The Tarrant Rose by Veronica Heley

Author:Veronica Heley [Veronica Heley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2015-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Any news?” It was the Earl’s invariable greeting nowadays when he entered his library.

Mr. Stone abandoned his frowning study of the map of Scotland. “We are expecting the courier any minute. What is the latest gossip?”

The Earl was still in his ball dress. He yawned, and leaned against the mantel, studying the fire.

“The men criticize the Government for inaction. One or two talk of raising a company of volunteers to fight the Pretender, but it is all rather as one talks of the prospects of hunting next season. Academic, rather than immediate. They grumble because the King has prorogued Parliament, but that is more because it cuts off their vent for hot air than because they want to plunge into action. There is a general feeling that happenings north of the Border are no concern of theirs.”

Mr. Stone grunted. “Your uncle’s to blame, as usual. He doesn’t want Parliament to meet on the 19th, because he wants to keep Newcastle out of touch with his supporters in the Commons. I believe you are right, and Lord Carteret is working for a coup d’état. Cabinet discussions have been heated, shall we say? The King puts forward your uncle’s ideas at every point. No wonder the business of the nation is at a standstill.”

“Many of my uncle’s ideas are good, and his knowledge of European affairs is second to none. The treaty with ‘Antimac’ goes through?”

“My apologies,” said Mr. Stone, after a short pause. “I have allowed myself to lose sight of the larger issues. You need not remind me that your uncle is a master of strategy. I only wish that he were not plunging us into civil war to gratify his ambition. No, I apologize again. I agree with you; he did not intend the Pretender to have any success at all. He forgot that Wade and Cope are only human, and make mistakes like the rest of us. Sometimes I think he sees politics as some giant game of chess.”

The Earl started, but Mr. Stone did not notice, for Mr. Denbigh hurried into the room, holding a letter in an oilskin pouch. “From David Vere, Edinburgh.”

The dispatch was opened and spread on the table, so that all three men could read it at once.

“So Edinburgh is lost!” said the Earl. “This will create a stir.”

“Cope will stop him. With fresh troops …”

“Troops newly embarked from sea transports are never at their best. Besides, these are recruits, as raw as the rebels. What does David Vere say about the strength of the Highlanders? Ah … here it is. ‘Reports say they have two thousand men who are well-armed and well-shod, and upwards of one thousand more who are indifferently armed and clad, and whom the local people call Walidragles. They are billeted outside Edinburgh, and I will ride out to see them at first light tomorrow.’”

“Two thousand well-armed, and another thousand badly-armed. Undisciplined troops, without horses, and with little ammunition.” Mr. Stone began to look happier. “Well, that is good news, if it can be trusted.

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