Highwayman's Hazard Read online

  She ignored him, and as soon as she was through the trap she closed it, shutting out the light from the candles and trying to ignore the low chuckle that followed her into the loft.

  'Sarah, is that you?' came the terrified whisper from the corner, and Sarah began to grope her way towards the sound.

  'Hush, Clarinda, we must not permit him to know I'm a girl. He hasn't guessed, and I told him our names were Robert and Mary Smith. I don't think he believed me,' she added reflectively, 'and I could have bitten out my tongue for not choosing a less common name, but I doubt if he would have believed anything. He thinks we are eloping,' she added, and Clarinda giggled.

  'What does he mean to do? Can we try to escape?'

  'He says he will tell us tomorrow, and I doubt if we could escape. But I am too weary to think of it. I hope he attends to the horse,' she added, and lay down on a thin straw pallet. 'Let us sleep.'

  'I could not,' Clarinda shuddered, but she lay down beside Sarah and was soon breathing evenly while Sarah, her mind a tangle of bewildering thoughts and speculations, lay wide eyed and sleepless, listening for every slight sound from below.

  Eventually she dozed, and awoke some hours later when the trapdoor was flung open.

  'Breakfast is ready,' the highwayman announced, and Sarah realised that she was astonishingly hungry. 'You can wash at the well. I've drawn a bucket of water.'

  They had not removed their clothes the previous night, and when they had scrambled down the ladder and out through the small rear door of the cottage, which led through an outhouse into a small yard where hens pecked busily, Sarah laughed at their dishevellment.

  'You've straw in your hair,' she commented, patting her own wig, which had not suffered this fate.

  'How can you laugh?' Clarinda demanded.

  Sarah shrugged. She was no longer weary and her usual buoyant spirits had reasserted themselves.

  'I cannot think he means to harm us. We shall soon escape, or he will release us. Remember, we have been visiting relatives in Leicester and are on our way home to Harrogate. Your name is Mary Smith, mine is Robert, and I think we had better be brother and sister. Let me answer any other questions.'

  Clarinda nodded, and after they had tidied themselves as best they could they returned to the cottage to find mugs of ale and platters of sliced beef and ham laid on the table. The highwayman was already eating and he waved them to be seated.

  *

  When they had eaten, Sarah turned to him.

  'What do you intend to do with us?' she asked abruptly.

  He grinned, and she had difficulty in restraining herself from responding, it was such an engaging smile.

  'First I need answers to some questions, Robert Smith,' he said mockingly. 'That is not your name and I wish to know the truth.'

  Sarah shook her head. 'You must believe us,' she answered calmly.

  'Are you eloping?' he asked. 'You need not fear I shall betray you, but there is information I think you can give me. If you are sensible I will send you on your way.'

  'Mary is my sister,' Sarah said coldly. 'As I told you, we are going back home to Harrogate.'

  'What have you to do with Forleys?' he asked quietly, and smiled in satisfaction as Clarinda cast a despairing glance at Sarah.

  'Forleys?' Sarah asked calmly. 'What is that?'

  'Do not try my patience too far,' he warned, and the sudden sharp note in his voice made Clarinda gasp with fear, while Sarah revised her opinion that he was really not greatly to be feared. 'Almost the first words I heard when I recovered my senses last night were to the effect you feared being sent back there. What connection do you have with it?'

  'Why do you wish to know?' Sarah countered.

  'You need fear no betrayal. I wish to discover the name of the man who sold it to the present owner, Mr Middlewick.'

  'Why?' Sarah asked blankly.

  'I have business with him,' the highwayman replied smoothly, 'but I do not know his identity. I think you might.'

  'He is dead, so far as I know. Very well, we did visit near Forleys, but know little of Mr Middlewick's affairs. He bought the property only a year or so back, but it had been empty for several years until that time. Sir James Orde, who owned it, was rarely there, and he died.'

  'It belonged to someone else before Mr Middlewick bought it. I am asking you to whom? You appear to know more than you admitted last night.'

  'But that is all I know,' Sarah protested. 'I have heard nought of any other owner, and I am certain no one else ever lived there. The village – the village nearby would have been agog with curiosity.'

  'You know a great deal for someone living in Harrogate,' he remarked, and she flushed, and took refuge in anger.

  'We have relatives nearby. Not Leicester, as I said, but quite near Forleys. Obviously they talk of the doings there.'

  'One lie admitted. I see I must keep you here until I have the entire truth.'

  'That is all we know!' Clarinda exclaimed. 'My father – '

  Sarah kicked her ankle sharply, and Clarinda suppressed a gasp of pain and then looked guiltily at Sarah.

  'Our father travels frequently to London and always visits these relatives, and from him and them we hear a great deal, but I swear we have heard nothing of any owner between Sir James Orde and Mr Middlewick,' Sarah repeated.

  The man looked her steadily, then shrugged.

  'I'll keep you here awhile until my arm mends. You, Robert Smith, go and tend the horses. I did little more than rub them down and feed them last night. The stable needs sweeping and fresh straw laid. Don't try to ride off, or your so-called sister will suffer. She can cook for us after she has changed my bandage.'

  'I'll do that for you,' Sarah offered, seeing that Clarinda dreaded the need for close contact with their captor, and he did not object. While Clarinda cleared away the remains of the meal and swept the stone flagged floor Sarah dealt with the wound. It was clean, but the man clearly found it more painful than it had been the previous night, and moved stiffly when he had to take off his coat and shirt. Once Sarah had bathed the wound and applied an unguent he produced he seemed able to move it more easily, and afterwards took her outside to the stable to show her where everything was kept.

  *

  There was no opportunity for escape. Sarah might have been able to elude him by herself, but she dared not after his threats to Clarinda, and they were never permitted to be alone together. There were a surprising number of tasks to be completed, and when they sat down to supper Sarah was thankful to rest. Grooming horses and chopping wood and drawing water were far more strenuous tasks than she had before appreciated.

  'How long do you propose to keep us prisoners?' she demanded as they drew their stools to the table and Clarinda ladled out the stew she had made.

  'Either until you tell me what I wish to know, or until I have no further need of your services,' he replied calmly.

  'We have told you, we do not know any other owner of Forleys,' Sarah said angrily. 'Are we to remain slaves here?'

  'You have made it difficult for me to do everything necessary myself,' he replied reasonably.

  'If you had not held us up you would not be injured!' Sarah snapped. 'I'm going to bed!'

  'Oh, no, not yet, my young friend. I have another task before the day is done.'

  'But it is sunset already.'

  'Just the right time. Saddle the horses, if you please. Your pony can be used as a saddle horse. There is a saddle and bridle to fit him.'

  Sarah stared at him blankly. 'Saddle the horses?'

  'Yes, we are going out.'

  'All of us? Where do you take us?'

  'Not your dear sister Mary. She will remain in the loft as a guarantee of your good behaviour, young man. But you are a capable horseman judging by the manner in which you handled Star last night. He will not permit anyone on his back. You should be able to manage your own beast adequately.'

  'But – where do we go?'

  'Come, less innocence. I was
not lying in wait for you in particular, my children. There are other travellers along the road to Newark. I desire to make their acquaintance, and you are going to be my assistant, my apprentice, let us say.'

  'You would make me a highwayman?' Sarah asked blankly.

  'I doubt if you've the stomach for it,' he replied, somewhat contemptuously. 'However, I may need your assistance while my arm is healing. You will have to make do without weapons for fear you turn them on to me, but we shall contrive. Here, put on this mask. It would not do for you to be recognised!'

  'I will not!' Sarah protested, outraged, and stood up hastily as the highwayman advanced towards her. He seized Clarinda's hand however, and dragged her close to him.

  'You'd not want your – sister – hurt, I think?' he asked. 'Get up the ladder,' he added to Clarinda, and she was so thankful to find his grip on her gone she obeyed immediately.

  Sarah ground her teeth in fury. They might, between them, have been able to overpower him, but Clarinda was clearly too terrified even to make the effort.

  'You are despicable,' was all she could find to say, and he laughed in amusement.

  'Perhaps I have my reasons. Well, do you ride with me or shall I join your sister in the loft?'

  Sarah turned abruptly away.

  'Leave her alone, you bully,' she said curtly.

  He laughed softly.

  'Do not fear, no one will discover you here. The cottage is well hid,' he called up to Clarinda as he pulled away the ladder. Then he picked up his sword and followed Sarah out to the small stable.

  *

  Chapter 3

  'It is so pointless!' Sarah said some hours later when she had returned to the cottage and was once more in the loft with Clarinda.

  'What is? What happened?'

  'We waited in the same spot where he held us up. Several carriages went past, and a few riders. He let most of them go. When I asked why, he said he knew them and they did not have what he wanted, and he laughed.'

  'I suppose they were not likely to have any money. He would know the local people,' Clarinda suggested.

  'Yes, but he was not interested in money. That is the crazy part of it,' Sarah said, frowning.

  'Then what did he want? Jewels?'

  'No. One or two of the people we stopped were so terrified they threw purses at him, but he gave them back. All he did was make the men remove their wigs. After he had inspected them – and I must say it was funny to see how some of them cringed at having to show their shaven heads – he would ride off and leave them to go on their way. He does not wear a wig himself,' she added inconsequentially.

  'He took off their wigs?' asked Clarinda, incredulously. 'Why on earth should he do that?'

  'I've no more idea now than when we started. He refused to explain. But he did not find whatever it was he was looking for.'

  'Why do you think he is so interested in Forleys?' Clarinda asked after a slight pause.

  'I've no notion. All I really care about is getting away from him. There is no hope of escaping from this loft during the night, though. If only I could find my gun I would shoot him again!'

  'I expect he keeps it in his room. But you would not really shoot him, would you?'

  'Yes, I would,' Sarah declared fiercely, although privately she wondered whether she could bring herself to use the pistol in cold blood.

  'When can we look for it?' Clarinda asked, believing implicity in her friend's determination.

  Sarah considered. 'We could threaten him,' she said slowly. 'We could take away his horse so that he could not follow us. When he is outside again and I am cleaning the stables – for I assume he will expect the same of us tomorrow – try to search his room. If you cannot find the pistol bring a dagger, anything.'

  *

  With that she turned over and went to sleep, for it had been a most exhausting day. For three more days they followed the same routine, but Clarinda reported that the door to the highwayman's room was always locked, and they were unsuccessful in their search for a weapon.

  At first, when the highwayman questioned them about Forleys they protested total ignorance above what they had already told him. Then Sarah pretended to recall a name and said that she was certain he had been mentioned as an owner of the estate, but their captor merely laughed.

  'I might have believed you had you produced the name on the first or second day,' he sneered contemptuously. 'It is too late to cozen me now with your tricks.'

  'Then if you won't believe whatever we say, why do you keep us here?' Sarah demanded angrily.

  'You still have your uses,' he replied.

  It was true that his arm although healing fast was still stiff, but he was capable, she thought angrily, of doing all necessary for himself. Possibly he merely wished to make use of their work about the cottage.

  Each evening she was forced to accompany him on his expeditions and they differed little from the first. Watching carefully she realised he did not stop carriages with women alone, escorted only by servants, or men who wore no wigs. Why did he have this odd preoccupation with what lay beneath them? Once she tried to question him, but he ignored her completely, as though he had not even heard her.

  On the fourth evening, however, as he dealt with a spluttering, incoherently angry man who clearly suffered greatly from excess dignity, and protested vigorously at the command to bare his head, two more men appeared and were immediately appealed to for aid.

  Instantly the highwayman seized the reins of Sarah's horse and set off across the fields. Despite the gloom he went at a headlong gallop, leaving the others, who had begun a half hearted pursuit, far behind them.

  Sarah, when she realised his intention, attempted to break away from his grasp, hoping to find allies in these men, but he gave her no opportunity and soon they were concealed in some trees, their pursuers lost.

  'You are not going to escape like that,' he said, with a laugh which infuriated the bitterly disappointed Sarah.

  'Your arm is almost mended now. There is no reason in keeping us further,' she protested, as they rode slowly back to the cottage in the darkness. 'You will not believe what we tell you now, so even if we knew more, which we do not, it would serve you no good.'

  'Mayhap I have designs on your sister,' he said lightly. 'She's a vastly pretty wench when she does not look terrified out of her wits.'

  Sarah did not reply. She had been afraid of something of this nature ever since he had used threats against Clarinda to force her own compliance. It was clear he found the girl attractive, with her petite beauty, her fair, feathery curls, and delicate pink and white complexion. All the way back to the cottage she was silent, racking her brains fruitlessly for a plan of escape.

  *

  She had thought of none by the next evening, and once more had to make ready for their nightly work. If an opportunity presented itself of appealing to one of the travellers they held up, she was determined to take it. If one of them was armed, and looked strong and intelligent, she planned anxiously, she would contrive to fling herself on the highwayman to impede him and hope their prey would come to the rescue.

  Twice they approached travellers, but one was a fat jelly of a man who stuttered in fear and was barely capable of driving away when the highwayman had dealt with him, and the other was an elderly man fully occupied with calming his hysterical wife, who clung to him and begged ceaselessly for mercy. They were neither of them what Sarah needed.

  The next traveller, however, seemed more possible. He was mounted and had saddle holsters, and was wearing a sword which he drew immediately on being challenged.

  The highwayman rode closer, his own sword at the ready, and engaged the other. Star was perfectly trained and accustomed to the clash of steel, but the traveller's horse tried to back away in alarm. While his rider struggled to maintain his seat the highwayman stretched forward and, with a quick twist of his sword pulled the rider's wig clear from his head.

  Sarah was close beside Star, waiting for an opportunity o
f intervening. The highwayman carried pistols although he had never used them while she had been with him, but she hoped to snatch one from his holster. She leant over to reach for one when Star suddenly swerved away and the wildly slashing sword of the stranger caught her outstretched arm and then, as the shock caused her to draw back, pricked her mount in the shoulder.

  The pony, thoroughly alarmed and with no control since Sarah had dropped the reins, reared and then plunged away into the trees. Sarah, aware of a searing pain just above her elbow, tried desperately to catch at the reins, but to no avail, and before she knew what had happened was swept out of the saddle by a low branch.

  Shaken and dazed by the fall, she lay there unable to move, aware of galloping hooves receding into the distance. Then she opened her eyes and struggled to sit up. Had she escaped, she wondered, her thoughts in chaos, but then became aware of dead twigs cracking a short distance off, and turned her head painfully to see the highwayman riding slowly towards her, ducking his head to avoid the branches which had brought her to grief.

  He dismounted and knelt beside her.

  'Are you badly hurt?' he asked curtly. 'What the deuce were you trying to do?'

  'His sword caught my arm,' she replied. 'He frightened the pony. I shall be able to walk in a moment.'

  'Stay where you are. I want to look at that arm.'

  She attempted to struggle, but was too dazed and bewildered to resist as he eased off her coat. There was blood running from her elbow to wrist, but it was not a great deal.

  'You'll survive. Best take off your shirt so I can see the extent of it.'

  Dimly Sarah heard what he said and began to struggle in earnest to evade him.

  'Keep still, confound you! There's no need for me to tear the sleeve out of your shirt as you did to mine.'

  He loosened her cravat and began to unbutton the shirt. Suddenly his hands faltered as he encountered the swell of her breasts, and he looked down into her terrified face.

  'So,' he breathed lightly, and his shoulders began to shake with laughter. 'I have unmasked you now, Robert Smith! Very well, you may preserve your modesty. I'll try to roll up your sleeve instead.'