Rebeccah and the Highwayman

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Kate took a calming breath and clamped down on her need to ravish the young woman there and then. While Rebeccah pretended to explore Kate's garret — what little there was of it could be discovered in seconds — Kate flung herself down on the bed, laced her hands behind her head, and let her gaze dwell pleasantly on the curves filling out Rebeccah's dress. She came back to her surroundings with a start and became aware that Rebeccah was looking at her.

Blinking, she replayed the question. The advertisement ran as expected. And your footman, Will. Your mother has agreed to lend him to me for a few hours. They need only to know the sharp end of a sword from its hilt. They are there to hold our coats, mop our brows, bandage our cuts, keep the stage clear of anything that might impede us She reached out and grasped Rebeccah's hand. For any cuts we take will be slight at best as both Berrigan and I will be using the flats of our blades and pulling our strokes. It is only an exhibition of skill, after all.

It was as high as her chin and had no railing. The chaplain grinned and indicated the noisy rabble in the front seats. Either way, we'd end up sore. Some spectators were clearly drunk, others belligerent. Some were squabbling and hitting each other, trying to place bets or get better seats. A few were trying to scale the scaffolding that supported the gallery, their efforts to climb into the more expensive seats met with catcalls and unsavoury missiles from the gallants ensconced there. Kate was relieved Rebeccah had not come to watch, though she had taken some convincing and given in with bad grace, saying rather sulkily that she would visit her sister instead.

The servant, who had been looking about him with a faintly horrified air, pulled out the pocket watch she had given him for safe keeping. She handed Walter her tricorne, and pulled her baldric over her head, so she could remove her coat. It was a cool day for only a shirt, breeches, and boots, but she would soon work up a sweat.

Once the servant had relieved her of the coat, she unsheathed her rapier and handed him the baldric. Berrigan, meanwhile, had handed their other second, Will the footman, his hat, and was reverently undoing the catches of the rectangular wooden case he had cradled protectively all the way from Soho Square.

Cushioned inside it, in an elaborately tooled scabbard, was his swept-hilt rapier, made of the finest Toledo steel, and every time Kate saw the magnificent weapon she felt a pang of envy.

She sighed, raised her own more mundane rapier, and made a few practice passes with it, then threw it onto the platform and leaped up nimbly after it. The crowd noticed her at once and catcalls and shouts greeted her. Bears in sedan chairs? Berrigan's cassock hampered him, and it was only with Walter and Will's help that he succeeded in clambering up onto the platform. Amazed cries met his appearance. Give me my money back. Their expressions solemn, standing side by side, they bowed to each section of the crowd in turn, raising a hand in acknowledgment of the more polite and encouraging exhortations.

When they had finished, Berrigan turned to face Kate, raised his rapier in a salute, and assumed the on guard position.

Rebeccah and the Highwayman by Barbara Davies

She did the same. As they held one another's gazes and began to circle, searching for an opening, the crowd noise faded to a less distracting level. Kate's lips curled into a reflexive snarl. An answering and very unchristian gleam appeared in the chaplain's eye. Mentally she licked her lips at the prospect of a good scrap. She adjusted her stance until she was poised over the balls of her feet, and beckoned.

She dabbed her kerchief to her eyebrow and examined it. The bleeding had stopped, thank heavens. The cut looked far worse than it was or than her bloody shirt, visible beneath her open coat, would indicate. He looked every bit as disreputable as she did. He had a pronounced limp, and his left eye had almost swollen shut. The hem of his cassock had come unstitched and threatened to trip him at every other step.

Kate grinned at him and shifted her baldric into a more comfortable position. What they will think when their chaplain appears tomorrow in your condition? For it was your blood I slipped in. A spectator had broken his fall, sparing him worse injury. Unfortunately, that selfsame spectator had taken exception to being used in such a fashion, hence Berrigan's black eye.

In fact it was their coin that brought our bout to its untimely close. Kate produced the culprit from her coat pocket and flourished it. The turn off to Soho Square lay just up ahead. She slowed and glanced back to where Will and Walter were walking, heads together in animated conversation. They had become fast friends over the course of the afternoon. She waited for them to catch up, then addressed the Dutton family's footman. Thank you for your services this afternoon. You may return to St. James's Square with a clear conscience and my thanks.

The footman led Rebeccah upstairs, opened the door, bowed, and waited for her to enter. She went through into what was obviously the drawing room, and spied her sister sitting at the spinet by the window. Anne smiled and waved, and Rebeccah was about to return her greeting when something brown-and-white made a dash for her.

She flinched as the spaniel bitch, for such it was, seized her right shoe and began to worry it.

See a Problem?

Its low growl unnerved her until she saw the furiously wagging tail. Queenie didn't look in the remotest bit chastened, and her tail wagged as she gazed up at her mistress. Anne sighed, rolled her eyes, and pointed to the basket that lay close to the hearth. Queenie hesitated, and Rebeccah braced herself for a resumption of the attack, but the spaniel trotted meekly back to her basket and resumed chewing what had once been one of Anne's slippers.

Has she done much damage? Queenie was Frederick's idea — company for me while he is away — so he cannot carp at any expenses caused by her transgressions. Anne led Rebeccah to an easy chair in front of the fire then, as Rebeccah sat, rang for a servant. While her sister gave orders, Rebeccah glared at Queenie before turning her attention to her surroundings. Everything about Anne's Bond Street house was up-to-the-minute.

There was even wallpaper rather than the wainscoting they had in St. Disgruntlement replaced the complacency. For Mr Edgeworth is teaching him the business of trading. It was a moment before Rebeccah understood her reference. But in this case, Beccah, I was referring to Frederick's mother. It took Papa years to build his company's reputation and she would dispense with it at a stroke?

For Frederick is conscious of its value, and he will not change it. Rebeccah was about to ask her what she meant by that when the door opened and a maid brought in their tea. Conversation became of a necessity inconsequential while the servant poured the tea into expensive china. Anne's wistful demeanour as she enquired about the health of everyone at St. James's Square made Rebeccah wonder if her mother hadn't been right about her sister missing them.

Which would be strange, for she and Anne were kin, true, but different temperaments and attitudes meant they had never really liked one another.

We'll Surprise You

Rebeccah sipped her tea and frowned at Queenie, who was lapping water from a dish. She couldn't help contrasting the spaniel unfavourably with Jane Allen's amiable lurcher. She has decided opinions. Even about things that should not concern her. And she is not backward in expressing them.

She thinks, for example, that I should have children sooner rather than later, for I am not getting any younger. And that I should have two of each at least. I dread to think what state my figure will be in after that. It makes me look foolish in front of the servants. Oh, in private, he agrees she is wrong to carry on this way. He says she means well, and after all, why should she not pass on her experience and advice if it will be of use?

Anne gave a hollow laugh. He spends his time in coffee-houses, and who can blame him when she is waiting there for him? For if he kept her amused and content and occupied , she would not feel the need to meddle in my affairs. I do not feel the need of another. For she has lived in St. James's Square since her marriage, and will surely be loath to leave it. Then there is your future to consider, Beccah. Rebeccah heart raced and her mind whirled. Was this the chance she and Kate had been waiting for? For it would save expenditure, and surely neither Mama nor Frederick could find fault with that.

If she were to let go the house in St. James's Square, where would you live? Anne's eyebrows shot up. In fact she has already saved my life once, Anne. Not to mention our family's honour. Rebeccah let silence speak for her. Her hand shook as she raised her dish of tea to her lips, but gradually it steadied and her pulse slowed. I spoke only out of concern for your welfare, Beccah. If I have offended you, forgive me. Surprised and pleased, Rebeccah acknowledged her sister's capitulation with a smile and a slight inclination of the head.

At length Anne resumed, "But where would you live, Beccah? For Kate occupies one of our garrets, does she not? We would rent somewhere suitable. Kate and I are Rebeccah held her sister's gaze. I do not think I am the marrying kind. It was his considered opinion that no man can ever meet my expectations. But I for one am unwilling to do so," said Rebeccah. And so may Frederick! Rebeccah glanced at the clock. It should be concluded by now.

Is that not where they hold the bear baiting? Rebeccah paced as much as the garret would allow, glancing frequently towards the bed, where a seated Kate was letting Mary examine her eyebrow. Indeed she seemed to find it amusing. Rebeccah resisted an unladylike urge to curse. I have a salve for cuts such as this. Kate's smiled vanished at once. Kate stood up and came over to her. Rebeccah put up only token resistance before acquiescing. The fall shook him and for the next few days he will be limping like an old man. As Kate's mouth explored hers, Rebeccah lost herself in the sensation, her body almost melting with delight.

If kissing Kate is so pleasurable, how will it feel when we—? Strong arms swept her up, and the world shifted and lurched, and when it had steadied again, Kate was sitting on her bed with Rebeccah cradled in her lap. Rebeccah moulded herself to Kate's body, and Kate's arms wrapped her in a tight embrace. She basked in the feeling of warmth and protection and realised that she did indeed feel much better.

For on his marriage, Anne's property became his, you know. A shiver of anticipation ran through Rebeccah as she considered how to broach her news. For Frederick's mother is to be found at Bond Street more often than Anne likes. For there may be a solution to Anne's loneliness that will prove satisfactory to both her and Mama And in the process put Mrs Ingrum's nose out of joint.

Kate beat her to it. Rebeccah laughed and rested a hand against Kate's belly. A knock at the door interrupted them. Rebeccah stood up, smoothed her skirts, and put a respectable distance between them. Mary's head appeared round the door, followed by the rest of her. She was clutching a letter. It has been sitting in the drawing room and no one thought to bring it up. I thought you would not wish to wait until tomorrow to have it.

Kate tore open the letter and read the contents swiftly. Her frown gave way to a pleased smile and she turned to Rebeccah, eyes dancing. It has five chambers and a small patch of ground that might serve Mary for a herb garden. Rebeccah let out a sigh of relief. Enough for us to keep up appearances. Kate nodded and became thoughtful.

For if she is to be our maid, her opinion must be taken into account. Rebeccah's heart was pounding with excitement. It sounds too good to be true. But I doubt it. For Jane Allen is sensible. She will have inspected the place and decided it will suit.

Rebeccah and the Highwayman by Barbara Davies – Inkmarksonemptydreams

A rumble of cartwheels made Kate peer out the window. A horse-drawn cart piled high with tables and chairs, mirrors and bookcases, candlesticks, curtains, and who knew what else that Rebeccah had selected had pulled up in the street outside. Several of their new neighbours were standing in their doorways, gaping at it. They had taken delivery of the beds earlier and she had only finished assembling them half an hour ago. Mary appeared in the kitchen doorway. From the bunch of horsetail clutched in one hand, she had been polishing the pewter. Rebeccah appeared at the top of the stairs, beaming.

It had been Mrs Dutton's idea to furnish their house, which they had leased unfurnished, with items from St. For, as she said, she would have no need of them in Bond Street, where Anne had excitedly insisted on buying everything new for her mother's chamber. Rebeccah could have had more of her family's belongings if she had wished, but they had not the room for it. So with Kate's help, she had settled on necessities and a few items of sentimental value, such as her father's favourite barometer and globe.

Rebeccah had been quite happy about having to choose; Kate suspected her sister would not have been so sanguine. Rebeccah looked at her in surprise. For I made a note of it. As Kate was rapidly learning, Rebeccah had a talent for organisation. Kate pressed Rebeccah's hand. The positioning of everything to Rebeccah and Mary's mutual satisfaction lasted a couple of hours and left Kate with a stubbed toe, a ripped pair of knee breeches, and an aching back.

A bed for her and Rebeccah, a pot to piss in, and an easy chair strong enough to bear their combined weight, situated in front of a roaring fire, were all that Kate required, so she kept out of their sometimes heated discussions. But she had to admit, the results of their deliberations were worth it.

Her chamber now sported curtains, a clothes chest, a chair, a tripod-legged table on which sat a bowl and a very expensive bar of Castile soap, a mirror, and of course the bed, which was large enough for two. For appearances' sake, the chest had only Kate's clothes in it, but Rebeccah was to share the room with her, as the dressing case with its set of ivory combs and brushes indicated. She felt a tingle of anticipation at the prospect of the coming night. Sucking a stinging knuckle — a different knuckle from earlier; manoeuvring furniture up tight stairs was hard on the hands — she turned her attention to the street, where Will and Henry were driving away the empty cart at a much brisker pace than they had arrived.

From downstairs came the sound of the kettle boiling. She would have welcomed something a little stronger but Rebeccah had asked Mary for tea. An urge to sing overtook her and she gave into it, though softly. Movement from the corner of her eyes was followed by an arm slipping round her waist. But even as she spoke, a coach and four was rumbling along the street towards them, and as it drew closer Kate realised she recognised both carriage and driver. She arched an eyebrow at Rebeccah. Robert reined his team to a halt, vaulted down, and opened the door for the carriage's elegantly dressed occupant.

Seconds later came a rap at the front door, and they heard Mary going to answer it. Mrs Dutton was standing in their parlour cum drawing room when Kate and Rebeccah arrived. Her smile encompassed both of them. We were just about to take some tea. Mary curtseyed and disappeared into the adjoining kitchen. Kate took it upon herself to make up the fire with more coals from the scuttle. Rebeccah threw her a grateful look and turned back to her mother. Mrs Dutton smiled and did so. I just wanted to make sure things were proceeding as planned.

For if they are not, you can always spend tonight at St. James's Square, for I am not due to vacate the house until Wednesday. But indeed, we are already quite settled, as you can see. Mrs Dutton's eyes scanned the little room assessingly, before continuing. Though of course I shall miss your company. Mary returned bearing a tea tray.

Rebeccah and the Highwayman

She placed it on the table, set out the crockery, and began to pour. For you have been with our family so long, I have come to think of you almost as a member of it. Mary's expression was a blend of gratitude and disbelief, Kate saw with amusement. That's kind, I'm sure. I shall miss St. James's Square, but I am flattered Mistress Rebeccah wants me with her.

And besides," she added, scrupulously honest as always, "the duties promise to be more varied here. But her duties will not be arduous. For the house comprises but five rooms, and Kate and I will be busy at the Academy during the week. That made Rebeccah frown. For with Mary's help, I wish to put into practice my lessons from Mrs Priest's boarding school. After all, cooking can not be so difficult, can it? Candles flickered in their holders, a fire crackled in the hearth, and on the little table next to Kate lay dirty supper plates and the clay pipe she had smoked earlier. My own drawing room.

And my lover in my lap. What more could I ask for? She gave a contented sigh, stroked Rebeccah's hair, then let her hand drop and dangle by her side. But she made no move to get up and take the other chair. Kate adjusted her arm around Rebeccah's waist and considered the gleam in Mary's eyes when she had hurried away. Rebeccah twisted round to look at her. After a moment's thought, Rebeccah shook her head. It was a gold wedding band. Kate had taken the measurements from the garnet signet ring that Rebeccah always wore and that had once belonged to Rebeccah's father.

The band had been expensive, but not as much as it might have been, for Kate still had useful contacts from her days as a highwayman. To her relief, it fit perfectly. Words failed Rebeccah, and for a moment she could do little except gape alternately at the ring and its giver. Then she grabbed Kate's face between her hands and kissed her enthusiastically and, to Kate's gratification, expertly.

The candles had burned down a good inch and Rebeccah's clothes were rumpled and in disarray, though her stays had thwarted Kate's attempts to pay proper homage to her breasts, when Kate became aware of their surroundings once more. Her mouth was dry and she felt an urgent need to take Rebeccah to bed right now.

For it is sure to elicit too many questions. Rebeccah's frown smoothed and she began to straighten her clothing. Kate wondered why she was bothering, for her intention was to strip Rebeccah of it in the next few minutes. The roughness of her voice made Rebeccah look hard at her. Seeing Kate's outstretched hand and impatient expression, her lips curved into a knowing smile. The sound of church bells roused Kate from a dream in which she was riding across the heath, the wind in her hair, a song on her lips, and Rebeccah in the saddle behind her, arms clasped tight around Kate's belly.

For a moment she wondered where she was, then the soft, even breathing and warm press of curves against her arm reminded her. She turned to study her sleeping companion. Rebeccah's face was open and relaxed. Kate pinched herself to make sure she was awake and smiled. No fever dream, this! For a while she simply gazed at Rebeccah, remembering last night's activities and the soft exclamations of surprised pleasure, and resisting, just barely, the urge to take Rebeccah in her arms again.

Outside, the church bells continued to summon worshippers to prayer. Kate intended to worship at quite a different altar when her lover awoke. The need to make water made itself felt. Careful not to disturb Rebeccah, Kate eased herself out of bed. The fire had almost gone out, and the bedchamber was chilly, so she used the chamber pot as quickly and as quietly as she could, then draped the cloth over it and shoved it back under the bed.

As she snuggled back under the warm bedclothes, Rebeccah's breathing caught and then resumed. Kate turned just in time to see awareness returning. The tip of a pink tongue emerged, licked dry, slightly bruised lips, and vanished whence it came. Pale eyelashes fluttered open and green eyes gazed rather blurrily at Kate then struggled to focus.

She waited, slightly anxious, and was relieved when gladness filled Rebeccah's gaze. Rebeccah's gaze turned inwards. Rebeccah regarded her from under lowered lashes. Then she rested a hand on her arm and murmured in her ear. That is, if you are willing. Kate laughed and kissed her again, on the lips this time. To answer you, my dear. Indeed I was not mocking you. Rebeccah felt an overwhelming urge to tell her friend everything. Though I was just turned thirteen and he five-and-sixty, the drunken sot took a fancy to me.

One afternoon, when his wife was out, he tried to rape me. I kneed him in the stones and fled. But I had no intention of selling my body, so I became a cutpurse. Kate shook her head. And I could not bring the constables down on my mother. She had been through enough already. Maybe that was an indication of just how dangerous Kate really was. She charmed her way inside your defences and before you knew it she had stolen your money … and your heart. For someone as sweet and goodnatured as you, there is a suitable husband out there, I am certain of it.

It is just a matter of finding him. Her, corrected Rebeccah sadly, but she managed a smile for her companion. For I have already found and lost her, I fear. With all this, Rebeccah needs to find a way to rescue Kate and above all she gets a marriage proposal. A woman must learn to count herself lucky if her marriage brings her security and good company.

Keep in mind, though, I beg you, that at three-and-twenty you are not getting any younger, Beccah, and another marriage proposal may not come your way. Rebeccah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into hysterics. I can only apologise once more for the gross inconvenience you have suffered.

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And she had never felt so at home or so alive in all her life. Yet, that pardon came with one condition from the Queen: I loved to read this story, a romance between women in a dark era, yet somehow too romanticized and I would have loved more villain action and a little lovemaking between them. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account. Notify me of new comments via email.

Notify me of new posts via email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed. She winked at Rebeccah, expecting her to blush and turn away, but the young woman continued to stare at her, brow creased What are you thinking? But how is that possible? She is a woman! Post navigation Previous Post Previous post: Susan Krieger — a woman to remember- lesbian scholar who lost her sight to find vision.

Next Post Liberty for American Citizens and minorities: Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email required Address never made public. Marian Snowe Author of lesbian romantic fiction. Welcome to my Metaphors.

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