The Girl in the Mask

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  It was good to immerse myself in the tub of warm water and scrub the weeks of accumulated dirt from my body. It was even better to sleep in a clean, comfortable bed. But I woke early, wondering what on earth was to become of me. I suspected Mr Charleton wouldn’t agree to let us continue our robberies. It occurred to me he might even try and force me to return to my father. Unable to lie still any longer with that hideous possibility in my mind, I got up. I found my breeches and shirt had been washed for me overnight. I dressed quietly, so as not to wake Jenny, and went downstairs. The sun was shining brightly outside, sending rays of autumn sunlight slanting in through the windows of the inn. It crossed my mind that it might be best simply to run away now. I could be out in that sunshine in a matter of minutes, riding away from here. But the temptation of seeing Mr Charleton was stronger than my instinct to flee.

  Mr Charleton, an early riser apparently, was in the parlour writing letters. I was strangely glad to see his tall, elegant figure seated at the table. I’d missed him more than I’d realized these past weeks. When he looked up and smiled at me, I found myself smiling back.

  Mr Charleton put down his pen, got up to bow to me, and offered me a seat on the settle by the fire. When I sat down, he sat next to me. I expected him to speak, but he said nothing, merely staring abstractedly into the fire. At last after a long silence, he looked at me, his expression very grave. ‘Sophia,’ he said, and then paused as though unsure how to continue.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked him, alarmed, for he looked so serious.

  ‘I have some news which is going to upset you.’

  ‘Tell me,’ I begged fearfully.

  ‘Your father … ’

  I interrupted him. ‘My father has gambled all his fortune away. I know that.’

  ‘You know it? How?’ asked Mr Charleton, startled.

  ‘I saw my aunt,’ I said. ‘I went back to fetch some things and she was there … stealing my jewellery.’

  ‘So it will be no surprise to you to hear that she fled the Bath?’

  ‘None at all. Good riddance,’ I replied. ‘Though I’d rather she’d been arrested.’

  Mr Charleton shook his head. ‘That was never likely. She was a go-between; a mere messenger. With so many conspirators to deal with, she was of too little interest. And although we’re sure that both she and the captain were card sharps, we couldn’t prove it.’

  ‘Do you mean she cheated?’ I asked. ‘You’re quite right. She admitted as much to me.’

  ‘That was foolish of her. Though it’s good to know my suspicions were correct. But, Sophia, that is not the main thing I have to tell you. There is worse: I’m afraid your father is dead.’

  I froze, trying to take in what he had said. ‘That’s not … possible,’ I faltered at last. ‘How can he be dead?’

  All my life I’d stood in my father’s shade. Even from the other side of the Atlantic, his shadow had reached me. And now he was gone? I couldn’t believe it.

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘But how … ?’ I asked and then before he could answer, a thought struck me. ‘His pride would never stand the disgrace of the ruin he’d brought upon himself. Did he take his own life?’

  Mr Charleton shook his head. ‘No. He got into a quarrel over cards in a tavern, it’s believed. He took part in a duel at dawn the day after the failed rebellion. He was shot through the heart; his body found in the fields. I’m so sorry, Sophia,’ Mr Charleton said. ‘It’s an ending I’ve seen all too often when cards or dice take control of a man.’

  ‘So I’m free?’ I asked, hardly daring to believe it. ‘I don’t have to go back to him?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Mr Charleton sounding startled. ‘I thought you would be upset.’

  ‘I am. Shocked too. But most of all I’m relieved. You can’t even begin to understand what a tyrant he was. And I don’t believe,’ I said, musing, ‘that he ever showed me even one bit of love. Not ever.’

  ‘What will you do?’ asked Mr Charleton. ‘We don’t know where your aunt has gone.’

  ‘She doesn’t want me. I don’t know,’ I said soberly. ‘I really don’t know. I thought the free life of the highway would suit me. I love the excitement and the uncertainty. But there’s no point. I’m robbing people, doing wrong, without any justification at all. I want to do something that has a purpose. Oh, dear. It’s hard to explain. But do you understand what I mean?’

  ‘I do understand.’ Mr Charleton’s voice was kind.

  ‘I need work. A task to do. A reason for living. And I have nothing.’

  ‘I can see that. I’ve given the matter some thought. I do have an offer of sorts for the two of you. It’s seemed to me that you would relish a more active life than you have led up to now, even if it meant stepping out of your class. Mr Allen is willing and able to offer you and Jenny work within the post office. He promises to take care of you, to help you find somewhere suitable to live. He’s a very kind and trustworthy man, and has been rewarded largely for his key role in intercepting mail and quelling the rebellion. As you can perhaps imagine, a man in his position was invaluable to us. I predict he will make his fortune.’

  ‘In rebuilding the city of Bath? I’m so glad!’

  ‘Perhaps,’ admitted Mr Charleton. ‘But I think he plans to reform the Post Office first.’

  ‘I’m happy for him. But … work in the post office?’ I asked astonished. I thought about it and laughed a little. ‘Well, I might be able to do such work. It’s certainly a kind offer. But sir, do you see that suiting Jenny? We would be robbing the posts or running away within the month.’

  Mr Charleton looked a little pained. ‘And you, Sophia?’ he asked. ‘Could you be content with such a life?’

  ‘I don’t know. I wish to be useful and active, yes. But … ’ I hesitated. Then emboldened by the kind understanding in his eyes I continued in a rush: ‘I do long so for danger and excitement. More than I can say. Is that wrong of me?’

  He laughed quietly and shook his head a little. ‘How can I tell you it’s wrong, when it’s what I live and breathe myself? I turned down a career in the Church for this life, to my father’s undying disgust. But I don’t think you should be seeking your thrills in law-breaking. Quite apart from issues of right and wrong (and I never think they should be ignored) you will end on the scaffold that way.’

  ‘I know. I don’t wish to continue it. I wish … ’

  I paused, not knowing how to tell him what I wished. How could I explain that the weeks we’d spent apart had been unbearably empty? I blushed even to think of doing so. But something had to be said. In the end the words came out in a rush: ‘I wish so much that we could go with you. We might be able to help you again!’

  Mr Charleton was looking directly at me as I spoke and so I saw the changing expressions flit over his face. First his eyes flashed, and for an instant, I thought he was going to say yes, then they clouded and he looked down at his clasped hands. To my surprise, a little colour crept into his cheeks.

  ‘Sophia,’ he said, his voice hesitant and low. ‘It was wrong of me. Very wrong.’ He looked up, making an effort to meet my eyes, it seemed. ‘That kiss. I’m more sorry than I can say. It was the excitement, the relief of that moment that betrayed me into indiscretion.’

  This was a shock far greater than when he’d told me my father was dead. As bad as when I’d heard my cousin had gone. All this time, he’d regretted that kiss whilst I had treasured the memory. He didn’t want me. While I sat soaked in hurt and humiliation, Mr Charleton took my hand in his and clasped it warmly.

  ‘You see, Sophia, no matter what I may feel for you, no matter how I may wish things were different, I’m not in a position to be able to marry. I couldn’t support a wife. You may see a wealthy man when you look at me, but it’s an illusion; a smokescreen, to allow me to mingle with the people I spy on. Every penny my father has, and he’s not wealthy, despite his title, will go to my elder brother. I have my own way to make in the world. Besides
, I’m never in the same place for long. I move about, I disguise myself. You see … it is quite impossible. I’m sorry.’

  His words were sorrowful, but my own heart had been lifting as he spoke. I smiled up at him, feeling as though the sunshine had come out from behind the clouds.

  ‘But I don’t want to be married!’ I assured him. ‘I wasn’t begging for a husband! There’s nothing I want less. Why do you think I fled the Bath? Good grief, sir! Did you think I was longing to be raising children? I want exactly what you are describing. Adventure, disguises, uncertainty. And … to be working and travelling with you. For I do desire your company. I … I like you very well.’

  Perhaps I liked him better than I wished to admit at that moment. But it was true that I had no desire for wedding bells. I hadn’t even thought of that. All I wanted was to be with him. ‘Seriously, sir. Could Jenny and I not be useful to you? We can go to places and speak to people that you cannot. We wouldn’t cost you much. We can live simply.’

  Mr Charleton was frowning. I could see he was seriously considering it, and held my breath. The minutes ticked by in silence.

  ‘It’s often tedious work,’ he warned me at last. ‘At times it’s extremely dangerous. And as Aphra Behn is your hero and your model, you already know that the pay is erratic and at times non-existent. You too might end up in prison for debt, writing plays to survive.’

  ‘I know,’ I agreed, sighing with relief. He’d as good as given in now. ‘I’m prepared for all that.’ There was another long silence.

  ‘Sophia, what do you care about serving your king?’ exclaimed Mr Charleton at last with some indignation. ‘You barely know his name!’

  ‘No, but truly, I care about preventing the kind of unrest I saw brewing at the Bath. That was not the sort of excitement I enjoy. The rest I can learn in time, can I not?’

  ‘And your reputation? If you travel and work with me, it would be lost for ever.’

  I laughed. ‘Some time I’ll tell you about the things I did whilst I was at the Bath. I never cared that,’ I snapped my fingers, ‘for my reputation.’

  Mr Charleton was still holding my hand, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by me. He raised it to his lips now and kissed my fingertips, setting my heart pounding. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘This is a trial. We are friends and we need to trust each other. In future, our lives may depend on it.’

  I nodded, excitement racing through me at the thought of all that lay ahead.

  At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Jenny came into the room, neatly dressed in clean clothes and looking a little shy. I let go of Mr Charleton’s hand to jump to my feet. ‘Jenny, Mr Charleton says we may be spies too and work with him. Say you’ll come along!’

  Mr Charleton shook his head and laughed a little at my excitement. ‘I’m a fool,’ he said to himself. ‘There’s no doubt about it. Jenny, any picking of pockets without prior agreement, my girl, and it’ll be the worse for you.’

  ‘Is it true, sir?’ asked Jenny, puzzled.

  ‘It’s true if it’s what you want. And both of you please stop calling me sir! It makes me feel old, and I’m not. I think you should both know my name is Peter and please feel free to use it in private. As for our public appearances, I daresay we shall be using various names and identities … Good Lord, what have I agreed to?’

  ‘Very well, Peter,’ I said, ignoring his doubts and relishing the informality of his Christian name. ‘Where are we going first?’

  ‘You’ll have to give me time to think. You’ve just turned my life upside down.’

  ‘But in a good way?’ I asked tentatively, wanting to be sure he wasn’t regretting his decision.

  ‘Time will tell,’ he said but the warm smile that accompanied his words reassured me. ‘First of all I think we need to go back to the Bath. All your gowns and personal possessions are packed and stored with Mr Allen, and we shall need them.’

  I groaned at the memory of my hoops, petticoats, and high heels, but Peter held up his finger warningly. ‘No protests! I choose the manner in which you will assist me. There’s a certain man in London who’s causing us some grave concerns. He has a young wife who could possibly be befriended. Jenny, we could possibly get you a job within their household. What do you say? Are you both willing?’

  I looked at Jenny and saw her eyes gleaming with mischief. The possibilities were endless and utterly beguiling.

  ‘We certainly are,’ I replied.

  HISTORICAL NOTE

  The events of this story are based around the failed 1715 rebellion. During the summer of 1715, a large number of supporters of the Stuart heir to the throne gathered in Bath. Many horses were stabled outside the city and large caches of weapons and gunpowder were secreted in places like Slippery Lane. However, the rebellion was defeated before it really began, largely thanks to the vigilance of Ralph Allen, postmaster of Bath at that time, who is thought to have opened key items of correspondence between the rebels and reported them to the authorities. He worked with General Wade and as a result of their success he was given influence and power to reform the post office. This enabled him to make his first fortune which he used to open a quarry and market the sandstone of which almost all of Georgian Bath is built.

  A few of the characters in the story are real people—Beau Nash, Ralph Allen, General Wade, Aphra Behn, and Alexander Pope for example. Most are fictional, notably Sophia and her family and Peter Charleton. The story is a work of fiction, based only loosely on the real events mentioned, and the placing of gunpowder in the cellars of the Guildhall is invented. However, I have tried to give as accurate and full a picture as possible of the daily life in Bath at that time for the wealthy and fashionable who flocked there in the summer months.

  Marie-Louise Jensen (née Chalcraft) was born in Henley-on-Thames of an English father and a Danish mother. Her early years were plagued by teachers telling her to stop reading and stop writing stories and do long division instead. Marie-Louise studied Scandinavian and German with literature at the UEA and has lived in both Denmark and Germany. After teaching English at a German university for four years, Marie-Louise returned to England to care for her children full-time. She completed an MA in Writing for Young People at the Bath Spa University in 2005.

  Her books have been shortlisted for many awards including the Waterstone’s Children’s Book Prize and the Branford Boase Award.

  Marie-Louise lives in Bath with her two sons.

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