She had been waiting for a few minutes in the darkness, and had just convinced herself that no one had noticed her after all, when a man grabbed her around the chest and put his hand to her mouth.
Never in her life had Emily felt such fear. She had not heard or seen anyone coming, and in the shock of finding herself clasped against a man’s chest, she instinctively yelled out, although with her mouth covered, it came out as no more than a whimper.
“Hush,” said a harsh voice at her ear. She barely heard him, as by this time she began to fear she would suffocate, and had begun thrashing around, attempting to break his grip. “If I let you go, will you promise not to scream?” These words Emily did hear, and she nodded. The man released her mouth, but, with his hand now free, tied something about her wrists.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“I cannot risk you flying away on me, can I, my pretty ladybird?” he said, his breath hot on her neck.
Once she was capable of thinking, her first thought was that perhaps Alexander had crept up on her, and it was he who had her in his grip. However, that hope was now dispelled. Even though she could not see the man, she knew this was not Alexander or Marcus. However, they were in the woods somewhere nearby, and if she screamed loudly enough, perhaps they would come to her rescue. So, contrary to her promise, she opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could.
“Why you little—” she heard her assailant say, before everything went black.
Chapter Eleven
Alexander and Marcus heard Emily scream, but Marcus restrained Alexander from going to her rescue.
“Wait,” Marcus said, grabbing Alexander by the arm as he pushed past him. “If we go thrashing through the woods, he’ll be sure to hear us. If he does not know we are here, he will come out onto the road, and we can follow him.”
“But that sounded like Emily.”
“Perhaps it is Emily. She may have followed us from Smithfield House. However, we are liable to do more harm than good if we go off half-cocked.”
Alexander, although he saw the wisdom of this, found it very frustrating to sit and do nothing while Emily was in the hands of some brute. Although it seemed a lifetime to Alexander, it was only a few moments later when a figure appeared on the road, leading a horse with a bulky object thrown over the saddle. As the highwayman could only proceed at a walk, Alexander and Marcus left their horses tethered to a tree and followed on foot.
The man led them on back roads to an abandoned building, which had been used at one time for textile manufacturing. He tied his horse in the back and, hefting Emily over his shoulder, entered the building.
Alexander and Marcus followed the highwayman through the door and into the building. The interior was in darkness, and they stopped just inside the door, listening for sounds of movement. After a few moments, they heard some slight sounds, followed by the highwayman asking was his little ladybird finally awake, before lighting a rushlight.
Alexander and Marcus walked stealthily toward the light, but, not as familiar with the place as the highwayman, Alexander bumped into an old loom, which fell over with a clatter and alerted the highwayman to their approach.
The highwayman quickly extinguished the light, but Alexander and Marcus rushed in that direction, oblivious to any bumps and bruises they sustained in the process. They felt around in the darkness, finally finding the flint and tinder, but, after striking it, they were amazed to find the highwayman and Emily were nowhere to be found.
“What happened to them?” Alexander asked in bewilderment.
Marcus said nothing, looking around them. “It looks like he’s been sleeping here,” he told Alexander, pointing to a makeshift cot. “However, it looks like nothing more than a pied-à-terre. He’s definitely hiding the booty somewhere else.” He raised the rushlight, but they saw nothing more than a pile of blankets and some empty bottles.
Alexander, who could not understand how a man and woman could so completely disappear, ran back outside the building to verify that the highwayman’s horse was still tied. Finding the horse docilely eating some grass, he went back inside just in time to see Marcus lifting something off the floor. As Alexander got closer, he realized it was a door. When he finally joined Marcus, he saw he had uncovered some kind of underground tunnel.
“What the deuce!” Alexander exclaimed, and prepared to lower himself into the tunnel.
Once again, Marcus restrained him. “Wait. This is one of the tunnels that lead to the Tudor Arms in Hawkhurst. I think, rather than following him when he is most likely quite far ahead by now, we should go directly to the Tudor Arms and await him on the other end.”
“What if you are mistaken and it leads somewhere else? Meanwhile, he has Emily down there with him. Tell you what, you go to the Tudor Arms, I’ll go through the tunnel. That way one of us is bound to catch him.” Alexander was gone into the tunnel before Marcus had time to agree or disagree. Marcus, having left his horse tethered to a tree, took the highwayman’s horse, and rode as fast as he could to the Tudor Arms.
Alexander found himself in a narrow passage, cold and dank, through which he had to travel bent forward, as it was too low to walk upright. He had extinguished his light, so he was in complete darkness, and he walked with his hands outstretched, guiding him. All he could think with each labored step was how terrified Emily must be, and, although his inclination was to run as fast as he could, he forced himself to walk slowly and carefully. It would not do Emily any good were he to hit his head in the darkness and be rendered unconscious.
After a stretch of time that seemed interminable to him, but was probably only about fifteen minutes, he heard some noises and knew they were just ahead. Emily had impeded the man’s progress quite a bit, and Alexander could hear him warning her to hurry.
“I should’ve left you back there, and if I wasn’t such a fool for the ladies, I would’ve. But you seemed such a nice cozy armful, it seemed a shame to leave you behind for those clumsy oafs.”
Emily, gagged as she was, said nothing in reply. She felt as though she had stumbled into a horrible nightmare and could not believe it was all really happening. The blow to her head had left her a little dazed, as well, which also contributed to her sense of unreality. She stumbled along the narrow tunnel as best she could, which was made even more difficult by the fact that her hands were tied behind her back. Again and again she cursed her stupidity in venturing alone into an area known to be frequented by a highwayman. Her wretched suspicions of Alexander had led her into such a dangerous situation, and she wondered how she could have ever believed him guilty of such a thing. She wished she could go back in time to that morning, where she would give a very different answer to his question, thereby avoiding the situation she now found herself in.
She refused to think of what this man had in store for her and concentrated on the hope that Alexander and Marcus would somehow catch up with them. She prayed that they had been the ones who had chased them into this tunnel.
She did not know whether to be relieved or terrified when they finally reached their destination. She had begun to feel she would go insane if they had stayed in the dark and musty tunnel a moment longer. Being gagged with one’s hands tied was unpleasant enough, but being in a narrow, short space on top of it contributed to her feeling of suffocation, until she felt that something inside her was about to explode. Before this could happen, however, the highwayman had untied her hands and was pushing her up, out of the tunnel.
“Pull yourself up by your hands,” he told her. She obeyed eagerly, but until the highwayman also came out of the tunnel and lit a lamp, she had no idea if her present situation was any better than the one she had just left. When the lamp was lit, she saw she was in a small chamber of some kind. She looked around for a door, but the room did not appear to possess doors or windows. There was a bed, a table with one chair, and a chest. She looked with interest at the highwayman, as well, who had joined her in the small room. This was the first time she
had seen his face since he had abducted her. He looked to be about thirty-five, with dark hair and eyes. He was not horribly disfigured in any way, and was probably considered by many to be handsome. Emily, however, viewed his appearance with dislike, thinking how wrong the reports were that labeled him a gentleman. The highwayman told her to sit down, and she sat down at the table, wondering if she dare undo her gag now that her hands were free. Before she had time to act on the thought, the highwayman removed it for her.
“You can scream all you want now, my girl. There’s not anyone who will hear you, and if they did, they would not be able to find you.”
“Where are we?” she asked, although she scarcely recognized her voice for her own.
“Welcome to the Tudor Arms,” he said, with a flourish. He laughed as she looked around her in confusion. “We’re in a small room that adjoins the basement. It was used by the Hawkhurst Gang sixty or seventy years ago. It is generally known that the tunnels exist, and even that they used to lead to the Tudor Arms, but no one other than I has seen the inside of this room for sixty years. There’s another tunnel that leads out of here, much shorter than the one we took in.” He gestured to the wall opposite, and Emily saw what looked like a hole in the wall. “It leads to the stables. Very convenient for me, as I leave my horse stabled there.” To Emily’s dismay, he stopped talking and approached the table where she sat, holding the lamp up to her face. “Let’s see how I made out this evening.” Emily set in silence, petrified, as he studied her face. “I’d say I have got quite a jewel here, and I didn’t even have to rob a carriage.” He laughed at his little joke, and Emily found the courage to speak.
“Sir, I am related to the nobility. It will fare badly for you if you kidnap me. We have a duke in residence at our home as I speak. And his son, a marquess, is my betrothed. They would be quite concerned if anything happened to me,” Emily warned, heedless of the truth. She would have said she was married to the Prince Regent if she thought that would have deterred him.
The highwayman just laughed at her threats. “You think to scare me with a duke and marquess, do you? I lost my fear of the nobility long ago. My father was agent at a grand estate, and I have a fine lord in my pocket.”
“What do you mean?” Emily asked, although she was really not interested. However, she figured if she kept him talking, he would not touch her.
Alexander, on the other hand, was very interested. He was still in the tunnel, waiting for a good opportunity to come out. He crouched just below the exit, where the light could not touch him, and listened carefully.
“I mean that a certain lord supplies me with details of when particular information is to be carried, by whom it is to be carried, and what route they are to take. I obtain this information for him, and, in return, he rewards me handsomely.”
“To whom do you refer?” Emily asked, a little curious by this point, but mostly to keep him talking. The highwayman looked at Emily for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to share such a secret, and then shrugged. “I suppose it will do no harm to tell you, and as fond of titles as you are, you may be acquainted. Lord Cecil Burke, youngest son of the earl of Kilburne.”
Emily thought for a moment, as she did not recognize the name at first. “Of course, Lord Cecil,” she said, as she recollected him. “He’s a cousin or nephew, a connection at least, of Lord Abernathy. But I do not understand. What information is it that he desires to obtain?”
The highwayman smiled. “I am glad you are stupid, my little ladybird. I detest any sign of intelligence in females. Let me break it down for you. We are presently at war, and one side will always pay a great deal to know what the other side is doing. Lord Cecil, for want of ready cash, makes the information available to the other side.”
“With your assistance. You are despicable. A filthy traitor.”
“Yes, well, unfortunately many in England share your sentiments, which is why I have decided on a change of climate. I have enough money to live quite comfortably in France the rest of my days, and, while you may view me as a traitor, they must, of course, view me differently. I had decided to leave tonight, but I really did not fancy speaking French the rest of my life. Your arrival upon the scene was quite fortuitous; I will have a little bit of England to take with me, as well as someone to warm my bed at night.”
It was all Alexander could do to restrain himself from leaping out of his hiding place, particularly when he heard sounds of a struggle. Just as he was preparing to exit, he heard a slap and Emily’s voice. “You swine,” she said.
“Call me Jack,” he said, rubbing his cheek where she had slapped him. “If I wasn’t fond of a bit of a tussle, you’d have your hands tied up again, my girl. Now then, before we get to know each other better, I have a little chore for you.” Jack went over to the chest and opened it, removing a piece of paper and a pen. “You are to write your parents, or whoever you think may be concerned about you, and tell them that you have run away with your secret lover, the son of an estate agent. If I know the nobility, they will write you off with barely a sigh of regret.”
“You cannot make me write such a thing,” Emily protested.
“Oh, can’t I? How would you fancy a bruise on your other cheek, to match this one?” he asked, touching the spot where he’d hit her earlier. “You will write whatever I say, or pay the consequences.”
Emily took the paper and pen and began writing. Alexander removed his pistol from his coat pocket, as he had heard all he needed to, and it did not appear Marcus was going to come to his assistance. He heard the highwayman tell Emily that she needn’t write a book, that he had other plans for the night, and Alexander cocked his pistol. When he heard sounds of a scuffle, and Emily’s cries of distress, he scrambled out of the tunnel as quickly as possible.
The highwayman did not even notice him, so intent was he on Emily. He had his arms around her and was pressing his lips to her neck, and the expression of revulsion and fear on Emily’s face was something Alexander felt would live in his memory long after that night was over. He stepped up behind the man and shoved the pistol into his back. “Let go of her, and put your hands up where I can see them.”
The highwayman obeyed, and just as Alexander was checking his pockets for weapons, they were all distracted by a very loud banging noise, before the wall of the room came crashing in on them.
Chapter Twelve
Marcus had rushed to the Tudor Arms, where he had asked to speak to the landlord of the establishment. The landlord was helpful enough, and agreed that it was common knowledge that the Hawkhurst Gang had used a tunnel that was supposed to end at his establishment, but he had never seen any evidence of such a tunnel.
“Believe me, your honor, if there was such a thing, I would know it. Know every square inch of this place, I do.”
Marcus thanked him, but asked him if he could perform his own investigation, just the same. The landlord agreed, and Marcus asked to be directed to the basement. He reasoned that as the tunnel ran underground, it was likely to end below ground, as well. He took a lamp and examined each wall in the basement. His first time around he could find nothing, and was worried he was wasting precious time on a wild-goose chase. He asked the landlord, who had been observing him in silence, if the basement ran the entire length of the building.
The landlord answered in the affirmative, and watched in puzzlement as Marcus began to measure off the distance of one side of the room by placing one foot in front of the other and counting. He then asked for the quickest way out of the building and began measuring the outside wall in the same manner. When he was finished, he looked at the landlord in triumph.
“Even allowing for the width of the outside walls, there’s still a good ten-foot difference between the length of your basement and the length of the building.”
The landlord proclaimed his astonishment and directed some of the servants to assist Marcus in investigating the walls of the basement. It was not long before someone noticed an irregularity in one wall
, and Marcus drew closer to investigate. It looked as if someone had applied stucco over the stone wall in this one section. Marcus asked for a knife, and began to chip away at the stucco. After a few minutes, he had chipped away about a square inch or so, and saw that there was wood beneath. “I believe, gentleman,” he told his audience, who were waiting to hear the results of his investigation, “we have found a door.”
Marcus asked if they had anything they could use as a battering ram. There was a long log in the woodshed that had not yet been cut up for firewood that was found to suit this purpose. Marcus organized the two servants who looked the strongest to begin battering down the door. After just two tries they were successful, and the door gave way, the log flying through with the two men dragged along behind.
Inside the room, all was in chaos. Alexander had dropped the highwayman and his pistol, grabbing Emily and pulling her out of the way of the log. The highwayman, seeing his chance for escape, ran into the tunnel that led to the stable. But Marcus, who had entered the room by this time, managed to grab him by the back of his coat and hold him for the few seconds necessary until the other men came through the broken wall and assisted him in dragging the highwayman back into the room. Then they tied his hands behind him, with the same length of rope that had just recently been around Emily’s wrists. The men who had formed part of the battering ram were dazed, bruised, and a little scratched, but otherwise all right, and Marcus promised them a guinea and a pint for their assistance in catching a traitor to the crown.
Emily was crying in Alexander’s arms, hardly able to believe her ordeal was over. Alexander held her tightly against his chest, telling her to hush, and gently smoothing her hair back from her face. He kept seeing in his mind her expression as the highwayman held her captive in his arms, and he tightened his hold until Emily was in more danger from suffocation from him than she had been in the tunnel.
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