Chapter Five
"You think she was on the ship?" the schoolmaster asked.
"I'm pretty sure she was. The state of her clothes, her hair was all salty, the cut on her head was healing well like it had had some saltwater on it," Willow said.
"Describe her to me again."
"Well, she's quite small, shorter than me, petite, she has blonde hair and green eyes and she's very pretty."
"But she maintains her name is Perdita?
"That's the name we gave her. You know, from The Winter's Tale? She's hiding behind that name, she won't tell us who she really is. We thought she might when she started talking-"
"Wait, you mean she stopped talking??"
"When we found her. She didn't say a word all day. She said she was in shock - later, I mean, she said she was in shock. She made up a story about a highway robber hitting her on the head, but we didn't believe her."
The schoolteacher sighed and took off his glasses to polish them. "Sadly," he said, "there may be some truth in that."
Willow and Xander looked at each other. They'd knocked on the door of the schoolteacher's cottage - easy to find, right next to the school - in the middle of the night and the door had been opened by Miss McClay, cap over her head, gown wrapped around her, yawning.
"Oh," she said in surprise, realising who it was. "You were in the tavern..."
"We think we might know something about the shipwreck," Willow had said, and they'd been allowed in to wait with tea and cake, perfectly civilised as if it wasn't the middle of the night, while the schoolmaster was roused. He came in, hastily dressed, his hair cut short to fit under the wig he wasn't wearing.
"Rupert Giles," he said. "You know something about the shipwreck?"
The told her about Perdita and he nodded thoughtfully. "The person I am looking for was a passenger on The Redoubtable," he said. "The daughter of an old friend of mine. He died many years ago, but I've kept in touch with his widow and I am - somewhat remotely - godfather to his little girl, Miss Elizabeth. Although I suppose by now she must be a young woman. She lived with her mother on a plantation in Virginia. We corresponded often, and about a year ago Joyce wrote to me to tell me of her daughter's engagement to a young Lieutenant of the Guard."
"What's a leftenenant?" Xander whispered to Willow.
"The English way of saying lieutenant," Willow whispered back. She wondered why the schoolmaster was telling them all this.
"But a few months ago it all went rather bad," Mr. Giles went on. "Have you heard of the Slayer? A notorious highwayman in the Virginia area - terrorised the roads. Joyce wrote to me often of dreadful attacks not far from where they lived. After a while the Captain of the Guard decided to take action and lay in wait for the Slayer. His lieutenant - Riley Finn, Elizabeth's fiancé - cautioned against it, but the captain would not hear of it. There was an altercation, several men were lost, and the Slayer was seen disappearing in the direction of Joyce's house.
"The captain placed them under house arrest, accusing them of hiding the highwayman, although he could not be found in the house. The worst part was that poor Elizabeth's fiancé had been killed in the fight. She and Joyce were alone and unprotected. Eventually they managed to escape, and I received a letter saying that they had found passage on a ship to Boston, called The Redoubtable."
"And then the ship sank," Willow said.
"Yes. Joyce's body was, I am sad to say, found on the beach. There was a rope around her, as if to tie her to someone else, but the rope had broken. Wherever Elizabeth is, she was not found among the wreckage on the beach. It may be that she went down with the ship, but I do remember her being a fierce little creature, she terrified her father by swimming in the ocean. She could easily have swum to safety."
"Even in the storm?" Xander asked.
"Yes, well, of course there is that to consider. I am choosing to believe that my goddaughter has survived the wreckage," Mr. Giles said firmly. "It may be that she landed far away, further up the coast, or was rescued by another ship. Some survivors were found by a ship of the Royal Navy, somewhere off the coast of New Hampshire."
"And at least one of them made it to the farm outside of town," Xander said.
"Even if she's not your Elizabeth," Willow said, "she might know something of her. It wouldn't hurt to ask."
The schoolteacher put some outside clothes on and Miss McClay saddled up his horse and the three of them rode back up to the farmhouse. But when they got there, Perdita was gone.
"That," William said when he'd started breathing again, "was not your first time."
"No, I don't think it was."
"Who the hell are you, Perdita?"
"I don't know."
He pulled her to him and kissed her. "I don't think I care. I like you."
She smiled and curled up in the bed with him, feigning sleep, but her mind was whirling. What on earth had she just done?
No, really, what had she done? She wasn't sure if there were even words for some of the things William had pulled off.
She had given herself to a complete stranger, a highwayman, a bad, evil man, and here she was, lying peacefully with him, completely naked. He'd been right though: she knew that hadn't been her first time. She'd been with another man - maybe lots of men. Who knew? Maybe the real Perdita was a whore.
The more she thought about it, it became the only explanation. How else would she have known those things? William had said it was her calling - now she knew he was right. She was a filthy, rotten whore. She gave her body for men's pleasure.
Although she'd had a fair amount of her own pleasure this night...
Perdita made her decision and, when she was sure William was fast asleep, she crept out of bed and started picking up her scattered clothes. But it soon became apparent that she'd never be able to dress herself in all those layers. She'd needed his help before.
Dammit. Why couldn't a lady dress herself?
Her eyes alighted on the pile of clothes William had discarded. She didn't know what made her do it, but something did. She pulled on his black breeches and shirt - honestly, who had a black shirt? Who had any colour shirt but white? - his red waistcoat, black coat and boots. She looked at the leather overcoat. It was heavy, but it would be warm, and it felt good against the skin of her hands and her neck...
She pulled it on, and it did feel good. Everything was a little too big on her - the boots especially, but she put on a couple of extra pairs of stockings from the chest at the end of the bed, and it wasn't so bad. She found a tricorne hat in Xander's room and shoved her hair into the velvet bag he used to hold his ponytail. There. In the mirror, she looked like she could be a teenage boy.
Excellent.
She went downstairs, found William's black horse still saddled, standing there looking bored. She was surprised to discover it was a mare, unusually soft for someone like William the Bloody, but the sex of the horse didn't matter to her at all.
She found the road and rode hard along it for hours.
Xander and Willow led Giles up the staircase of the house, telling him they'd found it abandoned - did they know who used to live here?
"Oh, let me think. I used to see their daughter sometimes in the village - odd girl, kept herself to herself. I wonder where they went?"
Xander looked at Willow and shook his head. It wouldn't be a good thing for anyone to know the family had been murdered - people started pointing fingers, and usually they wound up aimed at Willow.
She knocked on Perdita's door and called her name. Nothing. Glancing up at Xander, she said, "Perdita? I'm coming in. There's someone here who wants to talk to you but I won't let him in until you're ready."
She opened the door. And then she nearly fainted.
"Where the bloody hell," William said, "are my sodding clothes?"
Willow stared at William. William stared at Giles, who came into the doorway with Xander.
"And who's he? Where's Perdita?"
"What did you do with her?" Xander yelled.
"What didn't I do. She was here a couple of hours ago - where'd she go?"
They all looked at each other. "We had the horses," Willow said, "so she can't have got far if she's walking."
"If she's walking," Xander said darkly. "Unless someone took her."
"Now, hold on a minute," Giles said.
"Is my horse there?" William said. "Big black thing. Hooves big enough to squash a man's head. Literally."
Giles went down to look, leaving Willow and Xander glaring at William.
"What? Oh, like she was all maidenly anyway. Wench was giving me the come-on all the time I was here."
"Did you - did you-" Xander began, spluttering slightly.
"Did I ravish her? Destroy her maidenly virtues? Ruin her? Oh, bloody hell, yes. I ruined her for all other men," William said smugly. "Although someone else got there before me on the maiden part."
"This isn't important," Willow said. "Mr. Giles is looking for someone we think might be Perdita. Did she tell you her real name?"
William opened his mouth to tell them Perdita didn't even know her real name, then he thought better of it. "Nope. Who's he looking for - wait, Giles?"
"Yes, Mr. Giles. He's the local schoolmaster."
"Bloody hell," William breathed, as Giles came puffing back up the stairs, shaking his head. "There's no horse there. She must have taken it."
"Rupert Giles?" William drawled, and Giles moved into the room, where William was lighting a lamp. He was still completely naked, but at least covered to the waist by a sheet.
Giles stared. "Good lord," he said.
"Nope, just me. Although I can see how you might make that mistake. What the bloody hell are you doing out here?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Your father-"
"God, is the Colonel still alive?"
"No, he died two years ago, still praying for your repentance."
"Well, that was a bloody daft thing to do."
"I take it you've left the army?"
"Oh yes," William said with obvious relief. "Years ago. Didn't Pa tell you that? I'm a deserter," he said with pride.
"Well done," Xander said. "You know each other?"
"I was friends with his father," Giles said.
"You're friends with everyone's father. Giles, he's a highwayman. He tried to hold up our coach but Perdita stopped him."
"Bloody woman," William grumbled.
"This Perdita you think might be my Elizabeth?"
William perked up. "What's that?"
"My goddaughter. She's gone missing and these two young people seem to think they might know where. But it seems she has disappeared again."
"Yeah, where did she go?" Willow asked William, who shrugged, looking pissy.
"Buggered if I know. Must've stolen away in the night."
"She left her clothes," Willow said, "well, my clothes..."
"And took mine," William snapped.
Xander started laughing. "Does this mean you'll have to wear a dress?"
William glared at him moodily.
"He can wear your spare stuff," Willow said. "Xander, I think we ought to look for her."
"Agreed," Giles said. "She can't have got too far - and a woman in man's clothes can't be too hard to find."
"Stand and deliver," said the tall man in the swirling black cloak. There was a tree felled across the road and he sat on his horse before it. The horse was huge, bigger than Perdita's, stamping its feet meanly and snorting in the darkness. Beside it was another animal, no smaller, with another rider. Both of them had pistols, and both had their faces covered.
"Another highwayman?" Perdita said. "Look, I don't have anything."
"Why don't I believe you?" His words were Irish accented. "Get off your horse. Slowly, now, don't do anything sudden. These weapons can knock a man's head off."
I know, Perdita thought, I'm carrying one.
She got down off the horse and debated whether to tell him she was a woman. After all, if he stripped her as William had said was common, then he'd soon find out. But if he knew she was a woman, then his stripping might take on a very different agenda, and Perdita was exhausted from William's exploration of her, not to mention a little sore. It was a good job she was riding astride, because she doubted she'd ever be able to winch her legs closed again.
"Do you want this one?" the Irishman asked his companion, who got off his horse, handed his pistol over, and strode towards Perdita. She stood firm. The smaller highwayman whisked Perdita's cloak back over her shoulders and slid his hands under her coat to pat her body down.
Then he stopped.
He stood up and looked right at Perdita.
There was a long pause.
"Something wrong?" the Irishman asked.
The other highwayman pulled off Perdita's hat and wrenched the queue from the back of her head. Perdita's long blonde hair tumbled out over her shoulders.
"It's a woman," the smaller man said in a husky voice.
The Irishman leapt off his horse and came over. The smaller man took the guns as the Irishman tilted up Perdita's chin to the moonlight.
"Buffy?"