The Reformer Read online

  “No. Ary… incorrigible. Not good. Sent to reformer to die,” she sobbed, looking away.

  He hesitated, noting how she referred to herself. He then stroked her white-blond hair as though she were a frightened animal. “Ary is good. And you will not die with this reformer. Shhh… lay down, child. Damn that woman,” Ryan growled, forcing the girl to place her feet up on the bench and stretch out on her side. He was livid. Horses and dogs should not be beaten, nor should children or women. Especially to the point of blooding! He shouted for the driver to be on his way and then encouraged Aryanna to drink the bitter liquid he held. She wrinkled her face and pushed it away.

  “Aryanna, drink. It is good,” he said firmly, using her full name to indicate his seriousness. He pushed it towards her lips.

  “No. Bad. Ary not want die yet,” she refused, tightened her mouth against the edge of the cup.

  He tapped her nose. “Drink. Now,” he ordered with a stern frown. Lip quivering and certain he was poisoning her, Aryanna shook her head. Rolling his eyes, Ryan sighed. “Look. It is good. I will drink.” He took a sip and could not prevent the wry face that followed. “It tastes horrid, but drink anyway.”

  Aryanna hid a tiny smile at his reaction. He had proven to her that it was not poison but agreed it was foul tasting. Determined to survive her upcoming ordeal, Aryanna felt it best to try to comply with her reformer’s requests. She reached for the cup and, taking a deep breath, swallowed the bitter contents without attempting to hide the screwing of her face. Ryan laughed, praising her, and she offered him a shy smile. He then pressed her back down on the bench, tucked the blanket gently around her slender frame, and prayed that she would sleep through the majority of their ride.

  * * *

  “Miss Woods? A word, please,” Henry said as the stiff-backed headmistress walked past his office. Eliza Woods paused, annoyed that he would distract her from her duties. She did not hide her irritation,

  “What is it, Henry? I have work to do.” The indifferent and casual way she addressed him irked him greatly. It was a deliberate show of disrespect and too familiar to be proper. Yes, this one would benefit from a sound caning too. Alas, he was not in a position to do so. But he would love to hear her screams…

  “Your work will wait a few moments. Come in and have a seat.” Henry pulled out a chair for her, waiting as she sat, and then took his own seat across the desk from her, “We have a problem. Lord Ryan is angry.”

  “His Lordship is always angry about something irrelevant. Last week, he complained that the children were not getting enough fresh air and should be allowed to run. Run! Would you even consider such a proposal? They need discipline, not playtime!”

  “While I respect your education in instruction and the training of young minds, we must remember that Lord Ryan and his father, the Earl, are the primary financial supporters of this academy. Without them, both you and I are without employment.”

  “He is a young, coddled son of a wealthy banker. And he’s a Modernist!” She shuddered as the dreaded term came from her lips. “He cares not for social standing, reputation, or his class. He is no better than the American whom he studied under. Further, he knows nothing about—”

  “Lord Ryan has been called upon by the Crown, no less, to give opinion in this new venture our beloved King Edward has shown interest in. The Remington’s methods have been published both here and in the British colonies worldwide. Not only is Lord Ryan’s expertise greatly admired and respected by the Crown, but his father is a long time and personal acquaintance of the present monarchy. Lord Remington’s reputation in this field goes unchallenged, and he tutored his son. These men are vital to our institution and are sanctioned by Parliament. Would you have the audacity to defy your King and country, Miss Woods?”

  Eliza snorted. Her opinion of the present ruler and his flamboyant indiscretions was low and, in her view, he was not worthy of her regard or respect. “So why are you telling me this? It makes no difference to me,” came the haughty response.

  “Lord Ryan has demanded that I discharge you for blooding the Russian girl.”

  “He has no right! That brat was deliberately rude and used ill language in my classroom!”

  “Unfortunately, he has reminded me that he has every right. Should he take his argument before the Board of Regents, he will assuredly have both of us replaced.”

  Eliza’s stern, rigid demeanor dissolved before his eyes as she began to plead with him to stop the terrible injustice being inflicted upon her. He shook his head, writing something on a piece of paper. “I am sorry, but it has been decided. You will pack your things and leave these premises immediately. Here is a note of payment. Go down to the treasury and ask them to settle your wages.”

  “But I have nowhere to go. This place is my home, and this,” she held up the note and shook it in his face, “won’t even rent a room for me. At best, I could teach in a workhouse. But without recommendations, I will end up as a millworker like… like a commoner! I am educated and from a well-to-do family!”

  “You might consider returning to your family or perhaps staying with a relative. I truly am sorry, Miss Woods, but…”

  “Returning to my father's home is not an option for me, and I would die before venturing to any of my brother’s homes,” Eliza snapped. “You are the headmaster! Surely there is something you can do! Perhaps talk with Lord Remington?”

  “Lord Ryan made a sworn promise that if you were still here when he returned, he would personally apply the cane to you. Whether you believe that the degree of severity was warranted or not, blooding the girl caused him great distress. You are aware of how that young man holds true to his promises. He is not one to be easily swayed. His father even less so,” Henry snarled, not mentioning the threat to his own hide.

  “I will take that chance, then. Those men do not frighten me in the least. When is he returning? I intend to stay in my position until I have opportunity to education them in the error of their ways.”

  “I don’t know. I assume after he gets the young lady settled and starts her on lessons. Are you certain you wish to risk his anger? You should be concerned and perhaps consider presenting a tad more respect. I remind you of his reputation…” Henry urged, more concerned for his future health and well-being. “The damage he can do to us… you…”

  “He rendered a man unconscious for beating a work horse to death, and because of his favor with the royal house, was not held accountable,” she spat. “I restate that I hold no fear for him. He must accept the fact that this child was not a horse! She is an incorrigible—”

  “Young woman who does not speak our language. You have very little to rely on to protect you here, Eliza,” he said, deliberately using her given name to unnerve her. “Even I have no authority over Lord Ryan or his father. The old man has been a reformer for this academy since its establishment, and his wife served as the headmistress.”

  “Yes, another foreigner. I am surprised they have not yet brought in a bloody American,” Eliza growled. She glared into his face. “Would you even help if you could?” she asked.

  Henry looked into her large brown eyes. She wore her long brown hair in a tight, severe bun with her plain black dress buttoned high to the neck and adorned with a simple brooch. It fell cleanly to the ground and had straight, snug sleeves that hid her wrists. Despite the fact she presented herself like an old spinster, the thirty-six-year-old women had soft, lovely cheekbones, a graceful figure, and a rosy mouth that rarely showed forth a smile. A mouth he sorely desired to kiss and a body he would love to fuck. He felt his member stir, imagining her screaming beneath him. But her attitude was deplorable and not worth the time to bring her to heel.

  “Yes, Miss Woods. If I could, I would help you. I am truly sorry.” His eyes did not hold the sincerity to match his words.

  “You are despicable,” Eliza hissed. Clenching her jaw, the woman stood proudly and left his office. He shook his head, lit his cigar once again, and for a brief momen
t, felt sympathy for the next pupil who crossed her path.

  * * *

  Aryanna suppressed a cry as the carriage launched off the ground after striking a rough portion of road. She clutched the side of the seat, disorientated as her eyes focused on the austere man seated across from her. She attempted to rise and froze as he pointed to her.

  “Stay there, Aryanna,” he ordered firmly. Seeing her eyes begin to tear, he reached over and touched her arm, “Good, Ary. Shhh. I’ll take care of you, dove. I won’t let anyone harm you again. I promise. Look,” he blew loudly around her, chasing away the “ghosts” and then wiping his hands with a look of satisfaction. Aryanna wrinkled her brow, confused by his gentleness. Reformers were said to be monsters, men who made the brutality of the headmistress appear like play. Perhaps this really was not her reformer? Was he taking her to the one who would change and mold her? Aryanna drew back from his touch, unwilling to accept the possibility that this sweet, gentle man would throw her to the wolf. But then, she did not have reason to trust any of these people who treated her as though she were less than a person.

  Ryan studied the girl’s expressions, reading the conflict on her face. He had become quite the expert on body language and had given many speeches to interested colleagues on the subject. Since he was a young man, Ryan had been exposed to the amazing transformations of difficult and misguided young women under his father’s firm, fair hand and his mother’s gentle love. His father, a strong follower of Freudian theory and psychology, had initiated Ryan’s interest by teaching his son to be aware of the moods and expressions of the young ladies within the household. The Lady Brigit, Ryan’s mother, taught him the benefits of gentleness and patience in conjunction with his father’s firm, no-nonsense approach to altering behavior. He deigned himself to follow in their footsteps.

  “Since we obviously have an issue with communication, I believe that must be the first thing we approach. Ary? What is my name?”

  Aryanna blinked at him. He repeated himself and smiled when she answered him, “Lord Ryan. Reformer?”

  “Yes! Good girl. Lord Ryan, and yes, I am a reformer.” Aryanna’s face paled again, and Ryan sighed, assuming that she had heard rumors about the process. Unfortunately, some were true. He patted her hand. “Don’t be afraid. Reformers are good.”

  Aryanna shook her head, looking away. Headmistress always referred to herself as Good Mistress Woods. The woman was not good—she was evil. Ryan observed her closely. She was definitely in conflict. Right now, he needed to instill trust. As he would approach a frightened animal, he picked up a sweet biscuit from the basket, dribbled honey over it, and slowly offered it to her with a soft smile.

  Deprived of dinner the night before because she did not hang her smock properly, and missing breakfast that morning because her lesson cabinet was not up to Headmistress’ standards (and which resulted in the word that she was beaten for using), Aryanna realized she was starving. Timidly, she accepted the morsel and waited for Ryan’s nod to bite into it.

  The soft, still-warm bread sweetened with fresh honey was ambrosia to her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the tiny bite, wanting it to last forever. Ryan gestured for her to eat, confused by her slowness. She clutched the roll and pulled it to her body, making him understand. He opened the basket to show her that it was filled with bread, cheese, and fruit. Her eyes widened. This was more food than she had seen at one sitting in over a year! Ryan slowly placed the basket in front of her and gestured.

  “Eat, Ary. Good food.”

  His heart sank again as the gaunt young woman began to devour the contents of the basket. Fearful she would sicken, he touched her shoulder, noting she pulled back again. He closed the basket and put it next to her. Her face relaxed considerably, and she tried to sit up, crying out in pain.

  Ryan shook his head. “We are almost home. Rest now. I’ll take care of you. I promise,” he said soothingly. And I will take care of the evil witch who did this to you, mark my words, was his silent promise.

  Chapter Two

  “Father! A word!” Ryan shouted, stomping unceremoniously into his parents’ home and tossing his hat and travel gloves on the side desk in the foyer, mindless of the cakes of mud that he left upon the pristinely polished marble floor. He ignored the flurry of servants behind him as they cleaned the mess he had left and ignored the butler as his coat was pulled from his back.

  “Ryan? My darling, is there a problem?” Lady Brigit asked, greeting her handsome son with a kiss on either cheek and then grabbing his arm to pull him towards the sitting room.

  “Where is Father? I need to speak with him immediately.”

  “I thought I heard you storm into the house, young man. Did you leave your manners at the door, along with half the mud from the estate? Greet your mother,” the Earl of Yarlshire said humorously, entering the room with a smile before delivering a crushing hug to his dour-faced son.

  Ryan dipped his head with a perfunctory, “Hello, Mother.” He turned to the Earl. “Father, there is an urgent matter that requires immediate discussion. The sow—”

  “Ryan, there is a lady present.”

  “I beg your pardon, Mother. The headmistress of the academy bloodied a student. So much that the evidence seeps through her gown.”

  “Mother Mary! That poor wee child!” Lady Brigit exclaimed, her bright green eyes widening with horror, “Where is she? Does she require a physician?”

  “I brought her home with me. She is sleeping in the carriage as we speak. I intend to remedy her condition myself,” Ryan announced, staring directly at both his parents and waiting for the protest.

  “You escorted a young woman home alone? Son, we already have enough neighbors talking about your lack of propriety in general public, but—”

  “She’s Russian, Father. An immigrant from Bloody Sunday who was brought here to train for service. She does not speak English. She was beaten because of her lack of education and her culture, not for her behavior.”

  His parents looked at one another in silence. The Lord Remington cleared his throat as he sat on a chair, considering the situation. His lady fought back tears.

  “Gerard?”

  “Yes, my dear?” Lord Remington looked up, holding his hand out for her and kissing it.

  “We cannot allow this to happen. It must stop.”

  “Yes, my sweet. It must. Ryan? What would you have us do?”

  Ryan smiled, comfortable in the direct display of love and affection his parents practiced. His mother had been an Irish immigrant and had spoken very little English when she had come here with her family. After her parents died of tuberculosis, Brigit had been placed in a warehouse sorting lace in the dead of winter. In an effort to warm herself, she had set fire to some papers in the sink in the women’s lavatory and watched, in horror, as the flames spread.

  She was sent to stand before the local magistrate to decide on her punishment. The man was kind and understanding, voicing his belief that she had not intentionally tried to burn down the factory, but rather had tried to warm herself. He called in the owner, the Earl of Yarlshire, who was not only a wealthy banker, but an old friend. Together they discussed Brigit's situation. The Earl's son, Gerard, had accompanied his father for the conference and suggested that he be permitted to try his hand at the new technique of reform in lieu of sending the young woman to prison. Brigit was called into the room, and her flaming red hair and sweet face immediately caught his eye. He repeated his desire, promising to hire a female assistant to be present at all times in order to preserve propriety. The old earl, also taken with Brigit’s beauty, granted his permission and then sought to improve working conditions for his employees to prevent a future occurrence.

  It did not take long for Brigit to win the hearts of both Gerard and his father with her gentle, loving manner and playful, mischievous pranks, which constantly earned her trips over the young lord’s knees. After a year under Gerard’s tutelage, she had blossomed into a graceful and confident woman
and had fallen madly in love with the man she called Reformer. With the old earl’s blessings, the young couple was wed only months before his passing. His father’s final request was that Gerard apply his inheritance and title to assist girls much like his beloved daughter-in-law and continue his quest to improve conditions for those who labored under his reign. Respecting his father’s dying wishes, the new Earl of Yarlshire encouraged Brigit to pursue greater education, petitioned for the building of an academy, and had her placed as the first headmistress to help lost girls redeem themselves and be offered a second chance at a better life.

  “I ordered Henry to discharge the woman immediately, and that if she remained, I would cane her for every girl she harmed,” Ryan was saying.

  “Son, you really must learn to control your temper,” Gerard scolded, “You had no authority to do that. It is the decision of the regents—”

  “I apologize, Father, but I informed him that we would withdraw our funding if he did not comply. I assumed your support, given Mother’s history and your own conviction against abuse of women and children and deplorable working conditions…” Ryan said firmly, a taint of challenge in his voice.

  “Brigit, this is your doing. You insisted on naming the boy after the Clan O’Ryan and afflicted upon him the stubborn pride and the hot temper of the Irish Nation,” the Lord Remington sighed, kissing her hand again.

  Brigit’s eyes twinkled, “Yes, my husband, and as I recall, you’ve enjoyed being afflicted by that hot temper countless times and in many ways.”

  He chuckled, smacking her rump. “You are most correct. Very well, my boy. I shall give you my blessings and my full support. What of this girl?”

  “I have two requests. One, I wish to reform her myself without restrictions. She needs to learn the language and this would be a good study opportunity…”