Mara: A Georgian Romance

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Mara: A Georgian Romance Page 5

by Barbara T. Cerny


  “Why can’t I ride straddling the horse like you do?” Mara asked Calvin one day, as they were saddling up to ride around the estate.

  “Cause you’re a lady, and ladies ride sidesaddle.”

  “That’s a dumb answer. Sidesaddle is uncomfortable and hard. I think I should be able to ride straddling the horse.” Mara hated sidesaddles, and hated being a lady even more.

  “And just how do you think ye’d look with your skirt all over the place showing off your bloomers riding like a man?” Calvin cocked an eyebrow at the eleven-year-old Mara.

  “Free.”

  “That don’t make no sense to me. You be free already. Jake and me be the slaves around here!”

  Mara shrugged her shoulders, knowing she would not win this battle with Calvin.

  As they rode out around the estate, Mara stopped Jake, letting Calvin go ahead.

  “Trade me horses.”

  “Huh?”

  “Trade me horses!”

  “What? And make me ride sidesaddle? No way!”

  “Why? You make me ride sidesaddle all the time.”

  “But you’re a girl. You’re supposed to ride sidesaddle.”

  “I hate it. Give me your horse!”

  They sat there on Python and Hebe, staring each other down—the tall, lanky stable boy and the fat little mistress of the manor.

  She won.

  With a huff, Jake dismounted Python, and reached up to help Mara off Hebe.

  “I’m not helping you up. You want to ride in a man’s saddle, then put yourself into it.”

  She grabbed the reins from his hand, giving him a dirty look. For years, she had watched men mount horses. It didn’t look too hard. However, Mara realized immediately that she wasn’t tall enough to put her foot in the stirrup to even start the process. She needed a mounting block. She turned around to ask Jake for help, only to find he’d already mounted Hebe and followed Calvin, uncomfortably sitting astride, trying to keep himself from being impaled on the horn, taking out the family jewels.

  “Fine!” she yelled after him. “Fine,” she muttered to no one in particular.

  She looked around the trees for a stump, big rock, or anything else she could use as a mounting block. She spotted a stump up ahead, and walked Python over to it. She then pulled Python up to the stump, climbed on top, and put her foot in the stirrup. Grabbing the horn, she pulled herself up and over, swinging her leg just like she had seen the men do a thousand times. “So there!” she yelled after Jake.

  Mara moved around a bit in the saddle, not used to the feel of the saddle between her thighs. Suddenly, she realized her feet were not in the stirrups. Jake stood a good ten inches taller than she, and he was mostly legs. She’d never reach those stirrups.

  “Damn him,” she muttered under her breath, knowing her mother would be mortified if she heard her daughter swear. Spending time with the orphan boys had given her a more colorful lingual education than Miss Perkins could provide.

  So with her feet dangling free, she clicked her tongue and urged Python forward, holding on with her thighs for dear life, and bravely putting on a game face for the stable hands now waiting for her up ahead.

  She walked Python up to them and stopped, staring them down as if to say, See? No big deal. Then she clicked her tongue and continued on her way.

  Jake and Calvin looked at each other, and could only smile and follow along.

  “She’s certainly got a mind o’ her own!”

  Jake watched the proud girl ride away, and had to agree. “That she does, Calvin. That she does.”

  Of course she couldn’t walk straight the next day, but she wasn’t about to let them know that. But from then on, Jake put a man’s saddle on Hebe, the stirrups properly adjusted for Mara’s short, fat legs, and they rode together in happiness.

  Even in the country, Mara insisted on continuing Alvin and Jake’s lessons. After dinner every evening, the boys met her in the nursery and, surrounded by the toys of childhood, they practiced reading and writing and arithmetic.

  *****

  One day, as Mara walked to the stables, her cousin Oakley, five years her senior, saw her and called out, “Hey, fatso. When you going to lose all that weight and stop being such a cow? You’re an embarrassment to the family.”

  Alvin was pulling weeds in front of the house, and heard Oakley’s words.

  “Well, at least being extra big ain’t as bad as being extra stupid.”

  Oakley turned around to see who had just insulted him. Horrified, Alvin realized he had just spoken his thoughts out loud. He dropped his trowel, and ran like the wind around the side of the house. Oakley gave chase.

  Mortified, Mara ran to the stables, screaming for help. Calvin, Jake, and one of the estate’s stable hands, Ike, came running out.

  “Oakley’s gonna kill him! Stop him!”

  Calvin grabbed Mara by the shoulders. “Who, what, where?”

  “Alvin just called Oakley stupid, and ran around the house. Oakley is chasing him!”

  Calvin pointed around the left. “Ike, go that way. Jake ye’re with me.” And they followed Alvin and Oakley’s trail around the house.

  It didn’t take them long to find the two boys, the larger sixteen-year old and the skinny twelve-year old, tussling in the back yard. Oakley had Alvin pinned on the ground, and had just punched him in the chin. But Alvin wasn’t down and out yet. Years on the street had taught him a thing or two about surviving a fight. He had a hold of Oakley’s other wrist, and twisted it brutally just as Oakley drew back to hit him again.

  “Owwwwwwwwwww,” howled Oakley, as he rolled off Alvin. The younger boy quickly popped up and was about to deliver a vicious kick when Calvin caught him from behind, lifting him in the air.

  “Enough, you two! Enough!”

  Oakley stood up to lunge at the now-trapped Alvin; Jake tackled him from the side. Ike went after Jake to keep the boy from also diving into the fray. Between the three of them, they finally managed to separate Oakley and Alvin.

  Calvin put Alvin down again, holding him tight around the chest with his sinewy arm.

  By this time, Mara had come trotting up, puffing heavily from the exertion.

  Oakley tried to pull away from Ike and Jake, who each had a hold of one of his arms. “That no good son of a bitch called me stupid!”

  “Well, that’s because you are!” yelled Alvin, also straining to break free.

  “How dare you insult me, the son of the viscount!”

  “And how dare you insult Miss Mara, the granddaughter o’ a viscount!”

  “Well, she is fat! I am just telling the truth!”

  “She is also the nicest person in this family, so you have no need to be calling her fat!”

  “Boys, BOYS!” yelled Calvin, trying to keep them from screaming at each other. “This stops here and now! Lord Oakley, I suggest you stop insulting your cousin. And you, young man,” he gave Alvin a good shake, “had better learn your manners and position!” With his arm still around Alvin’s waist, Calvin half carried, half dragged the kicking boy off toward the stables, thinking a dunking in the horses’ trough would cool him off.

  Oakley shook Ike off him, but had a harder time shaking off Jake. Jake squeezed his arm tighter and leaned in close. “I hear you ever call her fat again and I will rip you apart limb from limb.” The low, threatening tone of Jake’s voice caught Oakley by surprise, and frightened him a little. Jake threw down Oakley’s arm and walked over to Mara.

  “Come, Miss Mara. I will take you riding.” Mara took his arm and, before walking away from her cousin, turned around and stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Master Oakley,” started Ike, “best if you—”

  “Oh, shut up!” snapped Oakley, as he stomped off toward the house in a huff. Ike shrugged his shoulders and followed the others back to the stables.

  Calvin arrived back at the stables with a still belligerent and shouting Alvin tucked under one arm. He promptly threw the lad into the trough, hop
ing the cold water would cool off his temper.

  “Are you daft, you idiot? Do you realize that boy could get you fired in an instant? What the hell did you think you were doin’?”

  Alvin sputtered, and tried to pull himself up out of the water. “That no good son o’ a bitch needs to learn to keep his yap shut!”

  Calvin pushed Alvin back into the trough. “NO! you need to learn to keep your stinking yap shut! you wanna be back on the streets o’ London by morning? That kinda behavior will get you fired, you little arse. And you best learn not to talk back to me, either! you got that, mister?”

  Alvin finally decided it was wiser to comply. “Yes, sir,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Whaddya say, boy?”

  “Yes, sir!” shouted Alvin.

  Calvin stomped off, incredibly angry at the boy for forgetting his place. He knew the master would be talking to him by nightfall.

  Jake, Ike, and Mara had arrived, and stood silently watching Calvin put Alvin in his place. Once Calvin walked off, Ike followed, leaving the three children to their own devices. Jake put out his hand to Alvin to help him out of the trough.

  “Shit heads. They all be shit heads.”

  “El, be quiet. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

  Mara finally spoke up, and threw her arms around the wet boy. “I think you are brave and gallant. Thank you. Thank you for defending me.”

  Alvin put his arms around Mara to hug her back, soaking her through. He kissed her forehead, and gave Jake a sideways grin. “Angel, that almost makes it worth it.”

  “Hey, man. You had better find some dry clothes. Mara’s will probably dry out as we ride. And if I were you, Al, I’d hide out in the bushes for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of the summer. The last thing I want is to see you on the receiving end of a whip.”

  “Blimey. You think that arse is gonna get me whipped?”

  Jake shrugged his shoulders. “The lord whipped me for far less.”

  Mara realized the danger Alvin was in, and decided she had better talk to her father and uncle before Oakley did. Neither was home at the moment, but all hell could break loose when they arrived.

  After her daily ride, Mara sat on the stoop of the house and waited for the men to arrive home.

  As they pulled up in the phaeton just before dinner, she ran up to meet them.

  “Father, Uncle Cecil. How was your day?” she asked politely, giving a deep curtsey.

  Her father looked at his daughter in puzzlement. She never greeted him. What was this about?

  “Fine, Mara, just fine,” boomed her uncle, giving her a deep bow back.

  “Father, Uncle Cecil. May I ask a question?”

  “Of course,” the viscount replied. He stood in front of her, hands on hips, with a smile on his face.

  “If a woman is insulted, should a man stand up for her?”

  “Well, of course, my girl, of course! It is a man’s duty to protect the honor of a woman.”

  “Any man or any woman, even if they aren’t in the peerage or related?”

  “I am sure that even commoners want to protect their women from insult. After all, men must protect the weaker sex, whether they are related to them or not.”

  Lord Markham quickly became impatient with this exchange, and cut in. “Why are you asking all these silly questions?”

  “Father,” Mara paused, wanting to phrase her words carefully. “Today Oakley insulted me by calling me fatso, and a cow, and an embarrassment to the family.” She turned red repeating the words, and bowed her head, as she continued. “And when one of the gardeners who overheard the insults tried to defend my honor, Oakley started a fist fight with him. I thought it was gallant and brave for the gardener to come to my aid, but I don’t think Oakley saw it that way.”

  Markham became very angry, not at Oakley but at the servant. “Do I have to whip that Abbot again?”

  “Father, it wasn’t Abbot, it was our apprentice gardener, Alvin Bitters. He’s the one who valiantly came to my defense. Talk to Ike and Calvin, too. They will confirm that I am telling the truth.”

  The viscount put his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for telling us your side of the story, Mara. Oakley should never have said those horrible things to you. We’ll see what we can do. Now run along.”

  As soon as she walked out of earshot, Markham turned to his brother. “I’d find out Oakley’s side of the story before making any decisions. Mara’s too close to the servants for her own good. She protects them ferociously, whether they need protection or not. She stopped me from whipping the stable hand who stole from Edwin by telling me she took the items herself. I still don’t know if I believe her.”

  “They’re all just children, Evelyn, and boys will be boys. However, Oakley shouldn’t be saying those things to Mara. But we don’t need our servants fist fighting with our children, either. Let’s hear Oakley’s side before we pass judgment.”

  Mara had rationally stated her case, with calm conviction. Oakley, on the other hand, told his side of the story in a profanity-laced rant. He denied insulting Mara, stating that Alvin had insulted him for no reason. Markham wanted to whip the gardener, but the viscount decided to first talk to Ike and Calvin to hear their side of the story. He questioned them separately, and each confirmed that Oakley admitted to calling Mara fat.

  Convinced that Oakley had lied about not insulting Mara, the viscount decided to lay the matter to rest. Markham was furious, but eventually the storm settled, and the summer continued on without further incident.

  And from then on, year after year, Jake, Alvin and Mara did their best to avoid the male Markham cousins to keep the peace at the estate.

  Chapter 8

  As time went by, Jake and Alvin came to trust the adults around them, and began to tell them about life at the orphanage. The servants were shocked to learn about the extreme cruelty of Percy Snellings, the director, and the horrible life the orphans had to endure. About a year after they were hired, the boys knew they had to intervene for Pete and Luke, who were on the cusp of being sold to the highest bidder.

  “Calvin?”

  The older man looked up from cleaning one of the horse’s hooves, and saw Jake and Alvin standing there.

  Oh, oh. Looks like trouble, he thought.

  “We need to ask you a great favor.”

  Yup. Definitely trouble. “What is it?”

  Jake didn’t know how to broach the subject of finding work for Luke and Pete. “Um…we need more jobs.”

  “Well, you could start by cleaning out the tack boxes, and determining what is still useful and what needs to be repaired or replaced. And I am sure the garden isn’t completely weed-free, Mr. Bitters.” Calvin always had a list of a hundred jobs to do around the estate. What was that youngster talking about?

  “No, no. I mean, sure, yes, I can do that. But I am not talking about me and Al.” Calvin looked up again, now really wondering what the boys were up to. “Luke and Pete need apprenticeships that won’t kill them, and won’t put any money in Snellings’ pockets, either.”

  “Ah. So I am to come to the rescue once again, am I? You two ain’t enough? I gotta save everyone else, too?” But Calvin wasn’t really angry. He had known this request would come eventually, as Jake and Alvin were very passionate about their friends and wanting to save them from that terrible orphanage.

  Alvin’s concern showed in his face. “Mr. Calvin, the situation is very grave, you see. They is growin’ to the age where Snellings will sell them out in an instant, and we dinna want them hurt since they be our friends.” Calvin rolled his eyes. That boy was too sincere for his own good.

  “Now Al, I dinna say I was not gonna help! Don’t get your hackles all ruffled, boy!”

  Jake and Alvin stood there with huge grins on their faces. Calvin rolled his eyes again. Why couldn’t he ever say no to these two? He swore he was becoming as silly as an old woman when it came to his boys. His boys! Listen to him. Now he was thinking of them as his
boys. What was he coming to?

  He sighed a deep sigh. “I’ll do what I can. Bring them by so I can see them proper.” Alvin ran over and gave Calvin a big hug, nearly knocking the man off his feet. “Okay, okay, out with you now! Out!” Alvin ran out, leaving Jake staring at Calvin with that same wide grin on his face. “You too! Get to work on those tack boxes!”

  “Yes, sir!” Jake plopped down by the nearest box, and happily whistled as he started his task.

  *****

  Calvin stuck to his word. He, along with Rory and Basil, scoured the neighborhood, looking for appropriate work for Pete and Luke. Based on the current size of Pete’s wrists, hands, and feet, they knew he would grow up to be a big man, and could handle real labor. However, Luke presented a problem as he was a true runt, and not sturdy enough for physical labor which would probably kill him.

  They spent the next few weeks talking to every shop owner and businessman or woman within a ten-block area of the estate. Surprisingly, they found work for twelve-year-old Luke first, in a cobbler shop. Luke would learn to make boots and shoes, a profession that didn’t depend on a man’s size. And that suited Luke just fine. The math skills he had acquired would come in handy. The cobbler needed someone who knew how to work numbers while measuring feet, and he was very pleased with his new apprentice.

  Of course, Snellings was livid when Luke disappeared one day. After Jake had disappeared, he called the constabulary to report Jake’s assault on him. Snellings’ nose was still crooked because of that punch. But with Luke, he didn’t think a call to the constabulary was worth the trouble.

  Finding a job for Pete turned out to be more problematic. But two weeks after the men started the search, they met with success ten blocks away. A local smithy needed a strong young man to help out with the billows and the heavy lifting. So Pete skipped off to the blacksmith’s, happy to be free of the orphanage.

  Snellings fumed. Two runaways in a few days! He decided to beat a few more snotty brats over the course of the next week just to make sure no one else put ideas in their heads about running away. Little did he know his days as the director of the Queen’s Children’s Home were numbered.

 

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