Suzanne Allain - Incognito

After a stretch of time that seemed interminable to him, but was probably only about fifteen minutes, he heard some noises and knew they were just ahead. Emily had impeded the man’s progress quite a bit, and Alexander could hear him warning her to hurry.

“I should’ve left you back there, and if I wasn’t such a fool for the ladies, I would’ve. But you seemed such a nice cozy armful, it seemed a shame to leave you behind for those clumsy oafs.”

Emily, gagged as she was, said nothing in reply. She felt as though she had stumbled into a horrible nightmare and could not believe it was all really happening. The blow to her head had left her a little dazed, as well, which also contributed to her sense of unreality. She stumbled along the narrow tunnel as best she could, which was made even more difficult by the fact that her hands were tied behind her back. Again and again she cursed her stupidity in venturing alone into an area known to be frequented by a highwayman. Her wretched suspicions of Alexander had led her into such a dangerous situation, and she wondered how she could have ever believed him guilty of such a thing. She wished she could go back in time to that morning, where she would give a very different answer to his question, thereby avoiding the situation she now found herself in.

She refused to think of what this man had in store for her and concentrated on the hope that Alexander and Marcus would somehow catch up with them. She prayed that they had been the ones who had chased them into this tunnel.

She did not know whether to be relieved or terrified when they finally reached their destination. She had begun to feel she would go insane if they had stayed in the dark and musty tunnel a moment longer. Being gagged with one’s hands tied was unpleasant enough, but being in a narrow, short space on top of it contributed to her feeling of suffocation, until she felt that something inside her was about to explode. Before this could happen, however, the highwayman had untied her hands and was pushing her up, out of the tunnel.

“Pull yourself up by your hands,” he told her. She obeyed eagerly, but until the highwayman also came out of the tunnel and lit a lamp, she had no idea if her present situation was any better than the one she had just left. When the lamp was lit, she saw she was in a small chamber of some kind. She looked around for a door, but the room did not appear to possess doors or windows. There was a bed, a table with one chair, and a chest. She looked with interest at the highwayman, as well, who had joined her in the small room. This was the first time she had seen his face since he had abducted her. He looked to be about thirty-five, with dark hair and eyes. He was not horribly disfigured in any way, and was probably considered by many to be handsome. Emily, however, viewed his appearance with dislike, thinking how wrong the reports were that labeled him a gentleman. The highwayman told her to sit down, and she sat down at the table, wondering if she dare undo her gag now that her hands were free. Before she had time to act on the thought, the highwayman removed it for her.

“You can scream all you want now, my girl. There’s not anyone who will hear you, and if they did, they would not be able to find you.”

“Where are we?” she asked, although she scarcely recognized her voice for her own.

“Welcome to the Tudor Arms,” he said, with a flourish. He laughed as she looked around her in confusion. “We’re in a small room that adjoins the basement. It was used by the Hawkhurst Gang sixty or seventy years ago. It is generally known that the tunnels exist, and even that they used to lead to the Tudor Arms, but no one other than I has seen the inside of this room for sixty years. There’s another tunnel that leads out of here, much shorter than the one we took in.” He gestured to the wall opposite, and Emily saw what looked like a hole in the wall. “It leads to the stables. Very convenient for me, as I leave my horse stabled there.” To Emily’s dismay, he stopped talking and approached the table where she sat, holding the lamp up to her face. “Let’s see how I made out this evening.” Emily set in silence, petrified, as he studied her face. “I’d say I have got quite a jewel here, and I didn’t even have to rob a carriage.” He laughed at his little joke, and Emily found the courage to speak.

“Sir, I am related to the nobility. It will fare badly for you if you kidnap me. We have a duke in residence at our home as I speak. And his son, a marquess, is my betrothed. They would be quite concerned if anything happened to me,” Emily warned, heedless of the truth. She would have said she was married to the Prince Regent if she thought that would have deterred him.

The highwayman just laughed at her threats. “You think to scare me with a duke and marquess, do you? I lost my fear of the nobility long ago. My father was agent at a grand estate, and I have a fine lord in my pocket.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked, although she was really not interested. However, she figured if she kept him talking, he would not touch her.

Alexander, on the other hand, was very interested. He was still in the tunnel, waiting for a good opportunity to come out. He crouched just below the exit, where the light could not touch him, and listened carefully.

“I mean that a certain lord supplies me with details of when particular information is to be carried, by whom it is to be carried, and what route they are to take. I obtain this information for him, and, in return, he rewards me handsomely.”

“To whom do you refer?” Emily asked, a little curious by this point, but mostly to keep him talking. The highwayman looked at Emily for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to share such a secret, and then shrugged. “I suppose it will do no harm to tell you, and as fond of titles as you are, you may be acquainted. Lord Cecil Burke, youngest son of the earl of Kilburne.”

Emily thought for a moment, as she did not recognize the name at first. “Of course, Lord Cecil,” she said, as she recollected him. “He’s a cousin or nephew, a connection at least, of Lord Abernathy. But I do not understand. What information is it that he desires to obtain?”

The highwayman smiled. “I am glad you are stupid, my little ladybird. I detest any sign of intelligence in females. Let me break it down for you. We are presently at war, and one side will always pay a great deal to know what the other side is doing. Lord Cecil, for want of ready cash, makes the information available to the other side.”

“With your assistance. You are despicable. A filthy traitor.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately many in England share your sentiments, which is why I have decided on a change of climate. I have enough money to live quite comfortably in France the rest of my days, and, while you may view me as a traitor, they must, of course, view me differently. I had decided to leave tonight, but I really did not fancy speaking French the rest of my life. Your arrival upon the scene was quite fortuitous; I will have a little bit of England to take with me, as well as someone to warm my bed at night.”

It was all Alexander could do to restrain himself from leaping out of his hiding place, particularly when he heard sounds of a struggle. Just as he was preparing to exit, he heard a slap and Emily’s voice. “You swine,” she said.

“Call me Jack,” he said, rubbing his cheek where she had slapped him. “If I wasn’t fond of a bit of a tussle, you’d have your hands tied up again, my girl. Now then, before we get to know each other better, I have a little chore for you.” Jack went over to the chest and opened it, removing a piece of paper and a pen. “You are to write your parents, or whoever you think may be concerned about you, and tell them that you have run away with your secret lover, the son of an estate agent. If I know the nobility, they will write you off with barely a sigh of regret.”

“You cannot make me write such a thing,” Emily protested.

“Oh, can’t I? How would you fancy a bruise on your other cheek, to match this one?” he asked, touching the spot where he’d hit her earlier. “You will write whatever I say, or pay the consequences.”

Emily took the paper and pen and began writing. Alexander removed his pistol from his coat pocket, as he had heard all he needed to, and it did not appear Marcus was going to come to his assistance. He heard the highwayman tell Emily that she needn’t write a book, that he had other plans for the night, and Alexander cocked his pistol. When he heard sounds of a scuffle, and Emily’s cries of distress, he scrambled out of the tunnel as quickly as possible.

The highwayman did not even notice him, so intent was he on Emily. He had his arms around her and was pressing his lips to her neck, and the expression of revulsion and fear on Emily’s face was something Alexander felt would live in his memory long after that night was over. He stepped up behind the man and shoved the pistol into his back. “Let go of her, and put your hands up where I can see them.”

The highwayman obeyed, and just as Alexander was checking his pockets for weapons, they were all distracted by a very loud banging noise, before the wall of the room came crashing in on them.

Marcus had rushed to the Tudor Arms, where he had asked to speak to the landlord of the establishment. The landlord was helpful enough, and agreed that it was common knowledge that the Hawkhurst Gang had used a tunnel that was supposed to end at his establishment, but he had never seen any evidence of such a tunnel.

“Believe me, your honor, if there was such a thing, I would know it. Know every square inch of this place, I do.”