"I would aim to relieve you of your purses" said the masked woman. "And how do you intend to go that young woman?" asked Lord Parsimon. "It's a matter of your money or your life, as they say in the parlance " was the woman's reply as she cocked her pistol and pressed it against the fat Lord's head. Stand and Deliver - Part 1 by Alys

---

Part 1
 

The lamps of the coach swung madly as the driver urged his train of horses to extra efforts. Their light briefly invaded the inky blackness, casting strange, short lived distorted shadows of trees and bushes as the vehicle rattled onward.

Lord Reginald Parsimon, held on tight to the arm rest as he was bounced around inside the coach. He consulted his pocket watch for the umpteenth time. His face tightened and he put his head out of the window.

"Hurry up, man," he bellowed," I have an important appointment in my Bath town house in less than an hour!"

"I am sorry your lordship, we are doing our best, the road is very rutted here," replied Thomas Jones the driver.

"I don't care about your excuses, man, it's a penny off your wages for every minute I am late!" the fat lord shouted.

Thomas Jones was shocked by the threat, any such reduction would make it very hard for him and his family to feed themselves for the whole month. He glanced at his fellow servant, John Evans, who mouthed an obscenity back, they knew that their employer was notorious for his cruelty and these were no idle words.

Lord Parsimon sat back and relaxed as the journey became a little smoother. He was a happy man, in a short time he would be pleasuring himself with his mistress, Victoria Swallow, which seemed to him the perfect end to a successful day.

He had spent the morning, in his office in Bristol, finalising plans to increase the loading of his slave ships by a quarter. He had quashed the objections of one of his ship captains that they would be unable to carry enough rations to ensure that all the slaves were fed in the event of the slightest delay. It was a win/win situation as far as he was concerned. If all went well then he would have more, healthy, if hungry, live cargo to sell. Any delay would increase the ratio of dead to live cargo but he would still make very healthy profits. With the correct timing his goods would arrive just in time to be disposed off at the market.

His afternoon had been equally pleasurable as he had arranged for the county yeomanry to accompany his labourers to remove goods in lieu of rent from most of his tenants. He had been surprised that one of his more prosperous farmers had expressed concern for the fate of the poorer ones once their winter grain and other foodstuffs stores had been taken by his men.

"They have brought their plight upon themselves, it is their legal duty to pay their rent and it is my legal duty to enforce this," he had replied to this irritating individual.

All in all Lord Reginald George Parsimon was a very contented man.

The coach lurched to a sudden stop and the comfortable, relaxed fat man was thrown forward onto the opposite seat.

"What the hell is going on, you useless idiots!" he screamed out of the window after he had managed to haul himself back onto his chair.

"Really sorry your Lordship, the horses had reared at an object which seems to be blocking the road, it is probably a tree." replied Thomas Jones with temerity.

"Well get to it the to remove it!" bellowed Lord Parsimon.

"But, sir, it could be a trap, shouldn't one of us stay here to guard while the other ascertains what is necessary?" asked Thomas.

"A trap!," laughed his Lordship," who's going to lay a trap here on the busy Bristol to Bath road?"

"It could happen," ventured John?

"Don't be stupid man, and less of this backchat, do what I tell you to do and remove this tree!"

The two servants jumped down and soon, in the light of one of the lamps, they were straining to move the tree enough to allow them to get the coach past.

Lord Parsimon sat back and amused himself with trying to work out in his head how much he would save by cutting John and Thomas's wages when they arrived late. In some ways it was a good thing if he turned up a little late to see Victoria, in addition to saving more pay. He found that if he arrived too early in the evening his luscious, twenty year old plaything would try and turn the conversation to him possibly marrying her. He usually dumped them when they started wanting some permanence and some public recognition and he felt that maybe that decision was approaching soon.

"Good evening, Lord Parsimon," came a pleasant voice, interrupting his contemplation.

He looked up to see the beautiful masked face looking in through the window. He wondered where she had come from.

"What is your purpose here on this dark Autumn night?" he asked.

"I would aim to relieve you of your purses" replied the masked woman.

"And how do you intend to go that young woman?" asked Lord Parsimon.

"It's a matter of your money or your life, as they say in the parlance " was the woman's reply as she cocked her pistol and pressed it against the fat Lord's head.

"This is very foolish, why should I be afraid of you" he asked with a sneer on his face.

"Because you fat, greedy buffoon," came the reply which startled his Lordship with its vehemence," killing you will be like squashing an ant. This pistol, and the other in my belt have four shots between them. I would welcome the opportunity of ridding the world of someone as odious as you, as painfully as possible"

The chilling but rational nature of the reply shocked Lord Parsimon. He decided to try and continue his bravado.

"You would have the whole of the yeomanry on your heel if you did that," he stated.

"It worries me little," responded the masked woman," it's time for you to choose. Give the purses to me and live as a consequence or die and I shall still take them. I am counting to ten"

One....Two....Three.....Four.....Five...Six....Seven...

"Wait,wait " interrupted Lord Parsimon," you can have the purses, here take them"

He handed them to the masked lady. She took them and then disappeared into the darkness.

"We've moved the tree and we're ready to move off now, sir" said Thomas, a few minutes later, as he resumed his seat

"Yes, well done men," responded Lord Parsimon, quietly.

The shock of being praised by their unpleasant boss was so surprising that John and Thomas sat there stunned for a few seconds. However the bracing wind soon roused them and they started the coach on its journey again.

Meanwhile a lone horsewoman sped away in the opposite direction from the coach, which was rapidly disappearing from sight, despite its lamp illumination.

"Ride on, Prince, take me home," said the masked lady to her horse as he made his way back, by memory, to the stables.

Over two hours later a tiring horse and rider walked into a small stable next to a neat but quite impressive country lodge. The masked lady jumped off and after removing the saddle and saddle bags, opened the door to Prince's stall and left him to rest and refresh himself with hay and water. She started putting her riding equipment away.

"Good evening Miss Genevieve," said the familiar voice of Malcolm, her dark skinned handyman, from the entrance to the stables.

"Hello, Malcolm," Genevieve responded.

"I trust things went as planned?" he asked.

"Perfectly," she replied, smiling at her memory of the terror on the face of the corpulent lord.

"I am truly sorry Miss Genevieve, that I was not here to greet you, Mother Bessie had me finishing some carpentry. She has prepared your bath, so please let me finish stowing everything away," insisted Malcolm.

Genevieve left her trusted handyman to his tasks while she retired to her bathroom. She quickly disrobed and slipped into the warm, reviving water, swirling with oils and flower petals to scent and soften her body. As she rubbed them into her skin she touched gently the source of her differentness that had made a conventional life impossible.

Later, towelled and dried she put on her night dress and lay in her bed that was at the exact level of comfort she desired thanks to Mother Bessie placing a bed warming pan in earlier.

A draught touched her face as the door to her bedroom was opened and closed quickly.

"I have come sweet Genevieve," came the strong masculine voice.

"Oh my brave lover, pleasure me as only you know how to," she pleaded in response.

---

To Be Continued...
 
End of Part One

"How does this miracle manifest itself, Percival?" asked Genevieve, even though she knew the real answer. She inwardly cursed that she had not left a mark on the odious Lordship's face. "Not a scratch, not a mark on his person, truly wondrous," replied Percival, with his conviction as to the veracity of the report clear in his voice. Stand and Deliver - Part 2 by Alys

---

Part 2
 

"Thank you Bessie, that smells wonderful," Genevieve said as she sat down for breakfast the next morning, wearing a simple, high waist morning dress and her chestnut wig.

"Nothing like freshly baked bread Miss Genevieve," replied Bessie, as she finished setting the food on the table.

"You must have risen very early to make this Bessie?" enquired Genevieve.

"It's nothing, Miss Genevieve, after yesterday I thought you deserved a treat, you were very late home," responded Bessie.

"You sound just like my poor Mama used to, rest her soul," chuckled Genevieve," but I know that you do not mean it as a rebuke. I did what I felt I had to do Bessie"

"Yes, Miss Genevieve, but it was a dangerous gesture, you could have been apprehended and then what might have happened?"

Genevieve took a slice of bread, spread some strawberry preserve on it and ate a small piece.

"Bessie please will you sit down with me and take a cup of tea with me," requested Genevieve.

"Miss, that is not my place," replied Bessie, formally.

"Please, I need to explain something to you," responded Genevieve.

"As you wish, Miss Genevieve."

Bessie sat down next to the Lady of the house and poured herself a small cup of tea. Her mostly grey hair and heavily lined face showed evidence of a lifetime of toil, but also some joy etched in the laughter lines around her lips.

Genevieve finished her piece of bread and smiled at her loyal housekeeper.

"Bessie when I bought you and your Malcolm from slavery on the Gold Coast I promised you that I would always ensure your well being," she said speaking softly.

"Yes, Miss Genevieve."

"You know that the two of you have repaid any debt you might feel you owe me, for freeing you, many times over. So, as I have promised I have made appropriate provision. In the event of something unfortunate happening to me you will not want for a home or an income."

"Thank you Miss Genevieve, you are too kind," responded Bessie.

"My legal representative in Bath, Mr Tollit, has the official documentation ready and if the worst does happen you are to go to see him, taking all your legal papers, I hope this plan will ease your mind Bessie," Genevieve concluded, touching Bessie's hand gently to emphasise her point.

Before Bessie could reply there was a loud knock on the door outside. The housekeeper moved quickly to establish the identity of the unexpected visitor. There was the sounds of a brief conversation with a man, clearly someone of standing from the reassured tone that Genevieve heard. She smiled as she recognised the voice, if not the exact words.

"Miss Genevieve, Captain Wilcox requests admission, what will you have me say?" Bessie asked on her return.

"I would ask you to invite him in, but please let me have a moment to seat myself in a more appropriate way," said Genevieve getting up quickly from the dining table and sitting in a comfortable chair in the far corner of the room, near to the fireplace.

Captain Wilcox of the Somerset County Yeomanry strode vigorously across the room towards Genevieve. He took her proffered right hand and delicately brought his lips to touch it, he lingered a little while with her hand in his.

"Captain Wilcox, won't you join me," said Genevieve, indicating a chair nearby," to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Yes, thankyou," responded Captain Wilcox," but you know that there is no need to be so formal with me, Genevieve"

"I am so sorry Percival, it's just that I wasn't sure if this was a business or personal visit"

"Well there is a business element. I have the disturbing news that there is a determined band of highwaymen operating in these parts," he said with a very serious tone.

"Really? That is extremely unsettling. Pray tell how has this come about," stated Genevieve.

"It is a sorry tale for poor Lord Parsimon," began Percival.

"Please do inform me what tragedy has been visited on the noble Lord?" asked Genevieve, wondering how the official version of events differed from the one she knew to be true.

"Yes, dear Genevieve it is nothing short of a tragedy, and not just for his Lordship, but also for the rest of the educated class in Somerset. Last night as his coach was speeding to Bath, on urgent business, his party was attacked by a number of determined highwaymen. Being so dark, with almost no moonlight he is uncertain of the exact size of the attacking group. His Lordship fought bravely but despite his valour he was forced to yield his purses" explained the Captain.

Genevieve was finding it hard to suppress her laughter at such a ludicrous exaggeration, she coughed to relieve some of the internal tension.

"That is indeed rather a frightening tale," she responded," no doubt Lord Parsimon is still recuperating from his injuries after such a tremendous conflict?"

"That is indeed the miraculous aspect of the whole incident, it really is a silver lining to the dark cloud," responded Percival.

"How does this miracle manifest itself, Percival?" asked Genevieve, even though she knew the real answer. She inwardly cursed that she had not left a mark on the odious Lordship's face.

"Not a scratch, not a mark on his person, truly wondrous," replied the Percival, with his conviction as to the veracity of the report clear in his voice.

"I am grateful to you for this warning, I will consider such dangers in my future travels," responded Genevieve, hoping that Percival's visit would be as short as possible, since she had a number to tasks to complete before sun fall.

"That is why I am visiting all the establishments in the area, with my troop, to make residents of this district aware of the threat to their livelihoods" continued Percival.

"You did not say that you were here with your troop. Oh I feel that I have not shown the proper hospitality to you and your men. I will instruct Bessie and Malcolm to provide refreshments for your company," said Genevieve, reaching for her silver bell to summon her housekeeper.

Percival put a hand on hers to stop her ringing.

"Wait there is no need, we have already been adequately supplied by your two servants, more than adequately in many respects. Those two are really a wonder," he stated.

Genevieve relaxed in her chair and agreed with Percival's opinion of Bessie and Malcolm. The conversation became more normal as they exchanged news about the members of their circle in various parts of Bath and the surrounding countryside. In a short while Percival had turned the discussion to the Autumn ball, he once again asked Genevieve to accompany him. She prevaricated but promised an answer within the week. She sighed to herself how he was proving a much more obstinate suitor than all the others who generally given up after a year or two, once they realised that Genevieve had no intention of marrying.

Finally the ordeal of the visit was over as Percival realised, from the room clock striking eleven, that he had to move on to complete the remainder of his visits. He bade Genevieve farewell with another delicate kiss on her hand and then strode out to collect his soldiers together.

As soon as the door was closed, after Percival's departure, Genevieve rushed to her bedroom. She knew she would have to hurry to complete everything in the shorter period she had left.

Removing her wig, and replacing it delicately on its stand, she let her own dark hair fall, then she put it into a quick pony tail. She removed her dress and put on the male waistcoat, breeches and jacket that was stored at the back of her wardrobe, to avoid a casual inspection.

She moved over to the chest at the foot of her bed and, after taking the key from its hiding place, opened it. She quickly located the purses, she had taken the night before, and after removing about half their contents and putting it in a new purse, she replaced the originals in the chest.

The clock struck half past eleven, she knew that she had to rush so she ran down the stairs, almost crashing into Bessie at the bottom.

"Miss Genevieve, I am so sorry for being in your way," said Bessie contritely.

"Don't worry Bessie, it is I who is at fault," responded Genevieve.

"Miss Genevieve I have your saddlebag, made up with the necessary items," explained Bessie, as she handed over Genevieve's leather saddlebag.

"Thank you, Bessie, you are a real treasure," Genevieve said smiling at her housekeeper," but I regret that I must leave you for the few days that we talked about."

"Yes of course, give my regards to your aunt, I hope she gets better soon," commented Bessie.

"I'm sure she will," responded Genevieve, with a grin on her face.

As usual Malcolm had worked his wizardry with Genevieve's horse, and after less than twelve hours of rest he looked like he had a lot of energy.

"Thank you Malcolm, you are wonderful," said Genevieve, smiling at her handyman," have a good few days, I shall return, I hope, on Sunday."

Genevieve made rapid progress across the open fields, riding her horse, Prince. She had placed a male hat on her head hoping to confuse people about her true gender.

After a short while she had reached the outskirts of a large wood. As Prince carried her through the mixture of large mature trees and forest glades, she reflected how glad she would be to get rid of the stolen money. The sun peaked out from a hole in a grey cloud. It felt so wonderful to be alive. Prince pushed his way through the last of the trees.

"Stop right there and get off your horse!" came the command from in front of her.

Genevieve looked up to see two of the Captain's troop pointing their flint lock muskets at her.

---

To Be Continued...
 
End of Part Two

Oliver, wearing just his breeches and shirt, walked quietly into her bedchamber. "Good evening, my dear," he said in a gentle voice. "I am ready Oliver," she responded. Stand and Deliver - Part 3 by Alys

---

Part 3
 

Genevieve stared at the soldiers pointing their muskets at her.

The sergeant opened his mouth to repeat the command for her to dismount.

"Is that anyway to address a lady, soldier?" she interrupted, while at the same time removing her hat to reveal her dark, shoulder length hair.

The soldiers lowered their muskets in surprise.

"Lady Osborne, we did not recognise you in those manly clothes, please accept our apologies," said the Sergeant fearfully.

"Well, this time I will not take further action for the agitation I have experienced due to your extremely aggressive attitude towards me," announced Genevieve in her haughtiest manner.

"Thank you so much, your ladyship," gushed the Sergeant," we are really sorry for the distress we have caused you"

"There is one thing though, Sergeant," Genevieve stated, pausing to ensure that both soldiers were listening intently to what she had to say next.

"Yes, Lady Osborne?" responded both of the soldiers, almost in unison.

"It would greatly displease me to find out that you have mentioned my presence and the details of my garb to Captain Wilcox, let me suggest that you relay different reasons to explain your tardiness in joining the troop. A call of nature perhaps?" said Genevieve slowly and deliberately.

"Yes your ladyship, of course and thank you," responded the Sergeant.

"I will wish you good day and good luck in catching the scoundrels and brigands that would attack law abiding gentlemen," Genevieve announced while remounting Prince. She quickly galloped away, before the soldiers could recover their senses and start wondering why a woman of substance in the area would be riding around disguised as a man.

Joseph Warrington, a portly man in his late thirties, was bored. It was a quiet Wednesday afternoon, in his office in the warehouse of Warrington's Grain and Victual Suppliers. Business was very slow, since a very good harvest had been collected in the county and demands for extra grain were suppressed. He took out the ledger and began entering the details of the day's transactions from the invoices and bills of sale. At least there was a chance that he would be able to close early and treat himself to a pint of Fullers down at the King George before trudging home.

The door to the office opened, Joseph looked up to see a very youthful looking man of below average height, dressed in expensive cloth, walking towards his desk. He stood up.

"Good afternoon sir and welcome to Warrington's Grain and Victual suppliers," said Joseph as the stranger approached. He held out his hand for a brief handshake, and then indicated the chair in front of his desk.

"How may I be of service, sir?" he asked.

"My master, Lord Parsimon, has instructed me to deliver this note of purchase to you," replied Genevieve, disguising her voice as best as she could as that of a youth with a high tenor range.

As the portly businessman read the purchase note he found it hard to contain his surprise. The value of the order was enough to pay his bills in total for the next quarter. He read it again to be certain about the quantities of grain and other foodstuffs required, the instructions for delivery and the premium that his lordship was offering.

"These are large quantities of goods and the delivery instructions are unusual, to say the least," he commented," a night time supply, of large quantities of foodstuffs, to various farmhouses, on his Lordship's estate, would take a while longer than usual. May I ask the reasons for this uncommon purchase ?"

"I'm afraid that I am not permitted to discuss any details of his Lordship's purchases. However I am instructed to inform you that on your signature there will be full payment in advance," responded Genevieve in an officious voice as possible.

"Lord Parsimon will pay in advance!" exclaimed Joseph, surprised at such an uncharacteristic act by someone notorious for his greed and avarice.

"Yes, I have a purse of fifty guineas to give to you if you are willing to accept this order," Genevieve explained.

"That is remarkably generous," responded Joseph, " although I will have to consult with my warehouse foreman to ensure that we havesufficient stock to supply his Lordship, could you return tomorrow so that I can confirm our acceptance"

"I have to tell you that his Lordship has instructed me to take this order to one of your competitors if you do not wish to accept today, and deliver tonight" stated Genevieve tersely, rapidly tiring of the businessman's attempt to delay taking the order in order to fill his warehouse with large quantities of the poorest goods to supply the tenants on the estate.

"No, please, I must apologise I misunderstood his Lordship's need for haste," blustered Joseph," I will be pleased to take this order and effect immediate delivery"

Joseph took his quill and quickly wrote out an invoice, stamped it payment received and handed it to Genevieve. She then handed the purse to him. He opened it and slowly, and very deliberately, counted the coins as if he was savouring having his hands on so much wealth. Finally he put the coins back in the purse and looked up.

"That is all in order, young sir. Please tell his Lordship that these purchase will be effected immediately and I would be grateful if you would convey my best greeting to him and her Ladyship," Joseph said, obsequiously.

He stood up and offered his hand. Genevieve stood up and accepted a brief handshake.

"Yes, I will do that. Good day Mr Warrington," she said before turning on her heel and walking out.

Joseph stared at Genevieve as she departed and wondered about the oddness of the tone, the softness of the hand and slightly womanly way of walking of Lord Parsimon's youthful messenger.

"Well they do say that not every man is as manly as others," he said to himself, before lamenting the many hours of toil ahead and the forfeit of the visit to the King George's that evening.

Lord Oliver Hamilton stood alone in the top room of his three story mansion and looked through his telescope and surveyed the interesting scene a few miles away. In the pitch blackness of the moonless night he could make out four heavily laden wagons, each illuminated with a number of lamps, making their way slowly from tenant farmer to tenant farmer on his neighbour's extensive estate.

"Another glass of wine Lord Parsimon?" asked Vivian Hamilton, indicating to her nearest servant to bring a new glass for her guest.

"You are most gracious and this is a fine drop of Frenchie wine, Lady Hamilton, it is hard to obtain these days," said the fat Lord, with a definite slur in his voice.

Vivian heard the slurring and hoped that soon her pleasant evening would be spared any more bombastic stories from the largest landowner of the area. Hopefully another few glasses and she would be able to request Lord Parsimon's coachman to transport the unconscious Lord home.

She noticed that Oliver, her husband, had rejoined the group that were pretending to listen politely to the latest repetition of how Lord Parsimon fought off scores of highwaymen, on his way to Bath, yesterday. Earlier in the evening the brigands had numbered less than ten.

"You were certainly very brave, Reginald," said Oliver.

"I 'ad to protect my men," slurred the courageous Lord.

"There is one thing that puzzles me, though," asked Colonel Johnson, the officer in charge of the Somerset Yeoman.

"..it was touch and go but..." continued Lord Parsimon, oblivious to everyone else in his self glorification.

"What is that, Colonel?" asked Oliver.

"Well, Lord Hamilton," Colonel Johnson began," how is that Lord Parsimon's coach shows no sign of conflict, there are no musket holes, no scratches nothing"

"..and then I took my pistol and shot the fourth highwayman through the chest," rambled on the Lordship of the moment.

Oliver chose that moment to attempt to bring the evening to a close.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, your Lordships, I feel that it may be time to move onto the toasts for this evening, please charge your glasses," he announced, pausing for everyone to receive a fresh glass of wine, he nodded at James his butler to ensure an extra measure for the highwayman fighting Lord.

"Let us raise our glasses and make a loyal toast to the King!" Oliver proposed.

His words were echoed.

"To the King!"

"The King!"

"God save the King!"

The toast to the King was followed by one to the Prince of Wales and then other members of the royal family, in order of line of succession to the throne.

There was a crash as a heavy man thumped unconscious on the floor.

"Only made it fifth in line, tonight," Vivian whispered to her husband, " what is he coming to, he seems to be losing his stamina"

Oliver smiled at his wife's remarks and then turned to the assembled company.

"I think it might be wise to conclude our evening now, before more of us lose their balance. Thank you all for coming, I hope you have enjoyed your evening. My servants will show you to your carriages," he said.

After a little time of making farewells and organising the collection of the esteemed company, from the front of the mansion, Vivian and Oliver were alone in the main drawing room. They sat down opposite each other on leather chairs.

"Thank you my dear, that was a most agreeable evening," said Oliver.

"Indeed it was, Oliver, apart from the biggest mouth in Somerset," she responded.

"Yes, he can be irritating, but it was a minor blot on the atmosphere and he is easily ridiculed without him noticing." said Oliver.

"Now I must bid you good night, Vivian, it has been a tiring day," said Oliver.

"Wait, haven't you forgotten the date and the night?" Vivian asked.

Oliver looked at his wife strangely and then realisation dawned and he felt like blushing, but it didn't happen.

"Of course how could I have forgotten, please forgive me, it is the third week of the month. I will of course join you at an opportune moment. Please ask your bedchamber maid to inform me,"

Almost an hour later, Vivian lay waiting in her bed for the arrival of her husband, whom she had just dispatch Iris, her bedchamber maid to fetch. She felt a tingle of anticipation, in various sensitive parts of her body, at the prospect of the pleasure he would give her. Whenever she talked discreetly with her fellowwomenfolk she was always surprised with how different her experiences were, to a degree where she concealed how much she enjoyed laying with her husband.

Oliver, wearing just his breeches and shirt, walked quietly into her bedchamber.

"Good evening, my dear," he said in a gentle voice.

"I am ready Oliver," she responded.

He lay down beside her and kissed her gently on the lips, she responded eagerly. He stroked her hair and then caressed her neck. As she felt more and more aroused she reflected on the other ladies describing being forced to submit to their husbands while she was only too ready to accept him.

Soon under Oliver's expert caresses, with fingers and lips, of her most sensitive parts, she lost herself into her pleasure.

*guinea = roughly one pound

---

To Be Continued...
 
End of Part Three

"Dear Genevieve, we cannot be intimate here, we will be seen," he whispered, before turning to unsaddle Prince. "Please Malcolm, I want you so much, will you come and pleasure me later," she asked, smiling at her lover. "Of course, my sweet lady, how can I refuse such a request," responded Malcolm. Stand and Deliver - Part 4 by Alys

---

Part 4
 

The story so far:- Genevieve, Lady Osborne, has held up the stagecoach of Lord Parsimon and arranged for the money that she has taken from him, that the greedy Lord has squeezed out of his tenants, to be used to supply the Lordship's tenants with enough food and other supplies to survive the winter. Meanwhile Lord Parsimon has been retelling Genevieve's hold up as an attack by a large party of brigands.

=======================================================================

"Gentlemen, on my signal, walk the required ten paces, turn and discharge your pistols," said Lord Parsimon to the two men standing back to back in the forest clearing.

It was a cold Autumn morning, the day after the dinner at Lord Hamilton's mansion and the chill of the damp morning was penetrating through the thick coats and overcoats worn by the dozen or so participants to the event.

Lord Parsimon dropped a white glove and the two duellists, Lord Harold Vorace and Captain Vincent Stanley walked away from each other. It was immediately obvious that Lord Vorace's understanding of the meaning of ten paces was different to that of his opponent as he clearly marked out his distance with greater urgency.

He turned and raised his pistol and stood waiting in a balanced shooting stance. Captain Stanley completed his paces and turned to face his challenger. Before the honest Captain could raise his pistol his less than honourable opponent had fired. The noise of the explosion echoed though the quiet woods, scattering the birds nestling in the branches, as clouds of smoke spread through the clearing.

Lord Vorace looked on in satisfaction as Captain Stanley clutched his face and fell to the ground screaming his agony after the particles of lead shot penetrated his face and eyes.

"Vincent!" screamed Joanne, Captain Stanley's wife, from the shelter of a large oak tree, on the perimeter of the open space, where she had concealed herself to observe the duel. She ran forward to aid her husband's second, Thomas Morris, as he attempted to staunch the blood flow.

"Lord Vorace," bellowed Lord Parsimon," is your honour satisfied?"

"It is indeed, Lord Parsimon," replied the cheating duellist, " although I trust that you will seek recompense from my opponent this morning for his flagrant breach of the code by allowing a woman to join our company"

"Indeed, Lord Vorace," responded, the supposedly neutral, Lord Parsimon," I will seek a suitable payment from Captain Stanley"

The slap of Joanne's hand across Lord Vorace's face was almost as loud as the earlier pistol shot and caused the aerial life to once again fly away. She was set upon by the lordship's seconds and dragged away.

"You scoundrel, you blaggard!" she screamed at her husband's cowardly opponent, having run over after seeing the extent of his injuries, caused by the use of the illegal load in Lord Vorace's pistol.

"Madam! You will desist from your insults and apologise to his Lordship at once," shouted Lord Parsimon," or I will have you taken away"

"Please, your Lordship, let me apologise on my wife's behalf," said Vincent, weakly, as he stood supported by his second.," please Joanne, come away, you will only make matters worse"

Lord Parsimon signalled to Lord Vorace's men to release the distraught, angry woman and then followed the dishonourable duellist who had already retreated to the safety of his carriage.

"Well Reginald," said Lord Vorace to Lord Parsimon," that was, on the whole, a very worthwhile morning's entertainment"

"Yes, I enjoyed it immensely Harold," replied Lord Parsimon," even the silly trollop slapping you was amusing"

Lord Vorace rubbed the bruise on his cheek.

"The only negative feature, but nonetheless a profitable occasion. There may even be an opening for an officer to replace the unfortunate Captain in the yeomanry" said Lord Vorace, shaking the purse he had 'won' from the previous evening's dinner at Lord Hamilton's mansion and offering his companion his hip-flask full of rum.

"Yes," responded Lord Parsimon, with an ugly laugh, " that stupid fool Stanley won't be able to make allegations against one of us again, of cheating at cards, without his eyesight!"

As the two lordships celebrated the duelling success, in the carriage slowly making its way along the rutted forest road, Captain Stanley was helped onto his horse and led away.

At the top of a nearby hill Genevieve put away the small telescope that she had been using to observe the scene below. She pondered her course of action. It would be very dangerous to stop the carriage in broad daylight. She looked around the surrounding countryside to see if there might be a place with some cover that might make her actions slightly less risky.

Seeing none she was about to turn away to return to her lodge when she felt a few drops of moisture on her face. She looked up at the clouds and noticed that there was a band of rain sweeping towards her. She smiled and quickly directed Prince, her faithful steed, down the slope.

"This is a fine drop of rum," said Lord Parsimon a little inebriated after a number of mouthfuls from the hip-flask.

"Yes," responded Lord Vorace, almost as intoxicated as his corpulent companion," it's a barrel that has..........hey what's that!"

Both the drunken lordships were almost thrown to the floor as the coach came to a sudden stop. Lord Vorace put his head out of the window to give his driver a dressing down for causing him so much discomfort.

Before he could shout at his unfortunate employee a pistol was thrust in his face. His followed the arm, holding the weapon, to the masked face and rested on the waistcoat barely restraining the bosom of the female outlaw. His face went white as he realised his predicament.

"Not so brave now, are we your Lordship, shall I give you what you deserve, a facefull of powder and a bullet?" said Genevieve angrily.

"Please, madam, I am at my disadvantage, what do you want?" Lord Vorace spluttered.

"I will relieve you of the money you have gained dishonestly and find a better, illegal use for it," stated Genevieve firmly," and I will take the purse of your disagreeable companion at the same time. Good morning Lord Parsimon, it is my displeasure to come across you again"

"Here, Harold give her my purse, and yours too, and quick about it, this woman is a devil she will take our lives on a whim if she chooses," blabbered Lord Parsimon," and remember her companions waiting in the woods"

Lord Vorace handed over the money to Genevieve.

"I wish you a bad day then Gentlemen, hoping that it doesn't improve, although before that you have a choice to make," she said a little teasingly.

"What is that?" asked Lord Vorace, beginning to sober a little and thinking of an immediate riposte.

"You can either sit in your stationary coach or you can move your precious bodies and untie your driver," Genevieve answered, laughing, as she turned Prince and galloped away congratulating herself on her stratagem of throwing a rope around the driver to bring the coach to a halt.

The sound of the rifle discharging and the feeling of a sudden, sharp pain in her shoulder merged into one unpleasant sensation. She jolted forward in her saddle, nearly falling off, grabbing the rains to steady herself and almost bringing Prince to a painful stop. She reached up to her shoulder and felt the new stickiness there.

Back in the carriage Lord Verace noted the effect of his rifle shot hitting the masked outlaw with satisfaction. He was pleased that the woman would pay for her impudence. He hoped that he had mortally wounded her, although he doubted it at such a distance. He turned to where the driver was normally sitting.

"Come on man, move this carriage now!" he shouted.

There was a muffled response. Lord Vorace stepped out to ascertain the reason for the non response of his employee then, remembering the masked outlaw's reference, he made his way forward to release his hapless servant.

Genevieve slipped off her horse on reaching the shelter of some trees and, after tying up Prince, pulled her shirt down to see the extent of the damage. The top part of her clothes were sodden and red but to her relief she discovered that the ball from the rifle had luckily passed through the flesh between her neck and her shoulder leaving behind two clean wounds. She removed her tunic and ripped the arms of her shirt off to provide a rough dressing and then jumped back on her horse.

Two hours later, feeling exhausted and a little faint from her loss of blood she made it back to her lodge.

"Miss Genevieve, you are hurt," said Malcolm with a note of anxiety in his voice.

"It is only a flesh wound, Malcolm, it should be fine, will you put Prince away and then ask Bessie to make me up a bath?" she asked her faithful handyman.

"Of course Miss Genevieve, let me help you down," responded Malcolm.

Genevieve slipped off Prince, faster than she intended due to her tiredness, luckily her tall, black servant caught her expertly.

"Thank you, Malcolm, you are so strong and manly," Genevieve whispered.

The feel of his closeness overwhelmed her senses, already heightened by the danger she had been in earlier, and she put her arms around Malcolm's head and pulled him towards her, devouring his lips eagerly. He responded briefly and then pushed her away gently.

"Dear Genevieve, we cannot be intimate here, we will be seen," he whispered, before turning to unsaddle Prince.

"Please Malcolm, I want you so much, will you come and pleasure me later," she asked, smiling at her lover.

"Of course, my sweet lady, how can I refuse such a request," responded Malcolm.

Some hours later Genevieve was brushing her dark hair, after having bathed and eaten and having a clean dressing applied by Bessie. Apart from some soreness in the shoulder she felt remarkably well and pleased at the morning's encounter.

She heard a noise and turned to see Malcolm silhouetted in the door frame. He closed the door behind him and almost silently and gracefully moved over to stand behind her. She felt his hands gently caress her good shoulder and her back. She stood to face him and he moved his caresses to her face and then, slipping her gown off her shoulders so that she was naked, to her breasts. She pulled him over to her bed and he discarded his clothes on the way.

He kissed her gently and then used his lips and his tongue to excite her. He began with her her nipples, then after she was completely aroused there, he moved down her body, slowly kissing each part in turn. She was soon lost in her arousal as his tongue entered her vulva. Finally he took her small erect member in his mouth to push her closer to her climax. Too soon she was spurting inside his mouth. He swallowed her small amount of discharge and smiled at her.

"Ohh Malcolm, that was wonderful, now take me please," she gasped.

"Always my pleasure, my lovely lady," he replied.

Malcolm moved his body forward and slowly entered her moist channel. Genevieve was almost semiconscious with the pleasure of the penetration as Malcolm moved into a slow rhythm that soon gave her more wonderful sensations.

Genevieve stirred from her slumbers and immediately felt the emptiness of the absence of Malcolm from her bed. She heard some indistinct shouting from afar.

Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and Bessie stood there, out of breath after obviously having rushed from somewhere.

"Oh, Miss Genevieve you must flee, Lord Vorace is outside with a band of the yeomanry." she said in a great panic.

---

To Be Continued...
 
End of Part Four

"Enough! You have wasted time already with your stupidity, away before I shoot you, go and order the remainder of the troop to be ready to move at once!" shouted Lord Vorace. Genevieve smiled, with her lips, at Lord Vorace, " it seems, your lordship, that your visit is unfortunately curtailed?" Stand and Deliver - Part 5 by Alys

---

Part 5
 

Genevieve took a sip of her tea and looked at her guest. It was less than half an hour since Bessie had aroused her from her slumbers and urged flight from Lord Vorace and his yeomanry. After a few minutes Genevieve had succeeded in calming her housekeeper and reassured her that she, herself, was unlikely to be in immediate danger. Now she sat facing her potential accuser feeling very nervous.

"Was it possible that he had recognised me?" Genevieve thought, while looking carefully at the arrogant Lord pouring sugar into his tea and stirring it with vigour. He seemed to be staring at his cup with an expression of cruel pleasure, as if every turn of the spoon represented another poor African torn from their homeland to work on his Lordship's plantations in Jamaica.

"Well Lord Vorace, pray tell me the noble reason that has brought you to my household this afternoon?" Genevieve asked, as sweetly as possible.

"Lady Osborne, to wish to be in your company for a few moments is not reason enough?" oozed the slimy lordship, in reply.

Genevieve smiled a response, but with her lips alone.

"That is most kind, Lord Vorace, but I fear that a married man as successful in trade as yourself, with such pressures on their precious free moments, would need to find a more singular reason to visit an unattached young woman," Genevieve suggested, with a slight, but obvious emphasis on the word 'married'.

"Do not fear, Lady Osborne, or Genevieve if I may address you in a rather more familiar fashion, my presence here is not to impugn your honour but only to ensure your safety," replied Lord Vorace, letting his gaze move slightly from Genevieve's face to her shoulder.

"I am grateful for your consideration, sir, but in what way may I be at peril?" Genevieve enquired, noting the eyes staring at her shoulder as if trying to see whether there might be an injury under the clothing.

"I am sure that you have heard of a series of villainous attacks on persons of substance and quality by a female vagabond, known in the local parlance as 'Midnight Mary'," he stated, with disgust clear in his voice.

"I believe I may have heard some mention of an audacious highway woman," Genevieve countered, " although I must admit I am at a loss to understand how bodies of yeomanry, led by persons of 'quality' have so far failed to apprehend this lady"

Lord Vorace stiffened at the implied criticism in Genevieve's comment.

"Lady Osborne, I find such a remark......." began Lord Vorace before he was interrupted by one of his yeomen rushing into the room.

"Lord Vorace, Lord Vorace, we just saw her, bold as brass, sir!!", shouted the portly, middle aged soldier.

"William!" responded Lord Vorace in an angry tone, " please remember where you are, it is not your place to run into a lady's front room without being announced"

William stopped in his tracks, the excitement and enthusiasm completely drained out of his countenance.

"Please accept my apologies for intruding Lady Osborne," he said meekly, his hat doffed and his head lowered.

"There is no offence taken, William," responded Genevieve as warmly as possible, " everyone makes mistakes in their rush to announce urgent news or even in their eagerness to judge others"

"Now, man, tell me what you were babbling about!" commanded Lord Vorace angrily, clearly noting Genevieve's rebuke but content with having restored the true order of deference in the room.

"Sir, we saw her on the ridge, if we make after her now we can catch her by the copse," explained William urgently.

"You are trying my patience, soldier!" responded Lord Vorace, his face turning red with rage," who on earth are you talking about. Quick man, explain, before I have you and your family put out of your cottage and driven off my land!"

"Sir, sorry sir, we saw her, sir, your Lordship, yes we saw the woman, sir, your Majesty, the Midnight Mary, sir, please don't throw me and mine out of our home, sorry your Lordship, please forgive me...." spluttered the yeoman, fearfully.

"Enough! You have wasted time already with your stupidity, away before I shoot you, go and order the remainder of the troop to be ready to move at once!" shouted Lord Vorace.

Genevieve smiled, with her lips, at Lord Vorace, " it seems, your lordship, that your visit is unfortunately curtailed?"

"Indeed, Lady Osborne, I must seek your leave to join my men in our mission to rid our county of this miscreant. I bid you good day," said Lord Vorace, before rising, bowing, with a fashionable click of the heels, and departing.

Genevieve sighed and sat back in her chair, the tension within her dissipating. She put out her hand and rubbed her injured shoulder. She felt a little moisture in the material covering her wound. She stood and made her way to her bedroom to change the dressing.

She untied the laces at the top of her dress to expose her shoulder and began to slowly remove the tightly wrapped fabric.

"Oh Lady Osborne, you are safe," said Bessie, sounding very relieved as she walked in a few minutes later carrying some clean pieces of material, slightly pink in places," I have some new coverings for you, I must apologise for the discolouration, there was blood on your sheets two weeks ago and I have not been able to completely remove the stains"

"Yes, Bessie I am safe, the immediate threat is over, please do not fret and don't worry about the material I'm sure that it will be perfect as a bandage." responded Genevieve, reassuringly," I told you my plan would work and it has been a complete success so far, now everything depends on your Malcolm."

High on the hill above the country lodge Malcolm stood near Prince, Genevieve's horse, in the shadow of a large gorse bush. He felt stupid wearing a mask, a wig and a lady's cloak but he was pleased with the effect on the soldiers below of his fleeting appearance in the open. He finished strapping the dressed human sized mannequin to the handsome steed and then, checking that the yeomanry were making their way up the hill, sent him on his way with a slap across his rump.

Immediately there was a hue and cry and the line of soldiers, on horseback, altered their direction to follow Prince, as he sped away from the bush where Malcolm sheltered. Genevieve's handyman and lover watched as the lightly encumbered Prince quickly increased the gap between himself and the pursuers before entering the thick forest.

Once the coast was clear Malcolm rose from the bush, under which he had been squatting, and quickly removed his lady's outer garments. Luckily Genevieve had planned for such an occasion and the plan that they were carrying out now was the one that they had devised in the event of her being trapped in the lodge with some suspicious company. He began making his way down the hill.

An hour later, a little tired after walking through the fields, Malcolm walked into the kitchen to find Bessie taking some scones out of the oven and putting them on a tray with a pot of newly brewed tea.

"Hello Mama," he said.

"Malcolm!" she responded excitedly, moving over to hug her son," you took longer than I thought, I was afraid that you would be caught"

"It's OK Mama, our Lady's plan was perfect and by this time Lord Vorace and his men will be covered in scratches from the thickets in the forest," responded Malcolm, stroking the gray hair of his mother, " and Prince will be half way home, we have trained him well to follow that route home on his own"

"Miss Genevieve said we should join her when you returned," said Bessie, after she had extracted herself from Malcolm's hug," come, you can carry the tray for your old Mama"

About a quarter of an hour later Genevieve swallowed the last piece of her scone, " they were wonderful, you are such an admirable cook, Bessie"

"Nothing like Mama's cooking," added Malcolm.

"Thank you Miss Genevieve," responded Bessie, smiling," but if I could say one thing after this morning's scare"

"What is that?" asked Genevieve.

"Please Miss Genevieve could you take a rest from your adventures on horseback, I fear that next time you will not be so lucky," Bessie pleaded.

"I think I will take your advice and recuperate," replied Genevieve, " well at least until my shoulder is fully healed"

The others laughed and then for the rest of the day, after rewarding Prince on his successful return, the three occupied themselves with their various tasks in maintaining the household.

Two days later found Genevieve bending over the toilet bowl, relieving herself of her breakfast.

She heard Bessie come into the room.

"What ails you, Miss Genevieve," she asked with a strong note of concern in her voice.

"I cannot fathom it Bessie I have just been feeling sick for the last two days in the morning," Genevieve replied.

Bessie looked at the expression on Genevieve's face before responding quietly, "I think you may be with child Miss Genevieve"

Genevieve was shocked by such a suggestion, "But Bessie, how is that possible, I have never been affected by the Menses"

"I know, Miss Genevieve, that it has never afflicted you and I have always wondered at your luck in avoiding the monthly woman's curse," responded Bessie," but what about the blood on your sheet last month"

"Oh heavens, perhaps it has started for me.....that is a bit of a shock I never thought that my unique anatomy would allow such a thing," said Genevieve, holding her hand to her mouth in surprise.

"Could I be bold enough to ask who might be the father?" asked the Bessie.

Genevieve smiled at her housekeeper.

"My dear sweet Bessie who would have thought that one day I might be presenting you with your grandchild," she responded.

Bessie was silent and showed her complete shock for a few seconds, "Grandchild? Who, what? Do you mean my Malcolm, oh, Miss Genevieve"

Genevieve smiled and nodded her head and then took the mother of her lover in her arms to share the moment of joy at the discovery of her parturient state.

"That is a touching family scene, I'm sure that Judge Viscerate will be pleased to arrange adjacent gallows for Midnight Mary and her servant," were the chilling words of a familiar voice, interrupting the celebration.

The two women turned to see Lord Vorace standing in the doorway pointing two raised pistols at them.

---

To Be Continued...
 
End of Part Five

"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

---

Part 6
 

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.

---

To Be Concluded Next Chapter
 
End of Part Six

"One....Two....Three....." slowly counted Genevieve, cocking her pistols, " Four....Five....Six...."       She stood perfectly balanced, took aim and continued counting," Seven....Eight....."       Suddenly Captain Wilcox shouted out," Please don't shoot! I'll do it! Please don't shoot!"       Stand And Deliver - Part 7 - Conclusion by Alys

---

Part 7 - Conclusion
 

Genevieve quickly threw off the fleeces that had been too successful in bringing slumber so that she had failed to respond to the approach of her intruder. She rose to look at the figure of her erstwhile suitor silhouetted in the cave mouth by the autumn sunlight.

"Captain Wilcox this is an unexpected and pleasant surprise," she said, smiling as she attempted to brush down her crumpled attire," although I am alarmed at your threat to my person."

"I regret that I make no idle threat to your safety, dear lady," said the Captain as he walked towards Genevieve," I only state the duty that has been placed on me as an officer in the Somerset County Yeomanry."

"Well sir please explain what information compels you to escort me to prison and to a fate, that you suggest, would be my certain execution?" asked Genevieve as she sought to maintain a conversation while she considered her prospects for escape.

"My dearest lady it seems that Lord Vorace has indisputable evidence of your identity as the notorious outlaw Midnight Mary," Captain Wilcox explained.

While keeping her gaze and her smile focused on the Captain, Genevieve considered her options. Her horse and her weapons were at the back of the cave and there was no possibility that, encumbered by skirts as she was, she would be able to reach them before being apprehended. There seemed to be no way to escape bar doing something that was distasteful. She mouthed a silent apology to Malcolm and took a small step forward.

"Well Percival surely you cannot believe that someone with breeding such as myself could possibly be a common brigand," Genevieve said as she reached out a hand to touch the Captain's cheek.

Captain Wilcox, initially startled by the Genevieve's caress, placed his hand over hers and brought if to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Oh Genevieve, my sweetest lady, how could such a thing be true?" He asked as he pulled her into his arms, before placing his mouth on hers and frantically kissing her.

Genevieve endured the slobbering attention even as she felt the need to retch. Percival, his initial mad passion a little sated, gazed longingly into her eyes.

"Oh Genevieve I have waited so long for this moment, my sweetest love," he gushed," I am sure that once you explain things to Lord Vorace he will realise his mistake."

"Except Percival......." she began.

"Except what? Genevieve," said Captain Wilcox as he released her from his grip and stared at her with a look of confusion.

"Except it is true!," yelled Genevieve as she pointed the two pistols, she had taken from Captain Wilcox's belt, straight at him.

"But Genevieve I don't understand," blubbered the Captain," you are such a sweet lady....."

"I am sorry, Percival but I have to be blunt for you to understand. The truth is you are a stupid oaf who would have been better advised to seek the hand of a farmer's daughter rather than mine," Genevieve said," but I grant that you are not an evil man like Lord Vorace and Lord Parsimon."

"Genevieve please stop this madness," pleaded the captain.

"You ask the wrong person to stop their mad actions. It's the callous behaviour of their lordships who are happy to see the children of their tenants starve to death because of such crippling rents, so they can lose a few extra guineas on the gambling tables that needs to be stopped." Genevieve stated forcefully, " I am proud that my actions have filled a few empty bellies this winter."

Captain Wilcox stared at Genevieve with astonishment, he could not comprehend how a lady of breeding, such as his captor, could be preaching such seditious nonsense. How could anyone question the actions of such noble people as their lordships.

"Now, time is short, Percival, please take off your clothes," Genevieve commanded.

"I will do no such thing!" exclaimed Captain Wilcox angrily.

"I have two shots," said Genevieve with venom," the first will remove your member, the second will destroy your heart. You will have the pain and ignominy of losing your manhood before you lose your life. I will then take your corpse to display naked in Bath Market Square. I hope your family will appreciate the humiliation your stupidity has brought upon them."

The Captain turned white with fear as Genevieve delivered her threats with utterly convincing confidence. He stood as if paralysed.

"I am counting to ten before pulling the triggers," Genevieve said icily," if you do not wish to comply with my request I suggest you make peace with your maker."

Captain Wilcox continued to stare blankly at Genevieve as if the complete twist in events was something his slow brain was struggling to make sense of.

"One....Two....Three....." slowly counted Genevieve, cocking her pistols, " Four....Five....Six...."

She stood perfectly balanced, took aim and continued counting," Seven....Eight....."

Suddenly Captain Wilcox shouted out," Please don't shoot! I'll do it! Please don't shoot!"

He began furiously removing his garments. In a few moments he stood naked, with his clothes and weapons in an untidy heap on the floor.

"Start walking out of the cave, quickly!" commanded Genevieve, knowing that she needed to take rapid advantage of the Captain's pliant state.

She followed him out into the open air before directing him to continue down the slope towards a distant farmhouse. Captain Wilcox hurried away, obviously still petrified by the unexpected change of character in his former lady friend. Genevieve stood and watched with a slight smile on her lips as the naked man made his way gingerly across the damp heather.

Although it was late in the year it was a sunny day and she was certain that he would come to no great physical harm having to walk in the open air for the few hours it would take him to reach the nearest farm.

After a few minutes she turned back into the cave to gather the few items that might enable someone to trace her subsequent whereabouts and soon was making her way astride Prince, with the Captain's horse in tow.

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Some hours later she had reached a lonely copse. She quickly dismounted and disrobed before dressing in the male disguise she had used to visit Warrington's Grain and Victual Suppliers. She dug a hole and buried her female clothes along with her jewellery and then, after she had completed that task she prepared herself for the emotional farewell.

Prince was peacefully grazing the lush grass in the open ground near the tree. He whinnied in delight as she approached him. He had been her constant companion nearly all the time she had lived in her lodge after returning from Africa.

Genevieve stroked his head gently.

"I'm so sorry my darling Prince, but if you stay with me I will be in danger," she whispered gently.

She took off his saddle and harness and with one final stroke of his body she urged him onwards with a last command.

"Go, my darling, go and find some others and rejoice in your freedom!"

Prince slowly walked away and then began trotting as he realised that he was unencumbered before breaking into a gallop of joy.

She watched as he sped across the open field, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, before returning to the shelter of the trees, mounting the Captain's mare and heading away from the valley.

Some hours later she had reached a hilltop overlooking the place where she had left Bessie and Malcolm the previous day, the staging post a little outside Reading. She dismounted, removed the horse's harness and sent her running away, without the emotion that she had earlier felt on Prince's departure. She then made her way down to the inn to await the next coach to London.

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Lady Vivian Hamilton watched with deep concern as the man, her recently rather rotund husband, made his way slowly towards the summer house in the concealed corner of their gardens. Even in the cool temperature of the early June morning the effort of walking was making him sweat. Although she wondered what could be afflicting her sweet Oliver that necessitated him wearing many layers of clothing even on the warmest day.

"My dearest Oliver," she said as he neared where she was sitting on the veranda," I fear that your condition worsens by the day."

"Yes, my sweetest Vivian, it is indeed true that my medical condition advances," he replied, before slowly making his way up the steps and sitting next to her on the bench.

"Do the learned doctors in London still have nothing to resist the progression of your illness," she asked.

"Regretfully not," Oliver replied," and if such a thing were ever found then the person responsible would have many, many souls wishing to bestow fame and wealth on him or her."

"I can only wish that it were so in time to save you, Oliver," said Vivian, sadly.

"Vivian I have asked you here so that we can talk discretely. I have to go to the capital for my condition, indeed for the final treatment. If it is successful I will only be able to leave London after a long period of convalescence and will not be able to return for maybe as long as a year," he stated.

"Even a year would not be a long time to wait for your return to health," responded Vivian.

"However it is very possible that I will not survive this final period of nursing and in which case I just wanted to reassure you that I have made all provisions in my will for everything to pass to you, rather than my grasping relative Lord Parsimon," Oliver stated," I also have a notary in Bath with all the legal documents in case the greedy lordship attempts to challenge your title."

"Oh, Oliver you are so generous but please do not think of such an outcome.....Oliver is something wrong, what is it? she asked as she saw him wince in pain and suddenly put his hands to his stomach.

"It's nothing it's just the movement of the bab......" Oliver gasped before stopping in mid-sentence with the import of what had been said.

"Oliver, did you say baby?" Vivian asked in bewilderment.

Her husband turned towards her and after gently caressing her face said," my dearest Vivian, I never planned you to find out my strange secret but since I may never see you alive again, maybe it is well that you have this knowledge, please come with me into the summer house."

Vivian followed Oliver into an inner room and watched as all the curtains were closed.

"Vivian I am going to show you something you have never seen before, my unclothed body. Please be warned it is not as you would expect it to look or even maybe desire it to be. You must promise to keep this our secret and not to be so alarmed that you rush from this place," he said.

"My dearest husband, who had given me so much pleasure over the years, I will gladly keep my own counsel." she responded.

Slowly Oliver began to remove his clothes. Firstly his breeches and then his topcoat. Vivian was surprised to see how large his stomach had become when compared to his slim frame. Then Oliver removed his over-shirt and Vivian was shocked to see the shape of his chest was quite womanly under the remainder of his clothes. Then the underpants fell showing that part of her husband's body that had given her so much joy, although she was surprised how small his flaccid member appeared. Finally Oliver removed his undershirt and, upon viewing the strange naked body in front of her, Vivian felt light headed and had to grasp the back of a chair to stop herself fainting.

"But how is this possible, Oliver, you are a woman!," she blurted out, " a woman with child!"

"Please sit down my dear," Oliver replied," let me dress again and then we can return to the veranda and I will tell you my unusual story."

Some minutes later the couple had returned to their seats and Oliver began telling the story of being brought up as a boy but then once the previously considered male body had began to develop along more female lines, being sent away to live on the family estate in the Gold Coast of Africa and then taking on the identity of a girl and then a young woman.

The death of the rest of the family, in a boating accident, had meant returning in male guise to take over the title, the businesses and the property in England bringing back Bessie and Malcolm, whom he had rescued from a slavers' market. The explanation of the pregnancy was a little difficult for Vivian to listen to but at last the story was complete.

"What is your feminine name?" asked Vivian while looking at her husband carefully.

"Genevieve," was the reply.

Vivian put her hand to her mouth, "oh I see it now, you're Lady Osborne!"

"Yes," Oliver/Genevieve replied," it was my Mother's title before marrying and ironically it was mine by inheritance."

"It is a very strange affair indeed," responded Vivian thoughtfully.

"My sweet lady," said Oliver/Genevieve, " I will understand if you demand a divorce under these circumstances."

There was a silence between the two for a while and then Vivian turned to her husband.

"My dearest Oliver, and please excuse me using the masculine name since even though you are clearly more of a Genevieve, it is the form of address I am familiar with," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully," I do not wish for a divorce and let me tell you why."

Vivian then explained how she had dreaded being with child herself, especially after the deaths of both her sisters while giving birth. She had been eternally grateful to discover that her couplings with her husband had not been successful in that regard. However she had many regrets that their household had not been blessed with the presence of offspring.

She had also felt herself lucky that her intimate moments with Oliver were always so pleasurable unlike the mistreatment that her woman friends received from their brutish spouses.

"So you see, my husband, why would I ever want to be with anyone else," she said gently," and furthermore I would be honoured if you felt me worthy enough to be a mother to your child, or should I say one of his or her mothers."

Oliver/Genevieve took Vivian in her arms and responded," Thank you."

The couple sat holding each other for a long time as tears of joy rolled freely down their cheeks.

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The pains were excruciating as Genevieve lay on her bed in her beautiful room inside the Pall Mall house in London. She felt exhausted after many hours of labour.

"Miss Genevieve, please try this, it might make things easier," suggested Bessie who had been by her side throughout," the wise women in my home village always practised it when they helped bring new babies into the world"

Bessie and Malcolm helped Genevieve stand against the bed, each movement seeming to exacerbate the agony but once she was standing she felt a lot more in control. She felt her baby being pulled down from her. She redoubled her internal pushing and soon the head appeared and then suddenly all the internal pressure had gone as Bessie took the infant into her arms.

Some minutes later, while Bessie cleaned up, Genevieve held her beautiful brown skinned baby girl to her bosom.

As she kissed the still damp tiny forehead she reflected on the fact of at last being able to stand and deliver.

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The End