How the Hangman Lost His Heart

by K. M. Grant

  Alice peered cautiously out of the window. “I was right,” she said, and did not try to conceal the triumph in her voice. “There are no dragoons around here. Lazy creatures.”

  “They do their job,” said Dan, still unforgiving. “Do you know, sometimes they’re given oatmeal instead of silver as their pay?” He peered out of the window too. “And some of them don’t even like oatmeal,” he hissed very close to Alice’s ear.

  She opened her mouth, then thought the better of it. Anyway, there was no time, for as soon as Bunion climbed off the box they had to take their chance. Slipping out of the carriage as lightly as they could, they skittered across the yard with Uncle Frank’s head swinging in its bag, then in through the back door of the house, taking refuge in alcoves and storerooms until they were clear of the servants’ quarters and in the main hall. From here, Alice had hoped to spirit Dan directly up the stairs to her room.

  But unfortunately Lady Widdrington was waiting. Thoroughly excited by both Alice and Dan’s appearance at the wiggery and her new, magnificent hairpiece, she was calling for supper and minstrels. “Alice!” she cried, “Alice, and your friend, whose name I forget! Go around the square and gather everyone up. While you are doing that, I shall find out if there is an officer or two among those men in handsome uniforms who are hanging around the railings. Maybe a major, or even a general? Perhaps they have already heard of my new wig and that’s why they are here.” She began to hop over to the door, but found the back of her skirts trodden on hard.

  “No, Granny, no!” Alice’s voice was a squeal.

  The old lady started to dislike her granddaughter’s tone. “Alice dear,” she said icily, “this is my house and I shall do what I like. Ursula! Ursula!”

  There was a pause. Alice and Lady Widdrington glared at each other until Ursula clacked down the stairs, her own wig awry and her expression dazed. She had been tucked up in bed asleep. When she saw Alice, she opened her mouth to scold, but when she saw Dan, she gulped, for although his clothes were scruffy, his air of rough gentility was, to Ursula, quite irresistible. “Oh!” she said, smoothing her nightgown. “Hello!” And she sidled across the room.

  “Ursula!” Lady Widdrington squawked her disapproval. “This man is not for you. He’s, er, he’s a, oh dear, he’s something—” Alice tried to help, but her grandmother ignored her. Then her face lit up. “He’s the children’s new dancing master. Isn’t that right, Alice?”

  Alice edged Dan nearer to the stairs and nodded. “That’s right, Granny,” she agreed, not meeting Ursula’s eye. Her hair stood on end when she thought of what her aunt would do if she knew the truth or guessed what was in the wig bag. “He’s our dancing master.”

  Lady Widdrington grew quite gay. “And we are to have a gavotte before bed,” she cried. “I once danced the gavotte at court in France.” She touched her sinewy throat, remembering the diamonds that had sparkled there when it was smooth and white. “My partner, a count no less, told me I was exquisite, exquisite.” She began to tap back and forth, her small feet like a pair of antique beetles. “Do you hear that, Ursula? Has any man ever thought you exquisite? Perhaps a blind man?” She held her arms out to Dan. “Now, come, man, come.”

  Dan stood his ground. “I can’t dance and I’ll not be made an idiot,” he muttered to Alice. “Let’s collect what we came for and get out of this madhouse.” He turned and put one boot on the stairs.

  “She’s not mad, she’s just forgetful,” Alice muttered back, trying to smile at her grandmother, who was clearly displeased at Dan’s reluctance. “She’s not trying to make a fool of you, Dan Skinslicer, but I’m afraid—oh dear.” Alice held her breath.

  Lady Widdrington had forgotten her gavotte. She was, instead, gazing beadily at the wig bag now tucked under Dan’s arm and, before Alice could blink, had darted across the room and grabbed at it. There was a brief struggle, with the result that the bag went bowling across the floor, leaving Dan with only a tassel. Quick as a flash, he set off in pursuit, Lady Widdrington skipping in front of him. She reached the bag first and Dan did the only thing he could think of: he picked the old lady up bodily and parked her, like a rag doll, on the table. Then he snatched Uncle Frank back and, with Alice right behind him, belted up the stairs.

  Immediately the old lady set up a mewling, thrumming her heels on the tabletop. “The man’s a thief! He’s stolen my new hair! Stop him! Stop him!” In her confusion, she had quite forgotten that her new wig was not actually in the wig bag but safely on her own head. “Send for Bunion. Send for Frank! Catch him!”

  Ursula, who had been standing, slack-jawed, was now galvanized into action. Running to the front door, she threw it open and appeared, a skeletal apparition in yards and yards of crumpled lace. “We have a thief,” she cried theatrically. “Come, men, come and save us.” The dragoons stared, incredulous.

  A voice came from behind. “Gather your weapons, men!” It was Hew Ffrench, sent to oversee the night watch. “You heard the lady.” And with six troopers behind him, he ran inside.

  “Up the stairs,” Ursula commanded, stretching out an arm and throwing back her head in a posture she associated with goddesses, “he’s run up the stairs.”

  Hew set off and the troopers clanked faithfully after him.

  Alice heard the jingle of swords and was in agony. “Hurry, hurry!” she urged Dan as they fled along the passages, blowing out the lamps as they went. There was no time to find a decent hiding place and the dark was their only hope. “We’ll go to my bedroom,” Alice panted at last. “I’ve a huge wardrobe. It’s worth a try, and anyway, I can’t think of anywhere else. Hurry, Dan Skinslicer, hurry.”

  She pushed Dan through an open door, locked it as quietly as she could, and bundled him into the wardrobe among all her dresses. Clutching the wardrobe key, she dived under her bed. It was a silly hiding place, she knew that, but the door was already being tried and Captain Ffrench was already shouting that the thief had better open it or he would batter it down. Noises of battering followed soon after. Alice lay there, trying to quiet her breathing. The floor was foul and she could feel it alive with creeping things. One began to crawl up her nose but she didn’t dare move to brush it away. Against her cheeks, soft balls of fluff drifted and sticky dust soon coated her lips. She tried not to breathe, but it was no good. The dust followed the creepy-crawly up her nose and, just as her bedroom door splintered, she sneezed. It was such a powerful sneeze that her head jerked upward and hit hard on the wooden mattress slats. Only a person made of stone could have avoided yelping and Alice was not made of stone.

  In a minute, Hew Ffrench was on his knees, dragging her out and shining a candle in her face. When he saw that, far from a thief, it was Alice, he was completely disconcerted. “You!” he exclaimed. Then he was angry. Why on earth had Alice come back here? She must have known that it was the most dangerous place in town. He had imagined her well away by now. He turned to his men, whose swords were drawn and raised. “Sheathe your weapons,” he ordered. “This lady’s not a thief.”

  “She is,” said one of the dragoons insolently, peering down and instantly recognizing Alice, despite her dirty face. “As you well know, Captain Ffrench, she’s the reason we ’ave to stand out there in the street instead of enjoying ourselves in the tavern.” He turned to his fellow troopers. “Here’s that wench as stole that traitor’s ’ead from Temple Bar. She must ’ave crawled in ’ere when we wasn’t lookin’.”

  His fellow troopers hooted with excitement and were all for marching Alice instantly away. But then Aunt Ursula appeared in the doorway, tutting with annoyance. “That’s not the thief, that’s Alice,” she announced, exasperated. “The thief was a man. A big person, much bigger than Alice.” She had visions of Dan being taken and then saved from hanging by her eloquence. He’d have to marry her then. But first he had to be found.

  “No,” Alice insisted to Hew. “There was nobody else. Aunt Ursula just wants you to think that because she doesn’t want you to take m
e away. There really was nobody else. Just think about it. No man would risk being hung as a thief for something as silly as a wig.” Ursula was affronted. “There was a man,” she said, “a fine-looking man, and I think it very selfish, Alice, to keep him to yourself.”

  Alice stamped her foot. “There was no man, Aunt. Or only in your dreams. Go back to bed.”

  “What nonsense.” Ursula grew more and more dogged. She now eyed Captain Ffrench from handsome top to handsome toe. “He was a strapping man built of logs,” she said, touching her lips to see if there was any rouge still on them. “That’s what he was. He must be in here somewhere. Please catch him, or I shall be too afraid to do anything except stand quaking in my nightgown.” She gave a girlish smile and showed off surprisingly trim ankles. But Hew never saw them for he was trying to stop Alice from attacking two troopers who were heading for her wardrobe. Quietly but deftly, he pinned her arms to her sides. When the troopers carelessly wrenched off the wardrobe doors, she was beside herself. “It’s very rude, Captain Ffrench,” she shouted, writhing as hard as she could, “to search among a lady’s clothing. It’s really very rude.”

  Hew regarded her as she defied him. He was not thinking of her wardrobe. “Now we have found you, we must arrest you,” he said sorrowfully. “You are guilty of stealing a traitor’s head. Do you understand what the penalty is for that?”

  Alice would not let her eyes drop, but she found that her voice had become quite small. “Yes.” She shivered pitifully, then turned the shiver into a more matter-of-fact shake. “Leave this silly search and just arrest me now. I’ll come with you. There is nothing here. Let’s get it over with.”

  Hew nodded and gestured to the men, but one, a hefty fellow with a sly expression, did not at once obey. “I’ll just run my sword through these dresses, Captain, to make sure there really are no other criminals being harbored here,” he said, with a false and unpleasant grin. “I’ll do it with my eyes shut to save your blushes, mistress, and apologies in advance for the rips.” He winked ostentatiously at Hew and, before Alice could say a word, he had his companions roaring with mirth as he thrust and parried in a pretend duel with a rustling mass of silks and bows. He saved his last flourish for a Prussian-blue velvet evening gown of which Alice was particularly proud. The velvet was thick and defended itself well, but when the trooper had finished, it would not even have made a decent duster.

  Not that Alice cared. Hew watched very carefully as all the color left her face and her legs turned to jelly. He glanced over at the wardrobe, then made a decision. “We’ll leave you to get yourself ready for prison,” he told her. “You may like to change into warmer clothes, for the cells are cold and damp. In five minutes, I will come up and take you away. Five minutes,” he repeated pointedly.

  Alice nodded mutely but Ursula, standing with her hands splayed over her cheeks as if to prevent her head from taking off, was loud in her consternation. “Prison? Damp? Oh no! The child will catch her death and then I’ll somehow be to blame. It’s too bad. Alice, I really think—” But Alice never learned what her aunt thought, for Hew took a firm hold of Ursula’s bony elbow, hustled her out, and shut what remained of the door.

  As soon as their footsteps faded, Alice grabbed a candle, flew to the wardrobe, and tore down the clothes. Dan was slumped on the floor. “Dan Skinslicer! Dan! Oh, Dan!” She tried to pull him into her arms, but he was too heavy. As she tugged, he groaned and opened his eyes. Alice rocked back on her heels. “At least you’re alive,” she wept. “Oh Lord! That terrible sword. It is all my fault. I’m so sorry!”

  Dan lay there, a red stain spreading pointed fingers down his shirt. The sword had sliced into his shoulder, causing a gaping flesh wound. Once he realized that by great good fortune he was not dying, however, and that the injury, though unsightly, was relatively light, he began to enjoy Alice’s tearful remorse, so took his time before rolling out of the wardrobe and into a sitting position. Alice set down the light and began tearing strips from her ruined dresses, bringing bowls of water from her ewer. She cleaned the wound, packed it with wadding, and bound it up. Dan followed her every movement, liking the cool, expert touch of her hands, and when she had finished, he had to make quite an effort to give a grimace of pain.

  Alice narrowed her eyes, then jumped up, flushing rosily. “Now then, Dan Skinslicer.” She wrung out the cloths. “Let’s not waste any more time. You heard Captain Ffrench. They’re going to arrest me any minute now and God alone knows what they will do if they catch you. There’s only one way to go.” She ran to the door to see if she could block it up to give them a little longer, but it was too badly broken. She ran back to Dan. “If you feel up to it,” she said, “we must get out of the window.” She hesitated. “Or perhaps you should go alone, taking Uncle Frank of course, and I should give myself up.” She crumpled a little. “Or perhaps we should just leave Uncle Frank here. Help me, Dan Skinslicer. I don’t know what to do.”

  Dan pulled his shirt back over his shoulder. “We may disagree about thieving and paying people,” he said at once, “but I’m not leaving you to be taken to Major Slavering, that I’m not. We’ll try the window.”

  “And Uncle Frank?”

  “We’ll take him with us. If we don’t and they find him, your grandmother and aunt’ll be for the chop. We can’t let that happen, can we?”

  There was only a moment’s pause. “Of course not,” said Alice. It was an effort to sound absolutely firm. Dan frowned at her, but let it pass. “Right then, we’d best be going.” He got up, winced, and with one heave threw open the heavy sash. “These newfangled things really do work,” he said. “Now, come on.”

  Alice took a deep breath as she looked down. The darkness blurred the height but she could hear the dog whining in the yard far below. Using Dan’s strong arms for reassurance, she slid out and, using his hands as a stepping stone, pulled herself up into the guttering. From there she could lean down, shaky but not insecure, to take Uncle Frank’s wig bag. Dan came hastily after her, ignoring the stabs of complaint from his shoulder. It was not easy, but the thought of Major Slavering and the dragoons was enough to give him extra spring.

  Carefully, they began to make their way across the sloping slates, feeling every inch. Several times Alice slipped and was saved from falling only by the solid mass of Dan behind her. He grunted slightly as her heels dug into him but did not give way. Alice was filled with gratitude. Never had she met anybody so dependable.

  Even before they reached the lead part of the roof, which was easier and flatter, they could hear the commotion caused by the discovery of both Dan’s bloodied rags and their escape. Shouts and roars spilled out and lamps were waved around. Hew’s voice was very clear as he stuck his head briefly through the window sash. Alice and Dan froze. If Hew chose to swing his light upward, he would surely see them. But Hew steadfastly looked the other way. “They’re both gone,” he called to his men. “Outside, quick. We may find them yet.” And with that he vanished. Alice leaned against a chimney pot, almost tearful with relief. Then Dan was pushing her on.

  They climbed the whole way along one side of Grosvenor Square before stopping, too tired to struggle further when they seemed, for the moment at least, secure enough. It was a warm night and the sky was dotted with stars. As they flopped down, Alice squeezed Dan’s good arm. “He let us go, that Captain Ffrench,” she said.

  Dan resented the admiration in Alice’s tone. “His men damn nearly killed me,” he reminded her. “My shoulder’s still bleeding. It’s going to be a dratted nuisance until it heals and we aren’t clear yet, missy, not by a long way.”

  “Are you in a lot of pain?” Alice was full of commiseration and Dan’s heart softened.

  “I dare say I’ve hurt some of my clients more.” He sounded much more conciliatory as he opened his shirt so that she could have another look. Alice unwrapped the wound, inspected it, then dextrously bound it up again. “Who taught you that?” Dan asked, admiring.

  “My nurse,
” said Alice. “She taught me almost everything I know.”

  “I’m sure your mother wouldn’t like to hear you say that.”

  “Oh, she wouldn’t mind,” said Alice with a happy smile. “She spends most of her life saying the rosary. She really wanted to be a nun, only inheritance and all that meant she had to marry somebody. All her brothers died, you see, and her sister, Ursula—well, you’ve seen Ursula. Who’d marry her? Mother was lucky, really, ending up with Father. He spends so much time measuring rain that she can pray all she wants. She makes cheese too. It’s a very fine arrangement.”

  Dan listened as Alice wittered on. They made themselves comfortable. Only when the chatter stopped did he begin to think, a little guiltily, about his own wife, now abandoned and penniless. Johanna was a nag and a millstone, but she was his wife. He owed her something. But then he felt Alice’s fingers, light and dainty on his brow, testing his temperature in case his wound brought fever with it. “I can’t go home yet,” he said to himself quite reasonably. “Everybody will know by now that it was me who got missy here and Colonel Towneley away from Temple Bar. We’re in this together. When I’ve got Mistress Alice safely to Towneley Hall, then I’ll send for Johanna.” And with that he put his conscience uneasily but thankfully to bed.

  5

  He must have dropped off for a few moments because he was woken by Alice digging him in the ribs. It was still dark, but Alice no longer felt safe. From below, the shouting of the troopers was increasing in volume. Dragoons were stationed all over now, in the knowledge that their quarry must at some stage descend. Alice knew that Hew could hardly order them to leave without putting himself under fire for neglecting his duty. “If we are going to get home, Dan Skinslicer,” Alice was thinking aloud, “we’ll have to get into somebody else’s house and see if we can get out from there.”