“Happy birthday, Your Highness,” Beth said. “I am sorry I am a little late.”
No response. The proud father sighed.
“Eddie did say that he particularly wished to see you,” he said. “I of course also wished to see you. I have grown fond of you in the last months, and am so happy that you are about to put your future happiness first. I am sure it is what your husband would have wished.”
He was a kind man, still referring to Anthony as her husband, even though his brother and Newcastle had both made a point of telling her she was his whore and therefore ruined.
“It is what Anthony would have wished, yes,” she said. “He told me I should betray him if I was ever arrested.”
“It is to your credit that you have held out for so long,” the prince replied. “Although they are my enemies, I admire the loyalty that both Anthony and Charles inspire in their friends and followers. There was a considerable reward out for the capture of both, but no one has ever claimed it.”
Beth looked at this scion of Hanover, who had damaged his reputation to save her life.
“Your Highness,” she said impulsively. “I have made no secret of the fact that I am a Jacobite, and have spent the last years actively working to remove your family from the throne. I will always believe that the Stuarts are the rightful monarchs of Great Britain, and if they are restored to their place, I will rejoice. I do not mean to insult you. I am just stating my opinion. But I have to say, with the exception of King James and his son, that you are the most fitted to succeed to the throne, and if I have to accept a Hanoverian monarchy, then you are the only member of that family under whom I would be happy to serve.”
The prince smiled.
“I am not insulted, Elizabeth. I am honoured that someone as committed as yourself to the Stuart cause considers me a worthy alternative to my cousin. No,” he continued as she made to speak, “I am not being sarcastic. I know what a compliment you are paying me, and I accept it as such. I hope one day to be a worthy king, and when I am I also hope that my eldest son, indeed all my children, will enjoy a cordial relationship with me, as I unfortunately do not with my father, as everyone knows.”
“I am sure they will. Your devotion to your family is well known, Your Highness,” Beth said.
“I want you to know that once your interview is over, I will try to obtain a pardon for you,” he said.
“No,” Beth answered, to his surprise. “You have done more than I ever would have expected. After today I want you to forget about me. I want no more help, from you or anyone else. I will accept my fate, whatever that is to be.”
“You feel guilt for what you are about to do. But you do not need to. I know of no other woman who would have endured what you have and refused to give up her husband. If he is alive, I am sure Anthony will understand what you are doing.”
“Anthony is dead,” she replied flatly. “I have resisted accepting that for so long. But now I know it to be true.”
“He thinks of you,” Prince Edward said suddenly, making both adults jump. He had been so silent they’d forgotten he was there. He turned from his perusal of the street and directed his gaze at the fireplace. “All the time.”
“Who does?” his father asked, puzzled.
“He doesn’t know, you see, that’s why,” he said absently.
“Eddie, please don’t speak in riddles. What do you mean?” Frederick asked his son. But Edward seemed to have lost interest, and had already turned back to the window. “I am sorry,” the prince said. “He can be a little…er…odd at times. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“He’s fine,” Beth said, looking at the boy strangely. “He warned me that Lord Daniel was going to hurt me when we were playing cricket, just before he threw the ball at me.”
The prince laughed.
“When in fact it was the other way round, as I remember. It took him a long time to heal from the wound. His reputation has never recovered! But now I think we have taken up enough of your time. I’m sure you wish to prepare yourself for your interview.”
“I do need to,” Beth said, pulling herself back to the moment. “In fact I would appreciate your opinion on my choice of outfits. I am undecided at the moment.”
He advised the navy blue and white striped silk as being the most appropriate, and wished her the very best of luck, stating that he would honour her wish not to help, if that was what she really wanted, but he would most certainly never forget her, and would be delighted to hear from her when she wished to renew their friendship.
And then he left, taking his son with him, and Beth turned her attention to dressing and calming her nerves in readiness for the forthcoming interview, which she knew was not going to be easy and in which she would have to employ all the skills Sir Anthony Peters had so painstakingly taught her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Whitehall, London
“Good morning, Miss Cunningham,” the Duke of Newcastle said, by way of greeting the young woman who had just entered his chambers. He was hopeful that this interview would be more productive than the previous one had been.
“Good morning,” Beth said coolly, and without curtseying or being invited she walked across the room and took a seat opposite the duke, who was seated, as was his custom, behind his imposing walnut desk.
“I take it you do not object to my clerk, Benjamin’s presence? He will record the details of our interview,” Newcastle said. Beth turned to the corner of the room, where a young man was sitting behind a smaller, sloped desk, quill and paper at the ready. She smiled at him, a smile of warmth and friendliness, and he inhaled sharply, felled by her outstanding beauty, outlined perfectly by the shaft of early April sunshine falling onto her face, which highlighted the glossy silver-blonde cap of hair, the perfect skin, and the cerulean blue of her eyes.
“I trust that this time Benjamin will be gainfully employed?” the duke’s voice cut in. Benjamin blushed and bent his head immediately to his task. Beth turned to face her interrogator.
“Indeed he will. I have information for you which I am sure you will wish to act upon immediately,” she reassured him.
“Excellent!” he said, relaxing a little. “I am glad to see you looking so well.”
“I confess that I am surprised to hear that,” Beth answered. “After all, you did your very best to achieve my death. I expected you to be somewhat disappointed rather than happy by my current state of health.”
“I assure you, Miss Cunningham, that your brother acted completely contrary to my orders. I asked him to have a word with you in the hopes that familial advice would make you see sense, when it seemed nothing else could. I was both shocked and dismayed when I heard of your injuries. Captain Cunningham was severely disciplined for his behaviour.”
Beth smiled.
“I am sure he was. Did you believe then that my injuries would best be treated by my being incarcerated in a damp, cold cell and slowly starved to death?”
“Mr Jones –”
“-has been severely disciplined. I am sure,” Beth interrupted, to the duke’s astonishment. No one ever dared to interrupt him. “Your Grace, I am not a fool; please do not treat me as one,” she continued. “Mr Jones was ordered by someone in very high authority, not only to starve me to death, but to hide the knowledge of my whereabouts from anyone who asked about me. Otherwise he would not have dared to attempt to lie to Prince Frederick himself. My brother is a brute, and has good reason to wish me dead. I know that you did not know that when you sent him to me. But there is only one thing Richard cares about, and that is military advancement. He tortured me because he believed that he had permission to do so from someone who could positively influence his career.”
“I do assure you that I gave him no such permission,” the duke said, frantically indicating to Benjamin to stop transcribing the interview.
“Very well, then. If I am to believe you, the only other people who have such influence and who knew I was a prisoner, are the Duke of C
umberland or the Elector. Are you telling me that one of them ordered that I be tortured and then starved to death?”
“I am telling you nothing of the sort. Indeed, madam, it is supposed to be you who are telling me something today,” Newcastle replied hotly.
Beth sat back in her chair and folded her hands demurely in her lap.
“You are right. Benjamin, you can start writing again. I am sure His Grace will want what I am about to say to be recorded.”
To the duke’s irritation Benjamin immediately picked up his quill in response to her command, only belatedly realising that he should have waited for the duke to give the order. Newcastle nodded curtly to him, and the clerk bent his head over the paper.
“When you ordered my brother to have ‘a word’ with me, you made him very happy. As soon as he entered my cell I knew he would try to kill me, because it would probably be the only opportunity he would ever have of stopping me from telling you what I know. Unfortunately for him I survived, and after what he did to me I no longer see any reason to protect him. My brother is a traitor, Your Grace.”
The duke looked at her disbelievingly.
“You wish me to believe that your brother, who is known for his devotion to the army and his zeal in pursuing rebels, is a Jacobite?”
“No. Richard is not a Jacobite,” Beth responded. “But he knew I was, and has known it since he came home after our father died. He also knew Sir Anthony was a Jacobite, and that he was a spy, although he does not know his true identity.” She looked across at Benjamin, who was writing fiercely, and waited a moment for him to catch up.
“When my father died, he left very little money. But, as is widely known, he did leave twenty thousand pounds in trust for me as a dowry, which could only be accessed either when I married or when I reached the age of thirty. If I died before either of those things happened, the money would go to building a foundling hospital. Richard was desperate to purchase a commission, and was willing to overlook the fact that I was both a Roman Catholic and had great sympathy for the Stuarts, because he believed that I could make a good marriage to someone who could help him advance in the army. As you can imagine, I was averse to this, but as he displayed so well in Newgate last August, he could be very persuasive.
“When Sir Anthony showed an interest in me, Richard was ecstatic. Anthony was well known for his generosity and his stupidity. When my brother discovered he was a Jacobite spy, Anthony offered to pay for his promotion if he would keep quiet. And Richard agreed, because he knew it was his only chance of getting preferment, as he had no money of his own. Anthony subsequently paid for another promotion, for the same reason.
“When Lord Daniel discovered that Anthony was a spy, it was Richard who warned us we were about to be denounced. He was terrified that if we were caught we might betray him. He gave us the chance to get away, and I was very grateful for that. Until our last meeting. After that I have no reason to be grateful to him ever again.”
Newcastle sat in silence for a moment, digesting this unexpected information.
“How do I know that you are not inventing this out of pure malice against your brother?” he asked. “After all, if nobody else knew that Sir Anthony was a spy, how did Captain Cunningham find out?”
“He came into the library at Lord Edward’s one evening and found me with a rosary. He took it from me and threw it into the fire. Sir Anthony disturbed us in the middle of our argument, and we left. But a little later I went back to see if there was anything left of the rosary. It held great sentimental value for me. Sir Anthony was still there, and we spoke together. Unknown to us, Richard was listening outside the door. He threatened to denounce us then, but Anthony agreed to pay for his commission if he would keep quiet. We already intended to marry, but thought it better to do it quickly, as it would seem more natural for a man to pay for his brother-in-law’s commission, and of course, once married we had access to the dowry, which helped to fund not only Richard’s commissions, but also the uprising.”
“Do you have any proof of this?” the duke asked.
Beth considered for a minute.
“No written evidence, no. But it is a matter of record that Anthony paid for both of Richard’s commissions, and that he funded his lifestyle until he married Anne Redburn and became wealthy in his own right. Also, if you interview Richard and ask him about the library and the rosary, you will be able to see for yourself if he is lying. His colour alone will tell you that, but even as a small child he always gave himself away in an untruth. There is a muscle in his cheek which twitches whenever he’s lying. He’s quite unaware of it, but Father always knew whether he was guilty of some misdemeanour or not by that.”
The Duke of Newcastle pursed his lips.
“Benjamin, will you step outside for a moment?” he said.
The clerk looked somewhat surprised at this unexpected command, but obeyed immediately. Once the door was closed, Newcastle sat forward and leaned his elbows on the desk.
“As you know, when I asked your brother to speak to you, I did not know you were with child,” he said softly. “I discovered that later, and once I knew I ordered that the interrogation be stopped. I was sorry that you miscarried.”
“I’m sure you were,” Beth replied. “You hoped to use the baby to blackmail me into betraying its father.”
The duke ignored that comment.
“Afterwards the captain told me that he had not intended to injure you badly, merely to force you to tell him the identity of Sir Anthony. He said he did not know you were pregnant.”
Beth laughed.
“Of course he told you that. He would hardly reveal that I told him myself I was pregnant and begged him not to hurt the child. Nor would he tell you that he was not interested in knowing about Sir Anthony. He knows Sir Anthony could incriminate him if he was captured. Why do you think he threw the guard out of my cell? All he wanted to know before he murdered me was the location of my dowry. He had been to visit our solicitor in Manchester, who told him I had withdrawn it all. I’m sure Mr Cox will corroborate that. Once Richard knew that the money had been spent, all that remained was for him to kill me, making it look as though he had just been a little over-zealous in his interrogation.”
“Very well, then,” said the duke. “Let us assume that you are telling me the truth for once.”
“I have always told you the truth,” Beth replied.
“The best way you could prove that the information you are giving me about your brother is true, and not merely malicious,” Newcastle continued, “would be to cooperate with me fully by now revealing the identity of Sir Anthony.”
“As I said, Your Grace,” Beth replied, “I have always told you the truth, and I will continue to do so now. Richard and I have never been close and I will not deny that I despise my brother for what he did to me. Richard cares about only two things; money and power. He has now obtained the first by marrying Anne Redburn, although he still wanted my dowry to spite our father, who left him nothing. The second he is obtaining by rising higher in the military. If you wish to disregard what I have told you today, and are happy to have a man who is willing to compromise his loyalty to the Hanoverians in the pursuit of power, then so be it. It has certainly worked to the advantage of the Stuarts so far, and may do so again in the future. As for my husband, I thought I had already made it very clear that I would never betray him, under any circumstances. If you think there is anything whatsoever that you can do to change my mind on that, you are very much mistaken. I have told you everything I am ever going to tell you. It is up to you to act on it or not, as you choose. And now I have spoken my last words to you.”
She sat back calmly, folded her hands once again in her lap, bestowed her cool blue gaze on him and remained silent while he urged her to reconsider, advised her that she would neither be pardoned nor returned to the care of Sir Edwin Harlow, and finally, called in the guards and told them to take her to the Tower for the present. Then she stood and silently left the room
.
When she had gone the duke sat for a while, pondering his options. Not regarding Captain Cunningham; he knew what he would do there. He would write an urgent letter to Colonel Hutchinson telling him what Miss Cunningham had said and ordering him to interview the captain immediately, and that if he had any suspicions at all, to send him under guard to London for further questioning. No, that was an easy decision. Hutchinson was an intelligent man of integrity; if Cunningham was hiding something he would certainly find out.
The issue that concerned the duke now was the sister. She posed far more danger to him personally. If that idiot keeper Jones had not brought a surgeon to her directly after the interview with Cunningham, she would certainly have died and saved him a good deal of trouble. But as it was she had survived and here she was, a constant thorn in his side.
If it came to it, no one would believe the word of the keeper if he said the duke had ordered her to be kept in solitary confinement and deprived of food. Indeed he had not ordered it; he had merely suggested it.
But Elizabeth Cunningham was another matter. She had friends in high places; Sir Edwin Harlow, a rising star in the Whig government; his wife Caroline, whose family, if somewhat odd, were influential and indisputably loyal to the Hanoverians. And the heir to the throne had actually rescued her, and sent his surgeon to ensure her recovery! They would certainly listen to her if she told them that he had ordered her torture and starvation, even though he had covered his tracks as far as possible.
It was true that she was a confirmed traitor and that her word was unreliable; but she was also beautiful. There was an increasing outcry against the brutality of the treatment being meted out to the defeated Jacobites in general; imagine the damage a beautiful, intelligent, high-born woman could do to his popularity, were she allowed to. She could not destroy him, but she could certainly cause a lot of damage.
The duke weighed up his options.
He could not return her to Newgate hoping she would die there, not now it was known that she was a prisoner. She had already cheated death twice. And she was of noble birth. He could not keep her in the Tower either, where she could and would be visited, and able to spread her poison against him.
Pursuit of Princes (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 5) Page 45