Bonnets and Bondage: The Highwayman Mystery (Chapter 3)

This is a story about damsels in distress in the Regency period. It contains non-consensual bondage and bad period dialogue; reader discretion is advised. You can read the other chapters here:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (You are here)

1.

It is often claimed in the less civilized sections of our world that the English are hypocrites.–And it must be admitted that there is a certain justice to the accusation. In public the English deplore drunkenness; in private drink is their consolation and joy. In public the English abjure violence; on the football field or in the House of Commons they take delight in it. And in public the English affect the greatest shock when schemes of a sensual nature are propounded, yet no specimen of humanity has more appetite for the wretched and the obscene than the Englishman at leisure.

Count Malamar, reflecting on these matters while out riding in Thornfield Park shortly after dawn, was well aware of the hypocrisy of the English but did not resent it. Partly this was because he was constitutionally disinclined to resentment, blessed with a sanguine temperament and short memory for slights; and partly it was because he loved England.

The nation, it was true, had failed to clasp him to its collective bosom with wholly convincing enthusiasm. Servants, neighbours and tradespeople alike viewed him with scarcely concealed distrust, on the usual grounds: he was foreign; he looked and sounded foreign; he persisted in a liking for foreign food; and he owned a large collection of bondage-themed statuary. But living in England, partaking in the English way of life, was ample compensation for the manners of her people. In a matter of hours he would have occasion to express his thanks for eggs and buttered toast; and in a few weeks, for village cricket; but at this precise moment, amid the stillness of the trees and the hushed potentiality of the season, he would settle for the singular privilege of existing in Hertfordshire in the month of April.

Yet the Count was not fated that morning to enjoy his habitual morning ride in peace. His pleasant reverie was interrupted by a shocking sight, in the trees up ahead to one side of his accustomed path: a beautiful maiden, bound tightly to the trunk of a silver birch and mewling piteously for help through a stout gag.

"Nh pmmnphm, khnnn phnr!," cried she. "Nnbhnnn mm frnm phhnph phrmm!" [1]

The Count reined in his steed and fixed the lady with a steely gaze.

"Well well, my dear–and what shall I do with you?"

oOo

An hour earlier than the scene described above, the Reverend Edmund Fox and Mrs Harriet Fitzgerald chanced to be walking through the same locale amid the glorious purple twilight. These names are important, and should by now be familiar.

Any readers sufficiently reckless to plunge into this story without benefit of the preceding chapters are advised to adopt a more civilized methodology; but suffice it to say that Fox is a curate of nine-and-twenty who supplements his meagre income by solving mysteries for genteel families, while Fitzgerald is a poor yet musically gifted widow of six-and-twenty who receives a small stipend for her diligent performances on Fox's organ and a larger one for serving as his most capable assistant in matters of deduction. They are both of them handsome individuals, but we shall regard it as a settled matter, that this fact is more pertinent in the lady's case; her pert bosom, fresh complexion and lovely blonde hair inducing approximately three gentlemen per year to make an offer of marriage.

"Eliza Catchpenny was set upon by a man of vicious and intemperate character," Mrs Fitzgerald mused aloud, "an event which is sadly plausible in our degenerate age. But it is stretching the limits of probability to suppose that coincidence alone led her sister Georgiana to be waylaid by an identical criminal and mistreated in an identical manner, comprising the loss of her clothing, the application of excessive quantities of rope and a tight cloth gag, and her exposure as a public spectacle in front of her neighbours."

"This was a planned and targeted outrage," agreed Mr Fox. "Perpetrated by a culprit who knew both girls and wished to see them humiliated for reasons best known to himself."

"Unless the culprit is Count Malamar, for he has a reason known to the entire neighbourhood: he is a wicked foreign deviant obsessed with binding and demeaning beautiful women."

"It sounds to me, Mrs Fitzgerald, as though you have solved the mystery already." Mr Fox smiled, eyes twinkling. In truth, neither believed that the Count was to blame, although the reasoning was sound enough.

"He is not our man," she replied. "He is honest–repulsively honest, I would say–about his predilections, and has no shortage of wenches to cater to them. He has too much to lose by a scheme of this nature, and very little to gain. Nevertheless, we must find a way to rule him out of our enquiries. And you have, I surmise, arrived at such a plan."

"Indeed I have, my dear.–And a most enjoyable plan it is. I suppose you have guessed the stratagem?"

"I have guessed it, and am tolerably certain I have guessed it correctly. Let me see.–The key is to put the Count's character to the test. We know he is a villain, but is he that species of villain which labours to find ways to indulge his villainy within the bounds of society and therefore retaining its protections? Or that which cannot turn down opportunities of wickedness no matter the danger to himself?"

"Go on."

"The test is as follows," said she. "A pretty damsel, secured tightly with ropes, shall be cast into the gentleman's path at a moment when he believes himself unobserved. If he snatches her up, throws her over his saddle bow and rides off with the utmost complaisance, we have our man; while a gallant unbinding and offer to escort her home should indicate the contrary determination."

"Most perceptive of you, Mrs Fitzgerald."

"Furthermore–" And here the lady's eyes sparkled flirtatiously. "Furthermore, I believe I know the identity of the lady doomed to writhe in a captor's ropes."

"Very likely; very likely indeed. For it is most important to the scheme that the damsel in distress be tolerably beautiful, in order fully to test the gentleman's capacity to withstand temptation. Given this requirement, none but my dear friend could possibly suffice."

"My dear sir, you flatter me to an unpardonable degree."

"Not at all; as a churchman I speak only the truth. But I must point out, my dear, that you are not wholly correct in your surmise. I do not propose to bind you and cast you in the Count's path as bait."

"I shall not be bound?" Hope blossomed in the widow's bright eyes.

"Oh! as to that, you shall most assuredly be bound, and bound well. I meant merely that you shall also be gagged and tethered firmly to a tree, to plausibly explain why you have hitherto been unable to obtain assistance or make your escape."

"Ah, a gag; of course. A lady of education and manners must naturally be prevented from speaking, for how else can the gentlemen be assured they shall not be interrupted by good sense?"

"Possibly; but be silent now, my dear, for your whiggish chatter grows wearisome."

"Yes, Mr Fox."

He nodded, pleased by this shew of obedience. Mrs Fitzgerald had an odd tendency at the most unexpected moments to behave submissively and do as she was bid without a murmur. "That is better. Now, you shall further be deprived of your outer garments in order to present a more fetching and eye-catching spectacle to the Count; and do not complain, for this is important."

"No, Mr Fox."

"Your account of the situation will be that you were set upon by gypsies and robbed. This will serve admirably; the gypsies have robbed the carriages of many genteel families about these parts; Malamar will believe it at once."

Mrs Fitzgerald raised her eyebrows, and appeared to consider an ungenteel reply. Fox knew of her interest in radical political thought, and deplored it; but he hoped she was not about to argue.

"Hush now, my dear; the gypsies are to blame, and there is an end of it."

Mrs Fitzgerald commented wryly that Mr Fox "had evidently given the matter a great deal of thought;" and the gentlemen was left in no doubt that, as ever, any outer submissiveness merely concealed a greater quantity of inner wilfulness. Yet she conceded that the plan might very well work, and he perceived that he had carried his point. Having modified her clothing in the desired manner–removing, with a number of becoming sighs, her jacket, gown and chemisette and piling them up neatly upon the ground–she placed her hands behind her back and invited her companion to begin his work.

oOo

The Count, curiously, gave no indication of being surprised, far less concerned, by the lady's unenviable plight:–as if bound and gagged maidens were a common occurrence in his daily tour of the estate. Mrs Fitzgerald, somewhat abashed by the lack of amazement her captivity occasioned, was left to ponder, whether the Count's imperturbability were evidence of callousness to feminine suffering, or of superb good manners; he was a monster, or he was a man of impeccable breeding; but it seemed contrary to logic and the principles of a well-regulated society that he could be both.

Raising his hat, quite as if the two were meeting in a ballroom or at a dinner given by a mutual acquaintance, the Count greeted Mrs Fitzgerald, asked how she did, and expressed his joy in the unexpected pleasure of her company. She attempted to respond with decorum, but found this impeded by the cloth between her lips.

"Pmmnphm rmmnphm mm!" cried she, attempting to give the gentleman to understand through her muffling gag that she would take it very kindly indeed if the said item could be removed. "Phmphm rnpmph nrm mghcmphphnfmm phnghph." [2]

"But my dear, how unfortunate!" he replied, smiling. "I should be no less delighted to release you from these bonds than you should be to escape them; but the thing is quite impossible. Whoever has bound you has done so with good reason, and far be it from me to question its validity. A gentleman does not unbind another gentleman's damsel."

"Ymn jmphph, phnr." [3]

Mrs Fitzgerald had, of course, less cause for fear than she would have the Count believe; but her mortification was real, as was her physical discomfort. Mr Fox had lashed her wrists together behind her back with positively nautical severity, and repeated this process upon her elbows, which to the lady's regret had been caused to touch. Her body was wrapt with a further quantity of rope, which held her rigid in a soldierly posture, shoulders back, bosom pushed out, back arched. Her legs were bound at the ancle, knee, and thigh, and as previously mentioned her mouth was well stifled by a knotted kerchief tied behind her head. She was, in short, a comprehensively bound and gagged prisoner, utterly helpless and fully at the mercy of her rescuer, if such he was; although she increasingly felt that this supposition admitted of considerable doubt.

"Besides, who is to say that women should be unbound? It strikes me as a matter for dispute, whether a lady's proper place is dancing prettily on the arm of an eligible bachelor, or squirming in his ropes; women being by natural disposition the fairer, and weaker, but above all vastly more submissive sex, it is only apt that they be bound and gagged at all times for our amusement, and their protection. You think you wish to be free, I grant you; but in your heart you yearn only to be ever more tightly truss'd."

Mrs Fitzgerald was not unacquainted with such views, but had seldom heard them so clearly and unapologetically expressed. She rolled her eyes, which evidently amused him.

"You are vext," he concluded, "and upon my word I do most heartily regret it. Our acquaintance has been short, but long enough to make me esteem you, and feel a lively interest in your happiness. Perhaps it would be agreeable, after all, to remove this pretty gag and hear your pretty voice."

The Count reached behind Mrs Fitzgerald's head and gently loosened the knot of the gag, before pulling the sodden cloth from her mouth. She coughed and attempted to moisten her lips in a ladylike fashion.

"I am obliged to you, sir," she said, managing to convey through her tone and expression a blend of gratitude for the removal of the gag and discontent at its delay. "If you could further remove the ropes binding my arms and legs, I should take it as a great kindness.–I am at present, as you may perceive, wholly powerless to escape." The lady demonstrated this fact by wriggling and squirming in her bonds, an act which failed to loosen any of the ropes but succeeded in rendering her even more bewitchingly lovely than usual. She underlined the effect by batting her eyelids.

"Nothing should give me greater pleasure," he replied. "But–" He paused with his fingers on the ropes. "I must first ask you to furnish me with details of the attack you have lately experienced. If the miscreants remain nearby, we must take action with the utmost alacrity."

"As to that, sir, I fear I can furnish but scanty information. A party of gypsies waylaid me, took from me my jewellery and outer garments, and bound me fast to this tree. They even gagged me, that I might not call for aid." Mrs Fitzgerald would ordinarily have touched a handkerchief to her eyes at this point to indicate great emotional upheaval, but the ropes prevented this. Instead, she sniffed.

Yet the lady, for all her skill in dissimulation, was in genuine agonies. She was sadly conscious of the oppressive tightness of the ropes about her body; the mortifying humiliation of being seen by a gentleman of high rank while cloth'd in her nether garments; but above all, by the uncertainty of her imminent fate. Either the Count was a criminal, or he was not; the latter outcome leading to release, the former to prolonged captivity until Mr Fox was able to effect a rescue. But she had failed to consider a third possibility.

The Count did not whisk the bound widow away on his horse for nefarious ends, but behaved with the utmost courtesy: he listened, and nodded, and politely expressed his regret that she had undergone such shocking misfortunes. What he did not do, unfortunately for the lady, was untie any of her bonds. Instead, he smiled.

"I fear, my dear madam," said he, "that I have guessed your stratagem; I have been anticipating this gambit, indeed, since the day you visited my home; only its timing remained a mystery. You mean to test my character, I think."

"Upon my honour, sir, I cannot conceive what–"

"Hush." He placed a finger upon her lips. "You need have no fear, my little damsel, for your ecclesiastical friend doubtless creeps about the woods hereabouts and will release you presently. And I therefore have no qualms about leaving you thus bound. And, I think, gagged–merely for appearances' sake. You are most pleasing to look upon in your captivity."

"Sir, please–"

"By the way, my dear, I am holding a ball on Saturday next; the whole county shall be there, and I trust you will favour me with your presence?"

"Thank you, I accemmpphhhh!"

The Count pushed the gag back into Mrs Fitzgerald's mouth, yanked the cloth tight about her head and knotted it securely; her eyes blazed with indignation at being silenced mid-sentence. He winked, raised his hat once again, climbed back on to his horse, and rode away laughing.

oOo

[1] "Oh please, kind sir! Unbind me from this tree!"

[2] "Please release me! These ropes are excessively tight."

[3] "You jest, sir."

oOo

2.

It was the following day. At Catchpenny Lodge, the three sisters and their mother were receiving morning calls: a necessary duty, but a dull one for young ladies of spirit.

"Mrs Portal told me the Count has bought two hundred beeswax candles, cash on hand," said Eliza Catchpenny, more or less discreetly, "and a pineapple."

"I do not believe it," replied Georgiana. She had never seen a pineapple, and was not persuaded that they were real.

"You may believe it, or not, as you wish; but it is true. She also told me, in the strictest confidence, that there is no good white linen to be had within fifty miles, and that Mrs Toil wept when she saw what was left at the butcher's."

Georgiana's eyes widened. She had been to two balls in her entire life, while Eliza had been to five, and made the most of her advantage. "Shall there be very much wine, do you suppose?"

"Oh! wine in stupendous volume, carried about in barrels. And you know, of course," she added, smiling with the utmost complaisance, "that the Count will ask me for the first two dances. I shall probably accept."

"You? Why?"

"Because we are the richest family about these parts; because I am the eldest; and because I have fine eyes. Tabitha Rubrick told me that Major Shilling said so; and Captain Halfpenny said as much to my face."

"Pooh! Officers will say any thing." Georgiana was privately of the opinion that her sister was grotesquely ancient, and deplored the fact that gentlemen did not appear to agree. "I do not see why the Count should not ask me for the first two dances, and very likely the two after that. I am quite as pretty as you, and can speak French."

"Passable French, if that; and the king's officers do not care for that language at present, I believe you shall find." Eliza smiled, infuriatingly.

"Perhaps," interjected Ann, "you shall both be snubbed, and the Count will ask me."

Her older sisters turned and stared.

"You?" asked Eliza. "Why should he ask you?"

"It is not tradition," said Georgiana.

"You are too young," added Eliza.

"And insufficiently pretty," put in Georgiana.

"Suffice it to say," Eliza concluded, "that no respectable gentleman would ask you for any dances at all without making his addresses first to me, and second to Georgiana. So you may as well put the idea out of your head."

"Hmmph." Instructing a young lady to put an idea out of her head, Ann reflected discontentedly, was a most efficacious way of ensuring it remained there; logical argumentation could not cure her of the wish just once to have precedence. The flame of rebellion flared within her.

"I wonder," said she, rather pointedly, "how Count Malamar will feel about dancing with ladies who were lately seen humbled and nude in public with their hands tied behind their backs and gags in their mouths. Can you tell me, Eliza, where etiquette stands on such matters?"

Eliza, for the second time in recent days, had nothing to say; while Georgiana expressed her own sentiments by colouring prettily.

"And I can only imagine that a strict adherence to precedence," Ann continued, warming to her theme, "explains why you were stripped and bound and gagged first, dear sister; before Georgiana was tightly truss'd and publicly humiliated in her turn. How admirably respectful to social protocol is the modern criminal! And how happy I am to be the youngest, at such a time."

Both sisters, now, were blushing deeply–yet they had recovered their poise somewhat. They were unused to attacks from this quarter, but they were not entirely unprepared.

"Ha! A pretty match you would make the Count, upon my word," said Eliza. "Happy to be youngest! No gentlemen will want you, for you have no beauty, no accomplishments, and no settlement."

"The only thing you have to recommend you is not being attacked," added Georgiana. "But you say so yourself:–you are next. You do not know when it will happen; but happen it shall. You will be snatched up and bound in your turn; and we shall laugh to see it."

Eliza giggled. "Do not you think it likely, sister, that the highwayman, grown bored with mere practical bindings, shall be very much more severe with her? You should prepare yourself, Ann, for a vast deal more rope, pulled so tight you will beg for mercy."

"And when you are tied naked to a tree with a gag in your silly little mouth," Georgiana concluded, "perhaps you will regret your manner of address and learn to keep a civil tongue in your head."

"Oh! It is not so bad."

The three sisters all turned to see who had spoken. It was the maid, a compliant and mild-tempered brunette, who by chance was dusting in the morning-room at that moment.

"What did you say, Alice?" asked Eliza, rather peremptorily.

"Being bound and gagged, Miss Catchpenny. It ain't wholly unpleasant, if it please your ladyship. All snuggly, like."

The girl paused in her work and looked thoughtful. She was given no great opportunity to indulge in nostalgic reveries, however, for the door opened and the housekeeper entered with a face like thunder.

"That will do, Alice–upon my honour that will do, ha ha ha, and I beg pardon of your ladyships. Be silent, you little fool!" These last words in a furious whisper to the offending servant.

"It's quite all right, Mrs Thrash," said Georgiana coldly. "See that she is well disciplined, however."

Mrs Thrash nodded, produced a length of cloth from a capacious pocket and proceeded to gag the poor maid, who squeaked and blushed but did not resist.

"What is happening, Eliza?" called Mrs Catchpenny from the other side of the room. She had been endeavouring to ignore the girls' conversation up to this point, but her visitor's interest had become unquenchable; the gentleman was craning his bald head round to see what was happening. Morning calls to Catchpenny Lodge had plummeted in frequency since the attacks began, and Mr Mockstock, a poor country cousin who had not heard the news, was their first visitor that week.

"Nothing at all, your ladyship," said Mrs Thrash, with the reassuring air of one who is quite accustomed to trussing and disciplining errant ladies' maids. With Alice firmly gagged, the housekeeper located a black ribbon in the folds of her dress and tied the girl's hands tightly behind her back, then lifted her to her feet and began to march her from the room. "There shall be no more mischief from this one, I assure you."

"N nphh pnrdnnn, mnllmnm," said Alice in an apologetic tone. "Nph mmnph wnmnchm nf mm." [4]

"Thank you, Mrs Thrash; that will be all," said Mrs Catchpenny. "Now, my dear sir, can I interest you in a trifle of poppy seed cake?"

"Did that maid say she had been bound and gagged?" he asked. "Did that housekeeper bind and gag her as punishment? And did your daughters say they had been bound and gagged as well?"

Mrs Catchpenny sighed, and saw that it would not do; that the news could not be concealed, even from Mr Mockstock; and that the family, in short, was in crisis.

oOo

[4] "I ask pardon, milady. It was wicked of me."

oOo

3.

Mr Catchpenny was distraught, and the usual pleasures of his private study had no power to restore his spirits. The grand mahogany globe, on which he was accustomed in idle hours to search out countries with amusing names, could not bring a smile to his face; there was no joy to be found in perusing his leather-bound copies of Annals of Agriculture, nor in adding rude annotations to the Debrett's entries for gentlemen who had cut him at the club. The poor man found he could not even divert his troubled soul by looking at the French engravings stowed safely in his triple-locked cabinet, which had proved a reliable cure for heart-ake in the early years of his marriage.

When Mr Fox and Mrs Fitzgerald proposed to wait upon the gentlemen, therefore, Mr Catchpenny was of a frame of mind that led him eagerly to accept; and at this point in our story they were attempting with some difficulty to console him with news of their progress.

"I do not see how this represents any progress at all," he complained. "You are telling me merely who did not perpetrate the crime; I quite specifically asked you to determine who did."

"This is useful intelligence, I assure you," replied Mr Fox. "Having satisfied ourselves–" He looked over at his companion, who raised an eyebrow. "–for now, at any rate, that Malamar is not the culprit, we are able to focus our investigations in more profitable areas."

"And what might these areas be?"

Mrs Fitzgerald came closer, and Mr Catchpenny gazed with admiration at her person, which was agreeable. She had an exceeding fine figure, he thought to himself; one which was presently clothed to great advantage in a daringly cut gown of tight yellow satin. She had the most lovely–

"We mean to lay a trap for the highwayman, Mr Catchpenny," said she.

"Oh! a trap; what a capital notion."

"It must be put about the neighbourhood, sir, that your daughter Ann wishes to attend a ball in ––shire, and means to take the carriage thence on a certain day next week; the highwayman will become acquainted with this intelligence and, we hope, resolve to strike."

"Ann? A ball? Quite out of the question. Unwise."

Mrs Fitzgerald sighed.

"There is no ball," explained Mr Fox. "It is merely a cunning ruse, contrived to induce the villain to reveal himself."

"Ah. Then Ann will be carried to... No, forgive me, I do not quite understand–"

"Ann will not be in the carriage at all, sir," put in Mrs Fitzgerald. "Ann will be safely home, and I shall take her place in the carriage, in disguise. My colleague here will accompany me, in the uniform of a coachman; and we shall both carry pistols, for our safety and peace of mind."

Mr Catchpenny looked from one detective to the other, evidently unable to conceive why two such obvious lunatics had been allowed into his home. But at length, having weighed up on the one hand the pitch of desperation into which he had been cast by recent events, and on the other the evident lack of risque to himself, his family and his property which would be occasioned by the preposterous plan, he accepted the proposal with a becoming shew of reluctance and left the room to make the necessary arrangements.

oOo

It had been decided, against a surprising degree of resistance from the person in question, that Alice would not be called upon to accompany the party–and, in consequence of this, Mrs Fitzgerald was alone in the carriage four days later as it trundled along the ––shire road toward a ball that did not exist. In homage to this fictional event she wore a turquoise silk gown borrowed from Ann, a garment as revealing as it was costly: the lady was conscious that her bosom, pushed up by an unforgiving corset of the latest design, was displayed to startling effect. The gown was paired with long leather opera gloves of the same colour, while Mrs Fitzgerald's glossy blonde hair was pinned up and concealed beneath a lustrous red wig. She did not feel herself.

Her thoughts drifted, as they often did when danger threatened. She recalled similar adventures in the past–their successful ends, yet frequently distasteful means–their invariable culmination in her being tightly truss'd and gagged, and having to wait helplessly for rescue–the mixed feelings such outcomes produced–her own curious lack of fear at moments of bodily peril, including the present one–Mr Fox's consistently far greater concern for her wellbeing, and at times reckless disregard for his own, and the deeper meaning of this. She hoped he would not put himself in harm's way to-day.

These thoughts were interrupted by a loud shout from an unknown quarter and, a moment later, an answering cry from Mr Fox.

"Good gracious," said he; "a tolerably singular event!"

This being the pre-arranged signal, Mrs Fitzgerald perceived at once that the highwayman was come; she checked the pistol yet again, and concealed it within the depths of her clothing; stood up, carefully smoothing her gown; and quitted the vehicle. Upon emerging, however, she was surprised to note that the highwayman, a dark masked figure with an ominous manner and address, was not pointing his firearm in her direction, or indeed any where close to it; rather, he had trained it upon the coachman; which was to say, Mr Fox.

"You will have the goodness to step down from the carriage, madam," said he. "And refrain from foolishness, if you please."

She did as she was bid, perceiving that the highwayman had the advantage.

"I am entirely aware, my dear lady, of your identity, as well as that of your supposed driver," said he; "a very pretty rig you have both devised, upon my honour, and the deception would fool many; but not I. So let us desist from tedious protestations, if we may."

Mrs Fitzgerald took off her red wig, and cast it peevishly upon the ground. A few of her blonde locks escaped from their pinnings and tumbled down about her face.

"You are pondering, I dare say, the extent of my information. Am I aware, for example, of the pistol concealed beneath your travelling cloke? Accept my assurances that I am. And I tell you now, that I shall not hesitate to slay this gentleman where he stands if the said weaponry is not removed from its hiding place and toss't into the grass."

The lady being left with no option but to comply, the pistol emerged slowly from its place of concealment, such that the criminal should be given no alarms; and was then thrown upon the earth. She crinkled her nose.

"I am quite defenceless now, I assure you," she said.

"You was always defenceless, ma'am," came the reply; "but now you are a little easier to controul; I need have less concern about your devious schemes and deadly intentions. Your pistol too, sir, (turning to Mr Fox), and I urge you in the strongest terms to refrain from any acts of heroism, lest your pretty friend suffer on your behalf."

Having listened diligently to the Catchpenny girls' account of their experiences, Mrs Fitzgerald had believed herself apprized of the highwayman's character; yet she was conscious now of an inconsistency. The sisters agreed that he had an air of mischief; that he teazed, and goaded, and appeared motivated by a desire to amuse himself as much as to give trouble to others. But he struck Mrs Fitzgerald now, eyes glittering beneath his mask, as a gentleman devoid of humour, and full of malice and spight.

He appeared, in short, singularly offended.

"Madam," said he, "your behaviour is not what I should expect of a lady of good breeding; I deplore it excessively."

"It pains me, sir, to fall so low in your estimation," replied the lady. "God willing, however, I believe I shall survive the disappointment."

"Perhaps you shall, and perhaps you shall not. At any rate I mean to supply you with ample cause to regret your treacherous actions. I am going to bind you, young lady. Exceeding tight, and d–– uncomfortable."

It would be false to state that Mrs Fitzgerald heard this speech with perfect equanimity, but its purport hardly came as a surprise. "Of course," said she, frowning at Mr Fox with moderate confusion; the latter had an appearance of the utmost concern. "I had full expectation that such would be the case."

"I do not doubt it, madam. You and your friend are known throughout the town for your percipience." He spoke bitterly. "So let us play a game.–I shall bind you; and you shall thank me politely for taking the trouble to do so. Then I shall bind you further, and you shall thank me again; and so on. It is quite within my power, you will please to remember, not to bind you like the pretty damsel in distress you are, and instead to take a more permanent and deadly revenge. Bondage is therefore a mercy, and one for which you should be exceedingly grateful."

"And what, sir, should be the purpose of this?"

"To humiliate you, merely, and gratify my own wishes. Begin, if you please, by removing your clothing."

Mrs Fitzgerald was determined not to blush, being of the opinion that blushing was the domain of foolish young maidens attempting to secure by artifice the attention of eligible gentlemen. But it was difficult to refrain from blushing while disrobing in front of a close acquaintance and a total stranger; the presence of each adding to the humiliating character of the moment in a wholly different way.

The lady removed her travelling cloke with an irritable flourish, and let it fall. The gentleman shewing no signs of leniency, she proceeded, most reluctantly, to divest herself of gloves, gown and petticoat, the rosy colour in her cheeks deepening a little more with each removal–her shoes and stockings–her corset and chemise; until she stood aukwardly in a pair of lacy drawers, attempting to cover her chest with her hands. The highwayman laught and advised the lady not to trouble herself, "since her hands should presently be bound neatly behind her back, and her person displayed freely to all."

Eyes narrowing angrily, Mrs Fitzgerald lowered her hands. Mr Fox turned away, but the highwayman had no qualms about gazing upon the lady's tolerably lovely breasts, as soft and white as young doves.

"And now the drawers, madam, if you will be so good," the highwayman continued; "and you a fashionable woman, for all love."

"Are you happy, sir?" cried she at length, with a defiant naked curtsey. "I am at your service."

"This humiliation is for your benefit, wench, not mine. Thank me for allowing you to disrobe."

Mrs Fitzgerald blushed more deeply than ever. But then she traced the line of the pistol from the highwayman's hand to Mr Fox's scull, and conceded that she had no alternative.

"Sir, I... thank you for depriving me of my clothing."

"Good girl. But next time I shall expect a more violent expression of your gratitude and best wishes, or I may find that my finger most regrettably begins to slip on the trigger. Ask me to bind you."

Mrs Fitzgerald emitted a sound midway between a sigh and a growl. She closed her eyes and endeavoured to obey.

"I ask, sir, that–that you will do me the very great kindness of binding me securely with your strong cords."

"And what part of you shall I bind, madam?"

"Please, sir, will you kindly bind my... wrists."

"Very well."

The highwayman walked softly behind her, savouring the moment. Gently, slowly, he guided the lady's hands behind her back, crossed them at the wrist, and began to wind cord around them. He did so methodically and without the least compunction as to her comfort, pulling each loop so tight that it pressed deeply into her skin. When satisfied that there were enough loops to prevent escape, he turned the cord back across itself at right angles, creating a series of lateral cinching loops that tightened the original bindings still further; and then knotted all off carefully.

"And now, my dear madam, it is time for you to express your gratitude."

"Oh! very well; I thank you, kind sir, for tying my wrists."

"Very good.–But your arms remain conspicuously free. What shall I do with them next?"

"This is scarcely necessary, upon my word," interjected Mr Fox, standing powerlessly by while his friend was humiliated and bound.

"I disagree. And shall strengthen my arguments with lead if you interrupt again."

"Please, my dear sir," Mrs Fitzgerald said hastily, wishing Mr Fox would keep quiet but touched by his gallantry, "would you oblige me by binding my elbows? As tight as possible, if you please."

"With the greatest of pleasure!"

He took up a fresh coil of rope–forced the maiden's elbows painfully close together–and swiftly bound them thus, precisely as he had bound her wrists. In short order her arms were rendered useless, and her deportment modified to great disadvantage... or advantage, depending upon one's point of view. Looking closely at the completed arm bindings, the highwayman offered his compliments and expressed his hope "that the ropework should prove sufficient to keep the lady a helpless captive."

Mrs Fitzgerald rolled her eyes, but was resigned. "Undoubtedly it shall," she said obediently, albeit reluctantly, "and I thank you for binding me so efficaciously."

He smiled, infuriatingly. "You are welcome."

And the conversation proceeded from there. The lady requested, as politely as she was able, that the gentleman should be so kind as to tightly bind her chest and shoulders with a thorough harness of cords; to rope up her ancles, knees and thighs; and, following certain hints, to apply a leash about her throat and an especially intrusive binding between her legs. He obliged in each case, and was thanked, more or less wholeheartedly, for his pains. All of this time, Mr Fox could only watch on and cringe to see the lady so demeaned.

"There remains one final restraint to apply. Do you know what it is?"

"Having read the kinds of novels I imagine you enjoy, I feel able to surmise."

"Then you know what you must ask."

Mrs Fitzgerald's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment with the fire of rebellion, before she mastered herself and lowered them submissively.

"Sir, will you please have the goodness to gag me good and tight?"

"By all means." The highwayman produced an item from deep within his voluminous garments: a short wooden bar attached to a multitude of leather straps that would strike most as utterly bewildering. But Mrs Fitzgerald's unique combination of experiences–both as an accomplished horsewoman, and as a frequent damsel in distress tightly restrained and silenced–gave her the insight to guess the object's identity.

"Yes, a bit gag!" said the highwayman, perceiving with interest the lady's recognition. "I intend to bridle you, like my horse. Open your mouth."

Mrs Fitzgerald did as she was bid. The wooden bar was placed carefully between her teeth, and the straps encircled her head, over her pretty blonde hair. The highwayman pulled these as tight as possible, then buckled them securely.

"I trust this meets with the lady's approval?"

"N nm phnnphmmllmm grnphmfnm, khnn phnr." [5]

"Admirable, admirable. But perhaps you are feigning helplessness? Perhaps you wish me to believe you are less able to call for help than you actually are. How shall we test this?"

"You have made your point, sir," cried Mr Fox. "You have comprehensively bound and gagged the poor lady. She is utterly helpless and quite unable to speak."

"Perhaps so. Perhaps..."

The gentleman grasped Mrs Fitzgerald's bound wrists, and lifted her arms away from her body–a painful movement, and one which yielded a protestatory squeak from the unhappy captive. This achieved, he gazed down with the utmost complaisance upon the lady's pert unclothed derriere. Laughing maliciously, he smote it severely, the flat of his palm colliding painfully with the soft pale flesh; he then did so a second time, despite the lady expressing her reservations through the gag in the most fervent, if scarcely comprehensible, language; and finally, most unhappily, a third. The place affected was now scarlet and exceeding tender; but the bound captive, wriggling and thrashing most vigorously against the outrage upon her person, was able to make no progress whatsoever in freeing herself from the tight bonds.

"It would appear you were right, sir," said the highwayman, "and I take this opportunity to apologize most heartily and humbly to the lady." He accompanied this with one final blow on her rump, which was met by a furious squeak into her gag.

Stripped, gagged, leashed and bound very tightly and thoroughly, Mrs Fitzgerald was led hopping back to the carriage and stowed there, secured to the seat with yet more lengths of cord, yanked and cinched as tight as could be. Emerging from the interior, the highwayman advised Mr Fox "to leave with the utmost despatch, that instructions to find his partner should be left at Catchpenny Lodge, and that any attempt to follow would result in jeopardy to her person;" he then mounted the seat and drove off with the beautiful widow on board, mewling helplessly for rescue.

And Mr Fox, grim-faced with alarm and mortification, dashed off in the opposite direction as fast as he was able.

oOo

[5] I am sincerely grateful, kind sir.