‘Our bargain was that you would let him go free,’ said Charity. ‘If you do anything to harm him, I shall make sure that everyone knows what has gone on here today—do not forget how popular I am, Phineas.’
‘But not for long. You are the audience’s favourite at the moment, but how long do you think that will last, a year, two? Pah! They will have forgotten you by the winter. Then no one will give tuppence for your accusations.’ He continued softly, ‘And I think it is time you started calling me Father, don’t you?’
‘Never!’
He laughed. ‘No, perhaps it is a little late for that. Then it must be “sir”. What think you, madam wife?’
‘She should call you “master”,’ declared Hannah. ‘After all, she is nothing more than a servant now and should be treated as such. I shall have an attic room prepared for her. With a lock on the door, in case she thinks to give us the slip in the night.’
‘I have given you my word,’ said Charity coldly.
‘And you have signed yourself over to me,’ added Phineas, holding up the paper. ‘I think now perhaps you should write a little note to Sir Mark, explaining that you have seen the error of your ways and decided to come home to your loving father and stepmama.’
She shuddered at the thought, but she sat down at the desk and pulled a sheet of paper towards her.
‘I should write to Hywel Jenkin, too,’ she said. ‘He will need to cancel my benefit night at the end of the week.’
‘Benefit night?’ said Hannah. ‘What is that?’
‘It was a special performance he was going to put on, where all the proceeds would come to me.’
‘Well, you are giving up the stage,’ Phineas told her. ‘Your days as a symbol of lust and wantonness are over. From now on it will be a plain gown, and as for your hair—’ He reached into a drawer and pulled out a large pair of scissors.
Charity’s blood ran cold as he advanced towards her. Hannah laid a hand on his arm.
‘Wait, my dear, let us not be too hasty. This...benefit night, how much does it make?’
‘What?’ Charity could not take her eyes from the shears clasped in her father’s hand. ‘Oh, it varies. A full house could bring in several hundred pounds.’
‘Husband, I think we should let little Charity perform her benefit, do not you?’
Phineas shook her off.
‘The theatre is an abomination,’ he raged. ‘It is a den of vice and iniquity. My daughter shall never again—’
‘Yes, that is all very well,’ replied Hannah tartly, ‘But the proceeds would go some way to pay for the cost of keeping her here.’ She paused. ‘She might also announce to the audience her retirement and repentance for her wicked life. Think of that, Phineas, a public admission of her sin. All of Allingford would know of it, and a goodly proportion of Beringham people would be there, too, I have no doubt.’
Charity felt sick at the very idea, but she was watching Phineas put the scissors back in the drawer.
‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘A very public renunciation of the theatre, from its principal player. I shall write your farewell speech—’
‘You shall not!’ retorted Charity angrily.
‘Very well, I shall oversee it,’ he conceded, ‘but you will include a few lines of my choosing. And before you refuse, madam, reflect that it will give Durden more time before I levy hue and cry against him.’
Charity bit back a furious retort. A few extra days could make all the difference. At best it would give Ross’s friends time to act upon the letter she had written out. At worst, Ross could be safely out of the country by then.
* * *
‘Well, my dear, this is it. Your final performance.’
The curtain had just gone up and Hywel was standing in the wings with Charity. The past few days had been agonising. Phineas had allowed her to return to Allingford to rehearse and put her affairs in order. There had been no news of Ross and, although she did not believe he would desert her, Phineas’s declaration that he would save himself and leave her to her fate remained at the back of her mind. After all, even if Phineas was charged with treason, Ross would still have to stand trial for highway robbery, if he came back.
When she had told Hywel she was giving up the stage and putting him in charge of all her properties and her money, he had been so astounded that she had ended by telling him everything.
‘At most it will only be for seven years,’ she said, trying to make light of it. ‘I should be thankful that neither my father nor his greedy wife considered that I might have funds of my own, or they would have made me sign those over to them, as well as making me their servant.’
‘If you think Phineas Weston is a spy, you should take your information to Sir Mark Beverley,’ he had told her furiously. ‘There is no need to put yourself through this.’
‘He could not act on the contents of one letter, which is not even in my possession,’ she explained. ‘And although the evidence against Ross is equally insubstantial—more so, in fact—Phineas would make sure he was hanged. I could not allow that.’
Now, as she heard the familiar opening lines and prepared to make her appearance on the stage, Hywel squeezed her fingers and gave her a pitying smile.
‘You are giving up all this for a highwayman?’ he murmured. ‘We should be repeating Mr Dryden’s tragedy tonight.’
‘All For Love or the World Well Lost?’ Even through her sadness Charity managed a smile. ‘Not at all,’ she said, holding her head high. ‘I shall leave my audience with the memory of laughter, not tears.’
* * *
The cheers, shouts and stamping would not stop. Charity made her curtsy again and again, and she brought back the rest of the cast to share the applause, but in the end she was left alone, centre stage, to say goodbye. She looked past the limelight and saw the flash and glitter of a bejewelled costume in the box nearest the stage. She knew it was Hannah, overdressed for the occasion as usual. She and Phineas had insisted upon coming to Allingford to watch her humiliation. Well, this was her world. Phineas might control her words, but not their delivery. She straightened her shoulders. Nothing she did now would help Ross. She could only pray that he was safe.
She began by thanking Mr Jenkin and her friends in the theatre. Then she expressed her gratitude to the people of Allingford for their kindness and generosity.
‘And those of Beringham, too!’ shouted someone from the benches.
‘Of course.’ She smiled. ‘You have made my time here such a pleasure and I shall remember you always. Because this is to be my last performance.’
There were gasps and cries from the audience, a muttering that swelled to a roar of disapproval. Charity put up her hands for silence.
‘Please, my friends, I am most gratified by your reaction, but it must be.’ She began to speak the words her father had insisted upon and that she had sworn upon her honour to repeat. That she had sinned to show herself so brazenly on the stage, to allow men to lust after her body. That the plays encouraged fornication and lewdness and should be denounced by any true Christian.
The audience went quiet as the oration continued, listening to her with growing uneasiness. Angry mutterings began to run around the auditorium and someone from the pit called out, ‘This ain’t you, my dear. You don’t mean what you’re saying.’
She recognised the voice as that of her leading man, Will Stamp, and glancing down she saw that there were people standing in the aisles between the benches—people who looked suspiciously like her fellow players, although they were dressed in the rough clothes of working people. A woman ran forward, a shawl thrown over her head. It was the actress who earlier that evening had played Mrs Malaprop.
‘Aye,’ she shouted now, ‘she’s been bullied into this!’
Her heart swelled at their support, and it gave her courage
to finish her speech.
‘I am returning to my father’s house,’ she concluded, raising her hand towards the box where Phineas and Hannah were sitting in regal splendour. She drew herself up, curling her lip and declaring with all the derision she could convey, ‘My father, Phineas Weston, Justice of Beringham. An honourable man, committed to bringing God’s will to this land!’
Her voice rang to the rafters and was followed by a stunned silence. Peering past the flare of the limelight, she could see Hannah and Phineas leaning forward and smiling, her irony quite lost upon them.
‘Weston’s tyranny more like!’ cried a man from the benches, jumping to his feet.
‘He won’t succeed in Allingford!’ shouted another.
‘No! By God, he can’t browbeat you into leaving us!’
The protests were growing. The wrathful audience turned their attention away from the stage and began ranting at the box.
Charity slipped into the wings. Hywel was waiting for her.
‘Did you plan this?’ she said, catching his hands. ‘I fear you may have caused a riot.’
‘I could not let the audience think you were doing this willingly.’ He hurried her to her dressing room. ‘Quickly now. I have a coach—’
He broke off when he saw the three men waiting outside her dressing room.
Sir James Fryton stepped forward and made a bow.
‘Ah, Mrs Weston. Hutton, Keldy and I are here to escort you to your father. Good thing he arranged it, for the crowd is rather boisterous tonight, what?’
* * *
Lights were blazing from the magistrate’s house in Beringham as Phineas Weston’s elegant travelling coach pulled up at the door. Charity ignored her father’s hand as she alighted from the carriage and walked into the house with her head held high. Her nerves were at full stretch. She had spent the journey from Allingford crushed into a corner of the carriage while Phineas and Hannah gloated over their success, but beneath their smug laughter Charity felt the animosity growing and she wondered just what horrors awaited her.
Hannah led the way into the study and ordered Charity to take off her cloak.
‘Hmm, very nice.’ Hannah snatched if from her and threw it around her own shoulders. ‘It will do very nicely for me, since you will not be needing a satin-lined wrap in future.’
‘And just what have you in mind for me?’ asked Charity, shocked by the hatred in the other woman’s glare. ‘A sackcloth gown, perhaps, or a hair shirt? And am I to sleep amongst the ashes?’
‘It would be no more than you deserve,’ growled Phineas, coming into the room and closing the door. ‘But my wife is inclined to be merciful.’
‘Yes,’ added Hannah, although there was nothing merciful in the poisonous look she gave Charity. ‘You shall be my personal servant. I thought of putting you in the kitchens, to help the scullery maid, but then who would know how low you had fallen? No, it is better to keep you with me, so that when we have visitors or when I am out of doors, others might see your disgrace.’
‘As you wish,’ said Charity. ‘But it is past midnight, can we not continue this tomorrow?’
‘We will discuss this whenever I choose!’ snapped Hannah. ‘And you will address me as “madam” in future, and with a curtsy. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
Charity’s head snapped back as Hannah slapped her cheek.
‘Insolent girl!’
‘It seems my daughter is still very proud, and “led away by divers lusts”.’ Phineas pushed her roughly down onto a chair. ‘She needs humbling.’
Charity cried out as he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so that she was forced to stare up into his savage, cruel face.
‘Fetch me the scissors, wife. Let’s see how proud she feels once her head is shaved like any doxy!’
She protested and he put his hand around her throat, squeezing tightly.
‘“Let a woman learn in silence”,’ he snarled. ‘“I suffer not a woman to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence”.’
He released her. Charity struggled to breathe and fought off the encroaching blackness. She would not faint.
‘Here.’ Hannah handed him the scissors. ‘Cut off her hair, Phineas, but cut it at the root, the wig maker will give us good money for such fair locks.’
He was tearing the pins from her hair, all the time muttering texts from the Bible. Charity felt the familiar, shuddering terror freezing her blood, just as it had when she was fourteen, and she had sobbed, cried and begged for mercy. He had given none then and there would be no mercy now, especially not with Hannah at his side, urging him on. Summoning every ounce of courage, she threw herself out of the chair and ran behind the desk. Phineas lunged for her, his fingers missing her by inches.
As he came after her she grabbed the lectern and sent it crashing down across his path. He tried to jump over it, but the heavy Bible caught between his legs and brought him to his knees. It gave her the precious seconds she needed to reach the window and throw up the sash. She tried to recall what she had seen from this window when she had come to the house in daylight. A high wall, but not too high to be scaled, although her skirts might be a hindrance, but before that there was the drop into the yard. Twelve feet, fifteen perhaps, and she was likely to break a leg in the fall.
‘Stop her!’ screeched Hannah, helping Phineas to his feet. If she was going to jump, it must be now.
Phineas came roaring forward and made a grab for her just as she swung herself over the sill and dropped into the darkness below. Her heart had time to lurch up into her mouth, but no more. Instead of the bone-cracking jolt of hitting the ground, she found herself caught in a pair of strong arms. There was a grunt as someone took the full weight of her fall and she heard a dear, familiar voice mutter, ‘Faith, sweetheart, must you be always escaping from windows?’
Chapter Twelve
‘Ross!’ With a sob, she threw her arms about his neck. ‘What are you doing here?’
Steadying his breath and uttering up a prayer that she was not hurt, he set her on her feet.
‘I’ve just arrived from York with a party of officers to arrest your father. We came to the back of the house to make sure there was no means of escape and saw you at the window. When I realised what you were going to do I thought I should try to catch you.’ His arms tightened. ‘Foolish girl, you might have broken your neck.’
‘I had to get away.’ She shuddered against him. ‘They w-were going to c-cut off my hair.’
He buried his head in the heavy locks falling over his hands, breathing in that subtle fragrance that was all her own. He loved her hair, but the idea of her risking her life to save it brought the rage boiling up.
‘Your hair will grow again, but your neck would not mend, little idiot!’ Immediately he regretted his harsh tone and held her close. ‘Ah, love, forgive me, it is not you that deserves my anger. Come along, let us go into the house. The true villains should be under arrest by now.’
* * *
Charity was thankful for Ross’s strong arm supporting her as the men with him forced the door into the house and they made their way up the service stairs. Anxious servants were pushed aside and two men detailed to round them up and explain what was happening. When they reached the main floor, raised voices could be heard in the drawing room. Ross held her back as the others surged towards the door.
‘If you would rather not—’
‘No.’ She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘I want to see this through, Ross. I am no longer afraid of Phineas, not anymore.’
They went in to find the magistrate standing in the middle of the room, his wrists shackled, and Hannah slumped on the sofa, sobbing quietly.
‘Ah, so this is the young lady you told me of, Ross.’ One of the officers limped towards her, smiling. ‘Captai
n Armstrong at your service, madam. Thanks to your efforts we have stemmed this flow of secrets out of the country.’
‘So Phineas was spying.’
‘Yes,’ affirmed Captain Armstrong. ‘The Admiralty had set up an embargo around Yarmouth and was watching the coast for signs of anyone trying to send information out of the country, but they only made cursory checks on the cross-country mail, and no one questioned the mail sent to a magistrate in Beringham, innocuous family letters that attracted no attention at all until you spotted the discrepancies, ma’am.’
‘I don’t understand,’ put in Phineas. ‘What has she to do with this?’
‘Mrs Weston memorised that last letter you received from your supposed brother,’ said Ross. ‘She knew it was lies, that you have no family.’
‘But how did she see it, when—?’
‘When she came to see me,’ said Hannah, slowly. ‘The witch inveigled her way in here and I left her alone in the study. But only for a moment. Phineas, I swear it was no more than five minutes.’
Secure with Ross at her side, Charity spoke up.
‘That was all I needed. I wrote it all out as soon as I could.’
‘And Durden brought it to me.’ Captain Armstrong grinned. ‘The navy can move fast enough on land when it has to. That letter was sufficient for us to arrest the French spy in Yarmouth, and enquiries at Filey soon revealed the fishermen who were carrying the information to France.’
‘So even in this you defy me.’ Phineas glared at Charity, his face suffused with rage.
She met his look boldly. ‘Especially in this. But why should you help the French? Why would you betray your own people?’
‘My people? Hah!’ Phineas spat out the words. He began to pace the room, speaking almost to himself. ‘This is a godless country. I have known for years that England is beyond redemption. Soon it will be consumed by the fires of hell and Bonaparte will be the means of it.’ He stopped and glanced at the incredulous faces around him. ‘You do not believe me? It was Bonaparte who reestablished freedom of worship after the Bourbon king had suppressed it. Bonaparte will ensure that the papists will no longer rule France, nor any of the countries under his dominion.’
At the Highwayman's Pleasure Page 22