These were the thoughts of her dark hours, when she listened to the snores and moans of the other women and sleep would not come. In the daytime when she knew she might be observed by those who would report back, she was always in good spirits, laughing, telling stories, teaching the others card games she had learned as a child, and joining in with the singing that they all loved so much and that was part of their Highland culture.
It could be worse, and no doubt would be, in time. But for now life was good, given the circumstances, and she threw herself into that wholeheartedly, banishing the pessimistic thoughts to the back of her mind and the darkness of sleepless nights.
* * *
Beth had just started telling her version of Jack and the Beanstalk for Highlanders, when the door opened and Mr Jones came in.
“Miss Cunningham, there are two soldiers here for you,” he said.
Beth closed her eyes, pulled all her resources together, then opened them again.
“Am I to be taken to trial?” she asked calmly.
“No, my lady. You are to be taken to Whitehall.”
Cumberland then. Or Newcastle perhaps. If Jones was calling her ‘my lady’ then she was certainly not about to be tried for her life.
She stood and brushed down her petticoat. She had worn the same clothes for three weeks, with very primitive washing facilities. Maybe the stench of her would make him feel sick. She smiled to herself.
“Very well,” she said. “I am ready.”
But…on the other hand…
“I trust,” she added, scratching her head vigorously, “that suitable clothing has been brought from the Tower for me, and that you have provided the facilities for me to wash myself thoroughly.”
Mr Jones looked at her as if she had just requested to bathe in the blood of a hundred virgins.
“I see by your expression that you have not. Very well. I am sure the duke will forgive me if I infest his office with lice and God knows what else. Of course he may wonder why I am being taken across London in a state of undress, but I am sure when I tell him of the prices you charge for commodities he will appreciate my situation. Take me to the soldiers, Mr Jones.”
“No,” Beth said, “I think that one will be more fitting for me to meet the prince.” She pointed to a lemon-coloured brocaded satin gown. The colour would do nothing for her complexion, but the skirt and bodice were lavishly embroidered with gold thread. Maybe the dress would help to keep her in good health until she was executed. Kate smiled and carefully unfolded the dress, whilst Beth combed the tangles out of her freshly washed hair. On the table was a pot of tea especially for Kate, although Beth had not said that when ordering it.
Her apartments at the Tower had been kept ready for her return, she realised on entering them, after having been rushed there by the soldiers and told she had one hour to dress, as the prince expected her by ten. She would not prevaricate this time. This was not the time for small victories.
Kate sipped at the tea, but it was clear from the expression on her face that the chocolate had made a better impression.
“Next time, if there is a next time, I shall order chocolate for you again,” Beth commented.
The maid was instantly flustered.
“Oh, no, my lady, I do not wish to seem ungrateful!” she exclaimed. She really did wear all her emotions on her face. She never would have been a good ally in deceit. Beth hoped Kate would never have to lie to save her life. Or tell a partial truth to end it.
“You are not ungrateful. I’m very grateful to have you to help me dress on such an important occasion. It’s not every day that I get to meet the man who will, I am sure, change my whole life once he hears what I have to say.”
“Of course. I hope all goes well for you, my lady,” Kate said, blushing, which told Beth volumes. She put down her cup and moved behind Beth to help braid her hair.
“So,” Beth said. “They are speculating in the servants’ quarters as to whether I will become Prince William’s mistress, are they?”
In the mirror, now restored to its place on the dressing table, Beth saw Kate flush scarlet.
“I’m sorry,” Beth said. “I am not offended. Very little offends me. But let me give you some advice, in confidence. If anyone is running a bet, you might wish to put a little money down.”
“Some of them are saying he will marry you, my lady,” the maid stammered.
“But most of them are not. I do not think we will meet again, Kate, so here is my advice. Put your money on the option that I will become neither his wife nor his mistress. And when you win, will you promise me something?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“Buy yourself some chocolate, and drink a toast to me.”
Beth arrived at the Duke of Newcastle’s office at ten on the dot. Her punctuality was noted by Prince William Augustus, who stood and came around the table to escort her politely to her seat. This time he did not kiss her hand, and he was wearing his military uniform which she had to admit suited him well, although the buttons of his waistcoat strained across his stomach.
He is gaining more weight, she thought. It must be all those celebratory dinners.
He was clearly not going to wear his heart on his sleeve for her to stab, as he had at their last meeting. She prepared herself for war. She had to achieve the outcome she desired, and this might be her only chance to do it.
“Good morning, Miss Cunningham,” the prince said, once they were both seated.
“Good morning,” she replied calmly.
“I have called for tea and cakes,” he said. “I thought you might appreciate them, in view of your recent change of accommodation. Have you had time to think about your situation in the last weeks?”
This was it.
“I have indeed, had plenty of time to think,” she said.
He nodded.
“I hope you have come to the right decision.”
“I believe I have. I –”
She was interrupted by a knock on the door and turned her head to look, expecting a servant with a tray.
The door opened and John Murray of Broughton walked in. He was thinner than the last time she had seen him and had the pallor and shadowed eyes of someone who has suffered from a long illness, but nevertheless she recognised him instantly.
For a split second Beth knew that the horror of seeing him must have registered on her face, and she thanked God that she had turned away from Cumberland. Broughton’s eyes passed over her with appreciation but no recognition, and then focussed on the duke.
Beth marshalled all the acting skills she had learned from her husband, and when she turned back to Cumberland she was once again calm.
“You called for me, Your Highness?” Murray asked.
“I did. I thought you might like to become reacquainted with the lovely Miss Cunningham.”
Murray turned his attention back to Beth, and bowed.
“Your servant, madam,” he said politely.
Beth nodded her head in acknowledgement of the courtesy.
“I regret to say that I am no’ acquainted with this lady,” Murray said coolly, “although if I were no’ already happily married, I wouldna be averse to becoming so.”
The duke scrutinised the two of them for a moment.
“Are you certain, sir? She would not have been dressed so grandly and would perhaps have been accompanied by a tall, well-built man, who would have been posing as her husband.”
“I am sure that however she was dressed I would have recognised such a beautiful woman, had we met before,” Broughton replied. For a moment he turned his back on the duke, and his expression changed. “Your hair is most remarkable, my lady,” he said to her.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, to his facial expression rather than his compliment.
“This man who would have been with her,” the duke persisted, “is the traitor known as Sir Anthony Peters. I would be most grateful to the person who could shed some light on his true appearance or his wh
ereabouts. And there is a substantial reward on offer for his capture.”
Murray nodded.
“As there is for the Pretender’s son,” he said. “But just as I have no notion of his whereabouts, I have no knowledge of this lady, nor of this Sir Anthony you speak of. I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness.”
The duke was disappointed. It was evident in every line of his face as he dismissed the Scotsman and turned back to Beth. The tea arrived and they both waited until it was poured, after which the servant retired on the duke’s nod.
“Mr Murray was secretary to the Pretender’s son during the rebellion, but has now realised the error of his ways and has agreed to cooperate with us in all things. His information will most certainly assist us greatly in prosecuting the Fraser chief Lord Lovat, who is in custody at the moment, and he has also given us valuable information regarding the English Jacobites. You would do well to learn from his example. He will be treated most leniently by the authorities, in spite of his central role in the rebellion.”
“For what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world, but lose himself or be cast away?” Beth said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Luke, chapter nine, verse twenty-five,” she explained.
“I know my bible, madam!” the duke said hotly. “What do you mean by it?”
“I would think that to be clear. I would rather die in prison than turn traitor, for no amount of money or leniency would ever salve my conscience. You are wasting your time. All I feel for this man is pity, for I believe, if he played such a central role as you suggest, he will regret this moment of weakness for the rest of his life.”
She picked up her cup and coolly took a sip of her tea. It was strange, but now the moment was here she was calm and had no fear that the cup would rustle in the saucer. Alex had told her that sometimes, when both sides were lined up facing each other, ready for battle, there would come over everyone an eerie stillness, when all fear of death and injury fell away and in the silence you could hear the smallest sound, colours were brighter, and the world seemed exquisitely beautiful, life an intensely precious thing. And then the moment passed, the cannons roared, and the fight began.
So it was now, as she sipped the tea and tasted the bitterness of the leaves, the liquid warm on her tongue. She could hear her own heart beating strongly and slowly, and felt the blood pumping through her veins. Life was indeed intensely precious, and she knew without doubt that it was worth throwing hers away to protect so many others. And then the duke spoke, and the fight began.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice kind and caring again. “Although many would not commend your stubbornness and loyalty to your mistaken cause, I do. There is something admirable in it. But you must now put these notions aside and be guided by those who wish to help you. There is no shame in recognising that you were misguided by rogues and traitors who care nothing for you. Women are by their very nature frail and easily led. No one will blame you for telling me what you know. They will understand that you had no choice but to bend to the will of your superiors. Please, Elizabeth, I beg you to reconsider. I cannot tell you what it cost me to commit you to the filth and degradation of Newgate, but I only did it to help you see the error of your ways.” His expression was earnest, pleading even. He genuinely loved her, and genuinely wanted to help her.
Alex had told her, if this day ever came, that she should give him up. And she had given him her answer.
“Your Highness,” she said, giving him the benefit of his title for the first, and last time, “my disgust at the filth and degradation of Newgate are nothing compared to the disgust I felt when I had to endure your tedious conversation and your clumsy attempts to seduce me, at the palace and the theatre. It was all I could do not to be sick when you laid your hand on my knee. You and your dullard of a father disgust me to my stomach, and the only reason I could tolerate the endless tedium of my time with your ridiculous family was because I knew that Sir Anthony and I were making fools of you all, and that one day you would come to know that. But it seems you still persist in your childish and repellent infatuation with me, so I will make myself very clear. I would rather lie with Satan himself than with you. The thought of spending more than a minute with you fills me with the utmost revulsion and always has. I will never, under any circumstances whatsoever, betray Sir Anthony or anyone else to you. Do you understand me now, or must I elaborate further on the emotions you aroused in me when you begged me to become your whore?”
At the start of her speech the duke had reddened, but by the end of it the colour had drained from his face, and Beth knew she had, irrevocably, burned her bridges.
What she wanted was death, and soon. She hoped she had done enough to get that. By the look on his face, she had. Wordlessly he rang the bell, and when the soldiers came, he told them to take her directly back to Newgate.
As she travelled back, firstly along the river then up St Andrew’s street, she tried to absorb as much detail as she could; the warmth of the sun on her upturned face, the lapping of the water against the side of the boat, the bustle of the people thronging the streets, the soaring dome of St Paul’s Cathedral.
And all the way she uttered one prayer, over and over.
Let it have been enough to condemn me. And let me die soon, and well.
When she arrived back at the prison she was returned to her cell, the duke having given no further instructions to her guards than to return her to jail. Her cellmates looked up as she entered, most of them wearing identical expressions of surprise. So, she thought, it was not only the Tower servants who thought I would succumb to the charms of William Augustus.
She looked around at them and smiled. Then she lifted her dress up at both sides as though preparing to curtsey, displaying the weight and beauty of the silk, the embroidery on it gleaming in the candlelight.
“Now,” she said, “let us see how many comforts this will buy us. We must make the most of it, because I do not think the duke will be requesting the pleasure of my company again.” She asked the turnkey, who was about to lock the door, to request the presence of Mr Jones at his earliest convenience, then sat down on one of the mattresses. The surprised expressions were now giving way to intense curiosity, and to forestall a barrage of questions she had no intention of answering, she spoke immediately.
“Now, where was I up to in my story before we were so rudely interrupted?”
“Wee Jack’s mother had just found out the cow was diseased, and told him tae sell it to the redcoat captain,” Annie, one of those who had sheltered wounded rebels, recalled.
“Ah, yes. So, on the way to the market, who should Jack come across but a crooked old man, who offered him five magic beans for the cow…”
The women took the hint, and settled down to hear the rest of the story.
CHAPTER TEN
Fort William, late August 1746
Captain Richard Cunningham was ecstatic. When he had entered Colonel Hutchinson’s office he had been somewhat apprehensive, especially when he saw the stern countenance of his superior officer. Richard suspected the colonel didn’t like him, although he had never done anything to offend the man, as far as he knew. Following their previous interview, Richard had done his utmost to prove his loyalty to the crown and to distance himself from any taint of treason. His ferocity at Culloden and his ruthlessness in dealing with the Highland rabble since then had been legendary.
And finally, it seemed to have paid off. Far from taking him to task over the unfortunate deaths of three women last week who had later been found to be members of a loyal clan, Colonel Hutchinson had told Richard that he was to depart for London at the express command of the Duke of Cumberland, who had a particular task for him to perform.
When a stunned Richard had asked what the task was, the colonel had replied that that was for the Duke of Cumberland to inform him of. Which as far as Richard was concerned, was another way of saying ‘I don’t know’.
So, a particular
task, and one that could not be entrusted to the colonel. Richard had no idea what it could be, but whatever it was, he would perform it to the utmost of his ability. This was a chance for him to shine, to prove his worth to those who could promote him to the stars if they chose!
He would not be sorry to see the back of Scotland, that was certain. A darker, more barren shithole he had never encountered, although it did have its advantages, in that you could do whatever you wanted to any rebel men or women you came across, with no consequences whatsoever. He had done things with rebel women that no prostitute would let him do, not even the penny whores of St Giles, which was saying a lot. And if the woman died while he was taking his pleasure, no one gave a damn. Except perhaps their husbands, of course. But they were dead, or rotting in jail, or skulking in the hills starving, so they counted for nothing.
Yes, he would miss that aspect of Scotland. He had developed a fine taste for torture now, but he would have to rein that in once he was back in England, where even whores had some rights in law.
To celebrate his good fortune, on his last night in Fort William he picked up one of the beggars who were always loitering around the place, bought her a meal, made her wash herself thoroughly, and then had a pleasant few hours with her down by the side of the loch before rolling her body into the water. Usually he burnt the bodies of his victims in their ramshackle huts, but that was not an option here. She would no doubt be found and her injuries commented on, but she could not be linked to him, and no one would waste any time investigating the death of a beggar anyway.
His appointment with the duke was in ten days. For safety he rode to Carlisle with a group of other soldiers, all in very high spirits, heading home on leave. But once in England he travelled on alone, to the great relief of the others, whose spirits had been much dampened by the forbidding, taciturn captain.
Having sufficient time, he decided to travel via Manchester and spend a night in his house in Didsbury, which he hadn’t visited for months but had left in the care of an elderly couple who had been instructed to keep it habitable at all times. That was one of the advantages of having married that dried-up frigid mouse Anne; he could now afford to pay to have fires burning in empty rooms. He only paid the couple a pittance, but they had free board and little to do when he was away. He would spend the night there, have a bath and a good meal, then get a decent rest so he would be at his best tomorrow. He had an important errand to perform in the town.
Pursuit of Princes (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 5) Page 27