Midnight Capers

by Rebecca King

  “To the Dog and Duck it is,” Hamish murmured with a grin before guiding his horse around Dean to pick out the narrow footpath that would take them down the hill and into the small village of Sprankley. He was six feet away when Dean overtook him and started to canter down the steep slope. His horse was used to travelling at night and so didn’t falter as he raced toward the low stone wall that led to the village and salvation. Within just a few minutes, and with Hamish right beside him, Dean’s horse clattered down the main street.

  Up ahead, a large vehicle that was heading toward them at a rapid trot suddenly turned into the stable yard of the tavern. By the time Dean and Hamish appeared in the entrance, a squabbling, bickering group of young women were disembarking from the aged conveyance. They were led by a rather indomitable lady who was dressed from head to toe in black and who had a pugnacious expression on her face. With her back rigid and her shoulders squared, she marched resolutely into the tavern as if ready to do battle while bellowing out orders to the gaggle of young women she left behind.

  “Come along, Francis, we can’t stand out here all day. Get that skirt up off the floor, you foolish girl. If you ruin it, I shall not purchase you a new one,” the matronly lady snapped, her voice fading as she disappeared into the darkened interior of the tavern.

  Amongst squeals of dismay and cries of horror, the three young women dutifully picked up their skirts and staggered, jumped, and sloshed, through the muddy yard as they hurried to keep up with their impatient matriarch.

  “She sounds like fun,” Hamish muttered as he handed the reins of his horse to a young stable hand. He studied the harried looking coachman who was peering at something under his presumably broken carriage.

  “It looks like they will be here for a while.” Dean shuddered theatrically and lifted his brows at Hamish. “Let’s hope the tavern has a private parlour for them, eh?”

  “I can’t see her propping up the bar, can you?” Hamish’s teeth flashed brightly in the gloom. His smile slowly faded, though, when he caught movement beside the carriage, and it was not the driver.

  As if forgotten, a rather striking looking young woman stepped down from the carriage as if unsure if she should. Unlike her screeching travelling companions, this young woman didn’t utter a word, or seem to mind the mud on her boots or that the ends of her dress were touching the ground. Instead, she murmured something softly to the carriage driver, who looked more worried than ever when he saw her standing beside him.

  “You had better get inside, miss. She will have a conniption if she finds you out here with me,” he muttered, sliding a worried look at the now closed tavern door.

  “She has forgotten about me, and will until she wants something fetching,” Pheony replied with an unconcerned shrug.

  “You will get a frightful scolding if she catches you out here,” Bert, the coachman, warned.

  Pheony pursed her lips and looked sad. “I am going to get a frightful scolding anyway.” She rather suspected that Bert wouldn’t be interested but said: “The only time Augusta ever talks to me is when she wants to scold me for something. I doubt she has ever had anything good to say about or to anybody in her entire life.”

  To her surprise, Bert nodded. He waved to the carriage. “This is going to take some time to get fixed. I can stay up and try to get it done, but the blacksmith’s forge won’t be open until the morning. You had best tell her that we aren’t likely to be able to set out again until after luncheon tomorrow.”

  Pheony didn’t relish being the one to have to break that piece of news to Augusta, but someone had to.

  And I am going to get a scolding anyway so I may as well ruin her plans.

  Carefully removing her bag from the veritable mound of luggage strapped to the back of the carriage, Pheony turned to face the tavern. It was then that she noticed two tall, somewhat dusty gentlemen standing beside the door. She had no idea what it was about them that had captured her attention. It might have been the fact that they were both extremely tall that made them stand out amongst the rest of the busy yard. At well over six feet, and with lithe yet powerful builds, they were striking and exceedingly handsome. There was something about the sharpness of their gazes, their sense of capability, that warned her they weren’t ordinary travellers. They were too scruffy, too dirty, to be rogues or dandies. They weren’t secretive or sly criminals either. They didn’t swagger or look at people as if assessing the size of their coin purse. Instead, there was an air of calm practicality about them both, but rather than being reassuring, both men looked incredibly sinister.

  “Whoever you are, you are dangerous,” Pheony muttered aloud.

  Just as the second and tallest of the duo was about to step into the tavern, he hesitated in the doorway and slid a cautious look around the stable yard as if looking for danger. For a brief, infinite second, his gaze lingered on her. Pheony had no idea why she should feel as if she should cover herself over, or step instinctively back into the shadows to protect herself, but she did. Thankfully, after one intense yet dismissive glance, he appeared to decide that she was of little interest and promptly disappeared inside the building.

  Pheony huffed a sigh of relief when he had gone, but only relaxed for a second. She jerked upright in shock when, from the depths of the interior of the tavern, Augusta screeched: “Pheony!”

  “You’re in trouble,” Bert grumbled, looking worried. “You need to hurry.”

  Pheony muttered an epithet under her breath, something she wouldn’t dare do in front of Augusta. “She probably wants me to carry the luggage in, order room service, secure her a parlour, or unpack her things while lighting the fire and serving her dinner at the same time.”

  “I don’t know why she doesn’t just pay you for being her personal maid and be done with it,” Bert muttered as he studied the small pouch of tools beside him. “For what you do for that woman you may as well be her sodding housekeeper.”

  Pheony grinned at him but didn’t dare delay entering the tavern any longer. But as she stepped into the warmth of the tavern, Pheony was struck by how little she cared about what Augusta wanted. She was more interested in looking for the strange men. Besides, she didn’t need to look for Augusta to know where she was. As usual, the commotion Augusta caused wherever she went left Pheony in no doubt that Augusta was in a rather small private parlour at the back of the tavern. As usual, Augusta was complaining and trying to bully the inn keeper into moving her to a larger room.

  “But this room is tiny. I demand you correct it at once, do you hear? You cannot expect me to pay to use something like this. Why, I have never heard of anything more preposterous.”

  The inn keeper stood his ground. “This is the only parlour we have available, madam. There is another travelling inn if you want to try there. They may have something else you can use that is to your liking.”

  “Where is it? I demand to know where it is at once, do you hear?” Augusta demanded.

  Pheony felt her cheeks heat. It was embarrassing that she was connected to someone who was so openly rude.

  “It is about three miles down the road, madam. The King’s Arms may have a parlour free for you,” the inn keeper replied dismissively, clearly not caring if Augusta did leave.

  “We can’t travel anywhere,” Francis cried. “Our carriage is broken.”

  “Do you have any carriages available for us to borrow?” Augusta asked.

  “I am afraid not, madam. We don’t loan customers carriages.” He backed out of the room when Augusta began to object to his inability to accommodate her demands.

  “Sorry,” Pheony whispered when the beleaguered looking inn keeper swept past her. He flicked her a rueful look but didn’t reply.

  “Pheony, where are you?” Augusta demanded dourly, raising her voice again to a loud screech. “Oh, where is that stupid girl? She is always dawdling. It would serve her right if we left her behind one day.”

  I wish you would.

  As she entered the room, Pheony’s
fingers curled around the small pouch of coins in her pocket. She couldn’t use them to buy much of anything, but they were her life savings. She had to make the best use of them just as soon as the right opportunity presented itself to her.

  It must be while I am here.

  All Pheony could do was pray that she had the courage to go through with her plans. She hadn’t had much time to think the finer details through yet but had a few hours to make sure that she had all eventualities covered. When the opportunity to escape appeared, she was going to make a break for freedom before the lack of it broke her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Where have you been?” Augusta demanded as if she hadn’t already seen Pheony standing in the doorway for the last couple of minutes. “I have been calling you for hours. What do you think you are doing wandering off like that?”

  “I see you have managed to bring your own bag in,” Sophie sniped.

  She reached out to snatch Pheony’s bag off her but Pheony tugged it out of the way and held it behind her back. Pheony knew that Sophie would take delight in rummaging through Pheony’s belongings, mocking what she had brought before upending the lot on the floor for everyone to see. Sophie had done it many times in the past.

  But not this time.

  This time, because Pheony had no intention of staying with them any longer she had no qualms about defying them all.

  “Well? Why have you not brought our bags in?” Francis demanded, peering down her long nose at Pheony as if she was smelling something offensive.

  Pheony glared at her. “Bert is bringing all your travelling trunks in because they are too heavy for me to carry.”

  “Get us another parlour. This will never do,” Augusta demanded, clicking her fingers repeatedly at Pheony as if she were a servant and needed to hurry.

  Pheony stubbornly remained where she was. “The inn keeper has already told you that he doesn’t have anywhere else. He cannot just make a room for you.”

  “Well, I suppose I should have known that you would side with him,” Augusta huffed.

  “There are no sides, Augusta,” Pheony replied. “The inn keeper doesn’t have any other space in the tavern available. He has just told you. It doesn’t matter how much you harass him. He cannot offer you anywhere else if he hasn’t got anywhere else to put you.”

  “Go and see.” Augusta glared darkly at her, silently warning her that there would be dire consequences if she didn’t do as she was told.

  With a heavy sigh, Pheony dutifully left the room. She knew that arguing with Augusta would never get her anywhere but rather than going to find the inn keeper, Pheony took a quick tour of the busy tavern instead. She needed to find good places to hide and different ways out of the building that she could use without being seen.

  I am going to make my escape tonight no matter what it takes.

  Pheony ventured into the busy tap room. She felt uncomfortable and on edge and expected everyone to stop and look at her the second she appeared in the doorway. But nobody in the busy tap room paid her the slightest bit of attention. The loud hum of conversation didn’t wane as she stepped into the smoke-filled room. The inn keeper didn’t bother to glance up as he poured flagons of ale. The maids weaving their way through the tables didn’t even glance her way as they carried drinks to tables and empty tankards back to the bar.

  Now what do I do?

  Pheony studied the backs of the two men at the bar and recognised them immediately as the two curious men she had seen in the stable yard. They were deep in conversation with their heads close together and didn’t notice her standing in the shadows watching them. She wasn’t sure why they were so intriguing to her. They were attractive but otherwise just the same as everyone else. It was only when Pheony listened to the muted conversation around her that she realised why she felt compelled to keep watching them.

  “I hear they are Star Elite,” one man hissed to his drinking companion seated across a battered table they were sharing.

  “Aye, I know they are. They aren’t someone you would want to meet on your way home in the dark, that’s for sure,” another man mumbled.

  “Do you see those guns on them?” A woman hissed, sounding impressed. “You don’t go around carrying those unless you are either magistrate’s men, the Star Elite, or have a lot of enemies.”

  “Ralph doesn’t seem all that bothered about them,” the first man muttered, pausing to sip at his ale. “If they were trouble, he would have thrown them out by now.”

  “They aren’t causing anybody any trouble.” The woman’s voice softened as she said: “They are handsome, aren’t they?”

  “That makes them trustworthy, does it?” the second man grinned.

  The woman chuckled and swiped her tankard off the table and took a long, very unladylike gulp of ale. The robust way she drank the dregs and slapped the empty tankard back onto the table before her before emitting a loud belch made Pheony’s brows shoot up. While appalled, she knew that it would be wonderful to be so liberated. The woman seemed to think so. She had absolutely no airs or graces about her but was oddly appealing because of it.

  I wish I could be like that.

  But Pheony knew that if she remained where she was, she would never be allowed to be that free. Right now, she wasn’t even allowed to be herself, even without the bad manners.

  Augusta rules with an iron thumb, which isn’t all that bad because it stops her daughters going too far with their spiteful antics. The problem is, I can’t breathe when I am around her.

  Of late, Pheony had struggled to find the will to get out of bed and face each new morning. As soon as consciousness returned, she spent a few moments blanking out all her thoughts and feelings so she could get through each day as a mere ghost of who she should be. She left her bed chamber with dread making her tread heavy and her shoulders droop. Tension was her companion now, and bitter regret at how her life had turned out.

  All because of the bullying spite of a trio of spiteful young women and a mean guardian.

  It was in the back of Pheony’s mind to call Augusta a hag, but that seemed churlish and uncharitable. While her kinder side conceded that Augusta had given her a roof over her head and made sure that she hadn’t starved ever since her father had died over six years go; the lack of ability to be herself and simply live life removed the benefit any benevolence Augusta had shown her.

  “Face it, my life is no longer mine. Augusta has gotten into the habit of bullying me to get whatever she wants, and thinks it is all right because she has the money and freedom while I am stuck under her roof. She uses gratitude as a weapon against me because I am being forced to live under her roof.” When a now familiar hatred of Augusta began to well from deep within, Pheony forced herself to think of something else. But as she glanced around the tavern in search of something to take her mind off her problems, her gaze was inevitably drawn back to the two men at the bar, the Star Elite.

  As Pheony watched, the inn keeper refilled their tankards as he passed. He then left them with the ale jug. She wondered how the men were managing to stand upright because that was the third time the inn keeper had refilled their drinks in the space of the last half hour. It was difficult to comprehend how a man could drink so much ale and still be able to talk but the men were still deep in conversation about something. Pheony’s gaze lingered on the man who had studied her in the stable yard. She knew his scrutiny of her had nothing to do with masculine interest. No man had ever paid her the slightest bit of attention because she could only be called ‘passable looking I suppose’ as Augusta put it. While Pheony usually put most of Augusta’s demeaning insults about her down to pure spite, she knew that August was right when it came to her looks. Augusta’s cutting criticism had been proven to be accurate by every man Pheony had ever crossed paths with. Most gentlemen she met acknowledged her with a bow and a brisk, impersonal smile if they had to acknowledge her at all. The real fawning and bowing, smiles and joviality, amiable conversation, and friendliness, was
reserved purely for Augusta’s daughters, Sophie, Francis, and Carlotta. Pheony had ceased to exist.

  “Like now,” Pheony muttered, unsurprised that she still went unnoticed by everyone in the tap room even though she had been standing beside a table for several minutes. “I may as well be a ghost.”

  Forcing her melancholy thoughts aside, Pheony forced herself to study the doors on either side of the bar. They both appeared to lead to a storeroom because the inn keeper kept going through either door and came back out with barrels of ale, bottles, and clean tankards.

  It would be fine to hide in, but there might not be a way out of there aside from those two doors.

  Beside the busy tap was an entrance hall though. From where she was standing, Pheony could see the corridor which led to two private parlours and the tavern’s kitchen at the back of the building. In the opposite direction were two wooden doors leading to the main street.

  I can’t use the stable block to leave or hide. The stable hands will see me.

  Leaving via the front door seemed to be the only option.

  In disguise I should be able to sneak out of the front doors and blend in with the locals.

  Pheony lingered in the tap room for a few more minutes while she tried to decide what disguise she should wear. She didn’t have much clothing with her but what she had might help her hide.

  “Pheony!”

  Pheony flinched and felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment when Augusta’s muffled screech interrupted the conversation within the tap room. Many patrons fell silent. Others whispered. A few tried to listen to what the woman in the private parlour was shrieking. Somewhere at the rear of the tavern, a door slammed. Everyone waited for someone to appear in the tap room doorway and demand to know where Pheony was, but when everything fell silent again the otherwise muted conversation returned to normal volume.