Chapter 36: Gentlemen of the Road

Anger, all-consuming anger, was bubbling inside Jane as she prepared to return to London. Yesterday's dreary feeling of disappointment had sharpened overnight. William had not sought her bed after she retired, making some excuse that she would want her sleep before her journey. He had not flirted again with Lady Sattersby, but had spent the evening playing cards with his brother and uncle. Jane had not felt like playing, and had found a book. Lady Sattersby, charmingly dressed, accompanied them on the harp. No. No flirtation, but an occasional meeting of the eyes. Jane was certain now that her husband had lied to her. The thought made her feel sick, and was not helped by the idea that somehow William thought he was doing the right thing by protecting his wife from unpleasant reality. How stupid does he think me?

As stupid as Lord Sattersby, evidently. There still had been no explosion from that quarter. Either her husband's cousin did not care, or was still in ignorance of the affair. Jane was glad to leave and avoid any possible unpleasantness, but she resented being packed off so her husband and his paramour could enjoy their shabby little romance without restraint. Letty was quiet, sparing her feelings, but evidently was as glad to be gone as she.

In fact, Letty was delighted to be going. London beckoned, and nothing here equaled it. She had seen and stayed in a real castle, and while it was very grand, it was also not very comfortable. Also, she now knew, mere wealth and title did not guarantee a refined experience. If I had a country house, she thought, giving free rein to her imagination, I would open it to all sorts of clever, interesting people. The only person I really enjoyed visiting with here was the Maestro, and I already know him. I'd invite painters and poets and philosophers, and perhaps we would read plays and the newest books. I would have the very best musicians, and no one would be allowed to chatter while they were performing. It wouldn't be all this dull sporting talk and society gossip.

Not that it had been all bad, of course. She had enjoyed learning to ride, but she would have enjoyed it more in better company. Her sister's unhappiness weighed on her, spoiling the visit. If she were the hostess, she would make certain that all the guests got on, and that no one was made unhappy. I would try not to make people do things they had rather not, just because I thought it would amuse me. No matter: in a few hours they would be back in London, and she would be back in her pretty blue room. Perhaps they could go to the booksellers. Letty had won a few pounds at the card tables, and wanted to add to her slender library. I shall practice more on the harp, too. I was too embarrassed to touch the instrument here with Lady Sattersby nearby. She would prefer not to see that lady again, in fact. She had hurt her sister, and led the Colonel astray, and Letty considered her a bad, selfish woman.

There was no escaping her, though. Jane had wanted to call the carriage for seven, but her suggestion had been scouted by the Earl himself, who would not hear of Mrs. Tavington leaving so early and missing the company of his other guests at breakfast. Jane was informed that her carriage would be at the door at ten, which would give them all plenty of time for a good hearty breakfast and a pleasant family chat.

Jane had still risen early, fed the baby, discussed the plans with Moll, and had set Pullen to work packing. When the carriage finally made its appearance, they would not waste a moment in leaving. The Earl had given broad hints to everyone that they ought to be present. Even Sir John was there, looking grim and heavy-headed after a great deal of brandy the night before. Jane's brother-in-law said little, and ate less. He drank endless cups of strong tea, and growled something unintelligible in response to Lady Trumfleet's observations about the fine day before them. Jane wished she were a man, and could growl at people, too. But she must not, even though she thought this breakfast as greasy and lukewarm as every breakfast at Colneford Castle had been.

To add to her aggravation, Lady Sattersby made a point of sitting next to her, whispering confidences, and touching her hand in an affectionate manner. It was the harshest test of her manners that Jane had ever faced. She wanted nothing so much as for this woman to leave her alone. Jane refused to look at Tavington, lest she see him watching with smug approval and lose control of herself. A wise decision, for at that very moment, Tavington was looking approvingly at Jane, grateful for her forbearance.

It would be better if she were a little warmer with Kitty, he thought, but he must not ask too much. Jane was behaving very properly: her manner calm and well-bred. Someone who did not know her might think that her customary demeanour. His uncle, for example.

"Nice little wife you have, my boy," Lord Colchester declared to his nephew, all too audibly. "Quiet and unassuming. You should encourage her to talk more: Kitty quite puts her in the shade. Some might think differently, but I find her accent very—quaint. Can't help her looks, of course, but a bit more spirit would become her. I daresay she's a little abashed, seeing all this after living in the Colonies. Give her time."

Jane was forced to take deep breaths and remind herself that the Earl was well-meaning. Well-meaning or not, however, his patronizing remarks enraged her. She felt her face grow hot, and she started up from the breakfast table almost violently. "Heavens! Look at the time! And I still have so much to do!" She managed to turn her back to them and hurry from the room before the tears that burned in her eyes could overflow and humiliate her more. She found her way back to her room to see that Pullen had finished packing for both her ladies, and was herself ready to depart. After the last of her preparations, Jane decided to go down to the Hall with her maid and read until the blessed hour of release.

She was glad to hear Tom and Moll coming down the stairs, talking very quietly. Moll had the baby, and watched her step as she descended. Tom had Moll's small trunk and the long bundle that only the Tavington household knew was Moll's beloved musket. Jane found a creaky chair and watched the minutes tick away on the ornate Dutch clock. Letty joined her soon, already wrapped in her cloak. There were only ten minutes to get through. They were to have no peace, however. The house party emerged from the breakfast parlor by twos and threes, converging on the departing guests.

The Earl bowed and made lavish compliments, which Jane found intolerable after hearing his real opinion less than an hour before. Nonetheless, she and Letty smiled and curtseyed demurely. Lady Trumfleet shook hands, with a hint of amusement. Jane returned a faint sneer, which startled Tavington's cousin. She had not thought the Colonial girl to have had so much spirit. Lady Sattersby's friendly effusions were met with words that were perfectly polite and perfectly insincere. The two younger lords were more casual in their farewells, which was a relief. Jane briefly met Lord Sattersby's eye, searching for any acknowledgement, any hint of fellow-feeling, but found nothing but a blank wall of indifferent civility.

Sir John bowed courteously to them both. "Ladies, a safe and pleasant journey. I hope to find you well when we return later in the week. Perhaps Will shall be able to join you for that concert after all."

"Well," replied Tavington, grimacing uneasily at John's suggestion, "I think it unlikely, but we shall hope for the best." He kissed Jane's hand. "My dear, Godspeed to you. Dear sister, your servant."

Jane did not trust herself to speak to him. She merely gave him a grave nod, and then she and Letty curtseyed to the party in their turn. The coachman was drawing rein before the front steps, the sweetest sound in all the world. Jane said, "Lord Colchester, I thank you for your gracious hospitality. Lord and Lady Trumfleet, Lord and Lady Sattersby: I shall never forget this visit. My dear brother," she said to John, "Until we meet again."

Uncomfortable with the stiff formality of their departure, Letty blurted out, "Thank you, my lord, for your generosity. I did so enjoy the music and the horseback ride. I am very grateful for all the trouble you took to devise entertainments for us." She blushed and added, "Farewell to you all."

Jane was already turning away, eager to escape, and Letty followed in her sister's train. The servants had stowed everything away with tremendous dispatch, and within minutes, they were rolling away, giving the obligatory waves, and then settling back against the cushions with sentiments ranging from relief, to resentment, to anticipation at seeing London again.

-----

Gradually, Jane became aware of a hollow, starved feeling. William Francis had alerted her to the sensation, with his enjoyment of his own elevenses. After two hours, bumping along in the coach, she considered their coming arrival in London. Lady Cecily always dined fashionably late. Even with afternoon tea, she was in for a long wait. Sulking over her breakfast had had definite repercussions.

"I think I would like to stop and have a meal somewhere," she announced to the other women in the coach. "Letty, would you mind if we found an inn along the way and stopped? I hardly ate any breakfast, and I'm dreadfully hungry."

"No—of course, if you are hungry. That could be pleasant. We shall stop and have a pleasant meal in a private room. It will be good for all of us." Letty was a little alarmed at Jane's pale, strained face. "You'll feel better after you eat. The sausages at the Castle were rather—horrible."

Jane gave a faint snort. "It seems that's the way Lord Colchester likes them. He ate enough of them." Sufficiently distant from the sight, she could even smile.

Moll leaned out of the window and shouted up at their new coachman, "Scoggins! Ho there! Mrs. Tavington wants to find an inn!" Scoggins reined in and pulled the chaise to a halt. He climbed down from his box to hear his what his mistress ordered. Tom jumped down from the back, grinning at Moll, stretching cramped muscles.

Jane asked, "Do you know of any good inns along this road, Scoggins? Somewhere to find a decent meal?"

The coachman scratched his head. "Well, ma'am, we would ha' done better to stop in Chelmsford, but the Bell is a fair coaching inn, two miles or so further on down the road. Mind you, 'tis not the equal of the King's Head in Chelmsford, but I've been there, and the food is good enough."

Tom volunteered, "P'raps we should turn about and go to Chelmsford. This stretch of road is none too safe."

"Aye, the Carver brothers have struck hereabouts, but the ladies should be safe enough at the Bell, with all the folk about. Be a shame to lose six miles."

Jane hated it when men started talking to one another as if her opinion did not matter. "Yes, Scoggins, we do want to reach London as soon as possible. We will go to the Bell."

Letty asked anxiously, "Who are the Carver brothers?"

"Pair of highwaymen, miss, 'gentlemen of the road,' they call themselves—robbers and bandits, I call 'em. Two brothers, working the road together. We don't want to cross their path, I can tell you."

Moll growled, "They don't want to cross me, either, the villains!"

"I daresay not," laughed Jane. "Enough. Let us go to the Bell and we'll all have something to eat!"

Cheered at the prospect, the men took their posts and they headed swiftly down the tree-lined road. In less than a quarter hour, they arrived at a bustling establishment and were greeted effusively by the landlord.

"A private room for the ladies and their maidservants!" Tom demanded, shouldering his way past the ostlers. He handed the coach's occupants down and saw them safely into the inn. A little private parlor welcomed the four women, with a cozy fire and some good, simple fare. In all honesty, it was only marginally better than the breakfast at the castle, but Jane felt more comfortable here, and the food was more to her taste. No one at the little table would demean her or harass her. Even Pullen, the least known of her companions, had so far shown herself trustworthy. She hoped the two men were faring as well downstairs in the common room. There was a dressed cucumber, and some clear soup, and some tender roast goose. The apple dumplings were delicious. Jane savored hers slowly, wanting to enjoy the peace of the little parlor as long as possible.

"It's right nice, sometimes, not to have men hanging around, scrounging the best cuts of meat," Moll observed, spooning gravy over an impressive hill of buttered turnips.

"Very nice, today," Jane added.

Letty smiled and said nothing, but Pullen muttered, "You could sink the whole lot of them in the Thames, and we'd all be better off."

At the moment, Jane agreed, though Pullen's bitterness surprised her, and roused her curiosity.

Moll shook her head. "I like men, mostly. I reckon you've sworn off them, being as you went to that Magdalen place."

Letty said kindly, "You don't have to tell us anything, Pullen—"

Her fork poised in the air, Pullen made an odd face, and said, "I don't mind, Miss, seeing 'tis just ourselves." She looked at Jane for permission.

Jane thought she would never have a better chance to hear her maid's story. "If it eases you to talk about it, Pullen. Nothing you say will leave this room."

"Well, then, ma'am," the young woman began, "'tis as I said before to you. I hate it when men deceive women. My own mother was cruelly betrayed by a gentleman—a clerk in the City, he was—who promised to wed her and take all of us in as his own."

Jane refrained from smiling at Pullen's description of a clerk as a 'gentleman.' "I take it he did not keep his word in marrying her."

"Oh, that! He took her as wife, right enough, but afterwards, he rid himself of the lot of us--sent my two brothers to sea, though they were naught but eight and eleven. I was put out into service—given to a clergyman's family, and at ten I found it a heavy thing to leave my mother and see her no more."

"You never saw her again?" asked Letty, feeling very sorry for Pullen.

"Never, Miss, for she died less than a twelvemonth after. Nor have I ever seen my brothers, nor heard word of them. I jogged along well enough with Mr. Heyward and his family for some time. They considered me a kind of apprentice maidservant, and so I had no wages, but I had clothes and food, and a bed I shared with two other maids. When I turned twenty, they began paying me a bit, and I thought myself well situated, but that black day came—" she broke off, frowning.

"A black day?" prompted Moll, wanting to know the worst at once.

"Mr. Heyward's younger brother came to stop with us. He was to be a lawyer, and Mr. Heyward's house was convenient for his learning. Not so handsome as some—not a patch on the Colonel, if you'll forgive my boldness, ma'am—but 'twere no matter. He was one for taking what he wanted—" she gave a snort. "Aye, he took me without a by-your-leave one morning, as I cleaned his bedchamber. I thought I would smother with the pillow over my face. He told me I'd be turned away as a thief if I told anyone. Then he left me and went off to his breakfast, and never looked my way again."

"Did not your master provide for you when your condition became apparent?"

"That he did not, Mrs. Tavington. For when Cook winkled the truth out of me, the gentleman claimed he had never known me, and that I was a common trull, and the sport of the whole street. I was put out out the door with nowhere to go. There I was, alone that first night, and I was set upon by a gang of villains, who used me vilely, and beat me so I lay senseless in the street. When I came to myself, my little bundle of clothes and money was gone."

"How did you make shift to live?" asked Jane, utterly appalled.

Pullen smiled sourly. "By becoming what young Mr. Heyward had accused me of being. I had nothing to sell but myself, and so I did. I fell in with some others of the same sort—you'd be surprised to know how many of London's harlots are honest servants turned out of their places by the wickedness of their masters. But it was that or starve."

Moll remembered some of the women who had followed the army, who made good marriages in spite of their former trade. "Surely it ain't all bad. Some of the fellows must have been decent enough."

Pullen looked at Moll as if she had lost her mind. "Some of them didn't beat me or steal my money, if that's what you mean. At least I have sense enough never to marry one of those liars. I wouldn't bear all that again for a hundred pounds!"

Jane and Letty were impressed by her fervor. Moll looked at her pityingly, feeling very sad that Pullen had never known one of life's greatest joys. She only said, "So you found that Magdalen place, and they took you in."

"Not right away. They don't want women with child."

"What happened to your baby?" Jane asked, fearing the truth.

""Twere born early and dead. Some fellow was rough on me, one night—beg pardon, Miss. Afterwards I no longer felt it quick in me. Little crumpled-up thing it was when it came out a bit later. One of the other girls took it away, and said she put it in an old bandbox, and buried it in a freshly-dug grave in a churchyard. Don't know if she told me true. More like she threw it out in the midden. Anyway, that was that. I didn't want to die, and I'd seen enough by then to know I'd never make it though the winter on gin and the butcher's scraps. Most of the girls only survive two or three years at most. I went to the Magdalen, and the matron was a fair-minded woman. There were all sorts of girls there--even some young ladies. The matron gave us decent grey gowns, and two pints of beer a day, and better food that I had at Mr. Heyward's. I learned fine needlework there, and hairdressing, and I'm most beholden to the charitable folk who run the place."

"And you met Miss Penelope Tavington, there, I presume."

"Oh, yes! Miss Penelope is a kind lady. She comes to the chapel services there sometimes. Lots of the quality do. You even see gentlemen there often, looking the girls over and sniggering. I saw young Mr. Heyward there a time or two with his friends, but he didn't remember me. Anyway, I like to think that maybe when Mr. Heyward loses enough of his maidservants, he might believe them when they tell him about his brother. I hope so. So that's my story, and a sorry one it is. I'm most obliged to be in your household, Ma'am—and Miss. I know when I'm well off. You'll never hear of me walking out with the men of a Sunday!"

"I imagine not, Pullen," Jane replied, feeling angry at all men on her maid's account.

-----

Down below, the menservants, happily ignorant of the wrath being directed at their sex, nursed their pints and downed their portions of bread and cheese and roast beef with gusto. Scoggins went out briefly to check the harness, and chatted with a few of the hangers-on about the place. It was a fine day, and he was proud of his new position with a gentleman's family. He boasted of their connection with his lordship the Earl of Colchester. "The mistress is just coming back from a stay with the man himself," he declared. "I couldn't be drivin' a better family, save his Blessed Majesty's."

"Rich, I reckon," a new acquaintance supposed. His companion was equally full of respectful curiosity. "No end of silks and jewels, from the look of them."

"No end at alll," confirmed Scoggins. "A finer pair of ladies you'll never see."

"And travelling all by themselves—"

"With a baby!"

"You'd do well to look after your mistress," the taller of the men advised Scoggins. "Unprotected ladies and all. You'd best keep your eyes open on the London road."

Scoggins laughed. "That I'll do!" He was satisfied that the team and harness were in proper order, and went back inside for another pint with Tom. His companions smirked, and sought their own horses.

-----

They had not left the inn three miles behind them, when a pair of riders trotted out from the woods to their left. Jane was lost in her thoughts, angry with her husband again. She did not know they were in danger until she heard the shout. Moll, however, had been on the watch, and was already scrambling under the coach seat for her musket.

"Letty, hold the baby!" she hissed, too hurried for titles.

A split-second later, they heard the words that every traveler dreaded. "Stand and deliver!"

Jane felt her hair prickle with a thrill of terror. Immediately, she dropped to the floor, scrambling for her own wooden box. The latch stuck, and she cut her finger, fumbling with it. In another moment, she had her pistol in her hand.

Scoggins was reining in, crying, "Don't shoot! There are women in the coach!"

His protests were greeted with knowing snickers. Jane looked out cautiously and saw the two men, their faces muffled, pistols trained on her driver and her footman. The bigger man called, "Aye, young women and a sweet little child! We wouldn't dream of hurting such—if you mind what we say! You ladies in there, come out! Step on down quiet now. You—fellow! Let down the stairs and let's have a look at the catch!"

Tom reluctantly jumped down from the back, and took his time walking over to the folding steps.

Jane looked at Moll, who whispered, "If they don't drop their weapons right away, you shoot and shoot straight." She pulled her musket from its wrappings, took a deep breath, and gave Jane a nod. Letty, the baby in her arms, sank trembling to the floor of the coach. Pullen, with a wild look, dropped her sewing and followed her example. Moll flicked her musket up, taking aim, while Jane gripped her pistol with both hands, pointing it at the smaller of the two men. "Drop you weapons or you're dead!" Moll roared.

The Carver brothers had met resistance before, but never from women. Dick Carver, sitting smugly behind his brother Sam, made a foolish mistake. He stared, jaw dropped, at the sight of a furious fine lady aiming a pistol at him, and thus he looked away from an equally furious footman, who made a mighty leap at Dick and seized him about the waist, trying to pull him down from his horse. Startled, Dick fired wildly, and his shot went into the treetops. His horse shied and slammed against his brother's. Jane waited for her chance, but dared not shoot for fear of hitting Tom.

"You bloody bitches!" snarled Sam Carver. He saw a musket poking out of the coach window, and fired his pistol at it. Another mistake. The weapon was knocked aside by his brother's arm, as he lurched against his brother. The ball grazed Dick's ear. The younger Carver screamed and dropped his pistol. His horse shimmied in a tight circle, knocking Tom aside.

Moll's field of fire was clear, but in the confusion a perfect shot was impossible. No matter. A thunderclap, and a tang of rotten eggs. The musket kicked back against Moll's steady shoulder, and Sam Carver howled from the agony of a bullet in the flesh above his hip. Little William Francis shrieked, his ears hurting from the terrible noise. Pullen sobbed out a prayer. Letty made not a sound, but shook with fear as she tried to comfort the baby, clutching him close.

Dick reached with his unhurt arm to support his brother, and wailed in horror, "You've shot him, you filthy whores! You shot my brother!"

His injured indignation pushed Jane over the edge. She leaned out of the window, waving her pistol like a madwoman. "I'll shoot you dead, you devils! Run for you worthless lives!" Jane shrieked, white-hot wrath spilling out of her. She had had just a little more than enough of arrogant men on horseback. Her finger twitched on the trigger, longing to fire at the villains. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" Moll was trying to reload in the cramped quarters. Jane's pistol held their last shot, and she dared not waste it. "Tom," Jane shouted, "move aside! I'm going to shoot that dirty dog!" The sensible Tom darted aside nimbly, but the Carvers were already spurring away, disappearing into the trees. Jane screamed again in frustration, and fired after them, wishing them dead. The pistol shot filled her with exhilaration. "Dirty cowards! You come back here so I can kill you! You'll hang for this! Dirty, dirty cowards!"

Moll had reloaded, and was ready if the highwaymen returned, but she decided that was unlikely. She put a hand out to pull Jane back into the coach. "It's all right, ma'am: they're gone. We did for them good and proper! You, Tom! Get their pistols! I reckon they're ours now."

"Yes, Tom!" Jane agreed, rather drunk with excitement and anger. "The spoils of war! Dirty cowards!" she shouted again, waving her discharged pistol a last time. Coming to herself, she set the weapon down beside her and reached out to take her crying baby. "Oh, my poor boy! I'm sorry there was such an awful noise! We'll kill those bad men dead if they ever come back! Yes, we will!"

Scoggins was down from the coachman's box, and was staring white-faced into the coach. "Mrs. Tavington! Are you all right, ma'am?"

Jane laughed, a little hysterically, "Yes, Scoggins, quite all right. Better than the robbers!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I was unarmed and didn't want the villains to hurt you—"

Jane tried to calm down. "That's perfectly all right, Scoggins. You did well to stay where you were and keep the horses from bolting. No weapon?" She remembered Silas and the roar of his fowling piece. "Here, Tom, give him one of the pistols and take the other for yourself! They are yours to keep. When we get back to London I shall buy powder and shot for you both. I should have thought of it before." She was coming down from her rage, and felt rather shaky. "Scoggins, take us away from this place! I think those robbers will be licking their wounds for some time, but I don't want to find out if they have friends."

Moll grunted her approval and flashed a smile at Tom, who grinned back, selecting the better of the two pistols for himself. The footman dusted himself off, straightened his wig, and jumped back to his post on the back of the coach, holding on to the handgrips. Scoggins climbed wearily back into his box, and sat unmoving for a moment, sick with the realization that he might have betrayed his new family unwittingly. They were very lucky that no worse had happened. No, they were lucky that the mistress and Moll Royston were odd enough, mad enough, to be traveling armed. He shook his head, determined to watch his tongue in the future. They must be off now, and no harm done. He flicked the reins at his team.

Inside the coach, the baby's wails gradually subsided. Jane quieted down, beginning to feel strangely sleepy. Letty slid back into her seat, murmuring, "Thank God we are all safe."

Pullen said nothing at all, gaping at her mistress and the nursemaid as if they were mythical beasts of uncertain reliability.

Moll, for her part, was pleased at how the skirmish had played out. Who would have thought that Mrs. Tavington would have carried on so, like a young ensign in his first battle? The sight brought back some fond memories. Some young soldiers went right wild their first time. It had gone pretty well. The outlaws had been wounded and driven off, which in her opinion was the best outcome possible. If they had been merely scared away, they might have rallied and laid in wait further up the road. If one of both had actually been killed, there would have been questions and possible accusations. There was no knowing what friends those fellows might have in the neighborhood, and Mrs. Tavington was unknown here. Better to fight them off and get on back to town. She kept an eye on the road, however, for the next hour, until they reached the outskirts of London, and Moll felt they were completely out of danger.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they finally halted by the door of Number 12, Mortimer Square. Jane had awakened from a nap to hear the sounds of the street-vendors crying their lavender and apples, their fish and ribbons. It was the daily carnival of London life, but today she felt as if it were a triumphant welcome home. She had never felt so in command of her life before. She swept into the house with air of a victorious general, and for a little while, nothing a silly, spiteful mother-in-law might say could touch her. The women followed her, all happy at the prospect of a wash and a rest. The men unloaded the coach, and had quite a tale to tell the other servants who came out to help.

"--Young Mrs. Tavington? She threatened them with a pistol?"

"—You should have seen her? Like a Fury, she was!"

"—Let us keep their pistols, as spoils of war, like!"

"--Mrs. Royston shot one of them with her musket?"

"--Was it really the Carver brothers?"

"--Oh, my! I must tell my sister!"

-----

Two days later, the thrilling news had found its way into the Morning Post.

"Mrs. T-------n, newly arrived from the tropical climes of Carolina, proved a worthy partner of the famed Colonel T-------n, of whose exploits in America the whole town speaks. No fiercer was Queen Boadicea in her chariot than Mrs. T-------n in her carriage, when set upon by highwaymen, in fact the notorious brothers Richard and Samuel Carver. Like a tigress defending her young, the lady was impelled by the tenderest maternal sentiments to draw pistol on the infamous pair, and set them to flight with the aid of her servants. Inspired by their mistress' fiery example, …"

Thank you to all my reviewers and those who expressed support during my current computer crisis. The files have been retrieved and everything seems to be working now!

Next—Chapter 37: Wargrave Hall