Chapter 18
Sarah's House 1830
Amy was unceremoniously tossed from the horse to land on her bottom with a hard thud. She looked up at Joseph with rage. She had bruises on top of bruises. He was grinning mischievously, showing his rotting yellow teeth.
“You look dirty and ragged now. Yer face ain't quite dirty enough, but that hair looks mighty different, all dirty and tangled.” He laughed as he slipped down off the saddle and grabbed her by the hair and dragged her toward a house that was well-maintained. A sign hung from the roof reading, “Sarah's House.” It appeared to be a quaint cottage that a normal family might inhabit. Bricks made up the structure of the building and brightly painted green shutters adorned the windows. It was three stories high with flower boxes hanging from the windows sporting red geraniums that met the ivy crawling up the house from the ground level. A wide wooden porch surrounded the house, hosting comfortable rocking chairs that looked well-used. Well-kept grounds surrounded the house with brightly colored flower beds in abundance.
Amy yelled in pain and tried to punch him with her swinging fists. He kept her out of range of hitting him. He growled as he yanked and jerked her back and forth like a dog with a favorite toy. Sweat mixed with dirt made the duo look like the lowest kept urchins. The front door opened and a woman came out to stand on the porch, her hands on her hips as she took in the two ragged people on her front steps.
Sarah was of middle years, with yellow blonde hair stacked on her head, rounded and plump where men appreciated curves. She wore makeup to cover her advancing years, but not so much as to be considered tacky. Wearing a gown considered racy for any lady, it was still conservative for her profession. The gown revealed her curves and displayed the tops of her ample breasts revealing enough cleavage to attract a man's interest. Sarah was a no-nonsense woman who abhorred drama and this was a drama in the making. She sighed in frustration.
“What do we have here? You are making quite a ruckus. My girls sleep during the day,” Sarah said glaring at Joseph as if he were a slug on her porch. She could size up a situation faster than most and took pride in her abilities which kept her well off. What was she? Flypaper for idiots? The man looked demented and dangerous which was always a concern for her. The girl was dirty, dressed like a lowly peasant.
“Well, I want to sell her to you,” Joseph announced proudly. “What would you pay me for her? She cleans up like a tidy package.”
“Are you crazy? What worm bore into your pea brain?” she asked him. “Jeb,” she yelled. “Come out here and see what we have here cluttering my clean respectable porch.” It was time to call in her reinforcements. That is why she kept Jeb close by. He was well worth the funds she paid him to stay by her side. His boxing talents were occasionally appreciated and necessary, not to mention the scare tactics involved, just laying your eyes on his girth.
“I am the Duchess of Brightmore. This villain has kidnapped me!” Amy announced out of breath. It was all she could do to get that much said. She had been breathing dust for miles and was so parched she felt like cotton was stuffed down her throat. After screeching for hours her voice was raw and in no way resembled her soft lady-like manners. Who would believe her? Joseph was smarter than she had given him credit, taking her gown that lay claim to her story and with all the dirt and tangles in her hair, she was a sorry sight to behold.
Joseph laughed. “She has a wee head condition as ye can tell. She bumped her head a while back. She thinks she is a Duchess, but I figured some man ought to pay real well for the opportunity to lay her.”
“Is that so? My place is respectable and I don't take unwilling women. I do not ‘buy' women.” Jeb came out to stand beside Sarah. He was a huge bear of a man that used his fists to keep peace. His fists were as big as hams and his arms were as big as thighs, now folded over his chest in a stand of strength. Very few ever thought they could best Jeb. He was clean and well-groomed.
“She isn't unwilling. She asked me to bring her here to work for you. She is just reluctant now ‘cause she is mad at me. I want payment for bringing her to you,” insisted Joseph.
“Jeb, get a bottle from the cabinet for me.” Jeb disappeared inside and came back with a bottle of whisky. Taking it from Jeb, she tossed it to Joseph who caught it with two hands. He looked at the bottle and nodded. Jeb crossed his burly thick arms across his chest once again and waited for orders from Sarah. He watched the unbalanced man uncork the bottle and take a long swig of the whisky, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
Sarah had seen all this sort of thing before. Nothing surprised her anymore. She hated seeing how this demented man was treating this urchin and watched him with disgust. He was a waste of space on this earth. Men could be brutes and she took delight in making certain no man abused her women.
“Thanks, …now for my money,” Joseph said holding his hand out for the funds he expected.
“That's all you are entitled to. Now get off my respectable porch, you pond scum.” Sarah said smirking.
“Now wait just a blasted minute…you can't do that!” Joseph started to grab Amy who backed up and slapped his hands away. “I traveled a long ways and I had it on good authority you need gals.”
“I do need gals, but I don't take beat-up dirty women that is unwilling. I already made that clear, you idiot lacking ears. Now bugger off. Jeb, help this drunk'n idiot off my bloody damned porch,” Jeb took a step toward Joseph who backed down the porch.
“You are fortunate to get the bottle to keep you company on your ride out of here. Never set foot on my property again or I'll have you tarred and feathered, you hear me?” Sarah was not going to take any nonsense from this idiot. Sometimes she relished the opportunity to blow some steam and with Jeb to back her up, she had no qualms speaking her mind.
Joseph realized that Jeb meant business as he kept advancing toward Joseph with murder in his eyes. Joseph realized he had miscalculated this plan.
“You cheatin' bitch!” Joseph proclaimed as he ran for his horse, looking behind him for any sign of Jeb coming after him for his last hasty remark. He was clearly angry and flustered. Keeping himself full of whisky didn't help the matter. When Joseph awkwardly got into the saddle and pulled out a whip to give the horse a piece of his demented mind, the horse reared in an effort to rid himself of his abusive passenger. His legs were in the air pawing the sky in protest. Joseph waved his whip in anger and yelled at the horse flailing his arms in an effort to execute a whip to the horse.
Without warning, the frantic horse threw Joseph to the ground, rearing and bellowing. Joseph was in no condition to calm the horse. Suddenly Joseph gave a short yelp, and there was a snap of bones as he tumbled out of control. In an effort to right himself, the horse stepped on Joseph with his front hooves, his eyes wild from the whippings of the deranged rider.
All three on the porch gazed in shocked horror at the crumbled body on the ground. Joseph was twisted in an unnatural angle, his eyes open in a glazed stare that would no longer see. Blood trickled from his mouth, ears and nose. The horse backed up and settled down, now satisfied that his rider would not rise again.
Amy could not believe what had just happened. So there is justice after all. She sighed at the thought that all the brutality was over. Now some different problems have come to light, she suddenly realized. Was this nightmare never to be over? How was she to convince Sarah that she was a Duchess and not the dirty peasant she appeared to be? Thanks to Joseph she looked the part of a whore.
“Blasted damn! Bloody hell! Now, he's gone and killed himself. And right here off my respectable porch, for God's sake.” Sarah gave a deep sigh of frustration and looked at Jeb. “I guess we have to bury him now. Jeb, bury him behind the rear rose garden. Do it now. Dead bodies distract business and stink.”
Jeb nodded and went over to the body, hoisted it over his shoulder and proceeded toward the rear rose garden. Sarah looked over at Amy who was still starring at the spot where Joseph had been. Just a few drops of blood remained to lay claim to his existence.
“Come with me, girl. You look like you could use a hot bath. Maybe a shot of brandy wouldn't hurt.”
Sarah would call the magistrate later. He was a regular customer and would back her on this untidy little piece of nasty business. Sarah reached for Amy's arm and pulled her up to a standing position. “I've had a full day, girl. First, my favorite girl married, with my blessing. Then my ragamuffin dog tore up my favorite rose bush, then two of my girls got sick on cook's stew which I think was a little over the hill to start with…and now some blasted idiot gone and broke his worthless neck in my beautiful front yard!” Amy followed the woman into the house as she talked on and on. Blabbering, people call it.
****
Arden and Bradley pulled their horses to a spot in front of a rundown hunter's shack. “They were here not so long ago. We should catch up to them soon.” Arden said as he looked into the shack briefly. Suddenly both men turned around hearing a twig crunch not so far from where they were standing.
“Who goes there?” Bradley asked as he pulled his gun out and cocked it.
Just then a man came around a tree pulling his horse behind him. “Put your gun away Bradley,” Gavin Metcaffe said saluting the two men. “I had to ride like hell to catch up with you.”
“Ah, Uncle Gavin. With all the excitement I forgot that you and Aunt Bea were due here. But it is good you are to join us.” Bradley turned to Arden and said, “Gavin was a Bow Street runner and there is no better at tracking.” Arden nodded.
“Luckily, he isn't making any effort to cover his trail.” Gavin said. “He is not competent, I gather.”
“He is minus all his faculties which worries me, since he has my wife.” Arden grumbled. Arden adjusted his hat over his brow and turned his horse.
“All the more reason we mustn't tarry,” Gavin added mounting his horse.
The sky darkened and the threat of rain was upon them. Not the best condition for tracking. Arden began to allow his mind to wander to the first time he saw his wife. It was a rainy night, cold with a breeze that took the rain with it to create an angler shower of icy water
Amy had been huddled in blankets, her body so frail that it was impossible to know a person was hidden among the warmth. He reached in the carriage and fumbled for a moment to find the body within and was shocked at how weak and light this bundle turned out to be. Cradling her against his chest, Arden had found himself mumbling idiotic assurances that seemed to come out of nowhere. Her white-blonde hair spoke of age or perhaps shock or was it natural? Either way, the hair was matted to her head in a tangle that seemed impossible to comb out. Her father had hair this color or perhaps a bit grayer, but it seemed a result of age and hard work, not so much the hair of youth.
Arden could hardly focus on the road, with his distracting thoughts taking control, but then Gavin was in the lead tracking with precision and confidence that needed no other assistance. It was a comfort to be sure. Both men followed Gavin's lead as the sky grew darker, threatening a storm. A crack of thunder broke the silence and the three men all looked to the sky. Lightening now lit the sky making the road more visible for seconds at a time.
Arden had never been a religious man, however he had his own set of beliefs that suited him and made him comfortable in his skin. But as his horse steadily moved ahead, he found himself praying.
Please keep Amy safe. Please keep her unharmed. She is probably afraid. She has hardly lived as yet. She is young and inexperienced.
Arden was scowling so badly his face hurt. But he couldn't help it. Damn it anyway! He was, after all, frustrated. He liked the way she bit her lip when she thought through something and the way the left side of her mouth would lift up first with the promise of a smile. Oh, how he hated not being in control. He wanted her back and just the way she was before she was taken. Perfect. Well, perfect to him.
When he was a small boy he had witnessed a marriage in Brightmore village. It was most probably a farmer and his very young bride. He watched them speak their vows and look at each other with devotion and love. Yes, they had been in love and it was radiating from their souls. At that moment, which was ingrained in his boyhood memory, he had wanted that for himself. The thought left him breathless.
The dream seemed lost to him in the years since that incident. He was busy with school and his career. Seeing some of the world's misery had made him lose hope and question his beliefs and dreams. There seemed to be so little compassion in his world and too much Despair. Life was unfair. He felt a moment of that misery now. His world had been dark with little light to make him happy or satisfied.
Amy bought him happiness and revived that promise of his dream of so long ago. He discovered that he liked to please her…change her life for the better. Watch the moments of happiness light up her face. She had the face of hope for him. The promise of something better. He swore to himself at the unfairness of this situation. Amy was paying the price of his deeds.
****
Sarah Graven was once a respectable woman. Or, perhaps passable as one. She had started out in the slums of London living on the streets, as many homeless urchins did. Of course she dressed and acted as a boy, because any female would have been abducted to work in the whore houses where they didn't last long. Instead, Sarah avoided that and had done well. She became a thief and survived --the lesser of the evils. Mostly she stole from drunks that were not respectable or from the rich that made the mistake of crossing her path. Sarah sometimes stole food and other times she would pick the pockets of drunks lying unconscious in alleys where no one could catch her. Sarah worked for no one but herself which was more profitable and safer.
There were plenty of obstacles in her way. It was hard to avoid being taken over by one of the gangs that were organized thievery. Sarah worked quickly and efficiently in the alley, for the risk of being caught was great. If one job proved too difficult she would abandon it. She had established rules for herself and followed them without exception, since that was important to survival in this unforgiving place. It would not be worth it to be caught no matter the reward. It was a hanging offense after all.
Sometimes she'd gain a gold pocket watch, but usually coin was her reward. Once in a while if she looked pitiful enough a rich bloke would toss her a coin for doing nothing but looking forlorn. Sarah saved her coins and hid them in a safe place, never carrying them on her person. Years of that life finally paid off and she started looking in the country for a small property that she could settle in comfortably.
One day a Duke wanted to get rid of a small parcel of land with a quaint cottage on it. More commonly these cottages were used to retire a loyal staff person of the elite. It was on the edge of his property and it was not entailed. He needed the funds desperately, which surprised Sarah. She thought Dukes had it all. Land, position, power, money and castles. But this was another lesson to be learned. The titled gents hadn't worked a day in their lives and didn't appreciate what they had. They gambled, whored, and sometimes cheated and then wondered how their wealth disappeared.
In this case the Duke had done it all and eventually got himself killed in a duel for his cheating. But Sarah did all right. She negotiated until she got the cottage for the price she wanted. Any freshness or pretty traits had disappeared with the hard life she had led, but no matter. Each line in her face spoke of a lesson and a hard- earned lesson at that. She liked the sun and never wore a hat. Her weathered face was testament of that liking.
At first Sarah just wanted to live in her cottage respectable-like and comfortable. But then she hooked up with a bloke who she thought would marry her. Bloody damn useless emotions. It turned out he just used her like a whore and after a time it just seemed like that was the natural business for her. He moved on and she moved on. In the end, Sarah took pride in being a tough woman. It was a matter of survival after all.
Several runaways, an orphan or two and she opened “Sarah's House.” The girls were clean and she would keep one third of their take. If they weren't prone to the business, then they mended, tended the gardens, cooked or cleaned house. Everyone pulled their weight. Sarah took care of them, nursed them when they were sick and dried a few tears. They had good food and a decent life and Sarah would not allow any rough play on her girls. She was protective of her girls. If business was slow, the girls would all garden, growing vegetables and flowers. There were fruit trees, too, bordering the property.
Sarah gazed down at the woman sprawled on her porch staring up at her. She was filthy like the pond scum that killed himself falling from his horse. But the ragamuffin's eyes held intelligence and her gut told her this woman was a victim. Sarah sighed. It seemed to be her lot in life to have another waif to protect. But she liked her life and she slept well at night.
Sarah held out her hand toward Amy. “Come along. Let's get you cleaned up and see what's hiding under all that dirt.” Sarah turned to the open doorway where several girls bunched together watching the drama on the porch.
“Jenny, get a bath started for our guest. Pearl, find something clean she can wear. Tes, go get some cheese, bread and ham for our guest…and some ale too. She looks half starved. The rest of you get back to your business.” The girls scampered off to do their chores. Sarah had not raised her voice, but the women did not question their orders.
****
Amy sighed with relief and pleasure sinking into the hot water to wet her hair for shampooing. Jenny, a pretty young woman, with red hair and freckles, bent over the copper tub putting a heavy dose of lavender shampoo in Amy's hair. Her fingers massaged Amy's scalp as Amy relaxed against the side of the small tub.
“That feels like heaven,” Amy mumbled under her breath.
“Those bruises must hurt…and they will turn an ugly yellow. Did that nasty man do that to you?” Jenny asked as she started to use a pail of water to rinse Amy's long hair.
“He treated his wife worse. But she is no longer plagued by him. You are very kind to help me.”
“We all help each other here. We are like sisters since most of us have no families to claim us.” Jenny wiped her hands off on a nearby towel and watched Amy scrub herself from head to toe.
“You speak well…like you have been educated,” Amy said rinsing soap from her legs.
Jenny smiled. “Yes. I was fortunate to have been educated prior to my father gambling everything away. After selling everything off, my mother dying of consumption, I took to the streets…until Sarah saved me. I have taught some of the other girls here to read and write. Sarah encourages women to gain every skill possible to better themselves.” Jenny wrapped a towel around Amy's hair to dry it.
Amy rubbed the towel on her head to dry her hair. Jenny helped her into a clean worn chemise and a simple day gown that came close to fitting Amy. Jenny grabbed a brush and comb and began the task of combing through the massive tangles with great patience and care. She began to hum a tune as she worked with serious focus on her job. Then Jenny paused as she noticed the warm flames of the fire.
“Come sit by the fire while I comb the snarls from your hair.”
Amy sat on a wooden bench in front of the fire and Jenny sat on the floor cross-legged. She began working on small amounts of knotted hair with continued tolerance for the tedious project working the wet tangles out slowly. “Your hair is such an unusual color. I have never seen this color before,” Jenny said with admiration.
Several quick wraps on the door and Sarah stepped in. She glanced at the two women in front of the fire. “Ahhh, you clean up well, I see. Your hair…it is very striking.” Amy drew back, nervous about what to expect from this woman. “You needn't fear me child.” She held up a gown she had been carrying. It was wrinkled, but grand. “Jeb found this in the saddlebag. It is a rich gown…suited to a Duchess. Whose Duchess are you?”
Amy watched Sarah's face for any sign of smugness or treachery, but saw none. The woman stood waiting for Amy to answer. Jenny had her mouth open in surprise and took a glance at the woman she had been so candid with.
“I don't suppose you need a job?” Sarah asked with a hint of a smile. When Amy looked stunned, Sarah said, “I didn't think so. Do not worry your pretty head over it, my dear. I meant it when I said I do not hire unwilling women in my establishment. I will send for your Duke if you wish.”