Pursuit of Princes (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 5)

by Julia Brannan

  It was something of a shock therefore, when he rode up the drive to find that not only was there no one in residence, but the house was certainly not being looked after. Grass and weeds were growing up through the cobbles of the drive and the green paint on the door was flaking. For a moment he was transported back to that day four years ago when he had ridden up the drive to find the house in a similar condition. He looked around, half expecting to see his hoyden of a sister come racing across the grass astride a black mare, skirts round her knees and hair hanging in untidy straggles round her face.

  He chided himself for his stupidity, and looked back at the house. His sister was gone, likely dead or hiding in France or some such place, and he was no longer a mere sergeant but a captain, and soon, hopefully, to be promoted again. He was the master here now and when the lazy bastards who were supposed to be caring for the house turned up, he’d flay them alive.

  The door was locked and he had no key, so to his extreme irritation he had to resort to breaking into his own house by smashing one of the small window panes before lifting the sash and climbing in. Once in he realised that no one had lived in this house for weeks, maybe months; the rooms were cold, the air stale, and there was a layer of dust on everything. Grey cobwebs hung from the chandelier in the lounge, and when he made his way to his bedroom the bedding was damp and smelt of mould.

  He could not stay here.

  Raging mad and threatening all kinds of vengeance on the couple who had taken his money and given nothing in return, he headed into Manchester, where he spent an extortionate amount of money on an overcooked mutton chop and an indifferent room. It seemed reasonably clean when he went to bed, but turned out to have numerous unwelcome residents who, roused by the warmth of his body, had an all-night feast, with the result that the Captain Cunningham who arrived promptly at nine the following morning at the Deansgate office of Edward Cox, solicitor, was neither bathed, replete, nor rested.

  “Good morning, Sergeant Cunningham,” Mr Cox said, once recovered from the surprise of seeing his former client on his doorstep after an absence of nearly four years.

  “Captain,” Richard replied curtly.

  “Really?” Mr Cox said, with a tone of astonishment that Richard would have found insulting had he not been fully occupied with trying to resist a whole body itch that made him want to tear his skin off. “Well, Captain Cunningham, how can I be of assistance to you?”

  “May I impose on you for a few minutes?” Richard asked. “I have an important matter I wish to discuss with you.”

  He was shown into the solicitor’s office, and coffee was sent for.

  “Now Captain,” said Mr Cox, sitting forward in his chair, “how can I help you with your important matter?”

  “I am on my way to London, to an urgent meeting with the Duke of Cumberland,” Richard said pompously, “but I thought it necessary to apprise you of the situation regarding my sister Elizabeth.”

  “Ah, yes, the delightful Lady Peters,” Edward Cox exclaimed. “How is she? I have not seen her for…oh…nearly three years. Quite a memorable last meeting, as I recall.”

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Richard said, “but I have to inform you that the man we all knew as Sir Anthony Peters was in fact a spy for the Jacobite cause, and has disappeared, along with Elizabeth. There is a large reward out for his capture. I had thought you would be aware of this.”

  Mr Cox blanched and sat back in his chair, his mouth open in shock. It was eminently clear that he had most definitely not been aware of this.

  “Dear God,” he gasped after a moment. “Has he harmed her? Have you heard anything of her whereabouts?”

  “No, nothing,” Richard replied impatiently. “But –”

  “My dear sir, you must be distraught,” Mr Cox interrupted, distracted. “How dreadful! Of course I will do anything in my power to help you find Elizabeth and restore her to her family. How can I help?”

  Richard frowned. This was not going as he had intended.

  “I assure you sir, that everything possible is being done to apprehend the traitor Anthony. And to find my sister,” he added belatedly. “I have not come to ask for your help in finding her, although of course if you hear anything of the possible whereabouts of the man known as Sir Anthony, you will inform the authorities immediately.”

  “Of course,” Mr Cox answered. “So, if you do not wish my help in finding your sister, why have you come to see me?”

  “The real Sir Anthony Peters died of smallpox when he was a small child. This impostor married my sister under a false name, so their marriage was not a legal one. Therefore he had no right to the twenty thousand pounds which my father left as a dowry. As I am sure you are aware, the property of traitors is automatically forfeit to the Crown. I have therefore come to take possession of the money.”

  “I see,” said the solicitor, in quite a different tone from that which he had used so far. “You think your sister to be a traitor as well. Is this the common view?”

  Richard flushed.

  “I do not know whether Elizabeth is a traitor or merely the dupe of this bast…this man, but regardless, he has no right to the dowry.”

  “No, indeed he does not. But if the marriage is invalid, as you say, then your sister is still single, is she not? And therefore any remaining monies would remain in trust until she attains the age of thirty. Or marries elsewhere.”

  “Or dies,” Richard said bluntly.

  “Indeed. In which case it would go to build a foundling hospital, under the provisions of your father’s will. As I explained to you when you came to see me after your father’s death.”

  “So you are saying that unless my sister is proved to be a traitor, I cannot claim the money my father left?” Richard said hotly.

  “I am saying nothing of the sort,” Mr Cox replied coldly. “In the event that your sister proves to be a traitor, her dowry will become the property of the Crown.”

  “In which case I will be entitled –”

  “To nothing,” Mr Cox finished. “Any money would become the property of the Crown, that is of the monarch. And as far as I am aware, Captain Cunningham, you are merely the cousin of a lord, and therefore unless the king sees fit to compensate you for your military service to him, you will receive nothing.”

  The solicitor sipped his coffee and watched in silence whilst a variety of expressions crossed the young soldier’s face.

  “I have an urgent appointment with the Duke of Cumberland next Wednesday,” Richard said finally. “I am sure that if I explain the situation to him, he will be sympathetic to me and will ask His Majesty for the necessary permissions.”

  “Do you know why His Royal Highness has summoned you?” Mr Cox asked.

  “I…er…” Richard stuttered, cursing that he never had been able to lie readily.

  “Ah. Then if he has summoned you for a positive reason, maybe you would be successful in your request. But in this matter at least, I am pleased to say I can be of assistance.” He smiled.

  Richard brightened.

  “I can save you the effort of making such a request by informing you that your sister’s dowry is no longer in my possession,” Mr Cox finished.

  “No,” Richard said, deeply shocked. “It’s not possible. Sir Anthony signed it all over to Beth. She can’t have spent it all. She was never interested in material things. Has she deposited it elsewhere?”

  “I have no idea where she has deposited it. That is not my concern. She came to me some considerable time ago and told me she wished to withdraw all of it. In guineas.”

  “And you let her have it?” Richard said.

  “I tried to talk her out of it, but she was most adamant. I had no choice in the matter. She had all the relevant documents signed by Sir Anthony and duly witnessed.”

  “But…he’s a traitor!” Richard cried.

  “So you say. But I was hardly to know that at the time. I have done nothing wrong.”

  “You’re telling m
e she took twenty thousand pounds in gold out of the bank and just walked away with it? No one could carry that much gold about their person. It would be impossible. I don’t believe you.”

  “You may believe what you wish, Captain,” Mr Cox said icily. “I assure you she made all the necessary arrangements to transport the gold. And I also assure you I have all the legal documentation regarding the transaction, all in order. If you want to take the matter further, then I wish you luck. Now I will wish you good day. I am sure you want to make an early start for your urgent appointment in London.” He stood, forcing Richard to follow suit. “Your servant, sir,” he said, opening the door. Richard walked past him, then stopped on the threshold. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said, incensed. “You never did like me. Well, you’ve not heard the last of this, I promise you.”

  “Captain Cunningham,” said Mr Cox, “It would give me the greatest pleasure to watch you fight a legal battle that would no doubt drag on for years, and which you could not possibly win. But I would suggest that you concede victory in this to your sister, who always did possess the superior intellect, and confine yourself to martial affairs at which I’m sure you excel. I will not take up any more of your time.”

  Richard stalked down the steps in a blind rage. One day he would find his bitch of a sister, and when he did he would tear her limb from limb. He mounted his horse and pulled so hard on the reins that the stallion reared up in pain, almost unseating him. He tore down the street at a gallop, heedless of the people who had to leap to safety.

  Damn Beth, and Anthony, and Manchester, and that fucking horrible house that he’d never had a moment’s happiness in since his mother had died. He would go back there now and burn the damn place to the ground. Then he would do everything in his power to find Beth and that simpering bastard she married, and when he did he would kill them himself. To hell with the reward. Nothing on earth would give him more pleasure than to watch them writhe in agony at his feet, begging for mercy.

  By the time he got back to the house he had calmed down a little, and had decided not to burn it to the ground after all. That would be stupid. He could sell it, and the money from it could be put towards finding his sister and her so-called husband. In that he had not changed his mind. He turned from the house and rode to the Ring o’ Bells, where he ate a very fine roast beef lunch and drank several glasses of rum punch.

  He would set off for London this afternoon. But before he did that, he had a house call to make. He smiled. This would be fun, and might yield some useful information too.

  * * *

  Scotland

  As threatened, Alex did rise from his bed very late indeed on the morning after his return to the MacGregor fold. This was partly because it was pitch black in the cave, so the sun rising over the mountain failed to rouse him, partly because he had been completely exhausted and not a little drunk by the time he retired, and partly because his whole clan had crept silently out of the cave at daybreak so as to let him sleep on undisturbed.

  By the time he finally staggered out of the cave, blinking in the sunlight, it was nearly midday, and most of the clan was sprawled around the saucer-shaped depression, relaxing. Some of the women had gone down to the loch to wash clothes accompanied by their husbands, who were keeping watch. Angus, Iain, Graeme, Allan, Dougal and his two brothers, among others, were busy sharpening their swords and dirks, and checking their pistols were serviceable. Which left him with no need to ask who intended to accompany him in his war of attrition. He nodded to them as he passed them on his way to the campfire, where some oatcakes were cooking on a hot stone. He liberated one and went to sit down, tossing it from hand to hand until it cooled enough for him to eat.

  He was happy with those who had chosen to follow him. All of them except Allan had a personal reason to hate the redcoats as well as a political one. Iain because of Maggie’s death, Angus because of his blood oath, Graeme because Beth had been as a daughter to him, and Dougal and his brothers because it was a redcoat’s seduction of their sister Jeannie that had led indirectly to her death. Which left…

  “Where’s Kenneth?” Alex shouted across to Angus. “Is he joining us to fight?”

  “He’s away down the loch side. He said he had to have a wee blether wi’ someone before he made his decision.”

  Alex’s brow furrowed. Kenneth never consulted anyone before he made decisions, except his chieftain, but only then if it was a clan matter. Puzzled, he considered heading down to the loch, but then thought better of it and sitting back, bit into the oatcake. He had taken Kenneth’s participation for granted, he realised, but if he chose not to fight they would manage without him. It would be a loss, though. Not only was he a formidable fighter, but he had the ability to scare people half to death just by looking at them. He would find out what was going on soon enough, no doubt.

  The formidable fighter was currently looking down at the ground and feeling as nervous as a small child caught with his hand in the sweetie jar, as he stood on the banks of the loch some short distance from the women doing their laundry. Facing him was Janet, who stood with her hand on her hip and an expression of utter incredulity on her face.

  “Have ye totally taken leave of your senses?” she asked him.

  “Isd!” he said, glancing round to see if the others had heard. If they had, they were making a good pretence of disinterest. He turned his attention back to the subject of his proposal. “I…er…if ye need a wee while to think about it, I’ll leave ye alone,” he offered.

  “I dinna need any time at all to think about it,” she said. “The answer’s no, of course.”

  “Janet, I’m no’ a bad man,” he said. “And I’m good wi’ bairns, ye ken that. And –”

  “Is this some sort of dare?” she asked suspiciously. “Has Angus put ye up to this?”

  “No!” Kenneth protested.

  “Because if he has, I’ll skelp the wee gomerel, big as he is.”

  “Janet, it’s no’ a dare. Nobody kens that I’ve asked ye. It was my idea.”

  Janet looked up at him sceptically.

  “So ye’re telling me ye love me, are ye?” she said.

  “No! I mean…aye, I love ye in a fashion, ye ken. But as I said, I’m good wi’ bairns, though Jeannie and I never had any, and I ken what it’s like to lose the one ye love, and I thought that if we were to marry we could be company for each other, and I could be a faither tae the wee ones.”

  He was serious. And, giant though he was, he was sensitive and shy, though normally he hid it better than he was doing right now. Janet’s face softened.

  “Come here, ye great dunderheid,” she said, reaching out to him and wrapping her arms round his waist. She laid her head on his big chest and for a minute was soothed by the sound of his heart thumping against his ribs. He put one arm round her very tentatively, as though afraid of crushing her. She gave his waist a squeeze and then let him go and stepped back.

  “Ye’ve a good heart, Kenneth, man,” she said. “And I’d say aye to ye, but for two reasons.”

  He looked down at her expectantly.

  “Firstly, there’s a group of men up there sharpening their weapons for a fight, and waiting for you to join them. They’ll be sore disappointed if ye stay here, and ye’ll regret it forever if ye dinna go with them to avenge wee Jeannie’s death.”

  He made to speak, but she stood on tiptoe, and reaching up put her hand gently over his mouth.

  “I ken ye dinna speak of it, and I ken why,” she said gently, “and she was wrong in what she did. But it wasna fighting fair tae seduce her into betraying us the way that soldier did. Jeannie was a bonny woman, but easily led, and he took advantage of that. Ye’re right to want to avenge her, and Alex needs ye with him. So go.”

  He waited a moment.

  “Ye said there were two reasons,” he prompted finally.

  “Aye,” she said, “I’m already married. It’s against the laws of G
od and man to have two husbands.”

  “Janet, a ghraidh, Simon’s no’ coming back,” Kenneth said softly. “It’s been over four months now.”

  “Ye didna see him fall at Culloden, did ye?” she said.

  “No, but –”

  “Well, then.”

  “I didna see Duncan fall, either, or Robbie Og, but I ken they’re dead. Simon’s –”

  “No’ dead,” Janet interrupted. “He may be a prisoner, but he’s no’ dead. If he was, I’d ken it, in here.” She hit her chest with her fist. “He’s coming back to me, and I’ll wait for him until he does. So thank ye for the kind offer, and it was kind, but no. Away and fight wi’ the others.”

  “She’s convinced that Simon’s alive and coming back to her,” Kenneth said a few minutes later after he’d climbed back up to the others and told them of his decision to fight. He was sitting with the other men a short distance from the rest of the clan, and had told them of his proposition to her. “She said that she’d ken in her heart if he was dead.”

  “Well, it is possible that he’s been taken prisoner,” Angus put in. “If so, he could be in jail for years or transported to the Colonies.”

  “Or hung,” Graeme added.

  “Whichever way, he’s no’ coming back,” Alex said.

  “He could. Remember those nine MacGregors that escaped from Dumbarton Castle in February? They dug their way out through the walls,” Angus pointed out.

  “Dumbarton Castle is a ruin. A good kick and the whole thing would fall down. Dinna be telling her that and raising her hopes,” Alex said.