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“This evening?” enquired her mother, eyebrows raised.
She tried to cover up her trembling hands with a napkin. Her parents mustn’t see her excitement. “Lucy has a new book to share. Please, Papa? Let Grainger take me in the gig.”
Alice referred to the stable master who doubled as the coachman when required. A suitable chaperone when travelling into town.
Henry puffed out his lips while Alice held her breath. “You must promise to stay away from the taverns. There is nothing to be gained from fraternising with the military.”
Alice tried not to blush. Had he guessed at her plans? What was wrong with an up and coming officer? “Surely, Papa, a fine young officer would make a good match for me.”
Henry snorted. “Junior officers, regardless of their appearance, are not necessarily from the best families, especially in the militia. You must temper your infatuation with soldiers.”
She didn’t care, militia or regular army officers, weren’t they all gallant men seeking a suitable wife? However, she must not let her father know. She wanted to surprise him with her beau, show how daring and adventurous she could be when courting. “It does not matter, I shall be with Philippa and Lucy. Oh please, Papa.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
She tapped a spoon on the saucer and waited, somewhat impatiently, for her father’s decision. Pursing his lips, he let out a sigh of defeat and gave his verdict. “Very well, Alice. You may visit your friends.”
“Oh, thank you Papa!” She proffered him an appreciative peck on his cheek, which resulted a bemused shake of his head.
“Take your pelisse, Alice,” said her mother. “It will be cold when you return.”
Alice seated herself in the gig, her pelisse coat folded over her lap and waved to her mother. Grainger flicked his whip and the solitary horse immediately took off at a trot.
The journey, travelling along the turnpike, took barely fifteen minutes even with the mud flying under the wheels. Grainger didn’t need directions, he was familiar with the townhouse where the sisters lived with their parents. Pulling up outside the iron railings, he helped Alice down on to the paving.
“Thank you, Grainger,” said Alice, clutching her pelisse. “I shall see you later, here as agreed. Yes?”
The elderly man tipped his hat and returned to his seat in the gig, directing the horse to turn about in the middle of the road. Alice suspected he would seek out a suitable location to tether the horse then sample the local hostelry. It was a similar idea to her own. Instead of knocking on the door of her friends’ house, she quickly picked up her skirts and made for the town centre. She hurried along with head tucked down, so not to be noticed by any possible acquaintances
She passed other taverns along her route; they were filled with either the local riff-raff or the lower ranks of the regiment. She could quite imagine fights breaking out later in the night between the two if they were to mix.
“Change? You need no change, you sneak!”
The woman’s raised voice stopped Alice in her tracks. Across the other side of the street, a small group of soldiers sat on benches outside a rather unwholesome tavern. Before them, remonstrating, was a plump serving maid. Stepping back into the dim shadows of an overhanging building, Alice watched as the young woman argued with a customer.
She wagged a finger at him. “You gave me a ha’penny, not a penny!”
“Do you accuse me of lying, wench?” He reached out and caught her skirts.
Alice’s feet remained frozen to the ground.
The soldier, with black hair and stubbly chin, tugged on the dress, pulling the woman closer. He smirked. “What shall I do lads? Take her over me knee?” His idea was greeted with a chorus of approval.
Alice’s lower jaw dropped. On the street! She covered her mouth with her hand. Yet, still, she could not move from the spot.
The serving girl tried to slap his hand away. They grappled briefly before he tossed her head first over his lap. She shrieked, twisting about but his strong left arm held her in place. Her red hair tumbled down, hiding her face and the hem of her dress rose up. Alice gaped in horror, as the soldier lifted up the barmaid’s dress and exposed her naked bottom to the street light.
Alice expected somebody to leap to the woman’s rescue, but the other men hooted raucously.
“A few hard slaps, go on,” egged one companion. “Teach her not to fib.”
“You brute!” The barmaid’s pale legs kicked up and down. “Let me go!”
The soldier raised his right hand and brought it down with a resounding smack.
“Ow. You beast!” She writhed.
His hand came down again. Alice jumped. The slap was easily audible across the street. She glanced up and down—not a window or door opened. Her heart thumped against her chest. Such unacceptable behaviour—to be spanked in public. She wondered if she s
hould intervene, charge across the street and rescue the girl. How could she? She was suppose to be in town incognito. Moreover, how could she stand up against soldiers on her own?
