The Belle Dames Club

by Melinda Hammond

  ‘That would be highway robbery,’ breathed Georgiana, her eyes widening.

  ‘Are you afraid to join me?’ asked Lady Gaunt.

  Georgiana looked at her sister. She giggled nervously.

  ‘No-o, but it is very dangerous.’

  ‘Only if we are caught,’ retorted the Viscountess. ‘I made it my business to discover how the captain means to travel, so the risks are minimal.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I have already ascertained that Captain Shirley pays off his outriders once they have crossed Hounslow Heath. He will have only his driver, and perhaps one guard.’

  ‘I would dearly love to join you,’ said Lady Sarah, ‘but Toby’s mama has summoned us to dinner tomorrow night, and I cannot cry off.’

  ‘No matter, Sally. We will manage without you.’

  Clarissa put up her hand.

  ‘No, ma’am, pray forget this scheme. It is madness.’

  Lady Gaunt looked at her.

  ‘Why?’ she said coolly. ‘What is so different between this and our original plan?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Emily. ‘In fact, is this not a much nobler scheme? It could help to save thousands from slavery.’

  Clarissa looked helplessly at the excited faces around her. Only Julia Norwell seemed anxious. She tried again.

  ‘Should we not consult the others?’

  ‘I have deliberately not asked them to join us, my dear,’ said Lady Gaunt. ‘Your stepmama has enough to worry her at the present time, Letitia and Alicia are not happy about our original scheme and Augusta – well, the captain is her cousin, so it would be out of the question to involve her.’ She gave her thin smile. ‘No, this will be a secret for just the six of us. We will consider it a dress rehearsal for Saturday.’

  Minutes later the ladies departed and the room was silent again. For five minutes more nothing moved save the shadows thrown by a guttering candle. Then the curtains over the window twitched, and a stockinged leg emerged from the velvet hangings: a stockinged leg adorned with blue knee-ribbons.

  Nothing could be more decorous than the riding party that gathered outside Lady Gaunt’s Grosvenor Square mansion the following day. There were only five ladies present, and after waiting a good half-hour for Julia to arrive, the viscountess decided that they would have to set off.

  ‘Perhaps she is ill,’ suggested Lady Sarah.

  ‘Or lost her nerve,’ remarked Emily. ‘She was not at all happy about this venture.’

  ‘Well, we cannot wait, or we shall miss our quarry,’ said Lady Gaunt. She signalled to Grantham to throw her up into the saddle and moments later, the little group set off. Clarissa looked over her shoulder.

  ‘Why Grantham, and not your groom, Lady Gaunt?’

  ‘We need only one servant with us, and Grantham is – ah – most discreet.’

  ‘Quite,’ murmured Miss Wyckenham, her eyes twinkling merrily. ‘And just what is your plan for today, ma’am?’

  ‘The good captain should be leaving town in just under the hour – I found that out from Augusta last night: thought it would be useful to know.’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  ‘The captain told me he pays off his escort at Colnebrook, so we will ride past there and lie in wait for him.’

  ‘And the men’s clothing?’

  Lady Gaunt smiled.

  ‘Grantham took everything in a wagon early this morning, including the men’s saddles that we shall need. I am glad to see that you all heeded my advice to bring horses with no distinctive markings – so much easier to avoid detection.’

  Clarissa laughed.

  ‘Dorothea, you were born to be hanged!’

  ‘Thank you, my dear. I will take that as a compliment.’

  With the town behind them they quickened their pace, through Kensington and Hammersmith, across Turnham Green and bearing right at Hounslow and across the Heath to Cranford.

  ‘We had best leave the road here and travel across country,’ said Lady Gaunt. ‘It would not do to advertise our presence here. Grantham will lead the way.’

  They swung north, cutting across fields and through woods to pick up the Great Western Road again between Colnebrook and Slough. A stretch of open ground led down to the road, and apart from a small copse, the land towards Colnebrook had been recently cleared, although dozens of felled trees lay untidily along the length of the road.

  ‘What a desolate spot!’ declared Emily, shivering.

  ‘Then it is perfect for us,’ said Lady Gaunt. ‘Grantham has left the wagon up there in those trees. Come along: we have to change.’

  Seeing the others in their men’s attire, Clarissa wished that she too was masquerading. The dark riding jackets and buckskins fitted well, but disguised their feminine curves. Satin masks covered their eyes and woollen mufflers could be pulled up over the lower part of the face to give an almost total disguise. Each lady wore her hair tucked up securely under a tricorne hat and when they turned to Clarissa for her opinion, she applauded them enthusiastically.

  ‘I wish I could join you,’ she said, watching them swagger up and down in front of her.

  ‘We need you here to keep watch,’ said Lady Gaunt. ‘You have a good view of the road from here in both directions.’ She beckoned to Grantham, who handed each of them an elegant pistol. ‘Be careful, Grantham has already loaded them.’

  ‘What are we to do with these?’ asked Georgiana, holding her weapon nervously before her.

  ‘Tuck it in your waistband for now – you need not worry, it won’t go off unless you cock it. Clarissa, you must have one too.’

  ‘But I have never fired a pistol, Dorothea.’

  ‘You must use it to warn us if anyone approaches while we are relieving the captain of his money. Now, Grantham will take the carriage to Grosvenor Square – it will be dark by the time we return so we can ride back in disguise.’ She took out her watch. ‘You had best be going, Grantham, it is nearly five: even allowing for slow horses, the captain should be here soon.’

  They settled down to wait within the cover of the trees. The cloud grew thicker and a chill wind sprang up, rustling through the trees and making the horses stamp and snort nervously. In the next hour they saw only one lumbering farm-cart and a clergyman riding a tired-looking nag.

  Emily coughed nervously.

  ‘You are sure we have the right road, Dorothea?’ she said. ‘He should have been here by now.’

  ‘Of course this is the road. Perhaps he was delayed getting away, or he may have stopped at an inn.’

  ‘So close to London?’ said Clarissa. ‘That is not likely, is it, ma’am?’

  ‘No, I admit it is not.’ Lady Gaunt took out her watch again. ‘It’s past six. The light is already fading. Damn this cloud!’

  ‘Most likely he was delayed,’ said Georgiana, the most optimistic of them all.

  ‘Well,’ said Emily, ‘if he doesn’t come soon—’

  Clarissa waved her hand.

  ‘Hush, someone’s coming, from Colnebrook.’

  They all followed the line of her pointing finger: a coach pulled by four sweating horses was coming towards them.

  ‘It’s the captain!’ cried Emily, jumping up and down.

  Lady Gaunt stared down at the road.

  ‘I believe it is. Mount up, ladies!’

  They waited until the coach reached the open ground then at a signal from the Viscountess they went cantering down the slope to intercept it.

  Clarissa moved to the very edge of the wood to watch. A shot rang out: Clarissa suspected it was Lady Gaunt who had stationed herself in the road, forcing the coach to stop, but the failing light made it difficult to see. As the ‘highwaymen’ closed in, a man climbed out of the carriage, waving his arms as if to remonstrate with the attackers.

  A movement on the far side of the road caught Clarissa’s attention. A light rain had started to fall and Clarissa had to strain her eyes to pierce the enveloping mist. The fallen trees and gorse bushes could not conceal riders, but – another movement cau
ght her eye and cold, panicky fear chilled her. There were men crawling amongst the felled trees. She knew she must warn the others and her right hand reached for the pistol, but before she could pull it free from the pocket of her riding jacket, she found herself caught in a vice-like grip, and a large hand was clamped over her mouth.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘Don’t scream.’ A low voice sounded close to her ear. ‘No noise, and I’ll let you go. Understand?’

  Quaking, she managed a slight nod. The hand came away from her mouth, but the steel grip remained on her arm. Slowly she turned her head, and found herself looking into the dark eyes of the Earl of Alresford. He let her go and nodded towards the men hiding amongst the fallen trees.

  ‘We need to pin them down.’ He took out his own pistol. ‘Shoot over their heads.’ Clarissa was still reeling with shock, but she tried to concentrate.

  ‘What – what if I hit someone?’

  He looked at her.

  ‘Have you ever handled a pistol before?’

  ‘No, never.’

  ‘Don’t worry, your chances of hitting anything at this distance are remote.’ He raised his arm. ‘Ready? Fire!’

  Two reports sounded. The noise and recoil sent Clarissa staggering back, the pistol flying from her hand. Lord Alresford did not turn: he was staring down at the road.

  ‘Good. They’ve taken cover: that will give your friends precious seconds to get away.’

  Coming up beside him, Clarissa watched as the ‘highwaymen’ wheeled their horses and set off along the road.

  ‘Where are they going? They are heading the wrong way.’

  ‘As long as they are riding away from here that is all that matters for the moment. Don’t worry about them – our friends down there have seen the flash from the muzzles, look.’

  Horrified, Clarissa saw a group of riders appear from the small copse. The earl caught her arm.

  ‘We must go.’

  She ran to her horse. The earl threw her into the saddle and scrambled up on to his own black hunter.

  ‘This way.’ He led her through the woods at a canter. Although the trees were not yet in full leaf, the light in the wood was poor and Clarissa struggled to see the way as she pushed her horse on, keeping as close to the earl as she dared. Then they were flying across open country and although the going was easier, she trembled as she heard a shot ring out behind them. Suddenly Alresford veered to one side and plunged into another belt of trees.

  ‘Cover,’ she muttered to herself. ‘We are safer under cover.’

  Once within the shelter of the trees he drew rein and waited for her to catch up. As she brought the bay mare alongside his horse she blurted out the question that had been nagging at her since they had started their flight.

  ‘What are you doing here – how did you know of this?’

  ‘Julia. She was so nervous about this whole business that it became apparent even to Barnabus that something was wrong. He coaxed the story from her and persuaded her to stay at home.’ There was a hint of a smile as he glanced across. ‘She would not have been much use to you.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Clarissa. ‘Poor Julia having hysterics could only have compounded our problems today: I suppose Barnabus told you everything.’

  ‘He did, but I would not have interfered – your mad-cap schemes are none of my business, after all – but I was driving through St James’s Street last night after he had told me the whole. I saw Besthorpe talking to Captain Shirley. Knowing what I did, I thought it was odd, so I followed Shirley when he left town. Fortunately I was keeping to the trees up here on the ridge, and came across you in time to raise the alarm.’

  ‘I suppose I must thank you.’

  His severe look fled, replaced by something very close to a grin.

  ‘Much as you hate to do so!’

  She could not resist an answering smile.

  ‘You are right, I hate to be beholden to you. But it must be done, and I will do so graciously.’ The look that passed between them turned Clarissa’s insides to water, and she was obliged to grip the reins to combat the dizziness that threatened her. She was relieved when he looked away.

  ‘Very well, ma’am. We had best press on, and quickly, for they saw us enter these trees and will surely search here.’

  The flight seemed endless. They crashed through the undergrowth, emerging on open ground where the earl kicked his horse on to canter up the rise before dropping down the other side into a green lane. Sounds of pursuit had faded and the rain stopped, but still they pressed on until Clarissa was exhausted and her bay mare labouring to keep up with the earl’s powerful hunter. And all the time it grew darker.

  At last the pace slowed. They had entered a small copse, disturbing the nesting rooks who took to the air, protesting noisily. The earl stopped.

  ‘I think we’ve lost them.’

  ‘Have we lost ourselves?’ she murmured with a flash of spirit. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘I am not sure: we have been travelling north mostly, so probably nearing Uxbridge. We haven’t crossed the river, though.’ He jumped down as nimbly as if he had just enjoyed a quiet ride in the park. ‘You look tired, Miss Wyckenham. Let’s rest here for a moment. He came across to help her dismount and she slid into his arms. His hold tightened as her knees buckled.

  ‘Thank you.’ She tried to laugh, but found her voice shaking. ‘I do not think I can stand.’

  His grip did not relax and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

  ‘I take it this mad-cap scheme was Lady Gaunt’s idea?’

  Clarissa could not deny it.

  ‘She wanted to take the slave-trader’s money and give it to the abolitionists.’ Now that the excitement was over, she felt the tears prickling against her eyelids. ‘It was very wrong of us and I am grateful that you came to our rescue, even though you must be very angry.’

  To her surprise he threw back his head and laughed, a full, deep laugh that rang through the trees.

  ‘Angry? No, not angry. No one appears to be any the worse for this adventure and if Captain Shirley’s complacent bubble has been pricked, so much the better.’

  She turned her face up to look at him. The laughter had banished his usual austerity and the smile that lurked in his eyes as he looked down at her made her heart turn over.

  ‘Are you … enjoying this?’ she asked him, her voice hushed with amazement.

  ‘Flying cross-country in the rain, pursued by armed men? Yes, yes I am. Are not you?’

  He looked at her, inviting her to share his merriment. Clarissa’s breath caught in her throat.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she managed at last. ‘I thought, I thought….’

  He grinned, and her words died away completely.

  ‘When I first saw you I had the oddest feeling that you carried the sunshine with you.’ He shrugged. ‘It was as if I was living in some huge dark mansion, and every time we met you threw open another window, letting in more light.’

  ‘Oh.’

  His arms tightened about her.

  ‘You have taught me to laugh at life again, Clarissa.’

  His dark head came down and she instinctively raised her face to his, meeting his lips with her own. The touch made her senses reel. She had read of the experiments with electricity, where the power crackled between two points, and now she felt she was experiencing just such a phenomenon. Her skin tingled, her body seemed to meld itself to his. She wanted to climb inside his very skin in her efforts to be close to him.

  At last he broke free. He held her away from him, his breathing very ragged.

  ‘We had best get on. We cannot go much further tonight and we need a shelter. Can you ride a little more?’

  Dumbly she nodded, still dazed from the shock of his kiss. What did it mean? She asked herself the question once she was in the saddle again and following Lord Alresford out of the copse. She had seen her father embrace Mama-Nell in just such
a fashion when one of his horses had won at Ascot. He had lifted her off her feet and swung her round in the exuberance of the moment. That was all it could be. The earl had been brimming with excitement from the chase and it needed an outlet. That did not explain his words, of course. Gradually Clarissa found that the disturbing effects of his kiss were giving way to a much softer but equally frightening idea: that he truly liked her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  They had left the copse behind them and were now riding along a narrow ridge with the land falling away gently to one side. Clarissa brought her mare closer to the black hunter.

  ‘My lord, how long will it take to get back to town?’

  ‘Too long to reach it before dark. If my memory serves me correctly the river is over in that direction. We can cross it at Uxbridge, but then it is still more than an hour’s ride.’ He pointed down the hill. ‘There is a small building in the field down there, a shepherd’s hut, most likely, and a stream. Water for ourselves and the horses. We can shelter there until it is light.’

  He did not wait for her to comment but pushed on again in the failing light: to the west, a purple-black bank of cloud was rising, bringing with it the promise of a black, wet night. They crossed the field in silence and after a rapid look around to make sure there was no one in sight, dismounted by a small wooden hut.

  ‘This is not big enough for the horses,’ muttered the earl. ‘We will risk letting them run free.’ He pushed open the door and Clarissa followed him inside. Two slits high in the walls, just below the eaves, allowed in a little light and once her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom she saw that it was bare save for a pile of straw in one corner and a horn beaker on a ledge. A small fireplace had been built into one wall, with sticks and wood lying ready.

  ‘Stay here while I see to the horses.’

  ‘I will help you.’ She moved back to the door. ‘It will be done in half the time if there are two of us, and the light is almost gone.’