Page 33 of The Lady’s No Angel

With an amused snort, she followed the girl with Milly at her heels. Hart turned to look at Toby and ruffled the lad’s hair.

“Hungry, brat?”

“Starved,” he agreed, and followed the ladies through to their private room.

The Plough, Eynsford, Kent ,9th April 1816

“What on earth is taking so long? He’s been gone for hours,” Angel grumbled.

She got up from the settle, rubbing her backside. She was spending far too long sitting on her behind. What with the gig jolting over every cobble and into every pothole, she didn’t doubt her bottom would be black and blue before this adventure was over.

“I’m going to the bar myself,” she said, tired of sitting about waiting. She strode to the door but Milly, who had been dozing with her feet on the fender, looked up, her bleary gaze focusing on Angel.

“Hold your horses, miss. You know very well that you can’t go into a public bar, and you don’t need me to remind you of that. We’re strangers here, remember. People ain’t likely to chatter about folk to strangers at the drop of a hat. He’ll have to buy drinks, make himself agreeable,” Milly said, an explanation which was entirely reasonable but did not ease Angel’s sense of aggravation.

This was her adventure, this was her treasure, she was the one who was supposed to find Jenny Preston. Why must she sit here and twiddle her thumbs whilst the menfolk did the work?

Even Toby, who had been given leave to play with the children by the stream, was free to ask questions. Walking to the window, Angel leaned on the sill and peered out, seething with frustration.

The door to the small parlour opened, and Angel turned, surprised to see Ruth.

“I brought you a jug of orgeat, miss,” the girl said cheerfully. “And there’s some stewed apples and cream. Your brother is enjoying himself in the bar and has likely forgot all about you, so I thought you might be bored.”

Angel smiled at the girl but could not help but wonder if Ruth’s lush charms were partly to blame for Mr Cleaver’s prolonged absence. Still, it was kind of the young woman to have considered her and Milly’s comfort.

“That’s very good of you,” Angel said with a smile. “I’m afraid my brother is excellent company and quickly makes friends. He’ll have all the local gossip and know everybody’s business and be invited to dinner by half the inhabitants before too long if they do not have a care.”

Ruth laughed, nodding at this observation which Angel hoped might allay any concerns about Mr Cleaver’s probing questions—assuming he had remembered to pose any.

“Aye, he’s got a nose for scandal. Mind, everyone in these parts knows about Jenny Preston.”

Angel’s heart stuttered at the unlooked-for introduction to the subject she was dying to know more about. Exchanging a silent glance with Milly, she tried for nonchalance. “Jenny who?”

“Jenny Preston,” Ruth replied, as she set out the dishes of stewed apple and cream. “She was born here and became a notorious highwaywoman, if you can credit it. My grandma used to love telling me tales about Jenny, for they was friends when they were girls. Granny told me Jenny was beautiful and wicked and clever, and they had the devil’s own job trying to catch her. Led the men a merry dance, she did, but they caught her in the end. Hanged she was.”

“H-Hanged?” Angel repeated faintly, knowing Ruth would take delight in her shock. As expected, the girl shot her a grin, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh, aye. Over Maidstone way. Though it were years ago, way before my time. But that’s where they used to hang those on the high toby, the gallows on the heath. She made the mistake of holding up a government official, some bigwig. Well, after that there was a reward, and nowhere to hide. Someone peached on her, I reckon. They caught her on Shooter’s Hill.”

Though she’d been dead for years before Angel had even been born, she felt a sudden sense of loss for the woman. “How sad,” she said quietly.

Ruth poured out two glasses of the orgeat and nodded. “Aye. I always thought so. Granny mourned her loss, I know.”

“Did… Did she never marry?” Angel asked, her heart beating too hard, too fast.

“Marry? Lord, no. She weren’t the marrying kind,” Ruth said with a laugh as she picked up the empty tray. She held it against herself, her expression thoughtful as she considered. “Though I remember she had a sweetheart. Granny told me she saw him once and said he was as wicked as she was, and handsome as sin. A pirate, she said.”

Angel’s breath caught, and she smiled. Pops, you scoundrel. “Do you think…? Would your grandmother talk to me about… about Jenny? I should love to hear more about her. I’ve never heard of a lady highwayman before.”

Ruth’s expression fell, her eyes growing sorrowful. “Ah, miss. Granny would have loved to tell you all about Jenny, for she never tired of telling such tales, but she passed away, oh, must be three years ago now.”

“Oh.” Angel’s hopes plummeted back to earth, but she had learned more than she had expected.

“If you’ll excuse me, miss. Those fellows will get up to I don’t know what if I’m not there to keep them in line.”

“Of course, and thank you. It was most kind of you to think of us.”

Ruth bobbed a curtsey, which even Angel had to admit showed her charms to full advantage, and hurried out.