Post by J.Hollick on Jun 17, 2014 2:38:36 GMT -9
Chapter 7: Turning The Tides
“Perfect.” Charles’ yellow grin spread across his face and Theresa noted the bristly whiskers that seemed to have sprung up overnight or perhaps had been thickening all this time. It made him look older, more like their father as he stood in the morning light outside the stables. They had paused to explore in hopes of finding oats or hay to feed the horses before setting out.
“Lady Luck is on our side after all.” He said, flinging the stable doors open all the way. He walked in awe around the grand carriage that stood before him. It was old but seemed more or less in working order and within a half-hour the sisters found themselves relaxing in the back of the jolting wagon as Charles drove them down the road and onwards to their sleepy little country cottage, yelling wildly at the horses in his merriment as he puffed on a cigar.
The farmers, brothers Hugo and Harold Harding, were even more useless than the butcher’s lad, which Inspector Wallace Wingham hadn’t believed possible. Hugo had been knocked out cold by the thieves from the start and was still recovering, he slept more than he was awake and when he was conscious he would natter on about the perfect way to churn milk into butter without seeming aware who was in the room with him, in fact most of the time he was alone when he would start talking.
Harold was no better. He was sporting a lump the size of a small melon sprouting out his forehead and was prone to fainting and dizzy spells. Inspector Wallace Wingham was slightly rattled by the prospect of these thieves being armed and dangerous and himself being alone and outnumbered. Unfortunately exactly how many there were still alluded him as Harold could not remember if it had been three or four, or possibly even as many as six of them but he did know they were all rather large men whom he had almost gained the upper hand of before they cheated like the cowards they were. Though exactly how they cheated Harold couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, say.
As if things could possibly get even worse he heard from the local authorities that a widow had been found dead in her bed and foul play was suspected
Now as it happened, with the slow pace of the slightly lazy Godhold siblings and the fast pace of the well-to-do Balston Brothers, when Charles came to a fork in the road, like two streams forming a river, the two carriages found themselves side by side. The air was filled with the clomping of hooves and the creak of the carriages as they meandered along the road together. Charles was about to haul in the reins and fall behind when he noticed, through the carriage door window, just who was sitting in the back.
The Bastard Balston brothers were far too engaged in the smoking of cigars and drinking of brandy in the back of the bumping barouche to notice the ladies riding along beside them, one of them with a still slightly splotchy face.
Rage consumed Charles as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his newly sewn facemask. Unsure if his sisters had noticed he began to bang on the frame of the carriage. The driver kept giving Charles queer looks, not understanding why this young coach driver dressed in a patched up suit was continuing to take up the wrong side of the road. What if another carriage was to come along from the other direction?! He began to wave angrily to the young man.
Theresa poked her head out of the right-side window and glanced angrily up at her brother who had successfully donned his facemask.
“What?” She yelled against the creaking and the clomping and the wind in her face. Charles took his eyes off the road and spun around to look at her. He pointed to the other carriage, “Balstons!” he yelled. He then motioned for Theresa to join him up front.
“Have you gone mad!?” But Charles looked at her wildly, his lips pursed and his jaw clenched. So with great effort Theresa hauled herself out the window and up to the front of the moving carriage, thinking Charles silly to bother wearing a mask when they were so well known to the Balstons. The driver of the Balstons was now looking at them with even more confusion than before yet still raised no alarm. Charles made eye contact with the man, tipped his hat and gave a wink. Then he proceeded to do something very stupid.
Throwing the reins to his sister he leapt across to the front of the Balston’s barouche, surprising the other driver and knocking him from the seat onto the rough road below, the entire time clutching his top hat with one hand. The old man tumbled in the dust and came to a stop. Coughing and wheezing he watched the two carriages disappear over the hill.
Baldric was just finishing his third brandy of the morning, reading the financial section of the newspaper when the barouche began to get especially bumpy, causing the last few sips of brandy to spill onto his dress shirt. Bernard swore when his cigar fell into his lap and he brushed it away frantically, noting a small hole burned into his pant leg. Baldric gave a rough bang on the roof in frustration to warn the driver to be more careful when there was a loud snapping sound.
“Are we slowing down?” Bernard asked, looking out the window. All around them was rough, wild field full of long tall grass, large rocks, old fallen trees, bumps and holes.
Sure enough the barouche moved only a few more feet before there was a large crunch and they came to a complete stop.
“I say, what is the meaning of this!?” Baldric said, poking his head out the window. When he pulled his head back in his face was pale.
“Why Baldric, you’re white as a ghost. What’s the matter? What has that idiot Mr. Knotts done now?”
Baldric didn’t answer, instead he removed the pistol they kept hidden beneath the seat and got out of the barouche. Bernard followed quickly.
The brothers found themselves standing alone in the rough, empty field. Their driver was nowhere in sight and the horses were trotting off into the distance, the leather of their harnesses cut and snapped. The brothers looked back at the short path they had taken across the field. Somewhere along the way they had lost their driver and their unguided horses had decided to take a detour into the middle of a field. The worst part came a second later when they noticed that the top of the barouche was empty. All the different suitcases and boxes they had ordered packed, full of expensive tuxedos, scotch, brandy, cigars, over £200 and every other comfort the brothers could never be without, was gone.
Laughter rang throughout the woods as the Godhold siblings sat squished on the bench of their carriage heading happily down the road. They had finished an entire bottle of brandy, smoked a cigar and drank a strange, cold tea they found in a flask. The tea was bitter and unpleasant and they had only a few sips each, curious as to why those Bastard Balstons would ever drink such a brew.
Thirty minutes later they unwittingly began to feel the effects. Euphoria crept over them, sitting in the carriage above the road they began to feel as if they were flying across the earth. Their laughter began again, but at what they didn’t know. All around them the world seemed a magical and beautiful place. Sufficiently drunk and high on only the Baldric’s know what the siblings began to fall against each other on the bench, Charles forgetting entirely about the horses and letting the reins slip from his hands. As Jasmine fell against Theresa and Theresa fell against Charles the horses frightened and gave a short burst forward. Too slow in their minds to comprehend what was going on the siblings found themselves tumbling from the carriage and rolling together across the hard packed and rutted road.
Jasmine began to cry immediately, which caused Theresa and Charles to burst into further laughter. A particularly deep gash on Charles’ forehead also became hysterical. The cuts and bruises they had received from their fall seemed not to affect them as they pulled themselves to their feet and began to stumble down the road after the carriage that was becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.
“I feel like we should be quite upset about this.” Charles said with a sly smile on his face, blood streaming slowly down his face to stain his patched suit jacket and new white shirt.
“We should indeed,” Theresa agreed, reaching into the pocket sewn into the bodice of her gown, “but I think we will find that I have the cure to our current sadness.” She was smiling brightly as well, her head so full of clouds that she drifted forward in a slight daze, her normally purposeful stride lost somewhere in the gulps of bitter tea she had drank earlier.
It took Charles a moment to realize what she was holding in her hand but when he did he gave a yell of triumph and immediately snatched it away from her to count it.
“£200!” He exclaimed, just as it was snatched from his hands by Jasmine.
“Oh the dresses I can buy with this. I will be so beautiful.” In her turn Theresa snatched it from Jasmine and placed the notes back in her pocket.
“Yes, dresses indeed.” She said, absent-mindedly.
Inspector Wallace Wingham investigated the house. It was a large, majestic country manor long left to ruin. Paintings of biblical scenes covered the walls and the couches and bedrooms had recently been used. Empty bottles and dishes lay about the kitchen, half eaten foods left out to begin rotting. Between the body upstairs and the food left downstairs the house was already filling with flies, their droning buzzes grating on Wingham’s nerves in a most aggravating manner.
Upstairs lay the widow of the house, Mrs. Ratchett, looking peaceful with her hands folded gently across her chest. She had passed a day before and had been discovered by her gardener when he had entered the house to receive his pay. It had taken Wingham only a moment with the coroner for them to both come to the same conclusion.
“Poison. No doubt. The murderers took advantage of her hospitality but knew they could leave no witnesses behind.”
The coroner agreed with him whole-heartedly, “The tea most like.” He said motioning to the serving tray that still held the cold tea and stale biscuits the Godhold siblings had brought up the day before. Though mice had taken the biscuits and there was nothing more than crumbs left behind. His work done Inspector Wallace Wingham was off within the hour.
The Baldric brothers had left the barouche in the field. It had broken an axle and was more or less useless to them. They began to trudge across the field following the tracks of the wheels, their only possession the hidden gun. Tromping in silence down the road they were not far from their brother’s home and perhaps by nightfall they would reach an inn.
They had not gone far when they saw a figure slumped over in the distance. Cautiously they approached. As they got closer the figure began to take the shape of their old driver, Edward Knotts.
“Mr. Knotts.” Baldric’s voice was touched with anger, not entirely sure that Mr. Knotts was completely innocent of the thievery they had just undergone. The old man looked up, he was bruised and coated in dust. His wrinkled face was pale and his lip was swollen.
“Mr. Balston, I am sorry you have to see me in such a state.” He tried to rise and Bernard helped the old man to his feet.
“Such is life I suppose sometimes Mr. Knotts. Now if you would be so kind as to explain what sort of madness has befallen us it would be greatly appreciated.” Bernard dusted off Mr. Knotts and the old man finally raised his head, his cheeks flushing with anger.
“Twas some twig sir.”
“A twig? I don’t understand.”
“A man sir. Thin as a twig. He knocked me off the carriage and road off with you. That’s all I know I’m afraid, sir.”
“Hmm,” Baldric said, looking down the road, “It appears we have fallen victim to a band of highway robbers.”
“Oh yes sir.” Mr. Knott was wringing his hands in anxiety. He shuddered to think of what would happen if his masters found out he had allowed himself to be bested by a twig of a man and his lanky female cohort, “Oh yes. The twig man was their leader. Big burly men they were sir, and I knew they meant no good but it was no use. I could not outrun them. I raced for many a mile with them thundering on behind me. Then the rain started to fall, obscuring my vision, and I nearly upturned the barouche sir. I thought we were all to die this very day. Then finally, the twig of a man got the best of me. He leapt onto the bench and knocked me off!”
Baldric patted him on the back, looking up at the sky which was full of light fluffy white clouds that gave no indication of the horrible downpour that Mr. Knotts had described. Nor could he remember the wild flight of fighting to outrun the bandits.
“It’s all right Mr. Knotts. We salute your bravery. Can you walk sir? We must press on to town and send word to London of our misfortune.”
“I’ve wandered almost a mile in hopes of finding you but I’m afraid my old bones have quite given up. A lady in a cottage a little ways back saw me and offered me a room for the night. If it please you I would return there and await word from you.”
“Yes. Yes of course, that’s fine. I can see you are quite unable right now.”
The brothers left Mr. Edward Knotts hobbling off to the cottage, aware that they would never send for him after such a huge and inconvenient mess up, they turned down the winding road, a breeze blowing through the branches of the trees that made the day slightly chilly but the perfect temperature for a stroll.
The Godhold siblings, with their heads full of the fluff and clouds of the tea they had consumed, had meandered several feet down the road and were just cresting a slight hill, the forced elation of their heads counteracting the fact that they had now lost their mode of transportation as well as all their possessions; and just when things were finally starting to look up.
As they stopped atop the small hill their spirits lifted further, so high in fact that when recalling the moment in their minds all three siblings would testify that they had actually hovered slightly off the ground.
There before them was their small carriage, the horses having stopped to try and eat the grass growing on the side of the road. Within minutes they were back on the road.
The town was as they remembered it from their childhood; a sleepy little village of fisherman and farmers. A large stone church was erected at the far end of town. There were a few stores, a restaurant and a police station that made up the town centre. They found the only pub in the whole of the village and pulled up, It was twilight and their heads were finally clearing but exhaustion of the day’s adventures was quickly taking over and their eyes were drooping.
“Give it here and I’ll get us a room.” Charles said, hopping down. Referring to the £200 that Theresa had stashed in her pocket but she quickly hopped off the carriage after Charles and strode into the pub. The pair left Jasmine to struggle down on her own in one of Mrs. Hill’s ridiculously large dresses.
The pub was far too warm and smelled of seaweed, fish and fishermen. Theresa ignored the pungent aroma and quickly arranged a room for the night and a stable for the horses. When Jasmine finally joined them Theresa was only too willing to disappear up to the room for the night. Only Charles, seeing a chance to win some money when he noticed the men gambling in the corner, and Jasmine seeing a room full of eligible men, decided to brave the overwhelming stench.
Jasmine was pouting on her stool at the bar. Not a single man was interested in marriage, or so her brother told her. All they wanted was to do the forbidden stuff that Theresa had prohibited her from doing lest she ruin her innocence and a good match could never be made. Arms crossed and lip out she looked like a large, fat child, huffing and puffing and sighing. She had been pinched and kissed and prodded and thrown around the room, passed from lap to lap. She hadn’t minded it, their kisses were slobbery and sloppy, their sausage fingers pinching her fleshy bits but the attention had been nice after spending the last few days being bullied and ignored by her older siblings. But after enough time Charles finally put a stop to it and pulled her to the side, set her on a stool and threatened to wake up Theresa if she did not stop behaving like a tramp. She was bored and tired but far too angry with Theresa to consider going to bed yet.
Charles was having a much better time in his corner. He had gone upstairs briefly and changed into one of the many fancy suits they had stolen from the Balston brothers and was feeling quite proud and pleased with himself. Downstairs he found that once you got used to the smell the fishermen were actually quite amicable fellows with some uproarious stories to tell a young city lad. Lady Luck seemed also to be on his side as he turned his sixpence into 10s. Of course the rest of the money was upstairs with Theresa. She had given him a sixpence for dinner and that was it.
Charles was about to deal out another round, stacking the deck secretly as he did so, when a door opened and a young man walked in. Both Charles and Jasmine noted his arrival before sharing a quick, nervous glance at each other.
The man who had entered went straight to the bar, ordered a pint and sat down at the table with Charles.
Charles had not seen this man since he was a child but there was no mistaking who he was. His jet-black hair was thick and hung to his shoulders; his eyes were an icy blue. He carried himself with complete confidence and Charles couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He was dressed in an expensive black tuxedo and top hat that he removed and set on the table upon sitting. He pulled out a leather wallet, counted his money and laid some on the table. The waitress came over, a wide smile on her face as she undressed him with her eyes.
“Deal me in please gentlemen, and I’ll buy the next round. My brothers should be here any minute and I need to be sufficiently intoxicated before then or there will no doubt be some bloodshed by the end of the night.” For the man sitting before Charles was none other than the youngest of the Bastard Balstons, Benjamin. Charles gulped loudly, suddenly feeling the heat of the room as he pulled against his collar to loosen it from his throat. He realized that everyone was still staring at him and quickly dealt out the cards. When the waitress brought the table a round of drinks Charles drank the lukewarm liquid quickly, desperate to occupy his mouth lest he say something stupid.
With the extra body at the table the hand that Charles had so cleverly stacked to favour him turned against him and he not only lost his profit but his sixpence as well. Which was just as good in his eyes since he needed an excuse to get away and disappear before Benjamin recognized him.
“I’m afraid that’s it for me gentlemen. My money is spent and I have had a long day.” Charles rose and gave a slight bow before turning and heading to get Jasmine.
“Oh Charles, do stay a while longer. It’s been so long since last we saw each other.” Charles eyes flew wide as he spun on his heels. His fingers played nervously with the insides of his pockets and he rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Indeed. It has been years. I thought you hadn’t recognized me.” His throat was dry, his heart was pounding and he suddenly began calculating the fastest route to the nearest exit. He had not laid eyes on Benjamin Balston in nearly two decades, back when they had both been nothing more than snot nosed children. The rivalry between Mr. Balston and Charles’ father Mr. Godhold had been a fierce one and Charles had been forbidden from ever hanging out with any of the Balston boys.
“Come. Join me for a smoke.” Charles didn’t know what to say, Benjamin was acting so polite. Charles just nodded and followed him outside, pleading silently with his younger sister Jasmine as she watched the scene unfold from her bar stool, a look on her face half way between horror and amusement.
Once outside Charles searched desperately up and down the street, there was nowhere to run. Beside him Benjamin pulled out a silver case and passed Charles a cigarette, a thing Charles seen but never smoked. He took it with shaking hands and leaned forwards as Benjamin held up the lit match. He took a long, hard drag on it, coughed and felt his nerves quiet a little. It was a lighter smoke than a cigar, and inhaled into the lungs instead of just drawn into the mouth but it was quite a pleasant experience.
“So, Charles. What brings you out to the countryside?”
“Um. Well. My sisters and I decided to spend some time away, at the country cottage. Life in the big city is just such hustle and bustle all the time. It’s nice to get away every once in a while.” He took another drag.
“I quite agree. I was never a fan of the city. I’ve lived in my father’s country villa going on three years now and I couldn’t be happier. It’s not for everyone of course. My brothers, for example, have never enjoyed being out of the city. They complain of the air, the lack of social events and the common company I keep. But really, it’s better than dealing with the back stabbing socialites of London.” His voice grew bitter as he spoke and Charles began to wonder at the youngest Balston brother. His fingers were long and slender, not a tobacco stain on them and the nails well-kept and shining. His long straight, Balston nose and his white pearl-like teeth with his strong jawline gave Charles’ heart a spin and sent his stomach fluttering.
“You said your brothers were on their way here? Why so if they truly hate the country?”
“Oh I’m sure it’s just business. A good friend of mine in London who keeps in their social circle sent me word that they want to buy my shares so they no longer have to deal with me. I’m afraid I appear quite eccentric to them.”
“Are you going to sell?”
Benjamin gave a small laugh, “I have absolutely no intention of selling. The company is in good shape so I make a very comfortable living without even having to lift my finger. My brother may be something of a bastard but he is, at least, a very capable businessman. We made an agreement long ago that I don’t interfere with the business and they don’t interfere with my choice of lifestyle. With the company doing so well no doubt they would like to increase their own profits and are going to try and buy me out with a bunch of fancy words and maybe even a slight amount of bullying. I really hope they have an absolutely miserable trip, it will make telling them to fuck off all the more satisfying.”
Charles was surprised by these revelations and an idea was sparked. He took Benjamin’s hand and led him around to the small stables constructed out back, the carriage parked beside it.
He hopped up onto the carriage, spreading his arms wide to indicate all the travelling cases sitting on the top. It took a moment for Benjamin to catch on but when he finally noticed the Balston company logo his face lit up in a grin.
“Oh Charles! I could absolutely kiss you right now! I only wish I could have seen the look on their faces.”
Charles jumped lightly down onto the ground. Maybe it was the ale, maybe it was the elation of finally being at their destination or maybe it was the perfectly pink lips of Benjamin Balston but without any hesitation Charles took two long strides in Benjamin’s direction, cupped Benjamin’s chiseled face between his tobacco stained hands and kissed him.
Memories of his childhood flooded through him. All the times he had played in the back yard with Benjamin, up until the day his father, red faced and raging over his recent business failures, forbid him from ever seeing Benjamin again.
“There’s something queer about that boy, add to that the fact that his father is a low down, back stabbing, conniving piece of scum and I cannot ethically allow my only son to be corrupted by whatever it is that goes on in that household!” There had been no way around it and Charles had accepted his fate. Now, here he was, drunk and kissing not only another man but also a Balston at that! His father would turn in his grave to think of it; that is if his father had been dead. Charles imagined his father sleeping on his cot in the madhouse sitting bolt upright out of a sound sleep and cursing all the Balston’s and Charles with them. It was enough to clear his head and he suddenly stepped back, realizing what he had done.
“I apologize. I was only caught up in the moment. If there had been a woman here I promise you I would have kissed her instead.” It was the best lie he could come up with as he paled, waiting for whatever was going to come next.
“Well then I am glad there no women was around.” Benjamin said with a sly smile and a wink.
Jasmine was still sitting on the barstool. Charles and Benjamin had been gone a long time. She had seen his pleading look but part of her was still seething over his recent, unacceptable behaviour in forbidding her to have fun so she sat and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally she went outside to look for her brother but he was nowhere to be found. Slightly scared she hurried up to their room and woke Theresa.
The sisters hurried outside, Theresa in only her under gown but ignoring the cat calls coming from the drunken countrymen. The streets were empty and quiet.
“Where could he be?” Jasmine was turning in circles, first looking up one street and then another. Theresa put a hand out to stop her as she became dizzy and stumbled slightly.
“I don’t know but we must find him.”
They found him quick enough. Walking around the pub they could hear knocking and creaking coming from the back. They headed down the alley in the dark to see the carriage rocking slightly with movement. Scared that Charles was being brutally hacked to death by the youngest Bastard Balston Theresa and Jasmine raced to the carriage and flung the door open; and that was when Charles quite literally got caught with his pants down.
Night had fallen, it was not much further but the brothers were thoroughly exhausted from their trek. They stopped at the side of the road to rest, amazed that the road was so devoid of travellers and cursing the country.
They were about to rise and continue on their way when they heard the distinct sound of horses trotting. They could see figures in the distance but it was far too dark out to make out anything distinct.
“Do we call out? Or wait for them to pass?” Bernard asked, searching for somewhere to hide.
“I don’t know. Travellers in the night always arouse my suspicions but then again we are travellers in the night.” Baldric drew the pistol and backed against the fence running the length of the road, marking the edge of some farmer’s field.
The horses approached and Baldric counted five men. Four of them were large and burly. The leader was nothing more than a stick of a man and between the darkness and the anger of the day still fresh in his mind Baldric came to a rash conclusion. Stepping forward he brandished the pistol and fired into the night towards the stick man. The horses startled, three threw their riders, the other two managed to hold on as their horses bolted off into the night, one of them knocking Baldric over as it rushed past.
Baldric tasted blood and dirt in his mouth and then the crushing weight of one of the big men pinning him to the ground. The pistol was pried from his hands.
Hauled roughly to his feet he could smell the stench of rotting teeth as the big man held him by the front of his suit and shook him, laughing all the while. Off to his side Bernard was pinned to the ground and he glared up at Baldric, seething with anger and wondering what could have possibly possessed his usually calm and collected older brother to shoot wildly at complete strangers.
Before Baldric could even begin to question the man he felt a fist slam into his stomach and the wind leave his lungs. Struggling for breath he tried to speak,
“How, how,” He was too busy gasping to get the words out, “How dare you!” He finally managed. The burly bully who had punched him still had a firm grip on his suit and shook him again.
“Excuse me, monsieur but ow dare you. Shooting blindly into ze night. You are lucky I am quite forgiving, when zere’s money involved.” Charbonne noted their tuxedos, which while dusty and pitted with sweat stains were no doubt Hawkes originals. These men were not your average worn out travellers, they had money somewhere and Charbonne’s favourite past time was extortion.
Baldric shook his head, “I have none. If I did do you think I would be traveling on foot?” Rage made him shake, if there had been any light out Charbonne would have noted his face turning flush and the wild light in his eyes but it was far too dark out and Charbonne was far too eager to apprehend those good for nothing Godhold siblings. The men were in rough shape, doubtless from the looks of them they had already been the result of a highway robber so he turned instead to his bullies and nodded. Their faces lit up in large, stupid grins and the beatings began.
Baldric and Bernard were left on the side of the road bruised from head to toe as the twig man bested them for what they thought was the second time that day. Too bruised to move the brothers leaned against the wooden fence and fell into a fitful sleep, fighting the cold of the country air.
“It’s not fair!” Jasmine was wailing as Theresa rushed her back to the room.
“Hush! Keep your mouth shut, no one else needs to hear of this.” The crowd of drunken bar patrons were all staring and Theresa hauled her younger sister up the stairs by her hand as she fought to head back down. Once up in the room Theresa pushed her onto the bed and locked the door behind them.
“Enough Jasmine.”
“But it’s not fair. Charles told me, he told me that I can’t do that sort of thing so why is he allowed to? Let me go!” She rose to head back down the stairs but Theresa shoved her back down.
“You’re right. It’s not fair but Charles is a man. It’s… different. Just as dangerous but in a different way. For Charles’ sake keep your big mouth shut.” Theresa herself was shocked enough that she didn’t feel like showing any patience towards Jasmine’s meltdown. That Charles was a bit of a poof Theresa had known since his early childhood years, though he somehow managed to keep it hidden from their parents. That he would stoop so low as Benjamin Balston was another matter entirely. Theresa paced about the room trying to settle her racing thoughts while Jasmine sobbed hard into the pillows. Finally there came a knock and Theresa opened the door to find Benjamin Balston standing before her.
“Theresa, lovely as always.” He said, removing his top hat and bowing slightly. There was no sarcasm in his voice but Theresa, only too aware of her towering height; bowlegs, large feet and generally lanky appearance could not take the compliment.
“Nice to see you don’t talk with your mouth full.” She responded.
“May I come in?” He stepped across the threshold without waiting for an answer, “I understand our family’s unfortunate history together, I was very sorry to hear about your mother and father by the way, but you must understand that I am not my brothers.”
“Oh you are most definitely not your brothers. I doubt Baldric or Bernard would ever be caught in the position I have just found you in.”
Benjamin smiled at the double entendre, “You are most certainly right. But you must also know that I do truly care for your brother. I have missed our time apart greatly. Charles has told me everything, how you have had to flee London to come and live at the country cottage. I also know that you have not been back there since Jasmine was in diapers and so don’t rightly remember where it is. Come stay with me tonight at my villa, I will take you there in the morning.”
Before Theresa could answer Charles came bursting into the room, “We have to go!” He grabbed his sister’s suitcases and headed for the door.
“What is it?” Benjamin and Theresa asked in unison.
“Monsieur Charbonne! He’s here with his debt collectors.” Theresa’s face blanched. At record speed the siblings were packed and out the door only to come to a halt at the foot of the stairs. Charbonne was just entering the pub, the massive muscular forms of his debt collectors shuffling in behind him.
“Quick, back up!” They raced back up the stairs as stealthily as they could but they were not quick enough. A cry sounded behind them as Charbonne and his debt collectors upended chairs and tables as they charged across the room. The Godhold siblings and Benjamin Balston slammed the door behind them and threw the bolt.
“This way!” Benjamin yelled, throwing open the window. He climbed down and landed lightly on the roof of the porch, then down into the street below. Theresa was right behind him, throwing her suitcase down first. She landed, stumbled and was saved from falling by Benjamin.
Jasmine was next. She threw her suitcase out; behind her in the room Charbonne was beating on the door, trying to break the bolt and demanding to be let inside. Panicking Jasmine hesitated, while Charles panicked and pushed her. She tumbled out the window onto the porch roof and kept rolling. Benjamin, ever the gentleman, tried to catch her but that was like a baboon trying to catch a manatee and they both collapsed into a heap on the ground. Charles was right behind them, landing to the side and picking up the suitcase. Benjamin put his fingers to his lips and whistled. A second later his own carriage came around the corner and they all clambered in and were off. Up above there was a large crash and Charbonne’s face appeared in the window.
“Down, to the streets!” He yelled, disappearing. The siblings were long gone into the dark when Charbonne came sprinting out of the pub. At break neck speed Benjamin ordered the carriage out of the village and down the dark country roads to his humble country villa.
They waited at the villa with bated breath but after an hour the debt collectors had yet to come. With a round of red wine to calm their nerves Benjamin sent a servant to retrieve the Godhold’s carriage and put them to bed in his luxurious guest rooms.
“Perfect.” Charles’ yellow grin spread across his face and Theresa noted the bristly whiskers that seemed to have sprung up overnight or perhaps had been thickening all this time. It made him look older, more like their father as he stood in the morning light outside the stables. They had paused to explore in hopes of finding oats or hay to feed the horses before setting out.
“Lady Luck is on our side after all.” He said, flinging the stable doors open all the way. He walked in awe around the grand carriage that stood before him. It was old but seemed more or less in working order and within a half-hour the sisters found themselves relaxing in the back of the jolting wagon as Charles drove them down the road and onwards to their sleepy little country cottage, yelling wildly at the horses in his merriment as he puffed on a cigar.
The farmers, brothers Hugo and Harold Harding, were even more useless than the butcher’s lad, which Inspector Wallace Wingham hadn’t believed possible. Hugo had been knocked out cold by the thieves from the start and was still recovering, he slept more than he was awake and when he was conscious he would natter on about the perfect way to churn milk into butter without seeming aware who was in the room with him, in fact most of the time he was alone when he would start talking.
Harold was no better. He was sporting a lump the size of a small melon sprouting out his forehead and was prone to fainting and dizzy spells. Inspector Wallace Wingham was slightly rattled by the prospect of these thieves being armed and dangerous and himself being alone and outnumbered. Unfortunately exactly how many there were still alluded him as Harold could not remember if it had been three or four, or possibly even as many as six of them but he did know they were all rather large men whom he had almost gained the upper hand of before they cheated like the cowards they were. Though exactly how they cheated Harold couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, say.
As if things could possibly get even worse he heard from the local authorities that a widow had been found dead in her bed and foul play was suspected
Now as it happened, with the slow pace of the slightly lazy Godhold siblings and the fast pace of the well-to-do Balston Brothers, when Charles came to a fork in the road, like two streams forming a river, the two carriages found themselves side by side. The air was filled with the clomping of hooves and the creak of the carriages as they meandered along the road together. Charles was about to haul in the reins and fall behind when he noticed, through the carriage door window, just who was sitting in the back.
The Bastard Balston brothers were far too engaged in the smoking of cigars and drinking of brandy in the back of the bumping barouche to notice the ladies riding along beside them, one of them with a still slightly splotchy face.
Rage consumed Charles as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his newly sewn facemask. Unsure if his sisters had noticed he began to bang on the frame of the carriage. The driver kept giving Charles queer looks, not understanding why this young coach driver dressed in a patched up suit was continuing to take up the wrong side of the road. What if another carriage was to come along from the other direction?! He began to wave angrily to the young man.
Theresa poked her head out of the right-side window and glanced angrily up at her brother who had successfully donned his facemask.
“What?” She yelled against the creaking and the clomping and the wind in her face. Charles took his eyes off the road and spun around to look at her. He pointed to the other carriage, “Balstons!” he yelled. He then motioned for Theresa to join him up front.
“Have you gone mad!?” But Charles looked at her wildly, his lips pursed and his jaw clenched. So with great effort Theresa hauled herself out the window and up to the front of the moving carriage, thinking Charles silly to bother wearing a mask when they were so well known to the Balstons. The driver of the Balstons was now looking at them with even more confusion than before yet still raised no alarm. Charles made eye contact with the man, tipped his hat and gave a wink. Then he proceeded to do something very stupid.
Throwing the reins to his sister he leapt across to the front of the Balston’s barouche, surprising the other driver and knocking him from the seat onto the rough road below, the entire time clutching his top hat with one hand. The old man tumbled in the dust and came to a stop. Coughing and wheezing he watched the two carriages disappear over the hill.
Baldric was just finishing his third brandy of the morning, reading the financial section of the newspaper when the barouche began to get especially bumpy, causing the last few sips of brandy to spill onto his dress shirt. Bernard swore when his cigar fell into his lap and he brushed it away frantically, noting a small hole burned into his pant leg. Baldric gave a rough bang on the roof in frustration to warn the driver to be more careful when there was a loud snapping sound.
“Are we slowing down?” Bernard asked, looking out the window. All around them was rough, wild field full of long tall grass, large rocks, old fallen trees, bumps and holes.
Sure enough the barouche moved only a few more feet before there was a large crunch and they came to a complete stop.
“I say, what is the meaning of this!?” Baldric said, poking his head out the window. When he pulled his head back in his face was pale.
“Why Baldric, you’re white as a ghost. What’s the matter? What has that idiot Mr. Knotts done now?”
Baldric didn’t answer, instead he removed the pistol they kept hidden beneath the seat and got out of the barouche. Bernard followed quickly.
The brothers found themselves standing alone in the rough, empty field. Their driver was nowhere in sight and the horses were trotting off into the distance, the leather of their harnesses cut and snapped. The brothers looked back at the short path they had taken across the field. Somewhere along the way they had lost their driver and their unguided horses had decided to take a detour into the middle of a field. The worst part came a second later when they noticed that the top of the barouche was empty. All the different suitcases and boxes they had ordered packed, full of expensive tuxedos, scotch, brandy, cigars, over £200 and every other comfort the brothers could never be without, was gone.
Laughter rang throughout the woods as the Godhold siblings sat squished on the bench of their carriage heading happily down the road. They had finished an entire bottle of brandy, smoked a cigar and drank a strange, cold tea they found in a flask. The tea was bitter and unpleasant and they had only a few sips each, curious as to why those Bastard Balstons would ever drink such a brew.
Thirty minutes later they unwittingly began to feel the effects. Euphoria crept over them, sitting in the carriage above the road they began to feel as if they were flying across the earth. Their laughter began again, but at what they didn’t know. All around them the world seemed a magical and beautiful place. Sufficiently drunk and high on only the Baldric’s know what the siblings began to fall against each other on the bench, Charles forgetting entirely about the horses and letting the reins slip from his hands. As Jasmine fell against Theresa and Theresa fell against Charles the horses frightened and gave a short burst forward. Too slow in their minds to comprehend what was going on the siblings found themselves tumbling from the carriage and rolling together across the hard packed and rutted road.
Jasmine began to cry immediately, which caused Theresa and Charles to burst into further laughter. A particularly deep gash on Charles’ forehead also became hysterical. The cuts and bruises they had received from their fall seemed not to affect them as they pulled themselves to their feet and began to stumble down the road after the carriage that was becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.
“I feel like we should be quite upset about this.” Charles said with a sly smile on his face, blood streaming slowly down his face to stain his patched suit jacket and new white shirt.
“We should indeed,” Theresa agreed, reaching into the pocket sewn into the bodice of her gown, “but I think we will find that I have the cure to our current sadness.” She was smiling brightly as well, her head so full of clouds that she drifted forward in a slight daze, her normally purposeful stride lost somewhere in the gulps of bitter tea she had drank earlier.
It took Charles a moment to realize what she was holding in her hand but when he did he gave a yell of triumph and immediately snatched it away from her to count it.
“£200!” He exclaimed, just as it was snatched from his hands by Jasmine.
“Oh the dresses I can buy with this. I will be so beautiful.” In her turn Theresa snatched it from Jasmine and placed the notes back in her pocket.
“Yes, dresses indeed.” She said, absent-mindedly.
Inspector Wallace Wingham investigated the house. It was a large, majestic country manor long left to ruin. Paintings of biblical scenes covered the walls and the couches and bedrooms had recently been used. Empty bottles and dishes lay about the kitchen, half eaten foods left out to begin rotting. Between the body upstairs and the food left downstairs the house was already filling with flies, their droning buzzes grating on Wingham’s nerves in a most aggravating manner.
Upstairs lay the widow of the house, Mrs. Ratchett, looking peaceful with her hands folded gently across her chest. She had passed a day before and had been discovered by her gardener when he had entered the house to receive his pay. It had taken Wingham only a moment with the coroner for them to both come to the same conclusion.
“Poison. No doubt. The murderers took advantage of her hospitality but knew they could leave no witnesses behind.”
The coroner agreed with him whole-heartedly, “The tea most like.” He said motioning to the serving tray that still held the cold tea and stale biscuits the Godhold siblings had brought up the day before. Though mice had taken the biscuits and there was nothing more than crumbs left behind. His work done Inspector Wallace Wingham was off within the hour.
The Baldric brothers had left the barouche in the field. It had broken an axle and was more or less useless to them. They began to trudge across the field following the tracks of the wheels, their only possession the hidden gun. Tromping in silence down the road they were not far from their brother’s home and perhaps by nightfall they would reach an inn.
They had not gone far when they saw a figure slumped over in the distance. Cautiously they approached. As they got closer the figure began to take the shape of their old driver, Edward Knotts.
“Mr. Knotts.” Baldric’s voice was touched with anger, not entirely sure that Mr. Knotts was completely innocent of the thievery they had just undergone. The old man looked up, he was bruised and coated in dust. His wrinkled face was pale and his lip was swollen.
“Mr. Balston, I am sorry you have to see me in such a state.” He tried to rise and Bernard helped the old man to his feet.
“Such is life I suppose sometimes Mr. Knotts. Now if you would be so kind as to explain what sort of madness has befallen us it would be greatly appreciated.” Bernard dusted off Mr. Knotts and the old man finally raised his head, his cheeks flushing with anger.
“Twas some twig sir.”
“A twig? I don’t understand.”
“A man sir. Thin as a twig. He knocked me off the carriage and road off with you. That’s all I know I’m afraid, sir.”
“Hmm,” Baldric said, looking down the road, “It appears we have fallen victim to a band of highway robbers.”
“Oh yes sir.” Mr. Knott was wringing his hands in anxiety. He shuddered to think of what would happen if his masters found out he had allowed himself to be bested by a twig of a man and his lanky female cohort, “Oh yes. The twig man was their leader. Big burly men they were sir, and I knew they meant no good but it was no use. I could not outrun them. I raced for many a mile with them thundering on behind me. Then the rain started to fall, obscuring my vision, and I nearly upturned the barouche sir. I thought we were all to die this very day. Then finally, the twig of a man got the best of me. He leapt onto the bench and knocked me off!”
Baldric patted him on the back, looking up at the sky which was full of light fluffy white clouds that gave no indication of the horrible downpour that Mr. Knotts had described. Nor could he remember the wild flight of fighting to outrun the bandits.
“It’s all right Mr. Knotts. We salute your bravery. Can you walk sir? We must press on to town and send word to London of our misfortune.”
“I’ve wandered almost a mile in hopes of finding you but I’m afraid my old bones have quite given up. A lady in a cottage a little ways back saw me and offered me a room for the night. If it please you I would return there and await word from you.”
“Yes. Yes of course, that’s fine. I can see you are quite unable right now.”
The brothers left Mr. Edward Knotts hobbling off to the cottage, aware that they would never send for him after such a huge and inconvenient mess up, they turned down the winding road, a breeze blowing through the branches of the trees that made the day slightly chilly but the perfect temperature for a stroll.
The Godhold siblings, with their heads full of the fluff and clouds of the tea they had consumed, had meandered several feet down the road and were just cresting a slight hill, the forced elation of their heads counteracting the fact that they had now lost their mode of transportation as well as all their possessions; and just when things were finally starting to look up.
As they stopped atop the small hill their spirits lifted further, so high in fact that when recalling the moment in their minds all three siblings would testify that they had actually hovered slightly off the ground.
There before them was their small carriage, the horses having stopped to try and eat the grass growing on the side of the road. Within minutes they were back on the road.
The town was as they remembered it from their childhood; a sleepy little village of fisherman and farmers. A large stone church was erected at the far end of town. There were a few stores, a restaurant and a police station that made up the town centre. They found the only pub in the whole of the village and pulled up, It was twilight and their heads were finally clearing but exhaustion of the day’s adventures was quickly taking over and their eyes were drooping.
“Give it here and I’ll get us a room.” Charles said, hopping down. Referring to the £200 that Theresa had stashed in her pocket but she quickly hopped off the carriage after Charles and strode into the pub. The pair left Jasmine to struggle down on her own in one of Mrs. Hill’s ridiculously large dresses.
The pub was far too warm and smelled of seaweed, fish and fishermen. Theresa ignored the pungent aroma and quickly arranged a room for the night and a stable for the horses. When Jasmine finally joined them Theresa was only too willing to disappear up to the room for the night. Only Charles, seeing a chance to win some money when he noticed the men gambling in the corner, and Jasmine seeing a room full of eligible men, decided to brave the overwhelming stench.
Jasmine was pouting on her stool at the bar. Not a single man was interested in marriage, or so her brother told her. All they wanted was to do the forbidden stuff that Theresa had prohibited her from doing lest she ruin her innocence and a good match could never be made. Arms crossed and lip out she looked like a large, fat child, huffing and puffing and sighing. She had been pinched and kissed and prodded and thrown around the room, passed from lap to lap. She hadn’t minded it, their kisses were slobbery and sloppy, their sausage fingers pinching her fleshy bits but the attention had been nice after spending the last few days being bullied and ignored by her older siblings. But after enough time Charles finally put a stop to it and pulled her to the side, set her on a stool and threatened to wake up Theresa if she did not stop behaving like a tramp. She was bored and tired but far too angry with Theresa to consider going to bed yet.
Charles was having a much better time in his corner. He had gone upstairs briefly and changed into one of the many fancy suits they had stolen from the Balston brothers and was feeling quite proud and pleased with himself. Downstairs he found that once you got used to the smell the fishermen were actually quite amicable fellows with some uproarious stories to tell a young city lad. Lady Luck seemed also to be on his side as he turned his sixpence into 10s. Of course the rest of the money was upstairs with Theresa. She had given him a sixpence for dinner and that was it.
Charles was about to deal out another round, stacking the deck secretly as he did so, when a door opened and a young man walked in. Both Charles and Jasmine noted his arrival before sharing a quick, nervous glance at each other.
The man who had entered went straight to the bar, ordered a pint and sat down at the table with Charles.
Charles had not seen this man since he was a child but there was no mistaking who he was. His jet-black hair was thick and hung to his shoulders; his eyes were an icy blue. He carried himself with complete confidence and Charles couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He was dressed in an expensive black tuxedo and top hat that he removed and set on the table upon sitting. He pulled out a leather wallet, counted his money and laid some on the table. The waitress came over, a wide smile on her face as she undressed him with her eyes.
“Deal me in please gentlemen, and I’ll buy the next round. My brothers should be here any minute and I need to be sufficiently intoxicated before then or there will no doubt be some bloodshed by the end of the night.” For the man sitting before Charles was none other than the youngest of the Bastard Balstons, Benjamin. Charles gulped loudly, suddenly feeling the heat of the room as he pulled against his collar to loosen it from his throat. He realized that everyone was still staring at him and quickly dealt out the cards. When the waitress brought the table a round of drinks Charles drank the lukewarm liquid quickly, desperate to occupy his mouth lest he say something stupid.
With the extra body at the table the hand that Charles had so cleverly stacked to favour him turned against him and he not only lost his profit but his sixpence as well. Which was just as good in his eyes since he needed an excuse to get away and disappear before Benjamin recognized him.
“I’m afraid that’s it for me gentlemen. My money is spent and I have had a long day.” Charles rose and gave a slight bow before turning and heading to get Jasmine.
“Oh Charles, do stay a while longer. It’s been so long since last we saw each other.” Charles eyes flew wide as he spun on his heels. His fingers played nervously with the insides of his pockets and he rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Indeed. It has been years. I thought you hadn’t recognized me.” His throat was dry, his heart was pounding and he suddenly began calculating the fastest route to the nearest exit. He had not laid eyes on Benjamin Balston in nearly two decades, back when they had both been nothing more than snot nosed children. The rivalry between Mr. Balston and Charles’ father Mr. Godhold had been a fierce one and Charles had been forbidden from ever hanging out with any of the Balston boys.
“Come. Join me for a smoke.” Charles didn’t know what to say, Benjamin was acting so polite. Charles just nodded and followed him outside, pleading silently with his younger sister Jasmine as she watched the scene unfold from her bar stool, a look on her face half way between horror and amusement.
Once outside Charles searched desperately up and down the street, there was nowhere to run. Beside him Benjamin pulled out a silver case and passed Charles a cigarette, a thing Charles seen but never smoked. He took it with shaking hands and leaned forwards as Benjamin held up the lit match. He took a long, hard drag on it, coughed and felt his nerves quiet a little. It was a lighter smoke than a cigar, and inhaled into the lungs instead of just drawn into the mouth but it was quite a pleasant experience.
“So, Charles. What brings you out to the countryside?”
“Um. Well. My sisters and I decided to spend some time away, at the country cottage. Life in the big city is just such hustle and bustle all the time. It’s nice to get away every once in a while.” He took another drag.
“I quite agree. I was never a fan of the city. I’ve lived in my father’s country villa going on three years now and I couldn’t be happier. It’s not for everyone of course. My brothers, for example, have never enjoyed being out of the city. They complain of the air, the lack of social events and the common company I keep. But really, it’s better than dealing with the back stabbing socialites of London.” His voice grew bitter as he spoke and Charles began to wonder at the youngest Balston brother. His fingers were long and slender, not a tobacco stain on them and the nails well-kept and shining. His long straight, Balston nose and his white pearl-like teeth with his strong jawline gave Charles’ heart a spin and sent his stomach fluttering.
“You said your brothers were on their way here? Why so if they truly hate the country?”
“Oh I’m sure it’s just business. A good friend of mine in London who keeps in their social circle sent me word that they want to buy my shares so they no longer have to deal with me. I’m afraid I appear quite eccentric to them.”
“Are you going to sell?”
Benjamin gave a small laugh, “I have absolutely no intention of selling. The company is in good shape so I make a very comfortable living without even having to lift my finger. My brother may be something of a bastard but he is, at least, a very capable businessman. We made an agreement long ago that I don’t interfere with the business and they don’t interfere with my choice of lifestyle. With the company doing so well no doubt they would like to increase their own profits and are going to try and buy me out with a bunch of fancy words and maybe even a slight amount of bullying. I really hope they have an absolutely miserable trip, it will make telling them to fuck off all the more satisfying.”
Charles was surprised by these revelations and an idea was sparked. He took Benjamin’s hand and led him around to the small stables constructed out back, the carriage parked beside it.
He hopped up onto the carriage, spreading his arms wide to indicate all the travelling cases sitting on the top. It took a moment for Benjamin to catch on but when he finally noticed the Balston company logo his face lit up in a grin.
“Oh Charles! I could absolutely kiss you right now! I only wish I could have seen the look on their faces.”
Charles jumped lightly down onto the ground. Maybe it was the ale, maybe it was the elation of finally being at their destination or maybe it was the perfectly pink lips of Benjamin Balston but without any hesitation Charles took two long strides in Benjamin’s direction, cupped Benjamin’s chiseled face between his tobacco stained hands and kissed him.
Memories of his childhood flooded through him. All the times he had played in the back yard with Benjamin, up until the day his father, red faced and raging over his recent business failures, forbid him from ever seeing Benjamin again.
“There’s something queer about that boy, add to that the fact that his father is a low down, back stabbing, conniving piece of scum and I cannot ethically allow my only son to be corrupted by whatever it is that goes on in that household!” There had been no way around it and Charles had accepted his fate. Now, here he was, drunk and kissing not only another man but also a Balston at that! His father would turn in his grave to think of it; that is if his father had been dead. Charles imagined his father sleeping on his cot in the madhouse sitting bolt upright out of a sound sleep and cursing all the Balston’s and Charles with them. It was enough to clear his head and he suddenly stepped back, realizing what he had done.
“I apologize. I was only caught up in the moment. If there had been a woman here I promise you I would have kissed her instead.” It was the best lie he could come up with as he paled, waiting for whatever was going to come next.
“Well then I am glad there no women was around.” Benjamin said with a sly smile and a wink.
Jasmine was still sitting on the barstool. Charles and Benjamin had been gone a long time. She had seen his pleading look but part of her was still seething over his recent, unacceptable behaviour in forbidding her to have fun so she sat and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally she went outside to look for her brother but he was nowhere to be found. Slightly scared she hurried up to their room and woke Theresa.
The sisters hurried outside, Theresa in only her under gown but ignoring the cat calls coming from the drunken countrymen. The streets were empty and quiet.
“Where could he be?” Jasmine was turning in circles, first looking up one street and then another. Theresa put a hand out to stop her as she became dizzy and stumbled slightly.
“I don’t know but we must find him.”
They found him quick enough. Walking around the pub they could hear knocking and creaking coming from the back. They headed down the alley in the dark to see the carriage rocking slightly with movement. Scared that Charles was being brutally hacked to death by the youngest Bastard Balston Theresa and Jasmine raced to the carriage and flung the door open; and that was when Charles quite literally got caught with his pants down.
Night had fallen, it was not much further but the brothers were thoroughly exhausted from their trek. They stopped at the side of the road to rest, amazed that the road was so devoid of travellers and cursing the country.
They were about to rise and continue on their way when they heard the distinct sound of horses trotting. They could see figures in the distance but it was far too dark out to make out anything distinct.
“Do we call out? Or wait for them to pass?” Bernard asked, searching for somewhere to hide.
“I don’t know. Travellers in the night always arouse my suspicions but then again we are travellers in the night.” Baldric drew the pistol and backed against the fence running the length of the road, marking the edge of some farmer’s field.
The horses approached and Baldric counted five men. Four of them were large and burly. The leader was nothing more than a stick of a man and between the darkness and the anger of the day still fresh in his mind Baldric came to a rash conclusion. Stepping forward he brandished the pistol and fired into the night towards the stick man. The horses startled, three threw their riders, the other two managed to hold on as their horses bolted off into the night, one of them knocking Baldric over as it rushed past.
Baldric tasted blood and dirt in his mouth and then the crushing weight of one of the big men pinning him to the ground. The pistol was pried from his hands.
Hauled roughly to his feet he could smell the stench of rotting teeth as the big man held him by the front of his suit and shook him, laughing all the while. Off to his side Bernard was pinned to the ground and he glared up at Baldric, seething with anger and wondering what could have possibly possessed his usually calm and collected older brother to shoot wildly at complete strangers.
Before Baldric could even begin to question the man he felt a fist slam into his stomach and the wind leave his lungs. Struggling for breath he tried to speak,
“How, how,” He was too busy gasping to get the words out, “How dare you!” He finally managed. The burly bully who had punched him still had a firm grip on his suit and shook him again.
“Excuse me, monsieur but ow dare you. Shooting blindly into ze night. You are lucky I am quite forgiving, when zere’s money involved.” Charbonne noted their tuxedos, which while dusty and pitted with sweat stains were no doubt Hawkes originals. These men were not your average worn out travellers, they had money somewhere and Charbonne’s favourite past time was extortion.
Baldric shook his head, “I have none. If I did do you think I would be traveling on foot?” Rage made him shake, if there had been any light out Charbonne would have noted his face turning flush and the wild light in his eyes but it was far too dark out and Charbonne was far too eager to apprehend those good for nothing Godhold siblings. The men were in rough shape, doubtless from the looks of them they had already been the result of a highway robber so he turned instead to his bullies and nodded. Their faces lit up in large, stupid grins and the beatings began.
Baldric and Bernard were left on the side of the road bruised from head to toe as the twig man bested them for what they thought was the second time that day. Too bruised to move the brothers leaned against the wooden fence and fell into a fitful sleep, fighting the cold of the country air.
“It’s not fair!” Jasmine was wailing as Theresa rushed her back to the room.
“Hush! Keep your mouth shut, no one else needs to hear of this.” The crowd of drunken bar patrons were all staring and Theresa hauled her younger sister up the stairs by her hand as she fought to head back down. Once up in the room Theresa pushed her onto the bed and locked the door behind them.
“Enough Jasmine.”
“But it’s not fair. Charles told me, he told me that I can’t do that sort of thing so why is he allowed to? Let me go!” She rose to head back down the stairs but Theresa shoved her back down.
“You’re right. It’s not fair but Charles is a man. It’s… different. Just as dangerous but in a different way. For Charles’ sake keep your big mouth shut.” Theresa herself was shocked enough that she didn’t feel like showing any patience towards Jasmine’s meltdown. That Charles was a bit of a poof Theresa had known since his early childhood years, though he somehow managed to keep it hidden from their parents. That he would stoop so low as Benjamin Balston was another matter entirely. Theresa paced about the room trying to settle her racing thoughts while Jasmine sobbed hard into the pillows. Finally there came a knock and Theresa opened the door to find Benjamin Balston standing before her.
“Theresa, lovely as always.” He said, removing his top hat and bowing slightly. There was no sarcasm in his voice but Theresa, only too aware of her towering height; bowlegs, large feet and generally lanky appearance could not take the compliment.
“Nice to see you don’t talk with your mouth full.” She responded.
“May I come in?” He stepped across the threshold without waiting for an answer, “I understand our family’s unfortunate history together, I was very sorry to hear about your mother and father by the way, but you must understand that I am not my brothers.”
“Oh you are most definitely not your brothers. I doubt Baldric or Bernard would ever be caught in the position I have just found you in.”
Benjamin smiled at the double entendre, “You are most certainly right. But you must also know that I do truly care for your brother. I have missed our time apart greatly. Charles has told me everything, how you have had to flee London to come and live at the country cottage. I also know that you have not been back there since Jasmine was in diapers and so don’t rightly remember where it is. Come stay with me tonight at my villa, I will take you there in the morning.”
Before Theresa could answer Charles came bursting into the room, “We have to go!” He grabbed his sister’s suitcases and headed for the door.
“What is it?” Benjamin and Theresa asked in unison.
“Monsieur Charbonne! He’s here with his debt collectors.” Theresa’s face blanched. At record speed the siblings were packed and out the door only to come to a halt at the foot of the stairs. Charbonne was just entering the pub, the massive muscular forms of his debt collectors shuffling in behind him.
“Quick, back up!” They raced back up the stairs as stealthily as they could but they were not quick enough. A cry sounded behind them as Charbonne and his debt collectors upended chairs and tables as they charged across the room. The Godhold siblings and Benjamin Balston slammed the door behind them and threw the bolt.
“This way!” Benjamin yelled, throwing open the window. He climbed down and landed lightly on the roof of the porch, then down into the street below. Theresa was right behind him, throwing her suitcase down first. She landed, stumbled and was saved from falling by Benjamin.
Jasmine was next. She threw her suitcase out; behind her in the room Charbonne was beating on the door, trying to break the bolt and demanding to be let inside. Panicking Jasmine hesitated, while Charles panicked and pushed her. She tumbled out the window onto the porch roof and kept rolling. Benjamin, ever the gentleman, tried to catch her but that was like a baboon trying to catch a manatee and they both collapsed into a heap on the ground. Charles was right behind them, landing to the side and picking up the suitcase. Benjamin put his fingers to his lips and whistled. A second later his own carriage came around the corner and they all clambered in and were off. Up above there was a large crash and Charbonne’s face appeared in the window.
“Down, to the streets!” He yelled, disappearing. The siblings were long gone into the dark when Charbonne came sprinting out of the pub. At break neck speed Benjamin ordered the carriage out of the village and down the dark country roads to his humble country villa.
They waited at the villa with bated breath but after an hour the debt collectors had yet to come. With a round of red wine to calm their nerves Benjamin sent a servant to retrieve the Godhold’s carriage and put them to bed in his luxurious guest rooms.
