Read Online The Rebel's Promise by Jane Godman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jane Godman
Ads: Link
words were uttered with such venom that she stepped back in alarm. “Yes, you may well stare! I’m tired of treating you with kid gloves, Miss-high-and-mighty-Delacourt. Tis time you learned a lesson and, by God, I’m the man who will teach it to you.”
Rosie moved towards the door but he was there before her, barring her way.
“Aye, you would love to call your tame ape back and have me man-handled out the door, would you not? But before you do, I suggest you read this,” he threw a parchment down onto a side table, “Your father found it most interesting, I can assure you.” Replacing his tricorn hat, he gave a mock-courteous bow, “I will return shortly, at which juncture I will expect a most favourable answer to my renewed proposal of marriage. For now, however, I must bid you a good day.”
With a growing sense of dread, Rosie sank into a chair and began to read the document he had left. Her emotions exactly mirrored those her father had experienced a matter of days ago in this very room. Several passages in Harry’s account leaped out at her, the words searing themselves on her consciousness and driving thoughts of her father, even of Jack, from her mind.
‘… my father, a lifelong Jacobite sympathiser, agreed that the Earl of St Anton, injured while fighting for Prince Charles Edward Stuart, should be sheltered in our home, Delacourt Grange ...’
‘… the Earl of St Anton was most taken with my sister and she with him. I believe they will marry when he returns. They have already shared a bed ...’
Oh, Harry! Rosie covered her eyes with a shaking hand. What have you done? A movement at her side made her look up, and Harry was standing beside her. Fear and concern were writ large on his young features. Beau, sensing her cares, rested his chin on Rosie’s knee his gentle eyes shining lovingly up at her. Rosie held out a hand to Harry and he took it. Exhaling the breath he had been holding as the tears began to flow. He dropped to his knees beside her chair and she held him close, rocking him as she had done when he was a baby.
“I did not know what I was doing,” The words came tumbling over themselves, fast and furious, and Rosie had to bend her head to catch what he was saying. “I thought he was being kind, he bought me food and gave me ale. I began to feel strange … lightheaded …Then he said I should write my memoirs … for posterity. He told me what to write – even that bit about you and Jack, about sharing a bed,” Harry hung his head in shame. “Then, once I had written it and signed my name on it, he laughed. Told me it was a confession and that I could hang as a traitor with you and my father alongside me. Please say you forgive me, Rosie.”
Automatically, Rosie soothed him and, eventually, exhausted from weeping, he made his way upstairs, a sad, drooping figure. Beau, always responsive to his moods, adopted a similarly woebegone attitude. Tom appeared in the doorway, wondering what was going on.
“I need you to find Jack for me, Tom.”
The stricken look in Rosie’s eyes worried him. She looked worse now than when she had found her father’s body slumped in his chair.
“Harry and I are in trouble and we need him … more than the prince does.”
***
The fickle Scottish weather had done its worst while Tom travelled steadily northwards. But, as he approached the town of Inverness, the driving rain finally ceased. A weak April sun tried briefly to warm him before the low, trundling clouds descended once more.
The Prince’s retreat into Scotland had been marked by a series of skirmishes. Although he had won a victory at Falkirk, there was a sense, from the newspaper reports – which Tom avidly scoured each day – that the Jacobites were being driven relentlessly further and further from their goal. King George had sent the Duke of Cumberland, the Young Pretender’s own cousin, to take charge of the government armies. His tactics of relentlessly haranguing the
Rosie moved towards the door but he was there before her, barring her way.
“Aye, you would love to call your tame ape back and have me man-handled out the door, would you not? But before you do, I suggest you read this,” he threw a parchment down onto a side table, “Your father found it most interesting, I can assure you.” Replacing his tricorn hat, he gave a mock-courteous bow, “I will return shortly, at which juncture I will expect a most favourable answer to my renewed proposal of marriage. For now, however, I must bid you a good day.”
With a growing sense of dread, Rosie sank into a chair and began to read the document he had left. Her emotions exactly mirrored those her father had experienced a matter of days ago in this very room. Several passages in Harry’s account leaped out at her, the words searing themselves on her consciousness and driving thoughts of her father, even of Jack, from her mind.
‘… my father, a lifelong Jacobite sympathiser, agreed that the Earl of St Anton, injured while fighting for Prince Charles Edward Stuart, should be sheltered in our home, Delacourt Grange ...’
‘… the Earl of St Anton was most taken with my sister and she with him. I believe they will marry when he returns. They have already shared a bed ...’
Oh, Harry! Rosie covered her eyes with a shaking hand. What have you done? A movement at her side made her look up, and Harry was standing beside her. Fear and concern were writ large on his young features. Beau, sensing her cares, rested his chin on Rosie’s knee his gentle eyes shining lovingly up at her. Rosie held out a hand to Harry and he took it. Exhaling the breath he had been holding as the tears began to flow. He dropped to his knees beside her chair and she held him close, rocking him as she had done when he was a baby.
“I did not know what I was doing,” The words came tumbling over themselves, fast and furious, and Rosie had to bend her head to catch what he was saying. “I thought he was being kind, he bought me food and gave me ale. I began to feel strange … lightheaded …Then he said I should write my memoirs … for posterity. He told me what to write – even that bit about you and Jack, about sharing a bed,” Harry hung his head in shame. “Then, once I had written it and signed my name on it, he laughed. Told me it was a confession and that I could hang as a traitor with you and my father alongside me. Please say you forgive me, Rosie.”
Automatically, Rosie soothed him and, eventually, exhausted from weeping, he made his way upstairs, a sad, drooping figure. Beau, always responsive to his moods, adopted a similarly woebegone attitude. Tom appeared in the doorway, wondering what was going on.
“I need you to find Jack for me, Tom.”
The stricken look in Rosie’s eyes worried him. She looked worse now than when she had found her father’s body slumped in his chair.
“Harry and I are in trouble and we need him … more than the prince does.”
***
The fickle Scottish weather had done its worst while Tom travelled steadily northwards. But, as he approached the town of Inverness, the driving rain finally ceased. A weak April sun tried briefly to warm him before the low, trundling clouds descended once more.
The Prince’s retreat into Scotland had been marked by a series of skirmishes. Although he had won a victory at Falkirk, there was a sense, from the newspaper reports – which Tom avidly scoured each day – that the Jacobites were being driven relentlessly further and further from their goal. King George had sent the Duke of Cumberland, the Young Pretender’s own cousin, to take charge of the government armies. His tactics of relentlessly haranguing the
Similar Books
