Pursuit of Princes (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 5)

by Julia Brannan

  She turned back.

  “How very helpful! I would be most obliged if you would accompany me to Mr Carlton’s, yes,” she said, smiling.

  They crossed the green together and knocked at the door, which was opened by a maidservant, who curtseyed, and on hearing that Lady Caroline Harlow wished to ask a question of her master hurried off, returning moments later with a portly middle-aged man, who bowed obsequiously.

  “What a pleasant surprise, Lady Caroline,” he gushed. “May I offer my congratulations to Sir Edwin on his recent knighthood?”

  “Why, thank you, Mr Carlton. How kind,” Caroline replied.

  “Would you care for some refreshment? Girl,” he said to the hovering maid, “go and fetch tea and –”

  “No, no, please do not trouble yourself,” Caroline said. “I merely wished to enquire after the health of a somewhat misguided acquaintance of mine, who I believe may have been in your care for a time. You would perhaps know her as Lady Elizabeth Peters, or possibly Elizabeth or Beth Cunningham. A petite young lady with silver-blonde hair.”

  She watched with interest as a variety of expressions crossed his face.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Caroline,” he said after a pause. “I cannot help you, I’m afraid. I know nothing of such a person.”

  “Ah, I see,” Caroline replied. She took another coin from her reticule, making sure that its denomination was visible to all, then turned back to the young warder, who was still standing on the step, having not been invited in. “Thank you,” she said, handing it to him. “You have been most helpful. It is such a pleasant day for the time of year, I think I will take a turn around the green and take the air before I return to my carriage. If there are no objections?” Her tone implied that the warder would be unwise to answer in the negative.

  “No, of course not, my lady,” said Mr Carlton, bowing again and eyeing the lost sovereign with avarice. Not enough avarice to tempt him to amend his story, though.

  She closed her reticule with a snap and walked out onto the green.

  She had been walking for some fifteen minutes in the crisp air, and was starting to wonder whether she should just go back to her carriage now and revise her plan, when the green-painted door she’d been keeping an eye on opened and the maid stepped out. Caroline immediately cut her circuit of the green short and strode down the path until she was out of view of the house. Then she stopped and waited for the maid to catch her up.

  “You have some information for me?” Caroline said without preamble. “If you have you may rely on my discretion, and you will be rewarded appropriately, of course.”

  The maid curtseyed and looked distinctly nervous. She glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot and then spoke, softly and urgently.

  “There was a young lady here, my lady,” she said after a moment. “But she’s not here now.”

  “When was she here?” Caroline asked.

  “A few months ago, June time. In July she was taken to see Prince William, two days after he came back to London, and she didn’t come back here then.”

  Damn.

  “Ah. Well, thank you.” Caroline made to open her reticule.

  “She was taken to Newgate Prison, my lady. The soldiers brought her back once, to dress for another interview, but then the next time they sent me to Newgate with some clothes for her, and I helped her to dress. I haven’t seen her since then or heard anything about her.”

  “And when was this, that you went to Newgate?”

  “August, my lady.”

  “How did she seem?”

  “Very cheerful the first time, when they brought her here. I think she sold the first dress she had to buy food and suchlike, because she was wearing stays and petticoats. She was very friendly, told me…never mind, my lady.”

  “What did she tell you? It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone.”

  The maid hesitated.

  “She told me that if the servants were betting as to whether she’d become Prince William’s wife or…er…mistress, that I should bet she would become neither.”

  In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Caroline laughed. That was Beth all over.

  “Did you? Place a bet?” she asked.

  “No, my lady! I didn’t think it was right. I tried to find out about her, after, but everyone was told to keep quiet and not say anything about her.”

  “But you’re telling me. Why?” Caroline asked.

  “She was good to me. She asked my name and ordered chocolate for me the first time, and then tea the second time when she was brought back here to dress. And she talked to me as though I was her equal, even though she was a lady. And at Newgate she apologised for not being able to get chocolate for me. She thought of me, even though she seemed upset about something. She hadn’t seemed upset before. I hope you find her, my lady.”

  “So do I,” Caroline said. “So do I.”

  * * *

  “From there I went straight to Newgate Prison. Well, no, I stopped and bought some provisions on the way, and I pulled at my hair a bit, so I looked a little eccentric.”

  “Eccentric?” Edwin said. When he’d returned home an hour before, he’d been overjoyed to see his wife, who he had missed greatly, and had looked forward to hearing news of Summer Hill. The expression he now wore conveyed another emotion entirely, but he had agreed not to verbally express his opinion until she’d finished her story.

  “Yes. You know, the way those bored society women with no common sense look. The ones who have a great fervour to help the needy, but have no idea what the hell they’re doing?”

  Edwin laughed. Caroline had just described half the women he had to deal with on a regular basis.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “I knew there was no point in asking for Beth, so I ignored the keeper’s lodge and went straight to the prison, said I’d come to ease the affliction of the poor misguided rebel women, who had paid the ultimate price for following their men into folly and treason. The turnkey offered to take the basket of food off me and said he’d ensure that it got to the unfortunate women, but I insisted on seeing them myself. I flashed him a half crown and said I’d been up most of the night preparing an inspiring lecture that would make them see the error of their ways.”

  “And did you make them see the error of their ways?” Edwin asked, still grinning.

  “No. He told me that there were no rebel women prisoners in Newgate at the moment. I told him that my friend had visited them in August and there were certainly a number then. And he said there had been, but they’d all been transferred elsewhere a while ago, possibly to the transport ships. I think he was telling the truth.”

  “Please tell me you gave him the provisions for the use of the other prisoners, and left,” Edwin said.

  “I gave him the provisions for the use of the other prisoners, and the half crown, and left,” Caroline repeated.

  “Thank God for that,” Edwin said.

  “And then I went to Tilbury,” Caroline continued. Edwin sighed, and dropped his head into his hands.

  “They do boat trips, Edwin,” she said, leaning forward. “Boat trips, so that genteel people can sail past the ships where hundreds of people are being kept in unspeakable conditions, so they can shudder delicately with excited horror at having been so close to an actual Jacobite, and then go home and tell themselves and others that this is a fair and just punishment for people who dared to rebel against His Most Wise and Gracious Majesty.”

  Edwin lifted his head.

  “What’s the difference between people doing that and going to see the lunatics in Bedlam?” he asked.

  Caroline coloured.

  “None, I suppose. But when I did that I was young and stupid, and I hadn’t met you. And I suppose if I’d actually known someone in the asylum I would have felt differently. I feel differently now, anyway. I wanted to tell them that these were human beings, including women and innocent children that they were mocking, and that it was shameful behaviour.”


  “You didn’t actually say that, did you?”

  “No, of course I didn’t!” Caroline said. “They wouldn’t have heard me if I had, anyway. Most of them were too busy vomiting over the edge of the boat,” she added with obvious schadenfreude.

  “Was the river choppy, then?”

  “No. They were being sick because they couldn’t stand the smell coming from the ships, even from a distance. I have never smelt anything so putrid in my life, not even in Bedlam. There are people, men, women, children, being kept in absolute hell. This is not a just punishment. This is savagery. I was not the only one who thought that way, either, by the end of the trip.”

  “The prisons are overcrowded, and they have to be kept somewhere until we can bring them to trial,” Edwin said, still with his politician’s head on. “There are so many of them. The system of lotting is going well, though, and the situation should ease soon, once sufficient numbers have been transported, and –”

  “I know that,” Caroline interrupted. “And I know that our prisons were not designed for such a huge influx of people. But they could be allowed up on deck for air, Edwin. They could be fed properly and allowed to wash themselves, instead of being left to lie in their own piss and shit and starve to death!”

  “Caro!” Edwin said, shocked by her language.

  “You didn’t see it. You should see it,” she continued fiercely. “This is what the government you’re part of are sanctioning. They wouldn’t let me on board, said it was too dangerous. They told me that even the hardened sailors are struggling to keep their food down because of the smell from below decks, but that soon it won’t be such a problem, because they’re dying like flies down there. And yet every day I’m hearing about how savage and barbaric the North Britons are, and how Cumberland is right to be severe on them. If we can treat helpless prisoners like this in London, I can’t begin to imagine what’s going on in Scotland, with bastards like Scott and Hawley allowed free rein. And Richard,” she added.

  “It’s true there are complaints about the situation in Scotland, and they are being looked into,” Edwin said defensively. “But with Charles back in France and being feted all over Paris as a hero, there’s a real chance that King Louis might actually decide to finance another expedition in the spring. We have to make sure the rebels can’t rise again and the only way we can do that is by brutal means. These people don’t acknowledge the law. They’re born and bred to be warriors. For them the only law is what their chieftain tells them to do. If he tells them to fight for the Stuarts, then that’s what they do. And the only way to bring them into line is to destroy the power of the chiefs, to crush the clan system, once and for all.”

  “I said something similar to Sarah last night when she told me that they’re calling William ‘Butcher Cumberland’. And I understand that you have to take harsh measures to show we mean business. I said that to you when we went to see the Manchester men executed, if you remember. You were shocked by how they suffered,” Caroline said.

  “I was very upset, I admit. But I was more shocked at the enjoyment people got from seeing them suffer. I don’t think that traitors and criminals should be glorified. But I do believe that if we are to have peace in this country, then the Jacobites must be crushed, once and for all.”

  “I agree. But you must also take into account that public opinion is easily swayed. In April William was the hero of Culloden; less than five months later he’s the Butcher of Culloden. You said yourself that if the Jacobites had carried on to London instead of turning back, the mob may well have welcomed Charles, because he knows how to act as people expect royalty to.

  “It’s also becoming known that Charles treated the prisoners he took with respect, and released many of them on parole. And that the barbarian savages didn’t rape and pillage as they invaded, but for the most part treated the citizens of the towns they occupied with respect. In the meantime everyone’s heard about the ‘pacification’ of the Highlands, that our soldiers are raping women, murdering children, burning their houses, and leaving the old and weak to starve to death. This does not give a good impression of the Hanoverians, Edwin, either at home or abroad.”

  Edwin sighed.

  “That’s true. But remember, in his treatment of the prisoners and the people he met, Charles was trying to win them over to his cause by showing them how just and merciful he was.”

  “And King George is trying to show that he’s the better choice of king by being unjust and barbaric,” Caroline countered. “I think Charles had the right idea. And we both know that if he gains enough support from the French to make this an equal fight, and succeeds in taking the throne, Britain will be at the mercy of the whim of an autocratic hereditary monarch. And that is why we support Hanover, because we want the king’s rule to be tempered by an elected government. But that government has to show it can govern better than Charles would.”

  “But Charles wouldn’t be king,” Edwin pointed out.

  “I think he would, if James had any sense. But that’s not my point. My point is that you can only go so far in brutalising the losers before public opinion turns in favour of the underdog. I’ve seen it time and time again at executions. And we are rapidly going that way. The main reason the common people don’t want the Stuarts back is not because they fear autocracy; they have no more say in electing the government than they do in choosing a king. Right now they believe the Pretender, once king, will force them to become Roman Catholics. If the Stuarts can convince the mob that they will practice religious toleration, they could gain the upper hand. Because Charles has already proved he can lead, and lead mercifully. And Cumberland is proving the opposite.”

  Edwin, deeply uncomfortable, could not argue, because he was hearing similar stories in parliament. Every day new reports of atrocities committed in the name of keeping the peace were drifting down from Scotland. And he had heard rumours about prison conditions, but he was aware of his sensitivity and tried to curb it when in parliament. This was an exceptional situation. It would ease, and hopefully soon.

  “Did you find anything out about Beth?” he asked.

  “No. It seems that she has simply disappeared.”

  “I am sorry,” Edwin said, and was. “She may well be dead, you know.”

  “I know. It seems likely, from what Tom said. But I would like to know for certain.”

  “Well, you have done everything you can,” Edwin said reassuringly. He looked at his wife; she did not look reassured. “I can make enquiries if you like, see if I can find anything out,” he offered. “I would like to know what has happened to her as well. But I will have to be very careful.”

  “No,” Caroline said. “It’s too risky. You have just been knighted for your loyal service to the king. If you start asking about the welfare of a known rebel, you’ll be putting your career at risk.”

  “I will be very discreet,” he said.

  “There is something strange going on here,” she continued thoughtfully, as though she hadn’t heard him. “How is it that nobody knew Beth had been arrested, that she was being kept in the Tower, and in Newgate? It’s virtually impossible to keep anything a secret, but even you didn’t know. Clearly no one wants you, or anyone to know. So you mustn’t ask, mustn’t tell anyone at all that you know anything. Leave it to me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “But if you’re not involved in it, if word gets out that I’m trying to find Beth, you can be deeply shocked at the behaviour of your wayward wife, and discipline her accordingly.”

  Edwin tried to imagine disciplining his wayward wife, and failed. It would take a far braver man than he was to attempt it. He had not married her for her docility. He had married her because she was strong, courageous, and loyal to the death to those she cared for. And she cared for Beth, in spite of everything. And so did he. So he wasted no breath asking her not to pursue this, because he knew she could not do otherwise. It was one of the things he loved about her.


  “Be careful, please,” he said instead. “If you find out she’s alive and where she is held, we can make sure that she is as comfortable as possible. But we cannot interfere with the legal process.”

  “I won’t do anything reckless, I promise,” she said.

  And with that she steered the conversation into calmer waters, and they spent the rest of the evening poring over the plans for the landscaping of Summer Hill.

  * * *

  The following morning after Edwin had gone out, Caroline lingered at the breakfast table, drinking chocolate and weighing up her options.

  Her first thought had been to approach her family. Not those who had alienated her after her marriage to Edwin; although they were now coming round since Edwin’s star was rising, they were nowhere near agreeing to help her locate a prominent rebel. And in any case, she didn’t want to be beholden to any of them.

  There was Aunt Harriet, of course. She knew everyone and was more capable of putting the fear of God into people than anyone Caroline knew, in spite of her age and eccentric manners. But if Beth had been held and tortured, then it must be because she’d refused to divulge anything about the identity or whereabouts of Anthony. Harriet was a renowned man-hater; she would most likely say the idiot deserved everything she got and should betray the scoundrel immediately. And Harriet had never met Beth, so would have no idea what a special person she was.

  No. Caroline had to find someone who was influential enough to countermand orders from Newcastle, possibly from Cumberland himself, and who had known Beth personally and had liked her.

  She poured herself more chocolate and sat for a while staring unseeingly out of the window. Then she called for her carriage to be made ready. It was a long shot, but in fact the only possible one to attempt.

  Having flouted all the rules of society by arriving at Leicester House unannounced, Caroline was kept waiting for only a minute before being shown by a footman into the library, where a small, swarthy-skinned man was sitting reading a book by the window. He rose as she entered and she curtseyed deeply to him.