Rebeccah and the Highwayman

by Barbara Davies

  “Drop it,” she growled. He didn’t need telling twice. “Get down and join your friend.”

  Ignoring the twitching of the curtains at the carriage windows, she followed the coachman round to where the footman was standing, looking with dismay back along the track to where his dropped pistol lay.

  From her saddlebag, she drew out a short piece of rope and threw it to the coachman. “You know the drill. Tie his hands behind his back.” By the time he had finished, she had dismounted and, with another piece of rope, proceeded to tie his hands too.

  She walked back along the track, retrieved the dropped pistol, and brought it back. The coachman watched her remove the bullets from pistol and blunderbuss and drop the now harmless weapons at his feet, his expression bemused.

  “You won’t hurt my mistresses, will you, Sir?”

  “No,” she assured him. “You have my word.”

  “What good is your bloody word, you godsbedamned - Ow!”

  Kate’s gloved fist had knocked the footman on his arse.

  “Keep him quiet and out of my way,” she ordered. The coachman blinked, then nodded, and she turned her back on him and strode towards the carriage.

  Startled green eyes met hers as she wrenched the door open, and her heart skipped a beat. “We meet again.”

  “Good God! You!”

  “I’ll see you hang for persecuting us like this!”

  Kate ignored the outbursts from Rebeccah’s companions, who from their slight resemblance to the pretty young woman must be her sister and mother.

  “Have you not yet learned, Mistress Rebeccah, that it’s unwise to travel alone after dark across deserted heaths?”

  For a moment there was silence, then Rebeccah gave her a rueful smile. “We did not plan this, Sir. A horse threw a shoe and rather than risk laming him we had to seek out a blacksmith.”

  The young woman’s hands were trembling, but otherwise, thought Kate with admiration, she appeared remarkably composed.

  “An unfortunate occurrence indeed,” she agreed, “though not for me.”

  “I suppose you mean to rob us again?” Rebeccah frowned. “After our last meeting, it hardly seems fair.”

  Kate remembered the garnet ring. Her father’s, wasn’t it?

  “You may pass unharmed for a minor toll.” She heard her own words with a sense of amazement. What was she doing? She needed money and this family obviously had more than sufficient. “A kiss.”

  The older woman lurched forward, and Kate’s reflexes were so fine-honed she almost pulled the trigger.

  “Mama!” hissed Rebeccah.

  For a long moment no one moved, then Kate exhaled in relief. “For your own safety, please,” she indicated the cocked pistol, “no sudden movements.” Looking quite shaken, Rebeccah’s mother resumed her seat. “Good. Now.” Kate turned back to Rebeccah. “About that kiss…”

  “You Devil!” shouted Rebeccah’s sister. “Lay one finger on her and I’ll … I’ll …”

  “What?” prompted Kate.

  “Oh! … If I had a pistol I would shoot you dead.”

  “I have no doubt of it.” She turned back to find Rebeccah regarding her, her cheeks pink, but her gaze steady.

  “I will pay your toll.” Rebeccah ignored her sister’s sharp intake of breath and her mother’s shocked protest. “On one condition.”

  Kate was intrigued. “Name it.”

  “You may kiss only my hand.”

  Still holding her gaze, Rebeccah began to remove a glove, finger by finger. Kate wondered if she was aware how arousing that was.

  She laughed and made a small bow. “As you wish, Madam. And then I shall escort you to safer territory.”

  “Safer from whom?” asked Rebeccah’s sister.

  Kate didn’t reply. She was busy transferring her pistol to her other hand and tugging down the kerchief from her mouth.

  Rebeccah’s hand was smaller than her own. It was warm and trembled in her grasp as she raised it to her lips. When she made to turn it over, palm side up, the other woman resisted. Kate glanced at her, cocking one eyebrow in query before realising it was hidden by her mask. Rebeccah swallowed then acquiesced.

  “Beccah!” said her mother.

  Kate planted a kiss in the centre of the small white palm and kept her lips there a long moment, before releasing the hand back into the custody of its owner. When she raised her head, Rebeccah was staring at her like a startled fawn.

  “There,” she murmured. “The toll is paid.” She smiled, then remembered that the lower part of her face was visible and pulled up the kerchief once more.

  “Villain!” hissed Rebeccah’s sister. “I will not forget this insult to my sister’s honour.”

  “Not insult, Madam, but rather homage to her beauty. And now, since our business is concluded. …” Kate backed out of the carriage, gave her most extravagant bow, then closed the door and turned to where the bound servants waited.

  “You two,” she said, striding towards them and drawing her sword. The footman quailed as moonlight glinted off her naked blade. “Heed me or face the consequences. When I cut you free, you are to resume your posts. I’ll escort your carriage to the edge of the heath, then you are on your own.”

  The coachman gaped at her. “Escort us?”

  “Are you hard of hearing?”

  He shook his head.

  “Good.” Kate described a circle with her forefinger, and he turned round so she could slice through the rope binding his hands. She repeated the action with the footman, who seemed less than grateful for his release. The threat of her raised fist shut him up.

  A whistle brought Clover to her side, and she shoved her booted foot in the stirrup and mounted up. Rebeccah’s servant exchanged a confused glance, bent to gather their weapons, and scrambled to their posts. Moments later, reins in hand, the coachman was urging his team forward.

  As her mare fell into step beside the carriage, Kate saw that the curtains of one of the windows were drawn back and a pair of green eyes was staring out at her. She winked at Rebeccah, expecting her to blush and turn away, but the young woman continued to stare at her, brow creased

  What are you thinking? wondered Kate. Did my kiss disgust you or give you pleasure? Would you like another? I would be more than happy to oblige, especially on those pretty lips.

  Then she sighed and chided herself. Dolt! She’s not in your league. What’s more, she thinks you’re a man, and you will probably never see her again. Besides, what about Alice?

  She rode on a few more paces, considering. What about Alice? A twinge of remorse made her bite her lip. She deserves better. But her gaze was drawn irresistibly back towards the charming face framed in the coach window and all thoughts of Alice deserted her.

  They reached the edge of the heath too soon for Kate’s liking. As she watched the carriage pull away, she doffed her hat and thought for a moment that she saw a small hand waving at her, then decided she must have imagined it.

  Seeing their escort was no longer with them, the coachman whipped the team of horses to a full gallop. As she watched the coach rattle and sway into the distance, Kate cursed under her breath. Far from sating her appetite for Rebeccah, this latest rash encounter had served only to whet it further.

  Kate was halfway home, and just about to urge Clover over a hedge, when movement made her rein the mare in. She frowned and squinted at the hedge’s margins. What was lurking in the shadows, an animal? If so, it walked on two legs. She drew her pistol.

  “Don’t shoot!”

  She blinked at the familiar voice. “Stephenson?”

  “Ay.” The shadow split into two as her friend emerged. “I hoped it was you, Kate. Can you give me a ride back to town?”

  “That depends.” She stowed her pistol. “Where’s Fury?” There was no sign of her fellow highwayman’s stallion.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Kate grinned, and rested her hands on the saddle horn. “I could do with a good laugh.”

/>   “Have a heart.”

  “Or I could just ride on… “

  Her friend sighed, drew closer, and patted Clover’s neck. “You’re cruel, Kate…. Very well. If you must know, I came across this rider. A woman.”

  “Some people have all the luck.”

  “Do you want to hear this story or not?”

  She shrugged. “It’s you who wants the ride back to town.”

  “Point taken. Well … At my ‘Stand and deliver’, she threw her purse over this hedge and galloped off.”

  Kate pretended to consider. “If you bathed more frequently …”

  He threw her an indignant glance. “I didn’t want her, I wanted her purse. And when I dismounted to retrieve it….” He paused and hung his head, then the words came out in a rush, “Fury galloped off after her.”

  She gave a great shout of laughter. “Her mare was in season?”

  Stephenson scratched his chin. “Must have been.”

  “That’s what you get for riding a stallion. Clover never runs off after mares.”

  “She would if she shared her mistress’s proclivities.”

  Kate pretended to take offence. “For that remark I should let you walk home, Sir.”

  Panic spread over Stephenson’s face. “You wouldn’t …” He paused and shook his finger at her. “Ah, Kate. That wasn’t nice. For a moment you almost had me believing you. But you wouldn’t leave an old friend stranded, would you? Come now. If the positions were reversed ….”

  She grinned. “Of course not. Especially since the contents of that purse are going to pay for your passage.”

  “What?” His look of outrage made Kate chuckle.

  “All right, make it half. I’m sure you agree, given your current situation, it’s only fair we split the purse.”

  “What choice do I have?”

  “None.” She moved forward in the saddle to make room.

  The highwayman was still grumbling under his breath when he climbed up behind Kate. Clover shifted and nickered a protest at the extra weight, but a few soothing words and pats on the neck quieted her.

  “Half my profits for the night, gone. And you call yourself a friend!” complained Stephenson, as she urged the mare into a trot.

  “A friend who thanks you with all her heart, for until you came along, her own profits were paltry, not to say non-existent.”

  “Lean pickings, eh?” The thought seemed to console him somewhat.

  “Indeed.” A smile curved Kate’s lips and she urged Clover into a canter. But only if you discount the kiss.

  ***

  Rebeccah linked arms with Caroline Stanhope and headed towards St James’s Park. It was another fine day, and from the looks of it, half of London’s gentry were taking the air.

  “You let him kiss you?” Her friend’s brown eyes were round.

  “On the hand.” Rebeccah felt defensive. “What choice did I have? It was that or be robbed … again.” Even as she spoke, she knew she wasn’t being entirely truthful. Blue-Eyed Nick had wanted to kiss her, that much she had sensed, and a small part of her had been intrigued enough to let him.

  She had thought the kiss would be of no consequence, but it had been … unexpected. How soft the highwayman’s lips were! And how odd she had felt when they touched the skin of her palm … as though butterflies were dancing in her stomach.

  “But wasn’t that dangerous, Beccah?” pressed Caroline. “Suppose he had tried to, you know …”

  “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Bless me, Beccah! How could you possibly know that?” Caroline’s raised eyebrows took Rebeccah back to the early days of Mrs Priest’s boarding school, where the two had first met and everything Rebeccah did and said seemed to astonish the other girl.

  “I know because of the ring. Remember, Caro … He could have taken Papa’s ring, but when I told him what it meant to me, he declined.”

  Caroline stopped walking and turned to her with a frown. “Beccah, you haven’t fallen for him, have you?”

  Her cheeks grew hot. “Don’t be foolish!”

  “Because if you have, well, first of all he’s not respectable. And second, the chances are high he’s just amusing himself.”

  “He wouldn’t -” Rebeccah stopped in some confusion. All this presumption based on two brief meetings. What was she thinking?

  Caroline’s hand flew to her mouth as a thought occurred to her, and she scanned the park. “Oh! You don’t think he’s following you, do you? How else could he be on hand to hold up your carriage twice on different roads?”

  Rebeccah followed her friend’s anxious gaze and shook her head. “I would have spotted him. He has his own hair, whereas most men of my acquaintance wear wigs. And then there’s his height and bearing, and those striking eyes …” She sighed. “In all likelihood I will never see him again.”

  “I’ve never heard you speak this way before, Beccah, and I confess it shocks me. Even the most civilised and chivalrous highwayman is hardly a realistic prospect for a husband.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” asked Rebeccah, nettled. “Unfortunately, realistic matrimonial prospects are not in great supply. Unlike some I could mention, I have no handsome cousin of a suitable age waiting in the wings.”

  “Thomas and I were fortunate indeed,” agreed Caroline, who had married her childhood sweetheart last year. “You just haven’t been mixing in the right circles, Beccah. Take those suitors of your sister -“

  Rebeccah gave a snort of disgust. “At least Blue-Eyed Nick is open about his intention to steal a woman’s money.”

  Caroline chuckled. “As I was saying, they are not the type to win your heart. I have known you many years, Beccah, and the man who does that must first earn your respect.” Her gaze turned inward and she gave a nod. “I shall ask Thomas if there is anyone of his acquaintance who might do.”

  “He has a hard task ahead of him, then, Caro, for my mother says I am too particular.” She sighed. “Oh, why do we have to marry at all?” The other woman assumed she was joking and laughed, and Rebeccah didn’t correct her.

  By unspoken consent, the two friends continued their stroll in thoughtful silence, breathing in the fresh air with pleasure, and idly regarding the cows and red deer grazing on the far side of the park.

  “Now I come to think of it,” said Caroline after a while, “Thomas once told me a tale of your highwayman. At least I think his name was Blue-Eyed Nick, and there can’t be two such, can there?” She shook her head in irritation. “I don’t know why I didn’t remember it sooner.”

  “My highwayman?”

  Her friend smiled and pressed her hand. “It concerned the Fleet.”

  “The Debtor’s Prison?”

  “The same. Apparently, he turned up on the Keeper’s doorstep last New Year’s Eve. The fellow was in a drunken stupor, so Nick dunked his head in the basin to sober him.”

  “Bless me! It’s a wonder the Keeper didn’t lock him up.”

  “He was furious at the unexpected baptism,” agreed Caroline, “but he calmed when Blue-Eyed Nick crammed a bag of guineas into his hands.”

  “What did Nick want for his money?”

  “Are you aware that some of the Fleet’s inmates find it impossible ever to pay off their debts? They can remain imprisoned for years, decades even.”

  Rebeccah nodded. “Such a system of punishment has always struck me as inefficient, not to mention callous.”

  Caroline gave her an approving glance. “The highwayman wanted to purchase the freedom of as many of those unfortunates as he could. Even after the Keeper had taken his share, there was still enough left to free five men and women.”

  “That was kind! Were they friends of his who benefited from his largesse?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “Then that was a handsome gesture indeed.”

  Caroline chuckled. “Of course, the money probably wasn’t Blue-Eyed Nick’s to dispense in the first place, but…” She fell silent. />
  “I have heard a tale of him too,” said Rebeccah after a moment. “From my maid.”

  “Indeed!”

  “It goes as follows. He was riding home one night when he came across twenty men, pressed and roped and looking very sorry for themselves. They were being taken to Portsmouth. Blue-Eyed Nick ambushed the convoy -“

  “On his own?”

  “So Mary says. He freed the men, tied up their escort with the ropes that had bound them, and robbed them of everything of value.” She paused and gave her friend a glance. “What do you think of that?”

  “Some might say,” ventured Caroline, “that by his actions Blue-Eyed Nick upsets the natural order of things. For debtors must be imprisoned, and if ships cannot be crewed by volunteers, men must be pressed.”

  “Some might indeed,” said Rebeccah. “But I am not among their number. Indeed, it has often occurred to me that those whom society deems ‘civilised’ are often more barbaric than those it deems ‘rogues’.”

  “It has occurred to me too,” said Caroline. “Perhaps that is why we are friends.”

  They walked on a few paces. “But to revert to our original topic,” continued Caroline, “that still doesn’t mean you may marry Blue-Eyed Nick….Oh, isn’t that Sophia Andrewes?” She waved at one of two young women walking arm in arm up ahead. “She’s looking positively haggard. Whoever told her yellow suited her?” She grabbed Rebeccah’s arm and tugged. “Come on. I want to ask her if she is going to the Assembly Room next Thursday.”

  With a sigh, Rebeccah let herself be hurried.

  Rebeccah was in the hall, giving her gloves and wrap into Mary’s safekeeping, when Anne pounced on her.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Caro and I went first for a walk, then to an India house for some tea and cinnamon water, and then -“

  “Well,” Anne interrupted, “it is immaterial since you are here now. Mama said I should tell you. I’ve engaged a thieftaker to apprehend that highwayman who robbed us and insulted you.”

  “What?” Rebeccah stared at her sister. But I don’t want to see Blue-Eyed Nick hang.

  “From your horrified expression I know what you are going to say, Beccah, for the thought crossed my mind also. But you need have no fear of it being an expense we can ill afford. Titus tells me it is the government who will pay the thieftaker ?40 for apprehension of a highwayman, not us.”