I was looking in some Word docs for something else, and came across the original opening scene for Lord Midnight. I've always loved this scene, but unfortunately it wasn't right for the story, so I took it out. But thank goodness I'm a packrat! I never throw any words away.
I realized this could be like DVD extras, where you get to see outtakes and edited scenes that didn't make the cut. Now I just have to figure out how to get my characters to do a gag reel. . .
Anyway, hope you find this enjoyable!
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Chapter 1
Yorkshire, 1812
"Saints preserve us!"
Gabriel DeVault glanced up at the man seated across from him in the bouncing coach. Though it was difficult to see much in the darkened interior, there was no mistaking the stranger's death grip on the edge of the seat.
When the carriage did not catapult the portly man into Gabriel's lap, the man released his hand and foraged in his waistcoat for a handkerchief. He dragged it across his dampened brow, muttering to himself.
"Isn't it sorry you are now not to be safe in your own bed this night, Thomas. But, no. You must put your poor self in the path of brigands and robbers."
Gabriel adjusted his spectacles as he peered at his fellow traveler. "What is all this talk of thieves?"
"Oh, 'tis nothing of grave concern. Saints preserve us!" he shrieked when the carriage hit another rough spot in the roadway. He clutched his chest, as if a flask of spirits was the only answer to his most heartfelt prayers.
Gabriel swallowed a smile. "You have traveled this route often? Mr.--"
"Thomas Patrick Barry, from County Cork it is." The proud introduction was accompanied by a jaunty wink. "And, no, I have never traveled along this route before now. But this road is a notorious haunt of all sorts of thievin' murderous men. Brigands. Highwaymen."
"Indeed? I thought in this modern age that few highwaymen dared to roam the roadways."
"For certain that is true in civilized parts. But a vast number of them still ride these godforsaken moors." He crossed himself before casting a surreptitious glance at his companion.
Gabriel stretched his legs and pretended not to see the prayerful gesture. "Have you been the victim of these cutthroats?"
"Cutthroats?" Thomas nearly whimpered. "Oh, no. But I know a great many persons who have had the misfortune to meet up with these villains." He swallowed before continuing. "There's an unholy number of them, it is said. And they come from all corners of the realm, as if this lonely stretch of the King's highway is theirs alone."
"Surely there cannot be as many as all that."
"Oh, but there are! Scores of them! And a bloodthirsty lot they are, too."
Gabriel frowned. "I have heard they consider themselves a rather noble lot. Knights of the road, you know. Almost charming as they relieve a man of his worldly goods."
"Hah! That is what they prefer their victims to believe." Mr. Barry leaned forward and lowered his voice, although there was no one to overhear him. "I have heard glorious tales of those who have stood up to the worst of these scoundrels," he finished with a bit more bravado.
Gabriel added an encouraging, "Ah."
Thomas Patrick Barry proceeded to recount the bloodcurdling saga, though there were several times it appeared the details were changed as the story unfolded. Still, not wanting to rob the man of his enjoyment, Gabriel shivered at the appropriate points of the epic story, spurring the storyteller to embellish the tale even further for his appreciative audience.
"At least that is how it was told to me," Mr. Barry finished with a flourish.
Gabriel turned his head away to hide a smile.
The story either calmed Mr. Barry or fatigued him, for soon silence descended upon the carriage interior. The carriage rocked in a soothing fashion over the now-smooth road, lulling Mr. Barry into a peaceful solemnolence. His multiple chins sagged towards his chest, but as soon as they made contact, he jerked his head back, his eyes darting from side to side. Despite his fear, he could not withstand the lure of sleep any longer. His head finally dropped forward, his expression a peaceful one.
In the next instant, gunfire exploded through the night, jolting the poor man out of his brief slumber.
"Stand and deliver!"
The coach careened to a halt, shaking and rattling the occupants in the process. The horses snorted their protest at the hasty stop. Thomas Patrick Barry began to shake uncontrollably, his worst fears brought to life the minute he had let down his guard. He clapped a hand to his head and straightened his wig.
He would have squealed for help were it not for the pistol braced just then against his ribs.
Gabriel smiled his apology. "You quite frightened me with all that talk of highwaymen, you know. I feared they might be other than my own band of rogues."
The man's eyes popped open wide. He squeaked out something incomprehensible and then, before he could disgrace himself further, slumped into a faint.
