"I was making a mental list."
He tilted his head. "Of?"
Merrie giggled, and he leaned down to kiss her dimples. "Of the fiercest of the staff here."
His brows rose, brown eyes frowning down at her. "You have nothing better to do?"
"No—listen, Francis. I am trying to figure out a way to get them to like me. Miss Constance is at the top. And I think she hates me the most."
"Come here, little brat." He took her hand and pulled her up and into his lap. "No, be still, child." His arm held her firmly. "Miss Constance does not hate you. She is fierce with everyone. Including me, at times. She has been here since long before I was born and has caught me with my hand in the cookie jar more times than I care to remember."
"Were you afraid of her?"
"No. She saved my hide a time or two, as well. The person I was afraid of—and still am—is Miss Hazel, Geoffrey's housekeeper at Pembroke. We are both thirty-two now and she still eyes us with suspicion. But back to Miss Constance. She still gives me this evil eye sometimes. And I swear, when she does that I feel like I am ten-years-old again."
"You have a guilty conscience, then." She grinned.
"Perhaps. Who is next on your list, my girl?"
"Glennie. Your nurse."
"Oh, good old Glennie. She's a saint for putting up with me, Merrie. When I was a boy, I was a hellion, worse than Geoffrey, but not worse than Charles."
She frowned. "I do not remember you as a boy."
He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. "That is because you were not born yet, brat." He grinned.
"Yes. Well, there is that. And next is Wendell."
"My butler? At one time, I thought him fierce, too. Then he saved my hide once by covering for me, and he was my hero after that."
They continued to go down the list she had made, and as Francis told her stories about each member of the staff, she began to relax, feeling as if she had gotten to know each of them a little.
"Well," she said thoughtfully, after they finished. "Perhaps I just need to get to know them better. Maybe they will not poison me after all."
His expression became incredulous. "You thought they would poison you?" His voice rose.
"Shh! I'm sure they would not. I just do not—" She threw up her hands. "Francis, I just do not know how to approach them—and everything I seem to do is wrong."
"Would you like my advice?" A brow rose. "Let me rephrase that. Would you listen to my advice, if I gave it?"
She looked up. "Of course I would, sir!"
"Hmm. We shall see. All right, my little brat. My advice? Be. Yourself."
She frowned. "I think I preferred 'innocent.' Is that all, sir? Be myself?"
"Yes. That is all the advice you need. Now. It is time to go down for tea. Miss Constance will not appreciate it if we are late, brat. You shall have to re-earn the title of 'innocent.'"
She scowled, and he smacked her bottom.
"Behave, brat."
THE NEXT SCHOOL, they reached early the next morning. Francis took her hand, leading her up toward the hill where the schoolhouse lay overlooking the valley below.
"We shall have to make this one fast, little love; we are going to try to get to the other one today. "If we do not reach the second school before lunch, any of the children in need might go hungry through it. That is another reason to change up the times we visit. At this school, we shall meet Miss Eleanor Jones. You will likely not know her; she has taught here only three years. She has one or two students that she brings lunches for every day. I do the same with her."
"Provide extra to cover the costs…" Merrie said thoughtfully, nodding.
"It is only right."
They entered, quietly. The children were in the process of a spelling bee, about to be dismissed for recess, and she and Francis waited until it was over before meeting all of the children one by one. Merrie was able to immediately identify the two children who were there that day who did not look well.
The baskets, they were able to pass along to Miss Jones, who put them aside. "I take note of which students come without lunches in the morning, and when they are outside at recess, I add the lunch packets to the desks of those students. So when lunchtime comes, they each have one when they go outside."
Merrie was impressed. "The children all seem very bright. And you seem to enjoy teaching them."
"They are. And they really love to learn. These children do not always come from a good situation. We have two new ones this week."
"I noticed. Tell me about them." Francis was frowning now. "Tell me how Merrie and I can help..."
When they were on their way again, Francis began to explain the details of the next school.
He frowned and hesitated for a moment. Merrie eyed him, aware that he was weighing his words carefully. "As far as his qualifications, Merriweather, Mr. Moreton is more qualified than most. But he rather reminds me of a little banty rooster. He struts about the classroom with his cane, waving it in the air. I have spoken to him about that. It scares the children. And frightened children do not learn well."
"I suppose," she said thoughtfully. "It would be rude of me to say I already do not like him."
He grinned. "I cannot say I do either, little brat. However, he has gotten an offer to go back east recently, and I am hoping he will take it. I shall be more careful regarding my next choice of teachers. I have interviewed a female teacher; she was to attempt to come this week, but may not make it until next. Her name is Cinderella Barton. So, on our next trip, we shall go prior to lunch and stay afterward for a while, to observe her. And Merriweather…" He leaned forward, his brown eyes intent. "This is the closest school to Strasburg. Some of these children are here from families on the other side of Strasburg and are extremely poor. They seldom are able to bring a lunch, and Mr. Moreton is not the kind of man to bring extra lunches for those children in need."
Merrie was scowling now. "I like him even less. How can he expect good grades from them if they are hungry and frightened?"
"Exactly."
"Pray, sir. What can be done about the wild boar at the first school?"
"I have already sent Elias to take care of it, before the time the children arrive. I cannot guarantee it will not happen again, however. But at least the children should be able to go outside to eat for a few days." He took her hands in his and looked down. "Now. Maintain silence, my little girl."
The carriage had stopped. Merrie looked out the window.
"Down you go, Merrie. Quietly."
She looked around, realizing they were still a good bit away from the schoolhouse. Silently, they approached. As they did, however, they heard a child cry out in anguish. Merrie began, suddenly, to run toward the door, but Francis was ahead of her.
He flung open the door. Mr. Moreton had a small girl by the collar. Her pantaloons were lowered, and the cane in the air was ready for another strike. Bruises were forming across her naked bottom.
"Let her go!" Francis' booming voice pierced the air.
Mr. Moreton's arm froze in mid-air. Frowning, he lowered her and let go.
"Go to your seat, Lucy Grace. And do not let me catch you falling asleep again."
The small girl, trying desperately not to cry, looked at Merrie and Francis and pulled up her pantaloons quickly, hurrying to her seat. Her little face was full of dismay and humiliation. And something else.
She looked hungry.
Merrie's heart ached for the little child; at the same time, anger burned, fiercely. Falling asleep was a crime which warranted being caned by the teacher with her bottom bared before the whole class? How dare he!
Francis set the baskets down inside the door and moved up beside Merrie. But Mr. Moreton was staring at her. She stared back, her gaze intensely accusatory.
Finally, the teacher addressed the class. "You may go to lunch. Class will be dismissed for a half hour. I shall ring the bell at noon. He watched each of them carefully as they rose from their seats one at a
time and went outside; the children on the front row were the last to rise. When Mr. Moreton spoke again, it was to the small girl.
"Lucy Grace. You shall go and stand in the corner. You shall not have lunch today."
"No!" Merrie cried out, before she could stop herself. She ran toward the door and reached down into the basket, pulling out a cloth with bread, cheese, and ham inside and pushed it into the child's hand. "Take this outside and eat with the other children, sweet girl." She looked straight at Mr. Moreton as she spoke, "And enjoy it."
Lucy looked from Merrie to Mr. Moreton, frightened. Francis approached her and knelt down, resting a hand on her shoulder. "It is all right, Lucy Grace. You may go eat now, with the other children. And if there are any other children outside without lunch today, please tell them to wait outside the door, and we will pass out lunches to them, as well."
The little girl nodded and quickly disappeared outside.
Mr. Moreton turned on Merrie. "You are late, Miss Barton! You were supposed to arrive on Monday—and the first thing you shall learn is to never ever question my judgment regarding a student again! Or I shall bend you over the desk and use the cane on you in front of the class. I shall have your respect—and hers!"
Francis moved quickly forward to intervene, but Merrie had moved closer and was nearly in Mr. Moreton's face now. He put an arm across her shoulders and moved her back a step, but she did not seem to notice. She was even more furious, now.
"I believe, Mr. Moreton, that I shall question your judgment any time I choose. And what makes you think that a child who is hungry and frightened out of her wits will respect you—and be able to learn from you? When children are hungry, their minds are much more apt to wander; they are more tired and they fall asleep easily, because they have no energy."
Francis had placed a firm hand on her shoulder, but she continued. "You do not have her respect, Mr. Moreton; all you have is her fear. And that is not an ingredient for a good education—" She halted now—not because of Francis' hold on her shoulder, but because she had looked across the room through the window and saw several children up on the hill, staring in, their mouths open.
Mr. Moreton's eyes had narrowed. He took a step purposely toward Merrie, cane in hand and furious. Realizing that Francis had stepped in between them, he stopped. But his voice remained just as angry. "And just what, young lady, gives you the right, as a new teacher, to question my authority in my own classroom?"
Merrie tilted her head. "Oh, but I am not a teacher, Mr. Moreton."
He stared at her blankly and then glanced up at Francis.
Francis Adams, towering over him, spoke, his deep voice finally interrupting the silence, "I believe, Mr. Moreton, it is time to introduce my wife, Lady Merriweather Adams."
Mr. Moreton's jaw dropped, momentarily. He gave her an abrupt nod, which she returned, a bit more gracefully, but no less determined.
"And now, my little warrior," Francis said as he leaned down. He spoke into her ear and, with a firm nudge, motioned her toward the door. "I believe that there may be children lined up outside, awaiting lunches."
"Of course, sir. I shall be delighted to pass them out." She returned the stony gaze that Mr. Moreton wore and walked toward the door. Outside, there were six children on the steps with no lunches, and she sat down, opening the basket.
"Thank you, Miss—" the first child said politely.
"Adams," she said as she smiled warmly at him. His eyes widened, and his smile grew bigger.
Each child sat down, not far away. A few of them wandered over and sat down by the oak tree not far from the school. She did not see Lucy Grace. She turned to the one nearest. "Does Mr. Moreton often cane students in front of the class?"
The child nodded. "Mostly, Lucy Grace," he said. "She is little and he don't like her much."
"Why does he not like her?"
"Sometimes, she falls asleep," came from another little boy. "Her mama died. There's three little sisters at home, one little brother... Her pa works in the mines. Lucy cooks and cleans and takes care of everybody…"
"I see…"
"But Lucy Grace's mama wanted her to go to school. She said it was 'portant.'"
Merrie paused, listening. She could hear voices from inside the classroom. Francis' was growing louder. She saw the children looking toward the building. Moving down the steps, she called out to them.
"Everyone? Miss Constance, from home, sent treats for you! As soon as you finish your lunch, please come and get one." She watched as the children approached, one by one. But still, she did not see Lucy Grace. She could still hear Francis' voice; it was softer now. And she could hear an occasional sentence voiced by Mr. Moreton.
Finally, as the children began moving back to line up outside the door, a little figure stepped out from behind a tree and began following them. It was Lucy Grace.
Merrie moved out to meet her. "Lucy Grace," she said softly. "Here, eat this quickly, so it is all gone before you get back into class. All right?"
"Thank you, ma'am," she whispered softly. Her eyes were shining, but instead of eating it, she stuffed the cookie into her pocket.
"Are you not going to eat it?" Merrie asked, curiously.
But Lucy Grace shook her head. "I shall take it home to my sisters and my brother."
Merrie looked down into her basket. There were more than half a dozen shortbread cookies left in it. "Lucy Grace," she said softly. "I shall send this basket home with you, to share with them. There are enough treats left for each of you to get a whole one. But you must promise to eat one too, all right?"
Lucy Grace looked up, unsure what to say. Finally, she nodded, and Merrie patted her shoulder and ran to the front of the line, letting herself back inside and closing the door behind her. She approached Mr. Moreton. He and Francis had both stopped speaking when she approached.
"Mr. Moreton." She forced herself to keep her voice quiet. "Were you aware that Lucy Grace's mother died, and she takes care of three baby sisters and one little brother all on her own when she is not at school? She does the cooking, cleaning—keeping the fire going—everything, while her father works in the mines. She comes to school only because it was her mother's wish before she died that Lucy Grace have an education." She waited for his response.
Blankly, Mr. Moreton stared back at her. Finally, he shook his head.
"I knew her mother died," he said. "I was not aware of the rest,"
"She falls asleep," Merrie continued. "Because she is so exhausted from caring for them. But she forces herself to come, in spite of how tired she is." Merrie's shoulders were stiff, and Francis put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"When I gave her a treat from the basket, she put it in her pocket," her voice had grown soft now. "And when I asked her if she was going to eat it, she said she was taking it home to give to her sisters and her little brother. One cookie—her cookie. There are a few more in the basket. I am leaving it, Mr. Moreton, for her to take home with her. She shall, hopefully, get at least one out of it when she gets home."
His gaze, when he returned it, was different, somehow. "I shall see that she leaves for home with it," was all he said.
"Then I shall leave it in your hands, sir." She held it out, as if it were an olive branch.
Sheepishly, he met her eyes, taking it, and walked to Lucy Grace's desk, setting the basket beside it. "I do apologize, Lady Adams. I thought you were the new teacher, when you came in earlier. I—" He trailed into silence, and Merrie looked back at him, more tolerantly now.
"Mr. Moreton, these children are extremely important to Sir Francis and to me. Some of them have so little at home; but there is nothing more precious that can be given them than a good education. It is something that no one can ever take away from them. And you, sir, with your skills and your knowledge, have the ability to provide it. Please do not let them down."
Silence reigned in the room. Finally, he nodded. "It is time to resume class."
Merrie nodded and stepped asi
de, to stand by Francis against the wall.
Mr. Moreton moved toward the door, rang the bell and opened it as the students filed past him, one by one, toward their desks. He walked toward the front of the classroom and waited until they were seated. "And now," he said to them. "I shall call out the words for your spelling tablet. If you miss, write it down. I shall show you the correct spelling. Then you can take it home to work on it."
Francis and Merrie stood at the wall, watching the students as they attempted to spell the words he called out. Things seemed to have calmed down now. Merrie's face lit up when the children smiled; Francis could not help but notice it.
Finally, a half-hour later, he leaned down into her ear, whispering, "I believe it is time for us to go, my darling."
She nodded, and Mr. Moreton stopped, turning to the class. "Please tell Sir Francis and Lady Adams thank you for coming."
A chorus of thank yous followed...
Merrie smiled warmly at them. "Thank you, children."
But as she left, there was one little face, whose smile she thought she would never forget, as long as she lived...
Lucy Grace's smile had followed them all the way to the door.
SHE LEANED BACK and sighed inside the coach. Tears threatened, and Francis pulled her over into his lap.
"Shh-sh… It is all right, my little hellion," he said softly, into her ear. "Cry if you feel the need." He stroked her hair back from her face as the tears came. When they did, they came in great wailing sobs.
It was a long time before they died down. Francis was rocking her gently and whispered into her ear, "Sh-sh, my sweet little Merrie. Is it Lucy Grace you weep for? Or is it the injustice of all children who are mistreated…and hungry?"
She hiccupped and took a deep breath. A moment later, still leaning against his chest, she said softly, "It is many things, sir. It is the look of dismay that her little face held when she was making her way back to her seat, as if she were trapped and there was no way out… It is her situation, of having to care for four younger siblings and trying to honor her mother's wishes and feeling as if she can't do everything…but she must do everything… It is that the children there are being robbed of the chance to actually love to learn because they cannot see past their teacher…"
Merrie's Hero Page 6