Read the first chapter of Bonny & Read

Chapter 1

Charles Town, Carolina, 1718

It has been a filthy hot day, the night following suit. The sluggish silence is shattered by the sounds of a loud argument at the Cormac house. Moments later, to the music of breaking glass, Anne tears from the French windows, skirts bunched in her hands, long red hair streaming behind her as she runs like a March hare across the lawn, the sounds of pistol fire ringing in her ears as she runs full pelt for her life, ragged-breathed and laughing as vitriolic obscenities are hurled at her.

Her father, the source of the fury, takes repeated drunken aim at the darting figure from the open doors, his only child, thank God, married without his knowledge or blessing earlier that day. And to a servant, of all things, this lesser person running in the wake of his dashing bride, sheer panic on his face as the gunfire continues, a hand held to his bleeding arm, where, against all odds, one of his father-in-law’s bullets has glanced its target.

This is typical of James Bonny’s luck – something that his new wife will know soon enough. But for now she feels the exhilaration of chaos, the proximity of death, and the freedom of being Anne Cormac no longer.

‘You whore! You are your mother’s daughter, and none of mine!’

Her father’s aim is not helped by a brandy-soaked afternoon and the insult of sudden betrayal, as he screams things to the running figure that a father should never utter to his only girl, things to terrify a man like James Bonny.

‘You think you’ll get away so easily?’

There are torches close behind, the smell of cordite in their nostrils, the thick air catching at their throats as they run, the cushioning grass soon giving way to the sharpness of parched soil as they reach the boundary wall.

The roused servants have let loose the dogs, thinking perhaps that their master has disturbed thieves in the act, and the fugitives hear their snarling pursuit, drummed up by the mad excitement of William Cormac, who agitates the men and beasts to do them great harm.

The dogs are fast and are already snapping at James Bonny’s ankles as he frantically tries to climb beyond their reach, while Anne is halfway over the wall using a creeper that she has climbed since she was a child, her underthings on shameful view for all to see. After everything he has endured, it is almost her father’s undoing. He falls to his knees, holding up his hands to the heavens and wailing:

‘And will you show your arse to the world too?’

She hauls herself to the summit eight feet from the ground and salutes her father with the requisite number of fingers before swinging her legs over to the other side and, using the overhanging creeper, drops, landing unscathed and unladylike onto the road beyond. She is soon joined by a breathless and sweating James, who falls like bad fruit beside her, his eyes wide at the raw memory of recent insults to his person.

‘You smell worse than the dogs, James Bonny!’

Her eyes are dancing, her face burning from her exertions, but he does not appreciate the joke. He had not realised when they married this morning that she was clearly quite mad.

‘So that was your idea of breaking it to him gently, was it? Jesus, woman, I nearly lost an arm.’

He holds out the limb in question to show her the scratch and suggestion of blood, already dried.

‘Sure enough, it wasn’t your arm I was worried about.’ Her glance and filthy smile suggest a softer target, and he rests his hands there to protect his treasures. ‘Besides, it was broken as gently as it needed to be, for we don’t need his money now that we have each other.’

James’s look suggests otherwise and she sees it at once. Her smile hardens; a hardness that will be difficult to shift. He will not be the man to do it.

But at that moment the shouts of men and yelping of dogs on the other side of the gate grow louder at the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

Anne grins at James, eyes flashing.

‘We’re not clear of this place yet. You’d better hope for your sake that you have breath left in you.’

Anne hops from one foot to another, pulling stained satin slippers from her feet, before she sets to running again in earnest, throwing the shoes behind her into a ditch.