-read it.

  “She’s signed it Elizabeth,” he said straight away, “but Sarah’s always called her Beth.”

  That was it! Why hadn’t Caroline thought of that before?

  “But it’s more than that,” Edwin said. “The whole style of it’s different to the letter. It’s almost as though someone else has written it, or dictated it at least. What’s this thing dangling off the ‘E’?”

  “It’s a spider,” said Caroline.

  “What’s that all about?”

  “I’ve no idea. But Sarah has. When she read it she looked as though she’d just won the lottery.”

  * * *

  Sarah did not look as though she’d won the lottery two days later when Caroline returned to Harriet’s. She looked more as though she’d been kicked by a horse. All the swelling and bruising had come out, and Caroline found it hard to hide her shock.

  “It’s all right,” said Sarah, starting to smile then remembering in time how much it would hurt if she did. “There are mirrors here. I know what I look like. And Harriet’s told me, as well. So has Philippa. Oliver nearly fainted with shock.”

  “Ah, yes. Harriet’s a good sort, but she’s not known for her tact. Philippa’s a lot like her.”

  “She is. Harriet told me that she couldn’t understand why you thought I was pretty, as she can’t see any looks at all in me. Although she did say you’re not normally prone to exaggeration.”

  Caroline laughed.

  “Forget Harriet, and Philippa,” she said. “Take it from me, you are pretty. Very pretty.”

  “Not any more,” Sarah pointed out.

  “That’s just temporary,” said Caroline dismissively. “You’ll be fine when the swelling goes down.”

  “I hope not,” replied Sarah, to Caroline’s surprise. “I don’t want to be pretty. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

  “He’s gone, Sarah,” said Caroline quietly. “That’s what I came to tell you, and Anne. He’s gone north. He won’t be back until the rebellion’s over.”

  “But he will come back at some point, won’t he?” Sarah pointed out.

  “Make a complaint against him,” Caroline suggested again. “He can’t ruin your reputation now you’ve got a reference. I know Colonel Hutchinson. He’s a fair man. He’ll make sure Richard’s punished.”

  “Will they hang him if I do?” Sarah asked.

  “No. But he’ll be severely flogged, I would think.”

  “No point then, is there? If I do that he’ll just come back, make sure he won’t be disturbed, and then he’ll kill me. Very slowly and painfully.” She thought for a minute. “Caroline, if I buy a pistol, will you teach me how to use it?”

  “Yes, if you want,” Caroline said. “But there’s a big difference between knowing how to use a gun, and actually killing someone with it.”

  “Not to me there isn’t,” Sarah said. “Anne might feel she still owes her husband devotion and loyalty, but I don’t. If that bastard ever comes within ten yards of me again I’ll shoot him without hesitation. But I need to be accurate, because if I miss or wing him, I won’t get a second chance.”

  This was not bravado. She meant it. Caroline smiled.

  “Then,” she said, “it will give me the greatest pleasure to teach you to shoot accurately enough to get him in the heart at fifty paces.”

  “I doubt he’s got a heart,” said Sarah grimly. “But I’ll be quite happy to aim for where it should be and find out.”

  “Where’s Anne?” asked Caroline. “Has she thought any more about what she wants to do?”

  “She wants to go back home. She’s coming round a little, though. Harriet’s been chipping away at her notions of wifely duty for two days.”

  “Good. But I know Anne. She’s easily influenced. As soon as she gets home Charlotte will be convincing her she owes obedience to her man. I wonder if I can persuade her to stay here a bit longer?”

  “You can try,” said Sarah. “She’s in the hothouse with Harriet, explaining that fennel alleviates the phlegmatic humour eating fish causes, and that eating raw cabbage helps to prevent drunkenness.”

  “Does it?” asked Caroline.

  “I’ve no idea,” said Sarah. “But even this small dose of Harriet is giving Anne a little courage. If you can persuade her to stay here for a month, she’ll maybe shoot Richard herself next time she sees him, and save me the bother.”

  Caroline grinned.

  “I’ll go now, and see what I can do,” she said.

  At the door she stopped and reaching into her pocket took out a piece of paper, which she offered to Sarah.

  “Edwin and I decided to burn Beth’s letter,” she said. “But I thought you might want this.”

  Sarah took the paper and looked at it. Then she walked over to Caroline and kissed her on the cheek, in spite of the pain even such a gentle contact must have caused her lips.

  “Thank you,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

  It was the postscript, carefully trimmed from the bottom of the letter.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Beth had told just one lie in her letter to Caroline. She was not happy. In fact she had never been more unhappy in her life. Alex was still ignoring her. Any tentative attempts to speak to him were rebuffed, so she had decided to take Duncan’s advice and wait until he came to her. In the meantime, aware that her presence amongst the MacGregors was making many of them feel uneasy, she spent the majority of her time with the Manchester Regiment, under the protection of John and Graeme. Away from any chance of seeing Alex even at a distance, it was easier to pretend that nothing was wrong. But no matter how much she laughed and joked with her fellow Mancunians, the unhappiness, now lodged in a permanent lump under her heart, did not diminish.

  She was not alone. Many of the Jacobites were unhappy. The last ten days had not been pleasant for anybody. Desperate for action, the men’s spirits had been temporarily raised at Lancaster by Charles’s decision to wait for Cumberland’s forces and engage them in battle. Lord George Murray, under protest, feeling the circumstances were not right, selected a battlefield. The men waited. No enemy appeared. The battlefield was abandoned. Annoyed, Lord George could not resist making a jibe at the prince as they rode out of Lancaster.

  Thwarted in their hopes of a good fight, the men channelled their energies into the less inviting prospect of negotiating the often narrow, steep and perilous Shap road, which made its tortuous way from Kendal to Penrith across fells, through flooded streams and over the hills which connected the Lake District to the Pennines, all in driving icy rain. The main body of the army went ahead, with Lord George Murray bringing up the rear with the artillery and ammunition carts. The appalling weather made progress slow, with the result that whilst the unencumbered van of the army reached Penrith in two days, Lord George found himself overtaken near Clifton by a large body of Hanoverian dragoons and mounted infantry.

  Messengers dashed ahead to Penrith calling for reinforcements, while MacDonell of Glengarry’s men, already exhausted from hauling the heavy carts up and down the waterlogged roads, fought a running fight with the Hanoverians for several miles until they reached the village of Clifton itself, where Lord George received the very welcome news that rather than being about to fight the whole of Cumberland’s army, as he had thought, he was only facing the first two thousand or so, with the duke himself in command. Moments later came the less welcome news that Charles, in a fit of pique against his lieutenant-general, was refusing to send back his whole army, only allowing enough reinforcements to ensure that Lord George and his men would not be overwhelmed by Cumberland’s force.

  The MacPhersons and Appin Stewarts raced back to Clifton, where a somewhat haphazard but extremely fierce thirty minute battle took place, after which Lord George, certain that the way out of the village was now clear, disengaged his troops. They then marched peacefully on to Penrith, leaving a frustrated Duke of Cumberland to occupy Clifton villag
e and reorganise his scattered men, many of whom had retreated or fled under the ferocious assault of the rebels.

  With night coming down, the bulk of his army still down in central England ready to respond to the expected French invasion, and uncertain as to how many men he was facing, Cumberland dared not go after the Jacobites at this point. Instead he enjoyed the hospitality of a local Quaker in a modest cottage for the night whilst his less fortunate army slept outside on Clifton Moor, as a consequence of which they were so debilitated by the cold and wet that they were incapable of marching anywhere at all until they had rested for a further day. Inspecting his shivering, drenched troops, Cumberland had no idea how lucky he had been. Lord George’s taunt, and Charles’ reaction to it, had prevented the Jacobites from winning a decisive victory over the duke, which would not only have resulted in the crushing defeat of a large body of his army, but would have also crushed public confidence in Cumberland himself, damaging his reputation irreparably.

  In the meantime the Jacobites marched on through the unrelenting driving rain unopposed, arriving in Carlisle on the nineteenth of December, where Prince Charles was about to make yet another catastrophic decision.

  * * *

  If Beth had thought life could not get any worse, she was being proved wrong now.

  “Please, John,” she said, “don’t do it.”

  “I have to, Beth, the whole regiment’s staying. I can’t desert them now.”

  “I’m not asking you to desert. You can come with us. Alex likes you. If you ask him, he’ll let you join the MacGregors. You know he will. You and Graeme.”

  “Beth…”

  “He’s got no argument with you, John. Please!”

  John reached out and took her hand. Her blue eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, and his heart contracted with love and pity. She had been frequently tearful over the last few days, and he had been tempted to go and have a word with her husband himself. Only two things stopped him; the fact that it was not socially acceptable to get involved in disputes between a man and his wife; and the knowledge that the enormous grim-faced Highlander could, and in his current mood probably would, tear John limb from limb if he challenged him.

  “Beth, I must do this,” he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “It’ll only be for a few weeks at the most. The prince came to us himself and told us that there are enormous forces building up in Scotland. Once they’ve taken Stirling Castle and the other forts holding out for George, they’ll be back. And we’ll be here waiting for them. His father will never forget the courage of the brave and loyal men of Manchester, who let the whole country know the Stuarts had not abandoned England to the Elector.” He smiled down at her.

  “Is that what he told you?” she said.

  “Yes. Well, he said a lot more than that, because there are some French gunners and a couple of hundred Scots staying too, but those were the words he said to us. He looked directly at me at one point, too!”

  “I don’t suppose he made any mention of the fact that Cumberland will be here in a couple of days, did he?” Beth said.

  “He didn’t need to. We already know that. But Cumberland hasn’t got any cannon, and we have, and Captain Hamilton’s already held the town for the prince for over a month without us. It’ll be no problem.”

  “Cumberland can get heavy cannon from Whitehaven, John. Eighteen pounders. Hamilton’s got nothing that can withstand that. Some of the walls are old and weak. And Cumberland’s got maybe four thousand men to your five hundred or so.”

  “How do you know that?” John asked.

  “Alex was at the council meeting. He thinks that Charles is only insisting on the defence of Carlisle because Lord George is set against it. He told Duncan, and Duncan told me. Please, John, I need you. We’ve only just met again, after three years. I don’t want to lose you now.” Her voice broke, and he gathered her into his arms, heedless of the knowing smiles and winks from the passing men.

  “Beth,” he said softly, deeply disturbed by her emotional fragility. She had always seemed so strong, the daring, outgoing one. “Don’t let him crush you. No man’s worth that. I have to do this, I have to. I’m English, Beth, my home is here. I joined the army to fight for Charles in England, and this way I can do it and hold a piece of it for him until he comes back. I don’t want to go to Scotland.”

  Her face had been buried in his shoulder, but now she pulled back and looked up at him. He had the same fearful look on his face at the thought of going to Scotland that many of the Scots had had on entering England. It was hopeless trying to persuade him to go on with her.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’m English too. I belong here, with you and Graeme. I’m staying as well.”

  That wasn’t quite what John had meant, but having said the defence of Carlisle would be no problem, he could hardly raise any objections. Maybe it would do her good to get away from Alex. Maybe when she was gone Alex would realise how much he missed her, and come back for her. And if he didn’t, well, good riddance to him. John’s mind filled with thoughts of returning to Didsbury with Graeme and Beth, to live happily ever after in the warm and cosy kitchen with Thomas and Jane. Once this was all over. It would not be too long. Charles would return; he had promised he would, and with a huge army this time that would crush Cumberland like a bug.

  Once decided, Beth wasted no time. She packed up her few meagre belongings, tried to find Duncan and, failing, told Angus what she was doing instead, telling him to say goodbye to everyone for her. Then, seeing his shocked expression and frightened that she would weaken if he objected or pleaded with her, she shot off into the crowd and was back with the Manchester Regiment within the hour.

  John had managed to get lodgings on Fishergate for himself and Graeme and had set up a little pallet in the corner of the room, onto which Beth threw her small bundle.

  “This is nice!” she said with feigned cheerfulness. “What are you doing?”

  John was bustling about in the corner.

  “It’s not decent, though,” he said. He held up a piece of ragged material. “I was trying to sort out a little curtain for you to sleep behind, but…” He looked at the threadbare fabric doubtfully. Beth laughed.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m hardly in any danger from you and Graeme, am I? It’ll be like sleeping with my father and my brother…” She stopped, flushing scarlet. “I’ll be safe,” she continued. “Let’s go down to the market, find Graeme and see what’s happening.”

  What was happening appeared to be organised chaos. The Scots were already moving out, heading for the crossing of the River Esk and Scotland. Graeme was nowhere to be seen. Those who were staying were congregating in the grounds of the cathedral, and it was as they were heading there that Beth saw Angus, a head taller than most of the others, pushing his way determinedly in their direction.

  It was pointless trying to escape him. He had already seen her. She waited with John until he reached her side.

  “Ye’re to come wi’ me,” he said. “Alex says ye canna stay here.” His tone was curt, his normally open good-humoured face closed and set, and she sensed that he was as reluctant to give her this information as she was to receive it.

  “You told him I was staying here?” she said accusingly.

  “Aye, of course I did.” Angus looked at her incredulously. “He’s your husband, he’s a right to know.”

  “The last time he spoke to me he said I could do as I wish,” she answered angrily. “I wish to stay here. Go back and tell him that.”

  She started to turn away but Angus laid his hand on her arm, stopping her.

  “He said I’m to listen to nothing ye say, but fetch ye back.”

  “Fetch me back?” she said, her eyes suddenly gleaming. “He wants to talk to me?”

  Angus looked away and bit his lip.

  “He didna say that,” he replied reluctantly. “He said to keep you with me until we’re well clear of Carlis
le, to make sure ye couldna come back. I’m sorry.”

  “He’s got no right!” she cried. “Let me stay, Angus, please. He doesn’t want me. He won’t notice I haven’t come with you for days, if you don’t tell him.”

  “Aye, he will,” said Angus, tightening his grip on her arm when she tried to shake him off. He glanced at John. “Dinna make me carry ye, Beth, please.”

  She had no choice. If she refused to go Angus would take her by force, and John would probably feel obliged to come to her defence. She had no wish to put her brother-in-law in the position of having to kill or injure her friend because of her stubbornness.

  “Very well, then,” she said, her voice cold, her mouth set in a mutinous line. “If I come with you, what happens when we’re well clear of Carlisle and I can’t come back?”

  Angus shrugged.

  “Alex didna say. I let ye go, I suppose. Ye can stay wi’ me if ye want. I thought ye might prefer to walk wi’ Graeme, though.” He was deeply uncomfortable, looking everywhere but at her, and John guessed that Angus had only agreed to abduct Beth after a heated dispute with his brother. Beth failed to notice her brother-in-law’s discomfort, being too caught up in the implications of his words.

  “Graeme?” she said, her eyes lighting up.

  “Aye. He asked Alex if he could come wi’ us.” He looked over her shoulder and nodded to someone.

  “That’s right,” came the familiar voice from behind her. “I’ve been trying to find you all day to tell you. And say goodbye to you, John. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come as well?”

  John shook his head, and Graeme nodded.

  “Yes, well, it’s different for me, I suppose, my dad having been a Scot and all. It’ll be interesting to see the place he came from. And I thought you could do with a friend, too.” He smiled at Beth, who beamed back at him.

  “Oh, yes!” she said, with a fervour that made Angus flush. He let go of her arm and moved away a little. “But don’t come just on account of me,” she added.