A Sister's Secret

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘Damn my heart, hand and eye,’ said Cumberland, ‘ye are a saucy trollop, an impudent baggage. Yet damned if ye ain’t also the one woman to outshine all others. Ye’ve a rare and tantalizing beauty. Ye’ll recall I once declared a loving interest in ye?’

  ‘I recall, sir, that you once attempted wicked, forceful seduction. I recall, sir, that on another occasion you engaged with my late husband in an outrageous wager, a wager which was a shame to both of you.’

  ‘Outrageous?’ He laughed; he slapped a muscular thigh. ‘Come, madam, we ain’t living among your long-faced American Puritans. Ye’ll know I’m disinclined to pursue a reluctant woman …’

  ‘No,’ she said, fearless enough to interrupt him, ‘no, I don’t know that.’

  ‘Don’t ye?’ His eye in its glitter was the mirror of his dark soul. ‘Well, I fancy ye’ll not deny we were once friends, and that I warned ye Percival had no stomach for real life or responsibility. Ye’d have found far more pleasure in my arms than his.’

  ‘I am not given to promiscuity, sir,’ she said, ‘and am determined my sister will escape the habit.’

  ‘Ye show proudly determined, I grant.’ Cumberland smiled and mused. ‘I’m minded to promise I’ll see no more of Annabelle, providing ye’ll allow me to see a great deal more of yourself.’ His survey was insolent. Caroline stiffened. ‘I fancy, madam, that out of your pretty gown ye’ll show a form worthy of Venus herself. Willingly I’ll bed you, dear woman, and leave your sister to her cherished innocence, though I doubt if she cherishes it as much as you do. Well, what d’ye say, does my offer appeal?’

  Caroline might have been incensed had she not suspected he would arrive precisely at that compromise. She reacted to it with icy disdain, not anger. ‘It has no appeal at all, sir. None.’

  ‘None?’ he said, head dipped, eye peering and massive figure looming.

  ‘I came here, sir, in the hope of finding a little compassion in you. I have found only heartlessness, and wish you to understand I would no more give myself to you than the devil. I am not without friends, and should I decide to appeal to the King they will see to it that I reach his ear.’

  An inimical smile split the duke’s mouth. ‘It’ll secure your friends a pretty piece of unpleasantness,’ he said, and she knew that such might be the consequence, for the King’s behaviour was so erratic that he was capable of reacting ragefully instead of reasonably, and directing that rage at her and her allies. ‘Gently, madam,’ continued Cumberland, ‘be at peace with me, for I tell ye frankly, where ye are concerned I ain’t above considering marriage. The truth is, ye’ve a fine figure, unequalled beauty and a presence as handsome as any royal duchess.’

  ‘Fiddle-de-dee, sir, you will never marry a commoner, and I would never marry you. I have already sampled the indignities of being married to a rake.’

  Cumberland’s gleam was malevolent. ‘I’m tempted by that remark, madam, to have ye one way or another. But no, I’ll not drag ye scratching into my arms when there’s the sweet consolation of your sister. It’s one or the other of ye, by God it is, and ye may choose, directly or indirectly. However, shall we part on a kiss to show I’m disposed to be forgiving of your unseemly tongue?’

  He was bold enough and inconsiderate enough to bend and attempt the kiss. Caroline sprang to her feet and fiercely thrust him off. He stepped back, his face dark with angry blood.

  ‘I am in shame for you, sir,’ she said bitingly.

  He controlled himself. His suffusing blood receded. He bowed, mockingly. ‘Even so, dear lady, it stands, my consideration of marriage,’ he said.

  ‘I have no desire, sir, to ask for that consideration in return for your promise to distance yourself from my sister – and, even if I did, your consideration would come to nothing. Also, it is irrelevant, for, as I have already said, I would never marry you.’

  ‘Then good day to ye, madam.’

  She departed in pride, but not without feeling she had worsened the situation. Cumberland spent some minutes in scowling irritation. His private secretary, Franz Erzburger, came in. Erzburger was the son of a Hanoverian father and English mother, and in all things was his royal master’s most faithful servant. Cumberland’s ambitions were his ambitions, and he guarded and protected all the duke’s clandestine activities.

  ‘Your Highness, there’s a person wishing to see you.’

  ‘A person?’ said Cumberland.

  ‘A man who has information to impart,’ said Erzburger, who spoke correct English and perfect German. ‘I think Your Highness should see him.’

  ‘Why?’ Cumberland was not given to receiving mere persons, informative or otherwise.

  ‘He belongs to the Orange Order,’ said Erzburger. The duke was closely associated with this Irish Protestant organization. ‘His information concerns the well-being of the Prince of Wales and—’

  ‘What’s that ye say?’ asked Cumberland, who seldom interested himself in the well-being of any of his brothers.

  ‘He claims, Your Highness, to have overheard details of an Irish plot.’

  ‘Irish? D’ye mean papist?’

  ‘I fear so,’ said Erzburger. ‘It embraces assassination.’

  ‘Assassination? Of Wales?’

  Erzburger said softly, ‘And you, Your Highness.’

  ‘Both of us?’ Cumberland, not a man to be in fear of plots, let his teeth show in a hungry smile. ‘By God, there’s ambition for ye, both of us.’

  ‘I think, Your Highness, that he’ll convince you there are certain Irishmen in London who should be apprehended.’

  ‘Why ain’t this Orangeman presenting his information to Wales?’

  ‘The Prince of Wales is in Brighton,’ said Erzburger.

  ‘So he is, and souring his stomach with pastry and cream, I’ll wager. So, then, let this person present himself to me.’

  The person, an Irish Protestant working in London as a docker, was admitted. He was a little incoherent in his nervous agitation, but managed to put together an understandable story and to convey truthfulness. Erzburger was despatched on an errand after a while, and returned in an hour. Later that day he took the Irishman to a place of safety, for the man, having overheard an alarming conversation at Wapping Docks, was obviously in peril of his life. He had not thought he was. He insisted the plotters had not been aware of his presence. But the duke advised him not to take that for granted. Therefore, he must go into hiding until such time as the miscreants had been rounded up and taken into custody. Erzburger escorted him to his hiding place, telling him he had been sensible to say nothing to anyone except the duke. He was quite sure he had not? Yes, protested the Irishman, quite sure. And his family was in Ireland and knew nothing of the matter? That was so, said the Irishman.

  Good, said Erzburger, and he delivered the man to a house of safety.

  ‘Captain Burnside, m’lady,’ announced a footman.

  Lady Caroline, in her drawing room, put aside the letter in her hand, the monthly letter from her parents. ‘Show him in, Thomas,’ she said, ‘and have his bags taken up to his room.’

  Thomas showed the captain in and retired. The captain advanced and bowed. Caroline regarded him critically, but found no fault. He wore a blue coat and light blue breeches, with shining Hessian boots and a white cravat. His appearance was impeccably correct, with no sign of being dandyish.

  ‘Caroline, my dear friend,’ he said, ‘how good to—’

  ‘Sir!’ Caroline came to her feet in a protesting rush.

  Captain Burnside cocked a dark eyebrow. ‘Caroline?’ he enquired.

  ‘I am not your dear friend, sir.’

  ‘I have the scenario wrong, Your Ladyship?’

  ‘This is a moment for the venture to be reviewed, Captain Burnside, not for unwanted familiarities.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘then I apologize, marm, for being in advance of the play. I thought to arrive on an appropriate note, to establish at once an atmosphere pertaining to a fond relationship …
’

  ‘Fond relationship?’ Caroline felt again the necessity to be in command of her hireling, or the initiative would slip from her. ‘I don’t recall making any suggestion that you and I were to be fond of each other, only that we were to be old friends.’

  ‘True, marm, true,’ said the imperturbable captain. ‘I can only say I am fond of my friends myself, and hope that some, at least, are fond of me.’

  Caroline, dressed in a muslin tea gown that was bewitchingly colourful, drew herself up. ‘I must tell you quite frankly, sir, that it would be impossible for me to pretend any fondness for you. You all are a blackguard of the kind I most despise, but because the situation is what it is I shall do what I can to sustain a role that compels me to regard you as a friend. Do not look for any fondness, sir; do not look for anything except a recognition that we knew each other before you left England to serve with your regiment abroad. You have just returned and I have been gracious enough to accommodate you as a house guest while you look for a suitable apartment.’

  ‘An excellent expedient,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘and if you will instruct me in this, that and the other, I’ll at once be au fait with you. Nevertheless, marm, in view of your peerless looks—’

  ‘Sir?’ she interrupted warningly.

  ‘Humbly, marm, and with all respect, I must point out your looks are peerless indeed, and it ain’t natural, d’you see, for an officer and a gentleman not to have acquired a fond admiration for you.’

  ‘An officer and a gentleman?’ Caroline could not help herself. Her façade as his cool and composed patron broke, and she laughed. Sarcastic though her amusement was, it brought a rich vivacity to her manner. ‘Your audacity, Captain, is almost too much for me. But yes, very well, I accept I’m not unattractive and that you admire my looks, but you are here to impress my sister, not me. Therefore, restrain this admiration or the gallantries you are required to bestow on Annabelle will not make sense.’

  Captain Burnside nodded in agreement. ‘Even so, I suggest cutting a dash in your favour initially, marm, by reason of our happy reunion, and advising your sister I consider you an exquisite American beauty. Then I shall change course by advising her she is even more exquisite, and, faith, she does have sweetly engaging looks. It follows that I shall embrace my role fervently, and you may rely on a performance suitably artistic and entirely successful.’

  Caroline quivered at the thought of her sister in the amorous arms of the philandering scoundrel, but conceded even that was to be preferred to Annabelle in Cumberland’s bed.

  ‘If boastful declarations could move mountains, Captain Burnside, you would be the first man to move Everest,’ she said. ‘However, you may sit down. Now, kindly pay attention.’

  There were, she said, to be six at supper that evening: their own two selves, her sister Annabelle, her cousin Cecilia and Cecilia’s husband Robert, and the Duke of Cumberland. Captain Burnside would find Cecilia and Robert charming, but Cumberland, of course, was an arrogant character and thunderously intolerant of Whigs and like radicals. Was Captain Burnside a Whig, a radical? If so, he must keep it to himself, or Cumberland would not sit down at the card table with him.

  ‘You’d prefer me to be an out-and-out Tory, marm?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I am, marm, now and for as long as you consider it necessary.’

  ‘Even though it may be a lie, sir?’

  ‘Oh, any kind of specious prevarication comes easily to me,’ smiled the captain.

  ‘I believe you,’ said Caroline cuttingly, and advised him that he, Robert Humphreys and the duke would be encouraged to play cards after supper. Captain Burnside, as agreed, would ensure Cumberland sustained grievous losses. He was not, however, to take advantage of Robert, an entirely likeable gentleman. He was to play fair with him. Cumberland would cover his losses with IOUs and ask for another game to be arranged to give him the chance to recover them. He never parted with ready money when he sustained heavy losses; he kept on in one way or another until his IOUs were cancelled, either fairly or unfairly.

  Caroline said she would see to it that his losses were made public, and Captain Burnside would see to it that at the right time Cumberland must be made to give up the letter for the IOUs. The captain was to understand, however, that Cumberland was at his most dangerous whenever he felt he was being pressed or disadvantaged. He had no regard whatever for offended husbands or outraged swains. He looked upon them as interfering peasants. As a royal duke, he was not permitted to engage in duels, but he would not lack to take on any adversary in a boxing match and hammer him almost to death.

  ‘H’m,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘I ain’t too keen on that kind of hammering.’

  ‘You are wise, sir, to fear Cumberland. He has no fears himself, either of God or the devil.’

  ‘Should I come close to being hammered to death, marm, will you take kindly to my asking for compensation in the form of a doubled fee?’

  ‘I will pay the costs of the doctor and the convalescence,’ said Caroline. ‘Now, sir, are you still willing fully to undertake this venture?’

  ‘As your servant, marm, I’m willing and prepared.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Caroline, her beauty complementing the elegant look of her drawing room, with its royal blue motif and its graceful French furniture. ‘I hope my confidence in you is not misplaced, and that you can cure my sister of her attachment to Cumberland. No time must be lost. I felt you might have stayed to establish yourself with her the other day, instead of unexpectedly departing.’

  ‘Ah, well,’ said the captain, ‘a little indifference in the beginning piques a young lady who has begun to think, by reason of a royal duke’s attentiveness, that she is irresistible to all men.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said Caroline. ‘I shall expect you to contrive more intelligently than that.’

  ‘Faith, marm,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘intelligence don’t always guarantee a satisfactory outcome when dealing with young ladies. They’re sweet things, but ain’t given as much to common sense as they are to heartfelt yearnings.’

  ‘Sometimes, sir, your facile tongue takes a very un-attractive turn. I will now have one of my servants take you up to your room, and show you such amenities as are available to you. I trust you will not find them inadequate. We dine at six, and I should like it if you will appear at not later than fifteen minutes to.’

  ‘Thank you, marm. Ah, first, when did we meet?’

  ‘Meet?’

  ‘I fancy your sister might ask that question. Shall we say at a ball, perhaps, a while before you were married and I had had some acquaintance with Lord Percival?’

  ‘I cannot deny that the details of our assumed first meeting might be important. Let it be at the Queen’s ball in September, seven years ago.’

  ‘Excellent. And may I enquire how I’m to address you? As an old friend, shall it be Caroline or not?’

  ‘Lady Clarence,’ she said. ‘Or Lady Caroline.’

  ‘Very well, marm.’

  ‘And I shall call you Captain Burnside, to indicate that although we are old friends we are not intimately so.’

  ‘Lady Caroline, marm, I am yours to command.’

  ‘Indeed you are,’ said Caroline firmly, ‘and do not forget it.’

  Chapter Five

  The atmosphere at supper proved as equable as Caroline could have wished. One never knew in precisely what mood the Duke of Cumberland would arrive at any function, private or public, but at least he was more inclined to dispense civility at a small supper party than at a large gathering. At a large gathering, he disliked the possibility of rubbing shoulders with people who might be merely people.

  Caroline had not been sure he would put in an appearance following her confrontation with him the previous day. But he did, and he greeted her as if nothing obtained between them but the friendliest of feelings. And with six at the table, the dining room owning a magnificence in keeping with his own, he induced an agreeable atmosphere wit
h his mood of royal benevolence. Nor did he make any attempt to be more attentive to Annabelle than to anyone else. If, from time to time, his eye was a little mocking, and his smile a little satirical, his conversation was most agreeable. He knew each of the three ladies well, and they were all pleasing to look upon.

  His hostess, gowned in shimmering jade green, strung pearls clasping her smooth, creamy neck, was undeniably superb, her lightly powdered bosom a curving splendour. Her sister Annabelle, in delicious azure blue, came to the eye as a fair young goddess, if with no more worldly knowledge than that of a simple shepherdess. As for Lady Caroline’s cousin by marriage, Cecilia Humphreys, her magenta gown gave a vividness to her Latin-like dark looks. She was the daughter of the deceased younger brother of the Duke of Avonhurst, and in her aptitude for radiating gaiety hinted not at all that she and her husband Robert were hard put to maintain their expensive lifestyle.

  Robert Humphreys was a pleasant and amiable gentleman who, with Cumberland’s help, kept his head just above water. The impoverished third son of the spendthrift Sir Godfrey Humphreys, he had managed to lay his hands on a little property for a nominal outlay, and he had been put in the way of this by Cumberland. He received rents from the tenants, rents necessary to his pocket. Only yesterday, at the request of Cumberland’s private secretary, he had turned one of the properties over to accommodate a wish of the duke. It had meant housing the tenants elsewhere at a moment’s notice. The arrangement, Erzburger had assured him, was only temporary. It was also confidential. Robert knew better than to ask questions. Robert was the kind of gentleman who liked people to like him. Why any gentleman should worry about people liking him was beyond the comprehension of the duke.

  Cumberland noted that the other fellow, Captain Burnside, dressed decently enough, as a man should, without lace or fripperies. Aside from that, he was, of course, as much of a nonentity as Humphreys. However, in certain circumstances, a nonentity or two could be tolerated. The three ladies made these circumstances of that kind. Percival’s widow was a challenge, her sister a pleasurable toy, and Humphreys’ wife an occasional pleasure.