The Highwayman's Mistress (2 page)

 
“Is this true?” Her mother glanced her way,
eyebrow raised. “What is the name of this count?”

 
“It is Angelica’s brother, and
 
. . .”

 
“Ah, I see. A most unsuitable choice.” came
forth as unaccountable dismissal of Angelica’s brother.

 
Stunned and confused she could not muster
words, words to extract explanation of her mother’s disregard for Francois. “I
hardly know him,” her defence. “I’ve met him once only. No, twice to be exact,
but we did not speak on that occasion. He spends most of his time on court
business, which takes him away from the hub of court functions.”

 
“Just as well you hardly know him,” her
mother’s curt response. “Good, I see them, now.”

 
To some extent sense of relief at Leohne and
Richard’s reappearance swept over her, for her mother would not press further
on Francois and the way in which they had met, nor the time and place of their
meeting. How glad she was to have refrained from telling her brother or sister
all
that had happened on her last venture to France. Perhaps there were things best
kept secret, after all.

~

“You say highwayman are
about in this beautiful forest?”

 
“Not highwaymen as
we
think of,”
replied Richard, momentarily distracted from intense scrutiny of the
surrounding woodland. “The fellows hereabouts indeed use horses for fast
getaways, but they’re crafty devils and apt to play dead or wounded, and have
been known to get a woman to hail aid from a passing coche.

 
“Versailles is close at hand, surely, and I
had thought we’d left such vagabonds behind in England.”

 
A tentative if reassuring smile swept to his
face, his eyes once again to the window of the coche as it swayed and bucked:
its wheels rolling fast over rough terrain. “I fear we have entered France in
troubled times, and I should not have entertained notion and delight your
company would afford on the journey.”

 
“But I would have come regardless of
your
company.” He looked at her then, expression unreadable, and she wished she
could retract her thoughtless utterance. “I did not mean I am unhappy in your
company.” The coche lurched to the left, its wheels fallen to a deep rut.
Thankful for a steadying strap secured to the door strut and already clutched
tight in hand, she saved herself from the indignity of sliding too far to the
left and falling against Richard’s boot. “I meant I had intended to come to
Versailles even if you had not.”

 
“Sorry, I did insist the coachman keep the
horses at a goodly pace through the forest.” He chuckled, his booted foot
conveniently wedged against her seat, itself keeping his rump relatively secure
on his side. “The chances of a highwayman’s moll stepping into the path of
four-in-hand, and this lumbering coche at full speed on mudded ground is most
unlikely.”

 
She could see element of sense in his
decision, foolhardiness too. For with iced rain pouring down it was perhaps a
tad risqué, and the unsteadiness of coche lurched to left was proving a most
uncomfortable and frightening ride. “How much longer do you think, before we
shall reach the palace?”

 
“I had hoped before nightfall.” He glanced
upward. “Light’s fading to nightfall faster within the forest than perhaps
without. Damn this weather,” he said, as the coche again levelled and bucked
and rolled as before. “I fear that severe jolt has done for our gallant
steeds.”

 
Indeed, the pace did appear to have slowed
somewhat, and she felt compelled to make amends for her rash outburst
beforehand. “Richard, you do know that I cannot thank you enough for sharing
this journey with me. Should I have found myself alone in similar circumstance
I would be terribly afraid by now.”

 
“I did not for one minute presume a word
said was meant in earnest, for I know your independent spirit oft leads your
tongue and your thoughts left treading behind.”

 
She felt suitably humbled. “You are
such
a
dear friend, and all too willing to forgive my every misdemeanour.”

 
The coche suddenly slewed to the right, as
though in avoidance of something or someone on the roadside. It then began to
slow until finally the wheels ground to a standstill. Richard opened the door,
and about to call out to the coachman he held his tongue, for a pistol came
level with his face. They both looked up to the masked face of a man on
horseback, and a brief moment of agonised silence hung in the air.

 
“As you can see, I have the advantage,”
broke the silence, the rider’s French tongue proffered with cool aplomb. “You
will stay where you are and give forth possessions of value.”

 
About to reply in her mother’s native tongue
and declare herself devoid of valuables of any merit, and assured her jewels
were secretly hidden within her luggage, Richard lied in polite English, “We
are English and of modest means. We have little of value between us, with
exception of silver snuffbox and gold fob watch.”

 
The highwayman, for he was without doubt a
vagabond of the highways, either understood fully the English tongue or had
guessed Richard’s declaration, for he pressed to see Richard’s offerings by
waving the pistol in a manner most impatient. Afraid of the rider’s commanding
position and in realisation Richard did not want her to utter a word, she felt
him to be sacrificing his valuables to save hers. But would this villain be
satisfied with what her companion had to offer?

 
Once the valuables were handed over, the
rider barely glanced at the snuffbox or fob watch and secreted them within his
gauntlet. He glanced at her then, and leaned forward and indicated for Richard
to move to the far side of the coche. Richard did as bid, and the highwayman’s
interest fell solely upon her. His scrutiny disturbed her, his dark eyes as
though boring into her very soul.

 
“Remove your gloves and show me your hands,
young miss,” he said, in perfect English with refined French lilt.”

 
He obviously suspected rings on her fingers.
Well, he was soon to be disappointed. She removed her gloves in haste, and
displayed ring-less fingers and not a jewelled bracelet did she have upon her
person. She sensed no disappointment, and the highwayman chuckled as though it
was all a game.

 
“Give me your hand,” he said, holding his
right hand forth, his pistol held in left hand, and reins loose about his
horse’ withers.

 
Why request her hand when she had no
jewelled rings to wrench from her fingers? Though once her hand was cupped in
his gauntlet-clad hand he leaned forward and placed a kiss upon her fingers,
his eyes so close and intense in scrutiny her heart stopped. How could that
happen? How could a man such as he cause frisson of indefinable connection, as
though two parts of a whole had come together? She snatched her hand away,
unsettled and unsure as to what had occurred between them: shamed by thoughts
that sped to mind. Yet it was as though she knew him, for something about his
voice and eyes were quite familiar.

 
“Do not proceed to Versailles,” he said, his
attention once again directed to Richard. “If you value your life and that of
your lady, you will order this coche turned around and make your way back to
England with due haste. Much trouble lies ahead.”

 
“You rob us, then attempt to express concern
for our welfare,” said Richard. “What reason pray, is there to suggest trouble
ahead?”

 
“Ignore my warning at your peril.
Revolutionary militia are patrolling Versailles, and the king and queen have
been taken to Paris.”

 
“What nonsense is this?”

 
“Believe me, few courtiers have escaped
arrest save two women hiding at the royal hunting lodge.” He reined his horse
back a little. “I speak only the truth. The hunting lodge lies to your left,
down a forest track. Perchance you are gallant enough to rescue the ladies. Au
revoir,” his parting words, as man and horse faded into the shadows of the
trees and vanished.

 
“Thank God,” exclaimed Richard. “Phew, we
got off light, if I say so myself.”

 
“But you lost your fob watch and snuffbox.”

 
“Fair exchange for our lives and we again
able to continue on our journey.”

 
She dare not tell Richard, but if her
instincts were correct the highwayman was none other than the Count of Saint
Mont Marche. Yes, he
had
robbed Richard, but perhaps with good reason.
But if it was Angelica at the hunting lodge, why had Francois abandoned her?
She had to know.

 
“He said two women are hiding at a hunting
lodge. Does it not make sense to go there, and find out for ourselves if his
story about the king and queen is true?”

 
“It is almost dark, Diamonta, and to go
wandering along forest tracks is madness indeed.”

 
“We cannot in all heart proceed to
Versailles. We must heed the vagabond’s warning, or we might, as he proclaimed,
find ourselves in grave danger.”

 
Richard sighed. “You are right.” He pushed
the door and stepped down from the coche, and sudden glow of light upon his
face suggested the coachman had just set about lighting the lamps. She listened
to his instructions directed to the coachman, and the other man’s reply. He too
seemed in agreement it was best to go to the hunting lodge. She thought it
brave of him to suggest if ladies needed help he was quite willing to aid in
their rescue. He informed Richard he despised the queen’s extravagances but did
not wish either king or queen sent to the guillotine in like manner to
aristocrats already arrested and heads severed. Her heart dived.

 
Aristocrats guillotined? Was it Angelica at
the hunting lodge?

 
Richard returned to his seat whilst the
coachman urged the horses to take the turn onto the forest track, his voice
then tinged with vexation and concern. “Damn weather. I’m soaked and frozen to
the bone.”

 
“Have the revolutionaries taken leave of
their senses? The guillotine? They wish royal heads to the basket?” She drew
breath, heart palpitating in fear and disgust. The coche wheels were less noisy
and the sway more gentle. “My God, we must return to England directly.”

 
“Indeed we must,” he said, voice lowered.
“Had I known of this before we departed, I would never have sanctioned your
coming here. My source of intelligence to affairs of the French state was
sorely misinformed.”

 
“Source of intelligence? You sound just like
a spy.” Silence hung heavy for a moment or two. “
Richard
?”

 
“Sssh, be careful what you say,” came at her
in a whisper.

 
Silence befell them, and the coche rumbled
onward very slow and she wondered how it was possible for the coachman and
horses to see where they were headed, for darkness had descended in earnest.
Both she and Richard glanced from side to side not a light to be seen and when
the coche slowed to a crawl and finally rolled to standstill, it did seem as
though a shadowed structure stood to their right. Mere seconds passed and a
faint glimmer of light implied it was inhabited.

 
Richard spied it, too. “You’re to stay
here,’ he said, in commanding tone.

 
He alighted with caution and soon vanished
into the darkness. The wait for news proved stressful in extreme. Rather
worried for Richard’s safety and her own, finally the sight of shrouded
lanterns edging toward the coche caused momentary fear until, a female voice
and quite distinctive French lilt was heard in conversation with Richard.

 
To her delight, Angelica appeared before the
open door of the coche. “Diamonta, it is I, Angelica”

 
Her heart soared, for she now knew the
highwayman’s identity, for here was his sister in hooded cape. “I am so pleased
to see you. To know you are safe. But what has happened?

 
“Terrible, terrible things have happened,
and although I am most grateful you have come tonight I cannot ask that you
take us with you. It would be too dangerous for you to be seen with us. You are
as good as English, Diamonta, and your friend is English. You may well be able
to leave France in safety, but you will need papers to grant you safe passage.
To get papers you must return the way you came and if you are stopped, and it
is a surety you will be upon entering the town you must ask to speak with the
mayor who is also a magistrate. He is a fair man and will do his best to see
you both safe on your way.”

 
“But we cannot go and leave you here.”

 
“No, we cannot,” said Richard, most stern.
“You must come with us now, and no delay.”

 
“You have to go, have to go without us.
Believe it. Anna Marie and I are resigned to our fate, and we will be
discovered, we know that. It did seem fortunate when we escaped from Versailles
with Francois’ help, but there is no coche here and we have no horses save
Francois’ faithful beast. If you help us now and we are all caught you will no
doubt suffer the guillotine as we shall suffer it. The King has been taken for
trial, and it is feared the Queen will be called upon next to defend herself
against terrible accusations.”

 
“Less of this nonsense, there are ways and
means of getting you out of here alive and in one piece,” said Richard. “Strip
off your fine clothes, get rid of your wigs, and dress as modest as you can.
One of you will have to ride atop with our coachman, and both disguised as
servants.”

 
Angelica looked aghast. “Modest in dress?
Servants?” She thrust her head up in haughty manner. “I will go to the
guillotine in my best gown.”

 
“I’ll be damned if I’ll let you go to the
guillotine,” said Richard, in bombastic tone. “Now do as I say, and damn sharp
about it.”

 
“Please Angelica, do as he says. The sooner
the better.”

 
Angelica glanced toward the coachman, now
standing by the front of the team. “Is he French or English?”

 
“Belgian French, and a good and honest
fellow,” replied Richard, rain trickling down his face. “He has no desire for
royal heads to basket nor will he harm a hair on your lovely head. Now can we,
young lady, get you and your friend sorted and on our way as soon as possible?”

 
Diamonta leaned forward determined Angelica
would abide by Richard’s request, and made to ease herself from the coche. “I
will come with you, for many hands make light work.”