The Girl in the Mask

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  ‘I’m sure he did,’ he said drily. ‘It won’t surprise you to know that I’ve been looking for you?’

  ‘It would surprise me greatly,’ I said, slowly regaining some command over myself. ‘I would have thought you’d have far better things to do with your time.’ Mr Charleton swung me roughly into a turn and I nearly lost my balance. ‘Please, have a care, sir,’ I said indignantly.

  ‘I do have many better things to do,’ he said, his voice curt with anger. ‘Unfortunately, you’ve intruded upon my business in a most serious manner.’

  This was a direct accusation. The dance swept me away from him for a spell, as I took a turn with another gentleman. I had time to compose my features before Mr Charleton took my hand again. ‘You don’t answer me, Miss Williams.’

  ‘I don’t understand you, Mr Charleton. I haven’t seen you for a week. In what way could I possibly have troubled you now?’

  Mr Charleton completed the final steps of the dance in tight-lipped silence. The minute the music stopped, he took my hand and led me swiftly to a window where there were fewer people. There he swung me to face him, took my chin in his hand and compelled me to look into his eyes.

  ‘Was that or was that not you who held me up on the road back from Bristol?’ he demanded. His voice was low to avoid anyone overhearing his words, but it was vibrant with anger.

  ‘You’re ridiculous, sir,’ I countered him, staring back as boldly as I could. Silence reigned between us for a moment. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of my father staring at us. ‘We’re being watched,’ I told him. ‘My father is walking towards us; he will ask you what you mean by accosting me in this way.’ I tried to pull away.

  ‘Your father will do no such thing,’ Mr Charleton replied. ‘He’s too desperate to get you a husband to come between us during such a promising conversation.’ He let go of my face, instead catching my hand and lifting it to his lips. ‘He will hope I’m proposing to you,’ he said, pressing a kiss upon it.

  A shock went through me at the touch of his lips. I tried to pull my hand away. ‘I believe I’ve complained before of your arrogance,’ I told him in a furious, but not quite steady, voice.

  ‘Whatever can you mean, Miss Williams? I’m apparently desperately in love,’ said Mr Charleton. He kissed my hand again, looking into my eyes, though his look was anything but amorous. I was embarrassed, angry, hurt and my heart beat fast.

  ‘You hate me. Please, let me go,’ I begged him. ‘People are watching.’

  ‘Let them,’ he said. ‘Did you or did you not hold up my coach and steal papers from me?’

  ‘Do I look like the kind of girl who would do such a thing?’ I demanded desperately.

  ‘No, Miss Williams, in this guise, you look both innocent and adorable, but we both know that there is another side to you.’ He held my hand in a grip of iron so that I couldn’t pull it away.

  ‘I should like to hit you,’ I told him, keeping my voice as low as his.

  ‘I daresay, or even hold a pistol to my throat.’

  ‘Yes, that would appeal to me,’ I retorted. Despite his vice-like grip on me, I felt I was winning. He couldn’t force me to admit anything.

  ‘Or search my breeches for a purse?’ enquired Mr Charleton.

  It was utterly unexpected, and I felt a flush flooding my face, betraying me.

  ‘I … no … ’

  ‘That recalls the incident to your mind, doesn’t it, Miss Williams?’ said Mr Charleton. ‘Where are those papers? This is no game. This concerns the security of this city; perhaps even of the nation!’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I gasped, trying to back away from him, appalled by his words and by the anger in his face. ‘I never had them. I don’t know where they are.’

  My back was against the wall. Mr Charleton closed in on me and leaned one hand against the wall, bending towards me. He was clever, I couldn’t deny it. He must look like a lover to the rest of the room, whilst he tormented me with his questions. I turned my face aside, made wretched by the difference between what this looked like and what it really was. ‘Who were your conspirators? Who helped you?’ Mr Charleton demanded. ‘Who fired that shot?’

  I shut my lips tightly and shook my head. I had given myself away, but not for the world would I betray Jenny. I hoped that at least she was safe somewhere and had been paid for what we’d done. ‘You have no idea of the harm you may have caused,’ said Mr Charleton sternly. He didn’t say it as a threat, but as a reproach.

  ‘What harm?’ I asked. I felt dreadful. Mr Charleton simply shook his head at me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, ashamed.

  ‘It’s too bad we are on opposing sides,’ said Mr Charleton. ‘I would have preferred to have worked with you than against you.’

  ‘I’m not on a side … ’ I cried. ‘This has all been a stupid mistake! I wish I could undo what I’ve done.’

  Mr Charleton looked sceptical. ‘The only way you could do that would be to retrieve those papers unread,’ he said. ‘You can’t do that, can you?’

  I shook my head miserably. ‘I don’t think so. If only you hadn’t taken my money, there would have been no need … ’

  ‘Money?’ interrupted Mr Charleton. ‘But this was never about money was it? Money I can give you if you need it, for God’s sake. There are far bigger issues at stake. What about the notes that your aunt passes on, Sophia? What hand do you have in that?’ He broke off abruptly. ‘Here comes your father,’ he said, taking a step back and bowing over my hand. ‘You may pretend to him I’ve been whispering words of love to you, to which you’ve refused to listen. You’ve told me there is no hope for me.’ A ghost of a smile crossed his face as he spoke.

  I gripped his hand in sudden fear. ‘No, I can’t tell him any such thing,’ I gasped. ‘He’ll kill me.’

  Mr Charleton kissed my hand lightly and looked at me, a smile briefly replacing the strained look in his eyes. ‘You exaggerate, Sophia,’ he replied.

  His use of my name and the softening of his tone caught me by surprise. That and the fear of my father’s reaction combined to make unfamiliar tears start into my eyes.

  ‘I don’t,’ I said simply, blinking them back. ‘You have no idea.’

  Mr Charleton frowned, but then turned to meet my father with a bland smile. ‘How do you do, Sir Edward?’ he said pleasantly. ‘I’ve just been telling your daughter how very beautiful she looks this evening.’

  My heart gave a bound of relief, and I was aware I was trembling. There was nothing my father could take exception to in this, surely? He was smiling back, clearly pleased. Mr Charleton turned back to me. ‘I hope you’ll reserve a dance for me next week at the masquerade?’ he asked. Waiting only for my nod of consent, he bowed and left us.

  ‘Good, Sophia,’ said my father approvingly. ‘Did he hint at marriage at all?’

  ‘No, father,’ I said meekly, watching Mr Charleton wretchedly as he slipped out of the ballroom.

  ‘But he came only to dance with you by the look of it,’ said my father complacently. ‘He’s gone again now. So perhaps next week he will propose. That’s a connection that would bring honour to the family.’

  I knew that Mr Charleton wouldn’t propose, but was grateful to him for delaying my father’s fury.

  That night, I stole the key and sneaked out of my aunt’s bedchamber, determined to escape through my room and find Jenny. Wild plans of recovering the documents and running away buzzed in my head. I hated Mr Charleton to think so badly of me. Especially as even after everything I’d done, he’d still shielded me from my father’s wrath. And I had to escape my father. I didn’t know what sort of life would await me if I was forced to fend for myself, but it couldn’t be worse than the fate implied by my father’s threats.

  I succeeded in leaving the room without waking my aunt, but when I reached my bedchamber on the third floor, the door was locked against me. Desperate, I crept downstairs. The front door was bolted and chained. Once I had cautiously freed up all these barri
ers, I found that it had been locked too. The back door was similarly barred and all the windows now had locks on them. No doubt this had been done whilst we were away.

  I slid down to the cold flagstones of the kitchen floor and half sat, half lay against the wall. I was utterly trapped. The situation was too serious for either tears or tantrums, and I sat there quiet and still, breathing hard, my mind working furiously. I had to find a way of escaping during the day. There was no other possibility.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Mr Charleton wasn’t at either the Grove or Harrison’s the following day. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. My aunt stayed by my side while my father played lansquenet for high stakes in the card room, drinking glass after glass of burgundy. We walked in the garden. The heat of the summer had faded now, and it was a cool day with a brisk breeze; just the sort of weather to be climbing the hills around the city, not meandering pointlessly in a garden. When we went in for tea, we were joined by Captain Mould. ‘Good day, ladies,’ he said, giving us a stiff, military-style bow, so different from Mr Charleton’s distinguished elegance. ‘I hope I find you well?’

  ‘Quite well, thank you,’ said my aunt, looking flustered. She turned to me, ‘Sophia, would you get me some more tea, please?’

  Aware that she wanted to be rid of me, I accepted the dish she held out to me and walked slowly across to get it refilled. Something made me pause and glance back halfway across the room, and I saw a slight movement between them, so swift I barely followed it, but I was almost sure it was the handing over of a letter or note. How many times had I seen that earlier in our stay at the Bath? Was it really love-letters, as I’d imagined? Mr Charleton had said something about notes at the ball last night; I hadn’t thought about it after my father had interrupted us. But now I wondered.

  While my aunt drank her tea, she cast longing glances at the card room. Captain Mould suggested she went to play, and offered to walk with me in the gardens. Aunt Amelia got up at once. She wasn’t supposed to leave me, but my father was far too engrossed in his game by now to notice, and the lizard was a chaperone of sorts.

  Unwillingly, I accepted his escort out into the gardens, withdrawing my hand from his arm at the earliest opportunity. My mind was occupied with wondering where he might have secreted the paper my aunt had handed to him, and whether it would be possible to abstract it. If I gave it to Mr Charleton, might he believe that I wasn’t working for the rebels? I’d stopped telling myself I didn’t care what he thought of me. I cared deeply. I knew I’d put myself in the wrong.

  ‘So, Captain,’ I asked provocatively. ‘Do you think we have seen the last of the riots in the streets? It’s been several weeks now.’

  ‘This is hardly a fit subject for a young lady,’ replied the captain, and as he spoke, he passed his right hand inside the rim of the hat that he carried under his left arm. So that is where the note is, I thought. Concealed in the hat. ‘Should we not rather talk of the forthcoming masquerade? You must be excited.’

  ‘I find I can contain my excitement, sir,’ I replied. ‘It is after all, only a ball with masks.’

  ‘True, but you ladies find such events irresistible, you know,’ said the captain with an air of condescension. ‘I’m looking forward to the evening with every expectation of pleasure. I hope you will keep dances for me.’

  I looked down at my feet, unwilling to commit myself, but knowing there was unlikely to be any escape. No one else would ask me. Even Mr Charleton’s request I discounted. ‘Indeed, I hope that you will very soon do more than dance with me,’ continued Captain Mould. ‘I intend to speak to your father again today about our union.’

  ‘My father doesn’t favour you, Captain,’ I replied, trying and failing to keep my voice steady. ‘Perhaps you aren’t sufficiently wealthy or high-born. He’s a proud man.’

  The captain laughed softly and stopped walking. We were at the far end of the garden, overlooking the river. To avoid looking at him, I leaned over the parapet and looked down into the murky brown water of the river. It hadn’t rained for a while, and the water level was low, an unpleasant tang arising from its muddy depths.

  The captain’s hand was on my arm, caressing me. ‘I think he will favour me very shortly,’ he told me. ‘You see, I’ve won rather a large sum of money from him. These things can make it so very difficult to say no. Pride becomes a luxury.’

  My skin shrank from his touch, but I forced myself to stand still and not flinch away. His hand slid slowly up my arm to my shoulder. Still I didn’t move. ‘Miss Williams, we could deal well together,’ said the captain. ‘If only you would be guided by me! I’m certain your father won’t stand in the way of your happiness.’

  How little you know, you vile lizard, I thought bitterly. My father would oppose my happiness with his dying breath. And in any case, there would be no happiness to be found in marriage to you. Was that to be my choice? Marriage to Captain Mould or some dark fate threatened by my father? Either was a death sentence. I would run away. Destitution couldn’t be worse than the choice of fates before me. But before I went, I would try and redeem myself in Mr Charleton’s eyes. I half-turned to Captain Mould.

  ‘My father would be very pleased to see me married,’ I admitted.

  ‘There, I knew it,’ he said, a note of triumph in his thin, nasal voice. ‘And you, my dear?’

  ‘Does not every girl secretly dream of matrimony?’ I asked with a simper, nauseated at my own falseness. Captain Mould stared down at me triumphantly. He ran his lizard tongue over his lips and smoothed his great moustaches. Then he cast a swift glance around him, drew me behind a tall bush where we were unobserved and slid one arm around my waist.

  I wanted to be sick. I hated the smell of him, and loathed having him so close, but I stood quite still. Any minute now he was going to try and kiss me, and I didn’t think I could bear it, but it would give me an opportunity to try and take the note from him.

  The captain drew me into his arms, whispering that we would soon be married and that he had known all along I would learn to love him. Amazed at his gullibility, I ran my hand along his arm as though in caress, but reaching cautiously for his hat. As the captain bent his head, however, I lost my courage and turned my face aside. I simply couldn’t make myself kiss him; it would be too vile. I remembered Hellena’s words of disgust on the subject of kissing an old man in The Rover: ‘Nuzzle through his beard and find his lips,’ she had said. I shuddered.

  Captain Mould didn’t seem to notice. He kissed my cheek instead, and then dropped a wet kiss on my neck. I had my hand on his hat now. Revolted to have his whiskers on my skin, but forcing myself to remain passive, I slipped my hand inside the hat brim and felt along the lining until my fingers met the slight bulge of paper. It was the work of a moment to grasp and withdraw it.

  I pulled away quickly, not needing to feign the hot blush of embarrassment. ‘Please, sir!’ I exclaimed. ‘You presume too much!’

  ‘I shall speak to your father,’ said Captain Mould, almost panting in his eagerness. He caught at my hand, dropped a lizard-kiss onto it, so very different from Mr Charleton’s kisses the previous night, and hurried away.

  I leaned back over the parapet, gulping the air, trying to calm myself. I shivered uncontrollably for a moment and then began to regain my calm. I wanted to wash everywhere the lizard had touched me, and I wanted to run and shout to blot out the memory of those horrible moments. But the note was clutched tightly in my hand. I’d done it. If it was a love letter, I would scream with disappointment, but I was certain it wasn’t. Swiftly glancing around me to check I was still alone, I unfolded the slip of paper. It meant nothing at all to me; it was scribbles and gibberish. After an initial lurch of disappointment, I realized it could be code.

  I had to get it to Mr Charleton. He might know what to make of it, though I did not. Having searched the tea room and the card room fruitlessly, I stood irresolute, at a loss what to do next. As I hesitated, I saw the captain app
roach my father at his card table, only to be entreated to join him. To my relief, he did so, taking a seat, being dealt a hand, and poured a glass of wine. If he was to play he would have no opportunity to speak to my father immediately.

  My aunt was seated three tables away with a party of ladies, but had her back to me. I was unsupervised, and none of them realized it. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. I left Harrison’s, my mind running on whether to seek Jenny or Mr Charleton first. As I walked along the street, my heavy, cumbersome petticoats swaying and my high heels threatening to twist my ankles, I realized that finding Jenny in these clothes would be completely impracticable. I’d never make it to the village where she lived, nor be sure of finding her there even if I did.

  Instead I hurried to Trim Street, making my way past my own front door towards number two where Mr Charleton resided. The butler who opened the door informed me that his master wasn’t at home. ‘Can you tell me where I might find him?’ I begged. ‘It’s extremely urgent. I know he would want to get this message.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss, I’ve no idea,’ replied the butler, his face blank and his voice expressionless. I imagined he was shocked by a young lady calling unaccompanied on a gentleman, but was too well-trained to show it. ‘Would you like to wait for him?’

  I stood on the doorstep, irresolute. He could be out for hours. ‘No, thank you,’ I said and turned away. What should I do now? I couldn’t walk into the busy stable yard to retrieve my boy’s clothes in the day time. I had no money for a chair and no idea what to do next. I turned and walked slowly back along Trim Street, trying to decide whether I should search the city for my quarry or return to Harrison’s before I was missed and hope to see him later in the day.

  I’d almost decided to go back when a low whistle from the roof of the stable caught my attention. I looked up and saw a grubby face framed by tangled brown hair peering down at me. ‘Jenny!’ I cried with relief, but she shushed me urgently. Glancing around her, she disappeared from sight for a moment and then reappeared on the wall. She was still in her boy’s garb, but looking thin, dishevelled and dirty. She dropped down beside me. ‘I’ve been wait-in’ here, tryin’ to speak to you for days,’ she said.