Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

It was a great relief to be out of the house for a while, and Beth’s mood brightened considerably as she rode to the neighbouring village of Withington to meet Mary. Mary Williamson’s mother Sarah had been a close friend of Beth’s mother, and they had worked together as seamstresses before Ann was lucky enough to marry Henry Cunningham. In spite of the social differences now between them, the two women had remained close friends for the rest of their lives. Their daughters used to play together as children while their mothers talked, and had also become good friends. Mary was now employed as an embroiderer, but today was her half-day off, and Beth settled down happily in Mary’s small but pleasantly furnished room for an afternoon of relaxed chatting.

Mary was excited for two reasons; firstly because her employer had very generously provided her with a small quantity of the fashionable and expensive beverage tea, and had even loaned her a tea service so that she could really play the lady. The second reason, as she explained to Beth once they were sipping the fragrant brew, was that she had met a young man and was now courting seriously.

“He’s working in Manchester for Mr Thwaite, the gentleman’s tailor, but he’ll have the opportunity to become a partner in the firm once he’s of age. We’re saving every penny we can at the moment towards it. Once he’s a partner, we are going to be married. Oh, I don’t know how I’m going to wait two whole years! It is so difficult to say goodbye to him at the end of the day.”

She was really smitten. Beth smiled.

“As long as he feels the same way about you, I’m sure he’ll be willing to wait for you. Why do you have to wait until he’s a partner, though? With both your wages you should be able to rent a room together and live passably well.”

“Yes, we could. But then we wouldn’t be able to save anything. And Joseph has to buy his way into the firm. Mr Thwaite is being very generous, especially because Joseph’s a Catholic, and Mr Thwaite is Anglican. He only wants fifty pounds, but that’s a lot to us. And then Joseph’s father insists that we wait. He wants us to have a good start in life. He said he will give us twenty pounds at the end of the year. He’s right. After all, if we were to marry now, and then a baby came along straight away, we’d be trapped.” Mary had certainly thought it through.

“Will Father Kendall marry you or are you going to have a civil ceremony?” Beth asked.

“Father Kendall will marry us. We may have a civil ceremony as well, but as long as we’re married in the eyes of God, I couldn’t give a fig for the authorities. But when are you going to find a nice young man, Beth? Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could be married together?” Mary’s face creased as she saw Beth’s despondent look. “What have I said wrong?”

“That’s what my brother is asking,” Beth said sourly. “Although he’d have an apoplexy if I married a Catholic. He wants me to make a great match to get us out of our financial difficulties.” She went on to give an outline of Richard’s plan and her rejection of it, although she did not mention his manhandling her.

“Well, it would be one way of getting away from your brother, if he’s as horrible as he appears to be,” Mary said practically.

Beth let the conversation move on to lighter topics. She had come to see Mary to escape from her problems for a while, not to dwell on them.

It was early evening before they finished their visit, ending as was customary to them with a toast to the exiled Stuart King James, and Beth rode back with a light heart. She was truly happy for her friend. It seemed she had found a good and devout man, and someone who shared her Jacobite sympathies. Although that was not difficult in Manchester, which had a high proportion of supporters for the ‘king over the water,’ many of whom were particularly vociferous in their wishes for the current king, George II, to be sent packing back to Hanover where he belonged.

For the first time in her life she approached her home with a sinking heart.
This is ridiculous,
she thought.
I’m allowing Richard’s mood to affect me.

She made a conscious effort to cheer up, and entered the house with a bounce in her step. Richard was coming down the stairs, and actually smiled when he saw her. He had a scratch and a bruise on his left cheek.

“Did you have a pleasant day?” he asked jovially. Beth told herself she was being uncharitable for feeling suspicious at this uncharacteristic behaviour.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied carefully.

“I have just called for some light refreshment to be served in the library. Would you care to join me for a glass of wine?”

Beth accepted the olive branch, and after taking off her riding coat and hat, went into the library, where Grace was arranging a tray of cold meats and bread on a small table. Richard was already sitting down in a chair by the fire, and motioned Beth to the seat opposite him. Unusually he was not dressed in his uniform, but casually, in a pair of brown woollen breeches and a linen shirt. The room was warm, the rich golden wood panelling and shelves of books lending a cosy glow. Candles were burning in the wall sconces, and their father gazed down benignly at them from his portrait over the fire. It was a picture of domestic bliss, and Beth welcomed it with all her heart. She sank into her seat.

“What have you done to your face, Richard?” she asked, although she didn’t really care. “Have you been fighting?” There was an air of suppressed excitement about him.

He raised one hand to his cheek, as if he had only now become aware of his injury.

“Ah. No, I fell off my horse while riding through the woods. A branch caught me in the face. It was my own fault, I wasn’t concentrating on where I was going.”

“Is that why you’re not wearing your uniform?” she said. “Is it damaged?”

“No, just a little muddy,” he replied, smiling. “It needs cleaning, that’s all.”

There was a short silence while Beth tried to think of something else to say.

“Why are you serving, Grace?” she asked the chambermaid as she finished arranging the food. “Is Martha ill?”

Grace cast a wary look at Richard, who was sitting back in his chair in a relaxed pose, one ankle resting on the opposite knee.

“She’s left, Miss Elizabeth,” Grace said carefully, bobbing a curtsey.

The picture of domestic bliss shattered into a thousand pieces and tinkled to the floor.

“She’s left?” Beth echoed incredulously. “Why?”

Grace looked nervously at Richard again, who still didn’t respond.

“I don’t know, Miss,” she ventured after a pause. “She didn’t say.” Her eyes were huge, pleading silently with Beth not to pursue the matter.

“Thank you, Grace,” she said formally. “That will be all.” Grace left the room as hastily as she could without running. The moment the door had closed, Beth rounded on her brother.

“What have you done?” she asked. Richard regarded her over his glass of wine.

“Me?” he said. “I have done nothing. It is hardly my fault if a maid chooses to leave of her own accord.”

“Martha would not choose to just leave of her own accord,” Beth said. “Of all the servants in this household, she is the last one who would leave. Something has happened. What is it?”

“I have no idea, “Richard replied carelessly. “The steward fellow, Thomas, is it, came up earlier today to tell me that Martha had decided to leave, and requested that I pay her wages up to date.”

“And did you?” Beth asked.

“Of course I did. What do you take me for?”

“Did you give her a character? Where has she gone?”

“No, in answer to your first question, I do not consider someone who abandons their post on a whim to be deserving of a character. And as for where she has gone, well, that is no concern of ours. She has left the household. It is most tedious. I will look for a replacement for her tomorrow. Now can we enjoy our evening?”

“No,” said Beth flatly. “Do you know what you’ve done? Martha has little chance of obtaining another job, even with a good reference. She has none at all without one.”

“Ah, you mean because of the brat. I must confess I was a little surprised that you employed such an immoral woman. She’s no better than she should be, and a bad example to the others. Maybe it’s a blessing that she has decided to leave.” He was enjoying himself, and Beth knew she should let the matter go, but couldn’t.

“There is nothing wrong with Martha’s morals, Richard. She made a mistake, that’s all, and has paid dearly for it. She has also learnt from it.”

“She’s a slut, in my opinion,” Richard said, his voice rising slightly.

“How many women have you bedded, Richard?” Beth asked suddenly.

His colour rose slightly, but he maintained his casual demeanour.

“Very many, over the years,” he replied. “But I don’t see what...”

“And any one of those women could have gone on to have your child, and presumably become a slut as a result,” Beth interrupted, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Whereas you, no doubt, have become a great lover and a dashing man about town.”

“That is the way of the world, dear sister,” he replied coolly.

“It is not the way of
my
world. In my world a woman is not to be condemned for one mistake, nor to be branded a harlot for committing the same action that a man is commended for!”

“Your moral attitude disturbs me, Beth,” Richard replied, his voice suddenly stern. “But we can address that another time. For now I would remind you that this house is no longer your world, but mine. If you wish to have your own household, I suggest you comply with my suggestion of the other night. I am sure that you will have no difficulty in procuring a doting husband who will allow you to populate your house with whores from top to bottom.”

So that was it, Beth thought as she paced her bedroom later, too angry to think of sleeping. He was going to slowly erode her whole way of life, driving away as many of her servants as he could until she was completely isolated, in an attempt to wear down her resolve. He would not do it, she was determined.

She had taken some consolation from the staff. As soon as she had left her brother she had run to the kitchen, where Thomas, Jane and Graeme were enjoying supper. To her surprise they also had no idea why Martha had left. It seemed she had just appeared in the kitchen with her bag packed, holding the child Ann by the hand, and had announced her decision to leave immediately. Thomas had insisted she wait while he got the wages she was due, and whilst he was upstairs the others had questioned her as to why she was leaving and what she would do. Her eyes had been red and she was obviously upset, but she would not be drawn, saying only that she was leaving of her own accord, that she would stay with a friend for a few days and would contact them soon.

In common with Beth, they were certain Richard had had a hand in the matter, but there was no proof, and all Beth could do was promise to write a good character for Martha, in the hopes that she would get in touch as she had promised. She had expressed her concern that they would all leave, one by one, and Thomas and Graeme both pointed out that they, along with Jane and John would be very difficult to replace and therefore were unlikely to be dismissed, and would not leave under any other circumstances while their mistress still needed them. Their loyalty had reduced Beth to tears and determined her to fight her brother all the way, if she could not bring him round by reasonable means, which seemed increasingly unlikely.

* * *

She avoided him as much as possible over the next few days. He had settled into a habit of incarcerating himself in the library during the evening with a bottle of claret, and sleeping late in the mornings as a consequence. Being an early riser by nature, this meant that Beth had breakfasted before her brother even woke, and consequently the only shared time they had was at dinner, which she had no way of getting out of except by being rude. Once a week she would visit Mary, and when the weather permitted, it now being late October, she would go for long rides through the fields and woods behind the house. When the weather was inclement, she would stay in the parlour, or retire to her bedroom to read or sew. Richard had taken over the household accounts and would sit for hours poring over the complex figures. He was obviously not particularly numerate, but Beth did not volunteer to assist him and he would not request her help.

Two days after Martha left, Richard announced at dinner that he had found a replacement, who would start the next day. Beth eyed the new girl with some concern. Although she was dressed respectably enough, her apron clean and her brown hair neatly braided and covered by a kerchief, there was something slatternly about her, and she had a sly smile that Beth found irritating. She told herself she was being unfair to the girl and did her best to make Sarah feel at home, until she went up to her room one day and found the kitchen maid at her writing desk, in the act of opening one of the little drawers where Beth kept her paper and spare quills.

“What are you doing?” Beth asked. Sarah jumped as though she’d been shot and slammed the drawer shut.

“I was just doing a bit of cleaning, Miss Elizabeth,” she replied after a pause.

Beth looked at her sceptically. She had no cleaning implements with her at all.

“It seems my brother has not explained your duties to you, Sarah,” Beth said icily. “Your job is to assist Mrs Fletcher in the kitchen and to wait on table. You have no duties in any other rooms in the house.”

The maid sketched the briefest curtsey propriety allowed, and without answering, walked towards the door, smiling slightly as she passed Beth. Beth threw her leg back and kicked the door shut. Sarah stopped, momentarily confused.

“Listen to me,” Beth said in a commanding tone. “I have no idea where my brother got you from, but if I see you in my room again you will be going straight back there, do you understand?”

Sarah smiled. “The master told me that only he could dismiss me, Miss,” she said smugly.

Beth fought the urge to knock the smugness off the maid’s face with her fist, and instead smiled herself, so coldly that Sarah’s own grin faltered.

“It is true my brother is the master here,” she said icily. “But believe me, if I wish to, I can make your life a living hell. If I see you anywhere near my room, or if you speak to me in a disrespectful way again, I will do just that, with the greatest pleasure. You will beg my brother to let you leave before I have finished with you. Do you understand?”