It was muffled, but she could make out their voices.
She pressed harder against the floor. There was laughter, a few words said with a deep voice, and then Bess; her voice was clear, if not the words. Evelyn sat up frustrated.
After spending half the night on the uncomfortable, rickety bed in the cold farmhouse, the wind howling through the gap in the shutters, Evelyn had been ready to make a run for it.
But even if she made it out the window, she had no idea of where to go, or what to do next, and every time she looked at that great oak, she could hear Bess's voice repeating: ‘they'll hang me'.
Evelyn had spent the last few hours pinned to the floor, using a tankard as a rudimentary ear trumpet, trying to pick out the conversation in the room below. It took patience, and an unearthly stillness, just to make a few scattered words.
“Do _ _ _be round _ long?” Bess's voice was clear above the others
“Won't _ _ holding out _ _ the money _ Barrington !”
There was laughter. Evelyn's heart was beating fast, it had sounded like ‘ Barrington '. But she couldn't be sure.
“William _ _ white heart_ to?”
She was sure she'd heard ‘William' this time. ‘It must be him!' she thought.
Over the next few hours she listened; desperately trying to pick out the word ‘William' again, but she started to wonder if she'd ever heard it all, and yet… the word ‘William', so close to ‘Barrington' and ‘money'; she was sure there must be a connection.
‘Of course he'll come after me, of course he will'. He hadn't just agreed to marry Evelyn, he'd agreed to the house, to run the estate, to take care of her father's investments in Bristol ; if nothing else, it was good business to come after her. At least that's what she told herself.
She heard footsteps on the stairs. She stood, quickly replacing the cup, and brushing down her skirts; before seating herself in the chair by the fire, just as the door opened.
“You're up.” Said Bess, she was carrying a plate of food, and a jug “I hope you didn't have too bad a night.”
“As well as can be expected.” She replied.
“How do you feel?”
“Oh fine, fine! Nothing a walk in the garden wouldn't cure.”
Bess smiled “I know” she said, putting down the food on the table “I'm trying to get you out of here.” She leant down to the fire, it was starting to fade and she threw on another log. “But I have to go away, just for a day or so.”
“What?! Where?”
“Just away, Charlie has promised he'll look in on you—”
“And what? Throw me scraps of food from the table? I'm not a spaniel!”
Bess ignore her outburst “He's promised he'll look in on you, and I …haven't… exactly mentioned that I've untied you.”
“Well mention it!”
“Actually, I was thinking of tying you back up.”
“What!? No! I'm not a plaything!, I can't be left tied up; how will I move? How will I eat? You can't leave me defenceless and at the mercy of four men!”
“Three men.”
“Oh! Three men! Well that's perfectly acceptable!”
“You won't be tied up” Bess leaned forward, and placed a hand on Evelyn's knee, looking up at her “We can make it look as though you're tied, but you will be able to remove and replace the binds at will. Trust me Evelyn.”
Evelyn looked down in the eyes of the highwaywoman, and let out a sigh. “I do trust you. I do.”
She took hold of Bess's hand, and she seemed to take comfort in Evelyn's reassurance. She stood, and as she did so she placed a kiss on Evelyn's forehead.
“Right well I'd better make this look good.” She took hold of the rope that had been cast aside the night before, and started to wrap it around Evelyn's arms. Rather than trying the rope, Evelyn took hold of the loose ends in her hands. “Well that will have to do.” Bess said, standing back to look at the effect.
“When are you leaving?” Evelyn found herself reluctant to say goodbye, and she wondered if she was a fool for being so drawn to this girl.
“Today. Probably in an hour or so, but I won't come up to say goodbye… the others would think it odd.”
They looked at one another, standing limply in the darkened room; the highwaywoman and her prisoner, reluctant at their parting. Bess inched forward slightly, Evelyn let the rope drop to the floor, and clasped the girl in her arms. She decided that it would be the last time she would see Bess: if she was leaving the house for a few days, there was no chance that the men downstairs could accuse her of setting Evelyn free. She hoped they wouldn't go after her highwaywoman, the girl she'd been willing, if only for a few hours, to give up her life for.
“I will be back in a couple of days.” Bess pulled away from the embrace, and took Evelyn by the shoulders, looking into her eyes “And I promise that I will do everything I can to set you free”, Evelyn nodded, and with that Bess turned and left, taking care, for the last time, to turn the key in the lock.
Once alone Evelyn took her seat by the fire, and stared into the flames. She decided she would have to leave her captors that night. She cast her mind back to the conversation she'd overhead. She struggled to remember, but she was sure she'd heard ‘ Barrington ', ‘William', and ‘money'. She felt it safe to assume that the words ‘holding' and ‘waiting' referred to William waiting with the money. But then why didn't they let her go? Maybe he was trying to negotiate, but how? Where was he?
She shook off thoughts of William, it was no good to hope for a reunion: the only logical course of action was to find a house, or maybe a village, where she could explain her situation, and call out the night watchmen.
So, all she had to do was wait.
***
The house was quiet. She'd opened the shutter several times throughout the day, mainly to have some idea of the time, but also for something to keep her occupied. Despite Bess's reassurances that someone would come to her, no one had, and she was thankful for the few bits of food that Bess had left. The last time she'd checked the window it had been dusk, and that seemed like hours ago. There was still voices and laughter downstairs; she wondered just how long she would have to wait.
Part of her didn't want to go at all; she felt it would be easier, and less risky to do nothing. Bess had promised to ensure that Evelyn was set free; so she thought about just waiting for her to come back.
But Evelyn still wasn't sure if she could trust Bess, and even if she could, even if she did believe the sincerity in those beautiful, dark eyes; Bess was still being controlled by these men, she was still frightened of them, and was unable to overthrow that control.
“It'll have to be the window” she said to herself.
She tried to rationalise, and create a plan. If she could plan her journey, step by step, as she did with any journey, then the idea of escaping wasn't so daunting. The men sitting downstairs with their muskets and pistols weren't so intimidating, and the pure blackness of the night, and miles of wilderness could be overcome.
She stared into the fire, its warmth pressed into her. ‘Not long now' she thought.
She realised that the sounds from downstairs had stopped. Everything was still. She grabbed hold of the tankard, and pressed herself against the floor. Listening.
There were no murmurs of quiet voices conversing late into the night, nor the sound of plates and cutlery as someone ate or cooked, or placed a drink on the table.
She kept listening. But there was nothing. She sighed, and sat in the middle of the floor. She knew there was no excuse now; no reason to stay any longer, and every reason to leave this God forsaken house.
She stepped carefully over to the window, opening the shutter and gently placing it against the wall, to save it from banging. The moon was full and high again, she felt glad for the hollow light, and knew that without it there would be little hope for an escape. She slid open the window, lifting up the lower pane, and slipped out on to the sill. She sat in the cold wind staring down at the ground. It had seemed so much closer the night before.
‘It's too far' she thought. She felt dizzy, and gripped the edge of the sill. She decided to turn and lower herself down to the ground. The edge of the sill was narrow; it had not been built with this behaviour in mind. Awkwardly, she twisted on the sill, grabbing hold of the window frame to stabilise herself, her feet flailed out wildly, as she wriggled ungracefully onto her front.
She gave the room a last glance; for just one brief moment, she saw the fire burning slowly in the grate, the peeling wall paper, and scattered candles, then she lowered herself to hang from the window.
Gripping tightly with both hands; for a few seconds she stayed there, unable to pull herself back up, and unwilling to let go.
Her fingers were slipping, and began to hurt; she looked down, and quickly looked back up again.
“Oh God!” she cried, and dropped.
***
Evelyn started up at the stars. She was stunned and winded, and her ankle hurt. She wondered if she should have taken her shoes off before clambering out the window. Falling to the ground in heeled boots had not been her finest moment. She found herself hoping that no-one had seen her fall; less so for the fear of being caught and more so for the ungainly manner in which she'd hit the ground.
She forced herself up onto her feet; her first instinct was to head straight for the valley she'd seen from her window, but she decided to walk round to the front of the house, and see if there was a road. Taking a road was risky, but she would be able to get further, faster.
She edged around the corner of the building, keeping her back to the wall as she crept along; she saw a few bats flying about, but other than that, the world was silent, and the night was clear. She came to the corner, and peered round to the front of the house; there was cobbled yard surrounded by outbuildings.
There was a path leading away from they yard, running between two fields and stopping abruptly at a hedgerow – it was difficult to see much more, but she knew that must be where it joined up with the main road.Howeve, she couldn't just walk boldly across the cobbles in her heels; she would have to go behind one of the outbuildings, and make her way across the field instead.
She took one last look around, and left the comfort of the shadows, skirting the cobbles, towards an old barn. She put her back against the wall as soon as she reached it, and from her new vantage point she could see the front of the house clearly, but if anyone so much as glanced out of a window, they would see her. She urged herself to move, edging along the wall towards the far corner of the barn, keeping both eyes on the empty black windows of the house. As soon as she slipped round the far side of the building, she was out of sight, and let out the breath she'd been holding.
There was no path running behind the barn, she was standing in freshly overturned soil, which was already clinging to her boots. She wasn't brave enough to go back into view of the house, and so, leaning on the wall of the barn for support, she started to walk towards the road.
With each stride she collected more and more mud, it encased her boots; she'd hoisted up her skirts, and as each foot became heavier she swung it forward, using its weight to cast her stride further. By the time she reached halfway, she was exhausted, and took a moment to catch her breath.
She was cold and tired and her boots were ruined.
“How did I get here?” she said to herself and started to laugh. It had been barely a week since she had attended one of the finest balls in Cambridge, held partly in her honour, she been seen sporting the latest fashion, and heard that Lady Huxley herself had been practically inconsolable with jealousy at the sight of her Parisian lace. Now she was standing, ankle deep in mud, in a field, in the dark, with her skirts hoisted above her knees.
‘Pull yourself together woman!' she thought, and shook the mud off her boots. She sighed and started her journey again, by the time she reached the corner on the far side of the barn, she had to rest again. Having travelled the long way around the back of the outbuilding she had now reached the far edge of the courtyard, where it met up with the mud track. She was still close enough to the house to be seen, but it wasn't far to the end of the track, and as soon as she was on the road, the high hedge rows either side would protect her from view.
Giving the house a cursory glance, she took a breath, and made a run for it. For a few seconds she felt as if she was in a dream, a dream where no matter how far you travel you never move. But then she was at the hedgerow, and out onto the road.
She looked both ways along the road, neither way looked appealing, she looked around the hedge and back up at the house. It stood, staring back at her with its cold black eyes, eight of them, ‘like a spider' she shivered, and concentrated on the roads.
She remembered, vividly, the day before, when she had been walking with Bess, she'd seen a hamlet in the valley. The left path was veering downhill. She had no way of telling east from west, she knew the moon was no help, and as for stars; she knew the north star was in the north, but then surely she had to know which way was north in order to know which was the north star. She dismissed thoughts of stars and moons, and headed down hill. ‘There must be someone somewhere' and even if she was wrong about the hamlet in the valley, at least it was easier to walk down hill.
***
It was dark, and cold. Occasionally a cloud would drift across the moon, and the world would be plunged into blackness; a black so thick and absolute that Evelyn wondered if she would ever see again. But the moment would pass, and gradually the moon would, once again, bestow on her its hollow silver glow.
Evelyn felt quite pleased with herself as she wandered down that lonely path. She had managed to escape her captors. She! She'd been severely underestimated by those fools, she imagined their faces, if they troubled themselves to check on her, and giggled to herself. She pictured them running around the house, and across the fields trying to track her down, wondering how she'd managed to get loose.
Then she realised that they would know Bess had set her free. No one had come to check on her. No one had seen her tied in fake knots. No one would even know if she had been in the house that day.
Evelyn turned; she looked back up the dark road. It wound its way up the hill and turned off into the trees. She thought about going back. She wondered if she should. If she could.
“I promise that I will do everything I can to set you free” Bess's words flitted across her mind. She took a step forward. She looked behind her, back down the hill. She didn't know what was down there. Surely it was far safer to go back, back to the little room with the fire. It wasn't as if they had hurt her; well apart from the hit with the musket, and the slap, and the binds, and the neglect. Evelyn started pace on the spot, dancing in frustration. She was too tired to think. Too cold to weigh-up right and wrong, how could she possibly make an ethical decision based solely—
BANG!
Evelyn stopped dead. She was sure it was a bang, clear on the cold night air. She listened, unsure which direction it had come from. Whether she'd imagined it.
She heard a shout, a yell. A loud booming yell, definitely a man, definitely angry.
She stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds. She looked to either side or the road, could she hide? Could she scramble into the hedgerow, would they go past her?
There was another yell.
She decided to run.
She picked up her skirts, and fled downhill. Her feet were light on the downward slope, she struggled to keep her balance, nearly slipping several times. She could hear further shouts in the distance, and another bang followed a few moments later.
She was struggling with the weight of her skirts, and despite the adrenaline, it wasn't long before she was forced to stop.
She had a pain in her side, and tried to keep breathing, but her chest was heavy and she doubled over coughing. She crouched in the middle of the road, trying to force the breath back into her chest.
She could no longer hear the shouting. Part of her hoped they'd stopped looking. But with horrible realisation, it dawned on her.
They'd split up.
With two roads, and three men, she knew that at least one of them was running toward her. She just prayed that it wasn't the one with the loaded gun.
‘Why did I run?'
With the pain in her side, and her ankles still painful from the fall, she stood and carried on down the hill. Every so often the clouds would once again pass in front of the moon, and the blackness would envelop her. She kept running.
The hill petered out, and she jogged along, before coming to a stop at crossing. Another road headed back upward to her right, the other kept straight ahead. She knew it would be wise to go up the hill – they would be unlikely to follow her. But that was only if one person had come after, perhaps two, or even three had followed her down this path.
She ignored the turn off, and followed the road she was on. If there was a village it was likely to be in the valley, perhaps even around the next corner.
She was becoming more and more tired the further she went on, and eventually she decided that she would have to hide; the next time she saw a break in the hedge she would have to go through it and just stay there. With that in mind she felt more determined, and her stride became stronger. She spotted a tree up ahead, and as she got closer she saw that there was a break in the hedge; a path had been beaten in the earth leading up to the trunk, and there was a clear gap. She reached forward, grabbing a branch, and pulling herself up the steep path, onto the ridge.
She looked out into the field beyond, it hadn't yet been harvested, and the shadows of the plants, like a black ocean of snakes, stretched out before her. Just beyond the field, further across the valley, and standing proudly in the dark, was a church spire.
She quietly thanked God; sanctuary was less than a mile away. She considered going back onto the road, which must lead into the village. But she knew that the short cut across the field would help her evade her captors. She jumped down off the ridge; the ground here was far more solid that the freshly turned earth she'd had to combat earlier, and as soon as she was on the other side of the hedge, she felt as though she could relax slightly.
She followed a well trodden path around the edge of the field, it led her over a style, and into in a small wooded area. Beyond it she could see a few scattered buildings, and knew she was just a few feet from civilisation. But clear on the night air she could once again here shouts and cries. Many more voices this time.
‘Could they have gathered a search party?' She considered that the gang had managed to convince the locals that she was a mad woman in need of restraint, or a felon that had to be caught. Or worse, perhaps the locals were felons themselves, and the village was run by vagabonds.
She crept slowly through the woods, and as she did so, she realised that the shouting was definitely coming from the village. But there was music as well, and although it was difficult to hear, she was sure that the voices were singing, and not shouting at all.
She stood in the darkness, hesitant for a few more moments, considering her options.
‘Well I've come this far' she thought, and headed out on to the road.
She cautiously followed the noise, the path opened out into the village; there were a few scattered houses, and a small row of cottages. A lot of the windows were lit, and she wondered what time it actually was.
The singing seemed to be coming from a large house, it was on the other side of a small stream running through the village green. The windows were lit up, and she could just about make out the sign; a large painting of a white deer.
She stared at it, she knew she could go in, she could explain her situation, she may even be able to get hold of the night watch. But the sign above the door stopped her in her tracks.
“White Hart” she muttered. ‘Why is that familiar?' She remembered the conversation she'd overheard. ‘This' she thought to herself ‘must be what they were talking about' .
She ran towards it, crossing the small bridge over the stream, barely pausing for breath, before bursting through the door of the White Hart pub.
The room was filled with smoke from pipes, the piano was still going, and the chorus of a song was reaching its climax. Despite her sudden entrance and remarkable appearance, she was barely noticed by the rowdy crowd. She rushed to the bar and caught the attention of the man standing behind it; arms folded watching the singers with faint amusement.
“Do you have a Mr William Barrington here?” she shouted above the noise. He seemed a little startled, and leaned towards her, she repeated her question.
“Mr Barrington, is he here?” He shook his head, and pointed to his ear. “William? Is William Barrington staying here?” The barman nodded, said something she didn't catch, and pointed to the ceiling. “Second!” He shouted “Second on the left!”
As soon as she caught the words; she was gone, running up the stairs. She thought he might have shouted after her, but she didn't care. She would look in every room in the building if she had to. She knew he was here, she knew he'd come.
Second on the left he'd said, and there it was; a small, wooden door. Her door back to freedom, her door out of the mad world she'd been living in the past few days, back to Abberton, back to her garden, back to her father. She didn't even mind the prospect of getting back in a coach.
She grabbed the handle, and took a breath. “Please let it be him” she said, and opened it.
William was there, he was sat at a table; a piece of bread raised to his mouth, he froze as he caught sight of Evelyn. He was everything she remembered, the smart dress, the deep brown eyes, the mop of black hair, carefully combed into a fashionable quif. Her stomach flipped, she couldn't believe her good luck, the remarkable fortune that had led her to his door; she wanted to yell and scream and shout his name—
“Billy, you couldn't help me with this corset could you, I'm having a hell of time getting it tight.” The words broke Evelyn's trance, she looked across as the speaker came through from an adjoining room. Dressed in flowing skirts, with bare arms and her long, dark hair loose about her shoulders; Bess took a moment to register that Evelyn was standing at the door.
To be continued in Chapter 5….