Jack scoffed and ignored his conciliatory tone. “I wouldn’t sully my eyes on your sister and certainly not any other part of my anatomy."
Although initially appearing unsettled, Alfred Smith had rehearsed his scheme well and appeared calm as he said, “We should discuss this away from these good folk out for a quiet drink.” He cast his hand around to encompass the now jeering crowd before continuing, “Come now, just the two of us, in my carriage over there.”
“Call that a carriage? Donkey cart would be a generous description.” Jack, with one hand on the reins steering his horse and the other waving his sword, appeared to grasp he looked like the aggressor. Right now he had no money to bribe these witnesses to say otherwise. He sheathed the sword, dismounted, and beckoned Alfred to follow him. Alfred did, willingly. They turned a corner and Alexandra could see them no longer. She did, however, see two of the gang start driving the dilapidated carriage after them with the rest following furtively on foot.
An unruly mob had gathered outside the tap room, hoping for some entertainment, and it wasn’t until they returned disappointed to their ale-sodden tables inside that she risked dashing to Holly.
The carriage trundled along slowly through the dark street leading out of town, allowing the dozen men recruited by the aggrieved Alfred to follow on foot or, in the case of three of them, on donkeys. Jack’s horse was tied to the back of the carriage so Alexandra assumed that Jack had somehow been bundled inside for she couldn’t imagine him willingly travelling within. The carriage neared Billy’s more respectable tavern, with its benches ranged along the outside walls for the summer evenings; it increased in speed sufficiently to separate from those straggling behind. Alexandra supposed this was part of a careful plan not to draw attention to the ominous looking band of ruffians. She had to make a wider arc, uphill, to get around those being left behind in order to follow the carriage – now well out of sight.
A growing rumbling stopped her course. She turned cautiously and concealed herself behind a clump of trees. Astonished, she leaned forwards on Holly to confirm her view. Billy had orchestrated the encircling of the stragglers by his band of wheel-boarding invalid ex-soldiers. As Alfred’s men tried in vain to leave the corral, the wheel-boarders paddled around them, prodding them with batons and moving them into a smaller ring. There was no doubt that once the gang overcame the element of surprise, they might have pushed violently past, but it would have availed them nothing. An outer ring, comprising the taverns regular patrons, had formed and herded the gang into an alleyway where they were tied up and laced together in a circle, each one facing outwards. Their pockets were emptied.
“Reckon we deserve a tankard or two for keeping you out of the courts, for that is surely where you’d have ended up without our kind and expert intervention,” said Billy with a satisfied grin. He clinked the coins he’d collected and tapped the non-existent stripes on his arm. “Think you can outwit a Sergeant and the troops of the King’s Army? Huh!”
Alexandra looked on amazed and amused. Well, good for Sergeant Sidebottome. As the victors celebrated, tankards raised, Alexandra dug her heel into Holly’s flanks and hurried down onto the deserted road. She had some catching up to do.
A patchy mist both hindered and helped her track the carriage unnoticed. She ventured a canter and, within a few minutes, rickety wheels could be heard. She steered Holly on to a path running almost parallel but shielded by an increasing number of trees and undergrowth. They were leading him into a wood, just as they had suggested in the King’s Arms. She’d calculated that at most there were only six men; three were on donkeys and were now leading the carriage off the road and into the woods. Maybe there’d be three inside the carriage with Jack. How would she deal with six men? Should she just monitor what was happening? Being able to report back to Adam or a magistrate would be more useful than ending up in a ditch. A picture flashed through her mind. A picture of Adam enduring listening to his father attempting to rein in Jack and the truths that had come out. Somehow she must make amends for believing the worst of Adam. How could she have done that?
When she heard the carriage halt some fifty or more yards ahead of her, Alexandra dismounted and hitched Holly to a tree. Holly nuzzled her and was reassured by a gentle rubbing of her neck. “Hush now,” Alexandra whispered. “Wait for me – I may need you soon.” She tucked her riding whip into the saddle straps. She inched forward, careful of anything that might crackle. The moon did not penetrate the tree canopy and the swirling mist seemed thicker as the night went on. As she drew closer, the muffled voices became more distinct and three wraith-like figures gathered around the door of the carriage as three more jumped out. Alfred the Great could be recognized by his controlling manner.
“Mind out! Leave him to me.” Alfred reached in and pulled Jack’s body from the floor by his hands and dragged him over his shoulder. Staggering to the nearest tree he dumped Jack and began slapping him round the face. “That’s it, damn you! You sit there, till you come round. And this will help you.” Alfred took great pleasure in kicking Jack’s side. Jack groaned.
“Wants annuver one, don’ ’e.”
Alfred Smith obliged his mate.
“Now you’ve got some explaining to do, Mr High-and-Mighty.”
Jack groaned again and slowly came to his senses. He shifted himself a little.
Alfred slapped his face hard.
“Got any teef ’e don wan’ an I’ll ’ave ’em,” said another of the gang roaring with laughter and indicating his own depleted set.
“Shut it!” commanded Alfred.
Alexandra crept closer. She should have brought the whip.
“D’yer ’ear anyfing?” the nigh-on toothless gang member said, his eyes wide with sudden fear.
All six of them stared around, turning in circles.
“Came from over there,” said one of them with a hint of scorn and pointing deeper into the wood.
“There’s always noises in woods, ’specially at night,” said Alfred bending down and pulling Jack up to his feet. “Now let’s deal with this two-faced cavalier.” Jack had said not a word, not that Alexandra could hear anyway, but Alfred smacked his face again. “Every time I’ve beaten you, fair and square like, what’s happened? Someone’s robbed me! Robbed me before I’ve even had time to spend it. And it ain’t going to happen again.”
“Robbed you?” Jack took notice and looked directly at Alfred. “Who robbed you? Not me!”
“Nah, nah, don’t spit your lies at me. You think I don’t know, but I do. Look at your boots!” he ordered. “Black, just like the robber on the road from Merrygate and just the same as all the other times.”
Alexandra looked down at her own boots. She’d had some made like Adam’s. Black leather with a brown band around the top. Were there any boots so unusual as to be identifiably Jack’s? She looked at the boots of the gang members – no comparisons could be made with those!
“Why do you think the highwayman has never been caught? Not ’cos he’s clever. It’s because he’s friends with all the other High-and-Mighties. Right?” He slapped Jack to encourage the right answer.
Jack rubbed his cheek then leant back against the stout tree trunk and said, “I’ve had no dealings with the fellow.” He looked straight at Alfred Smith then glanced at the others. “And,” he retorted, “there’s more than one, or so I hear.”
“I’ve had enough of your lies – let’s get down to it. My sister’s been poisoned.”
Alexandra clasped her hand over her mouth as she gasped. There’d been no mention of poison.
Jack, regardless of his precarious circumstances, smirked and was duly punished by a kick in the shin.
Nigh-on-toothless grew impatient. “Listen to ’im. Next thing ’e’ll say is ‘not mine guv’.”
“I’ve told you,” Jack said with a measure of desperation this time, “I’ve never laid a hand on her. If she’s swelling up, it’s nothing to do with me.”
“Well,” said Alfred g
rasping Jack’s chin, “you’ve got a choice. Marry her, then it’ll be yours, or pay up for her to get married. And…” he said bellowing into Jack’s face, “pay back all you’ve taken off me. Two thousand guineas.”
“Two thousand guineas is pure rot! And I’ve not swollen her belly.” Jack could hold back no longer as he bellowed into Alfred’s face, “You’re the one who’s cheated me, you lily-livered…” He didn’t have a chance to finish.
Two of them bent his arms back around the trunk and Alfred thumped him in the stomach, screaming, “You’ll pay up or you’ll not see the light of another day.”
Alexandra could see the time for talking had come to an end – Jack hadn’t any money, or even a promise to offer, and he didn’t seem disposed to marry Alfred’s ‘poisoned’ sister. The time for holding back had ended too. She ached to strike out at these dreadful ruffians. But what could she do? Eyes reconnoitring, she decided she could circle around and try to take them out one by one. She’d have the element of surprise in her favour initially and perhaps Jack would do something to help. She drew close to the ruffian standing on guard furthest away and kicked him on the back of his knee. He stumbled forwards; she grabbed his long, greasy hair and shoved his face to the ground. And as surely as if she’d heard the words, ‘finish him off’, she knew she must do more. She stamped on the back of his leg, and roared loudly with the effort. Another approached with his fists held high. He tried to lay a punch on her, which she parried, then dodged his second. Grabbing his arm she turned and flung him over her shoulder. He landed on the other man who was groaning and attempting to crawl away on his elbows. “Ya!” ‘Finish him off!’ There it was again, just as if someone had trained her. She yanked the man’s arm behind his back in such an awkward fashion that she heard a crack. She did not add a yell but he did. She was managing far better than expected but now Alfred Smith and the biggest of his cronies were cautiously approaching. She could run, but then what would she have achieved? A quick glance confirmed her fears that Jack wasn’t troubling himself to struggle free. Whatever made her think he was worth saving?
At last Jack rallied, or so it seemed for a brief moment. An opportunity had presented itself and he wasn’t one to miss out. Pointing directly at her he yelled, “That’s the man who’s robbed you. That’s the highwayman. He’s the one you want!” What chance had she? Could she repeat that surprisingly satisfying experience of throwing a man over her shoulder? A fleeting assessment of the situation showed her that one against four was not good odds and now Jack might even be against her. She turned to look for an escape but one of the men behind her was now standing and the gang began encircling her and closing in.
“Stop right there!” A commanding voice sliced through her thoughts. “Move and I’ll shoot.”
Alfred Smith’s face was the epitome of stunned and, like an actor running through his repertoire of ‘horrified expressions’, it finally faded to dumbfounded.
A man dressed from head to toe in black emerged from behind some scrubby bushes. A whip crackled through the air. Had she now to confront yet another villain? Whoever he was, he was better prepared to take on this bunch of brutes for, as well as the whip, and the pistol in his right hand, there was a sheathed sword at his side. He used the pistol to indicate they were all to line up opposite Jack. All except Alexandra. He threw the thin, long rope that had been hanging from his belt, and motioned for her to tie the gang around the trunk of an oak. Alexandra had as much interest in making sure these men were unable to escape as did Jack and this outlaw, so she looped the rope around each man's neck then tightly wrapped the rope around the tree. She escorted the one whose arm she’d broken to the tree, apologized profusely for causing his pain, then tied him up too with the dangling rope ends.
The highwayman indicated she should go. She certainly would not! He might have a gun, a whip and a sword, but there was only one villain to deal with now. And that villain had her ring caught up in the black cravat around his neck. He cracked his whip and the tip wrapped around her ankle. Lightning reflexes kicked in as she stamped on the whip with her other foot. The villain pulled the whip with such force that she fell on her backside and the whip cracked again, this time close to her hand. She knew better than to attempt to grab it. Except for his first command, he had said not a word.
Alexandra stood and reluctantly backed away; he’d come better equipped. She needn’t go far; in this mist she could hide easily. As helpful as the mist was for hiding her amongst the nearby coppiced trees, it also obscured her view. As it rolled across the scene and cleared momentarily, she could see Jack being marched at sword point towards the road. Alexandra began to worry a little about Holly though the bigger worry was what might be happening to Jack. This man was, she was sure, the same one who held up the coach she had travelled in. Even without the ring around his neck, she would recognize him anywhere by his style. That powerful silence, that exactitude, those eyes. The very same. The muscles in her stomach tightened and she felt a tingling reach to the tips of her fingers.
She consciously blinked – she’d been transfixed. She must not forget her mission. She followed the two men to Alfred Smith’s coach. The outlaw was throwing a sheathed sword to Jack. As he did so, he spoke and she heard the voice of the highwayman.
Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
From the way Jack caught the scabbard, released the sword (which Alexandra now identified as a rapier), and brandished it, she knew it was his own.
“You will marry Miss Charlotte Carpenter as soon as can be arranged respectably.”
Alexandra recognized the voice instantly.
“And why would I want to do that?” retorted Jack.
“Because I shall present you to your released creditors if you do not and then you'll have to marry Smith's sister. The choice is yours."
Jack scoffed and pointed the tip of his rapier at the highwayman. “I should have known you couldn’t keep your nose out of my business.”
Alexandra was in no doubt at all now. Jack had the tip levelled at his brother. Her stomach lurched. She must help. Against swords?
Adam threw down his whip and drew his rapier. “You will marry her.”
“Never! She’s good, I’ll grant you that; I wouldn’t mind a bit of that on cold nights but I don’t need to wed her.”
Adam slashed the rapier across Jack’s, removing the tip from its menacing position near his throat. It was clear the two brothers were about to fight.
“You do, and you will. Now do you agree or shall I force you?”
Alexandra froze behind a tree as Jack looked over his shoulder. He didn’t look keen to fight but neither would he give in to Adam’s demand. “You can’t fight me, Adam – I’m your own blood.”
“And, like a vampire, you have sucked the blood of your family.”
Alexandra wondered if it was possible to move in closer. She could hear them clearly but the mist was becoming thicker, rolling in and settling, concealing the brothers as a cloud hides the sun. The sound of swishing rapiers, sizzling like hot branding irons, confirmed her worst fears. She drew closer but to no avail. The fight had shifted behind the carriage. She could dash to its cover, but suppose she distracted Adam? She moved in as close as she dared and crouched to watch beneath the coach. Too dark to discern whose feet were whose, she crept to the door of the carriage and picked up the whip Adam had flung down. If nothing else she could prevent it being used by Jack. She checked the feet again. Unfortunately, they were heading around the back of the coach – where Jack’s tethered horse was becoming skittish. She could release him and lead him away. That would be a precaution worth the risk.
Before she could do so, Jack was defeated by his opponent. She knew it was Jack from the squawking and pleading. “I’ll marry her. I’ll marry the harridan. There’s one condition though.”
“There’s no conditions, Jack. Not of your making anyway. You will move to her house now that Charlotte has to fulfil the
role vacated by Lady Carpenter. If Charlotte is with child, Sir Charles will not object – I shall attend to that.”
“Certainly it’s a great house, but it won’t be mine until her father dies. I’ll marry her on the condition that the house is passed to me within…”
“It won’t ever be yours. I shall see to that too.”
Alexandra eased her way to a vantage point where she could see the back of Adam standing over the prostate Jack, sword-tip to his throat.
“One is dealt a hand, then it’s a question of how the game is played. One can have all the Aces and still lose. And Jack, having thrown away your own hand, you began cheating Catherine and myself of ours. Therefore,” said Adam, “you will lose your inheritance rights to “Foxhills”. You need repay none of your debts to the estate or to Father but you may never set foot on our land again.”
“And how are you going to enforce your…” Jack hesitated before he spat out, “conditions? Kill me?”
“I stand over you now to ensure you understand. I am not foolish enough to think you will not need some encouragement to fulfil these conditions.”
“And this encouragement?” Contempt was not disguised.
“It takes the form of my promise. I promise that if you leave Charlotte, I will track you down, even if it be across the seas, and I will return you, dead or alive, to your wife.”
There was silence. Dead or alive! Did Jack know he was beaten? Or was this another time when he would say one thing and do the opposite?
“A son of yours will inherit on his majority. You will need to be a good father, Jack, or he might turn you out.”
“You know what she’s like, don’t you? You know. You are condemning me to a life sentence.”
“Your alternative is to marry Smith’s sister.” There was silence. Clearly Jack had no inclination to take that course. “Your life will begin to flourish if you turn your hand to the matters of the Carpenter estate. It is nearly twice the size of “Foxhills” and it’s time you settled to the business of raising a family. Then there’s riding, shooting a few pheasants, keeping livestock – often as chancy as gambling.”
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