19.1

"Miss Wychwood, er, Judith," Alice whispered, although it was unlikely that anyone would over hear them. "Is the balcony getting closer perhaps?"

The disconcertingly ethereal voice of Miss Wychwood hovered somewhere off to Alice's right, not quite on the same ledge, but then again, ghosts did not require even the insubstantial support of its narrow width. "Only a few steps further," came the encouraging reply. "Just don't look down."

Now Alice had certainly had no intention of looking down. When she had begun her perilous journey out the window, one promise she made herself was that she would certainly not look down. Alice knew what lay below, as she had glanced out the extremely untidy windows many times, but she had no real desire to remind herself of that geography without the safety of a dirty windowpane between her and it.

But a funny thing happens to the most obedient child when told not to do something.

Alice looked down and immediately dizziness overwhelmed her. The ground, which had seemed so near by from the safety behind the glass, now seemed perilously distant. After all the falls I have taken, after all the adventures I have survived, Alice thought somewhat nervously, perhaps I should think nothing at all of falling into the garden below.

"Miss Alice!" cried Miss Wychwood. "Take my hand!"

Alice craned her neck around to the side where Miss Wychwood hovered anxiously. Without a thought she stretched her hand out to her friend and clasped hers. The two inched along the ledge without drawing another breath it seemed, but Alice could feel the dizziness that had attacked her subsiding.

The balcony loomed ahead like a shimmering oasis in the desert. Alice found herself as thirsty for it as a camel who had been on a very long holiday indeed and had only had a very dry bread for tea with no butter at all.

"Just a few more steps," Miss Wychwood encouraged.

Alice tried to think nothing at all and concentrated only on the sound of her friend's voice and the touch of her hand. Step, step, step. Minute movements, but progress, surely, Alice told herself.

"We're there!" Miss Wychwood cried. "Alice, you're safe!"

Alice looked down and they were indeed at the balustrade for the balcony. She let go of Judith's hand to grab the railing and ever so carefully boosted herself over it. Trembling, Alice nonetheless found herself filled with triumph. "We did it!" she cried with a voice that very nearly sounded like a sob.

Miss Wychwood clapped her hands with joy. "Indeed!"

"Judith!" Alice said, her eyes wide and mouth open. "I could feel your hand!"

They both gasped with surprise and delight and embraced at once.

Spirited Away

A roguish charmer has lured your narrator away for some faro and lemonade. Let us hope his intentions are not going to lead to scandal.

18.10

Stephenson looked at Lizzie with a rather uncomfortably penetrating gaze. "Yes. A young English woman named Alice whom we met under the most remarkable circumstances and then almost as quickly, ah -- " he paused, searching for the right word.

"Then we lost her," the one called Bertie said with a jolly laugh that did not suit Stephenson's sudden look of consternation. "We had barely gotten to know the two delightful young ladies when poor Alice was whisked away most precipitously."

"And we had every reason to suspect foul play," Stephenson added darkly, his eyes flashing anger. "One minute she was there, the next -- poof!"

"Well, we gave that suspicious little man Tricheor a good natter," Hugh said with a decided nod. "A bit of the havey-cavey about him, but he was trembling so, it was not possible he could have been behind such a daring caper."

"And this Alice," Lizzie said as calmly as she could manage. "She was English?"

"Indeed," Hugh said, but Stephenson broke in.

"Yes, a very nice young English woman, a bit over her head, but quite plucky for all that."

"Did you learn her last name?" Lizzie asked, her tone as careless as she could manage.

"You did, did you not?" Hugh said, turning to Stephenson who looked somewhat careless himself.

"Yes, I think so," Reggie continued to look as unconcerned as possible, infuriating Lizzie, who nonetheless sought to not betray that feeling.

"And?" She managed to keep her question succinct. She could not help noticing Tilney's close attention to her, however.

"I believe," Reggie Stephenson drawled, "that her family name was -- Mangrove."

Lizzie could not contain her gasp. "My long lost cousin!" she exclaimed.

Tilney gaped at her in surprise. "Your cousin?"

Stephenson's eyes seemed to want to burn through her words into her very brain. "You know the young lady," he said with a coldness that seemed quite at odds with his previous excitement.

Bless him, Lizzie thought, he is quite smitten. "Indeed, I believe that sounds like my dear cousin Alice, daughter of the late Lord Mangrove. She and -- er, she had been kidnapped from her father's funeral and spirited away."

"She has been spirited away again," Stephenson said with considerable passion. "We were hoping to find her when we ran across word of Tilney's plight."

"Damme, man. We must rescue Bennett's cuz," Tilney broke in. "It's the only thing to do."

Lizzie shot him a grateful look. "Tell us what you know," she begged Stephenson as the others gathered around. "We must find Alice!" Her heart warmed with excitement at the thought they she might be reunited with her dear cousin soon.

18.9

It was bad enough to suddenly be blinking in bright daylight after the darkness of the coach, but Lizzie found it impossible to bear Stephenson's scrutiny with equanimity. Fortunately a distraction occurred while she helped brace up Tilney.

"Reggie, we've brought him around once more," another young man cried from the front of the carriage where the horses stamped their hooves with what seemed to Lizzie's fanciful mind to be Gallic indignation.

Perhaps it was just her amplification of the bewildered scowl on poor Armand's face. As he hove into view supported on either side, she could hear him muttering a string of words that were unfamiliar to the young woman until he got to "fils" and "chienne" and then she turned away quickly to cough.

"Bertie! Brackley!" Tilney cried with delight. "I say, what a wonder."

"Tilney, old boy! 'Pon rep--did we shoot you? Heavens!" Bertie looked ready to drop the staggering Armand in his eagerness to see his friend, while Brackley gaped open-mouthed.

"Poor Armand!" Lizzie said. "How could you frighten him so?"

Stephenson looked at her rather more sharply. "I say, Bennett--"

"What the devil are you all doing here?" Tilney cut in, much to Lizzie's relief. "Aren't you all supposed to be on the sunny strands? Hugh!" he added, as another young man appeared leading their horses.

"Tare 'n hounds! Tilney, you've survived!" Hugh dropped the reins of the horses and made ready to clap his friend on the shoulder, until he noticed how Tilney winced. "Good god, man--did we wing you?"

Tilney laughed. "Anyone else along for the ride? I don't want to have to retell the tale each time."

"Eliot meant to come," Stephenson said with a familiar sort of lazy drawl, "But he caught a cold."

"He caught a Constance, you mean," Bertie said, crowing with laughter.

"As you have guessed, Bennett," Tilney said, the usual lopsided grin on his face, "All my friends are quite mad. You will have expected no less."

Stephenson laughed heartily at this. "That rotter Eliot has betrayed the brotherhood and fallen in love with a most unlikely lass."

"French, you mean?" Tilney said, an eyebrow arched.

"Luckily no," Hugh said. "Sir Eliot managed to come all the way to the land of the frogs and fall in love with an English woman."

"Reggie lost his heart, too!" Bertie said. "But fortunately he lost the girl as well."

Stephenson's looks glowered darkly and, for a moment, Lizzie thought he might truly explode in anger, but the look passed and he laughed genuinely enough, though the sound rang a little hollow in her ears. "Yes, the illness and the cure in one fell swoop."

"Right," Hugh sniffed. "That's why we had to set off in pursuit of her so quickly."

"I thought you were running to my aid," Tilney laughed.

"Well, we heard about you on the way," Stephenson admitted. "But we had set off in search of poor Alice."

"Alice!" Lizzie cried. Could it be--?

18.8

Lizzie could not tell what astonished her more: Tilney's peremptory announcement as he kissed her hand or the gang of miscreants who had appeared outside the carriage. It was impossible to see their faces as the sunlight behind them beamed brightly into the dark interior. The brigands' voices were a cacophony assaulting Lizzie's ears and she felt oddly bereft of breath.

Despite her confident words to Tilney, Lizzie feared that this was indeed the end of their extraordinary journey. They had been so fortunate -- dodging bullets and French magistrates, not to mention her daily charade. All good things must come to an end, Lizzie thought as she blinked into the bright light, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

Tilney's grip on her hand had not loosened and Lizzie felt a flush of happiness as she heard his words echo again in her memory. If we die at the hands of these brigands, she thought, at least I will have had one moment of truly exquisite joy. She looked back at Tilney's face and admired once more the familiar lines of it. Though still touched by his injury and loss of blood, there was not a more handsome face in all the world, Lizzie thought with sudden certainty. Every line of it captured her heart, every imperfection only added to her delight that this man should say he loved her. If this were the end, then it was all worth it. She had found the man who had won her heart.

To her surprise, however, Tilney was staring at the brigands crowded outside the door—and he was smiling!

Lizzie turned to regard the fearsome creatures and saw that they were smiling, too. Her jaw fell open. What could this mean?

"Tilney! 'Pon rep, but we had a devil of a time finding you," shouted one young lad who seemed not at all sinister now that Lizzie could see him clearly.

"Lawks, but you're the very last person I expected to see kicking up a lark among the froggers. Damme, Stephenson! We thought you were the worst sort of highway men." Tilney laughed heartily. "Bennett and I thought we were done for."

"I landed a facer on that devilish driver of yours," Stephenson said, his face glowing with pride. "A regular highwayman couldn't have done any better, I warrant. You should have seen us go at it wild."

"Oh, poor Armand," Lizzie said, her sympathy going out to the innocent driver.

"Well, I fear we have had a bit of a scrape and got the wrong handle on the basket, I think," Stephenson said rather confusingly. "Aren't you being kidnapped, old man?"

"Kidnapped?" Tilney said, exchanging a look with Lizzie, evidently as befuddled as she. "You're too ripe and ready by half, lads. We've had a few scraped of late, but never kidnapped."

"Come out here into the light so we can see you, Tilney," Stephenson insisted, grabbing hold of the young man's arm and making him grunt with pain.

"Leave him alone," Lizzie shouted, "He's been shot!"

"By one of us?" Stephenson said with alarm. "Good heavens, old man. Sorry about that."

Tilney laughed, but Lizzie saw the strain on his face. "No, this was another fiasco." But he leaned forward and with Lizzie's help, was able to step out into the sunlight.

"Now who's this friend," Stephenson said with evident curiosity as he scrutinized Lizzie's face. "Say don't I know you?"

Lizzie quailed.

18.7

The sounds of the struggle on the driver's box continued. Tilney and Lizzie trained their attention upon the unseen tussle, awaiting the outcome. They did not have long to wait. A cry of pain and then a loud thud came as a body fell from the carriage.

"But who has fallen?" Lizzie could not resist asking, though of course they could not know. The hoof beats surrounding them seemed ever louder, a sinister sound.

"We must have something with which to defend ourselves!" Tilney hissed.

"You are not even strong enough to do so and you must not endanger your health," Lizzie said with equal spirit. "Be sensible, Tilney."

"Sensible!" Tilney looked daggers at her, then turned back to rifling through the picnic basket in a vain attempt to find some kind of weapon. He hefted the wine bottle. It would have to do.
"We're slowing," Lizzie said.

Tilney's face darkened. "Stay behind me."

"If they open the door on this side—" Lizzie began.

"Lizzie, do as I say," Tilney said.

It was not so much the anger in his voice as the fear in his eyes that stifled her words of protest. They could hear the voices of men as the riders gathered around the carriage. The team pulling the carriage were slowing their steps with an abundance of snorts and seeming surprise as the driver shouted, "Ho!"

"Lizzie," Tilney said, his gaze on the door beside him, "I do not know what will happen next."

Lizzie touched his hand lightly. "It will be all right, Tilney. We’ve been in a tight spot before."

"I—I don’t know," Tilney said quietly. "Things are different now."

"How so?" Lizzie asked, her voice soft in the suddenly quiet interior.

"Oh, hang it, Bennett, don't make me say it."

"Say what, Tilney?"

Just then they heard a pistol shot. Lizzie clutched Tilney's hand. Tilney grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. "Damme, Bennett. If I must die, I will not die without saying how much I love you."

The door of the carriage flew open and the two lovers gasped, their eyes dazzled by the sunlight.

18.6

Lizzie turned round on the seat with alarm, frightened that the next shot might harm Tilney or herself. "I am not certain," she said, attempting not to sound as breathless as she felt, "but it appears that we may in fact be under fire."

"I supposed it might be so," Tilney drawled as another shot rang out. "Remind me not to travel again with a losel like you, Bennett."

Lizzie looked at him, aghast that he could be so nonchalant about another perilous situation. His crooked grin, however, charged her wits with much needed stimulation. "I have a terrible feeling that we have much more to fear this time. These must be brigands, judging from Armand's pace."

"We shall see," Tilney said, eyes closed once more. "There is little to be done until either we escape the peril or the brigands halt poor Armand's desperate measures."

"How can you be so cool," Lizzie asked, though her castigation was more habitual than actual. She craned her neck in vain to see if the furious hoofbeats were in fact coming closer as she feared. Out the curtained window she could glimpse the legs of an approaching horse.

"They're beside us!"

Tilney sat up then. "Damme! Why did I not carry a pistol?"

"No matter now," Lizzie said, trying to gather her thoughts into something productive.

"I must protect you!" Tilney's eye looked fierce. Lizzie had not seen such an expression on his face and while she worried that it would fatigue the poor man, she could not help feeling a sense of comfort that she had such a noble friend beside her in an hour of need. Gone was the extra burden of worry for her young cousin -- poor Alice! Where could she be now? Surely safe, Lizzie told herself with some guilt, fearing it had been far too long since she had given her cousin even the most perfunctory passing thought.

Yet oh, what a relief in such a dramatic moment to know that she did not face the terror alone, but with a stalwart companion by her side who thought as much to protect her as she did him. "What do we have to use as a weapon?"

"Fiend seize it, Bennett! Take cover, won't you?" Tilney said, his irritation plain on his face and in his voice.

"And where do you propose I take cover, Tilney?" Lizzie shot back as the drumming of hooves around them grew. "We are in the devil's own scrape this time and there's little chance of getting out of it. We shall have to play by our wits assuming they give us the opportunity."

Tilney looked at her, eyes wide. It was impossible to tell whether he was more astonished or angry. For a moment the decision seemed to hang in the balance and then he gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Damme, Bennett, but you are a larksome lass."

He looked ready to say more, at least it seemed to Lizzie there was a peculiar shine to his eyes, but just then they heard a loud thump as someone or something landed on the driver's box and the sound of fisticuffs emerged. The two of them exchanged glances.

The marauders were on the carriage!