The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3)(43)

"Beth met Lord Daniel there," supplied Anthony. "It was the first time you'd seen him since our wedding eve, was it not, my dear?"

"Yes," she affirmed neutrally.

"He was travelling with his father, who is looking in superlative health," said Anthony, as though they had all enjoyed a pleasant chat together.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Edwin. "Highbury is an excellent fellow. Such a shame his only son is turning out to be a wastrel. You had a fortunate escape there, Beth."

"I certainly did," she said, shuddering.

Freddie dropped the ball on the rug, and Caroline popped him down beside it and reached for the servants' bell.

"How many calls have you made today?" she asked. "Have you had tea at Isabella's?"

"No, you're our first port of call," said Beth. "We couldn't bear to face my cousins first thing. We thought to ease our way back into London society gently."

"Then you haven't heard the news?" said Edwin. "I thought it was strange that you hadn't mentioned it, but then we have been making you eat humble pie for the last ten minutes."

"What news?" said Beth and Anthony together.

"Lord Redburn is dead," said Edwin. "He died three weeks ago. That's why Caroline wrote to you in Manchester, hoping you'd be there."

There was a shocked silence. Caroline rang the bell.

"Shall I call for something stronger than tea?" she asked.

"Aye," said Sir Anthony.

Caroline waited. Beth tried to catch his eye but he was looking away from her, distracted by the news.

"You what, Anthony?" she prompted gently. He looked at her, puzzled. "You said ‘I … ' and then stopped. What were you going to say?"

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, only the slight widening of his eyes showing that he had realised his slip and was appalled by it. "I can't believe it, was what I was thinking. I hadn't realised I'd spoken aloud. Yes, Caroline, some wine would be excellent, if you don't mind. God, what a shock. He seemed to be recovering his health under Anne's care."                       
       
           



       

"That's what everyone is saying," said Edwin. "I hated to admit it, but you two were right to coerce them into marriage. They were perfect for each other. He doted on Anne. She really blossomed, became a lot more confident. And she even managed to get him on to that milk diet you were so anxious to stop her talking about. He was losing weight, going for regular walks. We all thought he was getting better."

"How did he die?" asked Beth.

"The carriage had dropped them off at Birdcage Walk and they were strolling along together, when all of a sudden, according to Anne, he clutched at his chest, said something about not feeling quite the thing, and fell down on the path."

"The poor woman," said Anthony. "She must have been hysterical."

"Not a bit of it," put in Caroline. "She behaved admirably. She tried to revive him herself for a few minutes, and then she ordered some men who were passing to carry him to the carriage. After that she drove like the devil to Warwick Lane and demanded the attention of the most senior physician at the College. And got it. But there was nothing anyone could do. Lord Redburn was already dead."

"The funeral wasn't held until last Thursday, because she insisted on having an enormous send-off for him," said Edwin. "It cost a fortune. She gave out nearly two hundred mourning rings alone. There were four coaches, all covered in black, and a huge tea afterwards. I don't want to rub it in, but she was very upset that you couldn't be there."

Sir Anthony lifted his arm, stopping himself from rubbing his hand through his hair just in time. Instead he reached across to pick up his glass of wine from the tray which the servant had placed on the table.

"We will have to visit her, of course. We will go directly after we leave here," he said.

"I would go home and get changed first, if I were you," said Caroline, eyeing her friend's clothing with a critical eye. "I don't think Anne will appreciate you turning up dressed like a daffodil, Anthony, delightful as you look. After the funeral she went to pieces, and Charlotte has been her almost constant companion ever since. Need I say more?"

Beth and Anthony both groaned in unison.

"I'm sure she'll come round in time, though," said Edwin. "After all, Charlotte was left with only memories of her poor dear Frederick. Redburn has left Anne stinking rich, as you pointed out when you were matchmaking, Beth. Once she realises that she's no longer dependent on anyone, I'm sure she'll regain the confidence she developed while she was married."

"Stinking rich is not all Stanley Redburn left her, though," Caroline said. "He also left her three months pregnant."



Beth was uncharacteristically silent on the way home.

"You're not that distressed about Lord Redburn, are you?" her husband asked. "It's not as though you knew him well, after all."

"No," said Beth. "I feel sorry for Anne, though. I never envisaged him dying so quickly. I was hoping she'd get the time to develop a little, away from the influence of the Winters."

"It sounds as though she did, from what Caroline and Edwin said."

Silence.

"Are you worried because of my slip?" he said. "I won't do it again. I'm going to speak only in English for the next two days, just to make sure."

"No, I'm sure you'll be fine," she said. "I couldn't understand at first why you told them about Edinburgh though, but of course if Daniel or his father talks about seeing us there, it would look strange if we hadn't mentioned it."

"Exactly. But I didn't think there was any need to mention the unpleasantness. William won't say anything and his son definitely won't be keen to chat about his humiliation."

Silence.

"I know what it is that's bothering you," said Alex as the coach pulled up outside the house. "You're regretting your choice of husband. You're thinking that if you'd known Lord Redburn was going to die this quickly, you'd have married him instead of me and have been a rich widow now, instead of being saddled with an impoverished fraudster who could live for another fifty years."

That made her smile, at least. He jumped down from the coach and she took his hand. They walked up the steps and into the house together.

"I'll go and change," said Beth, making for the stairs. Alex retained his grip on her hand and put his other hand under her chin, tilting her head up to his.

"Beth," he asked. "What's wrong?"                       
       
           



       

To his astonishment tears sprang instantly to her eyes.

"It's not fair. Everyone's pregnant!" she cried. "Everyone except me!"



"It's true," she sniffed a few minutes later, sitting on his knee in the library. "First Caroline, and then Janet  –  she's only just had one, and she's already pregnant again, and then Maggie, and now even Anne Maynard! Redburn," she amended. "What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Beth," said Alex.

"There must be!" she said. "We've been married for over a year, and it's hardly as though we haven't been trying."

"Caroline and Edwin were married for five years before they had Freddie," Alex pointed out. "And Maggie and Iain have been trying at least as much as us for the last three years."

"Anne must have fallen pregnant almost immediately," countered Beth, "and Janet was pregnant before she even got married! Are you very disappointed?" she asked. "I know you haven't said anything, but you must be." She had thought of little else since Maggie's expected announcement three days ago. The baby was due in April.

Alex's painted face creased in consternation.

"This is the first time I've thought about it, and that's the truth. I'm no' disappointed, not a bit of it," he said, forgetting his intention to speak only English. "We're young and healthy, and if God intends us to have bairns, he'll send us some."

"And if he doesn't?" she whispered.

"If he doesna, then I'll still thank him every day for giving me you," said Alex firmly.

"But what about the clan?" she said. "Won't they expect you to have a son to take over the chieftainship?"

"Not at all," he said. "They'll accept sons of Duncan or Angus just as easily, if they're worthy. Aye, I ken Duncan isna likely to marry again, but I'm sure there are already one or two wee Anguses toddling around France and Italy and even London." He knew it was unlikely even as he said it, hoping to reassure her. Prostitutes were extremely knowledgeable in the art of terminating unwanted pregnancies, and Angus, reckless as he could be, normally took precautions to avoid getting the French pox. "Him and Morag will have a dozen, I'm certain of it," he finished, wiping a tear from her cheek with his finger.