A night-time visit

Three days later Randy was sitting by a small fire shaving the accumulation of stubble from his chin in the light of the afternoon sun. That morning he had visited his old hideout. As feared there was nothing in the cave, everything left behind in his hideout had been taken or destroyed, even the charred frame of Marlton's own bed lay in the cold embers by the falls.

Other than the destruction of his lair and the increased patrols of the redcoats there had been surprising little furor over the abduction of Lady Marlton. He had been prepared for weeks of frenzied hunts, hundreds of villagers and redcoats beating through the great forest driving the outlaw like a wild boar to its final stand. The lack of action from the Marlton estate was almost as unnerving as hiding from a all out effort to catch and punish the highwayman once and for all.

Randy took his time shaving enjoying the feel of soap and warm water after three days of laying low. He even used a wash cloth to scrub away some of the sweat and dirt from his torso before pulling his best shirt over his head. He refused to think about why he cared how he looked when he went to scout out Marlton Manor. This was not a personal visit he told himself as he braided his blond hair neatly into a ponytail and tied the end with a blue ribbon. He didn't even care if Charlotte was home; he needed to see if Lord Marlton was marshaling forces or if the fucking bastard really was not interested in avenging the **** of his only daughter.

Randy studied his reflection in the brass lantern, it was hard to tell for sure without a real mirror, but he thought he looked pretty good. Good enough for the likes of Miss Marlton, he decided as he brushed at the leaves that still clung to his woolen trousers. He'd put an end to this ridiculous state of limbo once and for all.

The trip to Marlton Manor took longer than it had to. Randy was in no hurry, he didn't want to get too close until after the summer sun was low in the Western sky. Several times he paused to make sure that there were no surprises waiting for him along the old trail through the forest. Randy also took the better part of an hour to skirt the village that lay in the shadow of the great Tudor mansion. He approached the manor house carefully from the East with the rising full moon at his back. There was little activity in the great house; he could see some of the downstairs rooms lit by oil lanterns and candelabra, but many others were dark. It did not look like Marlton was planning a massive raid into the forest to capture him, but instead of reassuring Randy he felt a return of the unease that had worried him back in his lair.

Could it be that Miss Charlotte had convinced her family that Black Brand's abduction had not ended with the inevitable **** of the helpless maiden? Or did Marlton hope that by keeping this affair quiet that Miss Marlton's reputation could be salvaged? It was hard to fathom but he could think of no other explanation. As he sat in the shadows of a sculpted shrub he saw a light go on in one of the upstairs room. He held his breath in anticipation not daring to hope but eager to see if this was Charlotte preparing for bed. He should be hoping that it was Lord Marlton himself, he could end this miserable chapter of his life by climbing into the bastard's room and putting a ball through his heart. However, when after a few more minutes Randy saw Miss Charlotte as she stood by the window gazing out into the dusk he felt no disappointment only an eager anticipation.

Randy watched the pair of lit windows attentively, each glimpse of Lady Marlton inspiring him to continue his steadfast vigil. For nearly half an hour she disappeared from view although another woman - probably her maid - would occasionally move about the room. When he saw Charlotte again she had changed into a nightgown and her hair was in braids.

Shortly thereafter the lights in the upstairs bedroom dimmed and Randy knew that the young mistress of the house had retired. He waited another couple hours until several other sets of lights were lit and doused and the whole house was dark.

Randy approached the manor house carefully watching for dogs or servants whose job it was to patrol the nighttime gardens and lawns that surrounded the estate. After over two years climbing the shrouds and futtocks of the whaler's rigging, the climb up to Lady Charlotte's open window was so easy he almost laughed. The stonework of the lower floor provided ample cracks and ledges for his hands and feet, and the post and beam second floor was even easier to move along.

Once Randy reached her window it was not hard to step through the wide sash. When the manor house was first built, the windows had been much narrower, but after almost two hundred years of peace in Southern England the windows had been expanded to let in as much light and air as possible. Unfortunately for Miss Charlotte the wide aperture let in rogues like him as well as the evening breeze and soft morning light.

As he stepped into her room he scanned the room quickly looking for any hint of danger. The room was large and elegantly decorated with a desk and chair not far from where Charlotte lay sleeping on her bed. The moonlight from the window lit the room well enough for Randy to see her serene slumber amidst the white bedding. In the soft moonlight she looked angelic and Randy stood in silence asking himself why he had come.

Some tiny movement on his part must have disturbed her slumber because as he watched and waited in silence her eyelids fluttered open and after a brief moment of confusion she saw him standing by her open window.