Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (5 page)

“I’m as sorry as you,” Beth said. “I assume Richard’s sympathies lie with King George. Until I know how open minded he is, and what he feels about Jacobites, I think we’d better keep our political sympathies to ourselves. I think it’ll be better if you stop calling King George ‘the Elector,’ for a while, John.”

“I’ll be damned if I’ll call him the king!” John growled. Graeme nodded agreement.

“I don’t expect you to do that. Don’t call him anything at all, just be discreet,” Beth suggested.

She looked at the sea of dismayed faces.

“It’s not all bad,” she said unconvincingly. “Now Richard’s here, he’ll be able to access the accounts and pay you all what you’re owed.”

There was no change of expression from the others.

“And if the worst comes to the worst,” she said desperately, “he’ll have to rejoin his unit in April. How much damage can he do in six months?”

* * *

Judging by the amount he managed to achieve over the next ten days, a great deal, Beth thought sourly as she went down to dinner the following week. She had done her absolute best to welcome him to the house, taking pains to find out what his favourite foods were, ensuring his linen was washed and ironed and his coat brushed. John had been instructed to take special care of Richard’s horse, although they could ill afford the extra hay to feed it, and Beth had attended her brother at every meal, asking after his welfare and trying to engage him in conversation, to little avail. He was a taciturn man, and after two evenings of monosyllabic answers to her queries about his adventures during the intervening years since she had last seen him, she had given up and had taken to eating mainly in silence, after a few polite comments, and retiring to the parlour with a book as soon as she had finished her meal.

The only thing approaching a conversation they had had was three days after his arrival, when he had expressed an intention to dismiss John. When she had asked why, he had told her that he found the boy insolent and over-familiar. Beth had informed him patiently that he was used to being treated as part of the family, as were all the servants, but that she was certain he would adjust. When Richard had still seemed inclined to get rid of the stable boy, she had not argued with him, but had pointed out that John single-handedly took care of every aspect of the stables, and also helped out with other heavy chores in the house and garden, when needed. She suggested sweetly that Richard wait until he could find someone else who would take on such a workload for the salary John received, before dismissing him. Richard had not argued, to her surprise, and as far as she was concerned that was the end of the matter.

 She had been impressed by her brother’s reasonable attitude, and thought it boded well for the future, although he had been no more garrulous since then.

When she entered the room that evening he was poring over some paperwork, the carefully laid dinner service pushed to one side and a candle pulled close to the papers. As she went to her place, he looked up at her, his brow furrowed. He had been to see the solicitor that morning and was still wearing his uniform, although he had removed his wig. His red coat suited his sallow complexion and dark hair, she thought, and was on the point of telling him, hoping he would appreciate the compliment, when to her surprise he spoke to her first.

“We have to find a way to challenge the will, Beth,” he said. “There must be something we can do. It’s absurd that we should be left in this ridiculous position.”

Beth had already discussed this possibility with Edward Cox the solicitor, who was also a family friend. She took her place and sat down.

“Did Mr Cox have any suggestions?” she said.

Richard shook his head. “No, he said the will is watertight, and although he’s sure Father would have changed it had he known how badly his investments were performing, the fact is he didn’t. So now we’re in the ridiculous position of having to live on two hundred a year, while your dowry of twenty thousand pounds is held in trust and accumulating interest at three per cent a year.” He swept the papers impatiently to one side, overturning the candle in the process. With a soldier’s quick reflex, he caught it as it fell, and a little spilt wax on the tablecloth was the only damage.

“Did you find out how much ready cash we have available at the moment?” Beth queried.

Richard started to retrieve his cutlery and glassware, and looked toward the door impatiently. Martha was late with the soup.

“Yes,” he said. “The interest is paid quarterly, and the last quarter’s had not been touched, so there was six months’ worth of interest in the account.”

Beth did a quick mental calculation.

“Well, that’s not too bad,” she said. “By the time...”

“Damn it to hell, Beth! How can you say it’s not bad?!” Richard shouted suddenly, smashing his fist onto the table so hard the cutlery leapt in the air. Beth jumped, and Martha, who had just opened the door and was entering with the soup, almost dropped it. She hovered uncertainly in the doorway, clearly unwilling to approach her master in his current mood. Beth beckoned her in with what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. Neither of them spoke further until the maid had served them both and disappeared, which she did as quickly as possible.

Beth took a spoonful of the thick vegetable broth.

“It really isn’t too bad,” she ventured again, ignoring her brother’s glowering countenance. “Even after we’ve paid the servants what we owe them, and the butcher...oh and I owe Sam for a new horseshoe as well...we’ll still have enough to get by on if we’re careful. We’ve got enough hay for the horses, and plenty of flour, apples and potatoes. Once the pig...” Richard shot her a look of such venom, she stopped mid-sentence.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he said slowly, as though speaking to a small child. Beth gritted her teeth, but waited for him to continue. “I am only earning a sergeant’s pay. We cannot live any sort of decent lifestyle on what we have. I will never get promotion unless I can buy a commission. Do you really want to live the rest of your life counting every penny?”

Beth was about to say she had spent the last three years doing just that and was quite happy with the life she had, but realised it would probably not be prudent, seeing as he was so clearly not content with his life.

“I don’t see what alternative we have, Richard,” she said patiently. Normally forthright and honest, she was already getting sick of pussyfooting around her brother. How she was going to cope with six months of this, she had no idea.

The second course arrived. Beth looked at the roast beef and gravy on her plate with distaste. She didn’t know how she was going to cope with the new menu for six months either. Richard was an advocate of ‘good plain English food’, which consisted of roast meat, gravy, a few overcooked vegetables on the side which he usually ignored, and stodgy suet-based puddings. All this was washed down with copious quantities of beer. Before Richard’s arrival, Beth had procured a French cookery book and had spent many a happy hour in the kitchen with Jane, translating the recipes and experimenting with different ingredients to create unusual dishes that were often delicious and at the very least varied.

She pushed the food around her plate with her fork. Richard was building up to saying something, so she kept quiet. At least it would be a change for him to fill the silence instead of her.

“There is an alternative,” he said at last, round a mouthful of beef. He swallowed, and took a swig of beer. “We can write to our cousins and renew our acquaintance with them.”

“We don’t have an acquaintance with them to renew,” Beth pointed out. “You haven’t seen them since you were a small child, and I had one dreadful afternoon there years ago. That hardly constitutes an acquaintance. They disowned us, Richard. I’m not going begging to them now.”

“Lord Edward didn’t disown us, it was his father who did that,” Richard retorted. “And even he didn’t disown
us
. It was your mother he really objected to. It’s about time we put the past behind us.”

“If you want to put the past behind you, go ahead,” Beth answered, still in a reasonable tone. “I have no intention of doing so. Uncle William hurt Mama dreadfully with his pompous condescending attitude, and from what I saw of his son on my brief visit, he’s an exact copy of his father.”

Richard stared at his sister in exasperation. He had thought about this for days, and had formulated a plan. But it required Beth’s co-operation. If he outlined it to her, she was bound to understand the logic behind it.

“Beth, I cannot do this on my own. It’s you who has the huge dowry. If we renew our acquaintance with Lord Edward, it will give us contacts with society. We will maybe be able to go to London for the season, who knows, maybe even to Court.” Richard smiled, as he imagined the dashing sergeant and his extraordinarily beautiful sister taking the capital by storm. “You’re beautiful, you must know that, Beth. You will have no shortage of wealthy bachelors proposing to you. It will be the making of us.” There, he had said it. She would be bound to agree.

“You have forgotten one or two crucial things,” Beth said coolly. “Firstly, as you so rightly pointed out, we have little money. Certainly we don’t have the money to buy the clothes and other ridiculous fripperies we would need to cut a figure in society. And secondly, even if we miraculously came by such a sum and I was proposed to by someone I loved enough to marry, it would be he who got my dowry. You and I would be no richer for it.”

Richard sighed. He had had little experience with women, whores and camp followers excepted, but had thought they would have
some
capacity for reason.

“I’m sure that our cousins would be happy to help. Lord Edward’s sisters are dried-up old prunes with more money than sense. I’m certain that it would give them great pleasure to launch their cousin into society. And we wouldn’t be looking for a love match, Beth, but someone who would be willing to buy me a cornet’s commission, and who could keep you in luxury. Just think,” he concluded enthusiastically, “you could say goodbye to this place for ever!” He smiled broadly at her.

He looked almost handsome when he smiled, she thought, and realised it was the first time he
had
smiled since returning home. Reluctant as she was to destroy his jovial mood, she had no intention of co-operating with his plan.

“You ask too much of me,” she said after a moment. “Not only do you want me to be disloyal to my mother by cultivating a friendship with people who rejected her for no good reason, but you also want me to go cap in hand, begging for favours from them. Then you want me to sell myself into slavery to some court fop so that you can get promotion.” She threw her napkin down on the table and stood up, her meal untouched. “If you want promotion you will have to concoct another plan. You go and beg to them if you want. Maybe you can bag yourself a wealthy heiress.”

She made her way towards the door, which started to open as she reached it. In a flash Richard leapt from his seat and reached the door before her, slamming it shut in the startled Martha’s face and standing with his back to it.

“Let me past,” she said coldly. When he didn’t move, she reached past him towards the doorknob, certain he would stand aside when he realised she had no intention of staying to listen to any more of this rubbish.

Instead he reached out and gripped her by both arms, pulling her round to face him. Startled, she pulled against his grip, but he squeezed tighter. His mouth twisted.

“Do you know nothing of society life, you little fool?” he said, shaking her. “It is not possible for a sergeant in the dragoons to marry a wealthy heiress, even if I were the most handsome man in Christendom. Beautiful women on the other hand, marry above themselves all the time. Particularly when they have a huge dowry!” His voice rose almost to a shout on the last sentence.

“I am not like you, Richard,” she replied, struggling to break his grip. “I’m quite happy living here. I have no great ambitions, and even if I did, I would not demean myself to achieve them.” She kicked out at him, but to little effect, hampered as she was by her skirts. “Let me go, Richard, you’re hurting me!” she shouted, enraged.

 Instead of complying with her wish, he dug his fingers deeper into her biceps, smiling as she cried out. A muscle twitched in his cheek, and she realised with horror that he was actually enjoying her pain. Then he released her suddenly with a push, and she staggered backwards. He opened the door and turned back to her.

“Take a little time to think about it,” he said. “It’s the only reasonable solution.”

“I don’t need any time,” she retorted coldly. “I will not change my mind.”

She moved forward again to pass him and he pushed the door closed slightly, impeding her exit, although he made no attempt to seize her again.

“Oh, you will, sister,” he said quietly. “You will.” He opened the door wider and she took the opportunity to escape, making herself walk slowly, and not run as she wanted to. She was uncomfortably aware of his eyes following her as she mounted the stairs, and she reached her room with a feeling of the utmost relief.

It was the first time her brother had touched her, and was a far cry from the fraternal embrace she had hoped for when he had first arrived. Normally inclined to look for the best in anyone, she began to suspect that Graeme had been more accurate in his assessment of Richard than she had thought, and prayed that her suspicions were wrong.

Chapter Two

She expected him to badger her day and night to accede to his plan, but to her surprise he did not. Instead he was almost affable over the next two days, which although probably intended to reassure her, had the opposite effect. When she told him of her intention to visit a friend, Mary, who lived in the nearby village of Withington, he didn’t demur at all, but expressed the wish that she have a pleasant time. She would have thought that he had resigned himself to their financial circumstances, had it not been for the fact that she was not stupid, and that the attitude of the servants continued to deteriorate. They no longer spoke to her in the familiar relaxed manner she was used to, and called her ‘Miss Elizabeth’ as Richard had commanded, rather than ‘Beth’ as she preferred. They seemed to be constantly hurrying from one place to another, with no time to stop for a chat, and there was a general hunted look about all of them except Graeme, Thomas and Jane, who were too old to be so easily cowed, although even they were growing more reserved with each passing day. Beth made a resolution to arrange a meeting with them all as soon as possible in order to find out exactly what was going on. She had seen no signs that Richard was actually abusing them, although he was, as she had feared, very strict and demanding. She still had hopes that he would relax with them in time, as he now seemed to be doing with her.