22, June, 1812
Later that Evening
Armaan paid his two accomplices the money he promised them, the two men thanked him and went off without a second glance. Usually, Armaan dealt with these things on his own, but tonight he knew he needed help, hence the other two men.
Stealing paintings, silver, artifacts, jewellery and Greek busts, was one thing, and usually easy enough to deal with himself, but he knew that there would be more than one person in the carriage, and if he had tried to take care of this little problem on his own, he might not have succeeded. It pained him to destroy the beautiful barouche, as it was grand and ornate. His father paid a heavy purse for the wretched thing, and he held it as one of his highest possessions.
Yet destroy it he did, since it was easily recognizable. He could not hide it as well as he hid the other items he stole, which included items that had once belonged to the Malik family, since he didn't want to raise suspicion, or draw attention to himself. Yes, he could hide the other things in the attic of his townhouse, but he could not hide the carriage, and he would not abide someone else having it, so he was left with no choice.
He had heard that the Parliament had given it to that Atul Joshi, for services rendered to England during the first war. What was Armaan's bounty? Where were his just rewards for his services rendered during the war? He was not recognized as a war hero, because he acted as spy, and only a handful knew, but that handful included the current Minister (The Head of Parliament), and still, the blasted man chose to reward Armaan by seizing all of his father's property.
Oh, they let Armaan keep the things that were his own, possessions and monies he inherited from his grandparents, and things that were endowed to him, like his townhouse, and a few other properties, since he was of legal age. Everything that was his father's, including their Mansion and all its belongings, were given away, like chattel. Well, if Armaan could not have any of it, he did not want anyone else to have it. That was just the type of man he was, arrogant, proud, and selfish. Some would even call him unkind. Yes, Armaan Malik was an unkind and selfish man and proud of it.
The woman in the carriage called him a coward. It hurt for her to call him that, especially her, especially since he knew that was how she really felt. She had called him a coward one time before, and it hurt just as much this time as it did the last time.
He was surprised to find Riddhima in the carriage. She had not changed much. She was still very beautiful, with a rapier wit. He always loved exchanging barbs with her when they were growing up. Her and her books! He laughed when he thought of her in school. She forever had her nose in a book! While the other girls flitted about, with pretty flocks and their hair styled more for parties than school, Riddhima only seemed to care about learning.
His sources told him that Atul's sister-in-law and step-sister-in-law would be travelling in the carriage tonight, moving to London to find husbands, but he had no idea that meant Riddhima. He knew they would not be travelling with guards, so he knew that with two other men, he could easily overthrow their men, but if he had known she was there, he would have been better prepared.
Alternatively, maybe he would not have done it at all.
The thought that Riddhima was here to find a husband was almost laughable. God help the man who tried to tame that shrew. It was apparent she was not here of her own freewill. Armaan never intended to marry. But he could not help but think, what it would be like if they were to marry. Just imagine Rahul Garewal's, (the youngest English army Lieutenant's) best friend married to the son of Mr Malik, the French Army's most trusted advisor. Why, it boggled Armaan's mind just thinking about it.
She was fetching. She was also quick witted, beautiful, and fearless. He might enjoy pursuing her. There was a time that she could have been his easily, during the end of the war. Then, she thought he became a turncoat, although that was not the truth. She called him a coward back then, on that fateful night, just as she called him one tonight.
No, he would not waste one moment on someone like her!
The last time he was in France, right after the war, he had heard that Madam Padma's husband had died, but it was surprising that she married again, and that to an Englishman. Then again, Mr. Gupta was very wealthy, and titled, a baronet, or maybe even a viscount. Madam Padma used to be very wealthy, although with the death of her husband, she was no longer so. He knew that he had once heard Rahul say that Riddhima's father had always wanted her to marry an Englishman, and nothing below a marquess, an earl or even a duke would do for his precious daughter. He wondered if Riddhima would marry anyone below such titles.
He almost froze when he opened the door to the carriage and saw her there. She was always so brave. She would have duelled them all, and probably won. He was glad she had no swords on her. He thought she might have recognized him, but then again, he did conceal his face with a black mask and he wore an old tricorne hat. However, only his eyes were recognizable, and she could see them behind the mask. He was sure if she had recognized him, she would have called him out for it.
Armaan's valet, Nana, knocked on the door. Armaan called out that he would see to his own needs tonight. He was tired. So very tired. He removed his cloak and cravat, and pulled off one boot. He sat on his bed before pulling off the other. He leaned over, grabbed his cloak from the floor, and took out her book. He wondered why an old book of nursery tales was so important to her. He huffed and threw it on the bedside table, before removing his other boot, and letting it fall to the floor with a thud.
He lay on his back, picked up the book again, and leafed through the pages. She had said that her mother had given it to her. He hated that taking it caused her so much distress. He had certainly caused her a lot of distress throughout their lives. First in school, and then during the war.
He sat up and threw the book across the room. The insolent chit! She called him a coward tonight! He had not meant to hurt her! She hit her head when the carriage stopped, but that was not his fault. She also got hurt when one of the accomplices pushed her aside, again that too was not his fault. Though she had shed a tear, he would feel no guilt'hell, making women cry was one of his fortes.
Nevertheless, to risk her life for a book was beyond foolish! She did not know it was he! She did not know that it was not a real highwayman. A real robber might have raped her, killed her, and all for a stupid book! A child's book! Full of fables and tell tales! He stood, walked over to the book, where it laid on the floor, cover opened to an inscription, written inside the front cover.
He leaned forward, picked it up, and read the inscription aloud.
To my darling daughter,
I am so proud of you. You are my bright, shining light, and someday, when I am gone, I shall be yours. Look to the brightest star in heaven, and know that it is I, looking down upon thee, gracing your life with love and light and happiness. May you find your happy ending daughter, because I found mine, the moment you were born.
Love, your mother.
"Bollocks!" he shouted. Now he would have to give it back to her, would he not? To not do so would make him a coward, of sorts. The sooner the better. He walked over to the desk, and opened the top drawer. He picked up a piece of parchment that had all the items he had yet to steal back. On the top was, "Father's barouche." He crossed that out with a quill, folded the list, and stuffed it in the bottom of the draw, along with Riddhima's book.
He decided to get some sleep, for tomorrow evening there was an assembly in the town hall, and since most of the community would attend, he might be able to recoup a few more items tomorrow night, when people were out of their houses.
On the other hand, if Riddhima Gupta was at the assembly, he might just have to go there instead, and claim the first dance, and the second, and all others.
He smiled, and went back over to his bed. He soon drifted off to sleep, dreaming of books, carriages, and curly brown hair.
********************
The next morning, the Joshi's were recounting the girls' horrible experience, once again, this time to Riddhima's friends, Rahul Garewal, his wife, Muskaan, and Muskaan's brother Prem. Riddhima was quiet, while Niki gave everyone all of the horrific details.
"It was ghastly," Niki repeated for the fifth time. "But Riddhima was ever so brave. She did not even cry when one robber manhandled her. I would have cried right away."
Rahul looked over at Riddhima and said, "You were manhandled, too?"
"It was nothing, just got a scrape on my arm," she said, taking a bun and lathering butter on it. Anjali called the maid to clear the breakfast table, although Riddhima was still eating. Apparently, Anjali thought Riddhima had had enough to eat.
"Let us take a stroll along the gardens, Riddhima," Rahul said, offering her his arm. The two friends went out the back of the cottage, to stroll the gardens. Rahul's countenance was rigid and reserved. Riddhima realized that he was upset that she had been put in danger.
"Really Rahul," Riddhima reeled, "Niki made everything seem so much more adventuresome, with villains and fair maidens in distress. She made it seem romantic almost. It's a good thing I did not tell her that the highwayman offered my book back to me, for a kiss."
Rahul stopped walking. He turned and said, "If I find this man, he shall die a painful death."
"Oh, Rahul," Riddhima said with a small laugh. "Please." The truth was, Niki made Riddhima seem braver, and the highwayman more dashing, when the truth was that Riddhima was frightened the entire time, and the highwayman was a rake, although he had a nice smile, and a pleasant demeanor, and the most unusual colour of eyes. His eyes seemed almost familiar.
Rahul broke her from her thoughts when he touched her arm and said, "Are you truly in good health, Riddhima?"
"Yes, but I feel badly that Atul lost such a fine carriage," she said, as they walked along.
"There have been a number of robberies in London over the last two months," Rahul confided. "The Parliament believes it is an organized group. They are thinking about laying a trap for the rogues."
"Really?" she asked. "Perhaps I would have been safer in France."
"Among the frogs?" Rahul asked with a sly smile.
"That is not at all kind, Mr. Garewal," Riddhima said with an equally sly smile.
Rahul asked, "Do you miss your adopted home, Riddhima?"
"My mother was French, you know. She considered herself an English woman, but she was born in France. I, too, am proud of being English, but I love my French heritage. I miss it. I am a simple country girl at heart," she said, wistfully. "I hate coming here, and I resent the fact that I must parade around in pretty ball gowns, just to sell myself to the highest bidder." She sat on a stone bench and kicked at the pebbled path with the toe of her boot.
"I say," Prem said, approaching them, "What are you two conspiring about over there?"
"We are talking about amphibians," Riddhima joked.
"Frogs to be exact," Rahul added.
"Well, on to more tepid conversations, I am sure, but what say you that we go to the assembly tonight. Show off Niki and Riddhima to the members of the town?" Prem said. "Our girl here will be the prettiest girl there, save for my Heer and your Muskaan, of course."
Niki came running out and said, "Yes, Riddhima! Atul thought we should rest after our harrowing experience, but my sister insists that we go! We are to go shopping for gowns today! We leave in an hour!" The young girl ran back to the house.
Riddhima sighed and said, "She shall have no trouble finding a husband, with at least five thousand a year."
"What of you, Riddhima?" Rahul asked, as Prem followed Niki back to the house. "I remember a time when your father dictated that nothing but a titled English Man was good enough for his daughter."
Riddhima looked down and said, "He is very ill, Rahul. I think he wants me settled, because he fears he might not have long to live, and he has set his new wife to the task."
"Be careful, with whom you choose, Riddhima."
"Don't worry I shall not accept just anyone, Rahul," she replied.
"If your father dies, your stepmother will have the say. Even though you have reached your majority, you are a single woman, and the oldest living male relative, or his representative must approve marriage. It is an old law, but an active one."
Rahul looked gravely at her. "But my father would never force me to marry if I did not wish it, and he will get better, so there is no need to fear," she said, hoping that was the truth.
As soon as everyone was ready to go into town, she feigned an illness, to stay behind, for she had a lot to consider. What if her new mother did force her to marry someone she did not wish? Perhaps she should go back to France, war or not, on her own. She knew it was silly to worry over nothing, her father would be well again, but still, the loss of her book made her miss her mother again, as silly as that seemed, and she felt the loss acutely, which made her fear of losing her father more likely.
She sat under a tall tree, on the ground, to consider such a plan, when she felt something hit her arm. She looked around, and saw nothing. She crossed her legs in front of her, and closed her eyes, when she felt another 'thing' hit her, this time on the thigh. She looked down, and there was a small pebble on her skirt.
She looked around and again, saw nothing. She was curious now, so she crossed her arms, closed her eyes once more, and the third time she felt something, she looked up. Among the branches, and the leaves, high up in the tree, was the masked man from the night before.
Riddhima stood up as she screamed.
The man, surprised by her scream, fell to the ground, and landed on his back, by her skirts. She looked down at him, and he peered up at her.
"My lady," he said with a wince, from his place on the ground.
"Sir," she said back.
"How does one know if one has a broken bone?" he asked.
"You have no broken bones, I am sure," she replied.
"Are you certain? You surely cannot ascertain my injuries from way up there, and I assure you, I feel intense pain, everywhere," he said, still on the ground.
"That is your problem, not mine," she said, slightly amused. "However, it is so nice of you to drop by. I do hope you have my book with you."
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