The Girl in the Mask

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  It took me only a few moments to run my hand over the trimmings, find the catch, release it and pull the seat open. I hadn’t expected to find it so full: papers, boxes, bags and purses lay neatly stacked in the hiding place. I grabbed two heavy purses and a roll of bills and stuffed them inside my jacket. Then I slammed the compartment shut again and jumped out.

  The scene outside wasn’t what I’d expected; our fortunes had very nearly been reversed. Jenny was half off her horse, wrestling with the coachman who’d slipped down from the box while she was guarding my father. My father was taking advantage of her inattention to crawl through the mud, trying to reach the blunderbuss the guard had dropped.

  Instinctively, I leapt on the back of the man who was fighting Jenny and got one arm around his neck, choking him. He let go of Jenny and staggered. Jenny hit him on the head with the butt of the pistol she held. He went limp in my arms and I dropped him into the mud.

  Two men appeared running out of the mist, clad in rough garments; farm labourers, at a guess. Jenny was already turning her horse, kicking him into a canter. I scrambled up on mine as fast as I could and he was in full flight after her before I’d even grasped the reins or got my feet into the stirrups. A shot whistled right over our heads, making both of us duck instinctively and the horses bounded forward in fright. We thundered along the road a short way, jumped the hedge and galloped across a meadow. I followed Jenny closely as she left the field through a copse, by way of a gate she opened for us, and then cantered on into the hills. The sounds of the chaos we’d left behind us faded and gave way to the calm of early morning. When we pulled our horses up, all I could hear was birdsong and the distant barking of a dog.

  The two of us looked at each other and Jenny started to laugh. ‘What a ruddy mess!’ she said. ‘I told you not to give me the gun. We came as close as damn it to being took!’

  I nodded, realizing I was shaking. But at the same time I felt a soaring exhilaration. ‘We did it though!’ I said, patting my bulging jacket. Then I remembered the muck all over my father’s clothes and his hat and wig lying in the mud and I started to laugh too.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘You have a very hearty appetite this morning, Sophia,’ remarked my aunt, as I reached for my third breakfast roll.

  ‘Oh, I’m just comforting myself for my father’s absence,’ I replied, spreading a generous amount of butter onto the roll, and then picking up the dish of jam. I smiled a little to myself at her sceptical sniff.

  It had been touch and go as to whether I was going to get back into the house before my absence was discovered. But I’d just made it. Dawes had been surprised, when she entered my room to lay out my clothes for the morning, to find me in bed in my shift instead of my nightgown, but it wasn’t her place to question me.

  The morning passed slowly. I accompanied my aunt to the promenade and then ate a syllabub in a cook-shop while my aunt gossiped. Bouts of yawning kept threatening to overcome me. It had been a long night.

  When we arrived home for luncheon, I was relieved to find my father hadn’t returned. He must have decided to continue his journey despite the robbery. It was with a lighter heart that I set out for another afternoon of boredom at Harrison’s. I would be free of my father for many days now.

  In the assembly rooms, Aunt Amelia spoke to the same handful of men she conversed with every time we went out. She never wanted me to join these conversations and these men had kept their distance when my father was with us. I was mildly intrigued, but at a loss to account for it. Then I remembered the plays I’d read over the years and suddenly believed I understood. Congreve, Wycherly and the other male playwrights: they had never interested me much, for they wrote about little else than men and women intriguing with one another. Of course! It was likely that my aunt was passing love notes and arranging secret meetings with these men. Ugh. What a nasty thought. I shook my head to clear it. I would try never to notice it or think about it again.

  On the way into Harrison’s I had been handed a leaflet, which I’d glanced at only cursorily at first. Then, realizing it was a play bill, I read it with excitement.

  ‘Aunt Amelia!’ I exclaimed. ‘There’s a performance tonight of a play by Aphra Behn! At the Trim Street Theatre. Can we not go and see it?’

  ‘To be sure, I should not object myself,’ she said, ‘but your father left strict instructions on the subject … excuse me, dear, I think I see … ’ and my aunt disappeared as usual into the card room.

  That left me to walk up and down the gardens alone and then yawn over my tea. It was extremely dull. I preferred the mornings spent in the bookstore, where every kind of publication was available. My aunt had insisted on obeying my father’s rules and banning poetry or plays, but she had no objection to the newspapers. Occasionally I slipped a collection of poetry or a play inside the newspaper and indulged my taste for literature surreptitiously. At others, I read the papers cover to cover. That was how I knew there had been another riot in London. A mob had swept through parts of the city, smashing windows and starting fires on the anniversary of the date King Charles had been restored to the throne, many years earlier.

  My mind wandered as I waited, lost in daydreams of home, and it was a complete shock to me when I heard my name spoken. ‘Mr Charleton!’ I exclaimed, spilling tea into my saucer. ‘I hadn’t seen that you were here today.’

  He raised his brows and smiled slightly. ‘You looked for me then?’ he asked.

  I frowned, realizing my mistake. ‘Only because it’s pleasanter here without you,’ I said.

  He smiled, somehow making me feel very young and awkward. ‘What’s that you have there?’ he asked, indicating the leaflet in my hand. ‘Ah, yes! The Rover. An entertaining piece. Shall you go to see it?’

  ‘My father doesn’t like me to see plays,’ I replied bitterly.

  ‘I see. And will that stop you, I wonder?’ he asked, his eyes twinkling. It was quite clearly a challenge. But before I could reply he continued: ‘Your aunt is playing?’

  ‘As you may see, sir,’ I replied with a glance towards the card room where I could just glimpse my aunt dealing a hand to a group of one other lady and two gentlemen. Mr Charleton looked at the group dispassionately for a moment.

  ‘She chooses unusual company,’ he commented. I’d just been having similar thoughts, but I was hardly about to discuss something so sordid and embarrassing with a stranger. Mr Charleton smiled. ‘You’ve made an unusual friend too,’ he remarked.

  I froze, feeling a surge of panic. How could he know about Jenny? Surely he knew nothing of the robbery?

  ‘Allen is an estimable man,’ Mr Charleton added. ‘How did you meet him?’

  I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Oh,’ I said with a shaky laugh. ‘Mr Allen. To be sure. I met him at the post office, of course.’

  ‘Ah, I see. He’s a man of great talents and industry.’

  ‘I think so too,’ I agreed. ‘I happened to meet him again when I was out walking, and he told me something of his ambitions.’

  ‘And do you often walk … ’ Mr Charleton broke off as a smart young man tugged at his elbow, distracting him. With a quick bow of apology, Mr Charleton moved aside and a low-voiced conversation followed. I looked out of the window, careful not to look as though I was trying to overhear. After a moment, Mr Charleton turned back to me and bowed more formally. ‘Miss Williams, I’m desolated to have to leave you, but urgent business calls me away. We can continue this conversation another time, I hope.’

  I looked at him in surprise, wondering what important business a gentleman of leisure could possibly have. But it mattered little to me after all. I nodded to him and said nothing, watching as his elegant figure disappeared through the throng of fashionables. To my surprise he returned a moment later accompanied by a very small man, modestly rather than expensively dressed; he walked with difficulty, leaning on a stick. He was so bent that at first I thought he was an old man, but he wasn’t. He was quite young, but crippled. />
  ‘Miss Williams, before I go,’ said Mr Charleton. ‘This is Mr Alexander Pope. I know you’ve been eager to meet him.’ He bowed, and withdrew, leaving us together.

  Mr Pope offered his hand and I placed mine in it. He bowed. ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Williams,’ he said with a friendly smile, lowering himself into the seat beside me with difficulty, his breath rasping. ‘My friend Charleton tells me you are a great reader.’

  I blushed and stumbled over my words, shy to be speaking to such a famous poet, but he was easy to talk to and soon put me at my ease. We spoke of poetry and stories and agreed on favourites. ‘I see you have the playbill there,’ Pope remarked. ‘It’s a good performance. I was there last night. I venture to promise you’ll enjoy it.’

  I was in a glow after he’d taken leave of me. Even the usual boredom of the rooms wasn’t as painful as usual. I reread the playbill, thinking over Pope’s recommendation and Mr Charleton’s challenge. He’d as good as dared me to go. And he was quite right: why should I not see the play? I concealed the playbill in my pocket and didn’t mention it to my aunt again. She’d forgotten about it by the time she finished playing cards. Over dinner, I grew quiet and began to close my eyes and rest my forehead on my hand. When my aunt still said nothing, I sighed deeply.

  ‘What is it, Sophia?’ she said impatiently. ‘We must make haste and get changed for the evening service in the abbey. There will be cards afterwards at Harrison’s.’ She put down her knife and fork with a clatter and I winced eloquently at the sound.

  ‘I can feel one of my migraines coming on,’ I said faintly. ‘Might I be excused this once and go to bed? I don’t get them often, but when I do, they last all night.’

  My aunt looked at me suspiciously. I did my best to look like a drooping headache-sufferer, and reluctantly she gave her consent.

  It was an easy matter to send Dawes away, stuff the bed with clothes to make it look as though I was asleep and slip away through the window, pulling the shutters closed behind me. Wearing my old wrap-around gown, I purchased a ticket for the pit, hoping that would mean I was well away from anyone who knew me. But I needn’t have worried; the theatre was almost empty. The audience was dispersed around the cramped auditorium in twos and threes with large gaps, and I thought how disheartening it must be for the actors. But once the first scene opened, I was spellbound by my first experience of the theatre. I was with Hellena and Florinda every step of the way as they fought the persecution by their father and brother. When the first act ended, I was breathless with excitement. A touch at my elbow and Mr Charleton’s voice made me jump out of my skin.

  ‘So you did attend after all. But your aunt surely did not let you come alone?’

  ‘She preferred to play cards,’ I said, avoiding an outright lie.

  ‘In common with most of the nation,’ replied Mr Charleton. His smile was enigmatic, and I was almost certain he guessed I was here without permission. ‘But you must join me. It is not the done thing, you know, for young ladies to attend playhouses alone. Your aunt should have warned you.’

  ‘Please, don’t trouble yourself!’ I begged him, but he would not be gainsaid. ‘Come, Miss Williams!’ he said. ‘I’ve come tonight especially to enjoy your company, so you cannot refuse me.’

  ‘You cannot have known I’d be here,’ I objected.

  ‘It was an educated guess, and you have proved me right.’

  I raised my brows in surprise and he grinned. ‘Very well, I confess I happen to live next to the theatre, opposite your house, and saw you pass by. But I was fairly sure you’d be here.’ He led me to a seat beside his and insisted on purchasing me lemonade to refresh myself. I didn’t know how to rid myself of him, but when he began to talk about the performance with me, I forgot about wishing him away, and threw myself into the discussion.

  ‘Hellena is wonderful!’ I agreed enthusiastically. ‘She’s absolutely right to flout her family’s orders and try and enjoy herself before they steal her life from her!’

  ‘No matter what the dangers may be?’ asked Mr Charleton. He leant one arm against the back of my chair and looked down at me.

  ‘What are dangers compared to experiencing life before it is snatched away?’ I cried passionately. ‘She may as well be dead as in a nunnery. I would do the same. Though why she should choose to fall in love is beyond me. I’d find something better to do with my last nights of freedom.’

  ‘I’m sure you would,’ agreed Mr Charleton. ‘Haven’t you already done so?’

  I caught my breath. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I stammered. I was grateful when he calmly changed the subject: ‘And how did you like Alexander Pope? He’s a man of great gifts, is he not?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ I agreed, relieved to be on safe ground again. ‘And I was amazed by how easy he was to talk to.’

  ‘He’s very affable. You see, Miss Williams, we shall have you making friends here in no time.’

  I stiffened, annoyed that the apparently kind introduction had been part of a strategy. ‘I assure you … ’ I began crossly, but at that moment Belvile reappeared on stage. Mr Charleton laid a hand over one of mine and shushed me quietly. I snatched my hand away and sat rigid with indignation in my seat.

  But the moment the players began to speak again, I forgot my anger and became caught up in the performance once more. The second act was even more intense than the first. There was some fine acting, and I was surprised at how the presence of Mr Charleton beside me heightened my enjoyment. He laughed when I laughed and then we both grew still and serious as the tragedy of the jilted courtesan played out on stage.

  I had tears in my eyes at the end of the second act, so moving was the portrayal. I blinked them hurriedly away as Mr Charleton turned to me to ask how I had enjoyed my first visit to the theatre.

  ‘I loved it,’ I sighed happily. ‘I could come here every night. I bought this play, you know, just a few months ago. But before I could finish reading it … ’

  ‘Yes?’ Mr Charleton prompted as I stopped.

  ‘To tell you the truth, sir, my father burned it. He said it was unsuitable.’ I wasn’t sure what made me confide in Mr Charleton. Perhaps it was a mistake. But the sense of injustice still raged in me.

  ‘Severe, but not uncommon,’ Mr Charleton replied. ‘Many girls are banned from reading such works. Hellena’s first speeches against the marriage of young girls to old men are particularly outspoken and often omitted from modern productions. But when you are married you will be allowed to read more freely.’

  ‘Won’t that depend on my husband?’ I asked. ‘After all, my life will be ruled by the decisions men make for me, won’t they?’

  ‘How your eyes sparkle with indignation, Miss Williams,’ commented Mr Charleton. ‘You said earlier that any means were justified in enjoying your freedom. Would that be true even if it involved harm to others? Would you break the law?’

  I sat silent, wondering again how much he guessed or knew about me. Could he possibly know what I’d done this morning? I could feel my heart hammering, and I knew a traitorous heat was rising in my face. I must keep Mr Charleton at arm’s length, or sooner or later I would reveal myself. I stood up hurriedly. ‘I must go.’

  After a penetrating look that took in my heightened colour, he said calmly: ‘Of course. You must allow me to escort you home.’

  This was a fresh danger. I had to think quickly. How to shake off my unwanted companion between here and the other end of Trim Street? If he escorted me, I would be obliged to knock on the front door, and my expedition would be discovered.

  ‘There’s no need,’ I told him. ‘I can walk such a short distance by myself.’

  ‘Oh, I insist,’ he replied. ‘Can I fetch your cloak?’

  ‘My cloak … yes, indeed my cloak,’ I said. ‘Thank you. It’s blue,’ I added with a smile.

  As we rose and walked to the exit together, I contrived to fall a little behind him. He went to fetch my non-existent cloak from the attendant and I slipp
ed back into the auditorium and left it by the only other door I could see. It led backstage to a shabby maze of narrow corridors with the paint peeling off. I ran straight into Hellena, her stage paint garish in the lamp-lit corridor. We stood and stared at one another in confusion for a second.

  ‘You were wonderful,’ I told her, and impulsively I kissed her cheek. ‘You’ve given me courage. Is there a back way out through here? In the spirit of the play, I’m escaping an inconvenient male escort.’

  The young woman suddenly smiled. ‘There is, but it only leads out into the back yard,’ she replied, pointing the way.

  ‘That will be perfect,’ I assured her. I stepped out into the small yard that contained a privy and a number of broken props. I vaulted onto the wall and walked along it until I reached a narrow path at the end. From there it was easy enough to drop down, cross two gardens and circle back across Trim Bridge and into the stable yard. As I snuggled down into my bed, I grinned at the thought of Mr Charleton hunting uselessly for a blue cloak that didn’t exist and wondering where I’d disappeared to.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Mr Charleton never asked me about my disappearance; he merely greeted me the next time we met with his usual politeness. I suspected he knew perfectly well why I’d run away and had only offered to escort me home from a sense of mischief. How much else did he know about me?

  In the following weeks I attended breakfasts, dances, afternoons at Harrison’s, promenades, and services in the abbey. Some days I had to pinch myself to be sure it wasn’t the same endlessly-repeating dull dream. Aunt Amelia disappeared into the card room every afternoon. I stood at the door and watched her take her place at the tables. Obviously I was delighted to have a breathing space from her watchfulness each day, but I was surprised that gambling was becoming such a passion that she left me regularly unsupervised.