by K. M. Grant
Alice pushed Dan around the corner. “We’ll just wait until Captain Ffrench comes out again,” she whispered. But it was not until the morning that Hew emerged on yet another borrowed horse, and when Dan and Alice, having spent the night huddled under a wall, taking turns to keep watch, hauled themselves back onto their own horses, they had no idea where he was going.
Hew was heading straight to find Mabel. She would, by now, have returned to Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and while Hew could not go back to Chelsea, he felt he could visit his sister without undue suspicion. Anyway, so he believed, and Major Slavering would be snoring.
But Major Slavering was not snoring. In fact, dressed for anonymity in a buckskin coat and without a hat, he was trotting not far behind his captain, for he had determined not to let Hew out of his sight until Alice and the head were apprehended. Neither Alice nor Dan noticed the figure that appeared and disappeared in Hew’s wake. They were too busy keeping up and keeping out of sight themselves.
As soon as Hew reached the Cantankerings’ house, he dismounted and pulled the large bell, tapping his foot impatiently until Mabel came to join him. At once, he slipped his arm around her and drew her close as they promenaded across the grass.
Mabel was in a mood. She had arrived at six A.M., as bidden by the duchess, so that she could organize the loading of the children’s school books into the traveling cart. Although this meant rising at four, Mabel did not mind, but ever since she had set foot in the house, Lord Trotting had followed her about like a lovesick puppy, too shy to speak the words of love pulsing through his heart, but unable to leave her alone. What was worse, Lord Trotting’s sisters and Mabel’s charges, Lady Alicia Walker and Lady Araminta Walker, being young and wicked, had imitated their brother’s sighs and found it highly amusing to recite, at full volume, the drippiest poetry they could find.
It was with relief that Mabel had made her excuses when the maid called up that her brother was downstairs. “Now,” she said when they were out of earshot, “what are you doing here?”
As she knew he would, Hew rose at once to the bait. “Don’t be an ass, Mabel. You know just why I have come.”
Seeing real anxiety in Hew’s eyes, Mabel relented, but only a little. “Mother nearly died of shock when she saw that head. Honestly, Hew, you could have killed her. And in case you’re wondering, we hid it under my skirts.”
“Under your skirts?” Hew sounded faintly shocked.
“Lord help us! Don’t be such an old nanny. The man was dead! Did you not notice that I never stood up?” Hew looked stricken. “The danger—”
Mabel pinched his arm to hurt him. “A bit late to think of that.” Her voice was sour. “Mother said you got carried away by some girl. Who on earth is she?”
“She’s called Alice Towneley and she helped me climb off Temple Bar. I was stuck—well, you know how I am with heights. Anyway, that’s not important. Where’s the head now?”
Mabel looked sideways at her brother. “It’s in a hatbox,” she said. “I’m by way of taking it to Cantankering, from where, if you like, you can collect it and give it back to this ridiculous Alice whoever-she-is.”
“Towneley,” said Hew automatically.
“Well then,” said Mabel. “Look. They’re bringing the boxes out now. The head is in the painted one Lord Trotting gave me last Christmas, the one with hideous flowers and pudgy cherubs. It is wearing one of my hats. I think it looks rather fetching.”
“How can you joke about this?” Hew sometimes itched to slap his sister.
Mabel made a face at him and they walked back to the house.
Alice, who had not been able to take her eyes off the two of them since Hew folded Mabel into the crook of his arm, now watched this unknown woman lean against him, clearly confiding some intimate secret or other. She felt as though somebody had punched her. Hew already had a sweetheart. Who else but a sweetheart would be drawn so close? All her stupid daydreams had been just that. She slumped a little in her saddle. She had been duped. No. She had duped herself. Hew had just been doing what he saw as his duty, helping her with Uncle Frank because she had helped him get down off Temple Bar. A tear scalded her cheek. She could not tell if it was from humiliation or disappointment, but whichever it was, it was horrid.
Dan had a somewhat different reaction. At first, he wanted to crow, but his initial surge of satisfaction at the sight of Hew’s affections so evidently bestowed elsewhere quickly evaporated when he saw Alice’s face. For all her bravado, she’s just a little girl, he thought to himself. Girls dream, especially of raven-haired captains in uniform. It’s natural. As he saw Alice’s tear drop off her chin, a vision of his wife inconveniently popped up. He supposed that even she had once dreamed and briefly wondered what she would be dreaming now. About my head in a wig bag, he thought with a pang, and scratched his stubbled chin. He did not know what to say to Alice, so said nothing for the time being.
Major Slavering, who had hidden himself and his horse behind a large chestnut tree, watched Mabel show the coachman what were obviously her personal belongings in the luggage now piled on the pavement: one paltry trunk and a hatbox. Mabel was indicating that these should go with the baggage belonging to the servants. There was no wig bag, but, thought the major, wig bags were small things. Maybe he was too far away. Leaving the cover of the tree, he worked his way swiftly around the side streets behind the square until he reached the corner nearest the Cantankering house. It was almost inevitable that for his final approach he chose the very street on which Dan and Alice were lurking. The major at once saw the horses’ rumps and was surprised to find two of his own men already stationed just where he wanted to be himself. He looked a little harder, wondering why the stumpy tail of one of the horses was so familiar.
Dan heard the hoofbeats and, at the same time, felt Belter’s flanks begin to quiver. He turned. “It’s the major,” he hissed at Alice. “He’s not in uniform but he must have followed Captain Ffrench too. He’s heading straight for us. What shall we do?”
“Oh, God in Heaven!” Alice spluttered, wiping her nose on her glove. “I suppose we’d better ride into the square and around to the right, away from Captain Ffrench. Of course you were right, Dan Skinslicer,” she added, furiously wiping her eyes as they moved off, “I think Captain Ffrench must have rescued the head and then—well, and then given it to his lady friend to keep.” There was a sharp pause. “I hope she enjoyed it.”
Dan didn’t care about that now. Because he was nervous, he was holding Belter’s reins too tight and the horse, fighting for more freedom, yanked at his bit and began to rock and buck, kicking his heels high in the air. Once he got started, he didn’t want to stop. “Oh, glory!” Dan had not meant to shout at all, and certainly not to shout so loud, but the bucks were becoming so huge that he felt at any moment he would fly off. Alice leaned over, trying to help, but it was hopeless. The horse bucketed about and Dan yowled as he crashed like a lead weight on to the saddle’s high pommel. At once the eyes of Major Slavering, Hew, and Mabel swiveled over and there was nothing Alice or Dan could do about it.
“Why!” Mabel exclaimed loudly and without thinking as she glanced at Alice’s horse. “Isn’t that Marron?”
At this, the rumble that had been gathering force at the bottom of Major Slavering’s lungs erupted and his bellow made the windows shake. “Arrest them all! Arrest them all!” His face was puce as he leaped from the shadows. Gesticulating wildly with one hand at Dan and Alice and waving his reins with the other at Hew and Mabel, he set his horse this way and that, in agonies of indecision about which of the four to seize himself. Begging passersby to help him, he demanded, in the king’s name, the arrest of all of them. “They are either impostors or traitors or both! Grab them! Nab them!” he cried. “Never mind the uniforms! Never mind anything! They are confounded enemies of King George II. They have even stolen a traitor’s head. I order you again, grab them! Nab them!”
At the major’s noisy hysteria, the local populace began to converge on t
he square. At first they shuffled about, unsure whether the bellower on his black horse was a madman who should be arrested himself or whether they should follow his order. But when Dan and Alice did not stop, they grew more excited and began to run.
Some grabbed Hew; others joined hands to prevent Dan and Alice from breaking away. Kicking Marron hard, Alice shouted to Dan to mow them down, but Belter, ignoring Dan’s every command, would not even attempt to charge forward and instead reversed at high speed until he brought his rider right within Major Slavering’s grasp. Delighted, Slavering seized Dan and tried to wrestle him to the ground. Dan fought back with the rules of the gutter. It was a vicious match and the crowd was thrilled. This was terrific sport! They whooped and cheered, quickly taking sides.
It took Alice some moments to realize that Dan was not with her, but when she did, she pulled Marron around and drove him straight back, hoping to bulldoze Belter right past the major and sweep on through until she and Dan could together scatter the mass of unfriendly faces now surging around Hew. But everything got confused and, instead of finding herself where she wanted to be, Alice was soon wedged up against one of the luggage carts, struggling to keep her own seat as dozens of hands pulled and tugged at any part of her they could reach. Biting, kicking, and scratching as she was hooked and pummeled, Alice fought like a tiger, knowing for certain that if she was pulled out of the saddle, she would be lynched. She could hear somebody howling but never realized that it was herself.
Squashed almost underneath Marron was Mabel. But even had she been inclined to, she could not help Alice, for she was grappling with a curly-headed robber hell-bent on stealing the Cantankering luggage, beginning with the hatbox.
The weight of people was enormous and Marron, hardly able to keep his feet, was slowly pushed toward Hew. But it was Mabel Alice could hear. “The hatbox! Get the hatbox!” she was yelling, hanging on to the robber by his hair. The hatbox! Adrenalin pumped through Alice’s veins. Uncle Frank! Twisting and shoving, she tried desperately to reach down, but failed. It was Hew, unable to draw his sword because of the crush, who eventually managed to pin the robber to the ground. A free-for-all followed, to which shrieks and groans provided a hideous accompaniment, and under this seething human soup both Hew and the hatbox were gradually submerged. Alice, spitting like a wildcat, dug her spurs as hard as she could into Marron’s flanks and the horse struck out, his nostrils flaring and froth foaming from his mouth. At last Alice could see Hew bent double, determined to hang on to the hatbox despite being hammered on all sides. But it was a losing battle. When a huge man picked Hew up like a rat and shook him, determination was no longer enough. Hew could do nothing but let go and hear the bray of victory as the hatbox was lifted high in the air.
Alice, however, was ready. Quick as a flash, from her greater height, she seized the box’s travel binding and the man suddenly found himself empty-handed. The weight nearly had Alice off, but Marron, maddened by both her spurs and the jabbing fingers of the crowd, reared up and jolted her back into the saddle. At once she slipped the binding loop over the cantle and tried to stop the box from swinging about and catching on the hilt of the sword that, because she had never worn one before, Alice had clean forgotten she was carrying. Her heart began to race even faster as with more enthusiasm than skill she tugged at the scabbard. Thirty-six inches of straight steel gleamed and flashed as she swept it before her, narrowly missing Marron’s ears. The crowd drew back and Hew’s bloodied face was briefly visible once more. “Hew, Hew!” Alice cried out to him, holding out her free hand. “Jump up here. Jump up. We can go off together.”
Her face was so eager and fear had made her eyes brighter than ever. Hew raised his hand to her. But he knew his duty. He had seen what Alice had not. Dan and Major Slavering were no longer wrestling. Slavering had been pitched off his horse. But while in his victory Dan, like Alice, had drawn his sword and was almost free of the crowd, Slavering had captured the most powerful weapon of all. He had Mabel and was pulling her onto the luggage wagon. Hew could not leave her and Slavering knew it.
When Alice realized the reason for Hew’s hesitation, her eyes grew dark and unfriendly. She called out to Hew again. He heard her only too clearly and longed, with all his heart, to answer her call. What did it matter that he hardly knew her or that she was too grand for him? It was enough to know with thundering certainty that he wanted to be with her. She seemed so hopeful and strong, the kind of girl who could clear your head and make you feel brilliantly alive. He wanted so badly to tell her this, to throw his heart at her feet. But he stopped his ears against her. This was not the time. He could not abandon Mabel. The crowd closed in on him again.
Dan had no qualms about either Hew or Mabel. His only concern was Alice. Brandishing his sword like a cudgel, he roared defiance, booted Belter into a canter, and, as he passed Marron, slapped the horse’s rump with the blade’s flat edge. Marron lurched forward, flipping the reins out of Alice’s hands and neatly into Dan’s. Dan did not let go. Pulling Marron behind him, with Alice sobbing in girlish indignation and frustration every step of the way, Dan bludgeoned a passage through the riot and set off across the grass to make good their escape. Alice might drum her heels against Marron’s sides and the horse might buck and plunge, but Dan kept going forward. Cursing and swearing in a way Dan hated, Alice twisted backward. She saw Hew clamber up onto the wagon. She saw Major Slavering let go of his hostage. She saw a blade flash high above Hew’s head.
Hours later, ringing through her whole body, she could still hear Mabel’s scream.
10
Nobody was allowed to visit Hew in the barracks prison except, for the first two days, his mother and Mabel, and Hew was glad when their visits were discontinued. Mrs. Ffrench was never less than dignified but the pain in her face haunted him.
Apart from many bruises, Hew had emerged relatively unscathed from both the mob and Major Slavering. The hovering blade that caused Mabel to scream had not been used to injure him. Major Slavering wanted Hew a prisoner, not a dead man. Prisoners were far more fun. Yet although his cell was ankle-deep in slime and rat droppings and the image of his head on a pike was enough to make his raven locks lose their luster, Hew had no regrets. For a start, surely, now that he had Hew, Major Slavering would give up pursuing Alice. It should be enough sport to vent his venom on a soldier he had always despised. And in spite of the stories the major and others would inevitably love to spread about, branding Hew a traitor, Hew also knew in his heart that his honor was unstained. He had helped Alice because she was just a girl trying to do the best by her uncle. Sometimes, during the wretched nights, when the dark was absolute and men went mad, Hew asked himself if he would have done the same had Alice been old and warty. He hoped the answer was yes, but he could not deny that those cornflower eyes and the stubborn set of Alice’s mouth had made his duty much sweeter. Yet it must surely count for something that he had given up the escape Alice offered in order to protect Mabel, even though Mabel had been singularly ungrateful.
Major Slavering also lay awake thinking, but the tenor of his dreams was rather different. What he wanted from Hew was nothing short of a full, execution-worthy confession. In effect, Hew must declare that, since the battle of Culloden, he had changed sides and was now sympathetic to Bonnie Prince Charlie’s cause. This would give the king no option but to sanction Hew’s hanging, drawing, and quartering, and this was what Major Slavering now desired above all things. That captain had ideas above his station. He should, literally, be cut down to size.
However, as Hew was unlikely to declare himself a traitor of his own accord, Slavering decided to persuade him. If Hew agreed to condemn himself, the major was prepared to forget about dragging Alice and Dan back to London to face trial and he would forget about Colonel Towneley’s head too, just for good measure. So long as Alice and Dan never returned to London and they buried the head somewhere where nobody would ever be tempted to dig it up, they would be left alone.
When Slave
ring finally visited Hew, he outlined his plan in terms both clipped and clear. Hew stood in silence until the major grew impatient. “Well, Captain F-f-f-french? Where’s your gallantry now? Too cowardly to save your ladylove, eh?”
But Hew would not reply and eventually Slavering gave up and went away.
That night Hew lay in an agony of indecision. To save Alice he would do anything. But if he confessed to treachery, his mother would suffer and suffer grievously. Nobody would want to associate with her, or want their servants to be seen dropping off the sewing on which her income depended. And then there was Mabel. Lord Trotting could not possibly marry the sister of an executed traitor. How could Hew conspire to ruin his whole family? He would be worse than his father. He could not do it, not even if Alice herself asked him.
When Slavering visited the next morning, Hew greeted him again with silence, and the following morning after that. But Slavering was determined to break him and made sure that his former captain starved and suffered. On some days, Hew was left alone with the rats. Those were good days. On other days, Slavering would send the prison guards to talk to him. Those were bad days. On other days still, Major Slavering himself would pay a visit. Those were worse.
With troopers scouring the country for them, Alice and Dan made their way stealthily northward, discarding their dragoons’ uniforms and keeping only their swords and horses. The turnpike roads were full of tramping soldiers, so the two fugitives were forced onto disused tracks thick with summer growth. It rained torrentially and the miles seemed very long. Even the horses grew dispirited.
Dan tried everything he could to coax Alice to talk to him, but she sat on Marron, hunched and silent, as she was led away from danger and toward home. Every morning Dan told her that she would soon see her mother and father again, but every evening she had only one question. What right had she to make a good man like Hew destroy himself to protect the head of somebody he neither knew nor cared about, particularly when that somebody was already dead. “Hew’s ladylove, or wife, or whatever she was,” she added, trying to sound matter-of-fact, “will be right never to forgive me.” She went on and on, always ending plaintively that she could not rest because she didn’t even know if Hew was dead or alive.
