A/N: We have had several pm's and messages about how slow we are updating this. And while we are glad you guys like it as much as you hopefully do, we are trying to write this while we worry about other stuff too, like school and full time jobs that pay a lot more than fan fiction. So, please understand that we are working on it, and we wish we could do nothing but write this everyday but there are other things to worry about.
We are also not historians, so please excuse our mistakes. We do what we can for research so that it won't be glaringly obvious, but I am sure we still miss things.
We want to thank our little beta-fairy and Emmett's bethrothed, Chewie. She was integral to the Edward half of this chapter and so I have given her Emmett. We haven't met Emmett yet in this story, but here's just a hint. He likes to bang things with his big, hot hammer. Can you guess?
Oh, and we don't own Highwaymen, Twilight, Volvo's or Edward. But we would like to. Really.
Bella
I was finally stealing some time before the Cullen funeral to visit my friend Alice, having been diverted from her by a sudden downpour on my previous try. I had not been to see her in some time and wanted to make sure she was well.
I left my father to dress and promised to return by the time Jacob arrived to accompany us to the church. The inn was closed for the morning hours so that we could attend the service. Most of the townspeople would be in attendance to pay their respect to the family like ourselves.
But I knew Alice would not be going. Alice would not be welcome in the confines of the church because of the prejudices of the locals – the absurdity of the locals. They called her evil, a witch, a heretic and it is all just silly. She is a healer, a loving caring person, and a friend, nothing resembling the accusations that have plagued her.
I had met Alice about a year ago when Jacob and I were walking along the road, enjoying a rare dry fall afternoon when we came upon a group of men surrounding a small woman. Jake tried to maneuver us away so as to not get involved and put me in danger. But I was not willing to leave without knowing she was safe. I led Jacob over so that we could hear the exchange taking place.
The ruffians were towering over her tiny frame, throwing insults and repulsive suggestions toward her. She was frozen but had a resolved look in here eyes, as if working so that the fear would not show in her face. I looked to Jacob, pleading for him to step in.
Only when I moved to inject myself into the situation, standing between the biggest of the men and the woman did Jake act. Jacob, tall and broad, had no problem sending the gentlemen on their way.
Alice immediately crumbled and I held her as she sobbed and from that day forward we have been the best of friends.
At first she told me that I did not want to be her friend because of the things the townspeople thought of her and Jacob quite agreed but I let them both know that I did not care what the others thought. I, of course, had heard talk of a wicked woman who told futures and used magic to heal, and I guessed that when I did not recognize her that she was the one they gossiped about. But it wasn't difficult to see after a few minutes with Alice that she had a good heart and that was all that mattered.
I tried to visit her often, enjoying the company as much as checking in on her. Despite the public feelings of the village, Alice kept quite busy though none would admit a visit with her. She confided in me that it did not matter as long as she was able to help those who were willing to accept her services.
When I was close to her house I heard a muffled scream coming from the dense trees that lined the area. It was a woman's scream and I was afraid someone was in trouble – afraid that Alice was in trouble. I passed the front of her house to walk into the woods cautiously, trying not to stumble and alert anyone to my presence before I could figure out how to help.
I heard the noise again mixed with a low grunt that sounded almost animal like in nature.
Walking towards the noise, I used the dense cover of the trees so as to not be seen. I knew I was getting close because the noises were getting louder.
After a very short time I found myself staring into a small clearing. As my eyes darted around knowing I had arrived in the general area the sounds were coming, I saw movement. And I saw people, two of them. I strained to see who it was.
As I started to make out their forms, I froze not knowing exactly what I was seeing.
Unsure of what exactly was happening.
He wasn't attacking her, was he? Or was this something else?
Another scream and a soft moan that could only be described as pleasurable told me that she was not in danger.
I stepped behind the large tree I was near. They had not noticed my intrusion.
I should have turned around and given them their privacy. I should have gone home and came back to see her after the funeral. I should have stopped watching. But I could not move.
I was barely able to make out petite Alice pinned against a tree by a tall, blond haired man. But I could see her, her skirts pulled up and her legs wrapped around his waist. The man's trousers were pulled down on his thighs, her heels dug into his backside.
I watched, entranced, as he trailed his mouth down her neck, looking like he was trying to devour her. She was making it easy for him by throwing her head back and the noises she was making seemed to encourage his vigor.
I blinked rapidly, trying to calm myself, trying to talk myself into slipping away as was proper, but nothing was working. My body would not turn, my legs would not move.
As I watched I suddenly noticed my heart was beating rapidly and my breathing was in rhythm with the entwined couple's movement. I could see that he was pressed between her bare legs, pushing into her with his hips, his muscular legs and cheeks clenching with every push. With every hard thrust forward Alice would whimper and respond with a hard push back against him.
Embarrassed by what I was doing; I watched my friend in a very intimate act, one that was not meant to be seen by prying eyes. I still willed myself to move, to leave. When I did not, I tried to reason that I was afraid of being caught but knew that it was more than that.
Watching her grip his hair between her fingers, pulling his mouth down to her breasts, his lips brushing against the rough linen, before he pulled it down, baring her to the cool air, caused me to gasp quietly, covering my mouth to mask the sound. My hand slid down my throat to the swells under my own bodice, fluttering there for a moment as I felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through my body. I understood what differences there were between men and women, I had learned of these types of relations. I heard talk of acts from some of the brash patrons of the inn, but I had never really understood, still did not really understand.
I would not ever ask my father about something like this; it was not a subject that a daughter and father would speak of – ever. I had not known my mother and no matter how close I was with Esme or Alice, it was not something that was spoken of in polite company.
And it was also not something that should be spied upon, but here I was. I felt my face heat up as I thought more and more about it and finally I was at least able to throw myself back behind the tree, taking my eyes off of them; hiding myself from them; trying not to think of what they were doing and how my body and mind were reacting to the scene.
No.
Not at all proper. I needed to go. Now.
Convincing myself that I was only making sure my retreat would go unnoticed – I peaked around my barricade for one more look. The man's hands were kneading her breasts now, his mouth attached to the pale skin at her shoulder, his teeth scoring her as he pressed his manhood into her in fast, hard strokes while her legs held tight around him. The cries were becoming louder and forceful now.
I had to leave.
Slowly I began to tiptoe away, not allowing myself to glance back at the couple.
What was wrong with me that I would be tempted to do so?
Because of the argument I was having with myself about my sudden indecency I did not notice the large tree root that hindered my path. When my foot caught and I began to fall to the ground an involuntary cry escaped from me. Slapping my hand to my mouth as quickly as I could to muffle the sound, I stilled completely and listened, hoping my presents was still unknown.
I immediately realized that the couple's sounds were quieted, except for urgent whispers. They knew someone was out here.
In a show of uncharacteristic grace I made it to my feet and quickly to the road in front of Alice's home. I stopped momentarily to brush myself off from my fall in the woods. I knew small wisps of my hair had escaped the twist and I hoped my cap would conceal the mess.
Just as I finished composing myself, Alice appeared from the side of the house. She looked flushed and her eyes were wide. I feared that she knew I had been spying. I tried to smile at her, to show no unease. I hoped she would not suspect if I acted naturally.
I hoped I could act naturally.
"Bella?" Alice approached me as if she were afraid I would try to run. I wanted to.
Did she know?
"Hello Alice, I was just coming for a visit. Is this a bad time?" My voice was much more composed than I felt.
"Oh," her expression was unreadable as she seemed to be studying my face. I worked to stay impassive, not let the fear or being found out show. If she knew that I had seen…them it would be embarrassing for us both. "I was just out for a…uh, walk," she visibly relaxed once she was close enough to pull me into a hug.
"Are you sure you just arrived? I did not keep you?" she suspected something. "Is that dirt on your dress Bella? Let me help you dust off."
I sighed, "I just fell, is all. You know me," and she did, an explanation of where and how I fell was not necessary; I often tripped on nothing but air.
After the loose dirt was removed from my dress, she invited me in without any further questioning. I explained that I was attending Cullen funeral shortly.
She scoffed, "always so proper, your family. Do you think the Cullen's bothered to mourn for your loss all those years ago? Or any other commoners' losses?"
"Alice, not only is it proper, but we also go for Esme. Esme is my friend, as are you, and you know that I would do anything for either of you, proper or not. This is her family. She needs us and we are going to be there for her," I knew that Alice meant no offense by her ridicule.
"Speaking of Esme, I better get back so that she does not have to be alone long. After my...fall, I was sidetracked and took longer than planned. But I will try to come more often so we can catch up. I do hope you are well. Are you in need of anything? I brought some bread I made for you." I stood to leave, taking the bread out of my basket.
"Oh, Charlie has been getting his aches again; I was hoping you had some of that herb you gave him last time. What was it?"
She smiled at me apologetically, "Let me get that for you, the feverfew. You remember how to prepare it for him, the tea?" I nodded as she gathered some of the herb from her cabinet. "Now give my sympathy to Esme. My heart grieves for her loss, if not for the Cullen's. And I am fine Bella, I am well cared worry too much; though I am always glad to see you."
I hugged her close, before stepping outside to head home; wondering if the man I had seen was the one caring for her.
--
We arrived at the funeral, and as expected, the crowd was large. I looked around for Esme, I had promised to be with her through it. Enlisting Jake and my father to look as well I began to wonder, looking into the area reserved for the house staff in case she waited for me there.
Having no luck I stood and looked around, spotting the mourning family. The Viscount was seated in the pew, pale and sickly looking, his eyes downcast. The countess, while she attempted to look doleful, wore an extravagant headpiece and a dress that would only bring attention in her direction, looking nothing like a mother who was mourning a lost son. I knew she was treating this as a social event; Esme had been distressed at her disrespectful actions during the preparations of the funeral.
My eyes then fell to my stranger, the Viscount's son. Edward. I watched him for a moment, entranced, hoping to see his eyes once more. As I watched, he seemed to be looking around at the church, observing the mourners as if looking for someone.
As I gazed at him and his beautiful profile as he scanned the room, thoughts of what I had seen in the forest flooded my mind. I began to wonder what it would be like – what it would be like with him. My legs wrapped around his waist, his hands – his mouth – on my skin, the heat of our bodies as they moved against each other.
I jumped when I felt a hand on my back and looked up, slightly breathless to see Jacob standing next to me. "Bella? Are you feeling well? You seem out of breath and you are flushed."
I felt bad because Jake looked concerned about me when I was only daydreaming of indecent things. I tried to shake of the thoughts and smile, "Jake, I am fine, I was looking for Esme," I could not say anything more, I did not want to lie.
"Oh, we found her, your father is comforting her while she waits for you. Are you sure? You look so pale?"
I only nodded and he led me over to my father and my best friend. One glance at Esme's grief stricken face, my heart broke and guilt overtook me. I had been fantasizing about a man, one that Esme thought of as her son, while she was grieving for the loss of another of her own. It was reprehensible and selfish.
I rushed to her, taking my father's place by her side. Tears filled my eyes as she sobbed in my arms. I whispered to her things that I knew would be no real comfort but I hoped that they might soothe her minutely.
I spent the remainder of the service, not listening, but holding Esme, letting her know I was there for her. When it was time to make the trek to the cemetery for the final burial Jake held her up as I walked close by with my father.
"Bella, will Esme be all right? Do you think we should take her home now, let her rest?" My father was very fond of Esme and he seemed very worried. I tried to calm him and told him that I believe that Esme would need to be at the grave, it would be expected. He agreed but insisted that he thought she should come home with us afterwards.
Esme quieted some as we waited but when the coffin was being lowered into the ground she suddenly tensed and then went limp at my side. Being close to the same size as me I began to falter under her weight but was relieved when Jacob and my father were at our sides taking hold of her.
She began to come to and I was trying to get her to look at me so that I would know if she was able to stand again. She was pale and looked ill so I asked them not to release her until she looked as if she could support herself or until we returned home.
"Esme, dear," my father leaned into her, supporting her weight easily with Jake's help, brushing his free hand across her flushed cheek.
I did not hear what else was said because Jake inclined his head towards me and ask if I was well.
"I am fine, Jacob, just worried about Esme," I assured him. Not entirely convinced, he insisted that I stay close by.
We stayed behind after the funeral was over, not wanting to drag Esme through the crowd of people in her state. My father had convinced her that no amount of trouble she would incur would be worth going back to the family house to work and she would come to the inn until she felt better.
As we made our way out, father and Jake still walking with Esme, me trailing close behind them, I found myself looking through the crowd. I knew I was being silly but I wanted to catch one more look at him. Just to see if I could see his eyes one more time, to see if they still held the intense pain I had seen before. I did not know why, but I hoped that he was healing.
I found him, walking towards his carriage, his arm linked with a tall statuesque woman. I wondered if this was the woman who he would marry, and briefly I felt a twinge of pain in my chest, but quickly pushed it away when I realized that if she were then she would be able to heal him and that is what I cared about. He was in pain and I hated seeing someone in pain, even those in higher stations than I. I scolded myself for the sadness that I still felt and followed my family as we made our way home.
Edward
The morning of Anthony's funeral dawned overcast and cold. I moved slowly to dress for the day, but was interrupted by someone at the door. The person knocked and I called for them to enter. The door opened, and Esme came in bearing a tray laden with food.
"Esme, you didn't have to bring my breakfast up to me. I could have come down and eaten in the dining room." I moved to her side, trying to take the heavy tray from her arms.
"They've already eaten, Edward, and your stepmother wanted the room cleaned and ready for guests coming today."
Her tone was sharp and I could tell she was strained. She put up with constant degradation from Victoria, more than I am sure I could imagine.
After setting the tray on my desk, she began arranging the plates for me to eat.
"Will we be leaving soon for the church?" I sat down in the chair and began eating.
"Your father is in his study. I am sure the others are dressing for the ceremony."
She turned away quickly and I heard her breath catch. I stood and went to her, my hand on her arm. She rubbed my hand, wiping away her tears.
"Will you be sitting with the house servants?" I asked quietly, not wanting her to be alone today.
Smiling through her tears, she said, "No. I will be sitting with a friend. I think I need a little space today."
Nodding, I replied. "Just know if it were up to me you would sit with the family. You know Anthony would have wanted it that way as well."
Her face fell at my words, and she sobbed again. I had hoped that telling her that would make her feel somewhat comforted, not even more bereft.
"Sweet boy. I had better get back downstairs to oversee the preparations for today." Her slow footsteps echoed in my head as she left the room. Today was going to be difficult for all of us.
--
After finishing my breakfast and dressing, I went down to see if there was anything my father needed. Esme had said he was in his study, and I found him there, huddled over his large mahogany desk. The room was dark; the sparse light filtering through the draperies, motes of dust caught floating in the air. He didn't move when I entered, and when I stepped up behind him, placing my hand on his shoulder. He sighed in frustration before turning toward me.
"Edward." He nodded as if answering some question in his head. "Did you need something, Son?"
"No. I just wanted to see how you were this morning and find out if there was anything you needed my help with."
He coughed, a deep rumble rippling through his chest and held a hand over his mouth.
"Esme is right. You are a good man." This was said in a low whisper, under his breath. "Thank you for asking. But I am just going over some of Anthony's papers. He seems to have left behind quite a mess and with the exorbitant cost of this funeral that Victoria has planned, I am a little bewildered. A trip to London will have to be organized soon so that I can settle some of these debts but this can all wait for another day." He shook his head, looking blankly across the room. "I needed a little time to myself, away from our guests before we leave for the church."
It was unspoken, but I knew he needed time away from Victoria. She was particularly audacious with an audience and her sister's family provided her with the perfect opportunity. I wondered at his comment about Esme, the inherent closeness that was implied. Had I missed something while I was gone? It was probably just the situation, with Anthony passing. That was all, I was sure.
Sitting on the edge of his desk, I faced my father.
"I can go to London and take care of any business that needs to be dealt with. There are things at the house that I need to retrieve if I am to be staying and with the weather as unpredictable as it is, I don't think you should be traveling."
He shook his head, preparing to object, but I cut him off.
"Let me do this. You are not well enough and the strain has not been helping."
His head was down, nodding, before he looked up at me.
"Thank you, Edward. I am glad you are my son." I tried to control my gasp of shock. My father was never one to make heartfelt statements to anyone.
He moved to stand, but weak as he was, he stumbled a little. I put my arm under his, helping him to his feet. It was easier to focus on my actions than it was to feel the guilt and pain just boiling under the surface. Guilt for being the surviving son and pain of loss, my brother and what I felt sure would soon be my father(rework). I helped him across the room and up the stairs to his room where he could finish preparing for today, all the while pushing down those feelings. Usually, I was not an emotional man, but today I felt like the world was getting a little darker and my future more bleak.
The hours rushed passed, and then I was sitting in the front row of the church, my father at my side and Victoria and her family seated in our pew. Victoria was playing the role of grieving step-mother to her best; the manufactured sorrow painted across her face was as garish as the feathered creation in her hair. I told her that it looked like a crow had built a nest up there.
Katherine was throwing sidelong glances at me, her lips pouting unnaturally when I wouldn't play. It was my brother's funeral after all. Couldn't she understand that for once I wasn't thinking about tumbling her in the barn? In fact I had been avoiding her all morning knowing she would try to engage me in one of her fantasies. I would not be a stand in highwayman for her.
I surreptitiously looked around the church for Esme. She hadn't sat with the house servants, and the church was so full with mourners that I was having trouble finding her. Of all the people here, she was the only one I was worried about right now. My father had Victoria, for whatever good she did, but Esme had to mourn alone.
I spotted her half way back at the side of the nave. Her body sagged into someone whose arms were wrapped around her as they smoothed her dress down her back. It was the girl. As she leaned down to whisper in soothingly Esme's ear, her pale skin and the soft swell of her breasts was revealed. I felt a swirl of anticipation, wanting to see more, but when she sat up and I could see the tears streaming down her face, I froze.
The sorrow in her eyes clarified my own pain. I felt a sting in my eyes, the tears fighting to surface and I spun around, vowing not to look at her again. If I were to make it through today I was not going to be able to see that much emotion on someone's face. I was reassured, because most of the mourners were there simply out of respect, not true care or love. And some had been paid, as was tradition, to fill out the crowd.
Words of praise and exultation about Anthony poured forth from the vicar and his description of Anthony was that of one who was a pious young man, one concerned with the spiritual lives of others. It was so misguided that I felt as if he were speaking of someone else. By calling out his alleged traits it seemed a crass and low incrimination of him in an unintended way. If I stayed detached, time would pass quickly and this would be over, a memory I would struggle to forget.
We stood at the end of the service, filing out of the church and over to the cemetery. My family had a separate plot there that was fenced off from the rest of the graves, and we buried Anthony next to my mother's resting place. Her gravestone was simple, not as extravagant as the others. I rarely visited, and it occurred to me that I should have. It seemed disrespectful to me now, but I had never known her. And I certainly wasn't encouraged by my father or stepmother to visit. Esme had tried to suggest it, but had never pushed either of us to go. She knew it was something we had to come to on our own.
The crowd was gathered behind us, as Anthony's coffin was put in the ground. I heard Victoria whispering angrily with her sister and turned to peer in the direction they were looking. It was Esme, being held up by a tall young man and the innkeeper. She had fainted and it seemed she was coming around, but her skin was still pale. The girl was fluttering around, obviously distraught over her condition. I wondered at who the young man was. Her suitor perhaps, certainly a close friend considering their close proximity and the way they worked together to care for Esme.
Victoria's anger didn't bode well for Esme, and while I found no fault with her behavior, I knew that there would be some punishment by Victoria. She was probably angry that someone was putting on a better show of grief than her, despite the fact that Esme was not acting.
When the burial was over we began walking back to our carriage. The crowd dispersed, most back to their normal daily lives, with an honored few to join us at our home. Refreshments would be served and people would gather to talk about what a sorrow it was to have the eldest son die such a tragic death. My head was pounding with the thought of hours to go with strangers throwing around false sorrow for my brother. All I wanted to do was escape to my room and read, or go riding, away from everyone. I was to be disappointed.
Victoria came sweeping up, a statuesque looking blonde girl on her arm.
"Edward, I have someone I want you to meet." She simpered at the girl, who just smiled at me.
I nodded politely, reaching out my hand towards hers, grasping it gently.
Victoria spoke up, making the introductions, "Edward, this is Miss Rosalie Hale. And Rosalie, this is Edward Cullen, the Viscount's only son."
I coughed, to cover up the shock I felt. That she would refer to me as such on the day my brother is interred was low, even for her.
Recovering quickly, I inhaled before speaking. "It's nice to meet you Miss Hale. And how do you know my stepmother?" I ground the last word out through my teeth, preferring to not refer to her as my mother in any capacity.
"My father is an acquaintance of hers and your father. He has been to the hunts your father and stepmother hold on several occasions."
Her manners were perfect and she was certainly beautiful, but a little cold. With her pale blonde hair and her ice blue eyes she just seemed like some kind of piece of porcelain.
I sighed, knowing what Victoria was trying to do. And while I understood it and the reasons why I must marry, resentment flared in my heart. This woman had never shown any care for me and was now trying to act as a mother, even though it was a role she made clear she never wanted.
I offered her my arm as the crowd moved towards the carriages and barouches waiting to take us back to the manor, walking to slowly to postpone the uncomfortable prodding I would receive from my stepmother once I reached our carriage.
We talked about things like the weather, hunting, and horses. She turned out to have quite an interest in horses, and was refreshingly knowledgeable about them. I found myself enjoying her company, her candor. We managed to spend most of the evening talking as the crowd reassembled at my home, avoiding the groups of mourners trying to approach me to offer sympathy. When it was time for her family to leave, I bid her farewell warmly.
Sighing with relief that the gathering was coming to a close, I spotted Victoria with her sister and Katherine. Both of the women were looking glum, but Victoria was smug. My entertaining Miss Hale was probably being construed in some marital context. Trying to fight that assumption was worthless, so I merely planned to ignore her weak attempt to pair me off. I wanted a wife that would be warm; her body's curves a testament to femininity. Miss Hale's sharp, angular body left me as cold as her face. The only fire between us was about horses couldn't sustain passion forever.
Memories of that luscious mahogany hair, those pillowy lips, left me burning. And her care for Esme caused my lungs to tighten. I would have to ask Esme about her when I found her. Not that it mattered. The girl was beneath me and I ought to put her out of my mind. I was leaving for London in the morning, to take care of the business that my father had mentioned to me. It would take me several days to work out all the negotiations and I was sure that when I came back, I would have forgotten all about the serving girl, no matter how tempting she is.
--
Alone in the carriage, I sighed wearily. The dealings in the city had taken much longer and were more troublesome than I had originally thought. Eager to get home, I took a carriage through the night. My father hadn't revealed to me the enormity of my brother's debt, and it was staggering. His accounts were spread throughout the city, amongst all different types of vendors and money lenders. It seemed his gambling was much more than a small habit; he had lost more money in the last year than our father had ever lost.
Rubbing my temples, I blew out softly, my head beginning to pound. It was then I heard the hoof beats. A horse raced up alongside the carriage carrying a man dressed in all black. The moon lit up his face, which was covered with a mask. The coach slowed, grinding to halt in the middle of the road.
The Highwayman.
He had a shock of blond hair peeking out from under the brim of his tricorn hat. But my perusal was cut short when he shoved a pistol in my face. He demanded my gold, jewels, any coins I might have.
He picked the wrong carriage tonight. I laughed silently, amazed at my luck. The past few days were spent either paying off debts or arranging for payments to made in the future. There was no money to spare. Now, here I was with a thief literally at my door wanting more.
"Ah, I see I have picked an honored quarry. A nobleman, laid low by his family's tragedy. Perhaps you'd like to cleanse your sins and guilt by making a small donation to the care of the common man." He sneered at me, pure hatred on his haughty face.
"I have nothing to spare for the common man this evening and would like to continue on to my home, if you would be so kind."
"Well, now here I thought that you were the kind, considerate son. I guess I was wrong. Not wanting to help those in need is a sin, Sir." His voice was so cold, the words clipped and terse.
"It's not that I don't want to share, it's merely that you have caught me at a low moment. I'm sure that the alms we made to the poor in honor of my brother went far in helping them this year."
His laugh was sharp. "You're sure, are you? You are dreadfully unaware of the situation for the people in your own village." He spat on the ground. "You disgust me."
"And you are some paragon of well being and purity? That's highly unlikely considering you gallivant around these roads robbing the innocent and taking the loot for yourself. A real upstanding citizen." I smirked at him.
"At least I can take care of myself without having to rely on my father," he spit again, an angry curse accompanying the sound. "I take what I need and no more, which is more than can be said of your family and their land holdings. Your tenants suffer, paying your exorbitant rents, while trying to care for their families."
His words were muddled in my head; the situation with our lessees was not one I had even been concerned with. I wondered if he was being truthful or if this was another way to taunt me. When I arrived home I was sure all of this information would be made available to me. I straightened in my seat as I thought about my new responsibility.
"I can and will take care of my family. Now if you will move on and let us continue our journey I would be most grateful and more likely to not report this meeting to the local authority."
He chuckled, the sound deep and loud this time, as if at a child. "Go ahead then. Scurry back home to your father and tell him that a man with greater morals than he decided to spare his only son's life. A man that doesn't let debts go unpaid. Tell him and watch his face. See if a flicker of recognition crosses it. Or if in his weakened state he has forgotten who and what he owes."
His horse reared back as he spurred it on, yelling behind him as he rode away, "Tell him!"
I pondered his strange and cryptic message for a moment, shaking my head in puzzlement before knocking on the roof of the carriage and hollering to the driver to continue home. As I slumped into the seat, I thought about his assertion that he had plenty of money to care for himself. How much was plenty? The debts my brother and stepmother had accrued hung over the family, and I was unsure of how to deal with them. The idea of a sudden influx of money, enough to erase our debt, was very intriguing.
I laughed loudly at myself. Perhaps Katherine wasn't too far off with her Highwayman fantasy after all.
AC: Whew...well, that one took a lot longer than we thought it would.
AN: Hopefully that made it better, and not worse. Longer is better, right?
AC: I guess. Well, there was no sexing for Edward in the barn...poor baby.
AN: It might be a little awkward to get in the habit of stable sexing though...
AC: Yeah, he could develop a Pavlovian response to the smell of hay, and that would be just weird.
AN: He can develop a Pavlovian response to me instead maybe...
AC: Wouldn't that be nice. I think we may develop a Pavlovian response to reviews though...
AN: Like good ones make us write?
AC: Yeah, something like that.