Riverbreeze: Part 1

Copyright © 2012 by Ellen E Johnson

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We hope you enjoyed
Riverbreeze
Part I. Please visit
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for Part II
and Part III.

Prologue: June 1634, Brentwood Manor, Cornwall
England

PART I
Interlude
Chapter One:
Destiny Realized, October 1643,
Riverbreeze Plantation, Colony of Virginia
Chapter Two:
The Twins’ Story, October 1643, Aileen Plantation, Colony of
Virginia
Chapter Three:
Welcome Home!
Chapter Four:
The Bad and the Beautiful
Chapter Five:
Getting to know you
Chapter Six:
Titbits
Chapter Seven:
Fateful Words
Chapter Eight:
A Beloved Man is laid to rest
Chapter Nine:
An Invitation is extended
Chapter Ten:
One Kiss; Two Kiss
Chapter
Eleven: In Sickness
Chapter
Twelve: Determination and Dogwood Tea
Chapter
Thirteen: Holy Matrimony; Together Forever
Chapter
Fourteen: Frustrations

Prologue
June 1634 Brentwood Manor, Cornwall, England

The two sets of footsteps came closer and the
small, frail boy tensed. He knew exactly what was to come; he went
through this almost every day, but he wouldn’t have it any other
way. He wasn’t like his older brother, Robbie; Robbie who tolerated
their older brother’s tyrannies because he already loved the land;
Robbie, who was born with a green thumb and had planting in his
blood. Oh, no, Jamie would rather be punished for his outright
defiance than to work in the fields like a common serf.

He would much rather be here, in the stables,
with the horses and the hay and the tack and the manure. He loved
it all, the musty, pungent odors, all the horses with their
different personalities and the closed-in secure feeling he got
when he first stepped into the dark interiors. From the moment his
father had set him on the beloved pony obtained just for him at the
tender age of two and a half, he knew he was destined to become a
great horseman. And he knew in his heart that his life would always
revolve around horses.

The footsteps were almost upon him now and
Jamie backed further into the corner of one of the stalls trying to
make himself as small as possible. He stopped only when he felt the
rough wood of the partition through the thin linen of his shirt.
Perhaps just this once he could hide behind big Blackie here;
perhaps he would be lucky today, but in truth he knew he would be
found. How could he not when the groom always gave him away and
when Blackie started to whinny and stamp his big hooves at the
approaching voices and footfalls?

It shouldn’t have been this way. He shouldn’t
have to hide from his older brother and Robbie shouldn’t be slaving
out in the fields with the other hands. They should have been
studying for their futures, the futures their father had chosen for
them; the futures that befitted second and third sons of the
nobility. As much as Jamie wanted to be around horses, his father
had insisted that he learn a trade first. Then, if luck were with
him, he could purchase land and horses and do what he wanted.

But both his and Robbie’s mother and father
were dead now. Their mother had died giving birth to Jamie and
their father had died four years ago in a riding accident, leaving
their oldest half-brother, Wesley, the first born son, the title of
Earl of Pennington. At twenty-four years of age, Wesley Charles
Bassett ruled over the estate like the lord he fancied himself to
be.

“Come out here, you little maggot!” ordered
the puffed-up older brother. Wesley threw open the stall door and
with a sweep of his hand, commanded Thomas, the old groom, to enter
and retrieve the boy from the stall. He could have done it himself
and he certainly wasn’t afraid of the big stallion, but he simply
didn’t want to get his expensive new boots dirty.

“Come on, lad.” The groom said, more kindly.
“You know you cannot hide from the master.” Thomas pushed past the
horse’s rump, shuffling slowly through the matted down hay, hating
every second of the moment. The old man hated everything about
their situation now, but was helpless to change anything. He was
just a servant, a servant who had been with this family for years
and years now, so long in fact that no one really knew exactly how
long he had been on the estate. He was definitely a permanent
fixture, a man who worked hard and was loyal to his lord and master
whoever he may be, and therefore, respected in return even by the
hateful new earl. He was fortunate that he would never be put out
and with his son and grandson following in his footsteps, he knew
that he would be taken care of until the day he died.

With a heavy heart he remembered the happier
times when the old Earl had been alive and lord of Brentwood Manor.
The boys had been robust, happy children then: well-fed, well-cared
for and well-loved. Now the pitiful creature huddling in the corner
of the stall looked nothing like that boy of four years ago and the
groom’s heart nearly broke in two. The lad’s big blue eyes looked
haunted and huge in a face too thin and his once flaxen curls were
now as matted and dirty as the straw beneath their feet. Instead of
being dressed in velvets and satins like the son of an earl should
be, he was dressed like the urchins who hung around the London
docks in old ragged hand-me-downs that were at least two sizes too
small. His arms and legs poked out of too-short sleeves and pant
legs like matchsticks and his feet were bare and nearly black with
filth.

“Come on out, James.” Thomas urged again,
extending a hand that was wrinkled and gnarled with age. He looked
at the lad with sympathetic eyes, feeling hopeless and helpless for
the both of them, knowing they were both caught in this miserable
existence with nowhere to go to escape it. And as the boy slowly
emerged from the corner, Thomas wished with all his heart that it
could be like the old days, when both Robbie and Jamie had come to
the stables with their father, all three of them laughing and
challenging each other to races and various contests. The love that
they had shared had been so special, but now he was gone. Oh, how
he wished for the old days….

Jamie trustingly placed his small hand into
the old groom’s gnarled one. Their eyes met and held for a moment;
Thomas winked and offered a small smile and a nod. Jamie’s
expression turned hard. He knew what his punishment would be and he
would face it bravely like he always did. It was a part of his life
now, a part that he would endure because he would never stop coming
to these stables. Nothing but death would keep him away.

“Must we do this again, runt?” Wesley sneered
at his youngest brother with disgust. And again, as he always felt
when he looked upon his half-brother, a loathing so strong welled
up in him that he nearly choked on it. He was the oldest, the
favored; the one who had inherited; yet when these last two sons
had been born to their father’s second wife, their father had
favored them. It wasn’t Wesley’s fault that he had been born small
and puny and had grown up lacking in physical strength. And it
hadn’t been his fault that his mother had coddled and pampered him,
spoiling him rotten and turning him into a wally. It hadn’t been
his fault that he had never lived up to his father’s expectations
of a strong, hearty first-born son so when Robert had come along
when Wesley was twelve and then James two years later, they had
taken all the attention that had once been bestowed upon him and
the hate and resentment had begun and grown. “Why will you not make
life easier for both of us by following your brother into the
fields where you belong? As least he knows his place.”

“Never!” Jamie shouted back. He stood
straight and proud facing Wesley squarely. He glared back at him
with just as much hatred.

“Then get down on your knees!” Wesley ordered
in a hard voice.

“No!” Jamie refused boldly.

Thomas gasped quietly. No one defied the
earl.

Wesley’s face went nearly purple with rage.
“You will do as I say!” He roared, and he kicked Jamie’s shins so
hard the weak, little boy fell heavily forward onto the uneven
brick floor of the stables. And while he was still procumbent and
trying desperately not to cry from the scrapes to his knees and
hands, Wesley bent down and in one swift motion grabbed the back of
Jamie’s shirt and ripped it away, exposing a skinny back that
already bore the scars and festering wounds from previous
whippings.

“Oh God, please my lord…..” Thomas pleaded
with his master. “He still has not healed from the last time.” He
started to move toward the lad but Wesley shoved him back.

“Stay out of this, old man, or you will be
next.” Wesley warned, then without any more thought he raised the
hand that already held the horse whip and brought it sharply down
over the marred expanse of skin, causing a thin, long welt to
appear. Blood welled and Jamie’s body jerked, his back arched as he
tried to move away from the stinging blows. His fingers clawed the
uneven bricks and dirt in between as he bore the pain, but he
wouldn’t try to get up and run away. Wesley could easily catch him
and then the beating would be even worse. Jamie’s little body
suffered through a dozen more attacks of the whip and when it was
over, all that could be heard were his muffled sobs.

The old groom’s face was creased with concern
as he watched over the poor lad. He had never felt so helpless in
his life. And then he looked over at the monster that could do such
an awful thing and wondered, not for the first time, if he and his
family should leave this place. Even though he had promised to
serve Wesley as he had served his father, he didn’t believe the old
earl would blame him for leaving. But then the battered form of the
young lad caught his attention once again and Thomas knew he could
never leave James and Robert.

“May I go to him now, my lord?” Thomas asked
quietly, keeping his eyes on the sobbing child. He feared that if
he looked at Wesley any more that day he would probably do
something he would regret for the rest of his life.

“Take him up to the house. I’ll be going
there myself to give instructions to the housekeeper.” And without
another thought for either of them, the third Earl of Pennington
turned on his heel and strode toward the impressive manor house
that his grandfather had built approximately fifty years
before.

It was only after the earl had left that
Thomas moved to kneel beside Jamie. With a gentle hand, he stroked
the back of the boy’s head and said, “Jamie, lad, can you hear me?”
When the child nodded, the groom continued in his caring voice,
“Can you stand?”