The Girl in the Mask (25 page)

I silently cursed Mr Charleton for taking my own stash of money. If I’d still had it, I’d have given Jenny what she needed and called this dangerous robbery off. Should I ask Mr Charleton? Tell him the trouble a friend of mine was in and ask for my money back? No, he’d never believe me now.

Jenny pulled up and I reined in beside her. The night was very still without the thud of our horses’ hooves or the creak of leather. ‘This is the spot I picked,’ she told me.

‘Very well,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I’ll help you just this once if we try a decoy.’ The incident of the carriage crash on Lansdown was fresh in my mind. Drivers were suspicious of decoys, yes, but what if it was one they
had
to stop for?

‘Hold on a moment,’ said Jenny belligerently. ‘Are
you
telling
me
how we’re going to do this? Or am I hearing wrong?’

‘No, you’re hearing right,’ I retorted.

‘And how many carriages have you held up so far? In your long, experienced career on the High Toby?’ she demanded sarcastically.

‘Just the one, as you well know, but … ’

‘Whereas I bin playing this game since you was still wetting your napkins, so let me decide how we’ll do it.’

‘Firstly, you’re not much older than me, so let’s not compare pot-training,’ I said. ‘Secondly, if you’ve got an idea that doesn’t involve crippling two horses and risking us getting shot, I’m happy to hear it.’

A long silence hung between us. I was the first to break it: ‘Will you at least hear my idea? There’s less danger if we stop the wrong carriage, for they won’t see the pistols. And if we’re caught, there have been no horses killed, so it’s a less serious crime.’

‘Don’t fool yourself,’ said Jenny bitterly. ‘This is a hanging matter either way.’ She sighed. ‘Go on then. Spit it out.’

I started to strip off my coat, and then my shirt. ‘Put your gown back on, and get your pistol out,’ I said, handing her my shirt and pulling my coat on again, buttoning it up. ‘Wrap that up to look like a baby. You’re going to be a damsel in distress.’

When I’d explained my plan to her, Jenny sniffed disapprovingly. ‘I don’t see why I should be the one in petticoats, nor with a babby,’ she said. ‘Why can’t you do that bit?’

‘You’re the one with a gown,’ I retorted. I’d barely persuaded her to play her part as I wanted, when we heard the distant sounds of a carriage. Jenny hurried to lie in the road clutching her white linen bundle, and I concealed myself in the trees. I buttoned my black coat and pulled my mask down over my head with some distaste. It was fashioned from an old, smelly stocking, with holes cut into it to see through. To my mind, a proper mask would be required to give highway robbery the romance and flair it was generally credited with. I adjusted the unsatisfactory mask, and tucked my pistol into my coat. It was loaded, as Jenny had told me, but not cocked.

A few moments later, I saw Jenny get up from the road and melt into the trees. I frowned, wondering what she was playing at. The carriage would be upon us at any moment and we’d miss it. Sure enough, only a few moments later, it swept around the corner. I relaxed. It was a post-chaise drawn by four horses, a coachman handling the reins, an ostler riding one of the lead horses and a groom on the box seat nursing a large, heavy weapon.

As it passed me, I breathed a sigh of relief that we hadn’t tried to meddle with it. Jenny was beside me in the darkness, a shadow under the trees, her white bundle the only thing that was visible. ‘You get an ear for whether it’s two horses or four,’ she said in my ear. ‘With experience, that is.’

Her tone was mocking; before I could retort she’d vanished again. A solitary rider passed us, but otherwise the night was still for nearly an hour before we heard the sound of another vehicle. It was a warm night, but I was growing chilled standing so still, and my nerves were on edge with the tension. I could see Jenny at some distance from me, listening carefully. All at once, she stepped quite deliberately out into the road and lay down. I guessed the carriage we wanted was on its way. I wiped my hand on my breeches and gripped my pistol.

Everything happened very fast. The curricle came round the corner at a slapping pace, and Jenny began to cry out and wave a grubby pocket handkerchief frantically at the driver. ‘Help me!’ she cried. ‘Please help!’

I held my breath. For one appalling instant I thought the curricle wasn’t going to stop in time. But the driver saw Jenny and pulled up his pair at the last moment, with Jenny almost under their feet. At the same time, whilst both men’s attention was on Jenny, I left the treeline and dropped down behind the curricle, hiding in its shadow.

‘See if she’s all right, will you, Baines,’ said a heartstoppingly familiar voice. I froze in horror and crouched lower.

‘Sir, this could be a trap,’ I heard the second man urge.

‘Then take your pistol, but we can’t drive over the girl,’ pointed out the first voice reasonably. ‘There are laws against that sort of thing.’

The servant stood up. As he did so, I caught hold of the back of the curricle with one hand. I paused, holding my breath until the moment when the servant Baines climbed down clumsily into the road. At exactly the same time, I hoisted myself up behind them, hoping that my own weight on the curricle would go unnoticed. Baines seemed to be an older man, not very agile, which gave Jenny an easier task than I was going to have.

I was experiencing a heady mix of horror and exhilaration. A part of me wished I could call to Jenny and stop this robbery in its tracks. But it was too late. So I threw myself into it, revelling in the danger and the reckless adventure. After all, there was a wonderful irony in robbing Mr Charleton in revenge for stealing my things. For it was his voice; I was almost certain of it.

The servant was bending over Jenny now, pistol in hand, asking her if she was hurt. She was weeping loudly, covering any sounds I might make, and crying out her concern for her poor sick ‘babby’ and how she’d sprained her ankle.

That was when Baines made his mistake. With one last glance around him, he tucked his pistol into his waistband and bent to scoop Jenny up in his arms and move her from the roadway. Knowing what was coming, I eased my own pistol out of my coat and pressed its cold nose into Mr Charleton’s neck.

‘Don’t move,’ I whispered in his ear. I felt his sharp intake of breath, the tension in his body in front of mine. He knew now what was happening, but was powerless to shout a warning to his servant. Baines too had frozen, the muzzle of Jenny’s pistol appearing instead of a baby as she unwrapped her bundle.

‘Arms up, very slowly,’ I whispered to Mr Charleton. He sat quite still, not moving.

‘This is a mistake,’ he said. ‘You’ll regret this.’

I saw his hand stealing towards his coat and knew I had to convince him. Reluctantly, I drew back the safety catch on my pistol until it clicked. I was now pointing a loaded, primed weapon straight at Mr Charleton’s throat. The thought that the gun could go off in my hand made me shake, but I did my best to put my fear aside.

Mr Charleton was taking me seriously now. His hands were moving slowly into the air, his lace ruffles falling back from his wrists. Taking great care not to put any pressure on the trigger I held, I reached around him slipping my hand inside his coat. My fingers met the cold iron of a pistol and I withdrew it carefully, dropping it into the road.

I felt inside his coat again. I couldn’t find the papers. Then I noticed that his waistcoat was unyielding under my fingers and guessed they were inside it. I slid my hand inside his waistcoat and there they were; a bundle of folded sheets.

I could feel Mr Charleton’s heart beating strongly through the thin layer of his shirt and somehow that unnerved me more than anything else had done so far. I quickly drew the packet of papers from his waistcoat. My mind started noticing strange things, like the fact that they were still warm from the heat of his body.

‘I don’t want papers,’ I growled softly, trying to make my voice gruff and hoarse and as unlike my own as possible. ‘Where’s yer purse?’

‘If you don’t want papers, then give them back to me and I’ll tell you where my money is,’ Mr Charleton replied, remarkably calmly for a man with a gun at his neck.

‘Give us the money and I’ll think about it,’ I said, sliding the papers swiftly into my own coat behind his back.

I heard Mr Charleton catch his breath, and bit my lip, hoping my voice had not given me away. How could he possibly guess who I was? He thought me at home, safely tucked in bed, not out on the king’s highway with pistols and an accomplice.

His next words made me even more suspicious that he’d guessed my identity: ‘I fear I’ve hidden my purse in my breeches,’ he said lazily.

I stood quite still, balanced on the back of the curricle. Mr Charleton was playing a game with me and this was check. I wasn’t about to explore his breeches and he knew it. I blushed hot at the very thought.

‘At the front, on the right-hand side,’ he added helpfully.

Still I made no move. I was torn between calling his bluff and sheer embarrassment, my free hand clenched indecisively at his shoulder. ‘Would you like me to get it out for you?’ he asked, his voice mocking me.

‘You keep your hands where I can see ’em,’ I said as gruffly as I could.

‘I make no such requirement of you, you see,’ replied Mr Charleton, not moving. ‘Please, help yourself.’

I didn’t know what to do. Every second we delayed put us in greater danger. I decided to give up on the purse. Reluctant as I was to steal any personal possessions from him, I was forced to do so to make the robbery look real. From his left hand, I drew a gold signet ring. Then I reached into the lace of his cravat, seeking the pin I knew he always wore there and drew it out. These would have to suffice.

‘I’ve got you covered,’ I whispered. ‘A man is pointing another gun straight at your head from the side of the road. If you move in the next few minutes he’ll shoot you dead.’

I prepared to jump back down into the road, but Mr Charleton’s voice made me pause. ‘For pity’s sake, Sophia, if it really is you,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t take those papers. You cannot possibly understand the consequences if you do. I’ll give you what money I have on me. And yours too.’

I hesitated. Would it be better for Jenny to have whatever sum of money Charleton carried about him, or the five guineas she’d been promised? I decided the risk of exchanging more words with Charleton and the insuperable barrier of those breeches outweighed the possible benefits to my friend.

‘I dunno what you’re talkin’ about. Don’t move,’ I repeated and dropped into the road. I ran into the trees at a crouch. Seeing me go, Jenny left Baines and vanished into the shadows. Both men sat still and silent in their places for a moment. But as I reached the trees and turned, I saw Mr Charleton jump down into the road, groping for his pistol. I waited until he straightened up, the moonlight gleaming on his gun. Then I took very careful aim and shot his hat off his head. The horses startled and plunged and Baines cried out in shock. Only Mr Charleton remained quite still in the darkness. Side by side, Jenny and I flung ourselves onto our horses and made off swiftly into the night.

There was no delighted exhilaration following this robbery as there had been after we waylaid my father. The situation was too dangerous for laughter. ‘He recognized me,’ I cried low-voiced to Jenny as we cantered across the moonlit fields. ‘I
have
to get home before him, or I’ll be in such trouble.’

Jenny nodded, tight-faced, and instead of taking me back to the stables, she led the way at a swift trot through villages and across fields until we reached the city walls. ‘Give me the stuff and go,’ she said, riding close to the wall where a tree grew up against it. I stuffed the papers, jewellery and pistols into the saddlebag, and kicked my feet out of the stirrups.

‘Watch yourself,’ I told her earnestly. ‘Hide everything where it can’t be connected to you. I think we may have done something more serious than we realized tonight.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Jenny brusquely. ‘Jest get yerself home.’

She caught the bridle of my horse and held him, while I stood up on his back, and from there swung myself into the branches of the tree. ‘Go!’ I called as I crawled onto the city wall.

Jenny nodded her farewell, and led my horse away at a brisk pace, fading into the darkness as I dropped down into the street on the inside of the wall. I was back in the city, but I still had some distance to go to reach my room. By the time I crawled back through my window, I was panting, fighting for breath, my toes and hands scratched from clinging to the stonework. My biggest problem had been what to do with my clothes, for they would be my greatest risk of betrayal. I’d hidden them between the straw bales in the loft of the stable yard and climbed up onto the roof in my shift and bare feet.

As soon as I dropped into my room, I could hear voices. My father’s was raised in anger. What must he think to be roused in the middle of the night? I shut down the sash window behind me. Dragging my nightgown on over my sweaty shift, I dived between the sheets. Already heavy feet were mounting the stairs. At any minute they would be with me. I lay still, trying to regulate my breathing, trying desperately to quiet my heartbeat, but not succeeding. The door of my room burst open, and my father marched in, holding an oil lamp aloft.

‘There you see my daughter, gentlemen. In bed, as I assured you. What trouble could she possibly be in at this time of night?’

I looked at the men, wincing in the light, feigning sleepiness and confusion. I was aware my cheeks were hot from running and my hair tangled, and so I groaned softly. ‘Father,’ I murmured. ‘I have such a pain in my stomach.’

He bent over me, resting one cool hand on my brow. ‘You’re burning, child,’ he said pretending unusual fatherly solicitude. ‘You have a fever!’

‘I’ve been lying here … too ill to call out,’ I whispered, playing along.

I was aware of the men taking an involuntary step back from me, fear of contagion in their faces. ‘I shall call a physician at once,’ my father promised. He turned back to the men. ‘As you can see, my daughter is ill. That should satisfy you. Now I wish you to leave.’