Chapter 8
Brightmore Manor 1830
Amy woke early the next morning and dressed in her most practical gown. She brushed her hair and had Daisy style it simply for her day with Arden. She would take her big straw hat to shade her eyes. She raced downstairs eager to talk to cook about the baskets for the tenants. They put together baskets with preserves, apples, cheese, sausage and some of cook's muffins and scones.
Arden was waiting for her in the front drive as a footman loaded the baskets. He looked stunning in his black boots and tight beige slacks hugging his thick muscular thighs. His hair was neatly combed, although a rebellious lock of hair hung on his forehead giving him a rakish appearance.
“Good morning, Amy.” His eyes scanned her entire body from head to toe, causing an appreciative grin to light his face. “You look lovely this morning, my dear,” he said as he lifted her into the carriage taking his time holding her waist. After setting her on her seat carefully, he spread a heavy wool blanket over her lap as he sat across from her. He was still grinning at her and reminded her of a little boy with uncontrolled glee. It was impossible not to be influenced by his pleasure.
“Where are we going first, Arden? I am so excited to meet your tenants.”
He smiled warmly at her. “They are “our” tenants…and we are going to see Elizabeth Summers first. She just had her fourth child and it was a difficult birth. After having a labor lasting more than ten hours her oldest son came for me. The baby needed turning…it was what they call breach. They thought they were going to lose her and the child,” he said as they set out for the first farm. “She was exhausted and had just given up.”
“I have heard of that. Papa talked to me a little about that problem. She is well now?”
Arden nodded. “Of course, I walk on water, now…” He laughed a deep husky laugh that was contagious. “They can use the basket since Elizabeth is still weak.”
“Do the children help her?” Amy asked.
“The two older boys help with the milking and plowing the fields. The little girl might be of some use to Elizabeth in the house. She is old enough, I think.”
“Do these children go to school? I should think reading and writing would be important for their survival too…,” Amy offered tentatively.
“Whenever I broach opening a school for all the village and farm children, I find controversy within their own ranks. Many of the women want it for their children, to better their lives. Most of the men do not support it because they need the children's help with the chores, and farm work and see no benefit in educating their children.”
“Perhaps a few days a week for a few hours..?”
“To gather all the children would take as much time as there is to teach them, unfortunately. Believe me, I have tried to come up with a solution.”
“I see you have given this some serious thought.” Arden nodded his head in agreement. “How sad life is that a child works at such a young age with no better opportunity in sight,” she added.
“I have spoken to Parliament on that subject…about children who follow their fathers into the mines to work at as young as seven…are some of the worse, but the privileged don't always care about the poor and their troubles. It is an uphill battle, I am afraid.” Arden gave a sigh to show his frustrations on the subject. “I still bring it up again and again in hopes that they will grow weary of my nagging and sign my bill into law. One can only try.”
“Do you attend Parliament often?”
“Only when something interests me. Like, health issues…such as our water systems, children that are working too young…things that are hard for me to let go.” Amy nodded her approval.
“That is good of you to care enough to go and speak out, Arden. Of course it would be good if more people did so.”
Amy watched the green hills and beautiful scenery out the window and they both fell silent. It felt good to talk to Arden and learn of his thoughts, his passions and how he deals with them. She had the same concerns and having that in common made her feel content that this choice for a husband was right. Her father had good insight, she thought. Yes, it was good to have these things in common.
Arden watched the many expressions change on Amy's face as she looked out of the window watching the landscape pass by. He knew her mind had not left their conversation and that she still was processing the information, trying to find a solution. He found himself smiling that his wife was interested in poverty, education and the age of the child work force. Most of the women of the ton were only interested in the weather, fashion and gossip. He grew tired of these shallow women with no concern but of themselves. Amy was refreshing. They in fact were interested in the same things including his medicine practice.
The carriage slowed. Amy looked out the window and saw a small farm house with a thatched roof and a red door. Stone walls separated the property from the rest of the landscape. The carriage rolled in some ruts that jarred them until they stopped.
The footman jumped down and opened the door and Arden jumped down and turned to assist Amy. He lifted her around the waist and set her down gently on the ground. Arden asked the footman to get one of the baskets out and handed it to Amy to present to the family. She put the basket on her arm admiring the property for the love it showed in upkeep.
Elizabeth Summers and her daughter were at the door to greet them. Elizabeth was a large woman in her middle years with light brown hair which was graying at her temples. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the nap of her neck. Elizabeth had a face that declared her life. Hard work, and little relaxation. Survival was always the focus of each thing she accomplished in her life and the years were hard on her. She was carrying her baby as she smiled at Amy and Arden in greeting. Her smile was full of warmth, because even though her life was not easy, she still had a moment of kindness to share. Her daughter was about seven or eight with dark blonde hair tied in braids on either side of her freckled face. She was well cared for, her braids neatly braided, her freckled face clean and shiny.
“Good morning Elizabeth. I hope you are well…” Arden cheerfully said as he and Amy approached her. “May I present my wife, the Duchess of Brightmore.” Elizabeth curtseyed and smiled. “Amy, this is Elizabeth Summers and her daughter, Jenny.” Jenny curtseyed watching her mother for approval. Her mother patted her head with encouragement.
“I am pleased to meet you,” Amy said as she smiled at both mother and daughter. Amy handed the basket to Arden with her eyes on the baby. “May I hold your baby?” Amy asked tentatively reaching for the infant.
“Of course, Your Grace,” responded Elizabeth as she placed her child proudly in Amy's arms. Amy smiled down at the small child and rocked her gently back and forth. “She's a real good baby. Hardly cries at all,” Elizabeth added proudly. Then she looked embarrassed. “Oh, please do come in and I will fix you both some tea.” She opened her door and everyone went inside.
There was a small fire in the fireplace which warmed the room. It was a small neat cottage with a crude wood table, six chairs around the table and two rocking chairs before the fire. The room was homey and warm with a colorful rag rug on the floor. There was a nice pie cabinet that appeared out of place among the simple furnishings. It was richly carved and polished with love. When Elizabeth noticed Amy's eyes, settling on the ornate piece, she smiled broadly.
“His Grace gave us that piece, he did. Said he couldn't use it in his home. I was so surprised…He is a good man.”
Arden seemed embarrassed at the praise. He quickly presented Elizabeth with the basket they brought and she took it, showing such pleasure that both Arden and Amy couldn't help but be equally excited as she took out all the items and put them on the table.
“Oh, my. You are so good to us, Your Graces. So many special things…the preserves…the cheese…scented bars of soap, oh, and tea too.” Elizabeth wiped tears from her eyes with her apron. “These things are such treasures for us. I can't tell you how special this all is...” Elizabeth looked at Amy. “His Grace always does such nice things for us. He is very much respected.”
Amy could feel the warmth of the family and the wonderful feeling of giving to these hard working people. She gazed at Arden for a moment as he was bent down talking to Jenny. Jenny was smiling as Arden had her by the shoulders and was intent on a conversation with the child. Elizabeth reached for her baby. “Here, let me take her now. I would feel awful if she wet you.”
Arden stood and came over to where Amy and Elizabeth stood. “I want you to go lie down, Elizabeth. Doctor's orders. I will chop some wood for your fire.”
“And I will put something together for your dinner,” Amy added with enthusiasm. “Maybe Jenny can help me.” Jenny nodded.
“Oh, no. I can't have Your Graces doing that! It would not be proper…”
“Now, Elizabeth. Put the baby down for a rest and you do the same,” Arden said as he ushered her out of the kitchen and moved her into her bedroom. “It's a gift from us and we insist you rest. Be off with you and we shall get to know Jenny.”
Amy nodded her agreement. Elizabeth was tired and it was enough for her to decide to have a rest. It wasn't long before Amy heard a soft snore come from the bedroom where Elizabeth rested. Arden chopped enough wood for several days and stacked some by the fireplace and put the rest on the front porch.
Amy made a stew from a piece of venison she found in the kitchen. She added some seasoning and vegetables. She made some biscuits like she had made for her father in Boston. When Arden came in to the house he found his wife covered in flour and looking intently on the dough she had just rolled out. Jenny was cutting out round biscuits with a tin cup. Jenny had flour on her face and smiled her pleasure at being useful.
He had to smile at the domestic picture they made. They could have been mother and daughter he realized. Amy had a lot of talents he was unaware of, however, she was caring for her father so he should not be surprised that she could cook. The fragrances coming from the small kitchen were creating a hunger he hadn't thought he had. He washed up at a water pump outside. Once clean, he came inside to gather his wife.
“Jenny. We don't want to disturb your mother since she is resting peacefully. We must leave for our next call. Take care of your mother and baby sister, now,” Arden said as he stooped down to her eye level. The child nodded and Arden looked at his wife who was brushing the flour from her gown.
“The biscuits are ready to be cooked, Jenny. You did a good job helping. When you are ready for your dinner, everything will be set to cook,” Amy added as she brushed some flour from the child's face. Jenny smiled. “Good girl. I know you will be a great help to your mother.”
Arden helped Amy into the carriage and they started off for the next farm. Amy smiled at the experience of helping this nice family. Arden watched the changing expressions on her face. She was easy to read, this new wife of his. He understood her thoughts. It was hard to hold back his own smile. How simple pleasure could be.
“That was so kind of you to give Elizabeth a nice piece of furniture. It is obvious she is proud of it.”
Arden looked at his wife for a moment before commenting. “We sometimes don't appreciate what we have. Brightmore is full of furniture and under used things. The attic is crammed with cast off pieces that no one is using. My mother would redecorate and discard older pieces to the attic. Such a waste. Just that one piece will become a family heirloom for them. It seems such a little thing, actually…makes people's lives better.”
Amy looked at Arden with new admiration. “You are a good man, Arden Lambrick.”
The next few miles were slow. The ruts in the road were more severe and the carriage bounced and rocked around. Amy was facing forward in the carriage as was customary for a gentleman to insist upon and yet Arden could see the motion causing havoc on his wife.
“Watch the scenery out the window. It may help.” Amy nodded at his suggestion. The scenery was still lovely to watch. Rolling green hills and lush vegetation took her breath away. Soon they were driving up a driveway toward another cottage. It was not as well kept as the one belonging to the Summer family. Amy looked to Arden for his introduction of this family.
“This one is a difficult stop, I am afraid. They are not as well off as the last family. It is not because they don't have the same opportunities, but Joseph, the husband, drinks and does little to support his family. I stop to check on the wife and son mostly. I have tried to make their lives better. Joseph Dodd is a …not so pleasant a person. He is usually away when I visit. Probably under a tree drinking himself mindless. His wife and son always, without fail, have some wound or have had some unexplained accident. I suspect he beats them although they never admit to anything. There is always an excuse for how some injury happened.”
“That is terrible. What can we do?” Amy asked. She was leaning forward now on the cushioned seat, her motion sickness now forgotten. She was very much concerned and Arden smiled without humor.
“I am afraid, there is not much that can be done. The law doesn't seem to protect women in that way. Husbands have the right to beat their wives if they so choose. This is another one of my causes that gets me frustrated, and another one I speak of at Parliament that does me no good. Men are very fond of power unfortunately.”
“Do you treat their wounds? It must be difficult to just walk away knowing it will just happen again,” Amy said. She was riled up now, Arden could tell and he patted her hand. “It is so sad they cannot speak of it to you. They must be very much afraid of him.”
“And for good reason. He is a dangerous man. I punched Joseph in the face once and broke his nose when I found his wife beaten because he didn't like the meal she fixed. That was satisfying until I found myself setting his nose for him.” Amy laughed despite the subject. She had dimples that appeared when she laughed. He was taken aback by her beauty when she was happy. A rare sight so far, but he suddenly wanted to see more of that. Such fine reward for amusing her. “I will punch him again if I have to. I do have a temper, you know.”
Amy smiled at that. Shehad never seen Arden angry. He seemed sensitive and kind. She couldn't imagine Arden out of control and yet she was glad to know such a thing would anger him. They were of the same frame of mind on this.
“You must be very calm with this, Amy. Anything could set him off if he is there. I feel it is important to check on the boy and woman occasionally because Joseph won't call upon me to help them if he beats them. They will try to hide it and he will be angry if we ask about their health.” He looked to get her agreement and she nodded that she understood.
“Be very careful Arden. Joseph must dislike you for the way you punished him for his abuse of his family. He will be ready for a fight, I think.” Arden smiled at her. It felt good to have a woman be concerned about him.
“I will be careful, sweeting.” They now were in front of the small cottage. The cottage was in need of paint and the front window was broken. There were boards across the broken glass as if that would suffice for the damage. No one came out to greet them and Amy was worried about how quiet it was. The footman handed Amy a basket to present to the family. Arden held up his hand to Amy to indicate she should wait until he knocked and checked that it was safe. She was anxious.
Arden was not fooling himself. He had seen his share of bullies and all the signs of their energy on others. He had faced it in Boston and he had lots of experience treating the victims of their abuses. The victims were usually women and children. They liked to take their frustrations out on the weaker. They got more satisfaction out of using their fists, but sometimes there were weapons like a leather belt or knife. These were violent people who usually could not be talked out of a fight. Arden knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked again.
“Rosie, …are you in there?” The door was unlatched and slowly opened on creaky rusty hinges. The latch had been broken long ago and was well on its way to disintegrating. A face peeked out. Shadows and dim light prevented a clear view of the woman who was hiding behind the door.
“It is a bad time…right now, Your Grace. I can't have visitors,” she whispered and started to close the door. Arden put his hand on the door and prevented it from closing.
“Is Joseph home? I need to speak to him.” This request was more than likely to get the location of the fiend.
“He's in back. But he don't want to see you…come back some other time.” Arden gave a hard push to the door opening it further so he could get in. “Please, I will be in trouble if you don't leave. I do this for your own safety, Your Grace.” Rosie was riddled with fear. Her hands trembled on the door handle.
“I understand. Are you well, Rosie?” Arden asked knowing that she would not be honest. She was afraid and rightfully so. Rosie looked down and nodded that she was well. She would not look Arden in the eye. Arden tipped her face up with his fingers lifting her chin. He searched her face for bruises, but just the yellow fading wounds from weeks ago remained. He searched her body with his eyes as if he could see beyond her tattered patched clothing. She was thin and frail. There was never enough to eat, even though he sent food regularly to them. Perhaps Joseph sold it for spirits. Arden looked around.
“Where is Jamie?” Arden was always thorough with his visits here. He wanted everyone accounted for, with the exception of Joseph. He could care less if the man shot himself in the head and was now decaying in the woods.
Rosie staggered back from Arden with not just fear in her eyes, but desperation. She shook her head in denial and groaned. Her hands were wringing the hell out of her worn muslin. When her eyes darted toward the small adjoining room, Arden took off to see what was wrong. He already knew what he would find.
As he crossed the threshold he saw the boy lying on the pallet next to the straw mattress in the center of the room. He was covered with a thin worn wool blanket that had seen better days. Arden squatted down on the floor and pulled the blanket down to find a badly beaten boy. His face was battered and swollen, both eyes swollen shut, his lip split and his body bloodied with multiple injuries. Arden did a quick assessment of his injuries by feeling his bones and moving some limbs to feel for breakage. Jamie moaned. Amy had worked her way into the house and looked in to see the boy and a gasp escaped her mouth and she covered it with her hand. There was no doubt that the boy had been beaten badly.
“Oh, no. What kind of monster would beat a child like that?” Amy gasped. Rosie was sobbing uncontrollably now. She was anxiously looking around and crying all the more for it.
“You must leave. If he finds you here, he will kill us for sure.” She pleaded as she watched Arden checking the boys pulse. “Joseph has such a temper. Please…,” she begged wringing her hands in the coarse fabric of her skirt. “I can care for Jamie. I always do.”
“But it needs to stop, Rosie, and you are not capable of that. Not by yourself. You need help.”
There was the sound of running and then the door burst open. A large angry man stood there holding a rifle with a crazed look on his face. Amy screamed when she saw this man covered in sweat, unshaven with his face red with rage. His hair was long and hung in dirty spikes that almost gave him a comical appearance, if not for his dangerous wild expression. His eyes narrowed as he looked to his wife with such anger as if it were all her fault.
Rosie backed up against the far wall cowering in fear. Arden stood up and faced the man. Amy had never seen Arden with such an angry face. Rage so pronounced that one would have to be an idiot to cross him now. Arden was tall and massive and looked as if he could kill the man with his bare hands. Joseph would be no challenge whatsoever against Arden's larger, more massive stature.
“Put down the rifle, Joseph,” Arden said in a firm controlled voice that booked no argument as he walked menacing toward the man. His face could have been chiseled from granite. Joseph was not intimidated which was frightening in itself. It was obvious he was not thinking logically. Arden had always found this trait one to be cautious with, since it seemed to be more a mental state and thus dangerous.
“Get out of my house. You ain't wanted here. You have no business here.” Joseph had red eyes that were watering and his face was a modeled pattern of pink, the obvious result of constant drinking of liquor. Joseph yelled at Arden in a slurred voice.
Arden looked behind Joseph to see his footman with a rifle of his own aimed at Joseph's back. The footman stood his ground and nodded to Arden that he had things under control. Before Joseph could lift his rifle and aim, Arden threw a punch that landed in the middle of Joseph's face. It was so full of force that Joseph stumbled backwards. Arden followed him down and hit again, this time to the stomach knocking the wind out of or him. Arden looked at the footman.
“Watch him.” The footman nodded while Arden went back into the room where the boy lay unconscious. He leaned down where the boy was and gently wrapped the wool blanket around him and picked him up in his arms. He didn't weigh much and was small for his ten years. He was not eating regularly or well which made Arden swear. He looked over to where Rosie was cowered against the wall.
“Get your things, Rosie. You and the lad are coming with me. He won't hurt you anymore.”
She seemed paralyzed with shock and indecision as she looked at her husband moaning on the floor with a rifle pointed at his head by the footman. “Now, Rosie. You are under my protection. Get in the carriage. You won't survive another beating by this animal.” She nodded. After all it was an order. Amy helped her gather a few things and put them in a sack. “You won't be coming back so get anything you need from here.”
He looked down at Joseph who had recovered from the punch in his stomach. His rifle had been removed by the footman and he lay on the floor touching his face for injury and wiping some blood that was dripping from his split lip.
“I ought to beat you like you beat your son, you sorry excuse for a human being.”
“I'll kill you for this,” Joseph whispered the promise with determination.
“You can certainly try. At least you would be picking a fight with an adult and not a child. I will employ your wife and son at my home. You will leave my property now. You have never fulfilled the contract for this property. I have only allowed you to stay for the sake of your family.” With that, Arden turned and walked out. He looked at the footman and said, “Keep him covered until I see that everyone is in the carriage. Then watch as you remove yourself.”
The carriage started the journey back with two unexpected guests sitting across from Arden and Amy. The child was barely conscious wrapped in the thin wool blanket with his mother feeling his forehead and softly speaking to him. She looked up at Arden nervously.
“What are we to do now?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I am so afraid.”
“What can you do Rosie? Cook, sew, clean? You may work for me. I pay a fair wage. You live in my home and will be well fed. One day off a week.” Arden looked expectantly at Rosie waiting for some response. “No one will beat you or your son again.”
Rosie started to cry. “I can't thank you enough Your Grace. What about my boy? I can keep him with me?”
“First we will tend his wounds and let him heal. He needs rest and some good hardy meals. Does he like horses? Perhaps he would like to help in my stable.”
“He loves horses and I know he would love to learn more about caring for them. You are so good to do this for us,” she sobbed.
Amy watched Arden as he comforted the pair across from them. She was proud of his actions and proud to be his wife. He cared deeply about others as she did. She would not have been able to sleep if they had left the pair in the hands of that brute. She watched as Rosie dried her eyes and held her son close to her.
“How is Jamie, Arden?” Amy asked softly. He turned to his wife and his face softened.
“He will recover. I always worry for internal bleeding when a person is used as a punching bag. It would evidentially do permanent damage if they were left in Joseph's care.”
“He seemed very angry. Do you think he will just leave?” Amy asked.
“No. He will be trouble. That is for certain.”