The Highwayman's Daughter

by Henriette Gyland

  ‘And Alethea?’ asked Jack. ‘Must she die too?’

  Rupert glanced at his sister. Alethea stared back, her eyes huge, but not with fear or pleading – never pleading, not Alethea – but with defiance. With her head held high, her chin out, and her eyes promising Armageddon, she was like the Queen of the Nile, beautiful, regal and deadlier than the asp that killed her.

  With shock, Jack realised that she reminded him exactly of Cora. Whatever Rupert planned to do with her, like Cora she wouldn’t go willingly to her death. The thought filled him with pride for his young cousin.

  Rupert must have seen it too for he took a step back in alarm. ‘Alethea wasn’t meant to be here, but now that she is, what else can I do but to get rid of her too?’

  Jack tried a different tactic. ‘Rupert, we were friends once. Remember when we raided Sir Christopher’s fruit garden? The look on that old miser’s face … Or when we stuffed the housekeeper’s mattress with holly? I never saw such a shade of puce!’

  For a moment Rupert smiled with a faraway look in his eyes. ‘I remember you getting me into trouble for that,’ he said.

  Jack recalled it quite differently: Rupert coming up with the ideas, and himself being caned. ‘We had fun, though. Doesn’t that count for something?’

  Rupert regarded him steadily, and Jack was convinced he was coming around. But Rupert’s wistful expression was quickly replaced by a hard stare.

  ‘That’s by the by,’ he said coolly. ‘It’s time to end this. But I’m not an ogre; I’ll give you a choice of who gets to die first. Does my sister get to see you die, or vice versa? And if you’re wondering how I plan to get away with this, it’s quite simple; you were attacked by a highwaywoman, and I came to your rescue. That’ll put your lady friend nicely in the frame, don’t you think?’

  ‘She’ll never be caught,’ said Jack. The mention of her made his heart jolt, and he hoped Rupert couldn’t tell that his words were pure bravado.

  ‘No? Well, I beg to differ. I’m sure she’ll want to visit her father’s grave one last time. Surely she’ll have heard his body was discovered by the magistrate, or if not, she soon will. All I have to do is lie in wait for her.’

  Jack’s hands were nearly free, and when they were, he was certain that he could overpower Rupert. Then he would make sure his half-brother received all the help available to those suffering a sickness of the mind. He just needed to buy a little more time.

  ‘My father has always seen you right, hasn’t he?’ he continued. ‘You never wanted for anything, and no demands were made of you. A title and an estate comes with the heavy burden of responsibility. Wouldn’t you rather be without it?’

  ‘You don’t think I’m up to the job?’ Rupert sneered.

  ‘Frankly, I don’t think a title is worth committing murder for.’ Jack’s right hand was almost free. ‘It’ll weigh too heavily on your conscience, my friend.’

  ‘I disagree. Since you will not play the game and tell me who dies first, I’ve decided that it’ll be you, if only to silence you.’ Rupert pulled out his pistol and pointed it at Jack.

  Finally he was free. Before Rupert had time to cock his weapon, Jack jumped up and grabbed the rapier. But the feeling hadn’t returned to his hands after they had been bound so tightly, and his grip was clumsy. Deftly, Rupert sidestepped the weapon, socked Jack in the jaw with his elbow, and wrenched the blade out of his hand. With his boot he sent Jack sprawling on the ground again, and he pulled Alethea up by the hair.

  Alethea shrieked with shock and tried to strike him with her bound hands, but Rupert took her hard by the arm and held her away from him.

  ‘You’ve made a difficult choice for me. I had thought to spare you watching my high-and-mighty sister die, but now it’ll give me the greatest pleasure to see the pain in your eyes,’ Rupert shouted at Jack.

  He put the pistol to Alethea’s temple and cocked it.

  ‘Rupert, for pity’s sake!’ Jack scrambled to his feet. ‘Think of what you’re d—’

  The shot echoed in the forest, and Alethea fell sideways. Inside, Jack broke into a thousand pieces.

  ‘Oh, God! Please God, not Alethea!’

  He dropped to his knees, wanting nothing more than to die himself if only to end the unbearable pain in his chest. Slowly, averting his eyes, he crawled towards her body, preparing himself for a most horrific sight. He knew he was going to do die, but it didn’t matter anymore. All he wanted to do was cradle his innocent cousin in his arms before his own life ended. If only he could hold Cora one last time too.

  But on reaching Alethea, he found her staring back at him, very much alive. He blinked, unable to believe his own eyes. Sitting up, Alethea shook her head.

  ‘I … I’m unhurt,’ she said in a daze, as if she couldn’t quite believe it either.

  Jack’s eyes travelled to Rupert, who returned his look with a dull expression and a curious half-smile. His hand dropped to his side, and the pistol slipped from his grasp. Blood bubbled from Rupert’s lips, and he tumbled to the ground like a felled tree.

  ‘Rupert!’ Jack rushed to his side.

  ‘Never was … much good with … pistols.’

  ‘Don’t talk. We’ll get a physician. You’ll be all right. You’ll see.’

  Rupert grabbed Jack by the lapel, and Jack leaned closer to hear what he was saying. ‘Alethea … wasn’t supposed to … be here. Didn’t want … to harm her. Promise you’ll look after her. She … trouble.’ He let go of Jack’s coat as if it was too much effort to hold on. Then his eyes lost their focus, and his head fell sideways.

  He was dead.

  Solemnly Jack closed Rupert’s unseeing eyes; then looked up when he sensed movement behind him

  Cora was standing a few feet away, by the tree where Alethea had sat only a moment ago. Smoke still rose from the barrel of her pistol, and the hand which held it trembled uncontrollably. Her eyes were huge with terror and revulsion.

  ‘Cora …’

  With a shriek she dropped the pistol and fled into the trees. Before Jack could get up, he heard the sound of thundering hooves disappearing in the thicket.

  ‘No! Come back!’

  It was too late: she was gone.

  Again.

  He turned to Alethea, unsure what to do. No matter what Rupert had intended to do, the loss of his cousin was still raw, and he feared the two men might return. He had to see Alethea to safety, but if he did, Cora might disappear out of his life forever. Thus torn, he looked between Alethea and where Cora had vanished. Alethea made his mind up for him.

  ‘Go after her.’

  ‘I need to see you home first.’ Though it wrenched his heart to acknowledge it. ‘What if the men return?’ Helping her up, he quickly cut her bonds.

  ‘I doubt they will. After all, they’ve been paid.’ She snorted contemptuously. ‘We’re not that far from home. Someone is bound to have heard the shot. Help will be on its way.’

  Jack glanced at Rupert’s dead body. ‘How do we explain this?’

  ‘We follow Rupert’s plan; to be just, it was well thought out. I’ll say we were attacked by highway robbers, and that Rupert came to our aid but was killed. I can give a very good description of the two men. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll disappear.’

  ‘But will you be believed?’

  Alethea smiled. ‘Oh, I’ll swoon and do a very good impression of a damsel in distress. Blencowe will be hanging on my every word. Just go, Jack. Don’t miss this opportunity for true happiness.’

  ‘If you’re sure …?’ Jack hovered, his hand on the horse’s bridle.

  ‘I’m sure. Now go. I will stay with Rupert’s body. Say my goodbyes.’ Tears welled up in Alethea’s eyes. ‘Oh, Jack! Rupert was misguided, but he was my brother. I shall feel the loss keenly.’

  ‘We all will,’ Jack said and meant it. He swung himself into the saddle and spurred the horse forward in a gallop.

  He found Cora exactly where he’d known she would be. She stood with
her head bowed in front of the graves in the forest clearing. When Jack came closer he could see that the larger of the two boards – the one bearing Sarah Duval’s inscription – had been knocked aside roughly and scrawled with foul words.

  Lord Heston, he thought, and rage welled up in him. Who else would desecrate the grave of Cora’s mother?

  Startled, Cora swung around with the second of her two pistols raised, but she lowered it and returned it to her waistband when she saw who it was.

  ‘Who would do such a thing?’ she asked him with stifled sob.

  His heart clenched at the sight of her distress, and, taking her hands, he drew them to his chest, caressing her fingers as he did so. He was relieved when she didn’t pull away, and it touched him how his nearness seemed to comfort her. He intended to comfort her the rest of his life if she’d let him, and now that Rupert was gone, her secret was safe. Their secret.

  ‘Lord Heston, I should think,’ he replied. ‘He always had a bone to pick with your mother. But don’t worry, the man will get his comeuppance one day. Right now we need to talk. And just so you know – I’ve chased your horse away.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So you can’t run away from me again.’

  With a wan smile she shrugged. ‘I’m finding it hard to run away altogether. I love this place. I was happy here.’

  ‘And I love you.’

  He drew her closer to kiss her, but she pulled back, shaking her head.

  ‘No, Jack, we mustn’t. I beg you, don’t tempt me. I fear I might be your sister. We committed a terrible sin when we … when we made love.’ she added in a whisper.

  ‘And what has made you draw this conclusion?’ he asked, surprised.

  ‘Lord Heston.’ Cora shuddered visibly. ‘I showed him my mother’s ring as proof of my identity because I needed his help to free Ned. He told me it was likely given to her by your father – Geoffrey. His initial was on the ring.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘He was wrong. Please let me explain, Cora. You’re not my sister.’

  ‘How can you know? If the earl is my father, how can we not be siblings?’

  ‘He’s not. Your father was the captain, as I always suspected.’

  Cora stared at him, incredulous. ‘But why would Lord Heston claim this?’

  ‘Who knows? I’ve never liked the man and wouldn’t put it past him to try and cause mischief. Or perhaps he truly believes it to be the case. Either way, he is wrong.’ Jack held out his hand, and slowly, tentatively, she took it. ‘Come, let’s sit,’ he said and pulled her towards a large tree stump.

  When he was certain Cora wasn’t about to leap up and disappear, Jack began his tale.

  When he had finished, Cora stared at him dubiously. ‘But how can we be together if Lord Heston knows I’m his first wife’s child?’ she said.

  Jack shrugged. ‘It’s unfortunate, but I don’t believe he’ll divulge our secret. He gains nothing by revealing he was cuckolded, or by attempting to discredit our family, especially as he’s hoping for his son to marry Alethea.’

  ‘But think of the gossip, if he does. The damage to your reputation, and your family’s. Society will shun you.’

  ‘Society is fickle. There would be gossip, yes, but it’d die down as soon as another scandal broke.’

  Cora sighed. ‘But you must be aware that – regardless of my blood – I was reared differently to you. I’ll always be seen as a labourer’s daughter.’

  ‘I know, and we’ll announce it proudly while we hold our heads up high.’ Jack brought her hands to his lips and kissed each palm in turn.

  Desire shot through Cora, and she felt her objections melting away. ‘And he was a highwayman too, in the past,’ she said fiercely, in a final attempt to get Jack to see sense. ‘If that comes out …’

  ‘Then that is whom I shall marry: the highwayman’s daughter.’

  Sighing again, Cora leaned into him and put her head on his shoulder. ‘It won’t be easy. There’ll be those who think they can take liberties with me because of my background.’

  ‘Then they’ll taste steel.’

  She looked up and met his eyes, which glinted dangerously. Smiling, she said, ‘You can’t duel with every man who insults me.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of doing so. I should imagine my reputation with a rapier precedes me and I’d only have to duel one or two.’

  ‘And their wives?’

  ‘What do you care for women’s gossip? You’re not a timorous schoolgirl.’

  ‘Our children might,’ she whispered.

  ‘Our children will have everything they could ever dream of,’ said Jack forcefully.

  ‘They’ll be rich, to be sure.’

  Holding her closer, Jack smoothed back a lock of her hair. ‘That’s not what I meant. They’ll have parents who’re devoted to them, and to each other. It’ll make them strong.’

  Shaking her head, Cora withdrew from his embrace. ‘It’ll never work. I’m a murderess.’

  ‘Devil take it, woman!’ Jack laughed. ‘I love you and wish to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ll protect you as you protected me. You saved my life, and my cousin’s. Rupert had lost his mind and would have … well, let’s not talk about that now. Tell me how you found us.’

  ‘But, Jack—’

  ‘Just tell me,’ he insisted.

  Cora pulled his fob watch out of her pocket and handed it to him. ‘I came to give you this.’

  ‘Is that all?’ His hand closed over the watch, still in Cora’s hand. Cora met his eyes and saw that it wasn’t true. ‘I recollect you stole something else from me that night,’ he continued.

  ‘Yes, your hair.’ Cora swallowed hard.

  ‘Oh I wasn’t referring to my queue: I was referring to my heart.’ He caressed her hand with his thumb. ‘The moment I saw you I was lost. Only I didn’t know it then. Say you will marry me? Whatever troubles we face, it can be nothing compared to a life without you.’

  She met his eyes. Jack was right; they could brave whatever transpired, and they would do it together. His scent and the protection of his strong arms were so familiar that when she leaned back into his embrace it was as if she had finally come home. ‘Your heart?’ she teased. ‘Do I get to keep it?’

  ‘Of course.’ Holding her close, he kissed the top of her head. ‘But you’re obliged to take care of it and not sell it to some middleman.’

  The clearing echoed with his laughter as Cora thumped him on the shoulder.

  Epilogue

  Edward John Blythe was born exactly seven months after the marriage between Miss Cora Mardell and Viscount Halliford, causing a flurry of gossip.

  As she held her baby in her arms for the first time, however, Cora’s happiness was complete and she knew words couldn’t hurt her. There would always be wagging tongues wherever she went: she was a labourer, and her father had stood accused of highway robbery – although the magistrate never found any evidence to support Ned’s confession. All she could do was hold her head high, but the sense of completeness and belonging with Jack helped her weather the gossip. As Jack had said, the busybodies would eventually tire of the game.

  Little Ned had his mother’s wild, black curls, his father’s eyes, and his cousin Alethea’s temperament. No one could be in any doubt about his lineage.

  ‘He’s so small,’ said Jack, who had come to sit on the bed as soon as the midwife would allow it. ‘Will he live?’

  Cradling Ned with one arm, Cora reached up and stroked her husband’s worried face. It was never far from their minds that they had both lost siblings still in their infancy.

  ‘That’s not up to us, but we’ll protect him as best we can,’ she said. ‘Besides, look how heartily he suckles. I think he’s a fighter, this one.’

  He met her eyes, and she saw humour behind the concern. ‘I suppose with you as his mother that was inevitable. I believe you can do anything, Cora. Let’s hope our son is the same.’

  ‘So can you, Jack, and I for one, ho
pe he takes after you.’

  When she was sufficiently recovered from the birth, Jack took her for a walk in the vast gardens of the estate. With Little Ned held safely drowsing against his shoulder, he held his arm around Cora as if he never intended to let go.

  It was a fine spring evening, with a sky the colour of apricot and a light breeze. The majestic oak trees rustled their leaves as if greeting the young family. Sighing into her husband’s embrace, Cora thought it impossible to be any happier than she was at this very moment.

  When Jack steered her in the direction of the family mausoleum, she sent him a questioning glance. ‘A strange place to take your wife for an evening stroll, don’t you think?’

  Then she understood why. Among the ancient earls and countesses, a new plaque had been erected. Kneeling down with a lump in her throat, Cora ran her fingers over the carved relief of a masked man on horseback; then traced the names of the three people who had meant the world to her once: Ned Mardell, Sarah Duval Mardell, and her baby brother, Tom.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to do this for a while,’ Jack said, ‘and Father and Mother agreed, but I wanted it to be a surprise. The highwayman was my idea. I hope I did right.’

  Eyes brimming with happy tears, Cora rose and hugged her husband and son close. Little Ned snuffled in his sleep but didn’t wake.

  ‘I thought you’d want to keep quiet about my lowly connections,’ she said.

  Jack shook his head. ‘I owe your father a debt of gratitude. If he hadn’t taken you in and brought you up as his own, I would never have met you. I love you, my heart. Whatever you are, I’ll never be ashamed of it. I look forward to the rest of our lives together.’

  ‘And I love you,’ she whispered against his chest.

  About the Author

  Henriette lives in London but grew up in Northern Denmark and moved to England after she graduated from the University of Copenhagen. She wrote her first book when she was ten, a tale of two orphan sisters running away to Egypt fortunately to be adopted by a perfect family they meet on the Orient Express.