The Highwayman (Rakes and Rogues of the Restoration Book 3) (37 page)

The Three Houses Inn was coming up on his right. It looked a comfortable enough place. It was there he was arrested an hour later on the charges of robbery with violence, and the murder of Robert Hammond.

‘I have never robbed no man of tuppence

And I've never done murder nor killed.

Though guilty I've been all my lifetime

So gentlemen do as you please.’

~ Bold Nevison traditional

Arabella drifted in and out of consciousness over the next several days. She was vaguely aware she was home in her own bed, and mildly surprised she should be there. That she couldn’t remember
why
she should be surprised, was slightly disturbing, but when she thought overmuch her head hurt. Other parts of her hurt too. Her ribs, her shoulder, and her neck all ached when she tried to move, but not too much, because whenever they did the physician made her comfortable again with more laudanum.

As pleasant as that was, she was plagued by the terrifying conviction that something was dreadfully wrong. As soon as she had the strength, she caught the physician by the arm. It was hard to focus. Everything had a dreamlike quality, but she managed to speak. “What has happened to me?”

“There is no need to worry, Lady Saye.” The doctor clucked sympathetically as he tried to free his arm. “You are safe in your bed and there is nothing to trouble you now.

“But I
am
troubled,” she insisted. “I can’t seem to remember anything.”

The physician tried to tug his arm away again but she would not release it. “Sometimes, my lady, that is for the best. At least until you are better recovered. Take your medicine and rest, and let things come to you in their own good time.”

“Tell me now, sir––if you please. And let me be the judge of it.” Her voice, though raspy and strained, was insistent.

The physician was not used to being questioned, but the lady
was
a countess. If she would not trust his advice let it be on her head. “Very well, madam. You and your cousin were travelling together when you were set upon by bandits and your coach overturned. You suffered a concussion, sprains and contusions, and you have bruised your ribs. I have put you on a course of bed rest and laudanum to speed your recovery and alleviate your pain. Your cousin, I am sorry to say, was not as fortunate as you. He did not survive the accident.”

Arabella had stopped listening. As soon as he said she was travelling with her cousin and her coach had overturned it all came back. Her abduction, Robert’s plan to kill her, the fight for the pistol, and Jack. Where was Jack? What had happened to him? Was he all right?

The physician, noting her pallor, could not help but add, “I warned you madam. You are known for your fragile health. I hope this hasn’t set you back, but you did insist.”

“My health is fine, sir. Other than a bump on the head.” She sat up, ignoring a wave of dizziness, shakily motioning him to silence when he began to remonstrate with her again. She took several deep breaths to clear her head, though it pained her to breathe. “I would know the rest. I am sure it is best told all at once rather than in half measures. Tell me what you know. What happened to my cousin? And what of these bandits?”

“I am sorry, my lady. Your cousin was killed by a shot to the head. It would have been instantaneous. He would have felt no pain.”

So he hadn’t been killed by the collision? Icy fingers crept up her spine and she felt as though she might be sick. In the heat of the moment, while fighting for her life there had been no time for anything but survival. But now she was haunted by that last look, when she’d seen the frightened boy in his eyes.
The crash didn’t kill him. I did. Somewhere in the past we share a great grandmother. I killed a man and he was my own blood.

“I am sure it will be a comfort for you to know that the man who killed him has been captured and is set to face justice at Tyburn. You were in the company of a famed highwayman, my lady. It seems your assailant was none other than Swift Nick. The very man they write about and the king himself had pardoned. It seems his reputation for gentleness was much exaggerated as is usually the case with these evil men. He was also robbing to the north by another name. Gentleman Jack so they say. He has a great deal to answer for.

“Oh, dear God!” Her hand flew to her throat. If Jack had been discovered as Swift Nick there was no hope for him. No place left for him to hide. He would hang. If he
had
killed Robert and the king was much offended, he could be drawn and quartered too.

“Just so, madam. You were lucky to escape the clutches of that villain alive. Now if you please, my lady, take your medicine. You will feel much better after a good sleep.”

“No more medicine, sir. I would regain my senses. Your services are no longer required. Kindly send me my butler, Mr. Crookshanks. He will pay you what you are owed.”

Alarm at Jack’s capture jolted her from what remained of a laudanum-induced fog, and though she was somewhat unsteady, it raised her to her feet. She sent a footman to fetch her solicitor and when Mr. Butcher was nowhere to be found she sent a startled Mr. Crookshanks to the Angel Islington to find Jack’s friend, Nate Tully.

“We must help him,” she told Mr. Watly, her father’s solicitor, as soon as he arrived. My cousin Robert attacked me. Mr. Nevison, Swift Nick, was coming to my rescue.”

“He took your necklace, my lady, for all of Nottingham to see.” An avuncular looking man with a large belly and nothing left but a few grey wisps of hair on either side of his head, her solicitor spoke gently, and for a moment, she wanted her father.

“It…he…was trying to guard my reputation. I would explain this to a judge happily if it might help set him free.” She flushed as she said it, but the man’s kindly smile didn’t change.

“I understand completely, my dear. And very noble of him, too. Be thankful he succeeded. But he knew the consequences when he did so, and whether he was protecting you or not no longer really matters. He has publically broken his bond with the king. If your Swift Nick has offended anyone, it is he. My advice would be to appeal to His Majesty. Many appeal to him for mercy for their loved ones, and often enough he
does
intervene. He is also known to have a soft spot for tearful women and daring rogues.”

~

Later that day, Nate Tully offered more practical help. “When me and the missus heard, we were shocked. We’ve done some inquiries and I have to tell you, miss, the news isn’t good. He’s being held at Lincoln Jail, closely watched and bound hand and foot in irons on account of all the times he’s escaped before. They mean to make him pay for all he done as Jack and as Nick, and they swear, this time he’ll not get away. He should be allowed visitors though, provided there’s coin to pay the guards. Mary and me will be setting out to see him tomorrow, and if you’re up to the journey you are welcome to come.”

~

Arabella was a hardy traveler, and despite her injuries and weakened state, nothing was going to prevent her from seeing Jack. It was not uncommon for ladies of quality to bid farewell to the more popular highwaymen, hiding their identities behind visors and masks. Given his fame and the stories of his gallantry, there would be many come to say farewell to Swift Nick. He had asked her once to give him a kiss to take with him before he hanged, but he’d get no such thing from her. She had better comfort to give him. Underneath the anonymity of cloak and visor she carried a pistol, enough gold and jewelry to secure a key and bribe a guard to look away, and Nate to help her see it through. A horse was waiting in the nearby woods and a fishing boat was waiting down the coast to see him safely to France.

There was a throng milling outside the entrance. Fine ladies and gentleman come to gawk at the famous and the infamous, worried relatives carrying baskets of food and clothing, and laughing women in low cut dresses who joked with the guards and flaunted their wares. Arabella waited patiently in line with Nate and Mary, though she felt incased in ice and her stomach roiled. What if they were searched? What if the guard Nate recommended cried foul? They risked their lives.
And how many times has he done the same for me?

They shuffled forward, waiting their turn. With every step she took, Arabella’s fear and excitement grew.
It is my turn now, to rescue him. I will see him soon. I will make sure he knows how much I love him.

~

“You can’t visit him because he ain’t here no more,” the jailor said sourly when she finally reached him, looking her up and down with a jaundiced eye. “You can’t visit him because he’s dead.”

Arabella staggered as if she had been punched in the gut. If Mary Tully hadn’t steadied her she would have fallen to her knees. It was impossible! Just three weeks ago they were dancing and singing. Ten days ago they had argued. They had only just found one another. There was supposed to be more time. She needed more time. To fight, to apologize, to forgive, to laugh…to love. She had come to bring him comfort and give him hope as he had done for her. She had come to help him, but if he were dead, there was no comfort to give, and none to take. Shocked, devastated, she was trapped in a mire of mind-numbing pain and she couldn’t move, or speak, or leave.

“How can he be dead?” Nate burst out loudly. “He ain’t even been tried yet.”

“You should have been here last week,” the jailor said with a shrug. “A parade of folks come by to see him then. He was a rum-cove that one, be he Swift Nick
or
Gentleman Jack. But he caught the fever, yeah? Don’t matter how brave or wily you are, once that has you in its grip there ain’t no escaping. I promise you, weren’t none of us wanted to see him dead. Not yet, anyways. I stood to make a pretty penny from ladies seeking to meet him, and those who wanted a good view to watch him hang.”

“Nate!” Mrs. Tully cried. “Help me with the girl! We need to get her away from here. We need to get her home.”

Finally home, feeling too sick and weary even to cry, Arabella slid to the floor and sat by the window, her arms curled around her knees, waiting for dawn. She had learned that a broken heart was more than just a saying, it was a physical pain. It pierced your chest so mercilessly that it was agony to breathe. It held your throat in a vice so tight it hurt to speak or swallow. It burned your eyes and twisted your stomach and left you hollow and drained.

He had promised he would come whenever she had need of him. Well, she needed him now. More than she ever had before. It was hard to believe that he would never come to her again. It was hard to imagine there had ever been a time when she had wanted to live her life alone. What a fool she had been to refuse the man he was in favor of the man he might become. If she had only said yes he she would have been lying in his arms when her cousin had come, and everything might have been different. She would give anything to have him back. Lands, title, reputation…. Even her precious independence meant nothing without him.

After two sleepless nights she stumbled into bed exhausted. The effects of the laudanum lingered in her blood and she was still recovering from her injuries. She felt so lethargic that when her head hit the pillow she could hardly move. Closing her eyes, she imagined Jack was with her. She smiled in anticipation, waiting for his whisper, waiting for his weight to settle close beside her. She felt him, like a calming touch. With a tremendous effort, she turned her head. There was nothing, no one there.

She burrowed deep under her blankets and the tears finally came. Just a couple at first, rolling slowly down her cheek, but soon it was a flood. She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest, rocking back and forth, unable to stop. She cried until she had no tears left.

Arabella’s days took on a sameness after that. Get up in the morning, go for a ride and walk in the afternoon until she was exhausted. She missed Caroline’s relentless cheerfulness, but her maid had been sent straight home from Newark, in the company of Allen ‘Sparrow’ no less. The girl’s almost daily letters, filled with breathless excitement, were the only thing that made her smile these days. It seems Reverend Whitehall had taken a liking to Jack’s protégé, and had invited him to stay and help with renovations to the rectory. She felt certain that Jack would be pleased to know Allen had found comfort, guidance, and was learning a useful trade.

Her strength returned quickly. Her headaches lessened and then disappeared, and she began to think about Ireland again. Since the settlements and plantations, the rebellions and Cromwell’s savagery, life for the Irish had been particularly hard. A person needed a reason to get up every morning, and maybe her mother’s people had need of her, too. Somehow, it seemed fitting. Though most of her acquaintances thought of Ireland as a wild and savage land, she knew that to her mother it was an enchanting deeply spiritual place. She felt so lost now. Unmoored and adrift between two worlds. After knowing Jack, she could never be happy in her old one, and she had never truly belonged in his.
We were each other’s home.

It was not so very different than it had been for her parents. They were not supposed to love each other, but they found their own way. Yet when her mother died, her father got lost, too. She refused to let that happen to her. So it was Ireland, then. To complete a journey too long delayed, and perhaps to begin anew.
I will walk where my mother walked and maybe I will feel the same connection to the land that she did, and through it feel closer to her
.

~

Despite her plans and preparations to depart England, Arabella dreamt of Jack every night. Dreams were the road that took her to him now, and she looked forward to sleep and its blissful comforts more than she looked forward to rising to greet each new day.
I’m not ready to let go of him just yet.
She wasn’t the only one loath to let him go. Rumors arose immediately following his death that his ghost could be seen thundering down the North Road, riding his devil horse and silently relieving terrified travelers of their gold and jewels. It was a tale she knew he would have relished.