Jenny looked up at me, fury glinting in her eyes. Then she twisted ferociously beneath me, knocking me sideways with ease. Before I knew what had happened, I was sprawling with my face shoved into the slate tiles and my arm burning as Jenny twisted it. ‘Is it likely I’d come up here for a chat if I’d prigged your stash?’ she demanded, her voice vibrant with anger. ‘I ain’t got the slightest idea where it is. You bin careless, I daresay.’
‘I haven’t,’ I answered, gasping with the pain in my arm, the slates grazing my face as I struggled to escape her grip.
‘Well, it wasn’t me! You said we was friends and I almost believed you. I come here to thank you for taking me to see me brother yesterday. And now you’re accusing me! Say you’re sorry!’ Jenny demanded.
‘I’m sorry!’ I gasped. ‘If you say it wasn’t you, I believe you.’
The grip loosened a little. ‘No more attacking me then!’ Jenny said.
‘Much good it would do me,’ I muttered resentfully.
She released me and stood over me, daring me to break my word. I sat up and rubbed my sore arm. ‘There was no need to hurt me,’ I said crossly.
‘Who started it?’ asked Jenny. Then she began to laugh. ‘Fighting like a couple of cats on the rooftops,’ she said.
I only managed a faint smile. The loss of my possessions was too serious for laughter. I crawled over to the hiding place, and lifted the tile again allowing the moonlight to shine into the gap. There was only gaping blackness. Carefully I reached in one more time, and explored the roof space. Unexpectedly my fingers closed on a slim package. It wasn’t my breeches, nor yet the leather of my father’s purse. Puzzled I pulled it out and turned it over. It was a hard rectangle wrapped in brown paper.
‘What’s that then?’ asked Jenny.
‘I’ve never seen it before,’ I replied, unwrapping it. Inside the paper was a slim volume. I could just make out the gold lettering. The Rape of the Lock by Alexander Pope. A small piece of paper fluttered out of the package and down onto the tiles. I turned it this way and that, trying to make it out in the moonlight. It was just one word. Sorry. ‘Sorry,’ I repeated out loud. ‘Sorry! How dare he?’
Jenny raised her brows in a question.
‘Mr Charleton,’ I said bitterly. ‘It must be. He’s the only one besides you who knows this is my route out of the house. And he knows I want to read this book. He’s preventing me from getting out of the house, and leaving me poetry as compensation. If it had been my father, it would have been a book of sermons I found here. Or a birch cane for a beating.’
Jenny squatted down beside me and rocked on her heels. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Why?’
I poured out my tangled story of friendship mixed up with hostility and suspicion. How he’d followed me onto the roof, tried to prevent me going out at night and suspected me of involvement in last night’s riot. Jenny listened silently, then drew a die out of her own pocket and tossed it casually, catching it deftly again. ‘Do you care for him?’ she asked, off-handed.
‘Not a jot,’ I assured her swiftly. I was glad of the darkness to hide my traitorous flush. The truth was I had confused feelings towards Mr Charleton. I didn’t understand them myself.
‘So you don’t think you should do like he says?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I said, this time with complete truth. ‘He has no right to interfere with my activities! I told him so.’
Jenny grinned, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight. ‘Well then,’ she said. ‘Here’s a plan. I get you more clothes. You help me out with a little job I needs doing tomorrow night.’
‘Anything you like,’ I said promptly, without pausing to consider what I might be required to do. ‘I’ll go insane if I have another spell of being tied to the house.’ Privately, I considered it served Mr Charleton right if I got into mischief after he had behaved so treacherously. A very small voice whispered that it could have been worse. He could have gone to my father and told him what I was doing. I stifled the voice and refused to be grateful. He had no right to interfere.
‘I’ll meet you here tomorrow night then,’ Jenny said with a grin.
‘Aren’t you going to tell me what we’ll be doing?’
‘It’ll be a surprise,’ replied Jenny, vanishing silently into the darkness.
I crept back into my room, frustrated to be deprived of the outing I’d looked forward to all day. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but the poetry did sweeten the disappointment. Though not as much as the prospect of an adventure tomorrow night.
Overnight, a new subject for gossip succeeded the riot. From one moment to the next, it seemed forgotten, and all the talk was of costumes. Beau Nash had announced a grand masked ball to close the Bath season. Precedence was to be set aside in favour of disguise, and there was to be a classical theme.
I couldn’t care less how I spent the final ball of the season. A masquerade didn’t excite me in the least. I listened all the next day to the excited chatter about Helen of Troy, Zeus and Paris, and yawned, biding time until nightfall. My only disappointment was the absence of Mr Charleton from the round of daily activities. I had a few choice words stored up to say to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jenny was true to her word, arriving with a bundle of boy’s clothes, a cap and shoes at dusk. She herself was in a ragged gown. I followed her as she made her way by dark alleys through the city and across the wall. From there we made our way to a tumbledown stable in a field where two horses awaited us ready saddled and bridled.
‘So what is it we’re doing?’ I asked at last. Jenny was stripping off her gown, stuffing it into her saddlebag and pulling on breeches, shirt, and black coat. Once the transformation was complete, we swung ourselves up onto the horses’ backs and made our way at a brisk trot across the field.
‘Holding up a coach, o’ course,’ she said with a grin. ‘There’s two loaded pistols in your saddlebag. And a mask.’
I felt a slight lurch in my stomach. ‘I told you I didn’t want to rob,’ I said.
‘Well, we ain’t after his valuables so much as his papers,’ said Jenny. ‘So that’s all right, ain’t it?’ She led the way through a gate into a lane. The shadows were deep here, and I could see little as the horses walked briskly up the hill. When I didn’t reply to her question, Jenny admitted, ‘Though they said to nick his purse as well, to make it look less suspicious.’
‘Who are you doing this for?’ I asked curiously. ‘And what’s it about?’
‘Dunno who they are or why, but they’re paying me five guineas and I can keep any valuables I take,’ said Jenny with a grin. ‘They said as how this was important. I’ll go halves with you. The clothes I’ve give you are for free.’ She grinned wickedly in the moonlight.
‘And why isn’t your father helping you instead of me?’
Jenny frowned suddenly. ‘He was supposed to be. This was his job. But he got took,’ she said shortly. ‘He’s in gaol.’
We reached the brow of a hill and left the lane, pushing into a wood. ‘He got taken, and you want me to take his place?’ I asked incredulously. ‘And what if we get caught?’
‘Oh, not on the highway,’ Jenny assured me. ‘He was taken in the rumpus in the city the other night.’
‘He was rioting?’ I asked, remembering the violence of that night.
‘Not exactly,’ she said evasively.
‘What then?’
‘He was more using the fuss to his advantage, like. Oh, all right, he was picking the pockets of them that was. But he got arrested for all that.’
‘Can you manage without him?’ I asked concerned for her.
‘I’d do a sight better without him,’ said Jenny caustically. ‘If only he hadn’t left me with never a penny, his drinking debts and the rent unpaid the past two months. I got to have money. That’s what tonight’s for.’
‘Can’t Bill help you?’ I asked.
‘Lord love you, he ain’t got no money. Spent it all getting here, didn’t he? I can look
after meself.’
I stifled my misgivings and resolved to hear her out at least.
‘Listen,’ said Jenny, ‘this man who’s comin’ along, he’ll be armed. This ain’t goin’ to be an easy plucking. I thought we should rope the road to be safe. Then we can hide in the trees and jump out at ’em.’
‘Rope the road?’ I asked incredulously. ‘Do you mean tie a rope to bring down the horses?’
‘We’re outnumbered and they’re stronger than us. There ain’t no other way.’
‘I’m having nothing to do with that,’ I said firmly. ‘Chances are the horses would have to be shot. They don’t deserve that.’
The wood opened out into a field, the moonlight was bright, and Jenny pushed her horse into a canter down the slope. ‘If you’re going to be soft about it … ’ she said derisively over her shoulder.
‘Not soft, just humane,’ I said urging my mount after hers. ‘How long do we have?’
Jenny shrugged. ‘After dark was all they said, on the road back from Bristol. Driving a curricle with his own pair o’ horses. So that’s unusual enough that we’ll not mistake it this time o’ night.’
‘A curricle,’ I echoed. ‘So there’ll only be space for one groom. That makes it easier. But … we need more people, surely? If this is important, as you say it is, we can’t afford to muff it. We need a lookout to tell us it’s the right carriage; we can’t afford to rob a wrong one first in case they alert the magistrate.’
The more I thought about this the more anxious I became. We slowed to a walk, and emerged onto a tree-lined road. ‘Why is this being entrusted to two girls?’ I asked. Jenny looked away and didn’t reply. ‘Jenny?’
‘All right, so they don’t know I’m a girl. And this was entrusted to me dad and his cronies, not to me. But now he’s not here and some of them are in prison and all. The rest is gone to ground; can’t find ’em. There was no one but you. And I need the money.’
I silently cursed Mr Charleton for taking my own stash of money. If I’d still had it, I’d have given Jenny what she needed and called this dangerous robbery off. Should I ask Mr Charleton? Tell him the trouble a friend of mine was in and ask for my money back? No, he’d never believe me now.
Jenny pulled up and I reined in beside her. The night was very still without the thud of our horses’ hooves or the creak of leather. ‘This is the spot I picked,’ she told me.
‘Very well,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I’ll help you just this once if we try a decoy.’ The incident of the carriage crash on Lansdown was fresh in my mind. Drivers were suspicious of decoys, yes, but what if it was one they had to stop for?
‘Hold on a moment,’ said Jenny belligerently. ‘Are you telling me how we’re going to do this? Or am I hearing wrong?’
‘No, you’re hearing right,’ I retorted.
‘And how many carriages have you held up so far? In your long, experienced career on the High Toby?’ she demanded sarcastically.
‘Just the one, as you well know, but … ’
‘Whereas I bin playing this game since you was still wetting your napkins, so let me decide how we’ll do it.’
‘Firstly, you’re not much older than me, so let’s not compare pot-training,’ I said. ‘Secondly, if you’ve got an idea that doesn’t involve crippling two horses and risking us getting shot, I’m happy to hear it.’
A long silence hung between us. I was the first to break it: ‘Will you at least hear my idea? There’s less danger if we stop the wrong carriage, for they won’t see the pistols. And if we’re caught, there have been no horses killed, so it’s a less serious crime.’
‘Don’t fool yourself,’ said Jenny bitterly. ‘This is a hanging matter either way.’ She sighed. ‘Go on then. Spit it out.’
I started to strip off my coat, and then my shirt. ‘Put your gown back on, and get your pistol out,’ I said, handing her my shirt and pulling my coat on again, buttoning it up. ‘Wrap that up to look like a baby. You’re going to be a damsel in distress.’
When I’d explained my plan to her, Jenny sniffed disapprovingly. ‘I don’t see why I should be the one in petticoats, nor with a babby,’ she said. ‘Why can’t you do that bit?’
‘You’re the one with a gown,’ I retorted. I’d barely persuaded her to play her part as I wanted, when we heard the distant sounds of a carriage. Jenny hurried to lie in the road clutching her white linen bundle, and I concealed myself in the trees. I buttoned my black coat and pulled my mask down over my head with some distaste. It was fashioned from an old, smelly stocking, with holes cut into it to see through. To my mind, a proper mask would be required to give highway robbery the romance and flair it was generally credited with. I adjusted the unsatisfactory mask, and tucked my pistol into my coat. It was loaded, as Jenny had told me, but not cocked.
A few moments later, I saw Jenny get up from the road and melt into the trees. I frowned, wondering what she was playing at. The carriage would be upon us at any moment and we’d miss it. Sure enough, only a few moments later, it swept around the corner. I relaxed. It was a post-chaise drawn by four horses, a coachman handling the reins, an ostler riding one of the lead horses and a groom on the box seat nursing a large, heavy weapon.
As it passed me, I breathed a sigh of relief that we hadn’t tried to meddle with it. Jenny was beside me in the darkness, a shadow under the trees, her white bundle the only thing that was visible. ‘You get an ear for whether it’s two horses or four,’ she said in my ear. ‘With experience, that is.’
Her tone was mocking; before I could retort she’d vanished again. A solitary rider passed us, but otherwise the night was still for nearly an hour before we heard the sound of another vehicle. It was a warm night, but I was growing chilled standing so still, and my nerves were on edge with the tension. I could see Jenny at some distance from me, listening carefully. All at once, she stepped quite deliberately out into the road and lay down. I guessed the carriage we wanted was on its way. I wiped my hand on my breeches and gripped my pistol.
Everything happened very fast. The curricle came round the corner at a slapping pace, and Jenny began to cry out and wave a grubby pocket handkerchief frantically at the driver. ‘Help me!’ she cried. ‘Please help!’
I held my breath. For one appalling instant I thought the curricle wasn’t going to stop in time. But the driver saw Jenny and pulled up his pair at the last moment, with Jenny almost under their feet. At the same time, whilst both men’s attention was on Jenny, I left the treeline and dropped down behind the curricle, hiding in its shadow.
‘See if she’s all right, will you, Baines,’ said a heartstoppingly familiar voice. I froze in horror and crouched lower.
‘Sir, this could be a trap,’ I heard the second man urge.
‘Then take your pistol, but we can’t drive over the girl,’ pointed out the first voice reasonably. ‘There are laws against that sort of thing.’
The servant stood up. As he did so, I caught hold of the back of the curricle with one hand. I paused, holding my breath until the moment when the servant Baines climbed down clumsily into the road. At exactly the same time, I hoisted myself up behind them, hoping that my own weight on the curricle would go unnoticed. Baines seemed to be an older man, not very agile, which gave Jenny an easier task than I was going to have.
I was experiencing a heady mix of horror and exhilaration. A part of me wished I could call to Jenny and stop this robbery in its tracks. But it was too late. So I threw myself into it, revelling in the danger and the reckless adventure. After all, there was a wonderful irony in robbing Mr Charleton in revenge for stealing my things. For it was his voice; I was almost certain of it.
The servant was bending over Jenny now, pistol in hand, asking her if she was hurt. She was weeping loudly, covering any sounds I might make, and crying out her concern for her poor sick ‘babby’ and how she’d sprained her ankle.
That was when Baines made his mistake. With one last glance around him, he tucked his pistol into his
waistband and bent to scoop Jenny up in his arms and move her from the roadway. Knowing what was coming, I eased my own pistol out of my coat and pressed its cold nose into Mr Charleton’s neck.
‘Don’t move,’ I whispered in his ear. I felt his sharp intake of breath, the tension in his body in front of mine. He knew now what was happening, but was powerless to shout a warning to his servant. Baines too had frozen, the muzzle of Jenny’s pistol appearing instead of a baby as she unwrapped her bundle.
‘Arms up, very slowly,’ I whispered to Mr Charleton. He sat quite still, not moving.
‘This is a mistake,’ he said. ‘You’ll regret this.’
I saw his hand stealing towards his coat and knew I had to convince him. Reluctantly, I drew back the safety catch on my pistol until it clicked. I was now pointing a loaded, primed weapon straight at Mr Charleton’s throat. The thought that the gun could go off in my hand made me shake, but I did my best to put my fear aside.
Mr Charleton was taking me seriously now. His hands were moving slowly into the air, his lace ruffles falling back from his wrists. Taking great care not to put any pressure on the trigger I held, I reached around him slipping my hand inside his coat. My fingers met the cold iron of a pistol and I withdrew it carefully, dropping it into the road.
I felt inside his coat again. I couldn’t find the papers. Then I noticed that his waistcoat was unyielding under my fingers and guessed they were inside it. I slid my hand inside his waistcoat and there they were; a bundle of folded sheets.
I could feel Mr Charleton’s heart beating strongly through the thin layer of his shirt and somehow that unnerved me more than anything else had done so far. I quickly drew the packet of papers from his waistcoat. My mind started noticing strange things, like the fact that they were still warm from the heat of his body.
The Girl in the Mask Page 18