The Royal Scamp (18 page)

“Excellent. Shall we go?”

“But where is your sister?”

“She’s waiting in the carriage.”

“Oh, I didn’t see her come down.”

“Your aunt told me you were in Buck’s office. I didn’t want Cathy loitering around the lobby, causing a distraction.”

Esther hardly felt the girl was pretty enough to cause a riot, but she knew Beau was uncommonly protective of his sister, and she left after saying good-bye to her aunt.

In the carriage Cathy was as bright-eyed and restless as a squirrel. “You must tell me all about the masquerade, Miss Lowden,”
she said.

Esther passed the first mile with a recital of the decorations and her own costume.

“Who will be attending? Will there be many eligible gentlemen?”

Beau smiled. “I have already informed Cathy of the local bachelors. It is guests from afar she is interested in.”

Esther mentally sorted through the guest list for bachelors, and to add prestige to the occasion, she related any titles that occurred to her. “It will be a grand do, Miss Fletcher. The Countess of Altrane will probably wear her emeralds—they are worth a fortune. And of course Lady Sumner will be dripping in diamonds. Joshua tells me she glows like a rainbow when she is fully caparisoned.”

“Isn’t it rather dangerous, having people cross the heath at this time, carrying their jewelry for a fine ball?”
Beau asked.

“Joshua has taken every precaution,”
she said, and outlined the idea of traveling in a caravan and in daylight.

“That sounds an excellent plan,”
Fletcher said, nodding his head in approval.

As they drew near to London, they all agreed it would be only a short visit. Beau would escort the ladies on their shopping spree in the morning. They would lunch at a hotel, and afterward Beau would leave them to rest in a private parlor for an hour while he attended to matters with his partner in the import business.

Esther enjoyed the shopping. She found her silk flowers, along with a few other elegant trifles. Then they were off to the costume store, where Cathy dallied for a full hour between a shepherdess’s outfit, whose wide-brimmed straw bonnet was very becoming, and a more dashing but less suitable French historical gown.

“The straw bonnet is very fetching,”
Esther urged.

“But I don’t care for the slippers,”
Cathy said, pouting. “They look like a child’s shoes. And besides, they pinch my toes.”

“Wear your own blue patent slippers,”
Beau suggested. “The gown is blue.”

“I do like the bonnet.”
Cathy smiled.

The shepherdess’s outfit was eventually hired, and they continued on to the hotel for luncheon. “Do we have to sit in here?”
Cathy asked, pouting, when they went to the private parlor. “We shan’t be able to see a thing.”

Beau glared, and Cathy went sulking to the table. “I want to keep the straw bonnet, Beau,”
she said. “Buy it for me from the rental man. You promised me a new bonnet.”

“He wouldn’t sell it. It goes with the outfit.”

“But I want it,”
she insisted mulishly. “Buy the whole outfit, then.”

“What, an outfit you’d never wear again? Don’t be foolish.”

“I want a straw bonnet, Beau,”
she said, in the voice of a shrew.

Beau smiled appeasingly. “Oh, very well, we shall buy you a new straw bonnet. I daresay, that will do as well.”

Esther thought what the girl wanted was a good box on the ear. Luncheon was a tedious meal, with Cathy leaving her meat and potatoes on her plate and having two desserts to make up. When Beau left them alone to attend to his business, the afternoon became even more annoying. Bored with her captivity, Cathy insisted on leaving their door ajar, and stood beside it, peering into the hallway for “interesting guests,”
as she explained to Esther. It was only male guests who elicited any interest.

“We should have gone to stay with your cousin,”
Esther said. She rather wondered why Beau hadn’t suggested it.

“That old malkin!”
Cathy scoffed. “She keeps me cooped up like a chicken.”
Then she turned her gaze back to the hall and soon spotted someone she recognized. Esther refused to be lured to the doorway. She had no wish to be presented to the person. He looked a regular seven-day beau, all tricked out in the latest style with a nipped-waist jacket, an excess of gold trinkets jangling from his waistcoat, and an accent that had a noticeable lack of aitches. Where had Cathy met such a creature?

“Where’s Beau?”
the man asked.

Cathy gave an inaudible answer. The man chatted for a while, taking a few laughing looks at Miss Lowden before leaving. “I’ll catch him at the docks, then,”
he said, and left.

“I thought Beau was going to his office,”
Esther said when Cathy came back and lounged beside her at the table.

“He had to go to the docks, too, to see about one of his shipments from Canada. He imports lumber and furs, you know.”

“Oh, yes, he mentioned it. I hope he won’t be too long. If we have still to shop for a bonnet before we leave London, we shall end up crossing the heath after dark. Who was that man at the door, Miss Fletcher?”

“Mitch Tindale. He’s a friend of my cousin—the one I was staying with. I met him at the house.”

“What does he do for a living?”
He did not look like a man of independent means.

Cathy narrowed her eyes and demanded, “What do you mean?”

“Does he work?”

“Oh, no. He’s very well off. A regular swell. Shall we call the servant and ask for some wine, Miss Lowden?”

“You’ve had enough wine. Call for some tea if you just want to pass the time.”

Cathy scowled but jerked the cord, and when the servant appeared, she ordered tea and macaroons, while Esther flipped through a new copy of La Belle Assemblée she had picked up while shopping. It was four o’clock before Beau came back, full of apologies for the delay.

“Now can I get my new bonnet?”
Cathy asked.

“It’s rather late,”
Esther pointed out. “Why don’t you try the shops at home, Miss Fletcher?”

“In that little puddle of a place? They wouldn’t have anything I’d be caught dead in.”

Esther adjusted her provincially purchased bonnet and said through thin lips to Beau, “Let’s get on with it, then, or we’ll be here all day.”

“We’ll leave our parcels here at the inn,”
Beau said, “and have them put in our carriage.”

After visits to three milliners' shops, Cathy finally found a straw bonnet to suit her. The selection had taken a full hour, and the bonnet was ghastly, loaded down with daffodils, poppies, and cornflowers. “What do you think, Miss Lowden?”
Cathy asked.

“Lovely,”
Esther assured her, as approval seemed the fastest way to get home.

When they returned to the hotel, Cathy suddenly found her stomach felt queasy.

“Oh, Lord, it’s all those desserts.”
Beau sighed.

“If I could just lie down for half an hour ...”

“No!”
Esther exclaimed. “Good God, it’s after five already. We’ll never get home at this rate.”

“Perhaps a cup of tea would settle her stomach,”
Beau suggested.

Yet another pot of tea was ordered. Cathy recovered sufficiently to prance around in her new bonnet, making faces at herself in the mirror. Beau turned apologetically to Esther. “Sorry for the delay, but we don’t want her to be sick in the carriage. Cathy tells me a caller stopped around while I was away.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t doubt the little hussy slipped him a message we would be here. She might have sent a note from your inn.”

“She did watch the door rather closely, now you mention it. Surely he isn’t the fellow from the Guards you mentioned.”

Beau laughed. “Lord, no. He’s some friend of the aunt Cathy was staying with. I haven’t met him. You sound disapproving, Esther. Is he not gentlemanly?”

“Not very.”

“I shall make sure she’s kept away from him. You see now why I was so eager to have her with me. I’m afraid Auntie didn’t watch her as closely as I would like. The girl’s manners have become atrocious. I have suggested she model herself on you.”

Esther, unimpressed at this flattery, drew out her watch. “What’s keeping that tea?”

“It’s getting so late—we really ought to have a bite before we leave, or Cathy will take into her head to make us stop somewhere else. She only pecked at her lunch. Once we leave London, there’s nothing but the Black Knight, and I can hardly take you there.”

Cathy turned and looked over her shoulder. “Did you suggest we have a bite, Beau? What a good idea. I’m starved,”

“If we’re all attacked by Captain Johnnie on the way home, pray don’t put the blame on me,”
Esther said, and crossed her arms to show she was peeved with the pair of them.

Coming with the Fletchers had been a wretched idea. Beau was well enough, but his sister showed clearly that the family was not what she was used to. They would probably do quite well with the inn, however, and if Beau made her a good offer, she would accept.

Twilight was falling when they pulled out of London. Before long the carriage was racing through the starry blackness of Hounslow Heath. Overhead a pale moon shone, silvering the shrubs and low-lying mist that clung to the ground. The road wound like a ribbon, white and flat, through the waste track of heath, to disappear into a tunnel of tall trees ahead. The only sounds were the rattle of wheels and the regular clop-clop of the horses’
hooves. Tension coiled, snakelike, in Esther’s breast. Cathy was nervous, too. She clung to her brother’s sleeve in the dark coach.

Esther decided to say what they were all thinking. “If Captain Johnnie strikes, that stand of trees is where he’ll attack. It gives excellent cover for a highwayman. We shouldn’t have left London so late.”

“I promised your aunt I’d have you home tonight,”
Beau Fletcher reminded her.

“What you actually promised is that we’d be home safe before dark,”
Esther corrected.

The shadowy form of Beau Fletcher across from her spoke in his usual lively accent. “Why, Esther, I’ve heard you say a dozen times you’d like to meet Captain Johnnie! What is there to fear? We’ve taken the precaution of leaving our money behind—you ladies with the milliners and drapers, and I with the bank. You aren’t wearing any significant jewelry, and you have me to protect your honor.”

‘I love my new straw bonnet,”
Cathy said, perhaps fearing a highwayman would steal it.

Esther found it odd that Beau Fletcher, so dashing and intelligent, should have a perfect widgeon for a sister. If she had to hear once more how much Cathy loved her new straw bonnet, she would crown her. The bonnet was hideous and entirely unsuited to her years. But then, Cathy was young, and a country girl. No doubt the miscellany of flowers and black velvet ribbons struck her as the height of elegance.

Suddenly Beau leaned forward, his head at an alert angle. “Did you hear something?”
At that moment the moonlight was cut off as they entered the tunnel of trees. Branches met in an arch overhead, casting them into pitch blackness. Esther knew that this tree tunnel extended for some three or four hundred feet.

They all listened tensely. The whispering of the  boughs mingled with the sounds of the carriage. Nothing else. No hoof beats of a highwayman’s mount, no jingling of harness, no warning shot. “You’re frightening us to death, Beau,”
Esther scolded.

“No, really! Didn’t you hear it?”
he asked. He had his ear to the open window now, straining for a sound.

It was enough to set Esther’s heart pounding, and Cathy was clinging to Beau’s sleeve like a limpet. Esther listened again and heard it. It sounded like an echo at first, the mere echo of hoofbeats. Someone was advancing along the road toward them, and she was struck with the cold certainty that it was the legendary Royal Scamp, Captain Johnnie. It had been madness to set out across infamous Hounslow Heath after dark.

It was true she had often said in jest that she would like to meet him. Who wouldn’t like to meet a folk hero imbued with an aura of glamour and a history that appealed to ladies of a romantic disposition? The sound of hoofbeats thundered nearer. There was no longer any doubt that a single rider was fast approaching; it remained only to see whether it was Captain Johnnie or someone else. When the shot rang out, they all jumped half a foot from the banquettes. Cathy squealed, and simultaneously the carriage slowed with a lurch.

Captain Johnnie had performed according to his accustomed role, then. He had shot off the driver’s hat. If he had killed him, the horses would have bolted instead of slackening pace. Esther was shaking like a blanc-manger. Her heart thumped against her rib cage—but at the bottom of all her fright, a spring of excitement coiled. She felt the way she felt when her hunter raced at high wood or wide water. There was danger, but not real fear for one’s life. It was an almost unbearable excitement, a tingling up the spine, a shiver along the scalp, and a roiling tumult inside.

“Beau, don’t try to be a hero,”
she cautioned. “Just do whatever he says. They say he doesn’t hurt anyone if you do as he says. We don’t want to be shot.”

The carriage ground to a stop. “Under the carriage, facedown,”
a peremptory voice commanded. This was another part of Captain Johnnie’s routine. He forced the driver under the carriage, to keep him from retaliating. The groom scrambled down from his perch without a word. The women looked to Beau for protection as the sound of Captain Johnnie’s boots advanced rapidly to the carriage door. He flung it open, and they gazed at the terror of the heath, the Royal Scamp, Captain Johnnie.

Though he had many imitators, there was no doubt in Esther’s mind that this was the genuine article. He looked the way a folk hero should look. The tunnel was all in darkness, but when he ordered them out, the carriage lamps gave enough illumination to show them his outline. He was a tall, straight young man with broad shoulders. Bright eyes glittered behind the mask, and his jaw was square. A fall of white Mechlin lace was at his throat. He removed his hat with a theatrical gesture and bowed low, but with his gun pointed unwaveringly at Beau. His hair was as black as the jet stallion chomping the grass behind him. Captain Johnnie smiled a rakish smile, revealing a flash of white teeth.