Highwayman's Hazard

by Marina Oliver

  Sarah danced listlessly with several more partners, hoping that the Captain had been wrong and Sir Charles was still in Harrogate and intending to appear that evening. As time wore on, however, she gave up hoping and concentrated instead on wondering how she could contact him again if it was true he had left the town. This would prove difficult if not impossible, and she was deep in thought when an unknown man approached her.

  'Miss Sarah Coombes?' he asked, and she nodded listlessly.

  'We have not met, I think?'

  'My name does not matter, but I have a message from Sir Charles Orde.'

  'Sir Charles? Where is he?' she demanded, her eyes suddenly lighting up.

  'He is outside. He refused to come in, saying he was still in riding dress, but he begs you will give him the favour of a few words.'

  'Of course. Where is he?'

  'In the courtyard. He has just ridden in, I understand. Come, I will escort you through the hotel the quickest way.'

  He led her swiftly along the dark passages and down a short flight of stairs, and at the bottom opened a small door which gave onto the stable yard. Sarah looked about her eagerly, but although a couple of lanterns hung on the wall she could see no one. A travelling coach stood in the middle of the yard, loaded with baggage, a postillion standing at the horses' heads, but there was no sign of Sir Charles.

  'Where is he?' she demanded, suddenly suspicious.

  'I expect he has stepped into the stable. Let us go and see,' her companion said soothingly.

  'I will wait here while you go, if you please,' she said sharply, stepping back into the doorway.

  Before she could turn about or even cry out she felt strong arms seize her round the waist. A hand clasped her mouth and she was lifted off her feet and carried across the yard, then thrown onto the seat of the carriage. As she tried to struggle to her feet and regain her breath her captor imprisoned her hands again, and as she opened her mouth to scream he thrust a rag into it.

  She tried to spit the gag out while struggling to free her hands, but she was soon overpowered and her hands were tied tightly behind her back. Meanwhile the coach had been set in motion and was being driven rapidly away from the hotel, downhill she judged, towards the lower part of the town.

  'How desolate Sir Charles will be to discover you have returned home,' a triumphant voice said, and Sarah fumed impotently. She could not even answer, but now she knew her assailant was Sir Gilbert Woodford, and she berated herself for having been so foolish as to trust his messenger. 'He will be even more desolate, I suspect, when he learns you have become my wife.'

  *

  Chapter 10

  Sarah fumed impotently and longed to be able to tell the presumptuous Sir Gilbert just what she thought of him. She cursed the gag in her mouth more than the bonds about her ankles. For some time she was so furiously angry she had no thought to spare for aught else, and did not consider the danger she might be facing. All she wished for was the power to castigate the man who had tricked her so despicably for the poltroon and coward he was.

  The coach rattled on through the darkness over rough, ill kept tracks, and Sarah lost all idea of time. Sir Gilbert appeared to be asleep in the other corner of the coach, for he did not speak and his breathing was slow and regular.

  Hours later, or so it seemed to Sarah, the coach halted and Sir Gilbert stretched, yawned, and clambered out. They were at some building, an inn, Sarah guessed, and a lantern was casting light around the coach. Nearby Sarah could distinguish a pair of horses, saddled and clearly eager to be off.

  After a few quick words with the coachman Sir Gilbert turned back to her.

  'Come, my dear, we must travel on horseback from this point. The roads in the valley are too poor for this vehicle.'

  He pulled Sarah towards him, and although she tried to resist she was helpless. Laughing at her futile attempts to kick him he swung her out of the coach and up onto the horse nearest them. He sprang up behind her and began to follow another man who guided them with the help of a lantern.

  'I have a Minister awaiting us, and a licence,' he remarked affably. 'I do not intend to be thwarted this time as I was with dear Clarinda. However, I think I may have done better to choose you, my love. I understand your fortune is superior to that of your little friend. Besides, you have much more spirit and it will amuse me to bring you to heel.'

  Sarah glared at him, and wondered miserably how long she was to be jolted in this most uncomfortable position perched on the front of his saddle. She turned away her head, sickened by the gloating tone of his voice, and tried to guess from what little she could distinguish in the faint rays thrown by the lantern what manner of country they were passing through.

  To the side she thought she caught the occasional gleam of water, and she became convinced they were following the same road along the Nidd valley as when they had pursued Clarinda. He must intend to take her to his house.

  She began to think of what he had said, and the first tremor of fear passed through her. Could he, as he had said, force her to marry him? It was a common practice for marriages to be celebrated privately, but surely the parties had to be willing? The Minister he had spoken of would refuse to conduct the ceremony when she made it plain she did not wish it.

  For a while she felt more hopeful, but as the long and painful ride continued, and the faint rays of dawn crept over the rim of the valley, Sarah's spirits drooped.

  *

  'We will soon be home, my love,' Sir Gilbert said with mock solicitude, and she tossed her head.

  He laughed unfeelingly. Sarah recognised the village of Ramsgill which they passed through soon afterwards, and tried to remember the paths they took, for she was determined to make her escape as soon as possible.

  'Home, Sarah. At least, until we remove to The Hermitage. I always liked it better than Forleys. I wonder I did not devise this scheme earlier. Ah, here is my dear aunt to welcome us. I have brought her, you see, despite her maidenly reluctance.'

  He removed the gag from Sarah's mouth and she licked her dry lips, unable to speak and give vent to her feelings after the lengthy time she had been silenced.

  'Well, have you no greeting for my aunt?' he asked mockingly.

  'You devil!' Sarah managed to croak as he slid from the saddle and lifted her to the ground.

  She would have fallen, she was so stiff, had he not kept his arms about her, and seeing this he picked her up and carried her into the house.

  'She needs a drink,' Mrs Woodford said calmly, and Sarah found a mug of cool milk held to her lips.

  She would have liked to have refused, but realised that if she were to escape, or at the very least defy the villain who had her in his power, she needed all her strength and wits about her.

  She drank the milk and thought nothing had ever before tasted so good.

  'Take the bonds from her hands, she cannot escape us,' Sir Gilbert ordered, and his aunt silently undid the knots to release Sarah's arms. For some time she could barely move them, but was eventually able to sit at the table and feed herself while the others sat with her and breakfasted.

  'It was easier than I anticipated,' Sir Gilbert boasted. 'She fell for the old trick, and since Sir Charles had ridden out of Harrogate earlier she was only too pleased to have a message from him. Well, my dear, the next time the gallant Sir Charles meets you he will address you as Lady Woodford.'

  'You count your chickens too soon,' Sarah, now able to speak, told him caustically. 'I will never take that hated name.'

  'No? You will be given it, this very morning,' he said calmly.

  'I cannot be forced into marriage,' she replied angrily. 'I shall deny it and charge you with abduction as soon as I can find a magistrate. You are despicable, a cheat and a rogue, and I very much doubt whether you can with truth claim your title! If it is really yours you have dishonoured it a hundred times!'

  He seemed unmoved, and sat watching her while the old lady cleared the table.

  'The Minister has ea
ten in his room,' she said as she brought a large book from a cupboard in the corner of the room.

  Sarah saw it was a Bible, and looked at Sir Gilbert scornfully.

  'You would blaspheme?' she asked bitingly.

  'I intend to wed you,' he replied. 'I will fetch the Minister. Remain here with her.'

  Mrs Woodford sat down opposite Sarah, fixing her with an unwinking stare. Sarah, once she heard Sir Gilbert's footsteps on the stairs, began to rise. She could outrun the old woman. She was much stronger, especially now she had eaten, and would be able to get out of the house and either find a horse to gallop away or hide in some of the outbuildings.

  Sarah pushed at the arms of the chair where she sat. Why could she not get up? Suddenly her legs felt heavy and at the same time too weak to move. Then as she struggled to push herself away from the chair the same helpless feeling attacked her arms, and she sank back against the chair.

  'What is it? What have you given me?' she asked, and her voice was weak and the words almost inaudible.

  'You need not fear poison,' Mrs Woodford answered. 'I am more skilled with herbs than to harm you. A distillation of my own, hemlock and basil mainly, sufficient to make you drowsy, but the effect wears off swiftly.'

  Sarah made a desperate attempt to rise, but her limbs refused to obey her, and her head began to spin. She had the sensation of falling towards the floor and tried to cry out, but no sound came from her. As if from a great distance she heard Mrs Woodford walk across to the door.

  'She is ready now, Gilbert. Bring down the Minister.'

  *

  Vaguely aware of movement inside the room Sarah tried to look round. She felt a hand on her shoulder and sensed, rather than saw, a man standing on the far side of the table.

  'This is rather unusual, Sir Gilbert,' a strange far-off voice said gravely.

  'The child is ill and pursued by evil enemies who would harm her,' Sir Gilbert replied smoothly, and Sarah tried to cry out against the lies he told.

  'No, it is untrue,' she attempted, but clearly no sound came from her lips as Sir Gilbert went on without pausing.

  'I would give her the protection of my name, be in a position to defend her, and have my aunt here given the right the nurse her back to health.'

  'Yes, you did explain. She does indeed look sick. Well, I will not delay and then she can be taken care of as you wish.'

  With her limbs helpless and her lips unable to form intelligible words Sarah could do nothing but endure the nightmare mockery of the ceremony now conducted in that isolated farm parlour. The Minister mumbled the words of the marriage service as rapidly as he could, never looking directly into Sarah's eyes when, with a supreme effort, she opened them and pleaded silently toward him. Sir Gilbert held her hand solicitously, and Mrs Woodford and a giggling maid were the only witnesses.

  When the time for her own responses came Sir Gilbert looked at her triumphantly, and behind Sarah Mrs Woodford touched the back of her head, forcing it down in a gesture the Minister quickly took for consent. He babbled on, and Sir Gilbert forced a ring onto Sarah's nerveless finger, and at the conclusion of the ceremony bent over her and kissed her on the lips.

  She writhed inwardly, but had no strength to turn away from that loathsome caress. He laughed and turned to thank the Minister who was clearly anxious to be gone. Sir Gilbert walked with him to the door and a few moments later Sarah heard the sound of his horse's hooves growing rapidly fainter.

  Mrs Woodford had moved to stand in front of Sarah, and was eyeing her carefully. She looked up across her shoulder as Sir Gilbert returned.

  'What do you propose doing now?'

  He walked to Sarah's side and lifted her hand, letting it fall limply back into her lap, for she was unable to control her muscles.

  'I will ride at once. I have a coach awaiting us near Ripon and we can drive straight to The Hermitage. I need to establish my rights as soon as possible.'

  The woman nodded, and Sarah, helpless but fully understanding what went on, and grateful for the respite such a journey would give her, was carried out of the house and once more lifted onto the saddle in front of Sir Gilbert.

  'There's no need to tie her hands, she will not trouble you for some hours,' Mrs Woodford said, and Sir Gilbert nodded curtly.

  'My thanks for all your help. I will contact you soon in London. You have made arrangements for your journey?'

  'I shall travel in style, Sir Gilbert, after your generosity. Do, I beg of you, permit me to aid you again if it proves necessary. It has been a most interesting experience, although I would not care to live in this bleak country for long.'

  He laughed. 'Neither would I, Tabby, but it has its uses.'

  *

  He touched the horse with his spur and moved out of the yard, taking a path leading away from Ramsgill over the wild hills towards the east. They travelled on for two or more hours, avoiding the few isolated houses. Sir Gilbert chatted amiably, sometimes about the future life he anticipated living comfortably on Sarah's fortune, sometimes describing to her the places they passed, such as the oddly shaped stones named, no one knew why, Jenny Twigg and her daughter Tib. Gradually Sarah felt the strength seeping back into her limbs, but she tried to disguise this, hoping she might find some opportunity of escaping.

  She could scarcely believe this man who held her closely yet impersonally, and whom she detested, was her husband.

  However strange the marriage she had been forced into, she concluded it was almost certainly legal. Sir Gilbert would have made sure of that. He would have rights over her inheritance and over her body. She repressed a shudder. Would he demand her compliance when they stopped that night? She prayed she would have recovered sufficiently to fight him, for she was determined not to submit to his lusts. Surely he could not compel her? There would be help at any inn where they halted. He could not bind and gag her there, and she would be able to beg assistance.

  Cheered by this reflection she unthinkingly raised her hand to push some of her wildly tangled curls out of her eyes when the wind blew them across her face.

  'Aha, so you are recovering?' Sir Gilbert asked quickly, and Sarah silently cursed her stupidity.

  'You are a devil,' she whispered. 'You'll not triumph for long though. You cannot guard me for the rest of my life.'

  He chuckled. 'For long enough, my dear, until I have your fortune and your son. Then you may do whatsoever you please. No one will aid an insubordinate wife.'

  Bleakly Sarah reflected he spoke truly. Wives who left their husbands and children were outcasts, scorned and condemned, whatever the reason for their actions. She would have to escape him before he could establish his claims over her.

  Soon after that Sir Gilbert turned aside from the track he was following and rode towards an isolated building standing at the crossing of two small roads. It turned out to be a small, evil-looking alehouse, an untidy stable yard behind. In the yard there stood a light fast coach with a pair of horses already harnessed.

  'Good, we'll set off immediately,' Sir Gilbert said as he swung down from his horse. Before Sarah, stiff from the ride and the effects of the drug she had been given, could resist him he had secured her hands, lightly but firmly, behind her back. He lifted her into the coach and after a few words with the coachman climbed in after her.

  'Where are we going?' she demanded.

  'We drive straight to The Hermitage, my dear.'

  'But – it will take two days or more,' she said blankly.

  'You may sleep in the coach. We shall drive through the night. I have no wish to lose you through the intervention of some meddling innkeeper.'

  *

  The miserable journey continued. They halted for food in concealed clearings in the roadside woods, and Sarah was permitted to wash once in a nearby stream. When they had to halt at inns for changes of horses Sarah was gagged and had a large concealing cloak tucked about her. There was never a moment in which she could try to escape. She would have to rely on Aunt Nell, although
her assistance would probably be of little use. Possibly some of the servants who had known her all her life would come to her aid. If only she could escape for long enough to tell her story she might find some protection.

  Encouraged by this hope, and longing for the journey to be over so that she could attempt some action against her detested husband, she watched the towns impatiently. They drove eastwards at first towards York, presumably to avoid Harrogate and Knaresborough where there could have been a risk of being recognised, then south.

  Sir Gilbert leaned back in his corner and appeared to be asleep, waking only when they paused to eat or change horses. The rest of the day wore on, darkness came, and still they maintained the headlong pace. Sarah's thoughts dwelt on Sir Charles Orde.

  Had she imagined those words of his when he had told her of how he had almost offered for her? What would he think now? Already he was angry at her deception although he had misunderstood the reason for it. Now he would despise her even more, and she would be unlikely ever to have the opportunity of explaining to him the true course of events.

  She blinked back an angry tear. Why had she not realised earlier she was in love with him? Why had she been so taken up with Clarinda's affairs she had thought his remarks about not wishing to live on his wife's fortune had been a reference to Clarinda rather than her own supposed lack of fortune?

  Thinking back over their whole association she realised her enjoyment of the time spent in Sir Charles's cottage had been largely the stimulation of his presence, rather than the mere novelty of their situation. She had been happy in Harrogate because of his nearness. She had felt no embarrassment at the thought of the night they had spent together, part of it with her clasped in his arms, because it had felt so natural, so right and inevitable.

  That was all past. He had been angry and gone away from her. She could never explain. She could not offer to give away her fortune for it was no longer hers, but belonged to the abominable wretch she had been forced to marry. Even if he would have believed her explanations she was unlikely ever again to meet him, and if she did, she thought bleakly, he would be cool and supercilious and polite, as he had been after his scathing denunciation of her supposed motives.