"Really?" said Lord Redburn again, offering her his arm. "You must tell me more. Why don't we take a stroll? The gardens are well lit, and I am sure you will not mind if we walk slowly."
She took his arm.
"Oh, no, my lord," she said. "I often used to accompany my father. A little exercise is of course good for the circulation, and … "
They wandered off sedately, arm in arm. Beth waited until she got home to do a triumphant and credible approximation of the Highland fling, if an amused Angus was to be believed.
The next morning the crested carriage of Lord Redburn was to be seen outside the London residence of Lord and Lady Winter. And again, two days later.
"They aren't actually married yet," Edwin protested. "Wasn't the wager only if they married?"
"Stop splitting hairs, Edwin. You're not at Westminster now," Caroline said. "He's proposed, she's accepted. The wedding is in June. We won. Give in and pay up. Now."
"Better do as she says," Sir Anthony sighed. "I think we must accept defeat on this one, and seek a more sure thing for our next wager."
"I will never make another bet with you two again," said Edwin, depositing five sovereigns into his wife's waiting hand. "I'm shocked by your deviousness, the pair of you. I don't know why the king doesn't pack you both off to Europe directly. Between you, I'm sure you could persuade Frederick of Prussia to give up his claim to Austria, and stop the war overnight."
"I must confess though, that I am not sorry you won the bet, my dears," Sir Anthony said to the two grinning women. "You were right. They are remarkably well suited."
Edwin watched the victors as they retired with their spoils.
"Just pray they never let women into Parliament, Anthony," he said. "The day they do, we men are doomed."
"We are already, dear boy," the baronet replied, eyeing his wife with admiration. "We let them into our hearts, and that's a far more dangerous place."
Sarah was also happy that her former mistress had won her bet, and that she had subtly spread the news that it was Miss Browne who had performed the amazing transformation of Anne Maynard. She was so inundated with customers that within a month she had to take on an assistant, and was contemplating the happy prospect of looking for larger premises.
CHAPTER THREE
August 1744
"Oh, that's nice," said Beth.
"What is?" asked Angus. "For God's sake, if it's something nice, share it with us. There's no' much that is at present."
Angus's uncharacteristic gloom was occasioned by the latest news filtering through from Paris, where Prince Charles was still resolutely residing against the wishes of the French King, who, as Charles's cause was of no current use to him, wanted nothing more than to be rid of the embarrassing Stuart prince. Vague promises had been made and broken; Charles had initially been told that his requirement to remain incognito would be lifted in June, and then no later than the end of July, then that it must continue a while longer. The prince was not stupid: he no longer believed that he would be allowed to serve in Louis' forces. Neither did he feel that he should bow his neck to the will of France, as his father's frantic letters from Rome kept advising him to do. In his view he had been treated badly by Louis.
And not only in his view, but also in the view of most of the royal families of Europe, his followers in Scotland and elsewhere, and even the pope, who tried never to take sides between Catholic monarchs. Forced to negotiate with Louis through the minister least sympathetic to Jacobite affairs, Philibert Orry, Comte de Vignory, Charles expressed his frustration by attending a series of high-profile balls and parties in Paris, making almost no effort to mask his identity, eliciting sympathy for his plight among the elite of France, and generally getting up Louis' duplicitous nose.
The reason for the current pessimism in the MacGregor household was because although the prince's attitude was understandable, alienating the monarch of the country most likely to support your family's restoration was not the best of ideas. The latest news was that John Murray of Broughton, who Alex and Beth had met briefly in Rome, had now gone to Paris to discuss the possibility of a Scottish rising, a plan to which Alex was vehemently opposed, unless it was accompanied by substantial French support, which did not seem likely at the moment.
Beth looked up from the letter she had been reading to see Angus, Iain and Maggie expectantly awaiting this ‘nice' news. At that moment, Alex and Duncan joined them, Alex freshly scrubbed clean of makeup, and both of them stockingless and barefoot.
"What's amiss?" said Alex immediately.
"Nothing," replied Maggie. "Beth has received some good news, that's all."
"Have you?" said Alex, smiling and coming to squash himself between Angus and Maggie on the sofa. "What's that, then?"
Beth felt awkward at the triviality of the news which had caused her earlier comment, in view of the eagerness now surrounding her.
"Em … well, it's nothing important, only that Jane and Thomas have offered Mary and Joseph the use of their house for their wedding feast."
"Better than a stable," Duncan commented. Beth pulled a face.
"I don't think they'd thank you for a comment like that," she said. "They must have heard them all by now. It's nice because they're limited as to where they can go, with them and many of their guests being Catholics. Both Mary and Joseph's landlords are Anglicans. They might turn a blind eye to their tenants' faith, but they'd never agree to them holding a party. Particularly in the current climate." The Act restricting the movements and activities of Catholics, revived the previous year, was still in force.
"Aren't Jane and Thomas Anglicans?" Alex asked.
"Yes, but they're very open-minded, I've already told you that. They know I'm Catholic. Graeme's Episcopalian, and so is John. Grace and Martha are Presbyterian. We were a real mish-mash. It made for very interesting conversation. But I'm sorry, my news was only really nice for me. It doesn't concern the rest of you at all. The wedding's in two weeks, so I'll have to leave next Wednesday if I'm to be sure of being there in time."
"It concerns me," said Alex. "I was included in the invitation too, was I no'?"
"Yes," said Beth. "Or rather Sir Anthony was. But I didn't think you'd want to come."
"Why ever not, my dear?" he replied in the baronet's affected tones. "Sir Anthony is well-known for his non-partisan attitudes. A Catholic wedding attended by Anglicans, Episcopalians and Presbyterians would be just the thing! In fact," he continued, reverting to his own rich Scottish accent. "I was thinking, if it's acceptable to everyone, tae combine a trip to the wedding wi' a wee journey home. I'm after thinking it's about time my wife became acquainted with her clan."
"Whether that's a good idea or no' depends on who's included on this wee journey home," said Iain.
"Aye. Well, Sir Anthony will certainly need both his personal manservants," he said, nodding to Duncan and Angus. "And a footman, in case any doors need opening. And it wouldna be fitting for my wife to travel wi' only men for company, so I suppose Maggie'll have to come along. We'll shut the house up for a month or so. We can use the wedding as an excuse to leave, and once that's over we can head officially north to somewhere near the border, and then Sir Anthony can disappear for a while. I can get news as well from home as here, maybe even easier, as there's nae chance of an English invasion at the minute, but a considerable likelihood of a Scottish one."
Angus leapt to his feet, dragging Maggie from the sofa and spinning her round the room in a joyous little dance.
"I think we can say that the news was nice for all of us after all, Beth," he said, beaming.
"Aye, mebbe," said Iain, trying unsuccessfully to scowl. "But it doesna give ye the right to make free with my wife, ye wee gomerel. Leave her be."
Angus ignored him, completed his turn round the room, bowed formally and escorted Maggie courteously back to her seat.
"We'd best start packing, then, had we no'?" he said, blue eyes sparkling.
They set off the following week, Sir Anthony, Beth, and her maid Margaret in the coach, Iain acting as coachman, and Angus and Duncan following on behind with a cart laden with provisions and gifts, ostensibly for the lucky couple, but in reality destined to continue to Scotland. With one or two exceptions.
"Oh, I can't believe it!" cried Mary, upon opening Sir Anthony and Beth's wedding present. Folded carefully in layers of tissue was a full tea set in green and white Sevres porcelain. There were also more practical gifts; bedding, pans, and kitchen utensils. But this was the one Beth had chosen carefully, as a personal present for her friend, who loved the expensive beverage, but rarely got to drink it. At the bottom of the box was a pound of the finest Bohea tea. Mary gave a little cry of delight, and lifted a cup from its wrappings, handling it with the utmost reverence.