Part Five

"I would climb any mountain
Sail across a stormy sea,
If that what it takes me, baby,
To tell how much you mean to me.
And I guess it must be the woman in you
That brings out the man in me
You know I can't help myself
You're all in the world to me.
And it feels like the first time
It feels like the very first time..."

"It Feels Like the First Time"---Foreigner

*****

How kindly, how delicately, and tactfully had Mr. Bromford Bownes taken her away from Tony. The others fancied a carriage ride, he had said, along the Old Port Road, to see the moonrise over the sea. She was shivering as he led her gently away, and he placed his own fur-lined cloak about her shoulders, and when she suddenly burst into tears, he soothed her, putting his handkerchief into her hand as he put her up onto the perch of his phaeton,

"There, there," he said. "You have had a shock, poor sweeting. I dare not think of what that fellow might have done had I not arrived when I did. The coarse brute! Who on earth was he, my dear? If he has done you harm I shall have satisfaction of him, be certain of it!"

"Oh, noooo!" Lizzie wailed, loosing a flood of fresh tears, and burying her face in his handkerchief. But then she caught her breath suddenly as his whip snapped and his pair of blacks started forward at a run. Instinctively she grabbed at his arm to keep from being thrown from the carriage by the sudden violent motion. He laughed, and Lizzie felt a chill to her very bones at the sound, for she did not like it at all.

"That's it, my little darling, you hold onto Brom!" he said in a voice she liked even less than his laugh, and pulling the handkerchief away from her eyes she looked up at his face. She gasped at the evil glint in his eyes, and even in the darkness she could see that his smile was wicked. Then she realized in a horrified instant that the rear seat of the phaeton was empty! They were alone!

"Mr. Bownes!" she demanded in the most assertive tone she could manage, which, unfortunately emerged as rather more of a panicked squeak. "You will return us back this instant! I do not know what you mean by this, but I am not at all entertained! Oh!" she shrieked as he cracked the whip again and the pair leapt forward with a fresh burst of speed, and a pace that had been previously perilous now become positively breakneck.

"Dear Lizzie," he crooned, and she felt his arm encircle her waist. He then took up his rein once more in that hand, effectively holding her trapped between his arms. "But it is such a lovely night for a drive!"

In fact it was not, Lizzie noted. The wind was blowing nastily, it had grown quite cold, and the sky was very dark, as if clouds covered the moon. She had her wits about her now, the shock of seeing Tony and the distress of quarrelling with him, all of her befuddlement of emotions had left her with the realization that she had allowed herself to be abducted by a man who was no gentleman, and that it was not enough she should be in fear of her life, hurtling down a darkened road at a dangerous velocity, but that should she be so fortunate as to be spared a fatal accident, a dreadful fate must still await her, for Bromford Bownes could not mean to return her as he had found her in any event!

"Don't look so frightened, my dear," he said with a laugh. "You're not worried about our meeting with that Headless Helmsman fellow, are you? Truly, you mustn't fret. If he should rear his ugly…ha ha! I say that's rather good! If he should appear, my dear one, Brom will see him off forthwith, depend upon it!"

Her mind was racing; her heart was pounding. She must save herself, but she could not think what to do. Oh, God, Lizzie thought. Oh, Tony!

*****

That bastard Bromford Bownes had taken her away and he had stood there and let her go. He had failed. He had lost her. It was all his own fault.

"Tony!" His sister Lucy greeted him when he found her. "Goodness, this table looks as if it has been ravaged by a wild beast! Papa gave orders I was to bring him back a pudding if any had been left, and if I wait much longer none will be. Mama did not hold any back for him, as punishment for the turnips and apples I am sure. Here, take this," she ordered him, thrusting under his arm one of his Mama's enormous, round plum puddings, wrapped in a white cloth. "Why are you wearing your coat?"

"Where are Daisy and Tildy?" Tony inquired crossly. "It is time to go home."

"There are dancing, dear, and its really rather early," Lucy gave him an inquiring look. "What has happened, Tony? Did you speak with Lizzie?"

"She has gone off carriage riding with that Bownes fellow and the others of her party," he said gruffly, though his eyes were pricking.

Lucy clucked. "Oh, she doesn't like him, Tony, truly. He might be handsome but there is something quite ungenuine about him and I am sure Lizzie sees it as well. I'm sure I do not know why she is behaving so badly, dearest, and I am sorry, but she cannot be in love with Mr. Bownes, I promise you."

But that need not stop her marrying the cad, Tony thought miserably, but did not say. He knew the wishes of Lizzie's father, and that although she had contrived to deceive Barnabas with Tony, she was in fact a loving and mostly obedient daughter. But surely she could not be happy with such a man as Bromford Bownes, whatever position and comforts he might be able to provide! Perhaps it was only the misguided hope of his own heart, reluctant to surrender that which it had cherished so deeply for so long, but Tony had thought, in that brief instant when he had held her in his arms that she had truly wished to soften and to come to him, and he thought that he had seen in her eyes, even as they flashed green with anger, something of his own, sweet Lizzie there, some tiny flicker of knowing that she loved him still. But what, oh what could he do?

"She came with the Mr. Hewitts and the Miss Forbushes," Lucy said, looking over the dancers that were turning happily in yet another reel. Suddenly she looked back at him, her blue eyes round with apprehension. "They are all still here! Tony, surely Lizzie would not go off with him alone---?"

*****

The Old Port Road, the devil had said, and Tony could only hope that that was indeed his intended route. Chances were in favor of it, certainly, for there were only two roads out of Haythe, the one that traveled slowly and directly through the village High Street, and the Old Port, fast and empty, hugging the coast and leading to that abandoned stretch of shingle with its old and lonely towers, the perfect destination (as Tony himself knew well) for a nefarious affair!

The Bracegirdles had arrived at the fete in the pony trap, which, once loaded down with girls and puddings had left no room for Tony, and so he had ridden post on Jonty's grey, an eye-catching but arrogantly lazy brute by the name of Salt Peter. One look at the baleful eye of the beast, looking up disdainfully from the pile of hay he was contentedly consuming convinced Tony that it would not be worth the bother, nor in the best interest of success to try and catch the carriage on horseback, and without further deliberation he took off at a run, meaning to make best use of every shortcut he had come to know in his boyhood. The Old Port Road swung in a wide curve that skirted the edge of the village before making a straight run on down to the coast, and if he was fast enough he knew he could cut them off.

Legs pumping, his greatcoat flying, he tore through two cornfields. He took the low iron gate of the churchyard in a soaring bound, like a steeplechaser in the lead, and hurtled through the graveyard, zig-zagging, dodging and leaping the tombstones like a hare outwitting the hounds, and taking his second fence in his stride. The Headless Helmsman might have risen from the earth at that very moment to begin his nightly ramble, and Tony would likely have jumped over him too, without so much as noticing.  On he galloped, heart pounding, his breath coming in great gasping gulps, and yet he felt as if he wore wings as he flew to the rescue of his one true love. He ran through the dark and the cold, fighting the gusty wind, and by and by a few large, icy drops of rain began to fall, pelting the top of his bare head and stabbing him in the eyes but still he ran. He crossed the marsh, leap-frogging from tussock to tussock, and never once missing his footing to fall into the stinking, sucking black ooze. He dashed over the wooden bridge that crossed the marsh canal, his footsteps rapid and hollow as the pounded over the planks. The goal was in sight---the road was empty! Oh, let him be in time!

He made for the road, scrambling up the short embankment and onto the roadbed that crunched beneath his feet. For a moment the moon showed itself through the clouds and the road gleamed white before him with its paving of gravel and sand and crushed cockle shells. His breath steamed and a white mist rose from the marsh, along with that foul marshy stench of rotten eggs. The rain was coming harder now; only it must more properly be called sleet, stinging his face with little sharp pellets of ice. Annoyed, he tried to raise the capes of his greatcoat over his head, but the wind kept blowing it over his face and he could see nothing. He strained to hear above the howling of the wind, and by and by he could hear the unmistakable sound of galloping hooves, and he thought he could hear as well, Lizzie's voice, crying out in protest.

The fiend! Tony could see it now, the side lanterns swinging wildly as the phaeton raced towards him. The horses were black, as befitted a villain, nearly invisibly in the darkness but for a flash of bit and bridle, the rolling white of a whip maddened eye. When they were almost upon him Tony stepped into the very center of the road, spraddle-legged, standing his ground, the capes of his greatcoat whipping about his head. How he wished he had a pistol to hand, a dagger, a sword! But no, there he stood, ready to face the foe, armed with nothing but-----

A pudding?

Indeed his Mama's plum pudding, big and heavy and round, was still tucked under his arm where Lucy had placed it! Remarkable! Prodigious! He nearly laughed aloud at the ridiculous impossibility! Ah, well, if he had but a single shot, he had better make it tell!

****

Bromford Bownes had been thoroughly enjoying his little escapade. He adored to drive fast, and this pair that had cost him a ruinous sum at Tattersall's so delighted him he now thought it well worth the cost. It was only money, after all, and what was money for but to give one pleasure, and soon enough he should have quite as much of it as he liked, he fancied. Oh the little girl was being quite tedious and refusing to come into the spirit of the thing, but in truth that rather pleased him too. It appealed to his sense of masculine power having the dear little thing mewling and squeaking and pounding away at his arm. Oh, if only she knew, she'd soon be singing another tune! Crying out his name for quite a different reason indeed! A pity the weather was not cooperating as he might have liked. The wind was blowing a bastard and he didn't like this rain a bit. No matter, he'd soon enough be in a nice warm spot. A nice, warm, wet spot—Ha ha!

"What the---!" His reverie was cut quite rudely short and he was thrown quite violently forward, nearly pitching over the dash as the pair balked sharply and set back, rearing in the traces. Lizzie screamed and ducked out from under his arm as he hauled on the reins. The pair came down, snorting and pawing, and began backing on him.

And then he saw it. Shrouded in mist, standing directly in his path, a dark figure, huge, draped in black. The capes of its garment swirled and flapped in the wind, obscuring its form. Good God…it couldn't, and yet it did, it appeared to be---headless! Where its head should have been there was only shadow, a flapping of cloth in the wind. And worse, he realized with sudden horror---under its arm, large and round and white as a corpse, it appeared to carry---its head!

He sat, transfixed with fear as the thing advanced, and the blacks tossed their heads and whinnied, still backing frantically. He didn't even notice when the girl scrambled away from him and leaped from the carriage, tumbling to the road in a heap, for the thing was coming for him, slowly but surely, and now it was raising its arm, the hand that held that loathsome corpse white head----

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he screamed as the ghastly missile came hurtling through the air. With a sickening splat it stuck him square in the forehead, sending him head over tail into the back seat of the phaeton.

The last thing he heard was an unearthly shout and a smack, as if the flat of a hand had struck the flank of one of his horses, and he screamed again, fainting dead away as the pair bolted, carrying him away down the long, empty road, into the howling black night.

*****

She was not hurt, Lizzie insisted, when he had raced to her side as she lay in a sad little bundle at the side of the road, but when Tony tried to help her to her feet he discovered that she had in fact turned her dear little ankle quite painfully when she had made her escape from the carriage.

"Oh, I deserve it!" she cried as he hoisted her into his brawny arms. "What a perfect ninny I've been!"

"No, no, my precious!" he protested. "It is I who have been a stupid, forgetful fool! Can you forgive me, Lizzie?"

"Oh, Tony!" she buried her face in the shoulder of his wet greatcoat. "Somehow I knew you would come for me! Oh, I knew!"

"Of course I came, darling. Do you think I would let that---?" he sighed, holding her close. "Oh, Lizzie, I would eat my way through an army for you!"

She giggled. "Oh, is that what I smell on your breath?"

"No," he replied, just before kissing her cold, rain wet mouth. "That would only be cheese."

*****

There was nothing to be done about it. The weather was worsening, they were some two miles from the village by road, and he dared not try to carry her back over the treacherous marsh. And so it was that they found themselves making for the lonely and windswept Smuggler's Beach, and taking shelter once again in their very own forgotten tower.

It was dry, but most forbiddingly cold, and Tony managed both to astonish himself and to impress his beloved with his feats of manly capability, when he was able to start a smoky little fire using a bit of dry seaweed and some dampish driftwood, and miraculously striking a spark from a stone. All was very right with the world indeed, Tony thought, and he might die right now a completely contented man, although, of course, he should much rather live as such!

Then taking the dainty foot in his lap, he tenderly bound up the little injured ankle, wrapping it snugly in his neckcloth, and further salving the hurt by kissing each pretty pink toe.

"How handsome you are, lieutenant," she whispered, and when he looked into her eyes he was instantaneously stirred, a hot flush spreading over his entire body, but seeming to concentrate itself most in one particular region, and he shifted a little uncomfortably. She smiled enticingly. "Will you kiss me now, do you think?" she asked him.

"I-I…dare not," he stammered. "For if I do, Lizzie, I know I shall never stop!"

"Then do not stop." She was getting to her knees, coming towards him.

"Lizzie…"

She was laughing, the prettiest sound. "By tomorrow morning," she said. "The entire village will know that something has happened. I am well and truly compromised, sir, and if you are to take the blame, you might just as well enjoy the benefit!" She came closer, putting her arms about his neck, and he felt her sweet, warm breath on his cheek. "Besides," she breathed, as she brushed her lips over his, "It is carnival night."

*****

They wanted to see each other, undressing each other slowly, breathlessly, by the light of their sputtery little fire, and although it was really rather chilly indeed, that fire, and the heat of passion seemed to provide more than adequate warmth.

Tony's heart pounded as he beheld her in her perfect glory, the loveliest, the most beautiful thing in all the world with all of that smooth delicious skin, the color of honey and cream. She was round and lush in all the right places, and in others, exquisitely slim. He feasted his eyes as she lay back, with her silver-gilt curls spilling about her, all aglow against the rich dark sable of the fur lined cloak that Bromford Bownes had so graciously provided for them.

They twined together, kissing, whispering. He marveled at having the complete freedom of her. He wanted to look everywhere, to touch everything, her beautiful bottom, her dear little tummy, the sweet nest of blonde curls that lay between her thighs. He could not get enough of the softness of her perfect breasts, stroking and kissing first one and then the other, over and over, tasting the tender pink buds, suckling them gently until she whimpered with the unbearable pleasure of it. She ran her hands over every smooth, solid, wonderfully manly inch of his body. She kissed his nipples, his ticklish belly and even, daringly, playfully, the tip of his big and burgeoning manhood.

"Oh, Lizzie! Oh, God!" he whispered when he could hold himself apart from her no longer. She lay beneath him, her legs wrapped around his thighs, waiting for him, wanting him.

"Anthony…" she breathed, caressing his honey-gold hair. "My darling…you must know I have never…"

"Nor I, sweetheart," he said with a tender smile. "I believe I always have known I was waiting for you."

*****

She had been told it would hurt, and she was a little afraid for he did seem so big, and she wondered a bit how they would manage it. But he was so careful, so gentle, and it seemed she had gone all wet and soft inside, and in the end she thought it did not hurt it all, and all she felt was the most luxurious sensation, like dipping a finger in warm thick honey, and the golden sweetness spread all the way through her as he slowly filled her. Softly sighing, she wrapped herself around him. So big, so strong. She loved him so much. How could she ever have been afraid? Hadn't she always known he was made for her?

It thrilled her to hear the sounds that he made, to see the expression on his dear, handsome face as he made love to her, And if it all seemed to be over a little bit quickly, it mattered not at all, for he would be hers forever now. They would learn it all together; it would all belong to them. She had never felt so loved, so happy, so whole.

"I love you!" she had whispered, rising to meet him one last time, as if she would take him into her very soul.

"I love you!" he answered her, pressing deep, his face so close to hers.

"I love you!"

*****

There was a great tradition of Christmastime weddings in Haythe, and indeed there seemed always to be at least one or two every year (sometimes more!) and there was a great tradition as well, it would seem, of these marriages being particularly blessed, (almost invariably!), by a happy event in the following midsummer. The prettiest, liveliest and cleverest children, it always was said, seemed to come from these Christmastime unions and as proof that they were especially blessed, they were nearly always born big and bouncing and hale, and not at all sickly or small as one might expect from a seven or eight months child. Rebecca Adelia Bracegirdle was just such a one of these children, and even her old Grandpapa Goodbody could for once find no fault with a son-in-law who had had a part in producing the most beautiful, the most perfect, the most promising little girl in all the world.

And what, you might well ask, as we are winding up loose ends, had ever become of Bromford Bownes? It had all, of course, been a great mystery for quite a long time, as well you might imagine, for it seemed he had quite completely disappeared, driving off alone in his phaeton the night of the harvest carnival, never to return. No evidence had ever been found of him, save a smashed carriage lantern found in the middle of the Old Port Road on the morning after that storm had blown up so suddenly. The road was rather churned up in that spot, by hooves and carriage wheels, and there was found as well the very incongruous, lumpen and waterlogged remains of what appeared to be a rather large plum pudding. It was all too, too curious!

From time to time one would hear a rumour, that he had been seen in London, or another that he had in fact married an exceedingly plain but well-dowered, not-so-young woman in Yorkshire, but Sir Barclay Beresford Bownes had meanwhile seen fit to remarry, and proceeded, at the advanced age of sixty and sixty-two to produce not one, but two heirs to his title and fortune.

But rumor and conjecture aside, many the folk of the village maintain to this day that Bromford Bownes was spirited away by supernatural means, that he had in fact met with the shade of the Headless Helmsman himself and it became a favorite story to be told around the fire on an autumn night, especially with the approach of All Hallows.

The End

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