The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (28 page)

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Edwin. “Highbury is an excellent fellow. Such a shame his only son is turning out to be a wastrel. You had a fortunate escape there, Beth.”

“I certainly did,” she said, shuddering.

Freddie dropped the ball on the rug, and Caroline popped him down beside it and reached for the servants’ bell.

“How many calls have you made today?” she asked. “Have you had tea at Isabella’s?”

“No, you’re our first port of call,” said Beth. “We couldn’t bear to face my cousins first thing. We thought to ease our way back into London society gently.”

“Then you haven’t heard the news?” said Edwin. “I thought it was strange that you hadn’t mentioned it, but then we have been making you eat humble pie for the last ten minutes.”

“What news?” said Beth and Anthony together.

“Lord Redburn is dead,” said Edwin. “He died three weeks ago. That’s why Caroline wrote to you in Manchester, hoping you’d be there.”

There was a shocked silence. Caroline rang the bell.

“Shall I call for something stronger than tea?” she asked.

“Aye,” said Sir Anthony.

Caroline waited. Beth tried to catch his eye but he was looking away from her, distracted by the news.

“You what, Anthony?” she prompted gently. He looked at her, puzzled. “You said ‘I…’ and then stopped. What were you going to say?”

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, only the slight widening of his eyes showing that he had realised his slip and was appalled by it. “I can’t believe it, was what I was thinking. I hadn’t realised I’d spoken aloud. Yes, Caroline, some wine would be excellent, if you don’t mind. God, what a shock. He seemed to be recovering his health under Anne’s care.”

“That’s what everyone is saying,” said Edwin. “I hated to admit it, but you two were right to coerce them into marriage. They were perfect for each other. He doted on Anne. She really blossomed, became a lot more confident. And she even managed to get him on to that milk diet you were so anxious to stop her talking about. He was losing weight, going for regular walks. We all thought he was getting better.”

“How did he die?” asked Beth.

“The carriage had dropped them off at Birdcage Walk and they were strolling along together, when all of a sudden, according to Anne, he clutched at his chest, said something about not feeling quite the thing, and fell down on the path.”

“The poor woman,” said Anthony. “She must have been hysterical.”

“Not a bit of it,” put in Caroline. “She behaved admirably. She tried to revive him herself for a few minutes, and then she ordered some men who were passing to carry him to the carriage. After that she drove like the devil to Warwick Lane and demanded the attention of the most senior physician at the College. And got it. But there was nothing anyone could do. Lord Redburn was already dead.”

“The funeral wasn’t held until last Thursday, because she insisted on having an enormous send-off for him,” said Edwin. “It cost a fortune. She gave out nearly two hundred mourning rings alone. There were four coaches, all covered in black, and a huge tea afterwards. I don’t want to rub it in, but she was very upset that you couldn’t be there.”

Sir Anthony lifted his arm, stopping himself from rubbing his hand through his hair just in time. Instead he reached across to pick up his glass of wine from the tray which the servant had placed on the table.

“We will have to visit her, of course. We will go directly after we leave here,” he said.

“I would go home and get changed first, if I were you,” said Caroline, eyeing her friend’s clothing with a critical eye. “I don’t think Anne will appreciate you turning up dressed like a daffodil, Anthony, delightful as you look. After the funeral she went to pieces, and Charlotte has been her almost constant companion ever since. Need I say more?”

Beth and Anthony both groaned in unison.

“I’m sure she’ll come round in time, though,” said Edwin. “After all, Charlotte was left with only memories of her poor dear Frederick. Redburn has left Anne stinking rich, as you pointed out when you were matchmaking, Beth. Once she realises that she’s no longer dependent on anyone, I’m sure she’ll regain the confidence she developed while she was married.”

“Stinking rich is not all Stanley Redburn left her, though,” Caroline said. “He also left her three months pregnant.”

Beth was uncharacteristically silent on the way home.

“You’re not that distressed about Lord Redburn, are you?” her husband asked. “It’s not as though you knew him well, after all.”

“No,” said Beth. “I feel sorry for Anne, though. I never envisaged him dying so quickly. I was hoping she’d get the time to develop a little, away from the influence of the Winters.”

“It sounds as though she did, from what Caroline and Edwin said.”

Silence.

“Are you worried because of my slip?” he said. “I won’t do it again. I’m going to speak only in English for the next two days, just to make sure.”

“No, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said. “I couldn’t understand at first why you told them about Edinburgh though, but of course if Daniel or his father talks about seeing us there, it would look strange if we hadn’t mentioned it.”

“Exactly. But I didn’t think there was any need to mention the unpleasantness. William won’t say anything and his son definitely won’t be keen to chat about his humiliation.”

Silence.

“I know what it is that’s bothering you,” said Alex as the coach pulled up outside the house. “You’re regretting your choice of husband. You’re thinking that if you’d known Lord Redburn was going to die this quickly, you’d have married him instead of me and have been a rich widow now, instead of being saddled with an impoverished fraudster who could live for another fifty years.”

That made her smile, at least. He jumped down from the coach and she took his hand. They walked up the steps and into the house together.

“I’ll go and change,” said Beth, making for the stairs. Alex retained his grip on her hand and put his other hand under her chin, tilting her head up to his.

“Beth,” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

To his astonishment tears sprang instantly to her eyes.

“It’s not fair. Everyone’s pregnant!” she cried. “Everyone except me!”

“It’s true,” she sniffed a few minutes later, sitting on his knee in the library. “First Caroline, and then Janet – she’s only just had one, and she’s already pregnant again, and then Maggie, and now even Anne Maynard! Redburn,” she amended. “What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Beth,” said Alex.

“There must be!” she said. “We’ve been married for over a year, and it’s hardly as though we haven’t been trying.”

“Caroline and Edwin were married for five years before they had Freddie,” Alex pointed out. “And Maggie and Iain have been trying at least as much as us for the last three years.”

“Anne must have fallen pregnant almost immediately,” countered Beth, “and Janet was pregnant before she even got married! Are you very disappointed?” she asked. “I know you haven’t said anything, but you must be.” She had thought of little else since Maggie’s expected announcement three days ago. The baby was due in April.

Alex’s painted face creased in consternation.

“This is the first time I’ve thought about it, and that’s the truth. I’m no’ disappointed, not a bit of it,” he said, forgetting his intention to speak only English. “We’re young and healthy, and if God intends us to have bairns, he’ll send us some.”

“And if he doesn’t?” she whispered.

“If he doesna, then I’ll still thank him every day for giving me you,” said Alex firmly.

“But what about the clan?” she said. “Won’t they expect you to have a son to take over the chieftainship?”

“Not at all,” he said. “They’ll accept sons of Duncan or Angus just as easily, if they’re worthy. Aye, I ken Duncan isna likely to marry again, but I’m sure there are already one or two wee Anguses toddling around France and Italy and even London.” He knew it was unlikely even as he said it, hoping to reassure her. Prostitutes were extremely knowledgeable in the art of terminating unwanted pregnancies, and Angus, reckless as he could be, normally took precautions to avoid getting the French pox. “Him and Morag will have a dozen, I’m certain of it,” he finished, wiping a tear from her cheek with his finger.

“But you really like children,” Beth persisted. She seemed determined not to be consoled. “You must want some of your own.”

He shifted her on his knee a little to relieve the pressure of the cane hoop of her underskirt, which was digging painfully into his ribs. It had been quite a feat to get her on his knee at all, in this ridiculous dress.

“Beth,” he said firmly. “I like children, aye. I would like some of my own, I’ll no’ deny that. You wouldna believe me if I did. But I’ll have them with you, or with no one. Dinna forget, it takes two to make a baby. If we canna have them, and I say ‘if’ because we havena given it anywhere near enough time to be sure yet, then the fault is as likely to lie with me as with you. Now if ye want to go off and try wi’ another man, that’s up to you, but you’d better make sure I dinna catch you at it. Myself, I’ll choose to stay wi’ you, bairns or no’. If that’s all right wi’ yourself.”

“Yes,” she said, convinced at last. “That’s all right with me.”

She hugged him and clambered off his knee.

“Five years, you said. Are you sure?” Beth asked, as she reached the door.

“I’m sure. And they were trying. Ask Caroline yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” she said, cheered. “I just didn’t know it could take so long, that’s all.”

He knew it could. He also knew that most women became pregnant in their first year of marriage. He had meant every word he said to her. Nevertheless, he sent up a silent prayer that he would be allowed to have Beth and the joy of his own children too. It was greedy, he knew that, but there could be no harm in asking.

By the time Beth had washed away all traces of her distress and they had both changed into mourning dress it was after the accepted hour to make calls, but they were admitted by the Redburns’ footman anyway and shown into the salon.

At first Beth thought she had gone blind, so great was the contrast between the afternoon sunlight outside and the darkness of the room into which they were shown. Then her eyes started to adjust, and she saw a figure rise and move to turn up the lamp. A thin yellow light dimly illuminated the three people inhabiting the room.

“Oh, how delightful to see you both, Sir Anthony, Lady Elizabeth!” gushed Lady Winter. “You have been away for such a long time.” Her voice managed to hold reproach, curiosity and even a hint of genuine welcome, all at the same time.

Sir Anthony bowed, nodded his head to Lord Winter, who had also risen, and took two steps into the room.

“We have been travelling around this delightful isle, taking in its remarkable and diverse beauties, Lady Wilhelmina,” he said politely before turning to Anne, who to Beth’s alarm had not even stood to greet them, but remained slumped in her chair.

“My dear Anne, there are no words…” he began.

“We were just about to take our leave,” announced Lord Winter, clearly intending to make a run for it whilst he could. He could not in good conscience leave his grief-stricken great-niece alone, much as he desired to. The Winters had called for ten minutes over an hour ago, expecting Charlotte to be present, and had been appalled to find Anne alone, and themselves trapped by politeness and familial obligation into indefinite attendance on the grieving widow. He saw the Peters’ unexpected visit as a God-given opportunity to escape.

Lady Winter, who had been about to sit down, now stood again, wavering between taking advantage of the window of opportunity to go, and curiosity as to where the Peters’ had been for three months.

“Do not let us keep you if you have an urgent appointment, my lord,” said Beth. “I am sure we will meet again very soon.”

“Indeed,” said Lady Winter, brightening. “Now that you are back, you will of course be attending Clarissa’s birthday celebrations next week. They promise to be most exciting. Dinner at their house followed by a visit to the opera, at which Mr Handel will be playing! Edward has reserved two boxes especially.”

“Capital,” sniffed Lord Winter without enthusiasm. “Now if you will excuse us.” He sketched a bow at the company, tucked his wife’s arm firmly under his own and left, as hastily as decorum would permit.

“My dear Anne,” began Sir Anthony again as soon as the door had closed, moving to kneel by her side. “There are no words sufficient to express our distress on hearing the news of your tragic loss. We are distraught.”

“You are very kind, Sir Anthony,” said Anne in a monotone.

“It is not kindness which moves me, my dear, but concern for yourself. I am so terribly sorry.” He sounded really genuine. “I cannot imagine how I would cope if anything were to happen to my dear wife. I would be beside myself.” He took her limp hand in his and stroked it comfortingly.

For the first time since he had entered the room, Anne looked at him.

“Oh Sir Anthony,” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears. “You cannot believe how horrible it has been.” She looked down at the hand stroking hers, and a huge tear splashed onto the black silk of her dress.

“Oh God!” she wailed, throwing herself out of the chair and into his arms so unexpectedly that he almost toppled over backwards. “It was awful!” she wept into his shoulder. “Everybody has been so kind, but they keep reminding me that I am as rich as Croesus, as though that should be a consolation. I cannot bear it, I cannot!”

His arms came round her as she dissolved into a paroxysm of sobbing, and while her husband patted the bereaved woman’s back and murmured words of comfort, Beth took the opportunity to turn the lamp up a little more. She looked around the room, appalled. The windows were tightly shuttered and every piece of furniture was draped in black crepe. No cheering fire burned in the grate in spite of the season, and the room was very cold. The air smelt old and stale. What was Charlotte thinking of? What were any of Anne’s so-called friends thinking of, to allow her to bury herself like this?