Authors: Emery Lee
Highest Stakes (63 page)
"What is it, Lieutenant Barber?"
"I've a message from the commander in chief. He wishes to see you at Headquarters at once."
"Convey to Field Marshal Wade that I will be there directly."
"But 'tis not the field marshal who send the summons, sir. 'Tis His Grace of Cumberland."
"Cumberland, you say?" Philip looked puzzled.
"Indeed, sir. It appears he is now appointed to replace Field Marshal Wade."
The major, annoyed and unsettled by his ignorance of this fact, replied again, "Then pray convey to
His Grace
that I shall come directly."
His Grace
that I shall come directly."
The lieutenant snapped his heels, saluted again, and departed hastily to carry the message.
How peculiar, Philip thought. Among the inner circle of aidesde-camp, there was precious little news ever withheld from him. As one of the first to learn of Field Marshal Wade's intent to resign his command, why should he not also have been one of the first to learn of his replacement?
Thoroughly perturbed, he checked his appearance and promptly departed for Headquarters.
Upon arrival, Major Drake was conducted directly to an inner sanctum, "the holy of holies," where he was stunned to face a triad of generals seated at a long, gleaming table. Field Marshals Wade, Stair, and Cumberland, looking as if assembled for a counsel of
war… or military tribunal… regarded him with reserve.
As Philip saluted the three commanders, his mind raced to recall any incident of misconduct. But he found himself at an utter loss.
"Pray have a seat, Major." General Wade spoke in an attempt to set his former adjutant at ease. He indicated a chair, and Philip acquiesced, regarding the triumvirate in complete befuddlement.
The duke, the new commander in chief, seated at the head of the table, remarked, "You've had a commendable career, thus far, for one so young, Major Drake."
Philip was
almost
amused at the compliment coming from the King's younger son, two year's Philip's junior at four-and-twenty.
almost
amused at the compliment coming from the King's younger son, two year's Philip's junior at four-and-twenty.
"You enlisted even before the commencement of hostilities with France," Cumberland continued. "You were lauded at Dettingen and promoted immediately thereafter. Indeed, your rise in the ranks has been remarkably swift."
"I have endeavored to serve my King and country to the utmost of my ability, Your Grace."
"None would gainsay you regarding your record," commented Lord Stair. "With the exception of one foolish incident involving a captain under your command, your record is without blemish." Philip was reminded with a pointed look that Lord Stair had personally intervened on that particular occasion.
Cumberland spoke again. "Lord Stair and Field Marshal Wade have both spoken highly of your competence and your abilities, and I have personally borne witness to your valor. We have great need of such men. Should you choose to remain in His Majesty's service, I foresee a long and illustrious military career for you."
"Thank you, Your Grace. It is both my ambition and my desire."
"That being the case, I cannot emphasize strongly enough that the loyalty of such men must be absolute, and their conduct beyond reproach."
This struck Philip as distinctly ominous. "Indeed, Your Grace," he agreed, still without a clue as to where this seeming inquisition was heading. His expression must have revealed the questions in his mind.
"You are by this time wondering why you were called?"
"Just so, Your Grace. I truly cannot fathom."
"While having no reason to doubt
your
loyalty to the Crown," Wade interjected, "there are some who begin to doubt that of your brother.
His
allegiance is recently become suspect. Ironic indeed, considering he co-authored the very Act of Parliament that would serve to attaint him of high treason."
your
loyalty to the Crown," Wade interjected, "there are some who begin to doubt that of your brother.
His
allegiance is recently become suspect. Ironic indeed, considering he co-authored the very Act of Parliament that would serve to attaint him of high treason."
The Duke continued. "One would doubt he need be reminded that any correspondence or monetary assistance to the Pretender or his son is considered an act against the Crown. Moreover, if convicted, the penalty is death, dismemberment, and dishonor, with the forfeiture of all your family's holdings."
"But what has this to do with me?" Philip asked incredulously.
"If you've any regard for your family name, let alone your career, Major, it would behoove you to escort your brother to Headquarters. We desire only to question him… for now."
"Here we are at last, home sweet home," the senior of the two officers remarked dryly to his companion and then dismounted.
"You know I have serious misgivings about this, Drake," the lieutenant replied. "I already regret having let you drag me here. I had every hope of avoiding my mother's hysterical weeping at her heartless son, and my father's outraged ranting at what he will perceive only as my outright rebellion. Had I not met you at Westminster, I should never have come." He reluctantly dismounted.
"Trust me, Charles, as one who has seen battle, you would never forgive yourself if you left without word. As the baby's godfather, at the least, you must pay respects to your sister and the child before you bid farewell to all of them. You owe your family that much."
"I know you are right," Charles confessed, "but I still can't like it."
"Where's the bloody groom?" Philip mumbled. "No matter, I know my way about to see to the horses. Don't wait on me, old chum." Philip indicated that Charles should proceed to the house while Phillip, thankful for this brief reprieve, led the horses to the stables.
In encountering Charles at Headquarters, he had learned of Beatrix's imminent delivery and had coerced Charles to travel with him to Hastings to bid farewell to his family. Though unaware of Philip's true errand, Lieutenant Wallace seemed the ideal candidate to accompany him. He might have need of a second officer's aid, if only as intimidation.
Having arrived, Philip now wondered at his errand. Had His Majesty any hard evidence against Edmund, he surely would have arrested him and taken him to the Tower. If Edmund was truly under suspicion, why would Cumberland, Wade, and Stair have revealed as much, let alone sent him on this mission, unless it was to test his own fidelity?
And if being put to the test, to whom did Philip ultimately owe his allegiance? To his family? Or to the Crown? At one time he should never have thought it a contest. He would have scoffed to think he would even hesitate to consider a family who had done nothing but disparage him his entire life. But that was before he found himself in such position. Forced to choose, which would it be?
With disquiet, uncertainty, and an ominous sentiment of foreboding, Philip squared his shoulders to face the inevitable.
Heaving a great sigh, Lieutenant Charles Wallace proudly straightened his crimson regimental uniform and squared his shoulders for his grand entrance. Met by Grayson, he was led to his mother in the
first-floor salon.
Lady Felicia's eyes lit with delight and surprise at her son's final arrival… until remarking his uniform. She gasped in dismay. "Charles, what have you done?"
"Dearest Mama, I should think it obvious. I have enlisted in the First Regiment of Foot and am soon off to join Cumberland."
"But what are you thinking! You know your father shall never allow it. He has forbidden even talk of the army."
"For one-and-twenty years I have done all you have expected of me. But now, come fully to manhood, I must please myself, even at the risk of displeasing my father. I have joined the army and will be off for Ghent within the se'nnight. I am not to be dissuaded. I am come only to bid farewell to my family, Mama."
Lady Felicia burst into tears, and into this state, Sir Garfield entered. "What now, Charles!" he exclaimed. "Where the devil have you been, boy? And what are you about, dressed in that preposterous costume?"
"Preposterous, Father?" Charles pulled a face in protest. "'Tis the uniform of the First Foot Guards. I thought it quite dashing."
"How dare you defy me! This is not to be tolerated!"
"Father," Charles interrupted, "the deed is done and not to be undone. I have purchased a lieutenancy in the First Foot and am deployed in a few days time. Pray let us not quarrel about it."
"Quarrel? There is no quarrel. There is only the defiance of an insolent puppy!" Sir Garfield flushed in ire, while Lady Felicia looked on in teary-eyed dismay.
A flushed Charlotte, coming directly from Beatrix's bedchamber, interrupted the emotionally charged exchange. Finding her aunt, uncle, and Cousin Charles assembled, she halted abruptly.
"Uncle, Aunt, Charles. I need a private word. Urgently." Before any of them could reply, Charlotte had dismissed the servants and closed the salon doors behind her.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" her uncle demanded.
"'Tis Beatrix. I fear for her life," she said more calmly than she felt.
"Beatrix? Is there trouble with the baby?" Charles queried anxiously.
"No, Charles. Little Sophie is in no imminent danger; however, I predict future peril should she remain in this wicked place," Charlotte replied.
"You have me flummoxed, Charlotte," Charles responded. "Who is Sophie? And what is this peril?"
"Beatrix has already given birth to a daughter, Charles. She was christened Anna Sophie," Lady Felicia offered by way of explanation.
"Charles, Aunt, listen to me," Charlotte interrupted impatiently. "Beatrix is beaten nigh senseless! You must come at once."
Lady Felicia shrieked. "What? Beatrix beaten?"
"Lord Uxeter has nearly throttled her."
"Throttled her?" Lady Felicia repeated blankly. "Sir Garfield!" She turned to her husband.
"Just one moment, madam!" he imperiously commanded. "'Tis no doubt some lover's spat that will blow over soon enough. There is no room for our interference here."
"But she is your daughter! How can you just stand by?" Charlotte looked to her uncle incredulously.
"Hysterical girl!" he admonished his niece. "You should be cuffed yourself for causing such a commotion. Whatever may or may not have occurred between Lord Uxeter and his wife is none of our concern."
"I am not hysterical, nor do I exaggerate," Charlotte exclaimed. "You must remove her from this place at once!"
"Sir Garfield, we must go to her!" Lady Felicia made for the door.
"Beatrix is no longer our daughter. She is Lady Drake and the sole responsibility of her husband. We have no right to intervene in any matter between a husband and his wife. Go to her if it pleases you, but intercede we will not!"
"Your stance is unconscionable, Father," Charles remonstrated. "But if you have no care, as her brother, I shall certainly act! Charlotte," Charles commanded, "take me to her at once!"
They departed, nearly crashing into Philip outside the salon. Learning of Charlotte's presence at Hastings, he had resolved to take care of his personal business before attending to his other concerns.
As she made to pass, he restrained her with a firm grasp to her upper arm, pulling her to his side. Charles and his weeping mother swept past.
"Charlotte, dear heart, have you no word of greeting for your long-absent husband?" He smirked.
"Unhand me, you lummox!" She glared, trying unsuccessfully to pull her arm free.
"It quite lacks the warmth I had anticipated. Mayhap we should try again?" His attempt to brush her lips with a kiss was met with a stinging slap. With this answer, he roughly put her away, still not releasing his grip.
"Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder was sadly misinformed," he remarked sardonically.
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