The Reformer (17 page)

Aryanna, not aware of Ryan's legendary temper, glared at the man with complete unawareness of how his eyes darkened with anger. He clenched his jaw to the sting and grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to strike him again.

“I want an explanation, Aryanna, and I want it this minute.”

“You go!” Aryanna spouted, holding back livid tears. “You hold Eliza and other wards. Not me.”

“You're jealous?” Ryan asked with surprise. “You are actually jealous? Do you think I like Eliza in the same way I care for you?”

“Lord Ryan is
my
reformer,” Aryanna stated her claim, her chin raised in defiance. “You no hold Eliza.”

“Now wait just one minute, missy. I can hold another woman to comfort her if I see fit. You do not issue orders to me, understand?”

“You are incorrigible!” Aryanna yelled, using her favorite insult as she stomped her foot.

“Aryanna, I will not have this behavior. If you persist… yes, Father?” Ryan said, noticing Gerard standing outside the carriage door. He joined them without invitation. “Can I help you?”

“No, but it appears that I can help you. Eliza told me what happened. Aryanna, enough of this. Lord Ryan is your reformer, not your possession. If this continues, I will take over for him and he will reform Eliza.”

Aryanna's eyes grew wide and, without warning, she released a loud scream of frustration.

“What in God's name is going on in here?” Brigit asked, sliding in next to her husband.

“Father, Mother, I can handle this…” Ryan growled. “It's getting cramped in here.”

Brigit shook her head, ushering the two men out and demanding they close the door behind them. She grabbed Aryanna's hands. “What is troubling you, dearest? Take your time. I know it is hard for you to find your words right now.”

“Mama! Ryan hold Eliza. He kiss her. He…”

“Is a reformer, my sweet. Did he kiss her in the same way he kisses you?” Brigit asked, suspicious of Ryan's demonstration of affection by how Aryanna was reacting.

“No. Ryan kiss here,” Aryanna touched her lips. She looked at Brigit helplessly. “Mama, Eliza read and write… Ryan likes…”

“My darling, darling girl…” Brigit sighed, understanding. “Reading and writing is important to Ryan, but you are learning. He is proud of you and how hard you work to please him. He does not care for Eliza in his heart like he cares for you. Do not allow jealousy to take away the sweetness that he is learning to love in you.”

“I am angry with Ryan. Not Eliza. He told her to touch him,” Aryanna sniffled.

“Papa touches you that same way he touches Eliza. Does that make you angry?”

“No, Mama.”

“Does that make me angry that he does?”

Aryanna looked at the older woman and felt immediate shame. Gerard was her husband, and she smiled when he hugged the other girls.

“I am sorry, mama. I am bad.”

“No, honey, you are human. Now, did my eyes catch a red mark on Ryan's cheek?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“You are never to strike a reformer,” Brigit sighed. “I cannot help you if Ryan decides to punish you for that.”

“Mama? I want to go home,” Aryanna said, exhausted and ashamed of her behavior.

“You may go home when Ryan decides it is time. Now, come out of here. You need to make amends with Ryan and Papa.”

* * *

“Mother did what?” Ryan asked as his father relayed the time when Brigit had reacted the same way after Gerard was seen hugging a visiting cousin.

“She picked up a flower vase and splashed the contents in my face, then kicked my shin. I was livid,” Gerard chuckled.

“What did you do?”

“You know exactly what I did. But, like Aryanna, she had a hard time verbalizing her pain because of the language barrier. I made certain she understood that she was not punished for her jealousy but for the tantrum.”

“Did it prevent further problems?”

“What do you think?” Gerard asked with a grin. Ryan frowned, realizing that this was likely the first of many fits he would witness from this woman over the course of their lives together. It did not matter—he still wanted her.

“I should take her back to the house,” Ryan sighed.

“No, make her stay here and anticipate. In fact, don't discipline her until the morrow. Allow her to fret through the night. I found that worked best when your mother was particularly wicked in her behavior. It made her accept her punishment with more understanding.”

“I recall Mother doing the same to me on several occasions when I felt the need to irritate her beyond her level of patience. It was very effective. I will take your advice, Father. Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, my boy. Just do not forget to reassure her of your care for her.”

“I won't. Where are Eliza and Martha?”

“It is past seven, and Eliza is being put to bed. What is your impression?”

“As always, you have broken through a hard shell. I hope that I will be as effective one day,” Ryan responded sincerely. “I admire how you are able to mend a broken heart, Father. I feel inadequate in comparison.”

“We all have our beginnings, my son. Your mother was my first, and my most difficult. Speaking of which…” Gerard said, standing as Brigit and Aryanna entered the room. Ryan joined him, his eyes resting on Aryanna's reddened face. Brigit approached him, whispering into his ear. Silently, Ryan nodded. She had given him the same advice as his father.

The ride back to Ryan's house was quiet. Aryanna was exhausted, physically and emotionally, as well as quite shamed by her outburst. Ryan studied her carefully, allowing her time to process her thoughts without interruption. He held out his hand to help her from the carriage and silently led her inside.

“Let's get you to bed, Aryanna,” he said quietly.

“Lord Ryan spank me?” came the nervous question.

“Tomorrow. And I will be taking you to the barn for a dose of the strap. You will never strike me again, Aryanna. I am so very disappointed in you. There was no reason for that.” Ryan's voice was low and sad, causing Aryanna grief.

“I am sorry, Ryan. Please, forgive.”

“I have forgiven you, dove. But you must still pay the cost of your actions. Arms up,” Ryan ordered, slipping the dress over her head. Silently, he dressed her in a cotton gown and took her hair down from its elaborate chignon, watching as it fell in silken waves down her back. He began to brush the shimmering strands, allowing them to flow through his fingers. Still quiet, he made a braid and tied the end with a ribbon.

Aryanna was uncomfortable with his silent gestures. Hair-brushing was the time they would chat and sometimes even sing. Tonight it was a task that neither enjoyed, anticipating the upcoming day. Aryanna clung tightly to her doll as Ryan tucked the blankets about her. He rested a quick kiss upon her forehead and left the room without a sound. Aryanna turned into her pillow and cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Eleven

“Nanny? Did I do something wrong?” Eliza asked as she looked upon the ceiling from her bed.

“No, child. Why do you ask this?” Martha responded, placing her sewing upon the table and turning up the lamp.

Eliza rolled over to her side to look at the women. “The mood changed in the room tonight after Aryanna left. It felt… sad.”

“Aryanna struck a reformer. It did not matter the reason, but it is something they do not allow. She will be punished severely for it, and that saddens them.”

“But, it was my fault. If I had not allowed Lord Ryan to hug me…”

“It was her choosing, Eliza. And, I must say, I am pleased with your statement. I know Papa will also be happy to hear of it.”

“I don't understand.” Eliza sat up, careful not to rock the bassinet.

“You tried to take responsibility for your actions. Actions that you felt led to another being hurt. That is the sign of a repentant heart. Now, go to sleep, my darling. Tomorrow will be coming much too soon.”

Eliza obeyed, leaning back and closing her eyes. She felt a genuine ache for what Aryanna was to face the following day. A single tear pooled in the corner of her eye, wishing that she could do something to stop it.

* * *

Ryan stepped outside to the porch and settled in the swing that overlooked the pond. The night was warm and loud with the sounds of frogs and crickets, and he longed to hold Aryanna next to him to enjoy it. He dreaded his chore for the upcoming day, part of him hoping that he would have reason to delay it. His father had been firm regarding dealing swiftly and fairly with bad deeds, and that the only reason to take pause was to be able to administer punishment calmly and without anger or resentment. Ryan felt neither, but he agreed with his parents that Aryanna needed the night to feel true remorse and guilt over her behavior. True, the jealousy was not unwarranted. Ryan understood that. But slapping him was, for it showed her inability to maintain herself in a proper manner when facing difficulty. Part of reform was to teach the girls how to face conflict and struggles appropriately, and to respond—rather than react—to things in a way that would not bring them more pain.

Ryan rubbed his neck. He hated bringing any type of pain to Aryanna, emotionally or physically. He did not deny her wrongdoings—for those she had to be disciplined. He just wished that he did not have to be the one who did it. He looked over his shoulder as Aryanna came through the door, bare-footed and in her sleeping dress. She kneeled at his feet and placed her head on his knee, a gesture that touched his heart in the deepest of ways. Silently, he stroked her hair, petting her gently as though to soothe away her fears. He felt her hot tears soaking through his pants.

“It's late, dove. Why are you out of bed?” he asked, his hand resting gently on her wet cheek.

“I am so sorry, Lord Ryan. I… I love you,” she whispered, not moving from her position.

“I love you as well, Ary. Lord, how I love you. I know I shouldn't, but you have captured my heart and soul. I am your reformer. I am supposed to teach you right from wrong, not take you for my own,” Ryan quietly said.

“Hitting you wrong. I had anger. Please, punish now.”

“No, Ary. Not now. This has to settle in your heart. And in mine. Shhh, don't cry. There will be time for tears tomorrow.” Ryan said, pulling her onto his lap and tenderly wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He felt her slump trustingly against him, her head tucked neatly beneath his chin and her legs curled up in a ball against him. She was warm and soft, and Ryan was in no hurry to move. He, too, closed his eyes and in minutes fell asleep with Aryanna cradled in his arms.

Singing birds woke him the next morning, along with a chill from the dawn. Neither had moved that entire night. Carefully, Ryan stood from the swing, the girl still in his arms, and took her into the house. He laid her upon his bed and draped a quilt over her body, sitting next to her to study her delicate features. Once again, ignoring propriety, he laid down next to her and pulled her against his body as he buried his nose in her hair.

Neither he nor Aryanna heard the footsteps or the door to his room open an hour later. Gerard stood in the doorway, shaking his head. He hated to be the one to break their peaceful repose, but it was necessary.

“Ryan? Wake up, man. What is this?”

“Hmm? Oh, good morning, Father. What are you doing here?”

“I should ask the same of your bed partner. What is going through your mind?”

“There is nothing indecent. We are both clothed, and she is under the quilt. She was cold and…”

“And you could not resist her. Yes, I understand, but you have a job to do. Come downstairs. We need to talk.”

“Father, I am no longer a child. I can—”

“It's not about Aryanna. It's about the drought.”

Those words caught Ryan's attention, and he quickly followed his father down the stairs and into the sitting room. Gerard had gotten a post early that morning from another tenancy. The crops were starting to wither, and action was needed. He said he had thought about Aryanna's idea of canning and wanted to spread the word to his tenants to put that into action. He had already ordered hundreds of canning jars and grain bags, as well as barrels for water. Most of the tenants did not have telegraph services, therefore he required Ryan's help to get the word out immediately.

Ryan nodded, glancing upwards in the direction of his room. Dealing with Aryanna would have to wait. Gerard caught his gesture. “No, son. You must proceed with your duty to your home first. It would be cruel to make her wait any longer for punishment. Go wake her.”

“But Father… yes, you are right,” Ryan admitted with a frown. He excused himself and ventured slowly upstairs and into Aryanna's room, where he sat next to her on the bed. With an unhappy sigh, he gently shook her awake.

“Lord Ryan? Are you ill?” Aryanna asked sleepily, immediately noticing the expression on his face along with the shadow of his unshaven face.

“No, dove. I have business with Father I must attend to. But, before I go, you and I have a visit to the barn.”

“No, please… I be good. No more hit you,” Aryanna pleaded as Ryan stepped back, extending his hand for her.

“With me, now. Let us put this unpleasantness behind us.”

Aryanna wrinkled her brow and slowly accepted his hand. He squeezed hers gently, reassuring her of his love, and lead her downstairs. She was still barefoot and undressed as she came before Gerard. Throwing herself into his arms, she begged him to help her.

“Aryanna, stop this nonsense,” Gerard said firmly, putting her at arm's distance and looking sternly into her face. “You deserve this. Accept what is owed you and move on.”

“It hurt, Papa! Many weeks!”

“No, only a day or two. You will not be beaten, child. But you will be punished. Go now.”

Gerard chuckled as she dragged her feet behind Ryan, looking back at him with one more sad glance. Even after all these years, Gerard could not resist that expression. He threw a kiss to her and smiled as she caught it.

Aryanna stuck out her lower lip as Ryan brushed off the sawhorse and laid a saddle blanket over the top. He purposefully ignored her attempt to elicit his sympathy and pointed to the platform.