Riverbreeze: Part 1 (2 page)

Jamie lifted a tear-streaked face slowly.
Already his tortured body was starting to tremble uncontrollably
with the shock of the attack and Thomas knew it wouldn’t be long
before fever would overtake him. “I’ll try.” Jamie whispered
bravely. On shaking limbs he struggled to push himself up but the
effort and the renewed pain was too much for him to bear and he
collapsed unconscious to the floor.

Thomas let out an ungentlemanly curse but in
truth he realized it was probably for the best. Picking up the boy
and carrying him to the house would be extremely painful for him.
This way he wouldn’t feel a thing.

Carrying Jamie the considerable distance to
the stately Elizabethan style mansion from the stables was a labor
of love for Thomas. Even though the child was small and light for
his age due to four years of a meager diet, the old groom’s back
wasn’t as strong as it used to be. Nothing seemed to be as it used
to be except for the imposing structure that stood peacefully amid
acres and acres of barley, oats and rye fields and sheep-dotted
meadows. But even that was in the process of being changed. The new
Earl had felt that the house wasn’t large enough even though it
already had six huge rooms downstairs and an equal amount of
bedchambers upstairs and then the servants’ rooms on the third
floor.

Thomas shook his head in disgust as he neared
the kitchen entrance. All this splendor and wealth should not have
gone to the oldest son. Thomas felt that he didn’t deserve it. But
these two sweet boys, Robert and James, who had inherited their
father’s courageous and kind ways, they should have been the ones
to inherit all that their grandfather had built, not the milksop
who just happened to be born first.

As Thomas entered the kitchen he heard Wesley
issuing the last of his instructions to the housekeeper. “And no
supper for the brat!” He ordered harshly. Then in a more normal
voice, “I’ll be in the library.” And he left without even noticing
that Thomas had arrived with Jamie.

But Robbie had, who gave a small gasp of
distress. He had already pushed away his bowl of mutton stew and
clenched his hands into angry fists as he had listened to his older
brother relate what had happened in the stables. He had had to sit
there at the rough oak trestle table used by all the servants with
lips pressed tightly together and not say a word back as Wesley had
once again put the blame on him. Although he never understood
Wesley’s reasoning, he accepted that it was his fault and day after
day the guilt built up in him until he was almost ready to
break.

But Robbie was strong, stronger that his
brother, in body and in spirit, if that were at all possible for
Jamie had a pretty strong will. Now as he looked upon his brother’s
small body hanging limply in Thomas’s arms, he knew he must remain
strong and he also knew it was time to put his plan in motion, a
plan he had been formulating for several months now.

“I’ll take him upstairs, Thomas.” Robbie
said, walking purposefully toward the tired groom. The kindly,
plump housekeeper was already moving towards the cavernous
fireplace to collect hot water in a pitcher and numerous linens so
she could tend to the boy’s back.

“Are you sure, Robbie? Are you sure you can
manage?” Thomas asked, although he had to admit he’d welcome the
help. His arms were tired and his lower back ached.

“I can manage.” Robbie stated firmly. And he
could for he hadn’t been denied food for the past four years. He
had obeyed his older brother and worked in the fields and the
kitchen gardens right along with the other tenant farmers and
servants. He may have only been twelve years old, but he was a
goodly-sized boy with a healthy, sound body.

“All right, lad. Easy now.” Thomas said, as
he handed Jamie over to the loving arms of his brother. Jamie
didn’t even stir and once Robbie had adjusted to the extra weight,
he slowly mounted the back staircase, the housekeeper following
close behind.

From the moment Robbie had seen Jamie
unconscious in the groom’s arms, something had snapped inside of
him.
No more
, he thought
,
never again will I let this happen. Never again will you go to the
stables nor will you have to work in the fields either. Never again
will you feel the sting of the whip on your back or suffer hunger
pains from missed meals. You’ll get your strength back, you’ll grow
big and strong and both of us will get our dignity back. This I
promise you, Jamie, this I promise you.

Robbie laid Jamie down in the lumpy bed they
shared in one of the cold, drafty rooms up on the third floor.
There was once a time when they each had a room of their own on the
second floor, rooms with fireplaces filled with coal fires and fine
heavy furniture and velvet draperies on the windows. There was once
a time when they slept together only when they had wanted to,
particularly when a storm was passing over or simply because they
only wanted each other’s company. But not anymore. Those times were
over and now the two of them shared a servant’s room, far away from
the sumptuously decorated guest rooms and away from Wesley and his
doxies. Now there were no carpets on the rough wooden floor, no
velvet draperies on the small dormer windows, only one old rope bed
with a lumpy rag-filled mattress and one old chest for their scanty
wardrobe. Looking around him only made Robbie more determined to go
through with his plan and succeed.

Jamie stirred and whimpered pitifully as
Robbie and the housekeeper settled him on his stomach.

“Jamie?” Robbie whispered close to his ear.
“’Tis Robbie. Mrs. Biddle and I are going to take care of you.
Everything’s going to be all right.”

“I hurt, Robbie, and I’m so cold.” Jamie
cried in a small voice. And he started to tremble again.

Robbie took his brother’s hand into his own.
“We cannot cover you up yet.” He said softly. “Mrs. Biddle has to
tend to your back.”

“Jamie, love,” came Mrs. Biddle’s kind voice.
“This is going to hurt, but you’re a strong lad. I know you are.”
She cooed, bringing a cloth over to wash the wounds.

Robbie held Jamie’s hand during the entire
ordeal of cleansing and bandaging, and Robbie was amazed at the
amount of strength Jamie did indeed have. By the time Mrs. Biddle
was finished, Robbie’s hand ached from being squeezed so hard he
thought his bones might break.

“Are you hungry, Jamie?” The housekeeper
asked after tidying up after herself and bundling Jamie up in the
few quilts that were provided for the boys. The question was
ridiculous because both Robbie and Mrs. Biddle knew he would be
ravenous. “I’ll bring you some stew if you are.”

“Yes, mum. Thank you.” whispered Jamie, his
manners still intact.

“But Wesley ordered no supper.” Robbie
reminded her, looking frightened.

Mrs. Biddle made a face. It was clear how she
felt about the matter. “He needs nourishment. And I do not care
what the Earl has ordered. This time he has gone too far.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Biddle. We shall never
forget you for this.” Robbie said, clutching her hand in extreme
gratitude. He knew what a risk she was taking by disobeying
Wesley’s orders.

“’Tis the least I can do.” She said gruffly,
slightly embarrassed at the boy’s show of emotion. She exited
quickly then, taking the pitcher of dirty, bloody water with
her.

Robbie immediately went back to his brother,
studying his flushed face and glazed eyes. He touched his forehead
and it was so hot now. Robbie knew that that meant Jamie had a
fever and he prayed to God that it wouldn’t get any worse. If it
did, Wesley would send for the physician with his leeches, purges
and clysters and Robbie didn’t like all that medicine. He still
remembered back to when he was five years old and afflicted with a
sickness that he hadn’t understood. The physician had been called
in and instead of helping Robbie to feel better, the treatments had
only made him feel worse. The cordials that he had been made to
drink to empty his stomach had tasted absolutely awful and the
letting of his blood had scared him nearly to death. He would not
let them subject Jamie to that treatment no matter what.

But he also remembered the warm soothing
drink sweetened with honey that Mrs. Biddle had brought to him
after the doctor had left. It had settled his roiling stomach and
had eased his headache, allowing him to fall into a restful,
restorative sleep. But Wesley had forbidden Mrs. Biddle to
administer these folk remedies to Jamie. In fact, he had forbidden
her to do anything that provided any comfort at all, other than
basic cleansing with soap and water.

Again Robbie felt Jamie’s forehead and looked
into his eyes. Jamie looked back and his lips quivered into a brave
little smile, but then it disappeared as he whispered, “I hate
him.”

“I know; I do too.”

“Why did Papa have to die?” Jamie cried for
the thousandth time, tears in his eyes.

Robbie took a deep breath and closed his
eyes. “I know not.” He answered sadly for the thousandth time. He
looked back at his brother then. “But, Jamie, I have a plan for us,
a good plan that will take us far, far away from here.”

Jamie’s eyes widened and he looked a little
frightened. “What plan?”

“Wait.” Robbie said quickly, and he moved to
the corner of the room where he pried up one of the loose
floorboards and retrieved a piece of yellowed paper. But just as
Robbie was about to return to Jamie’s bedside, Mrs. Biddle’s
footsteps could be heard coming up the last few stairs. So Robbie
quickly stuffed the paper down his breeches and then resumed his
place beside his brother, with a finger to his lips.

It seemed to take forever for Jamie to finish
his mutton stew and bread, but only because Robbie was so excited
about finally revealing his plan to his brother. As soon as Mrs.
Biddle bid them goodnight and closed the door behind her, Robbie
was pulling the paper from his breeches and smoothing the
creases.

“Right.” He started enthusiastically. “Look
at this.” He showed the paper to Jamie, but it did no good. Jamie’s
education hadn’t even started by the time their father had died.
Jamie had not even been six years of age and had not even been
formally breeched by that time. He had learned his letters and
numbers from Robbie, but could hardly read the first line of the
Bible. Robbie’s reading skills were only slightly better, but he
had memorized what the paper had said from the man who had given it
to him. “A man came to the gardens six months ago and gave us all
one of these handbills. He called himself William Clayton and he
said he was an agent for a Mr. Tyler in Virginia. This Mr. Tyler is
a planter and needs men to work his fields. He’ll pay for our
passage and then after we’ve worked for him for several years,
we’ll get our own land.”

“I do not want to work for this man.” Jamie
whined, bursting Robbie’s bubble. “You know I hate to work in the
fields.”

Robbie looked hard at his brother. “Do you
want to stay here? We’re nothing more than servants here, Jamie. Do
you like being whipped every time you’re caught in the stables and
then sent to bed without any supper?”

“Sometimes I eat the horses’ carrots and
apples and oats.” Jamie admitted softly.

Robbie gaped at his brother in horror. “You
eat the horses’ oats?” He gasped.

A defiant look came over Jamie. “I would
rather eat in the stables than with the likes of you!” He
declared.

There was moment of silence as the two of
them glared at each other. Robbie was angered by that statement;
they always argued about working in the fields. Robbie thought
sometimes that Jamie was being unreasonable about refusing to
follow Wesley’s orders, but then again he understood him as well.
It was Jamie’s way of surviving and just because Robbie didn’t
agree with him, it didn’t mean he had any right to criticize.

Robbie let out a sigh. “I want to go to
Virginia, Jamie.” He declared. “This agent said there are great
opportunities for hard working men there. There is enough land for
anyone who wants it, land and good water and lots of wildlife. I
want my own manor and my own land. I do not want to work here for
Wesley for the rest of my life. Do you?”

“No, but…” Jamie still appeared
frightened.

“Then let us go to Virginia. Let us work for
this Mr. Tyler until we can obtain our own land. We shall plant
barley and rye, raise sheep like here and we’ll grow the Virginia
tobacco and we’ll be rich!” Robbie’s eyes glittered with enthusiasm
and excitement.

“Can we have horses too?” Jamie asked
hopefully.

“Of course! As soon as we have enough money,
you can buy the best horses to be had in England and we’ll have
them shipped to us.”

“Must we work in the fields?” Jamie
whined.

“Well, I know not…” Robbie answered slowly.
He didn’t want to scare Jamie off again just when it seemed Jamie
had started to become interested. “Maybe Mr. Tyler has horses and
you could help with them.”

“I’d like that much better.”

“Good. The agent will be at the fair this
next Saturday to sign people up. We shall go then with the rest of
the servants, slip away and talk to him.”

“What if Wesley catches us?”

Robbie shrugged his shoulders as if to say
‘so what?’. “We shall run away to Bristol and wait there until the
boat sails. I have some money, Jamie.” Robbie lowered his voice to
barely above a whisper. “And I have some of Mama’s jewels.”

Jamie’s eyes widened. “You do? How?”

“I stole them from Wesley’s chamber. Do you
remember when he accused his doxy, Rochelle, of stealing the
jewelry?” When Robbie saw Jamie nod, he continued, “Well, that was
me. I stole them. They’re ours too. And you know he would never
give them to us like Papa wanted him to.”

“I know.” Jamie whispered, in awe of his
brother at the moment. What courage that would have taken to slip
into Wesley’s bedchamber unnoticed and take the jewels without
being discovered. “Oh, Robbie, do you really believe this is the
right thing to do? Do you really believe we should go to
Virginia?”