At the Highwayman's Pleasure Read online

  ‘Aye, but only small amounts.’

  ‘And my father has no notion he is your target?’

  ‘None at all. My attacks are random enough not to rouse any suspicion, but I only take from those who were instrumental in my conviction.’

  ‘It is still highway robbery,’ Charity reminded him. ‘Is it worth the risk?’

  ‘What have I got to lose?’ He picked up the decanter and refilled their glasses. ‘That was why I held up the Scarborough mail. I was visiting an old friend and I left Robin at the stables adjoining the booking office. Out of habit I checked the waybill for the next coach leaving the Bell and saw a Mrs Weston. I thought it might be Hannah.’

  ‘But surely that was unlikely, since she is now rich enough to have her own carriage.’

  ‘I wondered perhaps if she was up to something without her husband’s knowledge.’ He added roughly, ‘I was not sure what I thought—that she had left him, perhaps. That she had realised just what sort of man he was.’

  Charity wondered if he was still in love with the woman who had betrayed him, if he still hoped she might return to him.

  ‘Instead you found it was me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why...?’ She hesitated. ‘When you knew my name, you could have taken my purse.’

  He shook his head. ‘I believed it was a stage name, a mere coincidence. I did not think anyone as lovely as you could be related to Phineas Weston.’

  Her eyes flew to his face. The words had been matter of fact, indifferent, but they made her heart hammer dreadfully against her ribs. She should be used to compliments, there had been occasions when she was positively showered with them, so why should this one affect her so? Ross was not looking at her, but staring into the fire. He was not even aware of what he had said. She had an irrational desire to laugh, but stifled it and forced herself to think of his predicament, not hers.

  ‘You said there are tenants in the farms again—surely that will bring in an income?’

  ‘The farms were empty for two whole seasons; the continuity is broken. There is an old adage that it takes three years before one can live off the land—corn seed must be bought two years before one wants to eat the bread, beef is at least two years a-growing, and a ewe must suckle and graze her lambs well into a second year before the farmer can have his mutton. I sought out the old tenants and asked them to return, but they have no money for seed or stock and cannot pay me until the land is yielding them a living. Much of the money I have taken from Weston and his cronies has gone to setting them up.’

  ‘I am sure those gentlemen would think their money wisely invested.’

  Her irony was not missed and the harsh look fled as he grinned at her.

  ‘And I am sure they would prefer to use it for their own pleasure!’

  ‘And the woman who took your money in the first place,’ she asked him. ‘What of the new Mrs Weston?’

  He shrugged. ‘Weston is welcome to her. I want only my prize money. Which is where you fit into my plans.’ He rose, saying in the cheerful, jaunty voice of the Dark Rider, ‘Faith, m’dear, ’tis near midnight. Time for me to lock you up again, my fair captive.’

  She sighed, wishing he had not reminded her of her situation. He pulled her to her feet and she stood before him, fixing her eyes on his face as she challenged him once more.

  ‘But how can you let me go, even if my father pays the ransom? I know who you are.’

  ‘And would you tell him?’

  They were standing very close. With every breath the muslin scarf that covered her breasts came within an inch of his waistcoat, yet she could not step back. It was as if some cord was between them, drawing them ever closer.

  She said unhappily, ‘My father would force me to do so. He has that power.’ She gripped his jacket. ‘Don’t trust him, I pray you! Do not give him an excuse in law to question me. Let me go now, let me escape and go back to Allingford. I swear I will tell no one your identity—I will even pay you the ransom. What are you going to ask of Phineas, the full three thousand pounds? It will take me some time, but—’

  ‘No!’ His face darkened and he reached up to pull her hands away. ‘I have told you, it is Phineas who must pay for this. No one else.’ He turned and, keeping a vice-like grip upon one wrist, he almost dragged her out of the room and up the stairs, the companionship they had shared forgotten. When they reached her bedchamber he thrust a bedroom candle into her hands and with a brusque goodnight he shut her in and locked the door.

  Charity sank down on the edge of the bed. She could not blame him for his actions, but she was at a loss to see how he could continue to live at Wheelston even if Phineas did pay her ransom. Once she was free her father would pursue her. He would use every means at his disposal to force from her the identity of her captor. The county boundary would be no protection; he would summon her to appear before him. A shudder ran through her—most likely he would interrogate her in private, and she knew from bitter experience how impossible it was to hold out against him. Once he knew Ross’s identity he would use the full force of the law against him. Ross might have his prize money, but he would not be able to live in peace and enjoy it.

  The problem went round and round in Charity’s head as she made her preparations for sleep, but as she could find no solution, save to run away again, she went to bed feeling more depressed than ever.

  * * *

  The York to Pickering road ran through Stockton Forest, and a wise coachman would always whip up his horses to get through the woodland with the least possible delay. The driver sitting on the fringed hammer cloth of the smart travelling carriage on that icy morning was no exception. As soon as the trees were in sight he flicked his whip over the four beautifully stepping bays and exhorted them to ‘Run, damn it!’

  The trees sheltered the road somewhat, so the heavy snow was not quite so deep here and a carriage could make good progress. They thundered on, the trees rising straight and leafless on each side with their branches overhanging the road, like the columns and roof beams of some great cathedral. There was only one more bend and then they would be able to see the open road ahead of them. The coachman slowed a little and drove his team around the slight curve, only to find the track blocked by an untidy pile of branches and dead wood. Swearing loudly, he hauled on the reins and brought the team to a plunging halt.

  ‘Oho, trouble here, me lad,’ he muttered to the guard beside him. ‘Keep yer eyes peeled.’ Even as he spoke a masked horseman appeared between the trees and he commanded sternly, ‘Right, Joe, let ’im have it!’

  The guard pulled the trigger, but instead of the loud reverberation there was only the click of the hammer on an empty chamber. An angry bellow came from the carriage below them.

  ‘What is it? What’s afoot?’

  ‘Highway robbery, Mr Weston,’ the coachman called down to his master, adding bitterly, ‘and Joe forgot to load the shotgun.’

  ‘I did not! I—’

  A loud, cheerful voice interrupted him.

  ‘Whist now, gentlemen, will ye cease yer quarrelling? Don’t be blamin’ yer man, there, for he did check his pops right enough and they was loaded, but that was before you both took yourselves indoors to break your fast, which was when I removed the bullets—and I also removed ’em from that little pop gun you keeps in the carriage, too, Magistrate, in case you was thinkin’ to shoot me with it.’

  ‘The Dark Rider,’ muttered the coachman. ‘I thought we was safe from ’im this far west.’

  ‘Ah, well, now, it’s mistaken you were, but just you keep still up there and you’ll be safe enough.’ The horseman rode closer, grinning at the angry red face glaring at him from inside the carriage.

  ‘Well, get on with it, you scoundrel. What do you want?’

  ‘To parley, Mr Weston. Will ye not step into the trees with me?
Your men can busy themselves clearing the path while we talk.’

  ‘Parley?’ roared the magistrate. ‘I have nothing to say to you, sirrah.’

  ‘Have ye not? After you moved that precious marble bust into the window yesterday, an’ all.’

  Phineas stared at him in silence for a long moment.

  ‘Oh, so you are the blackguard who sent me that note, are you? Very well, I suppose we must talk.’ He climbed down from the coach, cursing as he sank ankle deep into the snow, completely swamping his buckled shoes.

  ‘Come over here where we’ll not be overheard,’ the masked man ordered, dismounting. ‘And tell yer lackeys not to think o’ followin’ us. I’ll put a bullet through the first one to try.’

  Through the slits of his mask Ross watched as Phineas Weston approached, stepping gingerly through the snow, grumbling all the time.

  ‘Damned inconvenient place to meet.’

  ‘Sure, and you’d prefer an inn, I suppose,’ replied Ross cheerfully. ‘Where you could set a trap for me.’

  ‘Well, what do you want?’

  ‘You know what I want. Payment for the safe return of your daughter.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘Ye’d be foolish to do that, Mr Weston.’

  Phineas gave a harsh laugh.

  ‘Why? What interest do I have in that daughter of Satan?’

  The viciousness of the reply surprised Ross, but he said merely, ‘Why, man, she’s yer own flesh and blood. And a damned fine actress, too.’

  ‘Damned fine whore more like,’ snarled Weston, his callous words making Ross long to strike him. ‘No, you keep her, sir, with my compliments.’

  Ross caught his breath. Was Charity right after all? Did this man have no paternal feelings whatsoever? He pretended to consider the matter.

  ‘Mebbe I will keep her. She’s a handsome wench and would warm my bed at night. But what happens when I make it known that you turned yer back on her? Your own daughter.’

  ‘Who’s to say she is my daughter? I have never owned it.’

  Ross shook his head.

  ‘Tush now, are you denying all those rumours? And you, such a God-fearing Christian. There’s many will be shocked to hear of it, I’m sure. Ah, well, if that’s the way it is, we’ve nothing else to say to each other—’

  ‘Wait.’ Phineas frowned and began to pace up and down. ‘You are right, damn you. She has built up a following for herself. I hear they come from as far afield as York to see her. It would ruin my reputation if ’twas known I’d refused to help, for all the girl’s a damned nuisance.’ He stopped and shot a fierce glaring look at Ross. ‘So what’s your price?’

  ‘Two thousand guineas.’

  ‘What? Out of the question.’

  ‘Fustian,’ retorted Ross. ‘You paid as much for that little filly you had running at York races last year.’

  Phineas shook his head. ‘No, it’s too much. After all, I have no interest in the jade. I’ll not acknowledge her, whatever the rumours. She’s a disgrace to me, to my name. An abomination.’

  ‘She’s your daughter.’

  Phineas gave a savage laugh. ‘She’s the devil’s spawn, flaunting herself in public as she does. No, sir, “if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out”. Do away with her, with my blessing.’

  ‘Holy Mother, but it’s an unnatural father you are!’ exclaimed Ross, forcing himself to laugh. ‘But if that’s your final word, we’ll see what her friends at the theatre will pay—’

  He whistled for Robin to come to him, but through the slits of the mask he was watching Phineas, who was scowling and rubbing his chin.

  ‘No, wait,’ said the magistrate, an arrested look in his eye. ‘Perhaps you are God’s instrument in this,’ he mused, ‘sent to rid me of this troublesome wench.’ He straightened and looked at Ross. ‘Very well, I will give you two thousand guineas. Only I don’t want her alive.’

  Ross clenched his jaw to prevent an exclamation of abhorrence.

  ‘Go on.’

  Phineas’s eyes were gleaming. He continued in a conspiratorial manner, ‘Get her to write me another letter—I presume she did pen the last one? I wouldn’t recognise her hand, but no doubt her friends in the theatre would do so and we must make it credible. Put in your demands. I’ll agree to pay you the two thousand guineas, but then there must be some sort of...accident. Leave the body on the Beringham side of the county border and I will make sure the perpetrator of this heinous crime is never discovered.’

  Ross felt the bile rising in his throat and he could not prevent his mouth twisting in a way that Phineas rightly interpreted as repugnance. The magistrate’s own lip curled.

  ‘Why so squeamish, man? What difference is it to you what happens to her? She is a beauty, I’ll grant you that, so do with her as you wish while we play out this charade, but you’ll not get a penny from me if she remains alive.’

  Ross forced another laugh. ‘By our Lady, ’tis an ingenious plan you’ve thought up there. But how d’you square it with your conscience, being a preacher man, an’ all?’

  ‘The Lord is a vengeful and an angry God, and some souls are too far sunk into wickedness to be saved.’ Phineas raised his arms and cried to the sky, ‘“O daughter of Babylon, who are to be destroyed!”’ He brought his savage gaze back to Ross. ‘My daughter proved herself past praying for when she defied me and ran away thirteen years ago. I cast her off then, but now she has come back to mock me. Her presence in Allingford is a constant taunt, an affront to God. In you He has shown me a way to do His justice. So do we have a bargain?’

  Ross shrugged.

  ‘Why not?’ He swung himself into the saddle. ‘I’ll contact you shortly to let you know where to leave the money.’

  ‘Remember,’ said Phineas, ‘there will be no payment if she lives.’

  With a final nod Ross turned his horse and rode away.

  That had not gone the way he had intended. Not at all.

  * * *

  Charity awoke to a feeling of foreboding. No one had knocked and called her down to breakfast. She dressed quickly and tried the door. It was not locked, so she dragged a shawl around her shoulders and made her way through the unheated passages to the kitchen. The house had an empty, hollow feel to it; no one answered her call. When she saw Jed in the yard she went out to speak to him. Samson was at the door and barked as she stepped outside, but he did not prevent her from following Jed into the stables.

  ‘Where is Mr Durden?’

  ‘He ain’t come home yet, ma’am.’

  She spotted the tin of blacking on the bench beside Robin’s empty stall.

  ‘Is he— Has he gone out as the Dark Rider?’

  Jed nodded. ‘Set off before dawn, he did. Said he knew Weston had business that would mean ’im putting up in York last night and was going to catch ’im on the way home.’

  Charity put her hands to her cheeks. She recalled Ross telling her that Phineas always travelled with an armed guard. What if he had been wounded, or worse? He might even now be languishing in York gaol. Or he might have succeeded and negotiated her release. The thought was even more chilling. How much would Phineas be willing to pay, and what would he demand from her in return?

  ‘Don’t you be worryin’ about the master,’ said Jed, misinterpreting her anxiety. ‘He’ll be back soon enough.’

  ‘I wasn’t worrying about Mr Durden.’ At least, not much.

  Jed frowned. ‘I hope you ain’t planning to run off again, ma’am, ’cos I have orders....’

  Charity thought of the snow, still knee-deep all around the house.

  ‘No, I have learned my lesson there. I shall wait indoors for Mr Durden’s return.’

  With a nod she went back to the house. The fire in the kitchen was burning well, so she made coffee fo
r herself, then rummaged in the larder for something to eat.

  Once she had broken her fast she felt a little better, and the future did not seem quite so bleak. If Ross had succeeded, she hoped she could persuade him to take her back to the theatre. She would be safe there, at least until she could make her plans and disappear again. It was not ideal, but she was determined she would not allow herself to fall into Phineas’s clutches.

  * * *

  The hall clock was striking midday when Ross at last came in. Charity was reading in the kitchen, her chair pulled close to the range for warmth. She jumped when the door opened.

  ‘Oh! I did not hear you. I—’

  He interrupted her without apology.

  ‘Jed is preparing the carriage now. Collect your things and he will take you back to Allingford.’

  ‘What has happened?’ she demanded, alarmed by the urgency in his tone. ‘Why must I hurry?’

  Ross stepped up to the table and began to pull off his gloves.

  ‘Phineas will not pay,’ he said shortly. ‘I am letting you go.’

  She frowned.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘What is so difficult about that?’ His response was almost a snarl. ‘Jed is going to take you home as soon as you are ready. Excuse me. I have a great deal to do.’

  He strode out and she followed him across the hall to the study.

  ‘But what about you?’

  ‘That need not concern you.’ He was pulling papers from his desk, paying her very little heed.

  ‘But...Wheelston?’

  ‘Once it is known that I am the Dark Rider, Wheelston will be forfeit to the Crown. The tenants should be able to start paying their rents next Lady Day, so I hope they will be allowed to remain.’

  She pulled the shawl a little tighter around her.

  ‘Has my father discovered your identity?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Then you think I will reveal it?’

  He looked up.

  ‘You told me yourself he would force it out of you. I would rather he did not have to. I would not have you suffer for my sake.’