The Reformer (11 page)

Chapter Seven

Gerard impatiently glanced at his pocket watch as he waited for his carriage and driver to arrive. He was riding to the academy to pick up Brigit and bring her home with him for the weekend. He missed her dreadfully and planned to show her exactly how much. He turned as Martha approached him,

“Pardon, Lord Remington, but the girl refuses to eat her breakfast. She is also throwing a small tantrum about not being permitted to leave the house while you are gone.”

“Martha, I trust you to handle her in whatever way you need to. You did a wonderful job of keeping our Ryan out of trouble, and I’m sure you can do the same for this young lady.”

“Sir, I feel I must remind you that little Ryan was a sweet, loving boy who only played occasional pranks. This girl…”

“I find it amusing how your memory of our ‘sweet little Ryan’ has been altered. That boy used to send you screaming down the orchard as he hid from you and then threw worms in your hair,” Gerard laughed. “You’ll do fine, Martha. I have faith in you. Please make sure she is on her best behavior for my homecoming. If not, she will be one sorry little miss.”

“Yes, sir. I will remind her. Have a safe journey, Your Lordship,” Martha stated with a reluctant sigh as the carriage pulled up. She watched Gerard wave out the window and then turned towards the house. Eliza sat at the kitchen table, arms crossed and frowning. In front of her was a bowl of cold porridge.

“The master has given me instructions to see that your behavior is improved by the time of his return with his lady. I have allowed you two weeks to adjust and have been patient with you, girl, but you will not waste food under this roof, nor will your treat your benefactor with such disrespect.”

Eliza sneered. “Even a pig would not indulge itself on this slop.”

Martha frowned, pointing to the bowl. “You will eat every bite in front of you. If not now, then for your mid-day meal. If not then, it will be ready for your dinner.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Go to your room, Eliza.” Martha ordered. Eliza slammed her palm on the table and stomped upstairs, followed by Martha who wielded a long wooden spoon in her hand. Eliza turned to glare at her and yelped as the old woman grabbed her ear and pushed her towards the straight-backed chair, as she barked, “Put your hands on that seat and don’t you dare move an inch.”

“I am not… OWWW!” Eliza began to argue, finding herself being forced into position simply by Martha’s hold on her earlobe. “This is wrong! You aren’t
him
.”

“So you are finally acknowledging your reformer, are you? Well, I act in his stead. You,” Martha growled, raising Eliza’s skirts and parting her split bloomers to expose a still pink and bruised bottom from the spanking she had received the evening before after rolling her eyes at Gerard, “are going to learn some respect and regard. How many times,” SMACK! “have you done this to girls who failed to mind you?” Another SMACK, followed by a loud howl, was repeated across the tops of Eliza’s tender thighs.

“Stoooppp ittt!” Eliza shrieked as the spoon fell with punctuated accuracy upon her protruding buttocks, the bowl leaving round blotches in its wake. She began to dance on her toes, held in place by Martha’s grip on the ear.

“Answer me, girl. How many times have you punished children for your same misdeeds?” Martha demanded, relentlessly whacking the heavy spoon across every inch of Eliza’s already bruised rear end. Tears exploded as Eliza raised her voice in a painful cry, holding nothing back as Martha unleashed her strength with determination to teach this spoiled, arrogant, mean-spirited young lady a valuable lesson.

“Only… a few…” Eliza sobbed, twisting as she tried to avoid the wicked strokes, screaming as several caught the insides of her thighs. “I don’t know!”

“You don’t know,” Martha repeated with a sneer in her voice, “What did you use to punish them, Eliza?” the woman demanded, aiming for the crease between the thighs and lower bottom.

“A crop or a cane!” Eliza bellowed, sagging over the chair in defeat. “I’m sooo sorrrry.”

“Did you have any idea how much it hurt them?” Martha snapped, pausing for a moment to inspect her spoon.

“I… I didn’t care…” Eliza sobbed, a puddle of her tears collecting on the seat of the chair, “They were ungrateful little brats. They deserved to be hurt.”

“Like you, Eliza? Do you think you deserve to be hurt, too?” Martha asked, releasing the weeping woman and watching her sag to the floor.

“Yes, yes… I deserve to be hurt. I’m an ungrateful parasite of a human being,” Eliza cried.

Martha frowned, sitting in the rocking chair. “Come here, child. Come to your nanny and let me care for you,” she ordered softly. Eliza slowly stood, her face red and wet from tears, her entire body quivering from pain. She allowed Martha to fold her in her arms and hold her as she cried, rocking gently. “There, my sweet. Why do you call yourself that?”

“Mother and Father said I was,” the woman wept. “They said I had no reason to live except to take food out of the mouths of my brothers, and that I was too ugly to ever be married. They forced me to leave because they did not want to finance my survival without any chance of a suitor.” Eliza sniffed, leaning into the woman’s large arms and allowing herself to be comforted.

“You have the makings of being a very lovely young lady, Eliza. You hide yourself under ugly clothing and a scowling face.”

“I have no hope of a family or love,” Eliza continued to cry, her voice melting to that belonging to a lost, forlorn child, “I’m too ugly, too smart, and too strong.”

“You must learn to see yourself in a different light, dear. Shhh…it’s okay to cry. Let out your pain. You’ve never cried like this before, have you? My poor, poor baby,” Martha cooed, holding her tightly as she slowly rocked in the chair. Moments passed as Eliza unleashed her sorrow and loneliness through her gushing tears.

“M-my own mother never held me like this,” she confessed, secure in the large woman’s strong arms.

“You have a nanny now, and I will help you grow up to be a happy young lady. And your new Papa will teach you everything he can about how valuable and loved you can be. He’s a good Papa, Eliza. Let him open your heart and take away all these years of anger and hurt.”

“Men frighten me, Martha. They are cruel, cold creatures.”

“Not all of them are like that. Papa is not, I promise. Has any man ever caught your interest, child?” Martha asked quietly, soothing the woman’s hair. Eliza was again surprised about how comfortable she felt being held and cared for by the stout, grandmotherly woman.

“One. But he would never consider me. I am far too independent for a man such as he. It is Headmaster Stewart.”

“Perhaps when you’re training is complete, he will be able to see you as you are supposed to be, and not this defiant, rude shell you have been living in.”

“Do you think so?” Eliza’s voice held an innocent quality.

Martha kissed her forehead, hugging her, “Yes, darling. But you have many changes you need to make. I don’t like having to force them upon you either, nor does the master. These changes need to come from you. Reforming, in the view of Lord Remington, means starting over in the beginning, where things began to make you who you are. In your case, it’s a very little, lonely, neglected girl.”

“But I’m a woman grown,” Eliza said quietly, sagging against the woman’s large chest. “I can’t be a little girl again, Martha. It’s too late for me.”

“I am telling you that you are here to start over, child. Put the grown woman away and allow yourself to experience life as a little one. Let us raise you in the way you were meant to be, with love, guidance, purpose, and discipline. Can you try to do that?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Eliza whispered.

“It’s between your reformer, his assistants, and you. The earl will not allow anything to be hidden from him. And you will learn to trust him with your vulnerability. Can you try this, Eliza?” Martha asked gently, her arms holding the limp woman.

“Yes, ma’am. I will try.”

“Good girl. Now, start by calling me Nanny. What would you like to do?”

“I’m really hungry. Do I still have to finish that dreadful porridge?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Very well. Nanny?” Eliza forced out, “Thank you. And I’m sorry I was so difficult.”

“You will be fine, my girl. Now, let’s get some food in your tummy. And after, we can take out some toys from the box. Does that sound enjoyable?”

Eliza sniffed, and a small smile skimmed over her lips. Actually, it did!

* * *

Ryan sighed as Aryanna struggled over reading the book he had given her. It was a simple child’s story, yet her ability to form the words was overtly difficult. She looked up at him tearfully.

“Ary…”

“I,” he corrected.

Aryanna nodded, closing the book. “Yes. I read bad. Understand words but cannot speak them.”

“Your sentence structure is improving, so smile, my dove,” Ryan praised with a gentle pat on the hand. He thought for a moment. “Do you like music?”

“Yes! Ary—I sing better than Lord Ryan draws butterfly,” Aryanna grinned, seizing the opportunity to tease. She was rewarded by him shaking a finger at her.

“You are quite the brat. Let’s try this,” Ryan suggested, holding his hand out for her. She followed him into the conservatory and sat next to him at the piano. She touched the keys tentatively, looking at him with eagerness.

“Lord Ryan? Teach me to play?”

“I would love to. My mother is a much more accomplished musician than I am, but I can teach you the basics. Let’s start with a simple song. Slowly read the words. Follow them with your finger as I sing them to you,” he said, putting out music before her. He began to sing in a soft, low voice, slowly so that she could follow the words. When he finished, he started again, joined by Aryanna’s delicate soprano. To his surprise, she harmonized with him.

“That was beautiful,” Ryan whispered, turning towards her. Her lips beckoned to him, and, without thinking, he drew his mouth to hers. Aryanna did not protest, allowing him to boldly explore her with his tongue and pressing her body into his. The angry clinking of the keys jolted Ryan back to the present.

“I’m sorry, Ary. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m your reformer, not your lover,” he whispered, his fingertips touching her swollen lower lip.

“I am not sorry. Lord Ryan is good reformer,” Aryanna stated. “Kiss tastes better than candy.”

“You little fox. Very well, let’s try this again, and maybe I will give you another kiss,” Ryan grinned, his guilt melting away under the bright blue gaze of her affection. He wondered if his parents’ love began the same way.

* * *

Brigit patiently waited in the parlor for Gerard’s arrival, thinking of her beginnings with him. A smile lit her face as she sipped her tea, wondering how her son was faring with that sweet, darling girl.

Brigit had been very young, just turned eighteen-years-old, when she had found herself in the control of a man nearly twice her age. Her English was poor at the time, and she was uncertain of the expectations he held. He was referred to as a reformer, but she did not know the meaning behind the word, or the position. Would he demand her innocence as payment for rescuing her from the jails? She had trembled at the thought, knowing very little of what occurred between men and women, except that it was an unpleasant, painful, and dirty occurrence. However, this Lord Gerard was very pleasing to the eye and did not stink. That, at least, was a minor blessing in the midst of her grave situation.

She was covered with soot, dressed in torn, dirty clothing and well-worn boots. It had been weeks since she had bathed or had a warm meal in her stomach. Lord Gerard eyed her gravely and pointed to the carriage, ordering her inside. His manner demanded no nonsense, and Brigit found herself reluctantly obeying. He had the dignity not to cover his nose as they sat across from each other on the silent journey to his home in the country where she would be trained. Brigit felt hopelessness envelope her as they drove far from civilization and any chance of escape. Upon their arrival, a tall, husky woman in a severe bun and high-buttoned dress met them at the doorway. She was introduced as Mrs. Stiller.

“I want her scrubbed down and fed. Then bring her to my study,” Gerard ordered. Brigit followed the woman, confused and frightened by the overwhelming immensity of the home and the cold, indifferent tone used by the reformer. Had she already displeased him? She looked at Martha with uncertainty, hoping to draw some sympathy from the stark-faced woman. Her disapproval was evident, and Brigit felt her heart sink. She suddenly found herself missing Mum and Da, and she broke down in a torrent of wails that were heard clear downstairs.

Gerard raced to her side, seeing the girl in a lump on the floor with her knees brought to her chest as she cried out. “That girl’s got lungs like a banshee,” he said, plugging his ears. “What happened, Martha?”

“I don’t know, sir. We were walking, and then she suddenly collapsed in this heap,” Martha stated, hands on her hips. “Did you bring one prone to hysterics?”

“No, I don’t believe so. I think she might be a bit taken in by her events. Go prepare her bath, please. I will calm her.”

“Lord Remington, it isn’t proper that you be left unchaperoned—”

“Martha, we are entering a new age of propriety. As a reformer, I must feel free to do my task without concern for the social gossip. I made this clear when I hired you for this position. I promise you, the girl’s virtue will remain intact, although her dignity may not.”

“Yes, sir. As you see fit.” Martha bowed her head in deference.

“Very good. Now go prepare her bath. I will tend to her. Ah, no arguments, Martha. This is how it will be unless I say otherwise.”

Brigit was unaware of the conversation that occurred over her head as she clutched her knees and sobbed furiously, overwrought with despair and fear. She felt strong arms lifting her off the ground and a warm, soothing voice in her ear as she was taken into the bathing area. Through her blurred tears, she saw the outline of the large man as he sat her upon a stool and slowly rolled up his sleeves. Her eyes grew wide and a scream escaped her mouth. He was going to beat her!