The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3)(71)

Dinner was not at all what Beth had expected, although she was fast learning not to expect anything normal. Obviously from the incredulous looks on the faces of the guests, it was not what they had expected, either. There was no damask tablecloth, polished silver, crystal glasses or delicate porcelain. Instead on entering the dining room the guests were greeted with a large scrubbed oak table, in the centre of which were a quantity of large loaves of bread and several platters of cheese and cold meats. Jugs of red wine were dotted about the table.

"Help yourselves!" said Prince Frederick as they entered and took their seats uncertainly. "There's plenty for everyone! It is so pleasant to eat good simple but hearty fare after a day of hard work, isn't it?" He was still dressed in his working clothes, and Beth watched him as he merrily tore open a loaf of bread with his fingers before spreading it liberally with butter. He was a small man with the neat physique of his father. But there the similarity ended. If she hadn't known better, Beth would have thought him to be of near Eastern origin, with his thick lips, heavy nose and sallow complexion. How this man could be the brother of the podgy, fair-skinned Cumberland, she had no idea. He didn't look in the least Germanic like the rest of his family did.

He looked up and smiled at her.

"You've stayed remarkably clean, Lady Elizabeth," he remarked. "And you've used a rake before, I noticed."

"Yes, Your Highness," she replied, reaching over for a piece of bread. "I don't think I'm any cleaner than anyone else, though. It's just that this dress doesn't show the dirt."                       
       
           



       

"It's delightful to have Anthony back in the fold, as it were. I suppose you know that visiting me will probably put you out of favour with my father. Does that bother you?"

The question was casual, but she was not fooled. What had Alex said? That George hated his son. But he had not said that the reverse was true.

"I am enjoying myself a great deal today, Your Highness. I will pray for a reconciliation between you and your father so that I may enjoy the hospitality of your whole family."

He eyed her shrewdly.

"Hmm," he said after a moment. "What do you think of the wine?"

She said that she thought the wine was strong and rough, but well suited to the hearty peasant fare, and then his attention moved on to the next guest, and she had time to look around. She had never met any of the guests before, although she had seen some of them at a distance, at the theatre or pleasure gardens. It could not be more clear that the king and his eldest son moved in completely different circles, and she wondered what had happened to make George hate his heir so utterly. Now was not the time to ask, though, even though the prince had just excused himself and left the room.

There was a general sigh of relief.

"Next time I'm invited for dinner I shall borrow my gardener's clothes," said one young man in grubby blue velvet.

"If you do that, Percy, you'll find yourself in the middle of an high class ball, with people expecting you to open doors for them and take their coats. You know how unpredictable Fred is. He likes his little joke," replied an elegant man next to him. He took a sip of the wine and shuddered delicately. "I don't know how anyone can drink this stuff, I really don't. It's disgusting."

"Oh, I don't know, I am becoming quite accustomed to it," trilled Sir Anthony. "I feel quite the country rustic!"

"I see being married has sobered you somewhat, Anthony," said Percy, eyeing the baronet's sombre clothes.

Sir Anthony cast a rueful glance over his attire.

"I know, utterly dreadful, is it not? But no, my exquisite taste has not been at all dulled by marriage. Surely you only have to look at the woman I chose for my bride to see that!"

Everyone looked at the woman he chose for his bride, and Beth tried not to blush.

"Beautiful," observed the elegant young man, lifting his spectacles to his snub nose and eyeing her lasciviously with long-lashed brown eyes. "Quite a morsel. What on earth did you see in Anthony, my love? You could have had your pick of society, a beauty like you."

By that he obviously meant ‘you could have had me,' and she was suddenly reminded of Daniel. These were the sort of people he would associate with.

Beth looked him up and down slowly, then smiled.

"True. But looks, money and an empty head are not enough to satisfy me, my lord. I require a man who possesses a modicum of intelligence and who knows how to behave courteously towards a lady as well."

The young lord flushed.

"She's got the measure of you, David," laughed Percy. "No hope of a conquest there. Speaking of ladies though, where's Helen? There'll be nothing left for her if she doesn't hurry up."

There was a general titter at the linking of the word ‘lady' with Helen.

"She's brought a change of dress," said Caroline's great-uncle. "I saw one of the footmen taking a bag up to her room."

"Trust her to think of that, bloody cow," mumbled Philippa through a mouthful of bread. "Play afterwards though. Macbeth. Damn good. Lots of blood."

"There will be lots of blood if it consists of a recitation by the children, like it was last time," threatened her father. "I'll shoot the little buggers rather than endure that again. Awful, it was. And it went on for hours."

"They're not here," said Philippa more distinctly, having emptied her mouth. She reached for the wine. "Off with Augusta to Chelsea. Shame. Nice children."

"Nice children?" said Percy. "Stupid, more like. Little George can't even … "

He stopped speaking hurriedly as the door opened, expecting it to be the prince returning. Instead a lovely young woman entered the room in a flurry of scarlet satin. Rubies glowed at her throat and ears, and her glossy black hair was beautifully arranged in a becoming style. She smiled at the company, her blue eyes travelling round the room until they alighted on Sir Anthony. The smile grew wider.

There were four other women in the room, and all of them immediately felt dowdy. Beth surreptitiously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.                       
       
           



       

"Ah, Helen," said David. "We were wondering where you were. You're just in time to enjoy the last of the repast our prince has kindly thought to provide." He waved his slender hand at a nearby empty chair. She smiled at him, ignored the chair, and went to sit next to Sir Anthony instead.

"Like Shakespeare?" barked Philippa.

"Yes," said Beth, one eye on the scarlet vision, who had laid her small white hand on the baronet's arm. "Although I haven't seen Macbeth. Isn't it unlucky to call it that, though?" Sir Anthony leaned across the table, carefully choosing a slice of meat, which he placed on a plate in front of Helen. He addressed a remark to Percy, and then Helen was commanding his attention again, leaning close to his ear to murmur something obviously confidential to him. She smiled seductively. Beth tried to ignore her and concentrate on Philippa.

"Only if you're an actor, I think," she was saying. "Superstitious lot. Call it the Scottish play. Ridiculous."

Sir Anthony bent his head and whispered something back. His lips were almost brushing Helen's ear, he was so close to her. Whatever he said was electrifying. The smile froze on the woman's face, then she stood abruptly and moved away, just as Prince Frederick re-entered the room.

"Ah, I see you're all here now," he said jovially. "If you've all eaten enough, we can make our way to the theatre. The players are nearly ready."

* * *



"Och, ye didna really say that, did ye, Alex?" said Maggie, aghast. "Puir wee lassie."

"Poor wee lassie?" replied Beth. "You didn't see her. She didn't even make preliminary conversation. She just went straight in for the kill. I'd have slapped her if she'd carried on."

"I thought you werena jealous," remarked Alex, who was devouring a large bowl of broth. "Christ, I'm starving. I hardly got tae eat anything before we were dragged off to the play. Verra good though, excellent players."

"I wasn't jealous, I was angry," insisted Beth. "I knew you weren't interested in Helen. But when a woman makes a play for your husband in front of you, it's really insulting. She must have been hit before if she always behaves like this."

"Probably. But I doubt she's been tellt that her breath smelt so bad it was putting her victim off his food. I feel sorry for her too," said Duncan.

"I said it verra tactfully," said Alex, mopping his bowl with a hunk of bread.

"No you didn't," said Beth. "There's no tactful way to say that, not even for Sir Anthony. Her face just froze. It was a picture."

"Talking of freezing, yon wee Sarah's a cold one, is she no'?" Angus commented. "I was passing by her shop on my way home frae the market today and dropped in tae say hello. I've never had such a frosty reception. I had icicles growing on me when I left."