"You stupid oaf!" yelled Genevieve, " I would rather die than give myself to you!"       Lord Vorace was visibly shaken by the vehemence of Genevieve's reaction. However he quickly regained his composure.       "In that case, Lady Osborne, your fate is sealed," he said coldly.       "I think not, Lord Vorace, it seems that your nemesis has arrived,........" Stand And Deliver - Part 6 by Alys

Genevieve stared at Lord Vorace as he made the accusation. His strong hands held the two pistols pointing steadily at her servant, Bessie, and herself.

Bessie flung herself into her mistresses' arms in her fright at his lordship's threats. Genevieve held the mother of her lover close and took a subtle step backwards.

"This is a touching scene," he sneered, " the English gentlewoman embracing her monkey servant. It's a shame for the both of you that your secret banditry is now exposed."

"I would insist that you refrain from racial slurs in my household, Lord Vorace," demanded Genevieve.

Lord Vorace laughed, an ugly sound echoing his cruel nature. The two women moved another step away.

"You are in no position to make demands of me, Lady Osborne," he replied, " in fact if I were you I would be trying to think of ways I could persuade someone as noble as myself to take a different course"

"Lord Vorace, it is not in my nature to beg for anything, especially since the impertinent accusation you have made is completely baseless," Genevieve stated, with a confidence she did not feel, as she moved herself and Bessie a little closer toward the back wall of her bedroom.

Lord Vorace's hands wavered slightly and Genevieve saw a moment's uncertainty appear in his countenance in response to the conviction of her rebuttal.

"I have enough evidence to please Judge Viscerate and enable him to don his hanging cap," he countered.

"And what may I enquire is the nature of this proof of myself and the notorious brigand, you have named as Midnight Mary, being one and the same?" asked Genevieve, shuffling a little further away.

"Unfortunately for you the ruse, of sending your horse away to lead us from your house two days ago, was unsuccessful. One of the yeomanry who had been forced to wait in the vicinity, when his horse went lame, spotted your stallion returning to the stable," his lordship explained.

"And what is the significance of such an observation, surely horses by their nature return to their stables. Is that not the function of such buildings, Lord Vorace," countered Genevieve, as sarcastically as possible, hoping to rile her accuser and distract him from her slow movement backwards.

"Such a tone will not persuade me otherwise of my duty to accompany you to a more secure and fateful location," he responded, angrily, " the salient fact here is that on the back of the horse, identified as belonging to you, was a mannequin dressed as Midnight Mary herself. Your culpability is clear! "

With this last triumphant statement the rich lord preened himself with his self satisfaction at having gained verbal ascendancy.

"If such a thing is proven, what would be your suggestion as a course of action, for someone as respectable as myself, to avoid the rope?" asked Genevieve, adopting a more pleading tone.

Lord Vorace smiled at Genevieve's apparent change of demeanour, " clearly someone would need to be punished as a deterrent to others who might attempt the same scurrilous actions in the future," he began, " but surely better that a common person lost their life, rather than someone as noble and as pleasant to the eye as yourself"

By now Genevieve had managed to move herself and Bessie so that their backs were almost touching the pink back wall of her room. She positioned her servant so that her left arm was completely obscured from Lord Vorace's view.

"Pray be more specific in your suggestion," said Genevieve, sweetly, "so that I may give it the proper consideration"

Lord Vorace put his pistols down on the side table, near the door.

"I am pleased that you have adopted a more sensible attitude. The death of someone with your breeding and stature would be a great loss to our community, as well as stirring up the common people against us," he said, " simply put my offer is this. Let me take your monkey servants to meet the fate that every runaway slave should face. Their public execution should please the needs of Society for retribution and provide some entertainment for the unwashed."

Genevieve nodded her head in apparent agreement, temporarily repressing her extreme disgust at such ideas, while she slowly felt along the wall for the object she needed.

"Of course, " continued Lord Vorace," you will be grateful to me for saving your life and will repay me in the way that any unmarried woman can. Whenever I am returned from my profitable trading in monkeys I trust you will be available to entertain me?"

He paused and smiled at Genevieve, awaiting her assent.

"You stupid oaf!" yelled Genevieve, " I would rather die than give myself to you!"

Lord Vorace was visibly shaken by the vehemence of Genevieve's reaction. However he quickly regained his composure.

"In that case, Lady Osborne, your fate his sealed," he said coldly.

"I think not, Lord Vorace, it seems that your nemesis has arrived," responded Genevieve as she stared beyond the shoulder of his lordship.

Lord Vorace, fooled by the deception turned to look at what had apparently caught Genevieve's attention.

"A silly trick!" he said, as soon as he saw the empty doorway.

In the instant that his eyes were averted from herself and Bessie, Genevieve turned the large, ornate handle and pulled open the heavy door. She quickly bundled Bessie into the small dark storeroom and followed her.

Lord Vorace turned and ran towards their refuge. Genevieve strained with all her might to pull the weighty ancient piece of wood. As it was about to close she felt extreme resistance as her foe gained purchase with his leading hand.

"You cannot escape, I am much stronger than you" he laughed, and began to reopen the door.

"Bessie, help me," hissed Genevieve.

The two women took hold of the handle and then with a strength born of extreme desperation they suddenly gave it a yank and slammed it shut. Lord Vorace was unbalanced by the sudden movement and before he could regain his grip Genevieve and Bessie had managed to put the bolts in place.

The futile rattling of the door in its frame, followed by the curses of the frustrated lord indicated the temporary safety of the two.

Genevieve knew that their time was short since Lord Vorace would soon fetch some of his men to batter the door down. She acted quickly to vigorously pull a chain next to the hinge of the door. In the far distance she heard the very faint tinkle of a bell. She smiled a little, pleased with the success of the first part of her stratagem.

"If you do not come out before I finish counting to ten," came the shout of Lord Vorace, somewhat muffled by the thickness of the wood," I will blast my way in"

"Miss Genevieve, what can we do, he will kill us both," said Bessie sounding completely terrified.

"One, two, three........"

"Don't worry Bessie, he won't take us, please stand here in the corner," responded Genevieve reassuringly.

"Please Miss Genevieve, let him have me and Malcolm, we would gladly give our lives to keep you safe," pleaded Bessie, " you have given both of us the pride and dignity that we would never have had in Jamaica."

"...six, seven, eight..."

"Bessie, don't worry we are safe for a few moments, you'll see," reassured Genevieve.

"...ten, your time is up. This is your last chance, are you coming out?" screamed Lord Vorace.

Genevieve ignored the shouts from outside and busied herself in rolling up a small carpet in the middle of the storeroom. By now the her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, only punctured by tiny window set many feet above them in the roof, and was able to work rapidly at her task.

"In that case, goodbye Genevieve, and farewell to your sweet lips and soft bosoms," yelled Lord Vorace.

There was a loud roar as the two pistols were discharged a few feet on the other side of the barrier. Instantly the door vibrated violently and two small bulges appeared in the wood where the balls had impacted but failed to completely penetrate the door.

"We're saved," gasped Bessie, "but how?"

"The door is four inch solid oak, it was made over two hundred years ago during the civil war, this was built as a bolthole for the family who lived here. They were Cromwell supporters while the west-country was a stronghold of the royalists," Genevieve explained as she finally succeeded in locating a recessed handle set in a flagstone in the middle of the floor.

"Can you help me here?" she asked Bessie, indicating the newly revealed hand-grip.

"You only have a temporary reprieve you witch," shouted the frustrated lordship from the other side of the still intact obstacle, " my men will break this door down without delay. I think their reward will be to pleasure themselves with you before we take you for your justified punishment"

There was the sound of retreating footsteps as Lord Vorace hastened to fetch his troop. Genevieve and Bessie pulled open the trapdoor. Beneath it was revealed a black circular space.

"What is it, mistress?" asked Bessie.

"It's our escape, hopefully. It's a tunnel made of leather which leads to the stables where, with luck, Malcolm will be ready with our horses. You must be brave Bessie you will be in darkness for quite a few moments and falling very quickly," Genevieve explained.

"Yes, mistress, although I am afraid of the dark," replied Bessie.

"We have little time before Lord Vorace returns, go now, I will follow in a few moments," commanded Genevieve.

Bessie stood at the edge of the void, hesitating, " it looks like the entrance to hell, Miss Genevieve, I'm not sure I can do it"

"I'm sorry, Bessie, there is no other choice," responded Genevieve as she gave her servant a gentle push in the back that sent her tumbling into the leather tube. Bessie screams of terror diminished in volume as she fell towards her destination. Genevieve busied herself with attaching a thin rope to a collection of tools in the storeroom.

She then passed it through a tiny hole in the carpet and attached it to the handle of the trapdoor. She lowered herself into the escape tube, using a strap on the inside. When her head was below the level of the tube opening she pulled the closure down on top of her. It closed with a loud 'crunch' followed by the clatter of the tools on top of the carpet that now covered up their escape route again.

"That should slow them down a little," she muttered to herself before releasing herself into the blackness.

The rapid descent, that Genevieve was familiar with having often used the tube as part of her childhood games, was soon over. The expected fall into the soft hay as usual filled her mouth and nose with dust.

"Miss Genevieve we must hurry," announced Malcolm.

Genevieve looked up from her temporary prone position to see Malcolm holding three horses by their bridles. Bessie was already astride one of them. She swiftly rose to mount Prince while Malcolm jumped onto the third mount. He led the way towards the back entrance of the stable to avoid the sound of their horses' hooves on the cobbles of the courtyard.

As they eased themselves through the narrow exit Genevieve noticed the two soldiers bound and gagged on the floor. She caught Malcolm's gaze and motioned towards the captives.

"Sorry, Miss Genevieve there was no other choice they were guarding the stables," he explained.

Genevieve nodded her agreement and followed her lover as he trotted out into the open pasture behind the lodge. Luckily Lord Vorace had summoned all members of his troop to batter the door down in the bedroom and so the escape of the three was not noticed.

Soon they had reached the ridge of the hill. Genevieve looked down at what had been her home for the last eight years knowing that she would never see it again before turning to lead her little band down the slope into the next valley.

For the rest of the day they traveled, keeping away from any villages or farms. Sometimes they could move quickly, at other times they had to be more circumspect in their progress. By late afternoon they had reached their destination, a staging post a little outside Reading. Their luck was in since a coach was waiting as they arrived, being made ready for imminent departure.

Genevieve quickly struck a deal with the coachmen for the exclusive use of the vehicle for Malcolm and Bessie, paying double the normal rate and promising the same recompense again on arrival at a London address.

"But Miss Genevieve, it is not safe for you to return, won't you come with us?" pleaded Bessie after her mistress had revealed her plan to return to the west country.

"I'm sorry, I cannot, there are things I must attend to before joining you," Genevieve explained, before embracing her two companions warmly and leaving them.

The journey back, in the clear moonlit night, was faster than the journey out as Genevieve was able to ride each of the horses in turn. However by the time she reached the entrance to the small cave that was her destination she was exhausted.

After pulling away the covering of branches that concealed the entrance, she set the horses to feed and rest in the stalls at the rear of the chamber.

It was a cold night and Genevieve knew that even with the animal furs that were available for bedding and covering she would find it very difficult to sleep. She decided to take the risk of lighting a fire, even though that would increase the possibility of the discovery of her hideout.

A while later, she lay wrapped in the fleeces in front of the small fire and soon drifted off to sleep, with the thoughts of being caressed by her lover as comfort.

She was woken by the sound of boots crunching small stones. She looked up to see a figure silhouetted in the autumn sunlight streaming into the cave.

"This is a pleasant surprise Genevieve, you look so beautiful there, it is to my eternal regret that my duty compels me to escort you to prison and certain execution," said a familiar voice.

It was her erstwhile suitor, Captain Wilcox of the Somerset County Yeomanry.