Spike sympathized with those who had been captured, thinking back to his own painful childhood. These people deserved better than to be locked up in one of France's infamous prisons.
In his youth, he had been a lonely child with no siblings or the warmth of a parent's love. He had no friends. He had longed for companionship. He escaped for hours with the excuse of solitary study so he could play with the local lads of the village. Youth had allowed them to see past his class to include him in their games. He had soon become close to them, picking up their intonations and colloquialisms. They had even christened him Spike in order to embrace him in their group.
His tutor, Father Turok, had not been so taken. His punishment: Beatings and imprisonment in the Ripper Castle dungeon. His only hope had been that his mother would hear of his treatment and come rescue him. She did come one day, but it was not to rescue him.
"Lady Ripper, you should not have bothered to come down to this hovel,' Father Turok simpered to her.
"I wanted to affirm you were seeing to William correctly. He needs to be taught a lesson for associating with that scum."
"Yes, yes your ladyship. I assure you he won't forget this lesson in a hurry."
Walking further into the dungeon, Drusilla saw William huddled in a corner of his cell. Subdued from his beatings, tears rolled down his cheek and hope shone in his eyes at seeing his mother there.
"Well, William, I hope you take heed of Father Turok's teachings this time," Drusilla sneered. "Or you will amount to nothing and show your true low class pedigree."
With that she left him to the mercy of the cruel man who falsely wore the cloth of the Church. Tears fell unchecked from his eyes as his heart as he realized no one would come to help him.
After that moment, he had refused to allow his emotions to be seen. Each lesson, each beating was another step to becoming the man he was today. Self-sufficient and strong. Affection was no longer needed and love was a piece of fiction reserved for novels or poems.
As he grew older the remarks flung at him in the dark dungeon began to make more sense. "…show your low class pedigree."
The barb his mother had thrown his way made him aware of this unfortunate ancestry. He was the child of the black sheep of the family. Ethan Giles, the drunken womanizer who whose deeds were still remembered in society today.
His uncle, Lord Rupert Giles had in his benevolence married his brother's widow so that his unborn child could have a father.
In all probability he should have been the forgotten sibling of the heir to the title but his adoptive father had never fathered a child to pass the title onto. It was perhaps to the amusement of the higher beings that he was now Lord Giles.
Yet the title did not change his blood. He was the son of a man that had caused his mother a lot of pain in his philandering. It was for that reason that she did not love him or care for him. He was an unpleasant memory to her.
This realization had deep blow to him at the time and truth be told it still pained him today. He yearned for her love, but had come to realize that the affections of women were as fickle as cards. Easily won and quickly lost.
Thus far his experiences with women, lent him to be cynical of their motives. His first love or rather the object of desire was a little village harlot called Faith. Ironic that one who had so little in the Lord, should be named so. She had taught his inexperienced body pleasures that he thought were reserved only for the afterlife. However much he had wanted to hold on to her, he had come to realize that she was bought at the highest price.
Then, there had been Lady Cecily Underwood, the pure, unadulterated vision of his adolescence, which he had cherished upon his first sight across a crowded ballroom. His shy approaches to her were to his surprise, welcomed and encouraged.
He had been infatuated in his love for her, until he had inadvertently overhead her giggling conversation with a girlfriend.
"William is such a frightful bore. And that poetry!" Cecily's aristocratic voice rang out.
"One line described my beauty as effulgent! Effulgent I tell you," peals of laughter could be overheard. "However he is undeniably rich and I have no objection to marrying a man who is both rich and stupid."
He had understood then, that his wealth and standing were what was valued by the fairer sex. No matter how young and innocent, they instinctively appreciated him for those reasons alone.
It was because of this, that he preferred the company of women such as Lady Cordelia Chase. She enjoyed his wealth and position as his mistress but there was no duplicity about her motives. Spike enjoyed her beauty and other charms without entanglements of other kinds, especially emotional attachments.
Spike thoughts led him to a certain young lady of whom he was not sure that it would be the same case. Lady Elizabeth was an enigma. She was beautiful without a doubt, an English rose but with a fire that was unique. Innocent too, but not to be confused as a simple-minded girl. She too was no doubt, well aware of his wealth and prepared to overlook her feelings to attain it.
Closing his eyes Spike emptied his minds of all thoughts in order to earn some rest. He drifted asleep to the sounds of horses charging ahead to their destination.
Buffy was jolted from sleep as the carriage ground to a sudden halt. There were strange sounds that further roused her from her dreams of tearful goodbyes to Mr. Gordo and Anya. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she peered to the right hand window of the carriage, hoping to see what the obstruction in the road was. Her tired eyes, when finally focused did not show her a welcome sight.
The moon had swept past its curtain of clouds to shine down on the dark road on which they traveled. The moonlight glinted coolly from the barrel of the shotgun aimed at the driver of her carriage.
The voice of the highwayman was deep and muffled but that was all Buffy could hear. Her heart pounded louder and louder until in her fear she was deaf to all the movement.
Her panic was not calmed as she watched the carriage driver and the footmen motioned from the carriage, and then led to the side of the road by the highwayman. The air seemed to grow rarer as she struggled to breathe. Taking deep breaths she closed her eyes and sent up a little prayer for the lives of the men whom had served her for so short a time.
The moonlight brightened further and Buffy was able to see the scene more clearly. The highwayman was amazingly alone. He had no accomplices, alone he sat on his mount in front of the five men that he threatened. A small desperate ray of hope existed in Buffy's heart at the sight. Perhaps there was opportunity for the men to be able to overpower the robber. Their strength in numbers and the close proximity of the woods afforded opportunity for some type of plan.
Her eyes brightened, as at that moment, the men on the ground seemed to animate from their raised hand stance to race off in different directions.
She watched anxiously for the next development, waiting for the footmen to make some attack on the masked man who had now turned his back on the direction of their flight.
In a few precious moments, as Buffy watched and waited, she realized the appalling reality that she had been left alone to the mercies of a highwayman by the men who were supposed to protect her.
She turned and rushed to the carriage door struggling and fumbling with the catch. She bent down removing her gloves, as she finally was able to release the lock. She looked up to the window of the carriage door finally but two glittering black eyes greeted her.
Buffy let out a frightened scream at the sight, and stepped wildly backwards to get away from the stranger. The cramped size of the carriage and her gown combined to make her stumble and fall in the furtherest corner of the carriage. She clawed and reached for any opening for escape as the man entered the carriage with the shotgun in one hand, bare breaths separating them.
By now she was unable to think clearly as fear permeated every pore of her body. "Wh… what do you want," she struggled to enunciate. "I swear upon all that is precious to me that I have to riches or money."
There was no response from the silent stranger as he continued to stare at her from behind his cold mask.
She tried to reason again with him, praying that some sense of charity existed in him. "Sir, the only object of any value that I possess is this locket," she showed him her precious memento, clutching it tightly in her hand, "and this is the only portrait of my late mother that I have. Please, please, I beg you don't take this." Tears slid down her face as she pleaded with the still silent man.
His hand raised, Buffy watched anxiously, as he reached up and removed the mask that covered his face. "Rest easy my lady; it is not your locket that I pursue." His reassurances were hollow to her though as she had eavesdropped on enough dinner conversations to know that a highwayman never revealed his face, unless of course, they did not intend to leave any witnesses.
Her glassy eyes watch his every little movement as he sat down opposite her. He regarded her with a look of curiosity. As a hunter studying his prey, he admired its beauty but was impassive to its survival.
"You be a pretty little thing, innocent too, I'd wager-"
"Please, please, sir! If you leave me be, I could not express my gratitude and I would do my utmost to repay you."
He gave a little chuckle at this, "Sir?"
"Never been called that, and I've been called many a name. You can call be Ted, just plain Ted. Sir is too good for the likes of me."
"Ted, I give my word I will repay you if you let me live."
"And what would you be repaying me with my Lady Summerly? You said yourself that you possess nothing of real value, here amongst all your worldly goods." He tapped the small pieces of luggage that sat in the inside of the carriage besides the others on the outside.
"What could you possibly have to satisfy me?" He raised his hand towards her and she shrank further back to the side of the carriage. As his hand inevitably came closer, she turned her head as far as possible and closed her eyes in denial.
Waiting with held breath for the unwelcome exploration; it never came. She cautiously opened her eyes to find him starting at her hair. Finally, he brought his hand down on to the crown of her head, but only briefly. It was as if he was afraid to ruin it with his touch.
"They would rightly call a Lady such as yourself charming. 'Tis a pity." He brought his hand to cover his mouth and contemplated her again. "Now what could you have done at this young age to make yourself such high enemies?"
Buffy paid little attention to his questing as she watched his hand lower and reach for his shotgun. At this she knew her brief respite was over and her pleading had been useless. He was going to kill her.
Her heart pounded and blood racing through her veins. The short seconds that followed seemed to span an eternity. She raised herself up not having a moment to think and rushed him with all the strength she could muster in her tiny frame. Grabbing the shotgun triumphantly she tried to bring it closer. But he reasserted control and brought it back towards himself again.
The struggle continued with neither girl nor man willing to give in. Buffy used all she possessed to match his strength.
Finally in the struggle as she tried to pry it away, Ted raised his arms to hold it out of her reach. Her arms not able to go higher slipped to the barrel of the gun and then lower to the trigger. Holding on until her fingers slipped and the trigger was pressed.
The small carriage was rocked with the sound of a small explosion. The shotgun and fired through to the front of the carriage to where the driver might have sat outside. Splinters of wood and smoke filled the air inside. One such fragment hit Ted in the eye. Screaming in pain, shotgun was quickly forgotten as he clutched his eyes.
At that instant the horses, spooked from gunshot so close above them, bolted in fright. The carriage rumbled and surged ahead, throwing Buffy forward. She clutched the seat for support. Ted in his blinded state reach for something to grasp behind himself. But the carriage door behind him had not been shut and all he found was empty air.
Buffy stared back at him as he clawed ineffectually for support as his reddened eyes opened wide looking towards her for help. Yet she sat stunned, raising her arm towards him too late as he fell from the carriage.
His screams echoed the air as he fell to the road and the carriage ran over his helpless body. Buffy sat clutching the seat again as the carriage ride became faster and rougher. Buffy was unable to comprehend what had just passed. She shrank further down and the turns became sharper and the carriage seemed to creak from each hinge until at last it was unable to sustain anymore of the turbulent journey. The crack of the wood snapping from its holdings was the last noise she heard as the carriage tumbled and spun over knocking her unconscious.
Her head aching and throbbing she opened her eyes to a strong light and a blurry face. Light blue eyes searched her face with worry. Confused she whispered, "Who are you?"
"I am Captain Finn, my lady. What happened to your carriage?" he answered in a worried voice.
"My carriage?" the confusion of the moment as she tried to think how she had come to possess a carriage caused another surge in the pain shooting through her head. Again she felt the blissful oblivion of darkness envelope her.