Rebeccah and the Highwayman

by Barbara Davies

  Rebeccah began to recognise her surroundings. Let Robert be there with the carriage, she prayed, as they turned into the Farringdon Road. But there was no sign of the coach and four. A church bell chiming 12 o’clock surprised her - enough had happened to her today for it to seem like late afternoon.

  “If he doesn’t come soon,” said Kate, “we should find some small beer for your sister. She needs to drink something.”

  “Small beer,” repeated Anne, before resuming her humming.

  “What about coffee?” asked Rebeccah. “They say it makes one more alert.”

  “Even better,” agreed the highwaywoman. “There’s a coffee house just around the corner.”

  “Coffee,” said Anne.

  Before Rebeccah could reply, the clipclopping of hooves brought her to a halt. She shaded her eyes against the sunshine. The Dutton coach and four was heading towards them, with Robert at the reins.

  “Thank God!” She exchanged a relieved smile with Kate.

  Then the carriage was pulling up beside them, and Robert was climbing down. Before he could help, Kate had got the carriage door open and handed Rebeccah up.

  “I’ll pass your sister up,” she said, as Rebeccah took her seat, then turned arms outstretched. “Ready?” A powerful hand boosted Anne’s rump.

  “Whoops!”

  Once more, the sisters fought to keep their balance. It took them a moment to untangle themselves, straighten their dresses, and settle themselves more comfortably, and by then, Kate had closed the carriage door behind her and was taking the seat opposite.

  Rebeccah took a moment to luxuriate in the fact she was sitting down at last, then rapped her knuckles on the carriage roof. “Home, Robert.”

  “At once, Madam.” The coach lurched into motion.

  “I know you, do I not?” Anne was staring at the highwaywoman again.

  “Of course you do, dear.” Rebeccah threw Kate an anxious glance. “It’s a good friend of ours,”

  Anne grabbed Rebeccah’s hand. “Look!” Her voice was urgent.

  Rebeccah followed the direction of her sister’s gaze and saw that Kate’s coat had come open, revealing the pistol tucked in her breeches. Kate closed her coat at once, but it was too late.

  “It’s that highwayman,” continued Anne, her voice a quaver. “What was his name …. Blue-Eyed something?” She was looking at Kate like a rabbit at a stoat.

  The grip on Rebeccah’s hand was almost painful. “Don’t be frightened,” she said. “He’s helping us. Remember? He rescued you from Titus.”

  At the footman’s name, Anne’s gaze turned inwards. At least she was no longer staring at Kate. “Titus said I am to marry him.” She frowned. “But that cannot be right, can it, Beccah?” She gave her sister a pleading glance. “For I’m to marry Mr. Ingrum, am I not?”

  “Indeed you are.” At least Rebeccah hoped so.

  “Oh, my head aches.” Anne rubbed her temple. “Why does it ache so?”

  “Because you have been ill.” Kate’s intervention drew a startled glance from Rebeccah. “But you will be better shortly. We are taking you home and Mary will soon be on hand to take good care of you.”

  “Mary?” The mention of the plump maid who had nursed the Duttons through numerous illnesses seemed to calm her, and Rebeccah turned a grateful glance on Kate.

  Anne’s eyelids fluttered closed. Soon after, soft snores filled the carriage.

  Rebeccah exchanged a relieved smile with Kate and relaxed back in her seat. In the peace and quiet, she had time at last to consider the worrying subject of her sister’s maidenhead. Would Frederick Ingrum still marry Anne if Titus was found to have violated her? She looked up, and found Kate watching her.

  “Her fianc? will undoubtedly still marry her,” said the highwaywoman, somehow divining her thoughts and keeping her voice low so as not to wake Anne, “for her fortune is intact even if she is not.”

  The logic of her reply struck Rebeccah. “And that her fortune is intact is thanks entirely to you.”

  “And to you,” countered Kate, with a smile. “She is fortunate to have such a quick witted sister.”

  Rebeccah pinked at the compliment. “I would feel more content,” she continued, “if I could be certain that she will not forever bear the scars of this … ordeal.” Kate nodded her understanding. “To think of my sister helpless and alone with that despicable…” She trailed off, unable to put her outrage and disgust into words.

  “If Titus did force himself on your sister,” said Kate, “it will have been while she was under the influence of the poppy juice. She will have little memory of it and hopefully no lasting distress.”

  “I hope for her sake you are right.”

  The coach began to slow, and Rebeccah looked out the window and recognised her surroundings. “We’re almost there.”

  Kate didn’t reply, and Rebeccah remembered with a jolt of distress that the house in St James’s was not Kate’s home and her departure was imminent. The urge to express her admiration and gratitude before it was too late overwhelmed her, and careful not to disturb her sister, she reached forward and pressed Kate’s hand.

  “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  The eyes that met hers were gentle. “I need no thanks, Rebeccah. I owed you my life, remember?”

  “Oh, if we are keeping score, I owed you mine before that.”

  “Well.” Kate shrugged and smiled.

  “Don’t ‘well’ me, Kate. You are the …the truest friend I have ever known.” The light in the carriage was dim, but Rebeccah would have sworn that the other woman was blushing. “You always come to my aid in my hour of need,” she continued. “The Duttons are in your debt and if there is ever anything we can - Oh pish!”

  For the coach had given a lurch and stopped, waking Anne and putting an end to any more conversation of an intimate nature.

  Anne yawned and stretched and looked about her. “Are we home, Beccah?”

  Rebeccah exchanged a rueful glance with Kate. “Yes.”

  Then the handle turned and the carriage door opened, and the coachman was looking up at them, and holding out his hand.

  “My dears!” Mrs Dutton rushed across the hall towards Rebeccah and her sister, arms outstretched. “You are both safe. As the hours passed without news I had begun to fear the worst. … I was never so relieved to see you in all my life!”

  She engulfed Anne in a hug, then held her at arm’s length. What she saw made her frown.

  “We think it is poppy juice.” Rebeccah beckoned to Mary, who had appeared from downstairs to see what all the commotion was.

  “Poppy juice!” Her mother pressed a hand to her throat. “By all that’s … The ruffian!”

  With a glance for permission to Rebeccah, who nodded, Mary took Anne’s hand, talked soothingly to her, and led her away. They started up the stairs to the bedchambers, and Anne’s own maid, Nancy, hurried to help. As Rebeccah watched the three women ascend, it came home to her that her sister was safe. The tension in her neck and shoulders that had been with her since the discovery last night of Anne’s absence eased, and a wave of giddiness swept over her.

  “Breathe slowly and steadily,” came Kate’s voice in her ear, and a firm hand took her elbow. Rebeccah did as she was bid, and her racing heart began to slow. Her vision cleared.

  “Thank you.”

  Kate smiled, released her hold, and took a step back.

  Mrs Dutton’s attention had been all for Anne. Now it switched to Kate, and her eyes widened at the sight of Blue-Eyed Nick without his mask and kerchief standing bold as brass in her hall. She licked her lips, but to Rebeccah’s relief didn’t burst into hysterics, and when she found her voice, sounded almost calm.

  “Will told me you had succeeded in finding the highwayman while I slept.” Though she addressed the remark to her daughter, it was Kate she kept in her sights.

  For all the world as though she is some dangerous beast who might attack at any minute, thought an amused Reb
eccah.

  “Why did you not wake me?”

  “You had been up all night with worry, Mama,” chided Rebeccah. “I thought it best to let you rest.”

  “Well, it is true I was quite worn down by your sister’s disappearance,” conceded Mrs Dutton, “so I will forgive you this once.” To Rebeccah’s astonishment, she made Kate an elaborate curtsey. “If my daughter has not already made it clear (and I hope I have taught her better manners) we are in your debt, Sir. Please let me express my profound gratitude.”

  Kate tipped her hat and said gruffly, “Think nothing of it, Madam.”

  “Indeed I’ll do no such thing,” said Mrs Dutton. She paused, then added, “Would you care to partake of some refreshment with us? A dish of tea, perhaps?” If Rebeccah had been sitting on a stool, the shock of this polite invitation would have toppled her off it.

  Kate’s lips twitched. “That is kind,” she said. “But … another time, perhaps? For I have stayed too long and must take my leave of you.”

  For the past few minutes she had looked increasingly restless, and now the reason for it dawned on Rebeccah - Kate felt too exposed and vulnerable here. And who could blame her? Hadn’t the eldest daughter of this household, the very one she had just rescued from an unwanted marriage, in fact, hired a thieftaker to go after her? The unfairness of it made Rebeccah wince inwardly.

  “As you wish,” said her mother, looking both disappointed and relieved. “Another time, then.”

  Silence fell and everyone looked at everyone else. “Er … The whereabouts of my horse?” prompted Kate.

  Will cleared his throat. “If I may be of assistance?” Mrs Dutton nodded her permission, and the footman stepped forward. “Clover is stabled in the Mews.” He glanced at Rebeccah then back at Kate. “Shall I fetch my spare wig and livery?”

  Rebeccah’s mother looked mystified. “Your wig and livery?”

  Before Rebeccah could enlighten her about the makeshift disguise they had used previously, a loud hammering at the front door pre-empted her.

  “Open up in the name of the Law,” came a man’s muffled shout, between the blows. “We know Blue-Eyed Nick’s in there. Surrender the highwayman or it will go the worse for everyone.”

  Rebeccah turned an appalled glance towards Kate, who bit off a curse and dashed for the stairs leading down to the basement.

  “Faith! What are we to do, Beccah?” Mrs Dutton had gone pale.

  Rebeccah stared at her. “How can you possibly ask that after what has happened, Mama? You must not let them in!”

  “But if we do not … Oh, if only your father were here!” She composed herself and considered her daughter’s suggestion. “But you are right, my dear. It would be poor thanks indeed.” She turned to the butler. “On no account, George, are you to give them admittance.”

  He bowed his head. “Very good, Madam.”

  Rebeccah threw her mother a grateful glance, then hurried after Kate, but no sooner had she started down the narrow steps than she saw Kate hurrying back up.

  “They’ve come in the back way.” Her expression was grim.

  “Oh!” Rebeccah pressed herself against the wall to allow Kate past. The highwaywoman headed for the stairs to the rest of the house, taking the steps two at a time with long, booted legs. With a glance at her mother and a helpless shrug, Rebeccah lifted her skirts and followed, finding Kate on the first landing, examining her surroundings.

  “What do you intend?” panted Rebeccah, as Kate resumed her ascent and she struggled to keep up.

  “If I can escape across the roof to one of the neighbouring houses …”

  “Is that not dangerous?”

  Amused blue eyes turned to regard her. “More dangerous than falling into Josselin’s clutches?”

  “I see what you mean.”

  Shouts from below indicated the intruders were swarming into the hall. Her mother’s voice rose in protest, and Rebeccah’s heart swelled with love for her parent. The hammering at the front door stopped.

  They must have let their colleagues in.

  “I am sorry to involve your family in this.” Kate stopped at the next landing, spotted the door to Rebeccah’s bedchamber, and headed for it. Inside, she crossed to the window and peered down at the square. “Devil take it!” Her shoulders sagged.

  “What is it?” Rebeccah hurried to the other woman’s side and gazed down. The last time they had both stood here looking down seemed an age ago. The square was crawling with unsavoury looking men clutching staves and clubs - Josselin’s bully boys. Residents from some of the other houses had gathered too, curious to see what was going on.

  “See those fellows there?” Kate pointed a gloved finger. Rebeccah did but was none the wiser. “They’re guarding the front and back of the houses adjacent. Even if I make it across the rooftops, it will do me no good.”

  Rebeccah looked at her. “What are you saying?”

  “That this time Josselin has got me. Fair and square.”

  “But you have your pistol. Can you not shoot your way out?”

  “And risk some innocent getting caught in the crossfire?” Kate shook her head.

  A suddenly shaky Rebeccah crossed to her bed and sat on the edge of it. “This cannot be happening!” She rubbed her eyes with the heel of one hand and pursued a thought that had been nagging at her. “How did Josselin know you were here?”

  “Titus.” The bed sagged as Kate sat next to her. “He must have deduced I would bring your sister back here, and run straight to the thieftaker.”

  “And I told you to let him go.” Rebeccah stared at her in horror. “This is my fault.”

  The blue eyes were gentle. “No, my dear. I should have hit him harder.”

  “But if I hadn’t asked you to help me find Anne -“

  “Then your sister would be in dire straits indeed. I am glad you came to me, Rebeccah. Glad that I was caught in the act of being a Good Samaritan rather than a thief.”

  The resignation in her tone struck Rebeccah like a blow. “You talk as if it is all over,” she accused. “As if he has already caught you.”

  Kate arched an eyebrow. “He has as good as.”

  “No.” Rebeccah surged to her feet. “Use me as your shield, Kate, the way Titus used my sister. Threaten to shoot me if they do not allow you free passage.”

  “And risk your life?” The other woman shook her head. “Never. Besides …” She gave a wry smile. “No one could possibly believe I would harm you. But I thank you for your generous offer, Rebeccah. Indeed I do.”

  Rebeccah stared at Kate in growing despair. “If you will not use me, then one of the servants, perhaps. I’m sure Will -“

  The highwaywoman stood up. “Stop this, Rebeccah.” She rested her hands on Rebeccah’s shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Think! Do you suppose Josselin cares whether anyone in this household gets hurt? All that matters to him is the reward he’ll get for catching me.”

  “But -“

  “Your wish to save me warms my heart, but you must face it, my dear. He has me boxed.”

  “No!” Rebeccah threw herself at Kate, pressing her face into her shoulder and beginning to sob. After a moment, Kate’s arms came round her and held her close.

  “There, there,” soothed Kate, her breath warm against Rebeccah’s ear. “It was always on the cards that it would end this way. At heart I knew it, and so must you have. But I am glad it did not come before I had made your acquaintance. Very glad.”

  Kate’s shirt and coat were now quite damp. Rebeccah pulled back and looked up at the other woman, her vision blurry. “There must be something we can do.”

  “Ask for a free pardon from the Queen herself perhaps?” joked Kate. She wiped away Rebeccah’s tears with a finger. “Tsk! Your pretty eyes are quite red with weeping.”

  For several minutes the sound of men’s voices and booted feet clumping up the stairs had been growing louder, now came sounds of movement outside the room as they plucked up their courage. The two wo
men exchanged a glance.

  “They must have got past Mama,” murmured Rebeccah.

  “Ay.” Kate pulled out her pistol and handed it to Rebeccah. Then she took off her baldric and sword. “Take these, so there can be no misunderstanding.”

  They were heavier than she expected and she almost dropped them. After a moment, she discarded them on the bed.

  “Kate!” She whispered, barely able to get the words out round the lump in her throat. “Please don’t do this.”

  “Hush. Be brave now. It’s almost over.” Kate took another step away from her. “You can come in now, gentlemen,” she called. “I am unarmed and willing to surrender.”

  A man peered round the doorway, his face ruddy, his wig askew. His gaze skipped over Rebeccah, and settled on the tall figure of the highwaywoman. Kate held her hands clear of her body so it was obvious that she was unarmed.

  “Looks all right,” said the ruddy-faced man to someone out of sight. “Come on.” And with a rush, the room filled with his companions who pushed Rebeccah aside and surrounded Kate in a circle that kept them just out of arm’s reach.

  On the surface Kate appeared calm, almost somnolent, but Rebeccah could see the wariness as she eyed the rank-smelling thugs surrounding her, some smacking clubs into meaty palms. Should they choose to beat her to a pulp, there would be little she could do.

  “Do not hurt her, she is unarmed,” blurted Rebeccah. “Her weapons are over there.” She pointed to the bed.

  “We’ll not hurt her more than she deserves,” came a deep voice, then a man she hadn’t seen before entered the bedchamber.

  Elegant clothing couldn’t disguise the brute beneath. Something about the new arrival’s solidity, the pugnacious set of his jaw and broad shoulders perhaps, put Rebeccah in mind of a bull terrier.

  “Josselin.” Kate’s eyes sparked with hatred. But her obvious dislike seemed only to amuse the thieftaker.

  Something clinked, and Rebeccah saw that Josselin was holding a pair of shackles. He handed them to one of his men. “Put those on her.”

  The man took them and edged forward, clearly reluctant to leave the protection of his fellows. His eyes were fixed on Kate’s face, and she arched an eyebrow at him, then smiled mockingly and held out her hands. He grunted, checking as though for a trap, then slipped the shackles over her wrists and began to fasten them.