The Spider's Touch (18 page)

“I hope her Grace was not harmed!”

Ormonde shook his head, but his mind was clearly on something else. “For the past two weeks, they’ve had men posted on that road. They’re hoping to kill me.”

At Gideon’s anxious exclamation, he made a negligent gesture.

“I’ve nothing to fear from them,” he said. “I’ve dodged more bullets than they can even imagine. And I doubt there’s a military man among them, while all my servants have killed their man in battle.

“
And
, if they think that Marlborough will stop King James from coming and save their hides, they’re even bigger fools than he. As soon as Marlborough realizes he’s backed a losing side, he’ll be begging James to forgive him. There’s never been a man with an eye for the main chance like the Duke of Marlborough.”

Gideon tried to turn his thoughts away from his rival and pressed for answers that he never received. If anything, the Duke grew more equivocal, citing the poor store of arms in the West Country, where the rebellion was planned to start. He also referred to the advice he’d received from other Jacobites, which apparently had made him cautious, when what the Pretender wanted was action—and soon.

Gideon tried to get some notion of a date that he could take back to James, but in the end he left with nothing, merely the same platitudes James had been receiving for years.

In a dearth of spirits, Gideon wondered how he could face the Stuart prince in Lorraine and tell him that he could do nothing still but wait.

* * * *

The evening that Hester and her family spent with Mrs. Jamison passed tediously, since it was devoted entirely to convincing Dudley of the advantages he would enjoy in the married state. The next was June 9, and Isabella had invited Sir William and Lady Hobbes with their daughter, Mrs. Agnes Hobbes, to see if the young lady—or her purse, at least—could capture Dudley’s heart. Isabella had provided for her own amusement, by including Lord Lovett and Sir Humphrey on her list of guests.

The hour appointed for their guests’ arrival had almost struck, when Harrowby came home in a terrible state. As he tottered into the salon, his pallor was so alarming that Isabella rushed to help him to a sofa. Her mother produced a smelling-bottle from the pocket of her gown, and while she waved it beneath his nose, Hester went to the door and told a footman to bring his lordship a glass of Canary wine.

By the time he returned with a bottle, Harrowby was ready to tell them about the fright he’d had. But he waited to begin until the footman had closed the door.

“What’s happened, Lambikin?” Isabella asked.

“The Committee of Secrecy delivered its report,” Harrowby gasped. “Walpole ordered the lobby cleared of strangers. Then, he gave orders for the back door to be locked so none of us could escape or run to warn the others. He even posted a sergeant at the door.” Harrowby paused to take a deep breath. “Mathew Prior and Thomas Harley have been arrested.”

His ladies stared open-mouthed, as he went on, “His Grace of Ormonde is accused of acting in concert with the French. Even Shrewsbury is implicated.”

“What about Lord Oxford?” Hester asked.

“Oh, they haven’t finished with Harley yet. Walpole read his report until six o’clock before he would let us go. Tomorrow we’ll take up the discussion about Harley and some of the others. It was a blood-bath, I tell you!

“Mrs. Kean—” Harrowby sat up suddenly and grasped her wrist— “Did you send that letter to James Henry?”

“Yes. I had one of the grooms ride down with it. He should have received it by now.”

Harrowby fell back onto the cushions in relief. “Thank God! But I must have him here. I shan’t know what to say if they question me about the old gentleman’s papers. You must send someone to fetch him immediately.”

Hester promised that she would that very evening, but first she wanted to hear more about what had occurred in Parliament that day.

By posing questions, she was able to learn that the accusations all involved the negotiations for peace with France. Lords Oxford and Bolingbroke were charged with misrepresenting the Queen’s wishes. Many of her letters had not been countersigned.  The Great Seal had not even been affixed. This gave the appearance that the former ministers were trying to protect themselves by neglecting to put their names to anything in case their actions were ever examined.

The Whigs complained that the treaty should have forced the French to hand the Pretender over to the English. Instead, they were fairly certain that the ministers, with the Queen’s consent, had bribed the Duke of Lorraine to take her brother into his care, had obtained a passport for him from the Emperor, and had paid a large sum of money for his upkeep.

The Duke of Ormonde had acknowledged receiving orders from Bolingbroke, while acting as general in the field, not to engage in any siege or battle against the French, but not to divulge this order to anyone else and to hinder its being suspected. This, while he was still under order from the Queen to wage war in concert with the other members of the Great Alliance, who were kept completely in the dark.

That was all that Hester was able to wring from Harrowby, before Isabella and her mother recalled the imminent arrival of their guests. Harrowby was sufficiently soothed by this time to be handed to his valet Philippe and made ready for the evening’s engagement.

Hester sent for another groom to go to Rotherham Abbey, telling him to fetch Mr. Henry as soon as possible.

Harrowby’s revelations and the manner in which he had delivered them had awakened her concern. If St. Mars had not heard of today’s events—and she did not see how he could—she would have much to report to him tomorrow night.

 Isabella and her mother easily dismissed the day’s events in the pursuit of their own ends, but Hester wondered what sort of impression the report had made on the gentlemen. Sir Humphrey was not a member of Parliament, but Lord Lovett had presumably attended the House of Peers, and Sir William, for all she knew, might occupy a seat in the Commons.

When their visitors arrived, though, nothing was said about the day, which made her suspect that none of them had heard the news. Harrowby was grateful for the change in conversation, and the evening began in a normal way.

Mrs. Mayfield had warned Dudley to be on his best behaviour, if he wanted to achieve the best bargain in his marriage contract. Unfortunately, however, the young lady’s beauty was far from equal to the attractions of her fortune, since her complexion had been sadly disfigured by the smallpox. When Dudley pulled a face behind Mrs. Agnes’s back, Mrs. Mayfield whispered angrily that her face was nothing for him to care about. And, when he showed signs of disputing her assertion, she pinched him viciously on the arm, telling him to put his mind to business or she would tell Lord Hawkhurst to send him packing home.

Dudley complied, but with a sour expression quite unlike his usual cheer, and Mrs. Mayfield had to spend the first many minutes of the evening making up for his lack of courtesy by speaking with forced gaiety to Sir William and Lady Hobbes.

Isabella divided the party among three tables, with herself, Lord Lovett, Sir William, and Mrs. Jamison at one, Lady Hobbes, Harrowby, and Mrs. Mayfield at another, and Sir Humphrey, Dudley, and Mrs. Agnes at the third. Hester was never expected to play when piquet was the game of choice, since it could be played as easily with three as four, and she had no money to wager. Being excluded from the tables never bothered her since she preferred to sit in a corner and read a book from Lord Hawkhurst’s library.

But tonight, as the company was settling into their chairs, Mrs. Mayfield pulled her aside and, in an anxious whisper, ordered her to stay near Dudley and make certain that he did not drink too much.

“For I shall be too busy to keep my eye on him,” Mrs. Mayfield said. “I mean to try my luck with Lady Hobbes. If her husband is as rich as Croesus, as they say he is, she can afford to lose, so you will have to watch Dudley in my stead.”

Hester listened in some confusion. “But how can I stop Dudley from drinking if he wants to?”

“I did not say you had to stop him, foolish girl! A strange thing it would be, indeed, if you stopped your mistress’s brother from enjoying himself! I only want you to sit near, so you can—” And, here, Mrs. Mayfield broke off, gazing away as if unable, or unwilling, to explain precisely what she wanted. She left her with these unhelpful words, “Just keep your wits about you. I shall know who to blame if anything goes wrong.”

Chapter Eight

Better for Us, perhaps, it might appear,

Were there all harmony, all virtue here;

That never air or ocean felt the wind;

That never passion discomposed the mind.

But
ALL
subsists by elemental strife;

And Passions are the elements of Life.

The general O
RDER
, since the whole began,

Is kept in Nature, and is kept in Man.

I. v.

Three long hours later, Hester was finding it hard to stay alert. She had placed her chair beside Dudley’s, as if for the pleasure of watching him play. Feigning any degree of amusement had been difficult, since her appetite for cards had never been great enough to make another person’s hand a matter of fascination to her. The players’ conversation, too, had lacked wit. Sir Humphrey and Dudley had discussed their common passion for shooting in all its aspects, from the extraordinary talents of their dogs and horses to anecdotes of particular hunts. They had become so friendly over this topic—and a considerable quantity of wine—that each had extended the other an invitation to visit his country estate in order to sample the regional sport.

Hester thought she understood her aunt’s concern, as this was not the sort of conversation likely to entertain a girl born and bred in the heart of London. Clearly the quantity of spirits both gentlemen had imbibed had made them forget their manners. But Hester could not have prevented them from getting into this state. The footmen, who had orders to keep every decanter full, had liberally supplied them both, and the two gentlemen had become so cheerful that it would have seemed churlish for Hester to interfere.

From shooting, Dudley moved on to describe the race match just run at Merrow Downes, the various horses, and the winner of the biggest plate. Again, poor Mrs. Hobbes was excluded, and her pock-marked face grew rigid with offense. Hester hoped that soon she would look back on this evening and be grateful that she had been warned away from taking Dudley in time. It was unlikely now that she would be drawn in by Mrs. Mayfield’s machinations. Not if this was an example of what life with Dudley would be like.

Hester felt sorry for the girl, who had a look of intelligence behind her shyness. She would have made an attempt to draw her out—and she was certain her aunt would blame her for not doing so when the match was refused—if she had not been placed on the other side of the table from her. She couldn’t address any comments to Mrs. Hobbes without cutting across the gentlemen’s conversation.

For a moment, she thought a change of subject might give her the chance she’d been hoping for. Sir Humphrey suddenly looked up at her and said, “I remember now. The rest of us were at Lady Oglethorpe’s the night of the first race. That is the reason I missed it, for I usually attend. Wouldn’t have missed the twelve-stone race for the world if the Queen were still with us. And neither would she, God bless her soul! How her Majesty did love a good match! But with the Queen not there, we went to Lady O’s instead.”

Then, a thought furrowed his brow, and he continued, as if working his way through a fog, “But we weren’t all at my lady’s that night. My Lord Hawkhurst went to see the matches. I believe he rode with the King. And you, Adrian—” he turned to speak to Lord Lovett, seated at the table behind him—” you were supposed to go to Kensington on business.” Sir Humphrey’s round eyes clouded, as if the wine he had drunk had confused him. “But you did not go to Kensington, did you? I saw you later in Arlington Street.”

Lord Lovett paused in dealing the cards. The glance he threw at Sir Humphrey conveyed a rare degree of irritation—as well it might, given the reproachful pout Isabella had directed his way. She had been flirting shamelessly with him all evening and was not very pleased to discover that he had been somewhere else that night.

Lord Lovett appeared to find this evidence of her jealousy rewarding, for his irritation vanished as quickly as it had come. He gave Isabella a tantalizing  smile. “I was sorry to miss seeing you, of course, but it was not at all certain that you would be visiting Lady Oglethorpe that night. And,
sadly,
” he drawled most shamelessly, “there are times when a gentleman is forced to seek his entertainment in places where he is more likely to find it. Clearly the loss was mine.” He gave an inclination of his head, meant as a compliment to Isabella.

She was not appeased, since everything he said and the manner in which he delivered it implied either a dalliance with another woman or a visit to one of the many bawdy houses in the neighbourhood of St. James’s. She betrayed no embarrassment at the suggestion, however, only pique.

Embarrassment fell to Hester, whose cheeks grew warm. She was praying that Mrs. Hobbes was too naive to understand the drift of their talk, when Dudley’s voice cut in.

“Why the devil are you waiting? It’s your turn to play.”

Sir Humphrey, who, in his drunken haze, did not appear satisfied, had just been about to ask Lord Lovett something else. But the peremptory note in Dudley’s voice made him jump, so he jerked his attention back to the table.

“Odso! So it is!” he said, studying his cards.

Lord Lovett cast a look at his friend. His thoughts were unreadable, but Hester imagined that there was a degree of exasperation behind them. If he truly had a conquest of Isabella in mind, then he could not appreciate the indiscretion.

She was hardly aware of having stared at Lord Lovett. But, as he turned back to resume his play, his eyes met hers and held. Reading assessment in his gaze, Hester felt herself growing warm again. She quickly glanced away, but not before seeing a mocking smile on his features.