"What do you mean, ‘no'?" cried Beth. "I can't just do nothing! I'm going to go round to the house and talk to her, that's all. Find out what really happened."
"And what will you do if Richard's there?" he said. "You said yourself you don't want to be in his undiluted company."
"I don't," she replied hotly. "But that's not because I'm afraid of him. If he's there I'll tell him exactly what I think of him and what I'll do if he hits her again."
"Very well," he said, his eyes angry, his tone calm. "Let us assume for the moment that Richard is, as you assert, beating Anne. Do you think it will help matters for you to enrage him by ordering him how to behave towards his own wife?"
Beth glared at him.
"I'll be tactful," she said through gritted teeth.
"No, you won't," he said. "You are incapable of tact where your brother is concerned, Beth. You're not going."
Caroline shifted uncomfortably in her seat, clearly wishing she was somewhere else.
"You are making Caroline feel awkward," Sir Anthony said warningly.
"I'm sorry, Caroline," Beth replied, before turning straight back to her husband. "But I am going to Anne's, now. If Richard is there, I'll leave, immediately. Does that satisfy you?"
"No, it doesn't," he replied coldly. "You're not going, Beth, and that's final. Ah! Slow the coach a moment, Murdo. I spy an old friend."
The coach slowed and Sir Anthony leaned out of the window.
"William!" he cried. "You are just the man I was hoping to see. May I beg the pleasure of a word or two?"
The coach came to a halt, and the horseman bent in the saddle to smile at the two ladies inside.
"Lady Elizabeth, Mrs Harlow, delighted to see you," the Earl of Highbury said politely, paying no attention to Beth's furious expression. "Of course, Anthony. What do you wish to discuss?"
"A private matter. If it is convenient, I will descend for a few moments."
He got down from the coach and the two men moved out of earshot.
"To hell with him," said Beth. "I'm going to find out what's going on."
"He has a point though, Beth," said Caroline hesitantly, somewhat stunned by Sir Anthony's uncharacteristic authoritarian attitude.
"What! You agree that we should do nothing?"
"No," Caroline replied hurriedly. "But I don't think you should go round there without thinking it through first. I know you mean well, but Anthony's right. You're more likely to make things worse if you go dashing to rescue Anne."
Before Beth could reply, Sir Anthony leaned in through the coach window.
"William has kindly invited me to dine with him, my dear," he said. "And then I think I may accompany him to his club this evening. There will be several important people there." He smiled winningly.
"How can you think of … ?" Beth began.
"Beth," he said firmly, casting Caroline an apologetic glance. "I will deal with this situation. William's club is frequented by many military men. You will go home. I will see you later. Murdo," he continued, pulling his head out of the carriage, and looking up at Duncan, who was driving, "you will take Mrs Harlow to her house, and then will take Lady Elizabeth home, where she will remain until I return this evening. Is that clear?"
It was clear. Not daring to make a scene, and knowing it would be futile and undignified anyway if she did, Beth went home, where she alternated between worrying about what Richard might be doing at that very moment to Anne and fuming that she had married a man whose servants were also his family and his clansmen, and that they could not be bribed or persuaded to disobey orders under any circumstances.
* * *
The members of Highbury's club met every Wednesday in a coffee house near St. Paul's. A table was provided, with apple pasties, wine and punch, and a large fire burned in the grate. The floor, though bare wood, was clean, and sufficient candles burned to drive the shadows to the corners of the room. The walls, originally painted cream, had now darkened to a light brown due to years of tobacco smoke.
It was an eclectic club, and the conversation was therefore more varied than in clubs whose members held a profession or a pursuit in common. Nevertheless, as Sir Anthony had informed Beth, a considerable number of military men frequented its environs, and as he entered he was gratified to see not only the newly promoted Captain Cunningham, but also his colonel, ensconced by the fire with a number of other uniformed men. The earl had told him that Colonel Hutchinson frequented the club regularly when not on campaign, and as Richard had been admitted as a member only a few weeks ago, there had been every likelihood he would be present too.
Ignoring the calls from the huddled group in the corner to come and join in the discussion on Aristotle, the earl and baronet made their way over to the fire on the pretence of warming themselves.
"Uncommonly cold night tonight," said Highbury, standing with his back to the fire and lifting the skirts of his coat to enable the warmth to penetrate. "Blowing a gale. I nearly lost my wig twice between the carriage and the club."
Sir Anthony pulled up a chair and sat down.
"Captain Cunningham," he said. "Delighted to see you here. You managed to tear yourself away from the loving arms of your bride, I see."
"Shilling in the pot, Anthony," barked a large man opposite before Richard could answer. "No titles allowed here, you know the rule. And he's your brother-in-law, for God's sake!"
"Ah, yes, I'm sorry. I'd quite forgotten," said Sir Anthony ruefully, delving into his pocket.
"Does captain count as a title, John?" asked the earl.
"Of course it does!" replied the large man. "Mister counts as a title here. No excuses. Everyone is equal."
"I'm surprised to see you here tonight, Richard," continued the baronet, flicking a silver coin with perfect accuracy into a pot on the mantelpiece. "I thought you'd be spending as much time as possible with your dear wife, as you will soon be sundered from each other."
"I told Anthony your orders are through," interpreted Highbury.
"Ah," said Richard. "Yes. At last. We have to be in Gravesend and ready to embark by the thirty-first."
"Oh my dear boy!" cried Sir Anthony. "That is a mere ten days away! You must be devastated."
"What rot you talk, Anthony," said the colonel amiably. "He's ecstatic. We all are. We can't wait to get to Flanders and teach those damn Frenchies a lesson. With luck we'll have the whole war over and done with by autumn."
"We were just discussing the forfeiture law for those accused of treason, and whether it's unfair or not. There was an article in the Magazine about it a few weeks ago," said John, a captain in the horseguards.
"Yes, I read that," put in Richard. "It said that the law was too harsh, as it punished innocent women and children. Ridiculous, in my view. A man will think twice before committing treason if he knows his whole estate will be forfeit if he does."
"Don't you think that hanging, drawing and quartering is a sufficient deterrent?" said Sir Anthony, shuddering delicately.
"Not for some, no," put in another man. "Some of them consider it an honour to die for their misguided principles. But if they know their wives and children will be reduced to beggary as a result, they will think again. Wouldn't you think seriously before you risked Daniel's inheritance, William?"
"Daniel's inheritance would be safer with the king than with him, though," laughed John. "He'd gamble the whole lot away in a week."
The earl shot the horseguard captain a look that made him fall immediately silent and squirm uncomfortably in his chair.
"It does seem somewhat heartless, though," Sir Anthony commented, "to punish the innocent. After all, a wife can hardly prevent her husband from committing treason if he wishes. And his children certainly can't. And it breeds resentment too. Such disinherited children are hardly likely to grow up with warm feelings towards the king and his government."
"Not all women are innocent of blame. I believe many encourage their men into folly," said Richard confidently. "And as for it breeding resentment, you only have to look at the aftermath of the '15. We were too soft on the rebels then. Most of them were pardoned and left to continue plotting in their castles, and were they grateful for such lenient treatment? No. Instead they and their sons are all rising again for the Pretender."
"Are they?" asked Sir Anthony in mock alarm, looking fearfully round the room. "Where? I see no Jacobite hordes marching on the Capital, Richard. Or are you privy to secret information?"
Richard flushed angrily and tried to think of a witty retort.
"If anyone was privy to secret information, Anthony, it would be you, with your finger in every pie, as you well know," said Highbury.