A Highwayman Came Riding

by Joan Smith

  “The servant said you had left! I was just—just leaving you a note?” she said in a breathless rush, ending on a betraying, questioning tone.

  “A billet-doux, no doubt,” he sneered. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Get out,” in a hard, cold voice. The same voice that had demanded they “stand and deliver.” He tossed the gun on the bed and stood, arms folded, waiting for her to leave.

  “All right! I’m going, but you need not mount your high horse with me, Captain. How can you expect us to trust you, when you are an admitted thief?”

  “I only stole diamonds. You have done worse.” He unfolded his arms and took a step toward her. The anger had left his voice, but it was still in his eyes, and in the frown between them. He spoke in low tones. “Last night you protected me. You let me believe you trusted me. You have stolen my—” His lips clamped shut, as if he had to force himself to hold in the fateful words. Marianne knew what he had been about to say. She had stolen his heart. His angry, wounded expression said it as clearly as words.

  “How can we trust you? You won’t even tell us your name. That’s really what I was looking for. We didn’t think you had the diamonds.”

  “What’s in a name?”

  “You have a pat answer for everything,” she said with a tsk of annoyance.

  “No more. I’m all out of answers.”

  “You didn’t find the necklace?”

  “I was just having a word with McGinty.” He rubbed the knuckles of his right hand, suggesting the words had been physical in nature. “He takes breakfast with his daughter, who lives in a cottage a mile down the road. I met him coming back, which is why I returned earlier than you expected. I am convinced he didn’t take the diamonds himself, but I wager he told one of his colleagues the duchess was here.”

  “Have you any idea who?”

  “I found out from Rooney who McGinty was drinking with after I relieved him of that bag of gold. I’m on my way to have a little chat with the fellow now.”

  “Thank you.” Marianne stood a moment, wanting to apologize, or clear the air between them in some manner, but she had little experience in dealing with beaux. “I’m sorry I hit you. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” She waited for him to forgive her.

  “I have a hard head, to match my heart,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  “I don’t think you have a heart at all.”

  He cast a long, searching look at her. “All men have a heart, even we thieves. I have heard a rumor even some ladies have one.”

  As he was being sarcastic, she pouted and said, “I had best go now.”

  “She told you to come?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get in? The lock isn’t damaged.”

  “I used my own key. It fits the lock.”

  He just shook his head. “I might have known. In the future, when you smash someone’s room, I suggest you determine first how long he will be away.”

  “Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind.”

  “Are you going to London now?”

  “Her Grace has every faith that you will find her necklace soon. She plans to wait and take it with her.”

  “Is she as horrible to live with as I think?”

  “I am all out of answers, too. I’m sorry, John.” His mood softened as she spoke his name. “About—you know, sneaking into your room when you weren’t here, hitting you.”

  “It would have been more enjoyable had you come last night when I was here. No need to tell Her Grace that our keys open each other’s door, eh?”

  She frowned as she considered the implications of this. Her fingers flew to her lips. “Oh!”

  “A wasted opportunity. Ah well, let us hope there will be more opportunities in the future. And now, before you have a heart attack, I shall let you go.”

  “I am one of those ladies who has a heart, am I?” she asked saucily.

  “A hard one, like my head.”

  “How hard it is won’t make any difference to Jack Ketch, though, will it? One thousand pounds’ reward.. .”

  “So you have been reading my clippings. They have to catch me first.”

  “If the duchess had known that last night when Officer Bruce called on her, I doubt you would be here now.”

  “Will you tell her?”

  “Of course not!”

  “You want the reward for yourself?” he asked, smiling to show he trusted her.

  “I’ll wait until it goes up to two thousand.”

  “It has,” he said. “Ancaster wields a big stick.”

  “Oh, John!”

  “Don’t worry, Marianne. I’m through with all that. You have convinced me my life is worth more than a couple of thousand pounds.”

  He held the door, chewing back a smile as she dashed out, peering over her shoulder to look back at him. She flew around the corner and to her own room. By the time she reached it, her frown had changed to a wary smile. She tried to remember at what point he had stopped being angry. It was when he had asked if the duchess made her go to his room. He had indicated before that he pitied her. Was that why he was sometimes friendly with her, because he pitied her? She didn’t want pity. But she did want John Macheath, and she wanted him before one of his “friends” turned him in for the reward.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was late afternoon before Marianne saw Captain Macheath again. The duchess had become restless as the afternoon wore on and he still had not come. She had a few moments’ pleasure ragging at the locksmith who came to fix her lock, but other than that, her complaints were all about the captain.

  “You are sure he knows who the scoundrel is who has my diamonds?” she asked half a dozen times.

  “He said he got a name from Rooney.”

  “I hope nothing has happened to him,” the duchess said, causing a new worry. “We would only deceive ourselves to think all the highwaymen are as civil as our captain,” she informed Marianne. That “our” had a very possessive sound to it. “Most of them would as lief put a bullet through their victim as not. We may count ourselves very fortunate to have been held up by an officer and a gentleman.”

  This confirmed that the duchess had succumbed to a new flirt. She was not exactly a laughingstock among her friends, but it was known that if she took a fancy to a handsome face, its possessor would soon find himself the object of her generosity, whether he wanted it or not.

  This generosity did not extend to financial help, however. It would take more than good looks to pry money out of her. Her assistance was confined to helping him make the proper connections, to finding a good position or a good wife. She was not at all lecherous. Marianne had long ago figured out these “beaux” were surrogate sons. The duchess had no sons. She had three daughters, all married long since and settled into motherhood— and in some cases, grandmotherhood.

  “How dark it is, for the middle of the afternoon. We shan’t get away today, Marianne. We must make an early start tomorrow. That will still allow us one day to rest before the wedding. I shan’t deprive you of your tour of London. We shall stay a few days after the wedding before going on to Levenhurst with Eugenie.”

  Eugenie was her eldest daughter, who made her home in Hertford, north of London. The duchess was to visit her for a week before returning to Bath. Eugenie’s husband was a Methodist. It was known that he conducted a prayer service for his household three times a day, did not believe in drink, and, if forced to dance, danced on only one leg. Marianne was not much looking forward to the visit, nor was the duchess for that matter.

  “Let us order dinner. It will help pass the time,” the dame said a little later.

  Dinner was ordered and soon arrived. The joint was condemned for toughness and the potatoes and peas for mushiness but both were consumed, along with a bottle of wine. Her Grace was just drawing out her cards when the tap came at the door. Macheath entered, looking hagged and somewhat battered, and still wearing his afternoon clothes.

  “A gentleman usually changes into ev
ening clothes after the sun sets, Macheath,” the duchess said. Fascination with a gentleman never had the effect of lowering her social standards.

  “I thought you would want to know about your diamonds as soon as possible, Your Grace,” he replied.

  Marianne knew he had not recovered them. When he turned his glance to her, there was no sparkle in his eyes, no mischievous grin. But as the glance lengthened to a gaze, his expression did soften to something like pleasure.

  “Well, where are they?” Her Grace demanded. “Hand them over.”

  “I don’t have them.”

  The noble spine stiffened. A haughty sneer settled on the duchess’s aged countenance. “I see. You have chosen to throw your lot in with the other thieves. Just what one might expect. Send for the constable, Marianne.”

  “Yes, do—if you never want to see the necklace again,” Macheath said, unfazed.

  The duchess squinted her rheumy eyes at him. “What does that mean, if anything?”

  “I have instituted a plan to recover it. McGinty has a fellow he works with, his name’s La Rue. He is the brains of the pair. Mind you, La Rue is no genius, either. I am convinced he has the necklace. I’ve searched his cottage. It’s not there, nor is he. He’s run to ground. The fence from London will be here on the weekend. It saves us taking our wares to London,” he explained. “That’s when La Rue will hand over the sparklers for a quarter or less of their worth.”

  “But they’re worth five thousand! You can’t expect me to pay a quarter of their value to get back my own necklace.”

  “That is not what I’m suggesting.”

  “If you mean to steal them when the fence comes, it will be too late,” the duchess said. “I want them for the wedding. I want them now.”

  “That was my first plan. I have another one, if you aren’t willing to wait. Unfortunately, there might be a little danger in it for you.”

  “I care nothing for that. Let us hear it.”

  “La Rue got your diamonds. They were sitting in plain sight.” The duchess glared at Marianne. “Seeing such a treasure, he may have just grabbed them and run. The room did not appear to have been searched. We might convince him you are carrying other valuables. If we could lure him back again, I would be waiting in your room to catch him. Then we threaten to call Bow Street if he doesn’t return the diamonds. He’ll agree to it.”

  The duchess didn’t hesitate a minute. “Done!” she said. “And Marianne and I will be here to help you.”

  “That will not be necessary, Your Grace. I can handle La Rue. When I said you might be in danger, I meant you would be next door, possibly exposed to some minimal risk due to a flying bullet. Though actually there is no reason you must remain in that room. You could use mine.”

  “I’m sure you are as brave as a pride of lions, Macheath, but even a trained soldier might be overborne by chance. You will certainly require some backup. We shall be right here, in this room, to give a hand if necessary.”

  “Miguel can help me.”

  “You are very anxious to be alone with La Rue and my diamonds,” she said, instantly suspicious. “I only know what you choose to tell me. For all I know, you may have recovered my necklace already and are now devising this scheme to lay the blame on La Rue. What is to prevent you from shooting him and going off scot-free with my diamonds?”

  His face stiffened in fury. His nostrils flared and his eyes glittered dangerously. He took two deep breaths to rein his temper before replying. “I am flattered at your assessment of my character, ma’am. If you wish to be here and risk dying of heart attack, then by all means stay.”

  “I shall,” she said. “Are you sure you can trust this Rooney fellow? He sounds like an Irishman.”

  “He is. What of it?” She did not reply to this taunt. “Rooney has helped me out in a spot before. He’ll see La Rue gets the word you are traveling with other valuables. He has no fondness for La Rue.”

  “La Rue might smell a trap,” the duchess objected. “You have called on me half a dozen times. He knows you and I are friends.”

  “Then he knows more than I do!”

  “He knows there is some association between us, was my meaning. Odd you should buck at a chance for friendship with a duchess. No doubt you would be happier if I were a light-skirt.”

  Macheath’s lips twitched in amusement. “We have different ideas of friendship, Your Grace. As to La Rue suspecting I am involved, I shall make a showy departure for London before nightfall and slip back into the inn after dark to join you here. I would prefer to wait until the fence comes, but as you are so eager—”

  “We’ll do it tonight. Now run along and get the plan started.”

  “I am on my way.” He cast a resigned glance at Marianne and bowed to the ladies.

  “The captain should eat first. He must be hungry, Your Grace,” Marianne said.

  “Aye, and dirty as well. A gentleman never calls on a lady in such a disgusting state. Wash up before you eat, mind. And don’t keep us up too late, Captain. We are leaving early in the morning. You will accompany us to London, of course, to prevent any further disasters.”

  Macheath stared at her in disbelief. “I have other plans for tomorrow.”

  “How are we to make sure the diamonds are safe, if we don’t have an escort?”

  “You should have thought of that before you left Bath.”

  “Well, upon my word! There is gratitude for you. When I perjured myself to Officer Bruce, Captain, it was understood you would see me safely to Grosvenor Square.”

  “It was not understood by me.”

  “It is up to you. It is not too late to report the matter now. Your posing as my nephew will not deter me. I had not seen Fitz-Matthew for aeons. I did not recognize at first that you were an impostor. Run down and ask Rooney to send the constable around, Marianne.”

  Marianne peered up at Macheath. The look they exchanged was not far from conspiratorial. They both knew the duchess was bluffing. His angry brow softened. “Perhaps if you ask me very nicely, I shall accompany you to London, Your Grace,” he said, but it was at Marianne that he gazed.

  The duchess reached out and jiggled his arm until he looked at her. “I won’t have you flirting with Marianne. She is a simple country gel who would only go imagining she is in love with you. And besides, she hasn’t a penny of dowry. You shan’t sit in our carriage. You must ride your mount along beside it. When the other thieves see we are accompanied by you, they will leave us alone. But keep your pistol charged, just in case.”

  “What time are we leaving?” he asked.

  “Early. I want to be off at first light. We shall meet belowstairs at eight-thirty. Hire us a private parlor. Now when we get to London, Macheath, I want you to call on Lord Philmont, at Whitehall. He is my nephew. I shall give you a letter of introduction and a character reference. He will put you onto some honest work. If you can keep your fingers out of other people’s pockets, I daresay you will get on. You have a decent jacket, and some address. Presentable bachelors are always at a premium in London. With luck, you might even nab some undemanding cit’s daughter with a few thousand dowry. I shall have a look about for one while I am there.”

  “You are too kind, ma’am,” he said, in a voice that suggested she was an interfering old fool.

  “That is quite all right,” she said, unoffended. It was beyond her comprehension that anyone could make fun of her. She was the Duchess of Bixley.

  “I won’t have you carrying on with low company until after you are married. Serving wenches won’t do your career any good. Do you have any politics at all? No, I thought not,” she said, before he could reply. “You are a Tory. The Tories have all the perquisites these days, since Prinny has changed his coat.”

  “I am a Whig,” he said. He bowed, winked at Marianne, and left.

  “Come right back and tell us what La Rue says!” Her Grace hollered after him. When he was gone, she turned to Marianne. “I like a spunky fellow. He will do fine with Phi
lmont. I shouldn’t be surprised to see him made a minister of something-or-other before he is through, if they don’t hang him first. Of course we will have to find him a seat in Parliament. Eugenie’s husband has a couple in his giving. Get my brush, Marianne. My hair is all tumbling about my ears. You might want to do something to your own toilette as well. And wipe that smirk off your face. You look like a simpleton.”

  Marianne removed the duchess’s cap and arranged her coiffure before going to her own room. She closed the door behind her, to allow privacy. She had been with the duchess all day and felt the need of solitude. Her mirror told her she was “in looks.” The glow in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks were becoming to her. She didn’t think Macheath thought she looked like a simpleton.

  How wonderful it would be if the duchess really could reclaim him and find him a position in London. London! Would she be living there one day? After he was established, would Macheath come and claim her? “You have stolen my heart.” That was what he was going to say, but pride prevented him. And he had stolen hers.

  She tidied her hair and picked up her manicure scissors to cut a fingernail that had cracked during her scramble out of the carriage yesterday and had been catching on her clothes. The one shorter nail ruined the symmetry of her hands. She took up a nail file to smooth the rough edges.

  She was interrupted by a light tap at the door and slid the file into her pocket. She opened the door to find Macheath in the corridor. “Are you alone?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yes. Come in.”

  He entered and began pacing the small room. “I am a little concerned about the duchess’s heart,” he said. “Do you think it is up to the excitement of the plan I suggested? She is old, frail. I never intended for her to be in the same room with La Rue.”

  “I am concerned,” she said at once. “I’ll try to talk her into staying in this room.”

  “With the door bolted.”

  “No, she won’t stand for that. She doesn’t really suspect you of those horrid things she said, you know. She just likes annoying people and knowing what is going on. She will be poking her head in to see what is happening every minute. Unless ...” She looked at him, reluctant to say what she had in mind. It seemed a betrayal of her mistress’s trust to suggest it.