Alissa Baxter (7 page)

Her thoughts returned to Mrs Smith’s predicament, and suddenly her resolve hardened. Even if Ben refused to help her, she would do what she could to help the poor widow, she decided, and if that meant undertaking a robbery on her own, then that was what she would simply have to do.

Alexandra pushed herself away from the wall and began to walk up the hill to the Manor. She was rather nervous at the prospect of undertaking a highway robbery on her own, but knew that there must be some way that she could carry it out. She frowned as she considered the finer details of her plan, and decided that the best thing she could do was to take a suitable saddle from the stables, and carry it with her to a secluded copse she knew of that was situated a little distance from the road when she went riding this morning. There she could change into her disguise and replace her side-saddle with the ordinary saddle, before riding closer to the road and remaining hidden there until a likely victim came along. After the robbery, she would return to the copse, change back into her riding habit, exchange saddles, and ride home again, with no one the wiser. The plan was a trifle risky, Alexandra admitted to herself, but if she was very careful, she thought there was a reasonable chance of its being successful.

The only thing that concerned her about undertaking this final robbery was her conviction that Robert Chanderly had somehow guessed her secret. Rationally speaking, she knew that there was no real reason why he should have guessed anything, but she could not rid herself of the uneasy feeling that he suspected her. Perhaps it had something to do with that disturbing way he had of looking at her, she thought — as if he were intent on reading her very soul. Taking a deep breath, Alexandra decided to put him from her mind. Robert Chanderly could never conclusively prove that she was a highwayman so for her to continue worrying about him in this manner was not only fruitless, it was also ridiculous, she chastened herself.

Alexandra entered the front door of the Manor, and smiled in response to Higgins’s greeting, before hurrying upstairs to her bedchamber to wash her hands. A few minutes later she made her way down to the Breakfast Parlour and joined her brother at the table. Studying Alexandra’s rather pale face, he said, “Is anything the matter, Alex? You look a trifle out of sorts.”

Alexandra looked up from the piece of toast she was buttering, and smiled at him. “I do have a slightly dull head, John. But, I plan to ride this morning so that will hopefully clear away the cobwebs.”

John nodded. “Fresh air is always a good remedy for that. Perhaps I shall join you.”

Alexandra looked away. “Actually, I would prefer to ride alone today, John. I have a few things I’d like to think through.”

“Of course, my dear, if that is what you wish.” He studied her for a moment. “Are you still concerned about going to London?”

Alexandra sighed. “Yes. But, I doubt that there is anything I can do to change Grandmama’s mind.”

“No, she’s quite adamant.” He frowned slightly. “You must not feel, Alex, that you alone are responsible for solving all the problems in this world. You cannot help everyone, you know.”

At this moment Eliza Grantham walked into the Breakfast Parlour, so Alexandra made no response, but as she rode out of the gates of Grantham Place later that morning, John’s words played through her mind again. She knew, of course, that he was correct in what he said, but she still could not help herself from feeling responsible for the labourers who had come to rely upon her so much.

Alexandra rode cross-country, purposefully keeping away from the main roads, because she knew that if anyone were to see her right now their suspicions would undoubtedly be aroused at the strange sight she presented. She carried with her a large, cumbersome bundle that contained the saddle she had taken from the stables, her pistol, and a change of clothes. Earlier, she had concealed the bundle near the gates of Grantham Place, and had surreptitiously retrieved it just before leaving, so that no one would see her with it.

Reaching the copse without mishap, Alexandra dismounted and, with the ease of much practice, quickly changed into her male clothes. After adjusting a black mask over her eyes, she pulled a hooded cloak over her head, carefully tucking her copper curls out of sight, then set about changing the saddle on the horse, and disguising the animal’s distinctive markings. Several minutes later, her tasks successfully completed, she mounted her steed again and left the sheltered enclosure, riding towards the main road where she hid behind a small band of trees.

The minutes ticked slowly by, until Alexandra eventually heard the sound of an approaching horse, but when the horse and rider came into view, she saw that it was only a farmer riding a cob, and quickly dismissed him as a likely target. She only stole from the wealthy, and knew, besides, that the farmer would present very poor pickings. He passed on his way unharmed, and Alexandra waited impatiently for a more likely target to come along. She was beginning to wonder if anyone else would pass that way today, when finally she heard the sound of approaching horses. Taking a deep breath she rode a little closer to the road, but still remained hidden amongst the shadow of the trees, so that her quarry did not become prematurely aware of her presence. She peered out at the road and saw a gentleman, driving a curricle and four, coming round the bend. As a lone traveller she knew him to be the perfect victim, so with a loud cry she rode free from the coverage of the trees, and brandishing her pistol, called, “Your money or your life! Stand and deliver.”

She almost dropped the pistol when the gentleman turned his head and she found herself staring into the face of Robert Chanderly. Alexandra remained motionless, quite unable to believe the perverseness of fate that had led her to hold up the only person in the whole county who suspected her. The silence between them seemed to stretch to an eternity as Alexandra waited for him to do or at least say something. And then everything seemed to happen at once. There was a thunder of hooves, and within an instant, even as Alexandra was looking frantically around her, she was surrounded by three men on horseback, wearing the distinctive red waistcoats of the Bow Street Runners.

One of the Runners carried a wooden tipstaff, in the form of a short mace, on top of which was a metal receptacle. He rode closer to her and in the stern voice of the Law, said, “I carry with me here a warrant for your arrest.”

Alexandra’s gaze flew from the tipstaff the man held in his hand to the truncheons the other Runners were carrying, and she wondered wildly if by firing a shot in the air she could somehow distract them and make her escape. But before she could do anything, Robert Chanderly said quietly, “I am afraid, gentlemen, that you have made a somewhat regrettable mistake.”

Four pairs of eyes turned to look at him. Finally the man carrying the tipstaff, whom Alexandra assumed to be the most senior of the Runners, spoke, “I do not understand your meaning, sir?”

Mr Chanderly waved a hand in Alexandra’s general direction, “The person you see before you is not in fact one of the thieves you are looking for but my tiger, intent on playing a practical joke on me. That horse he is riding belongs to me. Of late he has developed a — er — unhealthy obsession with the idea of being a highwayman, having heard about the thieves at work in this district. I forbade him to try his hand at it when he expressed a wish to do so recently, but as you can see he has out-rightly disobeyed my orders.”

The Runner looked sharply from the man in the curricle to the small figure crouched on top of the horse. Finally, he said to Alexandra, “Is this true?”

Gathering her wits together, Alexandra said in a broad accent, “Aye, guv’nor. Right sorry I am to have worried you, guv’nor.”

The Runner looked at her in disgust. Shaking his head, he said, “I can see now that you are just a boy. I hope your master punishes you severely for pulling this prank and wasting the time of the Law.”

Mr Chanderly nodded briefly. “Rest assured, he will be dealt with appropriately.”

The chief Runner grunted before turning his horse around. “Wasting the time of the Law,” he muttered again, before setting his horse in motion. The other two Runners followed soon after him.

When they were out of sight, Mr Chanderly said quietly, “Get down from that horse, Miss Grantham.”

Alexandra started, causing her mount to jump skittishly. Tightening her hands on the reins, she stammered, “I — I don’t want to.”

“Very well, then,” Mr Chanderly said. He descended from his curricle, and after securing the ribbons to the overhanging branch of a tree, strode across the road to her.

Looking down at his formidably angry face, Alexandra swallowed nervously, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she had been wise enough to stay safely on her mount, out of harm’s way, but she had prayed too soon. Without warning, Mr Chanderly suddenly reached up and, in none too gentle a fashion, plucked her from the saddle and swung her down to the ground. Alexandra’s heart quickened as his arms closed around her and she tried anxiously to push him away, but her efforts were to no avail. Holding her with one arm, Mr Chanderly removed the mask from her face and stared down into her wide blue eyes.

“Little fool,” he said in a harsh voice, before lowering his head to catch her lips in a hard kiss, meant to punish. Tears stung Alexandra’s eyes at this sudden and unwelcome assault on her senses, and she struggled to free herself from his embrace. But even as she was straining away from him, Mr Chanderly gentled the kiss. When he began to run his hands soothingly over her back, Alexandra felt the fight drain out of her as sensations she had never felt before started to race through her, making her body come alive. Everything else was forgotten in the moment except the warm feeling of his lips moving over hers, and his arms holding her close.

But as abruptly as Mr Chanderly had begun the kiss, he ended it, drawing back. Alexandra blinked up at him in a dazed fashion, completely mesmerised by the fire she saw smouldering in his green eyes. After a moment, however, he pushed her away from him, and the glittering expression faded from his face, to be replaced by the mask of impassivity he usually wore.

Alexandra drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Her heart was still pounding, and a curious weakness seemed to have pervaded her limbs. She looked uncertainly at the man across from her, not knowing quite what to say. As an unmarried woman, her sensibilities ought to be outraged by the liberties he had dared to take with her, but being an innately fair person, Alexandra thought it would be a trifle ludicrous if she were to primly reprimand Mr Chanderly for his ungentlemanly conduct when she herself was attired in far from ladylike breeches, and had just attempted to hold him up.

It was Mr Chanderly who finally broke the silence. “I think we need to talk about a few things, Miss Grantham, but this is hardly the time or place for a discussion. I shall call on you this afternoon.”

“You — you do not intend telling my brother about this, do you, Mr Chanderly?” she asked, looking nervously up at him.

Mr Chanderly raised an eyebrow. “About our kiss? No, Miss Grantham, I don’t,” he said in a dry voice.

Alexandra flushed, and averted her eyes. “No — no. I mean, about my being a highwayman.”

“I think I shall wait until I have heard what you have to say for yourself, before taking any action,” he replied slowly.

Alexandra cleared her throat. “Um... My aunt will insist on chaperoning us, Mr Chanderly, so we shall not be able to have a private conversation. Could — could we not meet elsewhere?”

He frowned at her. “I do not intend putting your reputation at further risk by meeting with you clandestinely, Miss Grantham.”

“But if my aunt finds out about this...”

Mr Chanderly sighed in the manner of a man whose patience had been pushed too far. “When I arrive, I shall profess an admiration for the fine grounds of Grantham Place, and you will offer to show me the gardens. We shall talk then.”

Turning away from her, he freed the reins from the branch, and climbed back into his curricle, taking his seat. He looked across at Alexandra who had, in the meantime, mounted her steed again, and was busy arranging her feet in the stirrups, and waited until she was finally settled and had turned her attention to him again, before saying in an implacable voice, “I expect you to be at home when I call this afternoon, Miss Grantham. Don’t try and avoid me.”

Setting his horses in motion, he drove off down the road, leaving Alexandra staring after him, her mind a mass of confused, unhappy thoughts.

Mr Chanderly called at three o’ clock that afternoon, and after he had paid his respects to Mrs Grantham, and had given in to her urging to join them for tea, Alexandra led him on his requested tour of the grounds. She showed him the Rose Garden and Conservatory first, before guiding him to a quiet alcove which overlooked a pretty pond where she knew they could converse in private. An ornamental iron garden seat, set upon a pedestal to avoid the damp ground, faced the pond, and Mr Chanderly waited for Alexandra to be seated before taking his place next to her.

He studied her averted face for a moment, before saying in a quiet voice, “I await your explanation.”

She glanced at him warily, then looked away. “But, you would not understand...”

“I am waiting, Miss Grantham.”

Alexandra sighed. “Very well, then.”

She gazed out at the pleasant vista before her, but barely noticed the sloping lawns surrounding the pond, or the gardeners tending them, as she wondered how best to explain her actions to this man. Finally, taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to his again and began, “I am not sure if you are aware of it, Mr Chanderly, but many of the landowners in this district treat their labourers very badly. The Vicar’s wife, Mrs Simpson, told me a while ago of the terrible conditions in which some of their parishioners exist, and when I visited a few of the families, I was shocked to see that they are living in utter penury. I spoke to my brother about it, and he agreed to provide food baskets that I could deliver to the poor. But I soon realised that they needed more than just food to survive. They also needed blankets and clothes and other such things.” She paused for a moment, looking away from him. “My money is tied up in a trust fund until I either marry or attain my majority which means that I cannot help the peasants from my own purse. But I still wanted to do something to aid them. So — so I decided to obtain the funds they needed, but weren’t receiving, from the very people who were failing in their duties towards them — the local landowners.”