Highest Stakes (34 page)

W hile
heated debate on the war continued, the King and his most favored minister advanced preparations and appointed the new command for the spring campaign.

  With the augmented cavalry numbers came a need for more horses. Procurement duty befell Captain Devington, who had gained a reputation for the keenest eye in horseflesh. Majors Drake and Winthrop were eager to join him at the Hyde Park blood sales.

  Passing through the myriad of paddocks, they scouted hundreds of horses, in quest of the cavalry archetype: steady-tempered, bigboned, sound geldings. The gelding sale began at ten of the clock, and of the eighty-some horses run through the auction, only a handful passed muster under Devington's scrutiny. Once thoroughly vetted by Major Winthrop, they arranged to deliver the dozen or so select geldings to Whitehall.

  The officers were just completing this business at the start of the broodmare sale, when quite by happenstance, Devington's eye caught the coppery glint of a familiar little mare led by the equally familiar Jeffries.

  "The bloody sod!" Robert swore. "That's Amoret. I'll swear it! I can't believe Sir Garfield would go so far as to sell the mare."

"Is it truly surprising, given the scoundrel's conduct?" Drake asked.

"The bidding's about to commence. I'll be deuced to abide by it!"

  "You have my sympathy, but we've two dilemmas. First and foremost, I'm bloody well strapped for capital. London's not an inexpensive place to entertain oneself, especially on half pay. Unless you are faring better than me, I have barely sixpence left to rub together. Secondly, where would you stable a mare? Our procurement orders are for geldings only."

  "It doesn't matter how or where! We can't let her go."

  "Are you really so persuaded?"

  Major Winthrop overheard this exchange. "What has you so bedeviled, Devington?"

  "That mare, sir, the chestnut just passed by. I know her."

  "What the devil would the Horse Guard do with a fancy-stepping little mare? We are soldiers, not bloody fops! The cavalry can't use mares. Far too much trouble, they are. Our orders are for sensible, sound geldings."

  "You misunderstand, Winthrop. She isn't for the Horse Guard. That mare belonged to my affianced, and her uncle owes me a foal from the same mare from a lost wager. He has reneged on the bet and apparently sells her as further reprisal."

  "I see, indeed. So you wish to buy her back?" Winthrop asked rhetorically.

  "Just so. But where to stable her?"

  "Well, Devington,"—Winthrop clapped his companion on the back with a conspiratorial wink—"'twould appear the Household Cavalry has a previously unanticipated need for a broodmare. You can put her in the veterinary stables for the time being, just until you make other provisions." Robert reciprocated with a grin, and the trio proceeded to the auction paddock.

Mr. Pitt's voice cried out as he indicated a sheaf of papers by his side. "I have in hand, gentlemen, a document confiscated by Admiral Norris from a packet bound for Scotland. It is dated December 23, 1743, and is a Commission of Regency for Prince Charles Edward Stuart, signed by the Pretender himself.

  "Only ten days ago, the Young Pretender was headed for Calais, where the French fleet awaited him, and two days later our navy espied the Brest squadron off Land's End. I speak of a threat that is very real, the French invasion of England to restore the Stuart Crown. I only pray that there are none among this house so desperate or mad to join such an ill-considered attempt against the throne and our country."

  With Parliament in an uproar over the imminent invasion and the risk of his discovery in the plot increasing, Lord Uxeter was livid at having to quit London at his father's sudden summons. Except through the earl's secretary, he had not seen or spoken to his father in months, but the old man now demanded that he drop all his obligations to return to Sussex.

  Nothing appeared to be going his way, and his future had never appeared more uncertain. He burned with bitterness and frustration for his lagging career, and seethed with scorn and contempt for his filial duty.

  Edmund arrived at the family seat of Hastings Park in an unusual state of agitation. He leaped from the carriage and snapped instructions to the footman. His appearance was haggard, as if he had not slept in days, and his manner, in marked contrast to his normal haughty self-possession, was impatient and edgy.

  Standing outside the earl's door, he battled to compose himself enough to play doting son and obedient heir. When he entered the earl's chamber, however, he was stunned to behold his father's frail, feeble, and ancient appearance. Beside the blazing hearth, he was covered in rugs, and as Edmund approached, he discerned an audible rattle resonating with every breath the old man took. Mayhap his sudden summons was not much ado about nothing.

  Supposing the earl asleep, Edmund conducted himself with less than his usual diffidence. He slumped into the chair opposite his father and studied the old man with insouciance. For all appearances, the earl was nearing death's door.

  The stinging blow by the earl's cane gave sharp notice of his error.

  "You insolent whelp!" the earl croaked, his gimlet eyes burning like a firebrand.

  Recovering from the shock of the blow, Lord Uxeter smoldered his odium to force an apology from his lips. "Pray forgive me, my lord. I had thought you asleep and only sought to wait by your side until you awakened. I intended no disrespect."

  "Your judgment is sorely lacking, Edmund. I seem to find you wanting in many areas these days."

  "Then I am sorely grieved. In what manner have I displeased you?" His tone was appropriately contrite.

  "You presume to the earldom, Edmund, yet you fail to honor my single request. I have long ignored the whispers from certain unsavory circles, the rumors that you run among those who are less than troubled by a repugnance to the unnatural. I now wonder why you are so loath to stand up to your obligations, and ask if these filthy rumors are not founded?"

  Edmund had always maintained utmost discretion in his private affairs and had paid dearly for it. Nevertheless, he had enemies whom he could look to for motive.

  "Nasty rumors are ofttimes generated by those who would most benefit from another's fall from grace. We live in times of great political unrest, my lord."

  "You would blame political enemies? Yet your career has been considerably less than I expected. You were born to one of the oldest aristocratic families in England, yet you have failed to achieve anything remarkable. I begin to question your worthiness of an earldom."

  His throat constricted, and Edmund responded with more insolence than he would have previously dared. "Whether you deem me
worthy
or not, my lord, I
am
your legitimate firstborn, and your heir. None may question my birthright."

  The earl regarded his eldest son with a piercing stare. "You presume much, Edmund. While there is breath in my body, I will not allow the estate and possessions of four generations to revert back to the Crown! And to a Hanoverian Crown at that!
I am still
the Earl of Hastings
, and I will see my wishes carried out, regardless of your birthright!"

  "What do you mean? You cannot dictate the laws of the land. Patrilineal primogeniture guarantees my right of inheritance."

  "Patrilineal primogeniture, eh? You think to hold inheritance law over my head? Although English custom dictates the eldest male to inherit an entailed estate, the Statute of Wills of 1540 guarantees my right to designate an heir by testament. Thereby, I may confer the right of inheritance upon whomever I wish."

  Edmund was stunned.

  "And since you have been so disinclined to heed my wishes, I am compelled to enforce them.
I can and shall
ensure my will prevails, Edmund, whether in this life or in the next.

  "I have already met with my solicitors and have made my last will and testament. Upon my death, you shall have one year to produce a male heir. One year. Should you fail, my estate shall go to
whichever
of my two sons
is first to beget legitimate male issue. Should Philip succeed where you have failed, he shall inherit all, and you shall be cut off completely."

  "Philip? That wastrel! How can you even think it?"

  "I am inclined to believe that since he embarked upon his military career, your brother is mending his ways. One may at least hope as much. I am further confident that news of my wishes might well provide him further… inspiration. I also trust this change in circumstance shall provide you with proper motivation. Perhaps you now fully comprehend the weight of an earldom, Edmund."

  His first reaction was blind rage, but amidst it all, Edmund was thunderstruck. Had not Providence recently delivered a bride to his very door? He had initially dismissed Sir Garfield's proposition. Now he realized the twofold advantage. The timing could not have been more opportune. He could assure his inheritance, and the immense dowry would help advance his lagging political career. Edmund smiled placatingly at the earl.

  "As a matter of fact, my lord, I had wished to make known to you news of my imminent betrothal."

  "Your what? Of a sudden you would have me believe you intend to wed?"

  "Indeed, my lord, the marriage settlements are already in progress."

  "Don't think this news alone shall mollify me, Edmund. The will is made, and I will ensure it is executed. If you have indeed chosen a bride, you damned well better get her with child, and not in this leisurely manner in which you chose to wed! My time is running short, and I will not go to my grave unassured."

  "I fully intend to comply with your wishes and produce an heir, my lord."

  "And what of your betrothed? Who is the family?"

  "As to the family, she daughter of a Yorkshire baronet. I am told she has a strong constitution and will undoubtedly prove sound to the task of bearing progeny."

  Lord Hastings directed him a frosty stare. "A baronet? I once erred by wedding a woman of inferior birth. I will never countenance begetting the future heir of Hastings from common stock."

  "Yet you propose to offer my half-bred brother an earldom?" Edmund sneered.

W ith the threat of French invasion, the remaining British fleet
not already engaged with France in southern waters patrolled the Channel in force, and extra garrisons were dispatched to the southernmost coast, where the landing was most anticipated.

  Major Drake was placed in command of two hundred Horse and a thousand infantry to patrol his home coast of East Sussex. Devington, under his command, was starkly reminded what a grueling taskmaster his friend could be. The major was assiduous in preparing his men to defend their beloved shores.

  He garrisoned the troops of Horse at Hastings Castle, a ruined Norman fortification that had succumbed to the elements over the centuries. Great sections of the castle, along with chunks of the soft sandstone cliff face, had long given way into the sea, but it provided an ideal vantage point to spot any encroaching vessels. He positioned his cavalry units to patrol the cliffs and garrisoned the remainder of his forces five miles to the north at Battle Abbey.

  By February 16th, the French naval squadrons, under Admiral Roquefeuille, set sail up the Channel to clear the way for the troop and armament transports. On the 23rd, Roquefeuille—mistakenly believing all the British ships to be at Portsmouth—sent a vessel on to Dunkirk to signal Marshal de Saxe.