The Highwayman's Daughter

by Henriette Gyland

  ‘What makes you so sure he’ll have you?’ asked one of the other girls. ‘Rich people marry their own kind.’

  Mary ran her fingers through her hair and then tied her bonnet under her chin with studied care, the way a lady might do. ‘Money isn’t everything,’ she said confidently. ‘These fine families need fresh blood from time to time. They can’t keep marrying simpering milksops all of them. And there’s love too.’

  Cora couldn’t resist. ‘Oh, is that the kind of love which lands you with a child in your belly and nothing for your trouble?’

  Mary sent her a look of irritation. ‘Well, if it isn’t Miss High and Mighty, who thinks herself above marrying any man. Are you suggesting that I’m not good enough for the likes of him?’

  ‘Not me.’ Cora shook her head. ‘It’s the likes of him that are saying you’re not good enough.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that. I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life toiling in the fields all day with barely enough to live on.’

  ‘You’d best keep your voice down, Mary,’ said the other girl warningly, ‘lest you want his lordship hearing you speak out of turn.’

  ‘Pah,’ Mary spat, but she said nothing further on the subject.

  Despite Mary’s arrogance Cora couldn’t help agreeing with her. The labourers worked hard, and in the summer months they were provided for well enough, but in winter it was difficult to keep starvation at bay, especially for those with a large family to feed. She and Ned were luckier than most, living in the forest, where there were plenty of berries, herbs and wild onions to be found, and a rabbit from time to time, but others were not quite so fortunate.

  And nothing Cora found in the forest could help pay for Ned’s medicine.

  Kit Heston kept eyeing Cora, much to Mary’s chagrin. ‘You been makin’ eyes at him behind my back, Cora Mardell? Of all the underhanded …’

  ‘Calm down, Mary. I’m not interested in young Master Kit in the least.’ Cora tried her best to sound soothing and sincere. It was the truth after all.

  ‘Oh, yeah? Well, seein’ as how you’re blushing, you must have your eye on someone else then. Changed your tune, ’ave you?’

  ‘I am not blushing.’ Cora sent the other woman a furious look, but this only confirmed to the sharp-eyed Mary that she had hit the nail on the head. Which she had, but not in the way she imagined.

  It wasn’t the fine looks of Lord Heston’s eldest son which danced in Cora’s vision like a demon and made her breath catch in her throat, but a different face altogether. Chiselled features, an arrogant countenance and a naked chest through an open shirt. But a man like that would be even less likely to look twice at someone like Cora. He’d been an aristocrat through and through, no doubt about it, and Cora disliked them intensely. They all thought themselves above ordinary people, but by what right? None that Cora could see. She’d yet to meet one she could admire, young Master Kit included. Nothing would make her marry a man like that, no matter how handsome he was.

  Ignoring the ribbing from the other women, Cora fought to calm herself. She hoped she never met the man from the coach again. At the same time, she couldn’t deny that the thought of seeing him one more time, preferably unarmed, was a tantalising one.

  It was also impossible and she’d do better to forget the whole thing.

  The Earl of Lampton was an early riser. Although exceptionally privileged by birth, Jack’s father did not believe in an idle aristocracy, and almost every day before breakfast he and the estate manager would take a morning tour of the stables and parts of the estate, discussing the day’s work and what needed doing. Afterwards he would either be engaged in further conversation with the manager, in his study poring over the estate accounts, or corresponding with friends in the Lords.

  He also attended parliament when it was in session. His spare time was spent with his horses, his dogs, and his wife – in that order.

  Jack took a keen interest in matters relating to the estate as well and often accompanied his father on his morning tour. When he wasn’t in town trying to keep an eye on his cousin, of course.

  Sighing, he pushed open the door to the breakfast room. If Rupert continued to spend at this rate, he could ruin the estate’s finances – and Jack and his father had worked too hard for him to allow that. Jack couldn’t understand why his father turned a blind eye to Rupert’s faults, but if Lord Lampton wouldn’t try and control him, Jack would have to, for the sake of the estate and all those who relied on it. What irked him most was that the earl seemed unconcerned, almost as if he refused to see that his young cousin’s conduct was becoming a genuine problem.

  Jack wasn’t surprised to find his hard-working father already seated in the breakfast room enjoying a plate of cold meats, freshly baked white bread and a jug of ale. What did surprise him, however, were his father’s first words.

  ‘I heard you and Rupert were robbed last night. I trust you have recovered from the ordeal?’ Although the words were spoken languidly, with his habitual restraint, the earl couldn’t hide his concern.

  Jack smiled ironically. ‘News travels fast,’ he said while he helped himself to coffee from a silver urn on the sideboard and a plate of ham and eggs.

  ‘I spoke with Josephs this morning. The man had a serious fright. After all, he was the first person to have a pistol pointed at him.’

  Josephs, the coachman. Of course. Jack should have known his father would have heard of the episode almost before it had come to an end. In fact, he would hear of any episodes involving his son and Rupert for as long as his loyal servants were present.

  ‘And I had a rapier at my throat,’ said Jack, irritation prickling between his shoulder blades. Too late he realised how churlish he sounded. No doubt his father’s informants had told him that too, and if he had chosen not to mention it, most likely it was because it was obvious that Jack had come to no harm.

  ‘Yes, so I hear,’ commented the earl drily. ‘Why didn’t you stay at the town house? You’re welcome there any time; you know that. Or you could have stayed at your club.’

  Jack sat down in front of him. ‘I didn’t want to open up the house just for one night, and as for staying at the club …’ He paused knowing that his next words would likely vex his father. ‘I thought it best to get Rupert out of town for a spell. The gaming tables were proving to be too much of a temptation.’

  ‘And since when have I appointed you to be his nursemaid?’

  ‘Since you let him loose in London to squander away the family fortune,’ Jack retorted and met his father’s eyes.

  The earl’s eyebrows rose. ‘Harsh words. Surely it hasn’t come to that yet?’

  ‘Perhaps not yet,’ Jack conceded.

  ‘So let me get this straight. Instead of letting your cousin lose a few harmless guineas in a den of iniquity, you both suffered losses because of a common thief?’

  Hardly harmless, thought Jack, recalling the large sums changing hands. The highwaywoman had merely taken off with the dregs. Yet he felt himself flush at the rebuke. ‘Yes, that about sums it up,’ he snapped. ‘Clearly I acted without proper forethought.’

  ‘Steady on, son. I was merely concerned for your safety. Most people are aware that travelling across the Heath at night is bad for your health, but perhaps that piece of information passed you by? Remember what happened to poor Lady Heston? Both you and Rupert need to take the threat of highwaymen seriously and not go travelling late in the night. I’ll make sure I remind him of it too. You could have been killed.’

  ‘Fortunately it didn’t come to that.’

  ‘Fortunately indeed.’ This time the corners of the earl’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

  Jack returned the smile although inwardly he sighed. He was aware that his father made allowances for Rupert because he had lost his parents at a young age, but it still rankled that he was often taken to task for it and not Rupert. However, he had too much respect and affection for his father to let this develop into a full-scale argument
.

  The earl seemed to share this caution. ‘Enough on the subject. After my cousin died, I swore I would see his children right, and I have no intention of going back on my promise. Rupert will soon settle down once he’s sown a few wild oats.’

  Jack nodded, although he didn’t share his father’s confidence. He sensed a recklessness in Rupert to which it seemed the earl was turning a blind eye. A wild streak bordering on ruthlessness, even, well-hidden behind the convivial exterior of an aloof and somewhat foppish man-about-town.

  While he ate, he regarded his father surreptitiously. The epitome of a perfect nobleman, the earl was dressed in a white cambric shirt, pale yellow waistcoat and dark breeches. His coat of fine red wool had been slung carelessly over the back of a dining chair, and he was leaning back in his seat with one arm resting on top of the coat. His once jet-black hair was now a courtly pewter, cut short for the ease of wearing a wig when formalities required it, but his brilliant blue eyes had lost none of their lustre to age.

  Not for the first time did Jack marvel at their different looks; with his own brown hair and hazel eyes he knew he favoured his mother, Lady Lampton. Even Rupert’s hair was black, as was Cousin Alethea’s.

  ‘Presumably you’ll be speaking to the magistrate,’ said the earl, interrupting Jack’s train of thought.

  ‘I’ll ride into town later, although there’s scarcely any point. The robber will be long gone by now.’ Jack made no mention of the wager, knowing full well that his father would turn it against him and not Rupert, and he was certain that Rupert, when he finally resurfaced from the night’s revels, would not mention it either.

  ‘And you had a rapier at your throat, you said?’ the earl continued. ‘Quite an alarming experience, I should think.’

  Jack finished his breakfast and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. ‘Not one I wish to repeat, although I think it may have been an idle threat.’

  ‘How so?’

  Jack hesitated. If he told his father the thief was a woman, the magistrate was likely to get wind of it too, even if Jack didn’t tell him himself. And that would spoil the fun of tracking down the woman. He was aware that withholding information may not be the noble thing to do, but he was determined to win that wager with Rupert.

  ‘The highwayman was a young boy,’ he said instead. ‘Something tells me he didn’t have the nerve to run me through.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ The earl sounded doubtful and studied Jack with a pensive look. ‘I see you’ve lost your queue. Did this young robber have anything to do with that?’

  Jack’s hand flew to the nape of his neck and he muttered a curse. Having been so preoccupied with what he could remember about the highwaywoman, he had given scarce attention to his looks this morning, but his father’s comment reminded him that the highwaywoman had shorn him like a spring lamb. Devil take the wench! Suddenly it became doubly important that he win the wager against Rupert; he was going to teach that girl a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.

  The earl laughed. ‘Looks like this young boy managed to best you.’

  ‘For the time being.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ the earl said.

  ‘What? Where?’ Jack was confused by the sudden change of subject.

  ‘To the magistrate’s. This is a serious matter.’

  Jack was annoyed at the apparent lack of faith in his abilities, but how could he refuse without sounding churlish? He shrugged.

  Just at that moment the countess appeared. As always Jack was awed by his mother’s youthful looks. Her peaches and cream complexion was flawless, her waist still trim despite motherhood, her bearing straight. The only testament to her years was her grey hair, which she wore high and powdered in place of a wig. This morning she was dressed in an apple-green day gown with lace spilling from the sleeves, a white fichu at the neck, and she held a black straw hat with a matching ribbon in her hand. Her spaniel, Pepper, an elderly white and tan female, was trudging along beside her.

  ‘Am I interrupting anything?’ she enquired in a soft, throaty voice which spoke of her gentle breeding.

  The earl kissed his wife on the cheek. ‘Good morning, Lady Lampton. I trust you slept well?’

  ‘I’m quite well,’ she replied but her eyes were on Jack. ‘You seem … different. Oh, your hair! A drastic trim?’

  Jack sent her a wry smile. ‘Rupert and I were held up last night, on the Heath. For sport, the highwayman cut off my queue.’

  ‘Goodness.’ The countess paled and sat down beside him, her pretty hazel eyes deeply troubled. Jack hoped the shock didn’t bring on another of her headaches; she had them often, and it worried him. ‘But that’s terrible; you could have been hurt. Are you hurt?’

  ‘Only my dignity.’

  The countess reached out to put a slender hand on his arm, but then, as if suddenly realising he was now a grown man and too old for such a show of motherly affection, she brought it to her throat instead. ‘This cannot go on. Something must be done about this brigand. I hear such horrifying accounts.’

  ‘Alice,’ the earl entreated, ‘you know better than to listen to idle chatter from the servants.’

  ‘Not just the servants, husband. There’s talk in the town. People are frightened.’

  ‘Rest assured, something will be done. Jack and I are just on our way to see the magistrate. Would you be very much distressed, madam, if we postponed our morning walk?’

  Seemingly recovered from her initial shock, the countess sent her husband a tight smile. ‘Not at all. Seeing the magistrate is far more important. But how very kind of you to ask.’

  Jack looked from one parent to the other. He’d always marvelled at their harmonious relationship. He had even modelled his own ideas of matrimony on theirs, but this was the first time he sensed that perhaps they were being too nice in their dealings with each other. Perhaps it had always been there and he’d only just noticed. But what to make of it?

  ‘I’m sorry, Mother, if this causes you any inconvenience.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said the countess. ‘I shall walk with Alethea instead. No doubt she will make sure I get my exercise.’ With that parting comment she glided back out of the breakfast room with the spaniel at her heels.

  Raking was thirsty work, and before long Cora was reaching for her flask. Despite the sensible neckline and the long sleeves of her dress, small particles of dried grass had worked their way through her clothes, and she was itching everywhere. Finally, when the sun was high in the sky, the labourers retreated to the edge of the field to take their lunch in the shade of the trees. Sitting with Ned and the others on a large fallen tree trunk, Cora took off her bonnet and enjoyed for a moment the sensation of the light breeze caressing her sweaty neck.

  Horses’ hooves pounded on the lane, and she turned to see who was approaching. Lord Heston and his son seemed to have sprung to attention and hastened towards the newcomers. Cora hid a sneer – another nobleman and his offspring, these two even more hoity-toity by the look of it. The older man sat stiff in his saddle as if he’d had a poker rammed up his backside, and the younger one—

  She stifled a gasp. Dear God. No, it couldn’t be! She bent down and pretended to be looking for something on the ground while she quickly put her bonnet back on. Surreptitiously she glanced over her shoulder. It was him, she was sure of it. The man from last night, shorn hair blowing in the breeze. But how had he found her so quickly? She trembled violently and had to steady herself against their makeshift seat.

  Stay calm, she thought. He can’t possibly know. He didn’t see you, a woman, he saw a young lad. She should get away from here. She had to—

  But there was nowhere to go. If she ran, it would look strange and possibly rouse the man’s suspicion. If she stayed, he might recognise her. She could only hope that by keeping her head lowered, he wouldn’t think to notice her. Resolutely, she stayed close to her father and kept her eyes averted.

  ‘It’s a fine day, is it not?’ said a voice nearby and,
startled, Cora glanced up despite herself.

  The man had ridden up to their small group and was addressing Ned and some of the other workmen kindly. Everyone rose, and she curtsied with the other women, but he waved his hand as if he didn’t think the gesture necessary.

  ‘Indeed, sir,’ Ned answered politely. ‘As fine as they come.’

  ‘Looks like you’ll be able to finish the wind cocks today.’

  Although he was speaking to Ned, the man’s eyes seem to roam over the little group, but when Cora looked up, and their eyes met very briefly, she could see nothing in his expression to indicate that he recognised her. Quickly, she lowered her head, making sure her bonnet shielded most of her face.

  ‘Yes, sir, I reckon we will,’ Ned replied.

  The man and Ned spoke for a few more minutes, mainly about the weather and matters relating to this year’s harvest. Emboldened by the fact he hadn’t recognised her, Cora risked another glance at him. This time he looked directly at her, ignoring the others, and something in his eyes – a flirtatious twinkle and slow appraisal of her person – had her insides tied in a knot. Blushing furiously, she looked away.

  The man regarded their group for a moment longer; then smiled and tilted his hat. ‘Well, I wish you all a good day.’ After one final long look at Cora, he rode away.

  On shaky legs, Cora sat down on the tree trunk again, but not before she had caught the look in Mary’s eyes and a ribald gesture from the girl next to her indicating a big belly. Annoyed, Cora moved closer to her father with gossip already ringing in her ears. There was no doubt the man, whoever he was, cut a dashing figure, but to come this close to someone she had recently robbed reminded her that what she was doing carried a real danger. If someone were to uncover her identity, she’d end her life on the gallows, no question about it. Swallowing hard, she glanced at her father.