The Captain's Daughter

by Minnie Simpson

  She walked faster, and with great relief she saw that a sliver of the street where the coach was could now be seen, although the coach itself was not yet in sight. As she hurried towards the traffic filled street and to safety, now just a few feet away, she was suddenly grabbed roughly and slammed into a doorway.

  Rough arms gagged her and put a sack over her head. In panic, she struggled with her assailant. While they held her arms pinned at her sides, other hands began to tie her feet. Suddenly they stopped, and she was first jostled and then dropped violently onto the hard cobbles. She heard yelling and then footsteps running away. The bag over her head was pulled off. Ben was looking down at her. He helped her up, and took off the gag and then the ropes from her feet.

  “Are you all right, Amy?” The depth of concern in his voice was palpable.

  As an almost involuntary reaction she put her head on his shoulder and wept, shaking as the tears flowed down her cheek. He gently put his arm around her.

  Sitting in a nearby coffee shop, Amy, Leo, and Ben sipped the warm comforting liquid as Ben explained that as soon as he was able to get out of his dressing gown and slip on some clothes he followed her because of the danger she faced without an escort in such a part of the city.

  Leo told how worried he was when he saw the three men enter the street after her and thought they seemed to be following her. He hurried to the street but encountered the three men returning. They stopped and stood talking and she was nowhere to be seen. It was clear now that they were following her but had lost her.

  Leo who knew nothing of all that had passed in the last few weeks, naturally assumed that the attack was random. Three ruffians who spotted a poor girl by herself and wanted to take advantage of her. Amy and Ben knew otherwise.

  She had something she needed to tell Ben, so she waited until Leo was in the coach and she was saying her goodbyes to Ben as he readied to return to his dilapidated current abode.

  “Ben, I saw these same three men this noon on the street by the Ramsey’s house.”

  “I recognized these men,” said Ben, “at least, one of them. The left side of his face is badly disfigured. They are the same men who tried to rob the coach.”

  “One of the men I saw on the Ramsey’s street had his face obscured by his cap and his collar. When I followed the little clerk who was taking my letter to you, one of the three men had his face covered. I am sure they were the same three men. What does it mean Ben? Why would the men who attacked the coach target me?”

  A chill ran down her spine at the thought she was being targeted. She noticed that Leo was impatiently looking out of the window of the coach, probably puzzled why she was taking so long to tell Ben adieu.

  “There must be some link, Amy, but I am absolutely mystified as to what it could be.”

  “Remember the warning in the unfinished letter?”

  That cannot be it. The mystery of your origins, if there is any mystery, cannot be connected with an organization trying to kill French noblemen who have escaped the Reign of Terror. There must be a simpler answer. They know we are friends, so I think they are trying to get at me by attacking you. They likely wanted to lure me out of hiding. We thwarted them this time. We must make sure they do not have a second chance. You must be given protection.”

  “Protection from what?”

  Leo had approached without them noticing, and was puzzled by what he had heard.

  “I will have to trust you Leo, not to betray a confidence. We believe that Amy was targeted for kidnapping.”

  “Why?” Leo was even more puzzled.

  “I am in hiding because I am engaged in opposing murderous agents of the Comité de salut public, The Committee of Public Safety. They have discovered that Amy and I are friends, and I believe they want to use her to force me out of hiding. I have to make urgent arrangements to have her guarded. Please watch her until I can make the necessary contacts.”

  “We are returning to Stokely-on-Arne tomorrow. I will be safe once I am home,” said Amy.

  “It is the very opposite Amy. There is a measure of safety in the city. In the country you are isolated and alone. I am not trying to scare you, but you need to be guarded and protected.”

  “If I may interrupt, said Leo, “I and my friends could guard Lady Amy.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Leo, but these are real evil men. You have the best of intentions, but you are no match for these men.”

  “I know I don’t look it, but at Cambridge I was in—please tell no one what I am telling you, because I am betraying a confidence, only because of the urgency of the Amy’s situation—a society that I must not name. We performed certain services for His Majesty’s government. I also cannot say what they were. We were well trained in ordnance, firearms, and fisticuffs, and in certain other arts of defense and offense. I can get a hold of my friend and fellow member of the society, Pigsly Comyn, within the hour and I will apprise some of the others by tomorrow.”

  Ben was faced by one of those snap decisions that life tosses at you. Leo’s story sounded almost exotic, but Ben realized his own story would likely seem just as outrageous. He had to go by personal impressions of Leo, and such impressions can be deceptive. He decided he had little choice.

  “Can you go to Stokely-on-Arne with Amy?”

  “That is no problem for me.”

  “What about your studies?” Amy was concerned.

  Leo laughed. “That will not be a problem either.”

  “How will I explain it to Mother?”

  “Simple,” smiled Leo. “You stayed with me for several days. What is unusual about me desiring to stay a few days in the country? You will have to be a little discreet in how you bring it up to your mother, that’s all.”

  “I can do that,” said Amy.

  “There is one thing that concerns me,” said Ben to Leo. “Since the criminals seem to be watching Amy, it would be best if they didn’t know that you are accompanying her and her family to their home.”

  “They won’t,” said Leo. “I don’t have a coach, but Pigsly does. To get to Cambridge, we have to pass through Stokely-on-Arne, except this time we will go no farther. Even if someone were following us, which I am sure will not be the case, they wouldn’t know where we disappeared. And being so near Cambridge, I can call on reinforcements very quickly. A number of my friends would be game for this lark.”

  “It is no lark. This is deadly serious,” said Ben.

  “Perhaps I didn’t use the best of words. They will consider this an adventure, and trust me, we have faced worse than deadly serious on a number of occasions.”

  Leo looked on with a grin.

  “I much appreciate what you are doing, Leo, but may I have a word with Amy alone?”

  “Most certainly,” assured Leo, a trifle embarrassed.

  While Leo hurried back to the coach, Ben purposely turned his back so he would block Leo’s view of Amy.

  “What is it you want to tell me?” asked Amy.

  “This,” said Ben, and kissed her passionately.

  Chapter 32

  The next morning, immediately after breakfast they set off for home. For the sake of anyone that might be watching, they had arranged for Pigsly’s coach to wait on the busy thoroughfare. In actuality it was only a few hundred feet from the Ramsey’s townhouse, so Amy was safe. A good scream would bring them apace.

  Amy had not seen Pigsly’s coach, but the description made her wince. She was told it would be quite obvious when they entered the thoroughfare. It was painted green with yellow daffodils as decoration. When they left the Ramsey’s street she was keenly watching for it. She needn’t have strained her eyes. A blind man could have spotted Leo’s friend’s coach. It was worse than she imagined.

  As they wended their way through the crowded carts, coaches, and wheeled vehicles of all descriptions, a bright green coach with bright yellow daffodils followed them. Little chance that the villains would not immediately notice it. Of course, they would not know the signifi
cance of it, and it would be only one of myriads of vehicles—that is, while they were in the city.

  As they headed out of the city on the road than ran north to Stokely-on-Arne, it would be obvious that it was headed the same way as the Sibbridge coach, but even that was nothing to worry about. Many vehicles were headed in both directions. It followed them at a respectful distance.

  Old Eben the coachman, had been told that Piglsy’s coach was following them for protection because of all the recent incidents with highwaymen. This seemed reasonable to him, so he didn’t ask any more questions. He was given a loaded pistol, and was told to fire it in an emergency.

  Amy’s mother was oblivious to all that was going on. She knew, of course, that Leo and Pigsly were following them in Pigsly’s coach, but she did not know the true reason why. As would be expected, they had not told her of the kidnapping attempt, or anything else that might trouble her. All seemed quite normal to her. Amy could not imagine how her mother would react if she only knew what was really going on.

  “I asked Leo why his friend is called Pigsly,” Mattie suddenly broke in, to Amy’s surprise, since Mattie had been dozing.

  “Doesn’t he get angry at people calling him that?”

  “Leo said that only his friends call him that. It’s a sign of affection. But he wouldn’t tell me why they gave him that nickname.”

  “Don’t mistake me,” said Amy, “I don’t mean anything unkind, but Pigsly does remind me just a little of a pig. He isn’t fat, but he is a little overweight. However, it is not his weight, but somehow his face. The way it is rounded, I think that’s it, and his little moustache.”

  “Few porkers have moustaches,” Emma broke in, “in fact, I don’t think I have ever seen a mustachioed pig.”

  “I thought you were all sleeping,” said Amy.

  “How could anyone sleep with you having silly conversations?” complained Emma.

  “We’re not having a silly conversation,” replied Amy. “We were having a serious discourse on Leo’s friend and a reasonable curiosity about his feelings, since no one wants to displease the one who is guard...”

  She caught herself before she said something her mother didn’t need to hear. Fortunately, her mother had not noticed.

  They grew silent, and the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves and the swaying of the coach and the warm day soon lulled her sisters back to their drowsy napping. Amy was not immune to the enticements to sleep, but she could not. Too many worries and concerns plagued her, and new worries seemed to arise out of nowhere.

  The journey home seemed long and boring that morning. She was uncomfortable and her throat was dry. Troublesome thoughts took advantage of her discomfort and kept prodding her. Three men had attacked her and tried to kidnap her, and would have accomplished their goal except for Ben’s intervention. They had been watching the house where she was staying while in London. Why?

  Ben thought the men targeted her, and she agreed with that, but is it possible that it really was just random. She could not be sure they had even seen her or paid attention when she got into the coach at the Ramsey’s house. They were not in front of the Ramsey’s but nearer the main thoroughfare. Perhaps, their next job after whatever they were doing to the Ramsey’s street was where she next encountered them. Perhaps the attack was just a crime of advantage, and not planned. Gagging her and putting a sack over her head might just have been to get her away from where people might hear her screams and come running, to a place where the local denizens didn’t care about a screaming girl. She shuddered again at the thought. Although she realized that Ben’s theory seemed to have more merit.

  But there was another thought that came to the fore. It was always somewhere in the back of her mind. It caused her to be angry with herself, and she tried vigorously to suppress it, but it periodically made its way into her consciousness. Could she trust Ben? Ben was kind and gentle and endlessly helpful, but was she being fooled? Was he putting on an act, for some reason only known to himself? How can I even think such things she screamed silently to herself?

  But there was a faint worry that began to bother her. She hadn’t even thought about it at first. But if they were hardened criminals who were accustomed to fighting, why did they run off? Ben did not appear to be armed, yet they left almost immediately. At first, this morning as she turned these thoughts over in her mind it seemed to be only a fortunate turn of events, but it began to make her more and more curious. Why did they not fight? Was it too near to the busy street?

  She could not suppress these questions, and others from the past. The mysterious occurrences at Hillside House. Ben’s disguises. Perhaps her worries were stimulated by her residual annoyance at Ben, because she was still not convinced by his reasons for seemingly ignoring her letters. And if her attackers were targeting her, how did they know where she was staying? To her knowledge, outside of the Ramseys and Ben, who would know where she would be living while in London? Maybe some at the ball might know, but these were all the cream of society such as Lord Eskman and some of the young men that had been eyeing her, and she supposed some others, but they would hardly be consorting with some evil people from long ago. The idea was ludicrous. But Ben had strange and shadowy acquaintances. But that was ridiculous. Ben had rescued her. She soon felt ashamed at even letting such a thought cross her mind. And so they shrunk into the recesses of the less than conscious parts of her mind, where they could hide until they next attacked.

  That night, filled with all her worries and questions, Amy found it difficult to quiet her troubled mind. Sleep only came by fits and starts.

  On Friday morning, Emma, who was now able to get around without help shocked Amy at breakfast by suggesting they take her telescope and go to the hill crest.

  “Leo and Pigsly will be there to see we are safe,” she observed.

  “They might not want to go there,” objected Amy.

  “I very much doubt,” replied Emma, “that they would rather be stuck here with two old people, rather than up on the hill spying on everyone in four shires.”

  “I doubt you can even see much of one shire from our perch.”

  Since Mattie did not wish to go, and also did not wish to part with Leo, the final arrangement was that Leo would remain at the house while Pigsly would go with them. How Leo felt about his decision, he never revealed, but while Pigsly spent much of the afternoon with Amy and Emma on the remains of the ancient Roman camp atop Camp Hill, Leo spent the same time holding skeins of yarn for Mattie and her mother. But maybe he did get more pleasure from Mattie’s company than he would have from the company of the others. The depths of the human soul are hard to uncover.

  To Amy, Pigsly seemed like an overgrown child. She had no doubt, based upon what Leo had told them in confidence, a confidence she felt the deepest of obligation to fully and completely respect, that Pigsly must be a far different person in other places and other circumstances, but here he was definitely a man-child. He seemed to have an almost naive interest in such things as Emma’s telescope and well-nigh everything else.

  He was actually fun to have along in a mildly amusing way. Amy wondered if he had ever been to the country before. He must have, and yet he acted as if everything was new and a wonder to behold. When he wandered off, although not too far, this gave Amy and Emma time to talk. Amy used the time to turn over many of her thoughts and vent her worries. As far as any concerns about Ben, she touched on them only very obliquely. Although Emma was very perceptive she did not indicate that she got the point, although that might just be discretion.

  Getting out of bed on Monday morning was a difficult experience. Amy had slept poorly, at best, since they had returned from London, but she didn’t want anyone to know, so she put on a bright and cheerful front, although inside she craved a good long sleep.

  About lunchtime Monday , the Ramseys turned up. Since Saturday they had been staying at Brewminster Hall. They were now preparing to return home. Once again, Lady Ramsey was upset and worried, b
ecause just as they were leaving to come to Stockly-on-Arne on Saturday, they were told that a Frenchman escaping the Reign-of-Terror was murdered on the road from Dover to London by highwaymen. One of the bandits was shot and believed to be severely wounded, but he got away with his fellow cutthroats.

  “First robberies and now killings,” she fretted, “when will it end?”

  Sir Frank comforted her, and gave her a little hug.

  “Don’t be upset, dear. You’ll be quite safe.”

  “Did you find out if the pendant belonged to Esther Belmont? “asked Amy.

  “Yes it did, and she was deeply grateful to see it again. I reported the matter to the local authorities, and they carefully scoured the old mill and its vicinity but could find nothing else. However, they hope it might eventually lead to the men who are guilty of these horrible and bloody crimes. They are puzzled as to why their search yielded nothing. It has been speculated that the thieves might have hidden in the old mill, perhaps seeking shelter from foul weather.”

  “So you think they were on their way to the real hiding place?” asked Amy.

  “That would seem like a logical assumption,” said Sir Frank.

  “But there are only two groups of buildings this side of the river, our property and that of Sir Benjamin, and I know they are not using our house or buildings. If anyone came on our property, our hounds would make a great fuss. That would leave Sir Anthony’s property...”

  “Not at all,” interrupted Sir Frank, “thieves often secrete stolen property in wild places where no one would think of looking. It could be in a hollow tree or a small cave, or almost anywhere.”

  The Ramseys remained for lunch. Amy had made up her mind, and she took advantage of their presence to lobby hard and strong to go to London. She wanted to be near to Ben, so she could try and resolve the questions and worries she had about him. Her mental and emotional turbulence would be impossible to explain to her mother or anyone else for that matter. In fact, she couldn’t even explain it to herself. If her mother would not consent to her going there, she felt like running away from home, and that would be sheer madness.