The Highwayman Came Riding Page 10

  “Good evening, Mr. Davies.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kenneth Davies did inherit Elias’s job. When Mr. Scorsby handed him the post on Thursday, he told him it would be his last trip to Mitton with the post.

  “The Davies boy applied for your job,” Mr. Scorsby said in a self-satisfied tone. “I’ve hired him. He’s about as formidable as a little girl, but at least he can aim a blow. This is your last round.”

  “Oh.” Elias stuffed the post into his satchel.

  “Don’t be getting held up out of spite now, boy, or you won’t be getting your last wages.”

  Elias said nothing and departed. Feeling guilty and uncertain what he would say, he did not stop to see Mr. Sweeton while in Mitton. Instead, he left the post for the last time with Mr. Skeffington, who flirted liberally with him, and, since there was no return post for Kitwick, Elias took his leave with a light satchel but a heavy step. He was halfway to Kitwick when a familiar voice called to him from the roadside.

  “Eli, there you are. I’ve been waiting all day.”

  “Can’t have been, or you’d’ve seen me on the way to Mitton.”

  “I took a break. You must’ve passed then.”

  “A break from sitting and watching?”

  “It’s exhausting work, I needed a nap. I had a dream about you.”

  Elias’s cheeks burned. “Lazy ponce.”

  Augustus dismounted and came to stand next to Elias where he had stopped short in the middle of the road. Lord Nelson gave a half-hearted hiss.

  “How’re things?” Augustus asked.

  “Someone else will be walking this road from now on,” Elias replied, getting to the point. “They’ve found my replacement. He’s got air for brains, but he likes boys, so you might have success with him too.” He was not going to sing Kenneth Davies’s praises to Augustus. Besides, unless Augustus brought up maths, he might never know Kenneth Davies’s true colors and he would be just another lisping whore to him. Which was fine by Elias.

  “You think this is a game, do you?” Augustus demanded.

  Of course it was. “For you.”

  “No it’s not. Idiot.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t just go chasing after any post boy who passes by, do you know that?”

  “I do now.”

  “I went after you at first because you were different. I couldn’t tell anything about you at first glance since I was up in the forest and couldn’t even see your face because your hat was so low. All I could see was that you walked slowly and kind of funny.”

  “I walk funny?” Elias growled. This he had never heard.

  “Well, it makes sense, since—”

  “What do you mean, funny?”

  “Halting. Kind of jerky. It’s not fluid like most people. And you have a hand out all the time as though you might fall at any moment. I thought you had something wrong with your back or legs at first.”

  “And then you realized it’s just my eyes that’re fucked.”

  “Yes. You walk pretty much normally when I lead you.”

  “Because I’m not worried about smacking into something or tripping over something, as you’re decent at telling me in advance when I need to watch out for anything in my way.” If Elias did not trust the guide competence of the person who led him, as with Mr. Sweeton, he walked about as slowly as he did on his own. With Bess, he could run without fear if he wanted.

  “I am?” Augustus sounded pleased.

  “Yes. Better than most who’ve never had instruction or who aren’t Bess.”

  “I tried to think about what it must be like for you, after our first meeting. When I got home, I blindfolded myself and didn’t take it off for a day. I didn’t leave the house because I knew I must look stupid and thought it would be dangerous besides. It was really difficult. I had to memorize everything, touch everything, hear everything. I know it’s not the same as what you live, but it was an introduction.”

  Elias did not know what to say. No one had ever done something like that for him. He felt strange.

  “Have you ever thought about using a cane?” Augustus asked.

  “What for? You just said you know my legs and back are fine.”

  “Yes, but you could use it to feel the ground in front of you, so you know what’s at least a few steps ahead.”

  Elias stood very still. A cane was an exceptional idea. Why had he never thought of that? Why had Bess never thought of that? Bess thought of everything.

  “I don’t have a cane.”

  “But if you did, would you try using it?”

  “I could.”

  “Good. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I know where I could get one for you.”

  “I haven’t much money,” Elias warned. “I don’t earn much, and what I do earn I use for pianoforte lessons.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” The way Augustus spoke, Elias knew he did not expect payment.

  “Don’t steal me a cane,” Elias snapped.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Don’t buy me one either.”

  “Can’t promise you I won’t.”

  “You’re so poor you need to steal from lowly post boys.”

  “I don’t need to steal anything,” Augustus said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You mean to present me with a gift?”

  “Consider it repayment for your clothes.”

  “I hardly think one stick can replace—”

  “It’ll be a start.”

  “The extent of your generosity is catastrophically underwhelming.”

  “May I walk with you?” Augustus asked suddenly.

  “Where?”

  “Just along the road.”

  “To Kitwick?”

  “Not all the way. Just part of the way.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the chance again.”

  Elias was disappointed. Had he hoped Augustus would visit him?

  “Fine,” Elias said, sticking out his elbow. Augustus hooked his arm through it and clicked to his horse. They began walking.

  “Don’t look so sad,” Augustus said. “I don’t mean that I’ll never see you again. I just meant you won’t have reason to walk on this road anymore.”

  “That’s not true,” Elias said.

  “But you lost your job.”

  “I have a friend in Mitton. What if I wanted to visit him?” He might as well tell Augustus.

  “A friend?” Augustus asked. He sounded nervous, and this gave Elias great satisfaction. “What sort of friend?”

  “The tall, strong, deep-voiced variety. He’s a redcoat.”

  “You? Friends with a redcoat? I thought you were too much of a delinquent for that.”

  “A delinquent? I’ve been nothing but the victim in your debaucheries.”

  “When you kissed me?”

  Elias grumbled but made no coherent argument.

  “Or,” Augustus continued, “what about when you climbed on top of me and—”

  “All right, all right, shut up. I’m debauched too.”

  “Damn right you are, you little pederast.” Augustus’s tone was fond.

  “Neither of us are old enough for that.”

  “You know what I meant, you pedantic sod.”

  “I am not a sod.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Fuck off. You’re the second man who’s wanted to get into my clothes in the past week. You lot bore me.”

  “The second?” Elias enjoyed how tense Augustus’s voice was. Was he jealous?

  “Yes. That redcoat has it bad for me.”

  “Christ. Have you kissed him?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have?”

  “Isn’t that what I said?”

  “Is he better than me?”

  Elias snorted. “It’s not hard.”

  “Yes, it is,” Augustus said, his voice low, and Elias knew there was a double entendre in there somewhere.
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  “Insecure little rake.”

  They continued in silence for a bit until Augustus slowed to a stop. “I should turn back if I want to make it home before dark,” he said.

  “As you wish,” Elias said, pulling free and continuing on his way.

  “Wait!” Augustus cried. “I won’t see you for a while.”

  “Yes, we’ve covered that,” Elias said, stopping. He felt lonely, though Augustus was but a few yards from him.

  “I’ll be in Town for a few weeks, but then I want to come to Kitwick.”

  “Lord help you. You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

  “How’s that?”

  “No one wants to come to Kitwick. What business have you there?”

  Augustus came to stand in front of Elias. “You,” he said softly.

  Elias’s breath caught in his throat. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not exactly open for business.”

  “Not like that, stupid.”

  “Don’t you have other things to do? Blind men to hold up? Babies to make cry? Kittens to drown?”

  “They’ll have to wait.”

  “Hmm.” Elias’s heart pounded. Augustus wanted to visit him in Kitwick? Did he really feel so strongly about things, or did he have reasons other than Elias drawing him there?

  “Will you see your redcoat friend while I’m gone?” Augustus asked. He touched Elias’s cravat, and Elias’s stomach plummeted to his knees.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you like him?” Augustus murmured. Elias could feel his breath on his cheek.

  “How rude of you to ask.”

  “But do you?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “And you let him kiss you?”

  Elias sighed. It was not that simple. “I felt compelled. And I didn’t hate it.”

  “Do you feel compelled to kiss me?”

  “With you standing so close, breathing in my face, playing with my cravat? Yes. But in a different way.” Elias felt his way to Augustus’s shoulders. “Is anyone watching?”

  “No. We’re all alone.”

  Elias drew their lips together. Now that they had done this a few times, he had a good sense of the proportions of Augustus’s body and hit his target on the first try. Augustus put his hands on Elias’s waist and drew him closer. Remembering what Mr. Sweeton had done to him, Elias gently took Augustus’s lower lip between his teeth. Augustus tensed, then relaxed, emitting a soft, almost maidenly sound from the back of his throat. Elias’s trousers suddenly felt too tight. Lord Nelson wedged between their feet, stood on his hind legs, and pushed against Elias’s thighs with his front paws, as though to interrupt their kiss. Elias nudged him away.

  When they broke apart, Elias was buzzing with energy, flustered, hot, and aching.

  “My father owns an inn in Kitwick,” Elias murmured. “We rent rooms.” Did he really just say that?

  “That’s convenient,” Augustus said. He sounded like he was half-asleep. “Though perhaps I shouldn’t stay where your father can get at me. What’s the name of the inn?”

  “He won’t care,” Elias said. “It’s the Peach and Pear, one of only two inns in town. The other’s the Prissy Peacock. It doesn’t have a tavern.”

  “That’s fine. I can’t hold my liquor anyway.” Elias snorted, but Augustus did not offer excuses.

  Augustus let Elias return home with most of his clothes. He took his cravat because, he said, he wanted a memento while he was away. Elias did not mind.

  “I’ll be there in three weeks at most,” Augustus said. “But now, I must go. The sun’s getting low and it looks like rain. Here, take my cloak. I’ll get it back when I’m in Kitwick. Farewell.” He draped his cloak over Elias’s shoulders, gave his elbow one last squeeze, swung up into his saddle, and rode away with a crisp tlot-tlot.

  Elias walked home and got drenched in the early September rain, but cared nothing about it. He was still smiling when he walked into the tavern. Lord Nelson, mewing miserably, retreated to a corner to lick himself dry with his rasping tongue.

  “What’re you grinning about, little shit?” Bess asked. She always greeted him with a swear if the tavern was empty: it was their secret code. “You’re soaked!”

  “Don’t care,” Elias said, taking a seat at the nearest table. His hair and Augustus’s cloak were dripping wet. Bess hurried to sit across from him.

  “Where’d you get that cloak? It looks expensive!”

  Augustus had probably stolen it from some rich man. Elias did not feel the need to tell her this. He shrugged out of the cloak.

  “I met a gentleman on my walk,” he said.

  “A gentleman? Who gave you his cloak? That’s good craftsmanship that is. And fur-lined!”

  “He was worried about my delicate constitution, I think.”

  “What delicate constitution?” Then, “Where’s your cravat?”

  “Got hot early in the day, took it off,” Elias improvised. “Dropped it on the road, and it was gone forever.”

  Bess seemed to accept this, for she did not question him further about his cravat. “Was the gentleman interested in you?” she asked eagerly.

  “Perhaps.” He was not going to tell her about their kisses just yet. What if Augustus did not keep his word and Elias never saw him again?

  “Perhaps?”

  “Interested enough to give me his cloak for a few weeks. He said he’ll be in Kitwick by October and collect it then.”

  “Oh my. Why’s he coming to Kitwick?”

  “Thinks it’s charming, or something,” Elias said.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Augustus.” There was no way he could tell Bess Augustus was the highwayman who had robbed him thrice. She would flay Augustus alive if he ever showed his face at the Peach and Pear.

  “God, that’s awful fancy, isn’t it? No wonder he has such a nice cloak. What’s his surname?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “How mysterious. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Will you berate him as you did poor Mr. Sweeton?”

  “‘Poor Mr. Sweeton’ indeed. I shan’t say a thing against your Augustus if he proves honorable, I assure you.”

  “I’m so glad I have you as my guard dog, darling sister.”

  “My bite is worse than my bark.”

  “So say the men of Kitwick.”

  “You smarmy fuck,” Bess said sweetly.

  “Bachelor fare.”

  “Blind bugger.”

  “Sighted harlot.”

  Bess leaned on Elias’s arm. “Ah, dear brother,” she said. “I can’t wait to see you carried off by some dashing toff.”

  “I suppose I’ll be waiting all my life to see that, won’t I?”

  Bess laughed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Now that he had no trips to Mitton every other day, Elias was confined to Kitwick, where he was slowly losing his mind. He’d had to resume regular duties at the Peach and Pear, which meant arranging stools and tables (Bess swept, for unless Elias swept barefoot, which he hated, or got down on his hands and knees and felt the floor, he had no way of knowing whether the old worn boards were clean), drawing drinks, and bantering with patrons. Of these chores, only the banter provided him with any sense of fulfillment, for the alcoholics of Kitwick were fond of being insulted. His father did not like Lord Nelson in the tavern while patrons were there, but sometimes Elias sneaked him behind the bar anyway for company. Elias still attended pianoforte lessons with Mrs. Brown, paid for with his dwindling stash of coin, to which he added small tips at the end of every shift. He would have to stop his lessons soon.

  Kenneth stopped by once more to chat with Elias, this time passing on a beverage and opting for a chilled peach compote Bess had made earlier that week, served with cream. Lord Nelson was scarce that evening, so Elias almost appreciated Kenneth’s company.

  “This is delicious,” Kenneth said. “My compliments to the cook.”

  “I’ll tell Bess,” Eli
as said, wiping his fingers on the cloth he hooked into the belt of his apron. He was always putting his fingers in things. The tavern was loud as ever, so he had to lean in close across the bar to hear Kenneth’s soft voice.

  “Everyone has a drink, why don’t you take a seat?” Kenneth offered. There was a scraping sound as though he had pulled out the stool beside him.

  What the hell, why not? Elias walked around the bar, trailing his hand over the polished wood, and felt his way to the stool at Kenneth’s side. Bess, who was serving, could cover for him for a short while, anyway.

  “How are you enjoying being a post boy?” Elias asked once he was seated.

  “It’s tiring, but it’s not terrible. It’s nice to get out of Kitwick, you know?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And I was able to visit my old friend, Mr. Sweeton. Turns out he wasn’t getting my letters. Perhaps they were in one of the bundles that were stolen. He was very happy to catch up.”

  Elias fiddled with a button on his waistcoat. That was good, was not it? “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “He asked after you, you know.”

  “Did he?”

  “As I hadn’t seen you since before he last saw you, I couldn’t tell him anything. He said you were friends?”

  “Oh, er, well, we spoke on occasion.”

  Kenneth shifted his weight noisily and his spoon scraped the bottom of his bowl. Elias gritted his teeth.

  “He spoke very well of you,” Kenneth prompted.

  “Indeed?”

  “I believe he holds you in high regard.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I was just wondering, Mr. Burgess, if…”

  “Yes?”

  “If we know Mr. Sweeton in the same manner.”

  “I doubt that very much, Mr. Davies.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am certain.”

  “It’s all right if you know him that way.”

  “I do not.”

  “I won’t hold it against you.”

  “Mr. Davies, if I understand well in the abstract at least to what you make allusion, I promise you I do not know Mr. Sweeton as you know him. Upon my honor, I have never known a man as you know Mr. Sweeton.”

  “I see. Well, do you want to get to know him better?”

  Elias had no words. He fiddled with his button so hard he accidentally plucked it from his waistcoat. Damn. Bess would give him an earful for the extra work he had just made her. He tucked the button into his apron pocket.