Aberrant Robber

by James Gervois

Overview

Travel in 1680’s England was fraught with peril and to hear the words ‘stand and deliver’ would petrify you, knowing you were about to be robbed by a highwayman or Tamar Ellerby, the twenty-one year old daughter of a vicar, who took up her pistols and became the ‘Aberrant Robber’. Mixing with the landed gentry, Tamar falls in love with a Lord’s son but almost dies having an abortion after her lover proves unfaithful.

Gambling is ruining Cornelius Clarkson, the son of a Yorkshire squire and the able lieutenant of John Bannister, the main handler of stolen goods in the North of England. Clarkson becomes greedier and starts to keep stolen goods for himself with the result that Bannister arranges for his arrest and subsequent hanging. Clarkson manages to escape, meeting Tamar during a robbery, deciding he can use her to ruin Bannister. Tamar never trusts Clarkson and discovering Bannister’s hidden stash, finds herself the ‘heiress’ of the men’s wealth in a sudden twist of fate, outwitting the authorities in the process.

‘Aberrant Robber’ portrays the lives of people in 1680’s England where life was cheap, poverty was widespread and a life of crime appealed to many. ‘Aberrant Robber’ depicts the real villainy, the real harshness and the real corruption of the times.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781783086528
Publisher:	Anthem Press
Publication date:	02/01/2017
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	250
File size:	521 KB

About the Author

James Gervois has written three novels, all historical fiction.

Read an Excerpt

Aberrant Robber

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By James Gervois

Wimbledon Publishing Company

Copyright © 2017 James Gervois
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78308-652-8

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CHAPTER 1

Aberrant Robber

by James Gervois

Hobbling his horse, Will flicked a glance at the copse before looking across the meadow, sure that the men working there had not noticed him. He walked slowly, feeling the warmth of the sun on his back, the prickle of sweat on his brow. Passing the first trees, Will carefully stepped through the brambles and ferns, making little or no sound. He soon reached the glade, seeing the carpet of bluebells and the trunks of the silver birch glistening in the sunlight. Then he saw her, sitting on her cape, propped against one of the trees. Will crouched down and watched, feeling his heart beat faster.

He had known Sophia for the past nine years, played with her when they were children and now, he knew he was totally in love with her. Even though she was only sixteen, her body had blossomed into womanhood and, in Will's opinion, she was the most beautiful of Sir Thomas Osborne's five daughters. Will was transfixed, seeing Sophia's eyes closed, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, enjoying the warmth. He saw her untie her kerchief and pull it from around her neck, exposing her cleavage, rolling it up and placing it behind her head. She then hoisted her petticoats, exposing her legs. Will unbuckled his sword belt and placed it on the ground and then he moved silently forward, stopping a few feet from Sophia, blocking out the sunlight. Sophia opened her eyes.

'Will!' She looked up at him, a smile spreading across her face. 'What are you doing here?'

Will smiled back. 'Spying on you. Looking at your magnificent body.'

Sophia pushed her petticoats down. 'You are impertinent, Will Hugill, disturbing a lady taking an afternoon nap. However, sit beside me.' Sophia patted the ground next to her.

Will needed no second invitation, quickly sitting beside her. 'What a lovely day and ... and finding you here, well, it's even better.'

'As if you didn't know where to find me,' Sophia joked. 'This has been our spot for years. Anyway, aren't you supposed to be working?'

Will leant back against the tree, resting his head against the trunk. 'The estate manager has gone to the market and as I have finished all the tasks he set ... well, I have time on my hands.' He flinched slightly, feeling Sophia push herself against him, her arm moving across his chest. She lay her head on his shoulder and Will could smell her perfume. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, the warmth of her body next to his.

'You're the most beautiful woman I know,' Will mumbled, 'and I know I am in love with you.'

Sophia giggled. 'I'm sure my sisters would disagree with you.'

'Your sisters! They're arrogant and dismissive and none of them have your beauty. Also, they aren't as clever as you.'

Sophia giggled again. 'My, my ... you certainly know how to charm a lady.'

'I'm only telling the truth.' Will smiled, pushing his arm behind Sophia's back, feeling her move closer to him.

'Tell me about your father.'

Will sighed. 'You know what happened. He fought in Prince Rupert's cavalry at Naseby when he was only sixteen and rode with the defeated King back to Hereford. He then ...'

'Two years younger than you are now,' interrupted Sophia. 'He must have been very brave.'

Will nodded. 'He certainly was. Anyway, he realised that the King was defeated and made his way to France, eventually joining up with the King's son, Charles, becoming one of his trusted bodyguards and going to the Channel Islands, Holland and eventually Scotland. He rode with Prince Charles to Worcester where they met Cromwell and following a bloody battle, he helped Charles to escape. In return, Charles knighted him but, when Cromwell found out, he sequestrated his estate.'

'It must have been awful for him ... and your mother,' Sophia said, her hand untying his shirt and gently stroking the hairs on Will's chest.

'Well, he spent most of his time in France and met my mother two years before Charles became King Charles II. He was due to get his estate back, thanks to your father's support, when he was set upon late one night by a gang of Catholics and killed. I was about eight at the time.'

'And Papa appointed your mother as our governess.' Sophia giggled, moving her hand down to stroke Will's belly. 'I suppose he thought, as she was French, she would bring a different discipline with her.'

Will smiled, looking down at the top of Sophia's head, seeing the thick, blonde hair, pulled severely back and tied with ribbon. 'Well ... my Mother can't have been too much of an ogre. You all still speak to her.'

Sophia leaned across and kissed Will's chest, her hand nudging at his waistband. 'Your Mother is a very nice lady. If only Papa was at home, everything would be perfect.'

'That is unfortunate to say the very least.' Will sighed. 'I've been told that your father created far too many political enemies, envious of his elevation under King Charles II's patronage. They ignored how successful he was as Lord Treasurer.'

'But he will be all right ... won't he?' Sophia asked, her hand loosening Will's waistband.

'I'm sure he will be released from the Tower soon,' Will replied reassuringly, 'and those who accused him of being a papist sympathiser know full well he was only acting in accordance with the King's instructions.'

'What are you doing?' Will asked, feeling Sophia's hand inside his breeches.

Sophia did not respond, taking Will's hand and placing it on her breast.

Will could feel himself becoming aroused, encouraged by Sophia. He pulled her hand out of his breeches. 'You must stop Sophia. We can't do this.'

Sophia glanced up at him, her lips moist, her eyes wide. 'Why not? It's only natural.'

'You know why not. You are the daughter of an Earl. I'm the son of a servant.'

Sophia laughed. She moved and straddled Will's body, her thighs clamping to his sides and then she started to move her pelvis against his. 'I know you are ready ... that you want to enter me. Take me Will ... I am yours ... I want you.'

Will bucked so hard, Sophia lost her balance and fell to the side. He rolled on top of her, gripping her arms above her head and looked down at her, breathing heavily. 'Of course I want you but you're not mine to have. That would be madness!'

Puckering her lips, Sophia pushed up against him, Will moving forward, his lips meeting hers. He could feel the warmth of her breath, sense her desire for him.

Suddenly, Sophia was screaming. Will sat up, momentarily taken aback, his mind slowly registering the words – rape, rape. Rough hands grabbed his arms, lifting him off Sophia and he was flung to the ground. A boot kicked him hard in his stomach, forcing him to double up, trying to catch his breath. A fist smashed into the side of his face, splitting his skin.

'You don't understand ... stop!' Will shouted out. He could see Sophia being helped up, see her pulling her skirts down and tying the kerchief around her neck, covering herself. She started to cry, pointing at him.

'He ... he ... forced me. He tried to ...' She sobbed, collapsing into the arms of the estate manager.

Someone kicked Will in the back, causing him to gasp. 'Please, you don't understand. You are ...'

The crack of the cudgel against Will's head silenced him.

Sitting in the darkened corner of the large, ornate room, Cornelius Clarkson could smell the fear of the man standing in front of John Bannister's magnificent, mahogany desk. The man wiped his sleeve across his brow, rocking back and forth, his hands gripping the edge of his hat. The man never took his eyes of Bannister. Clarkson grinned, enjoying the moment, appreciating the power Bannister had over others.

He had met Bannister more than ten years ago when he was in his late teens, bored with his life on the estate and anxious to find adventure. He had quickly realised that Bannister had the capability to provide him with the excitement he craved. Bannister had been visiting his uncle, Sir Godfrey Copley, the High Sheriff of Yorkshire and Clarkson had listened to the conversation, amazed that his uncle had agreed to pay Bannister twenty pounds for every highwayman and horse thief Bannister named who was successfully prosecuted.

Clarkson had determined he would find out as much as he could about this short, wiry man, with distinctively large ears, dressed in simple clothes. He had established that Bannister was the son of a craftsman who used to work on Wentworth's estate, that he had died in an accident and left Bannister's mother to bring up a family of eight children in near poverty. Bannister had left home at fifteen and gone to London where, rumour had it, he had joined a band of footpads, robbing wealthy merchants and making his fortune. When he had returned to Yorkshire, he had quickly wooed and married a squire's daughter and moved into this grand house at Conisbrough, his wife producing three healthy children.

With an income that was totally inadequate to fund Clarkson's lifestyle of gambling and whoring, he had started working for Bannister, gaining his trust, introducing him and his family to local dignitaries, Bannister quickly developing a liking for his role as a country squire. Clarkson made sure Bannister was always seen to be a stout upholder of the law, knowing full well that Bannister was now the largest handler of stolen property in the north of the country. Between them they had developed a network of merchants and contacts whom they could approach to sell on any and all of the goods they received.

The man in front of the desk jumped as, disdainfully, Bannister threw the jewellery across the table, the man snatching at it and placing it back into the sack he was holding. Clarkson could see Bannister staring at the man, seeing the fear in the man's eyes, the sweat gathering on his brow. He knew Bannister always enjoyed these moments when he had a man cowering in front of him, fearful of his reputation, knowing he could decide if they lived or died.

'Worthless. Why do you bring me such junk?' Bannister said in his normal, quiet, measured voice, a voice that made even strong men tremble.

The man gulped. 'Please Sir. This is all I've got ... it must be worth something.'

Bannister stood up and walked to the window. Clarkson admired his dress, the deep red colour of the top coat, the lace cravat and cuffs, the silk stockings and fashionably pointed, heeled shoes. He saw Bannister turn round, looking at the man. 'I'll offer you a pound.'

'But Sir, this stuff must be worth a lot more than that,' the man whined.

'Take my offer or leave,' Bannister replied, waving his arm towards the door.

Clarkson saw Bannister's two minders walk slowly towards the man. 'I'll take the pound.'

Bannister held out his hand, taking the sack from the man. He dug into his waistcoat pocket, pulled out a pound coin and passed it to the man. He smiled. 'If you want to improve your lot, I hear the Bishop of Lincoln is travelling to Durham during the next few days. Apparently, he only has a few men with him. Travelling along the Great North Road.'

The man touched his forelock. 'Thank you Sir ... thank you for the information.' He turned and left the room, followed by the minders.

'Do you think he'll fall for it?' Clarkson asked, getting up from the chair and walking towards Bannister.

Bannister sat down and poured two glasses of wine, passing one across the desk to Clarkson. 'I'm sure a rogue like that will not be able to resist, especially as we know he runs with that band of ruffians in the forest near Pontefract.'

'It would be most enjoyable to see the pompous Bishop brought down a peg or two.' Clarkson took a sip of wine, appreciating the quality. 'And if he does rob the Bishop, we know where to look.'

Bannister held up his glass. 'Act quickly Cornelius and we can ... acquire the booty and ensure the Sheriff's men capture the miscreants.'

'And you can collect the twenty pounds a head when they are sentenced.'

Bannister chuckled. 'It also rids us of a troublemaker ... I don't trust the man.'

'Shall we go to town?' Clarkson knew Bannister liked visiting the hostelries and inns that were increasing in numbers as more and more travellers used Doncaster for overnight stops between Edinburgh and London. He also knew Bannister was always willing to get away from his frigid wife and spend the night with an appreciative young woman.

'Why not!' Bannister stood up, issuing instructions, demanding his carriage be brought to the front of the house, his overnight valise prepared. 'We should celebrate ... this stuff can wait until our return.' Bannister looked down at the stolen jewellery on the desk.

The whinnying of a horse permeated Will's brain. He opened his eyes, grimacing as pain shot through his head, Will reaching up, carefully touching the large lump at the back, feeling the matted hair. He looked around, knowing he was in the stables with their distinctive smells and the noise of nearby horses. He realised it was night time as he eased himself up, using the stable wall as support. A wave of giddiness swept over him, forcing him to close his eyes and grip the wall. He slipped down the wall into a crouching position, fighting the nausea welling up inside him. As the feeling subsided, Will eased himself up, edging his way along the wall. He kicked a pail, the water splashing his foot and Will crouched down, scooping up a handful and tasting it. It was fresh water and Will started to drink, feeling it flow down his parched throat. He started to feel better and stood up, groping his way towards the door. Slipping his arm through the bars, Will reached for the latch, his fingers finding the shackle, preventing the latch from being lifted. Will realised he was imprisoned in the stable, knowing the bars reached the ceiling. He made his way back to the pail, fighting the despondency he felt and the rising fear in his stomach. He started to remember what he had been doing but his thoughts were confused. He thought Sophia had screamed but was not sure. He relaxed, comfortable in the knowledge that Sophia would help him, knowing she would tell her mother what had happened. He lay on the floor and drifted into a troubled sleep.

Voices and the rattle of the shackle being removed awoke him. He started to open his eyes and felt the pain shoot through his head as the daylight blinded him.

'You've got a short while to sort 'im out before 'is nibs turns up,' a man's voice said.

'Thank you. I will be as quick as I can.'

Will recognised his mother's voice and, squinting, he saw her walk towards him, kneeling by his side.

'What's happened to you? What have you done? You are filthy,' his mother said as she dipped a cloth into the pail and started to wipe his face.

Will looked at his mother, blinking, trying to clear his blurred vision. 'I ... I can't think straight Mother. I ... I was with Sophia ... in the copse I think ... we were ...'

'You don't have to tell me,' his mother cut in. 'Everyone on the estate knows what you did.' She dabbed at the back of his head, making Will flinch.

'What are you talking about?'

His mother shook her head. 'You were taking advantage of ... forcing your attentions on Sophia. If the estate manager had not arrived on the scene when he did, you would have ...'

Will looked at his mother, seeing the distress in her face. 'Mother, I still don't know what you are talking about. You know I would never harm Sophia ... I love her.'

'The estate manager maintains you were molesting her, that she was bravely fighting off your advances but that you were like a man possessed. You are in serious trouble.'

Will frowned, struggling to unscramble his mixed thoughts and emotions, struggling to remember what had happened. 'It isn't true Mother. I wouldn't ever harm or deliberately upset Sophia. I think too much of her.'

His mother looked at him. 'I know you would not harm Sophia but sometimes ... a man's passions can overwhelm him.'

'No Mother! That is not what happened ... I'm sure of it. Sophia will tell them the truth.'

'That's as may be but you have to get cleaned up. I have brought a change of clothing and your boots. You can use the pail to wash yourself. I have to go.' His mother stood up and left the stable, the man at the door yelling at a stable lad to fetch a full pail of water.

Stripping off, Will washed himself and quickly dressed, appreciative of the fresh linen against his body. His vision was still blurred but he was feeling better and steady on his feet. Suddenly, the stable door slammed shut as footsteps could be heard approaching.

'Where is the rogue? You'd better have him in there.'

Will recognised the deep voice of the Estate Manager, Mr Dowson. He knew Dowson disliked him, thought him privileged beyond his position. Dowson had always given Will the worst jobs and taken every opportunity to belittle him. The stable door opened and Will looked up at Dowson, seeing the man glaring at him.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Aberrant Robber by James Gervois. Copyright © 2017 James Gervois. Excerpted by permission of Wimbledon Publishing Company.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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