Countess of Scandal (7 page)

Eliza smiled, feeling quite absurdly optimistic as she listened to Anna's bright chatter. Until suddenly, in the distance, she heard the unmistakable sound of drumbeats. Everyone near them fell silent, tensely alert as they turned toward that martial echo. Even Anna was quiet, holding tightly to Eliza's arm.

Over the horizon, along the wide, main thoroughfare of the park, came a sight Eliza would vow had come straight up out of Hades. The drummers were followed by standard-bearers, carrying the king's gold lion on red, and the regimental colors of the Thirteenth Regiment of Foot And behind them was the regiment itself, perfectly aligned ranks of marching red coats with glinting gold lace.

St. Stephen's Green was often the site of military show, but usually it was the slightly clumsy maneuvers of local militia and Volunteers. It was a chance to show off their specially designed uniforms and flirt with the pretty girls, a lighthearted indulgence of the Irish love of show.

But this was different This was a real British regiment of real soldiers, their gleaming new weapons on obvious display, their faces hard, etched with focus. They would not be easily dismissed or defeated.

Their appearance, on the main parade ground of Dublin, was meant to show the intent of the Crown and its vessel, Dublin Castle. The hammer blow was coming, and the United Irish had to be prepared.

And at the head of those neat red columns, mounted on a jet-black horse equally caparisoned for war, was Major William Denton.

Eliza studied him as he rode by, the lean, sharp lines of his face shadowed by the brim of his helmet He stared straight ahead, unsmiling, and in that armor of red wool, he was not at all Will.

The grim parade seemed to go on and on, an endless barrier between them and a free Ireland. Even Anna, who could usually be counted on for a comment about handsome officers, was silent as she leaned on Eliza's arm.

"At last" a man growled behind them. "It seemed like the king and Prime Minister Pitt had deserted us to defend ourselves against the rabble!"

"Better late than never, I suppose," another man said. "Though I hear the Thirteenth is to be sent north."

"And leave the streets of Dublin open to murderers!" a woman said shrilly.

"If the north continues to burn, Dublin will certainly be next my dear," the first man said. "Perhaps when the regiment leaves, we should, too?"

"And go where?" the woman said, panic in her words. "No place is safe at
all
"

"Are they right Eliza?" Anna whispered.

Before Eliza could answer, someone at the edge of the growing crowd started singing. "Oh, croppies, ye'd better be quiet and still. Ye shan't have your liberty, do what ye will. As long as salt water is formed in the deep, a foot on the neck of the croppy we'll keep.'" "Croppies Lie Down"—the worst of the latest round of British songs— was about killing "croppies," men who cut their hair short in sympathy with the United Irishmen.

Eliza felt the gathering, so quiet and solemn when the regiment appeared, now growing restive and angry. What was it Will said at the assembly rooms? That they were all dancing on a powder keg, and it took only one match to set it alight

And she grew angry at these people who cared only for their own privilege and not for the suffering and injustice of others.

She took Anna's hand and drew her through the crowd. They pushed their way past until they were out of sight of the regiment, who now set up their maneuvers on the frosty grass. Near the gates, she glimpsed the man who sang that hateful song. He was a beardless youth who would doubtless run and hide at the first sign of any real fight

Even as she considered marching over there to push him to the ground, she knew he was not the real enemy. He had no power. It was that well-trained, relentless regiment they had to beware of.

But Anna had no such restraint She snatched her hand from Eliza's, hurrying toward the singer with fire in her blue eyes. A crowd had gathered, some to cheer him on, some with angry expressions, and she shoved her way past them.

Eliza dashed after her sister, her heart pounding. This
was not the moment to call attention to themselves! liming was everything these days, and any trouble could ruin it all. The tiniest misstep could be their last.

"How dare you?" Anna's voice rang out, clear and indignant over the out-of-tune song. "Such vulgarity, and in a public place!"

For an instant, the man's song faltered at the sight of Anna's blond beauty and her fiery anger. Then his face flushed red, and he sang out louder, others joining in.

Anna opened her mouth again, just as Eliza caught the edge of her cloak. Over her sister's head, she glimpsed a familiar face at the edge of the crowd. Mr. Boyle, her go-between to the hidden
Northern Star
printing press.

Oh, that was
all
she needed, she thought Double the trouble. How could she tell anyone a British officer stole her pamphlet notes from her desk?

"Anna, this is not the time," Eliza whispered quickly. "Just ignore him."

Anna looked at her with startled eyes. "How can I ignore a song about killing Irishmen?"

Mr. Boyle vanished into the crowd, obviously deciding this was not the moment for any messages.

"The moment will come, sister," Eliza said. "But not now. Not over something so trivial."

'Trivial?" Before Anna could say more, there was a new vibration in the air, a new murmuring as the thick crowds parted.

Still holding on to her sister's cloak, Eliza twisted around to see a flash of red from the corner of her eye as Will made his determined way on foot through the crowd. They all parted before him immediately, a hush falling. He strode directly to the man who led the singing and grabbed him
by the front of his coat Eliza saw the flash of an orange badge pinned there, the sign of the Loyalist Orangemen.

"There are ordinances against disturbing the peace here," Will said firmly, giving the man a shake. "I must ask you to depart immediately."

The formerly arrogant man turned pale at the sight of an officer, but he muttered, "I break no laws by singing, surely."

"You incite violence in a public place, which is against the Insurrection Act." Will gave a humorless smile that made even Eliza shiver as he shoved the man toward the gates. "Go sing your drunken ditties in a tavern somewhere, boy. This is not the time or place."

The man backed away. "Perhaps not. But soon enough it will be, yes, Major? Soon you'll make the Liffey run with croppy blood."

Will turned on his heel, not deigning to answer. He didn't even seem to notice the onlookers. His grim stare landed on Eliza, and there was no mercy there.

She felt cold, icy cold, under that pitiless blue-green gaze, and she tugged her cloak closer around her as he marched away.

She rushed toward the gates, pulling her sister with her. The man's song had faded down the street, but the memory of it was too vivid. And Mr. Boyle waited at the gates.

"Lady Mount Clare," he said with a bow, his craggy face hidden by the broad brim of his hat. "Quite the spectacle, is it not?"

Eliza glanced back over her shoulder. No one paid them any heed, but they could not be too careful. Even work as seemingly innocuous as writing and printing pamphlets could lead to arrest and death.

"Anna," she said, trying to keep her tone light, "why don't you go ahead to the bookshop? It is not far, and I will be right behind you."

Anna gave her a doubtful frown, but she did go, quietly for once.
Quiet
was never a good sign with her sister, but Eliza had no time to worry about that now. She had only a moment to hear whatever Boyle's message might be.

"Indeed, it is a spectacle, Mr. Boyle," Eliza said softly.

"One we will see much more of in coming days," Boyle answered. He reached inside his coat, bringing out a small, sealed paper. "Will you be so kind as to deliver this to our friend Fitzgerald?"

"Of course," Eliza said, sliding the note into the fur muff over her arm. "Is that all?"

"For the moment. Your latest work has been a great success."

"I will have more in a few days."

"After the queen's birthday ball?"

"If all goes well." And if she could stay out of Will's way...

"Let us hope." He gave her another bow. "Good day, Lady Mount Clare."

As he left, disappearing into the milling crowd, Eliza tried to take a deep breath. She felt a sudden burning on the back of her neck and whirled around to find Will staring at her. His eyes fairly glowed with anger, even across the distance of the park. Had he seen the exchange, then? Did he know the significance of it from her stolen papers?

Her fist closed over the note in her muff, crushing it as she hurried away. She could still feel him watching, though, suspecting her as she turned the corner and headed for the bookshop.

Anna waited for her in the doorway, and at first, Eliza was relieved for the distraction of her presence. But Anna's lips were set in a stubborn line, and it was soon clear she would be yet more trouble.

"When I go back to Killinan," Anna said, "will you not come with me, Eliza?"

Eliza shook her head "I can't yet leave Dublin."

"But what if it's true?" Anna said stubbornly. It was obvious she had a thought in her head, one that would not be shaken free. "What if there are battles in the streets, houses burned? Blood in the river?"

'That won't happen," Eliza said, hurrying her sister into the shop. The note was like a rock in her hand. "You can stay with me until after the queen's birthday celebration next month. Then I'll join you at Killinan in the spring. In the meantime, I'm sure it will be more peaceful here than with Mama."

Anna ducked into a quiet aisle. "Then why can I not stay with you until the spring?"

"Mama has written that she needs you at home, to help with Caroline."

"I don't know why. Caro is always buried in her dull history books. She thinks I am quite the featherbrain."

The more fool Caro, then,
Eliza thought wryly. Anna saw so much behind that facade of golden curls and silken gowns—things others might wish she did not

"Perhaps that is why they need you," she said.
⁴⁴
To drag Caro out of her books and teach her some social graces. I'm sure Mama will want to marry her off soon enough, along with you."

"Shall we catch earls like you, Eliza?"

"I hope not," Eliza muttered.

"Of course not My heart is set on a duke, at the very least"

"Then you will have to go to London, for dukes are thin on the ground here."

"Or perhaps I will go to St Petersburg and find a Russian prince. They are quite plentiful there, or so I hear." They had come to a window, and Anna gazed at the carriages rattling by. "Where shall we go this evening?"

"I hardly know. Not St Petersburg, though," Eliza said. After the spectacle of military might, and seeing Will such a part of it all, she felt all turned around.

"Do you need to deliver that note?"

She glanced sharply at her sister. "Note?"

Anna gave her an innocent smile. "The one the man waiting at the gate gave you. Is it terribly important?"

"He is courting, one of the housemaids," Eliza said carelessly. Why, oh why, couldn't she have been born with finer acting skills?

"How romantic!"

"But not urgent Shall we go by the milliner's shop before we go home?"

"Oh yes! After I collect all the latest Minerva Press novels."

"P
erhaps you could buy some gifts for Caro, too," Eliza said. "To soften the blow of dance and deportment lessons."

"Quite right And an etiquette book for Mama! She always wants to be so sure she is absolutely correct"

As they turned toward the bookshelves, Eliza decided not to mention what was in the rest of their mother's latest letter. One of the tenants at Killinan had been arrested for hiding pikes in his barn, another for allegedly taking the
United Irish oath—both capital offenses.
Katheri
ne was worried what else might be behind the ordered little kingdom she had painstakingly built on her estate.

Eliza was sending Anna home thinking it was safer than Dublin. But was Will right? Should she send her family to London? Or was anyplace at all really safe?

Chapter 5

Lady Smythson's ball looked to be what in London would be called a "great crush," Eliza thought as she peered out the carriage window. They crept minutely forward toward the great house, which was near the assembly rooms on Rutland Square, hemmed in by other vehicles and by a flock of richly dressed pedestrians who had lost patience with the waiting.

Eliza rested her chin on her gloved hand, in no hurry to follow them. Dublin society was always in a vast hurry to get to their amusements, to dancing, cards, quarrels, flirtations. No more so than of late, when those amusements were life's best distractions. But Eliza felt strangely distant from it all, as if more than window glass separated her from the glittering desperation.