The Highwayman's Mistress

by Francine Howarth

  She touched her cheek, his kiss as though having branded her flesh. But his words of warning started ringing in her ears. No stopping in villages, people too nosy. Be careful in the town, but food . . . They had to eat, drink. No, no matter how hungry they must try to survive on meagre ration.

  Angelica appeared at the top of the staircase devoid of powdered face and rouge, well-worn cloak over her arm and a small cloth-wrapped bundle in hand. She was sensibly wearing a very plain gown of dark blue cotton, no frills, no bows, no pretty trailing ribbons, and little black buckled slippers on her feet. “Will I pass as a servant?”

  “My goodness, your hair. What have you done?”

  “I cut it off a little and tied it back, see.”

  She rushed down the staircase, swirled about, and true enough her dark locks were now no more than shoulder length and secured with a cotton cord. Anna Marie, on the other hand in stark contrast to Angelica’s dark hair and dark eyes, quite fair of face and fair of hair and had obviously refused to have her hair cut. It hung in a coil draped over her shoulder almost to her waist, and her silk gown though hanging straight it was still a little flamboyant for a mere servant.

  Angelica laughed, which seemed so at odds with their present circumstance of soldiers and or militiamen on their trail. “You, Miss Whitaker,” she said, a sweeping curtsy, “will have to say Anna Marie is a little simple, and likes to pretend she is a princess.”

  “I hope we can evade any questions, for Francois has given warning to avoid villages and to be very careful in Vernon.”

  Anna Marie muttered something indiscernible, and Angelica turned on her for she was sufficient close to hear what was said. “I am in two minds to leave you here, you ungrateful good-for-nothing.”

  “Good-for-nothing,” screamed Anna Marie. “I am a Duke’s granddaughter, and will have you treat me with . . . “

  “All the more reason to keep your mouth shut,” said Angelica, cutting her short, “and it is most wise to play the simpleton if you wish to keep your head.”

  “Ladies, please,” interjected Richard, the door held wide. “We leave now or we may all be minus our heads by morning.”

  His outburst worked, for Anna Marie flew past him and out into the hall. By the time they reached the coche she was already settled inside and quite impatient to be off. Richard assisted Angelica to climb up beside the coachman, her cloak wrapped tight about her in comforting manner. He then turned, a concerned look upon his face. “Pray God we make it through.”

  “Indeed.” The hounds seemed very close, and they heard a pistol fired. Momentary silence befell the forest then the baying continued in earnest as though their quarry was again on the run. She accepted Richard’s hand in assisting her to her seat. “I pray Francois safe delivered, too.”

  “Is he not coming with us?”

  “No, he has gone to lead the hounds astray,” said Angelica, from up top.

  Richard clambered aboard and closed the door. Hardly before his rump was seated the coche lurched and rolled forward. “I did wonder why the change of plan.” He drew breath, exhaled deeply. “Brave man, and God speed,” he said, glancing into the black void that was the forest.

  Chapter Four

  ~

  On approach to Vernon the coachman slowed the horses from walk to a standstill, and it was Angelica who clambered down and came to the door. Richard opened it, her voice somewhat shaky. “You must alight here, Anna Marie, for Pierre must go on and into the town with Diamonta and the viscount. We cannot be seen, not here. People might recognise you.”

  “And what if they do?” demanded Anna Marie. “My mother and aunt are here.”

  “Precisely,” said Angelica, frustrated air about her. “Why must you always be so blind to reality? We are fugitives from justice, a price on our heads no doubt, and Pierre cannot avoid the town. He has to change the horses, or we shall not make many miles tonight. The moon still gives light, and he says he will need at least a full hour to exchange the horses. And we a little less time to walk the river path, for we will have to wait for him on the highway the other side of Vernon.”

  Richard stepped down from the coche, and offered a hand to Anna Marie. “Fear not dear girl, it is, perhaps for the best. I had forgotten we would need to change livery, and while Pierre sees to all that, Diamonta and I shall attempt to obtain sustenance of some sort or other for the journey.

  Angelica laughed. “Oh, I thought of that. I have a little bread, cheese, and apples,” she said, brandishing aloft her tied-cloth bundle.

  “Clever girl,” declared Richard.

  “I had thought to bring grapes and other fruits, but thought it better we appear less privileged if stopped and searched.”

  “Searched?” snapped Anna Marie. “Not if we are wandering river paths by moonlight.”

  “The sooner we set off the sooner we will all be together again.” Angelica turned to Anna Marie, caught up her hand. “Come on. Hurry.”

  There was no time to stay and watch them disappear. Richard fair leaped into the coche and Pierre set the horses once again on course. “At a rough guess I estimate we still have eighty miles to cover, and will not make the coast before tomorrow evening,” he said, “not at the speed we’re travelling.”

  “Is it any wonder, for the horses have done remarkably well in consideration of a very brief rest at the hunting lodge. Since then they have kept at a steady trot for the greater part of the journey.”

  “Could not agree more,” returned Richard, “though I must say my thoughts have dwelled with Angelica’s brother. I do hope the fellow escaped capture. I didn’t much like the sound of that gun shot we heard.”

  “Nor I, but I live in hope Francois is safe.”

  “I rather gained the impression you hold a lighted candle to Francois. Am I right?”

  She sensed a guilt-laden flush to her cheeks, and rather glad Richard could not see the rosy glow. “I like him well enough, and he is Angelica’s brother, so I suppose it’s fair to say I love him because of that.”

  “Diamonta Whitaker,” said Richard, a chuckle, “it is no odds to me if you have a fanciful admiration for the young count.”

  “But I . . . No. What I mean is . . .”

  “We’re good friends, you and I,” he said, stealing her words.

  “Well yes. The dearest of friends.”

  That is exactly what I told Leohne, yet still she doubts my intentions, I fear.”

  “Leohne?” Her heart lifted. “Oh, I see.”

  “I think you are somewhat surprised, but not disappointed I trust?”

  “Oh no, I can think of no one better than yourself for Leohne. But if honesty be our path, then why have you always sought my arm upon yours?”

  “I’ve known for a long while my earnest affections toward you were unbidden, and is not the power of jealousy great motive for revealing one’s true feelings? And unlike you, Leohne is unable to hide her emotions.”

  She laughed. “I feel sore abused, Viscount Somerton.” They both laughed, the houses of Vernon now surrounding them, the coche jolting to a halt outside an auberge. “Perhaps we are not too late to secure refreshment.”

  “I fancy aubergiste’ are more nosey than our average innkeepers back home, but this one seemed friendly enough earlier today.” Richard opened the door, the coachman probably more concerned with the horses. But as soon as he stepped down, he glanced back, said, “Keep your nerve, I think we are about to be challenged by official looking gentlemen.” He stepped forward, bowed to whomever on approach. “Good evening to you, sirs.”

  She slithered toward the door and peered out. True enough three men advancing did indeed look somewhat official in countenance. The shorter, stouter one in the middle with tailcoat that seemed a little too small, said more statement than question, “You are Engleesh?” Richard shrugged his shoulders, as though not understanding their French tongue. The little man sighed deeply, exasperation evident as he repeated in pigeon English, “You are Engleesh?” />
  Richard smiled, replied, “We are, my lady and myself, indeed English.”

  “Your business?”

  “Merchant, and . . .”

  “I am aware that is what you claim,” chirruped the little man, “and you came by this way earlier today. Now I wish to know where you have been and why you are returned so quickly.”

  “It’s like this,” said Richard, in matter of fact tone, “I . . . We were on our way to Paris, where I had business to conduct. We had no choice but to return here after militiamen stopped us en route and told us to turn back and leave France immediately.”

  The fat little man pushed past Richard and came to stand in front of her, but addressed himself to Richard. “This is your wife?”

  “Yes, my wife.”

  The little man’s piggy eyes assessed her dress, scrutinised her face, said, “Madame,” and bowed his head in respectful manner. “Please remain in your coche.” He then turned to Richard. “Come with me,” and led off inside the auberge.

  A sigh of relief escaped, for if correct in her thinking Richard was about to be given free pass to the coast. Thank God.

  ~~

  Pierre kept the fresh horses at a steady trot through Vernon and out onto the open highway, but reined them back to walk once sure they were safely distant from sight of the township.

  “It’s wonderful the way coaching in France is little different than in England. How awful this journey might have been if we’d had to stop to rest the horses every few hours.”

  “Too true,” said Richard, “and Pierre is quite secure in the knowledge he can call on fresh steeds at given points en route from Honfleur to Paris and back again.”

  Both she and Richard searched the roadside ahead for signs of Angelica and Anna Marie, but neither appeared. The coche finally ground to a halt, and still not a sign of the two women.

  “Could anything have happened, do you think?” She could barely see Richard’s face in the darkened interior of the coche, and the moon kept vanishing behind wisps of cloud, or was it mist? He remained silent, and that from him was unnerving. “Where are they?”

  He then moved quite suddenly, opened the door and stepped out. He spoke with the coachman, and it was clear both were worried at no sign of Angelica and Anna Marie. Pierre agreed to remain for a few minutes longer, but warned it would only take one rider from Vernon to think their coche waiting on the highway was odd indeed and in haste return to report his findings.

  So they waited in silence bar for odd ring of horseshoe on stone and chink of curb chain against bit, the horses ever restless. Worried almost senseless her heart skipped as Richard suddenly rushed to the rear of the coche and disappeared. She waited and listened with baited breath, and yes, she could hear a female voice: Angelica’s voice. And soon, she was there before her and clambering aboard. Richard too.

  “Where is Anna Marie?” she asked, as the coche jolted and Angelica and Richard fell into the seat opposite.

  Semi breathless, Angelica threw her hands in the air, quite annoyed in manner. “I tried to stop her, but Anna Marie can be so difficult at times. And this time, she made me so angry I slapped her. I tried to slap sense into her.”

  “Slapped her. Why for?”

  “She refused to take the river path, and insisted as her family lived nearby she would be quite safe there. So, the stupid thing turned around and ran in the opposite direction. I ran after her, and tripped and fell. By the time I reached the highway again she had vanished. I walked on a little way toward Vernon and there discovered a sign pointing to her aunt’s Château. What could I do? Follow her and hope I might live to tell the tale to my grandchildren in years to come, as she believes possible. No, I have more sense. For we, the titled grandees, the end has come.”

  Diamonta leaned forward, took her friend’s hands in hers. “You did your best for Anna Marie, and I am glad you are safe with us. For you are, and we have a pass to get us away from France and home to England.”

  “Poor Anna Marie,” said Angelica, tears aplenty. “Foolish, foolish Anna Marie.”

  “Will Francois be upset, when he finds out Anna Marie has stayed behind?”

  “He will be upset she has thrown her life away after he rescued us both from the palace gardens at Versailles. And no, he will not miss her company, for he dreaded it, and many times pleaded for any man to lure her away from him.”

  “Oh, I see. So they were never lovers?”

  Richard coughed, a gentlemanly cough to draw their attention. “Will he beg any man to lure Diamonta away from his arm, do you think?”

  Amidst tears and sniffles Angelica half-laughed. “I think not, and perhaps if one did he might call him to a duel at dawn.”

  “Ah,” sighed Richard. “Mutual attraction, it is then.”

  She would love to have slapped Richard for that comment. It was true, Francois unsettled her in many ways, but he may not have survived his daring feat to detain and engage his and his sister’s pursuers in a game of catch-me-if-you-can. And, further engagement between her and Francois might only ever happen within dreams.

  ~~

  They huddled together, Richard’s arms about their shoulders as the wind caught the sails and the boat momentarily shuddered. Once tacked into the wind the boat headed out into open waters, and the port of Honfleur would soon become a mere speck. They keened the quayside in hope Francois would come galloping into view. He did not, and sadness befell them.

  “He may make England, yet,” said Richard, a reassuring hug to each before letting his arms fall from their shoulders. “Who knows, perhaps he is there already.”

  “He would not have left without me,” said Angelica, as a stray tear trickled down her cheek.

  Diamonta could empathise, for her own heart too was breaking over loss of Francois. “We dared not wait for him. It was too dangerous in Honfleur. There were far too many inquisitive eyes for my liking, and we were so lucky to get passage on this boat and so quick. It was as though the locals wanted all foreigners out of the country, and for no one to see what is happening, what is going to happen.”

  “I know,’ said Angelica, eyes brimmed with tears. “My friends, my brother if not already dead, and of course, all at court, including the Queen I shouldn’t wonder. For it does seem as though that awful Lamotte woman has finally wreaked her vile revenge.”

  “Lamotte woman?”

  “You have not heard tell of the jewels, Diamonta,” enquired Richard.

  “Jewels, what jewels?”

  “A fabulous diamond necklace ordered in the Queen’s name, though never in her possession to wear.”

  “That is so, Diamonta,” intoned Angelica, tears at last ebbing. “That despicable Lamotte woman not only faked her and her husband’s title, she became Cardinal Rohan’s mistress and duped everyone at court. She never was a friend of the Queen, though pretended to be of influence and claimed the Queen’s ears hers to command. In that role of supposed confidante to Marie Antoinette she arranged delivery of the necklace, gave it to her husband and it is presumed he sold it in England for that is where he went. The Queen was terrible accused of having accepted the necklace and due monies unpaid. She denied it, of course, and as a lady-in-waiting to her majesty, I knew she had never received the necklace.”

  “Damnable case,” said Richard, expression of considered thought, “which did rather bring the Queen’s extravagances to public attention.”

  “And, of course, truth came to light. Lamotte was arrested, her punishment that of a good whipping and the branding iron.”

  “Little wonder she sought revenge,” said Diamonta, shivering in utter repulsion at such harsh treatment served on a woman. “Do you think the royals will be sent to the guillotine?”

  “I think it’s inevitable,” replied Angelica. “If not, why are we, aristocrats now hounded in the manner of escaped prisoners?”

  Diamonta wrapped her arm comfortingly around Angelica. “At least you’re safe, and can come and live with us.”

&
nbsp; “I would love to, but I think your mother will not approve of such an arrangement for too long. She is, after all, noblesse d’épée, and our title derived from noblesse militaire.”

  Diamonta hugged Angelica tight, and kissed her cheek. “Old nobility, or not, she will not see you out on the streets.”

  “Nevertheless, it may prove to be a stumbling block, Diamonta,” said Richard. “And rather than upset your good lady mother, I will see to it that Angelica has a roof over her head and a loan of monies to see her through for the time being.”

  “Oh thank you, thank you,” exclaimed Diamonta. “You are such a dear friend.”

  “I am speechless at your kindness,” said Angelica.

  “My pleasure,” returned Richard, a broad smile. “That’s settled then. No more to be said.”

  Chapter Five.

  ~

  “I cannot believe Richard has taken it upon himself to house that young lady under his own roof. Is he mad? What will everyone think of his having a trumped up grandee from the French court, and residing in his house? They will think she is his mistress.”

  “Mother, you can be very unforgiving at times. Who else was there to help Angelica? And why should any one think badly of Richard?”

  “Darling Diamonta,” said her mother, most stern. “Francois de Boviere and his sister are . . . How shall I say . . .Not of noble blood. They are noble in name only, and their title and land acquired by their great grandfather for service to the King. They are noblesse militaire, and you know quite well what that means.”

  “You despise the de Boviere family just because their great grandfather gained royal favour by way of military service to Louis?”