The Locket and the Flintlock

by Rebecca S. Buck

  Len held Lucia’s gaze for a long moment. Lucia prayed Len would see her honesty, understand that, whatever world Lucia came from, she was not being judged. It was only that Lucia had no idea how to understand such a story, it being quite unlike anything she had ever contemplated before. But she knew that in understanding the story she could come to understand Len and dearly wanted her to continue. She was relieved when Len seemed satisfied, her demeanour relaxing slightly.

  “Well, then listen. I shall tell you.” Len sounded as though there was still a lot more to tell. Lucia wanted to hear it all.

  “Please go on.”

  Len paused for a moment. Lucia wondered if she would hear the whole tale or if Len was also deciding what to tell and what to keep for herself. Len seemed to carry so much darkness with her. Lucia wanted to tell her not to be afraid of sharing it all, that she was brave enough to bear it. But she was not, in truth, sure that she could. So she simply waited in silence for Len to speak again.

  “To begin with, I watched Julian demonstrate the military skills in which he had been educated, showing me his swordplay and how to fire a pistol. Eventually, I demanded he show me how to hold and wield the weapons myself. He laughed at me at first, but he soon realised I was in earnest and taught me the skills quite happily. I found it all fascinating.” Len smiled, her eyes showing the recollection of exhilaration and wonderment. Lucia pondered how it must feel to hold a sharpened blade for the first time, to thrust and jab and parry, how it would be to fire a deadly pistol. Such lessons sounded unconventional, frightening perhaps, and yet just knowing Len had experienced them gave her a small vicarious thrill. How freeing it must be to do something so active, needing such strength. Lucia doubted she could do any of it herself, but in those doubts, her admiration for Len only increased all the more. She was almost envious of a life that had allowed such experiences, despite its pain. But though she wanted to stop Len and ask her questions, she was even keener to hear the conclusion of the story and let Len go on without interrupting.

  “And so I was reasonably content in the small society I had created around me, and the years passed. I made myself so unpleasant to potential suitors I received no further proposals. My sisters were married satisfactorily, both before the age of nineteen, and my father grew happier. He no longer beat me when I refused to dress for company, he simply locked the door to my chamber and refused to allow me out until the morning.”

  Lucia could not hide her astounded expression as Len related these things as though they were commonplace. Len had borne so much in her life. Lucia’s heart was aflame with compassion and anger on her behalf. Len, on the other hand, seemed unnervingly calm. Lucia was dreadfully afraid she would realise how different they were from each other after all, how Lucia could not possibly understand this story, and stop before the conclusion. She was glad when Len continued to speak.

  “However, I knew he would not bear his daughter remaining in his house eternally. I had become an embarrassment to him, and I started to fear he would marry me to any man, however lacking in advantage the match was, merely to be rid of me. I began to ponder solutions to my problem. Hattie was my close confidante, although I see now we were both very naïve.” Len closed her eyes, as if in pain. When she opened them again, Lucia saw there were tears. Again she debated: should she acknowledge the pain she saw in Len, try to comfort her, or simply pretend she had not noticed? Len’s shoulders were now very stiff. She did not seem like a woman who would welcome a kindness, so Lucia checked her natural instinct. But curiosity burned. Just why had the mention of Hattie brought this strong woman so close to tears? Lucia sensed they were coming to the most crucial part of Len’s story, and anticipatory tension grew inside her.

  “One day, my father happened upon Hattie and me…talking of ways I could escape…and he grew very angry. Of course, Hattie was not employed by him, and all he could do was expel her from the house. She left at once. I was frightened by what I saw in my father’s face, and I was sure he would beat me again. However, he did not. Rather, he took hold of one of my arms rather roughly and dragged me from my chamber, down the stairs, out of the front door, and to the road. There he pushed me so I fell to my knees in the dirt and told me I was no longer his daughter and could have no claim on his affections or his finances any more. The ground was damp from a recent shower, I remember.”

  Len gazed into the distance, but Lucia knew, instinctively, she saw nothing of their surroundings. Len was looking into her past, reliving those feelings. Lucia ached to comfort her, as she began to understand. However, one aspect of the story did not quite make sense, and as Len’s silence stretched on, she chose a moment to ask, hesitantly.

  “He did this simply because you were talking with your friend?” Lucia tried not to sound incredulous, though she suspected Len was keeping something from her. She felt a twinge of pain that Len still did not trust her with every detail, despite such personal revelations. Just what could be so bad, so shocking, that Len would not tell her? Could Len not feel the compassion flowing from her heart? She was braver than Len thought she was. Though not brave enough, she acknowledged, to tell Len so.

  Len did not look at Lucia as she lied. “Yes. It was after many years of displeasure with me. I believe that finally sealed it for him.” A thin excuse, but no doubt Lucia would be taken in. She would have to be, for Len would not talk of what had passed between her and Hattie in any more depth than she already had. There was too much pain in the recollection, too much danger in exposing Lucia to such ideas.

  “But what did you do?” Lucia clearly could not imagine how anyone could survive such a predicament.

  Len shrugged. “I could have begged him to take me back, promised to marry. But my pride would not allow it. Whilst he still stood there, I rose from my knees and walked away from him along the road, vowing to myself I would never return to him.” Pride elevated her spirits, even this many years distant. “Instinctively, I went to Hattie’s house. Thankfully, her parents were away from home, and only Julian and she were there.

  “At first I suppose I had hoped I might be able to stay with Hattie. But they were not rich people, and it would not be long before word of the supposed shame I had brought to myself spread throughout the neighbourhood. Besides, I did not want to be in a place my father could find me, should he have a change of heart. I told them I wanted to travel out of the area, and I asked Julian to accompany me. He was out of work and had the time to spare. I had a half-hearted idea I might look for work as a governess in some distant area, where I could forge a character for myself.” Such an innocent notion. Len found it hard to believe she had seriously considered that as her path into the future. How differently things had turned out. She could not help a vague smile. Outlaw she might be, but at least she did not have to endure the trials of working as a governess. She suspected Lucia was struggling to imagine her in that role too, from the way her brow furrowed. Was there an expression in the world that did not look well on Lucia’s face? Len sighed, determined to finish the story now.

  “But Julian and Hattie did not have a carriage, and their parents were away in their pony trap. I would have to travel on horseback, and Julian did not like the notion of travelling with a vulnerable woman on horseback any great distance, especially taking into account the recent rumours of highwaymen in the area.” She laughed briefly at the turnaround in her concerns these days. “That was when I suggested that if I were to borrow some of his clothing and wear a kerchief over my face as a mask, I would be less vulnerable on the roads. Julian was reluctant to begin with, but Hattie and I convinced him it was a sensible plan.

  “As soon as I put on his breeches and coat, large though they were on me, I felt the freedom of that style of dress, both in terms of my own movement and in how I knew the world would perceive me. I felt stronger, more able to take on the challenges ahead of me. I also armed myself with a pistol, to be sure of my safety.”

  Len paused and looked at Lucia, challenging her to be asto
nished by the story so far. In actuality, what she saw was something like envy. Had she made it sound simple and painless? If so, she had failed. Her tale was not one to covet. She watched Lucia as the other woman’s mind worked over some contemplation. Perhaps Lucia was wondering what she would have done in such a situation. As she reached some sort of conclusion, Lucia’s eyes dropped to the floor, and she seemed intent on a dead leaf fluttering in the grass. Len realised she wanted to know what was behind that downcast expression.

  “We set off that night. It was hard to leave Hattie, but we told each other it would not be for very long. Somehow, we would work out a way we could see each other before too much time had passed.” There was that pain again. Len went on swiftly.

  “We had travelled only a few miles and had not yet made it to the turnpike when we heard horses both in front of and behind us. Just as Julian had feared, a band of robbers had happened upon us. However, they were a small band and we were quicker than them. Julian’s teaching stood me in good stead. Shots were fired on both sides, and I felt a pistol ball pluck my sleeve, but before they could reload, with pistol butts and Julian’s sword, we had overpowered them. Julian kept his blade to the throat of the nearest man, to remind them not to resume their resistance.”

  Lucia became aware she was staring open-mouthed. Len told her tale as the most commonplace of happenings, without a hint of sensation.

  “It became apparent to us then, from their general demeanour and the poor state of their clothing, that these were not professional thieves, and there was no obvious leader. A bold notion occurred to me, though I know not what prompted it. I whispered questions to Julian for the frightened men, so that my voice might not give me away. They answered reluctantly, but soon I ascertained that they were hungry stockingers, turned to crime rather than starve, and that they had no definite leader.

  Lucia did not hide her astonishment now. The story seemed so fantastical, so frightening, it was hard to believe. Yet here Len was, and Lucia knew she was being told the truth, being allowed to see the steps which had brought Len to her side on this cold hilltop today.

  “You look quite astounded Lucia. Is it surprise at my unwomanly behaviour?” Len looked keenly at Lucia, who realised that she had not even considered that aspect of Len’s tale. That Len did not behave like any woman she had ever expected to encounter had, at some point, become entirely irrelevant. There was an odd excitement to that, she found.

  “No, I had not thought of such things. I am merely contemplating the dangers of that encounter. And wondering how it was those men allowed you to become their leader.”

  “Then I will continue,” Len said. Lucia was sure she saw something like relief in her expression. Perhaps Len had never before related this tale, simply carried it with her, and found some release in the telling of it. Lucia hoped that was the case, and waited for the conclusion.

  “The most confident of the men seemed to recover himself at this point. With a challenge in his tone, he suggested our curiosity was owed to our wanting to lead them. A flutter of fear and potential passed through me. I had meant to suggest hiding with them, maybe stealing only enough to survive, while I decided on the best course into my future. But now fortune presented a new notion to me. Julian looked to me for guidance, and I nodded. We had reached the same conclusion without exchanging a word. One of the men protested then, but Julian told him if they did not allow us to join their band, we would go directly to the authorities, describe the wounds they had sustained, and see them hang. These were not experienced criminals and were, in truth, very frightened. They allowed us to stay with them, though they resisted the idea that either of us should lead them. We went to their shelter in the woods.”

  Len glanced at Lucia then turned her dark, expressive eyes to gaze across the countryside. She had apparently concluded her tale, and Lucia was astonished. Her eyes and her mind had been opened to notions she’d never known existed, she’d heard of dangers more fitting to the plot of a novel. But more than that, she understood now something of Len, this remarkable woman. Compassion and admiration sparked inside her, as well as gratitude that Len had trusted her. Len had allowed her to witness pain and despair, but also hope. She saw the root of the darkness she sensed in Len, the courage and passion which surely helped her combat such sadness. It was impossible not to be drawn to that, to yearn to know those details Len had kept from her. Lucia felt she needed to know more of Len, having been given the thrill of hearing her story.

  And she had not yet told what, to Lucia, was the most important part in understanding why they were seated together in this hilltop ruin today. Lucia summoned up the courage to press her on it.

  “When did they discover your true identity? Did they accept you at once?” Len seemed mildly amused by Lucia’s keen interest.

  “They discovered it that night. I could not very well remain silent and masked all night. At first, when I removed my mask, took a drink of ale, and said nothing, they simply stared. I think they presumed I was a young boy. Slowly, it dawned on them. But they had seen my actions at the roadside, and they were more than a little frightened of Julian and me together. In the end, it was novel to them and they began to laugh.

  “They accepted me as one of their number almost instantly. It took a little longer to be able to lead them. To begin with, Julian was the one they looked to. However, he was not happy to lead them—he did not like the responsibility of making decisions, whereas I discovered I thrived on it. I soon proved myself—with sword and pistol and on horseback—to be more capable than any of them. My knowledge of the workings of society, of the liveries on coaches, of the richest pickings all helped increase their profits and, with that, their confidence in me. And finally they concluded that to have a leader who could go unidentified—for who would ever suspect a woman?—was also to their advantage. Eventually, they came to understand who my father was and why my sympathies were with them. We became friends, in a manner of speaking.”

  Len made it sound very simple. Lucia guessed, from the determination she saw in her face as she spoke, from the way she said the words very definitely, she had been forced to prove herself many times over before she had been truly accepted by the men. The mere fact she had achieved it, however, could be considered nothing short of impressive, almost beyond belief. Lucia’s pulse beat faster simply with the thought of it. She wanted to reach out and touch Len, feel her solid and strong, the survivor of these things. The emotion burned so hot, for a fleeting moment she wondered if it was envy she felt, of a life of freedom and bravery, of having been challenged and having won that battle.

  But it was not envy. She did not want to be Len. She wanted to know her, in every way she could possibly know her. Her head was still full of questions which threatened to spill out. Lucia forgot her former caution with Len and dared to ask.

  “Were you never afraid of them?”

  Len smiled, and Lucia wondered if fear was something too simple, too unnecessary in Len’s life to be worth a question, and felt silly for having thought of it. Len was matter-of-fact in her reply. “They’re not bad men, only poor and desperate. Besides, they were most certainly afraid of both my own and Julian’s skills with a weapon. Before long, they saw the advantages of accepting us, and then there was nothing to be afraid of.”

  She adjusted her position and brushed the stray strand of hair behind her ear. Lucia watched, imagining once more the feel of that silken hair on her fingertips. She bit her lip and tried to suppress the thought, since Len was still talking.

  “That was five years ago now. I have never chosen to move on. It is a different life, and I know its risks every morning I awake. However, I cannot imagine returning to become a governess, or worse. The men have come and gone. We had ten with us at one point. William is the man I wounded in the shoulder, and Isaac was the man Julian took his sword to. The other two left us two years ago but were quickly replaced. There are many dissatisfied men in these parts willing to turn to crime. Ours is an old and
established profession, with its glory days behind it. There are not many gentlemen of the road anymore. The turnpikes and militia put paid to that. And yet, in these times, the risks seem to be worth it.”

  She concluded and looked down at the ground, her expression distant and contemplative. Then she reached for the bottle and took another drink of brandy. It was not a happy tale Lucia had heard, yet she could not help the sentiments it aroused in her heart. She was nothing short of excited. Len was strong, she was free, and she had succeeded where failure had seemed more likely.

  And here she was Miss Lucia Foxe, amid grey ruins in the deserted countryside, beside her.

  Waiting.

  Chapter Nine

  They sat in silent contemplation for some time after Len concluded her tale. Then Lucia asked, “What about Julian’s sister, Hattie?”

  Len’s face transformed into an unreadable mask in an instant. “Hattie died of a fever, within a year of our leaving. I had visited her several times in the night, but I was not with her when she died. Julian was.”

  Len rose and walked away from Lucia, climbing up onto a piece of ruined wall and looking out across the fields. Lucia felt the strength of her grief form a barrier between them, where there had been none as she related her story, and regretted at once that she had asked the question. She felt oddly envious of the friendship Len had clearly shared with the dressmaker. Lucia had good friends but none to whom she had ever felt truly close. To know Len in that way must be wonderful. Even today’s revelations had not satiated Lucia’s curiosity about her. She deliberated whether to go to Len now, try to offer some scant comfort, perhaps an apology, or whether to remain seated where she was.

  Lucia heard movement on the opposite side of the hill. Lucia saw Len listening, watching closely. She had an almost animal quality about her, as all of her attention was focused on what—or who—would emerge from behind the thicket of trees and shrubs. Her hand went instinctively to her waist, ready to draw her pistol if necessary. Lucia’s heart thudded, and she marvelled how Len could appear so controlled. Was she so settled inside?