Helen Dickson - A Wayward Woman

The driver pulled on the brake lever and hauled at the reins to bring the team to a halt. Belle heard a muffled voice ordering the footmen and the coachman to climb down. Belle was beset with alarm. After what seemed like an eternity, but could not have been longer than a minute, the door was pulled open and the muzzle of a pistol appeared in the doorway held by a man in full cape and a tricorn low over his brow.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded. ‘If you mean to rob me, I have no money on me.’

‘Step outside, if you please,’ the man said from behind a concealing scarf half-covering his face, his voice low and rough sounding. ‘I will see for myself. I will be on my way when you’ve handed over your valuables. Be kind enough to oblige without causing me any trouble.’

Struggling to gather her wits about her and trying to quell the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, with great indignation, Belle said courageously, ‘I most certainly will not! You’ll get nothing from me, you thieving rogue.’

The pistol was raised, its single black eye settling on Belle where it stared unblinkingly for a long moment. Beneath the threat, even that brave young woman froze, as the man growled, ‘Then I’ll just have to take it. Get out of the coach—if you please, my lady,’ he added with mock sweetness.

With the pistol levelled on her, she knew there was nothing for it but to comply with the thief’s demands. He was ominously calm and there was an air of deadliness about him. Stepping down, she gasped with concern on seeing the footmen and the coachman all bound helplessly together. Unconcerned for her own safety, she turned her wrath on their assailant. The cold fire in her eyes bespoke the fury churning within her. She held herself in tight rein until the rage cooled. What was left was a gnawing wish to see this highway robber at the end of a rope.

‘How dare you do this? Please God you haven’t harmed them. What is the meaning of this?’ she demanded.

The robber scorned the words and would heed no argument. ‘Quiet, lady,’ the tall, shadowy figure rasped.

Belle’s eyes were glued to him. This was not how she had imagined highwaymen to be—fearless cavaliers, carefree, chivalrous, romantic knights, in masks and three-cornered hats, adventurers, ‘Gentleman of the Road’. Reluctant to submit to this footpad’s searching hands, she stepped back and looked around her, considering the idea that she might be able to disappear into the confines of the trees.

He read her thoughts. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he rasped. ‘It would be foolish to think you could get away. You could not escape me if you tried.’ He swaggered closer. ‘What have you got, pretty lady, hidden beneath your cloak? A well-heeled lady like yourself must have something. Show me. Come now,’ he said when she shrank back, ‘it’s not worth dying for, no matter how much your valuables are worth. Are they so concealed that my fingers may have to forage?’

She shook her head, taking another step away from him. ‘Keep away from me. You are nothing but a thieving, unmitigated rogue out for easy money.’

‘True,’ he agreed almost pleasantly. ‘Come now—a bracelet, a brooch, a pretty necklace—a rich lady like yourself will not miss a bauble or two. I must ask you to hurry. I find myself getting impatient and that causes my finger to twitch on the trigger of my pistol.’

When he reached out to her with his free hand, incensed with his boldness and at the same time terrified of what he might do to her, Belle slapped his hand away. ‘Get away from me, you lout.’

He uttered a soft curse. ‘For a wench who has no help at hand, you’re mighty high minded. Do you think you can stand against me with your impudence? You’ll come to heel if I kill you first.’

‘I’ll shred your hand if you dare to touch me. I swear I will. Leave me alone,’ she cried, her body trembling with fear. ‘You have no right to touch me.’

‘Stop your blustering.’ In the blink of an eye he had reached out and flicked open the frogging securing the front of her cloak, which slid from her shoulders to her feet. Catching the light of the carriage lamps, the necklace sparkled. The man emitted a low whistle of admiration.

‘So, milady, you say you have nothing of value. Those sparklers look pretty expensive to me. Remove it.’ When she made no move to do so, he bowed his head in mock politeness. ‘If you please.’

‘You can go to hell,’ she hissed.

‘I shall—and very soon, I don’t doubt, for my chosen profession usually includes death at an early age.’

‘And well deserved,’ she retorted indignantly. ‘Hanging’s too good for the likes of you.’

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound feeding Belle’s anger. ‘You think you’re not afraid of me, don’t you?’ he said. ‘You sneer at me with your pretty face and big monkey eyes. When I take to the road I feel like a king and I’d like to think tonight is to be my lucky night and come daybreak I shall be as rich as one. Now turn around,’ he ordered, ‘if you value your life. If you try anything rash, I have no qualms about shooting your coachman.’

Afraid that he might carry out his threat, Belle reluctantly turned her back to the robber, who moved to stand directly behind her and, using one hand, his fingers reached to the back of her neck. A deadly sickness came upon her and she flinched when she felt the cool contact on her flesh. It only took him a second to unclasp and whip the necklace away.

Shoving the precious gems inside a pocket of his cape, the thief backed away, keeping the pistol levelled at her. ‘There, that wasn’t too painful, was it?’

‘You have what you want,’ Belle uttered scornfully. ‘Now what do you mean to do with us? Shoot us?’

‘Nothing so dramatic.’

‘Then you can leave us. I have nothing else to give.’

The man laughed. ‘’Twill be more than your jewels I’ll be having my fun with, your ladyship.’

When he moved closer Belle took a step back. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, amused when she drew back. Tiny shards of fear pricked Belle’s spine while a coldness congealed in the pit of her stomach. She was wary of angering him and bringing him to a level of violence that would destroy her. She had heard tales of how highwaymen sometimes killed those they waylaid—and a lone woman wouldn’t stand a chance against the strength of such a powerful man.

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she whispered, almost choking on the words.

‘Wouldn’t I?’

‘And don’t look at me like that.’ She could feel his eyes devouring her, and could well imagine the lascivious smile on his lips behind the scarf. A shudder ran through her, and it was not because it was cold. ‘You’ll hang for sure.’

He placed the pistol beneath her chin so that the barrel touched her throat and tipped her face up to his. ‘Madam, if looking is a hanging offence, then I’d rather fulfil every aspect of my desire and be strung up for a lion than a lamb.’

She stared back at him in horror—the colour drained from her face. After a moment, which seemed like an eternity to Belle, he removed the pistol and stepped back.

‘Please don’t touch me again.’

He cocked a brow. ‘Please, is it? So the lady has remembered her manners. But worry not. I have neither the time nor the inclination, lady. I have what I want—you have been most generous. I thank you for your co-operation.’

‘Don’t think you’ll get away with this—you—you devil.’ Belle cried, unable to contain her fury. ‘I’ll find out who you are and see you hang. I swear I will.’

The thief laughed in the face of her ire. ‘Dear me, little lady. You have a strange preoccupation with seeing me hang. I’d dearly like to see you try.’