Lady Ravensdale and the Highwayman: Alternative Ending

Author's note: The following is an alternative ending to my story 'Lady Ravensdale and the highwayman'. It is recommended that you read it first before proceeding.

It was five years later and Annabelle was enjoying a soiree at her London apartment. She stepped out onto the terrace to enjoy the cool night air and suddenly her thought went back to that night at Newgate prison which had been a turning point in her life.

The day after her visit to Newgate Annabelle had risen late. She had made her way home with difficulty through the darkened streets only managing to hire a carriage to take her home after wandering the streets for some time. Her sister had questioned her closely about her evening out and she had had to think up endless excuses for her late return and her bedraggled clothes spattered with the muck of the London streets.

Later that afternoon her brother-in-law Henry arrived home full of excitement.

"That was a deuced fine hanging I must say," he announced. "I have to say that fellow Ackroyd made a damned fine speech before they turned him off. He said he repented any wickedness he had committed and especially any cruelties he had perpetrated on the fair sex. Finally he asked to be remembered to one special lady. The crowd cheered and pleaded to know who she might be but before he could say more the hangman drove the cart away and the damned fellow was left kicking his heels."

At this Annabelle burst into tears and rushed from the room. She was in shock. She knew Ackroyd must die and in many ways he deserved to do so but after the previous night she felt there was a special bond between them which now must be severed for ever.

It was only the next day that Annabelle remembered the key which Ackroyd had given her. She made an excuse to her sister and set off for the Strand. She quickly found Ackroyd's bank and entered, asking to see the manager.

"I understand that a friend of mine has a safe deposit with you," she said. "He has given me the key and authorised me to collect some of the contents."

"Of course Madam," the manager replied. I will arrange for a clerk to see to it immediately."

A few moments later a clerk scurried in to the room staggering under the weight of a large steel box which he placed on the table in front of her and then bowed and left the room. Annabelle fitted the key into the lock and raised the lid. The first thing she noticed was a large leather bag. She untied its cord and poured out a large quantity of gold coins onto the table. There must have been several hundred pounds worth of gold she estimated. Next she looked through a number of legal looking documents. One appeared to be the deeds to a house. There were also various bonds and share certificates. If these all belonged to Roger Ackroyd then he had indeed been a wealthy man. And what of his story that he was the impoverished son of a widow who had been forced into a life of crime?

Finally she found a letter which read as follows:

'To whom it may concern

If you are reading this letter then you must surely be the person to whom I have entrusted the key to my safe deposit and with it all my wordly goods. I have made no last will and testament save for this letter. It is my wish that the person to whom I entrust this letter should inherit all my money, goods and chattels. My attorneys Messrs Callard and Butt of Sackville Street, London will attest to this and make the necessary arrangements for the transfer of assets.

Signed under the hand of

Roger Ackroyd

23rd October 1720'

The document was signed and witnessed by two witnesses.

Suddenly the full import of this hit Annabelle. If Ackroyd had entrusted his safe deposit to her then she must be his legal heir. What was more, far form being a pauper he was clearly a man of some means which meant that all her financial worries were at an end.

All this came back to Annabelle five years later. She had indeed inherited Ackroyd's fine London apartment, a considerable sum of money as well as investments which allowed her to live in modest comfort if not the style to which she had been accustomed as the chatelaine of Ravensdale Hall.

Annabelle quickly used her talents to turn her house into one of the most popular salons in London. Poets, painters and musicians rubbed shoulders with lords, ladies and self made men. In fact Lady Ravensdale was soon the toast of London society and much admired by the opposite sex.

As Annabelle stood on the terrace enjoying the cool evening air one her latest beau the Duke of Midshire sauntered up behind her.

"The others appear not to have missed us, my lady. Mr Saunders is entertaining them with his latest epic poem. I believe we have a few moments to take a turn in the garden before our absence is missed."

The Duke led her down the path to the garden and into the area known as the Wilderness. They were well concealed from the house by trees and shrubs. It was a balmy summer night and Annabelle enjoyed the coolness of the evening air playing upon her naked legs beneath her dress.

The pair came to a bench but instead of sitting upon it the Duke motioned to Annabelle and she knelt on the seat of the bench facing its back. Annabelle quivered in anticipation knowing what was to come next. As always she found the combination of partaking in a wicked and forbidden act with the prospect that someone might come down the path and find them in flagrante delicto was simply too delicious and irresistible.

The Duke unbuttoned his breeches and produced his prodigious pole already fully hardened and ready for action. He lifted Annabelle's skirt above her waist exposing her deliciously plump and rounded buttocks and pushed down across the back of the bench. Without further ado he moistened the engorged head of his rampant prick with a little saliva and thrust it against Annabelle's quivering arsehole. He knew there was no need for foreplay. A dribble of moisture from Annabelle's gushing cunt revealed her heightened state of arousal. With a firm thrust he lodged the head of his cock in her anus, cruelly stretching the puckered little hole. Annabelle gasped in mingled pain and pleasure. Before she could recover, the Duke began to penetrate her further, mercilessly taking his pleasure from her tight little shaft.

Now the Duke began to bugger his partner in earnest. Annabelle grunted as her rectum was ravaged by the Duke's ever thrusting pole. How she loved this feeling of being used wantonly like some strumpet of the streets, her abused little opening obscenely dilated for her lovers pleasure. Later she would demand that he licked both her nether orifices and pleasured her more fully but for now all she desired was instant satisfaction after some days of separation.

The Duke' fingers found her clit while he slipped his other hand into her décolletage and mounded her swelling breasts. Annabelle moaned in pleasure as her breasts, clit and anus were simultaneously stimulated by her lover. Soon she was quivering in ecstasy as she felt her climax mount towards orgasm. The Duke waited as she uttered a series of muffled screams her buttocks quivering in delight as her body was wracked with pleasure. Only then did he allow himself his own release. Slowly a wave nerve tingling pleasure rushed through his loins. His prick felt like a volcano as it erupted its larva and deposited his hot semen deep in Annabelle's ravaged rectum.

A few minutes later Annabelle and the Duke slipped into the back of the salon and joined in the tumultuous applause for Mr Saunders' poem.