The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  Alistair hugged her to him tenderly and kissed her hand. She leaned into his warm, solid bulk, drawing comfort from his presence.

  "I don’t know that they did, Viola. He could just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. On the other hand, with George being so, er, unusual, perhaps Sebastian is as well?"

  Viola didn't dare tell him all she suspected, not yet. Instead she asked, "Do you think George has been lying? That Sebastian is really dead, and George is using us for some reason?" she asked with a sniff.

  Alistair snuggled her to him even more closely. "I think he might be," he admitted. "But don’t underestimate the government. Castle was a known felon. They turned him for their own purposes. There are plenty of other men just like him out there. They might not necessarily kill Sebastian. They might just try to persuade him to cooperate."

  Viola stared, as more of the pieces of her puzzle started to fall into place.

  "But Sebastian would never—"

  "He would, to protect the people he loved, would he not?"

  "I suppose," she said numbly.

  "George says he's safe, so we just have to believe him for now. The longer he stays alive, the better chance we have of finding out what this is all about."

  "I hope so, ,but I fear it's too late—"

  "Don’t give up hope just yet."

  "No, I meant for your staff and friends."

  "Aye, too true."

  "The fact is, whatever is going on, they thought Sebastian and Gribbens knew too much, posed a threat to them. It must be very important."

  "And happening soon. There’s been an awful lot of unrest ever since Peterloo. With the king dead and Prinny now on the throne and so unpopular, I fear it’s only a matter of time before the more radical elements really do rise up."

  "Peterloo?" she said blankly.

  "The Peterloo Massacre in Manchester last summer. Let another inglorious example of government repression similar to what happened at Spa Fields, except a lot more people got injured and died," Alistair said bitterly. "Eleven dead and over four hundred wounded, including one hundred women."

  Viola looked deeply shocked. "That’s appalling. Why did I not hear about it?"

  "Because the government actually tried to suppress the news. But too many people had seen what happened. In point of fact, the trial of the eleven so-called ringleaders still hasn’t taken place. I wonder..." He trailed off, and began to look out the window, deep in thought.

  "Wonder what?" she asked softly.

  "Perhaps it has something to do with that? Swaying public opinion, to get an unfair trial. Convince the jury without them even realising it that these are dangerous men who need to be dealt with for the safety of the whole country?"

  Viola nodded. "It sounds a bit likely, but Manchester is so far away."

  "The trial is actually supposed to be in York, so far as I can recall. Some time in March."

  "Several weeks away. Hmm, it is possible, but why destroy all your papers and kill you? You weren’t involved with that trial too, were you?"

  Alistair shook his head. "No. But that’s not to say they might not fear my being brought in at some point. There aren’t too many radical barristers in the King’s Court. Mainly myself and Henry Brougham. And they need to try to make it at least look like a fair trial even if it isn’t."

  "Hmm, another Henry. But for the moment, let's say you're right about all this."

  "Yes, go on," he urged, taking her hand.

  "Well, it just seems a bit of a complicated way of dealing with a potential threat, if indeed the Peterloo men are that. Tell me what they’re being accused of, what happened."

  He settled in the seat more comfortably as he recounted, "In March 1819, Joseph Johnson, John Knight and James Wroe formed the Manchester Patriotic Union Society. All the leading radicals in Manchester joined the organisation. Johnson was appointed secretary and Wroe became treasurer. The main objective of this new organisation was to obtain parliamentary reform.

  "During the summer of 1819 it was decided to invite Major Cartwright, Henry Orator Hunt and Richard Carlile to speak at a public meeting in Manchester. The men were told that it was to be a meeting of the county of Lancashire, and they looked forward to a huge attendance.

  "Cartwright was unable to go, but Hunt and Carlile agreed, and the meeting was arranged to take place at St. Peter’s Field on 16th August. Some say Cartwright was too scared to go, that pressure was being put on him, or he had advanced warning of what was to happen.

  "The local magistrates were concerned that such a substantial gathering of reformers might end in a riot. So they decided to arrange for a large number of soldiers to be in Manchester on the day of the meeting. Nearly two thousand in fact."

  "Two thousand? Infantry?" she gasped.

  Alistair gave a sour smile. "And even cavalry and Artillery with two cannon."

  "Merciful Heavens! Cannon in the middle of a British city?" Viola exclaimed.

  "Plus the Manchester and Salford Yeomanry and all Manchester’s special constables, like our Bow Street Runners."

  "I can’t believe it," she said, shaking her head in wonder.

  "Believe it."

  "My God, I'm not surprised there was a massacre."

  Alistair nodded curtly. "The meeting started on the 16th of August, 1819, and the chief magistrate William Hulton, got twitchy. Although there was no trouble, they panicked at the growing size of the crowd, which Hulton guessed to be about fifty thousand. So he ordered the special constables to clear a path through the crowd.

  "The four hundred special constables were therefore ordered to form two continuous lines between the dais where the speeches were to take place, and Mr. Buxton’s house in Mount Street where the magistrates were staying.

  "The main speakers at the meeting arrived shortly before half past one, Hunt, Carlile, and several others, including a woman Mary Fildes. Several of the prominent local newspaper reporters and a man from The New Times, joined the speakers on the hustings.

  "At the half past one, the magistrates came to the conclusion that the town was in great danger, and Hulton gave orders to arrest the the speakers and the other leaders of the demonstration."

  "On what grounds?" she asked, outraged.

  "Their fear alone, I should think. The head of the special constables said he would need military help, so Hulton then wrote two letters, and sent them to Lieutenant Colonel L’Estrange, the commander of the military forces in Manchester, and Major Thomas Trafford, the commander of the Manchester and Salford Yeomanry.

  "Major Trafford, who was positioned only a few yards away at Pickford’s Yard, was the first to receive the order to arrest the men. Major Trafford chose Captain Hugh Birley, his second-in-command, to carry out the order."

  "I see. From your tone, I take it that it didn't go well."

  Alistair shook his head. "Local eyewitnesses claimed that most of the sixty men who Birley led into St. Peter’s Field were drunk."

  "Oh, marvelous. I can just imagine how that turned out."

  "Aye, indeed. Birley later insisted that the troop’s erratic behaviour was caused by the horses being afraid of the crowd. Which is rather absurd since cavalry horses are trained to mow down people on a loud battlefield crackling with gunfire."

  Viola felt her stomach churn and swallowed hard on the bile that threatened to erupt. "Indeed. But to mow down Englishmen and women in a British city as if they were part of Napoleon’s Grand Armee is despicable."

  He nodded, his mouth a grim line. "Most certainly this action was. The Manchester and Salford Yeomanry entered St. Peter’s Field along the path cleared by the special constables.

  "As the yeomanry moved closer to the dais, members of the crowd began to link arms to stop them arresting Hunt and the others. Other people attempted to close the pathway that had been created by the special constables. The inevitable violence ensued. Some of the yeomanry now began to use their sabres to hack their way through the crowd to get to the dais."
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  "My God. What savages! They were harmless people attending a political rally, for pity’s sake!"

  By this time, they had reached Vauxhall Gardens, leaving Viola in suspense as to the end of his tale as he swung down out of the carriage, and offered his hand to her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Viola waited while Alistair paid the cab driver, then the entrance fee for them both. He took her arm, and led her to a small isolated tea table where he was certain they would be little observed, and not overheard if he kept his voice down.

  He ordered a full meal of sandwiches, rarebit and cake, and a large pot of China tea and extra milk.

  "We’ll need to fortify our stomach for the pub crawl tonight. So eat up and drink the milk when it comes. The gin in those pubs isn’t known as Blue Ruin for nothing."

  "Funny, it’s know as Stark Naked over our way." She gave him a small smile.

  He returned the grin. "Aye, but then you do live in a brothel."

  "As have you."

  Alistair winked broadly. "How could I forget? I never knew it could be so pleasurable. There’s quite a spirited little filly in the garret who simply adores a good gallop."

  She giggled. "With the right stallion, of course. Or an excellent jockey in the saddle."

  He gave her an intense burning gave which stripped her naked in a minute. He licked his lips lingeringly, and she could almost feel his tongue upon her delicate tracery between her thighs.

  She shivered with desire, and he brushed one breast lightly under the cover of the tablecloth.

  Her expression sobered as their meal arrived. After she had done the honours and they were both sipping and eating, she asked, "So what happened when they tried to arrest the leaders of the rally in Manchester?"

  "When the constable in charge Birley and his men reached the hustings, they arrested Hunt and his colleagues. As well as the speakers and the organisers of the meeting they could get their hands on, Birley also arrested all the newspaper reporters on the hustings.

  "Lieutenant Colonel L’Estrange reported to William Hulton. When he asked Hulton what was happening, Hulton told them the Yeomanry were being attacked. So L’Estrange ordered the 15th Hussars to rescue the Manchester and Salford Yeomanry. By two o’clock the cavalry had galloped right through, cleared the field, and trampled anyone that got in their way."

  "Lord save us. That’s incredible," she sighed, feeling near tears.

  "And the government would have suppressed the whole thing had Richard Carlile not managed to avoid being arrested. After being hidden by local radicals, he took the first mail coach to London. The following day placards for Sherwin’s Political Register began appearing in London with the words: ‘Horrid Massacres at Manchester’.

  "A full report of the meeting appeared in the next edition of the newspaper. The authorities responded by raiding Carlile’s shop in Fleet Street and confiscating his complete stock of newspapers and pamphlets. Carlile was later imprisoned for publishing his story.

  "James Wroe was at the meeting and he described the attack on the crowd in the next edition of the Manchester Observer. Wroe is believed to be the first person to describe the incident as the Peterloo Massacre.

  "Wroe also produced a series of pamphlets titled ‘The Peterloo Massacre: A Faithful Narrative of the Events.’ The pamphlets, which appeared for fourteen consecutive weeks from 28th August, priced tuppence, had a large circulation, and played an important role in the propaganda war against the authorities. Wroe, like Carlile, was later sent to prison for writing these accounts of the Peterloo Massacre."

  "This must have been a disaster for the government."

  Alistair nodded. "Moderate reformers in Manchester were appalled by the decisions of the magistrates and the behaviour of the soldiers. Several of them wrote accounts of what they had witnessed. Archibald Prentice sent his report to several London newspapers. John Tyas of The Times, the only reporter from a national newspaper at the meeting, had been arrested and imprisoned. The paper was outraged, and published an article that was highly critical of the magistrates and the yeomanry.

  "I'm glad the press were all in accord as to how much of an atrocity it all was."

  "Aye, but not everyone viewed it as such. After the Peterloo Massacre, Viscount Sidmouth, who was Home Secretary then also, actually sent a letter of congratulation to the Manchester magistrates for the action they had taken."

  Viola clinked down her teacup in outrage. "The man is a barbarian."

  "And also my boss," he reminded her with a grim look.

  "Good God."

  "And he wasn't the only one. Parliament also rushed through and passed the so-called Six Acts in an attempt to make sure reform meetings like the one at St. Peter’s Field did not happen again."

  "So the leaders are still in prison?"

  Alistair nodded, then offered her more rarebit, the scent of the rich cheese sauce almost making her gag.

  "Yes. They were charged with assembling with unlawful banners at an unlawful meeting for the purpose of exciting discontent, apparently. I don’t know how many of them will go to prison, or for how long, but if the government has any sense, they’ll let them go."

  "They don’t appear to have acted very sensibly so far," she pointed out, toying with her food moodily, her small appetite dwindling to almost nothing now.

  Alistair sighed. "True. But some, you have to have something more if we're ever to survive our pub crawl."

  "All right."

  She forced herself to take another forkful of rarebit, and they ate for a time in silence.

  "So what were the Six Acts you mentioned?" she asked as she cleaned up the last of the sauce from her plate.

  "They were written by Sidmouth and introduced and rammed though the house by Castlereagh. They were the Training Prevention Act; the Seizure of Arms Act; the Seditious Meetings Act; the Blasphemous and Seditious Libels Act; the Misdemeanours Act; and the Newspaper Stamp Duties Act. Together they’re the most repressive legislation England has ever seen."

  "What do they legislate against?" Viola asked around a morsel of cake.

  "The Training Prevention Act prohibits civilian bodies from training in the use of weapons. The Seizure of Arms Act, linked to the the Training Prevention Act, gives Justices of the Peace and magistrates the right to search private houses for weapons, to seize them and their possessors.

  "The Seditious Meetings Act restricts to parish level all public meetings that were called to discuss ‘any public grievance or any matter on Church and State’. Organisers have to provide local magistrates with due notice of the time and place of the meeting. The magistrates are empowered to change the date and/or time of the meeting at will, to prevent any attempt to organise insurrection."

  "And of course they are allowed to define what is seditious," Viola said dryly, taking his hand.

  "Of course." Alistair gave a tight smile and continued. "The Blasphemous and Seditious Libels Act fixes the penalties for these activities to transportation for fourteen years. Magistrates have been empowered to seek, seize and confiscate all libellous materials in the possession of the accused."

  Viola shook her head. "Fourteen years? Just for a pamphlet?"

  "Afraid so."

  "That’s appalling."

  He nodded. "And I’ve said so publicly. But even worse is the next one. The Misdemeanours Act provides for speedier legal machinery so that people could be brought to trial faster. This reduces the likelihood of bail being obtained by the accused. It also allows for quicker convictions. That’s why my client was going to trial so quickly, even though I had doubts about Gribbens’ testimony."

  "I see. So he couldn’t get bail, was stuck in jail, and then they killed him," she said with a shake of her head.

  "Aye, in a nutshell. And to stop people from find out about all of these appalling oppressive measures, we have the 6th wonderful Act, the Newspaper and Stamp Duties Act. It greatly increased the taxes on printed matter, including newspapers, periodi
cals and pamphlets. When it went into effect, publishers and printers had to provide securities for their ‘good behaviour’. Any publication appearing at least once a month, and costing less than sixpence, became subject to a tax of four pence, thus restricting the freedom of the legitimate press.

  "Radical publications simply went underground, but it put the legitimate publications out of the price range of the ordinary person. Four pence a day extra is a substantial sum for someone living on only ten shillings a week."

  "So even if the poor are able to read, they can’t afford to," she said, appalled.

  Alistair nodded. "Precisely. We Radicals have set up reading rooms around the capital to deal with this problem. In a democracy, everyone has the right to know what’s going on right on their own doorstep.