Lily and the Lion (18 page)

Peter made a scoffing noise. "Oh, Lily! Why do you pretend as though you don't understand me? You know how I feel about you—"

Peter's eloquent professions of love were curtailed by the coach stopping very suddenly, in fact more abruptly than when they'd stopped to help the Tappers. Lily was propelled from her seat, but, thankfully, was caught at the waist by Lord Ashton, who somehow managed to maintain his balance and his seat. Thankfully, Peter had not lost his seat but had merely jerked backward against the carriage squabs. However, Sebastian was not so fortunate. Once again the unsuspecting feline was hurled through the air and onto the floor, leaving in his wake a shower of yellow fur. There he huddled, his tail twitching back and forth as the carriage came to a halt.

"Oh, dear," said Lily, barely able to breathe or speak from the pressure of Lord Ashton's strong arms about her waist. "Is there another carriage off the road?"

But judging by the agitated shouts of Jem, the coachman, and the string of epithets spewed out by Bob, the groom, the reason for their sudden stop was not nearly so commonplace as a broken carriage wheel. Then Lily heard a strange voice bellow, "Stand and deliver!"

CHAPTER NINE

J
ULIAN QUICKLY RELEASED
Miss Clarke and reached inside his greatcoat pocket. The pistol was there, of course, but he just wanted to reassure himself for a moment that they were not completely defenceless. He would not use the weapon unless it were absolutely necessary. Facing off against several men with short-barreled but deadly blunderbusses with a small pistol as his only weapon of defence would not be at all prudent. But if one of them so much as looked cross-eyed at Miss Clarke, he'd put the fellow to bed with a shovel without the slightest twinge of conscience, whatever might the consequences be! On the other hand, possibly there was only one thief on the road today. So far, he could detect the sound of only a single set of hooves on the frost-hardened ground.

"Highwaymen!" Peter said excitedly.

"Or highwayman," Julian suggested.

"But if there is only one of them, how did he manage to stop the carriage without your man firing any shots?" asked Lily. "It's broad daylight outside, too! He must be quite desperate to attack a guarded coach without cover of darkness!" While Miss Clarke's forehead was faintly creased in a concerned expression, she was maintaining her composure with amazing sang-froid.

"Hush! Our questions will soon be answered," whispered Julian, straining to hear what was going on outside. The carriage rocked gently to and fro. "Jem and Bob have been ordered off the box. I'm sure he's already taken their shotguns away from them."

Now a gruff voice was heard to say, "Over there by the tree, and nothin' 'avey-cavey or I'll use these 'ere poppers, make no doubt!"

"Why don't we storm 'em?" Peter proposed enthusiastically. Then, as if he'd suddenly remembered that he had barely the strength to walk, much less to storm somebody, he looked chagrined and said mournfully, "Stupid idea! Forgot I was such a weakling!"

"It wouldn't serve, anyway," said Julian consideringly. "Though it irks me to let the fellow get away with this robbery, it will be better to cooperate with him than to endanger Miss Clarke. If he offers no violence, neither shall we. Now he'll order us to vacate the carriage."

True to Julian's predictions, presently the voice was directed towards them. "You swells in th' carriage, one at a time, out you go! And if'n you've got a popper on your person, throw it through the window now, 'cause if'n I sees so much as a glimpse o' somethin' what even looks like a shooter, I'll put an 'ole in your 'eart."

Miss Clarke turned to Julian, for the first time seeming rather agitated. "You had better give him the pistol! Surely he'll make you empty your pockets, and when he sees the weapon, he'll shoot you!"

Julian shook his head. "No. Then we'd be completely defenceless. I won't relinquish it."

"Out, I say!" bellowed the highwayman, obviously growing impatient.

Turning to Miss Clarke, Julian whispered, "Stay inside the carriage unless I tell you otherwise,'' then he opened the carriage door and stepped out.

Julian's first view of the robber was rather daunting. Now he understood how the man had single-handedly stopped the carriage. First of all, he must have caught Bob and Jem unawares, then stunned them with his immense size and aimed a shotgun at them before they'd retrieved their wits. The man was built like a mountain! Julian pitied the poor horse required to sit this huge fellow's considerable weight, especially when he observed that the horse appeared underfed.

By Julian's estimation, the man was at least six feet five inches tall and weighed over seventeen stone, most of which was sheer brute muscle. His dark hair and smooth face framed with a beard suggested his age to be no more than Julian's. He had a scarf tied round his head and over his eyes, with two slits to see through. His buckskin breeches and coat were worn and dirty. He had not the dapper appearance of some seasoned thieves, nor had he the confident air. Julian's eyes narrowed. Perhaps the man's bravery in waylaying the carriage by himself could be better described as fool hardiness. Perhaps this highwayman was still inexperienced. This knowledge gave them a bit of an edge.

Julian stepped forward and lifted his hands, saying calmly, "Well, here I am! Now what?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jem and Bob roped to a nearby tree, both of them looking cross as crabs. He tried to ignore his own rising indignation and affixed his gaze unswervingly on the eyes behind the thief's scarf.

The highwayman's own gaze shifted uneasily, as if he were disconcerted by Julian's steady scrutiny. "They's other coves in th' carriage. I don't want no rigs ner flashy 'eroics, you 'ere?" He raised his blunderbuss menacingly, but Julian noticed that his hand shook. The highwayman had Jem's shotgun in his other hand, and Bob's was tucked inside a sort of saddle-bag.

Julian gestured towards the carriage. "There's no one in there besides a young lady and my nephew, who is too ill to move. Let them stay where they are and I'll fetch their valuables for you," he offered with dry cordiality. "Though how you can be such a scoundrel as to crib the ready from a defenceless woman and the man she's nursing because of a wound he suffered at Waterloo, I cannot conceive!"

Through the slightly opened carriage window, Julian heard Miss Clarke's sharp intake of breath. No doubt she thought he'd gone completely noddy, baiting the fellow so.

"Times is 'ard fer everybody," growled the dick turpin. " 'Specially for th' poor fellows what fought inth'war!"

Suddenly Julian noticed the man's boots. They were military issue. This highwayman had fought for King and Country as well. Was he, like so many of the returning enlisted men, unable to feed himself and his family with honest, paying employment?

"Yes, times are hard," Julian agreed. "As I said, my nephew, Peter, here, was wounded at Waterloo. But do you know why he's so ill now?"

The highwayman gave a frustrated grunt and scanned the area for intruders with a sharp swivel of his head. "I'm sorry for yer nephew, but I can't stand about 'ere all day listenin' t'you pitchin' me gammon! How should I know what you're tellin' me is the truth? And it don't make no difference, anyhow!"

"Doesn't it?" Julian challenged. "After Peter recovered enough to cross the channel to Dover, as he awaited transportation home he was set upon by a footpad, hit over the head and relieved of all his blunt and all his clothing, as well. He was left to freeze and die by the roadside. Quite a hero's welcome, wasn't it?"

The man's sneer wavered. He looked nonplussed momentarily, then rallied his defences, saying, "I ain't the villain what made your nephew nearly slip 'is wind! I don't want to 'urt no one. I jest want your valuables and with no more gabble-grindin'!'' During this speech, the highwayman had become increasingly perturbed, jerking his shooters about like an escapee from Bedlam. His skinny horse whinnied and tossed its head restlessly.

Julian had tried to reason with the man, but to no avail. He was resigned to losing his money and his watchfob, but was seriously displeased with the notion of giving up his signet ring. He thought of the pistol in his pocket and briefly considered retrieving it, but the idea of risking Miss Clarke's or Peter's life over the loss of a paltry piece of jewelry, despite its sentimental significance, was unthinkable.

Julian began to pull off his ring. Might as well do the most painful thing first.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, what a to-do!"

Julian jerked round and discovered Miss Clarke stepping out of the carriage, with Peter trying to grasp her arm as he exclaimed incoherent words of protest and frustration. "Do quit grabbing, Peter, for you won't stop me!" she advised him at last, gently twisting her wrist out of his weak grip, then firmly closing the door behind her. Peter pressed his nose against the window glass, staring out with an agonized and apologetic expression. Lily paid him no heed, straightened up, tucked a stray wisp of hair under her plain poke bonnet, and placed her fists on her hips.

"Miss Clarke," Julian began ominously, his in-sides twisting with trepidation for the danger the foolish girl was exposing herself to unnecessarily. "I told you to stay in the carriage!"

"Well, I don't have to do everything you tell me, do I?" she countered irascibly. "I'm not your wife or your sister, or anything of the sort! I'm an unmarried woman with a mind of my own! And when I perceived that you'd given up on this fellow, I found I could not sit still another moment! Why, you had almost convinced him!"

"Lily!" Julian ground out. "Go back to the carriage before I—"

Miss Clarke raised her chin haughtily. "Who gave you permission to use my Christian name, Lord Ash-ton? And why do you suppose I should do
as you
tell me and scamper back into the carriage, when
this
gentleman—the one holding a weapon, I might add— has asked that I step outside? I'm only doing what I deem as most prudent!"

"She's a right one, my lord," said the highwayman approvingly, staring at Miss Clarke with a rather bemused expression. "She knows it ain't polite-like t'jaw away the whole mornin' and waste a fella's time. Now, girly, take his lordship's valuables and bring 'em here!"

Once again the delicate chin lifted haughtily. "I will
not!"

"Miss Clarke!" Julian lamented, kneading his forehead with agitated fingers. "You're not dealing with an innkeep who likes to abuse cats here! The man has a shotgun, for the love of heaven!"

"And I'm not afeared fuse it!" warned the bounder with hopeful bravado, as if he felt he was losing control of the situation—which, indeed, he was.

"I don't believe you for a minute," Miss Clarke informed him with flashing eyes. "You're not the sort of man to shoot a defenceless person. You said just a moment ago that you didn't want to hurt anyone! You were a soldier, weren't you, sir?"

"So what if I was?" he said bitterly. "What good did it do me?"

"It taught you how very precious life is, didn't it? After dodging bullets yourself and seeing your compatriots die, you must realize how very important it is to preserve life, not take it senselessly!"

"What's senseless is me wife and four chil'ren goin' without the necessaries, when I've the back and the willt'work'ard!"

"If that's the case, why haven't you found employment?" Lord Ashton enquired, unobtrusively placing himself between the man's line of fire and Miss Clarke.

"You wouldn't understand, your lordship," sneered the highwayman. "You've never 'ad to worry a day in your pretty life, I'll wager. For your 'igh-and-mighty's information, they's no work to be 'ad 'ereabouts. Now shut yer trap, and 'and over the ready!"

"Oh, dear," murmured Miss Clarke, "you are being mulish! And impolite, too! Do you find this sort of work rewarding, Mr… What did you say your name was?"

The highwayman wheezed with laughter, his huge chest heaving beneath his tattered coat. "What do you take me for, miss, a Johnny-raw? I ain't goin' t'tell you my name!"

"Then tell me your story! I assure you, sir, I'm most interested and deeply stirred by your plight. You haven't been doing this sort of thing very long, have you?"

"Don't insult him, my dear," advised Julian, as he noticed the highwayman stiffen. This whole incident was fast taking on the unreal qualities of a dream. Who ever imagined that the fellow would have been deterred this long from his evil-doing by a slip of a chit's well-intended moralizing? But deter him she had, and perhaps he wasn't even offended by her intimation that he was a novice at dodgey activities.

"This is the first time I've held up a coach," confessed the highwayman at last, after a reflective pause of several moments.

"I thought as much," said Miss Clarke with satisfaction. "Now
do,
if you please, put down your shotguns! I dislike looking into those black barrels worse than anything!"

The highwayman sat up straighter, and lifted and aimed one of the guns—straight at Julian's heart. "I ain't no fool! I ain't goin' to give m'self up to the 'ands of the law and find m'self strung up at t'gallows!"