Tenacious Trents 01 - A Misguided Lord (15 page)

“
Elle,” Drake called as he
came forward. “Bentley has been good enough to offer a seat to you
as all the other conveyances are full to overflowing.”

“
How very kind of him,”
Eleanor remarked dryly. “However, Lord Bentley can feel free to
offer the seat to another lady. I have no wish to visit either
attraction today.”

“
I won’t be joining the
others either, Miss Westin.” He bowed before her. “As I mentioned
yesterday, I own a mill not far away and thought we would take this
opportunity to visit.”

“
I see.” She nodded her
head. “I admire that you would take time from your leisure to see
to business.” She wasn’t lying for it was the truth. Few took such
a serious interest in their properties and it was one of the few
things she did admire about Bentley.

“
I will bid you good day
then.” She smiled and began to turn away. Besides the work waiting
at home, she could use a day without Lord Bentley, who was
beginning to become likeable for more than just his
kisses.

“
I had hoped you would join
me.”

“
You don’t need me to help
inspect your mill.”
I don’t need to spend
the day alone with you.
Who would have
thought after London she would actually begin to enjoy his company.
Perhaps if he refrained from kissing her senseless she could hold
on to her anger. But his lips caused a riot in her body, and with
her emotions. He would be gone soon and she already spent enough
time thinking about his lips. She did not need to think any more
about the man who would be gone from the area in a week and she
would never see again.

“
No, I don’t,” he agreed.
“However, I would like to show you that all mills employing orphans
are not so bad.”

Eleanor looked at him, trying to
decide. Why did he wish to show her something good about himself?
Did he still wish to make her his mistress? On the other hand, this
offer could solely be for Drake’s sake. Then again, Bentley lived a
privileged life. Maybe to him adding a few windows was enough.
“Very well. I will be glad to join you.”

Once they were on the road he began
explaining more about the mill. “There is still more I would like
to do yet.”

He knows how I feel about
the deplorable conditions orphans are forced to live with and now
he is going to begin making excuses.

“
The younger ones are not
the problem. It is the ones approaching adulthood that are a
concern.”

This is not what she
expected.

“
The boys know only the
mill, but they have the right to be out on their own with a home of
their own.”

Eleanor had not thought of this. When
she thought of orphans, she thought of small children. Why didn’t
she ever give consideration to the fact that children do grow up?
What did the older ones do when they reached the age of
majority?

“
Most have years before
they need to begin to worry about a future but one young man,
Peter, is the oldest at twenty. He is an industrious worker and has
been acting as a supervisor for some years.”

“
If he is content, why the
concern?” Eleanor found herself asking.

“
Because he is a man and
should be able to support himself better. Right now the wages are
not enough, but I will be able to increase them in a year or
two.”

“
Is there a better position
you can offer?” She asked.

“
There is only the manager
of operations. That position was filled a few years ago when I
first purchased the property. I would hate to remove him from his
position for another.” He mused out loud.

“
I am sure an answer will
come to you,” Eleanor offered optimistically and she truly felt he
would find a solution. Perhaps Bentley wasn’t as bad as she once
believed. Quickly Eleanor shook the thought from her mind. She must
not soften to the man. He insulted her and tried to make her his
mistress. Except for his concern for the young man, he was really
no different than who he was in London. She would continue to
remember him that way and withhold further judgment until she saw
the mill.

They turned down a shady drive. A sign
at the side of the road indicated they had arrived at the mill.
Inwardly Eleanor braced herself for what she would find. The plight
of orphans had always weighed heavy on her mind. She had been a
lucky one. Her siblings could have ended up worse, had it not been
for this gentleman beside her. That thought alone chilled her as a
reminder of how she had come into those funds.

The first building that come into view
was a beautiful, four story home. The lawns were will manicured and
small gardens graced the landscape. Had she not known better, she
would have thought this was the home of a wealthy
landowner.

“
Where is the mill?” She
found herself asking.

“
It is in the back, along
the river.” Bentley pulled up to the house.

A young man of possibly twelve came
from the stables to hold the horses.

“
Good afternoon, Lord
Bentley.” The lad, dressed in an oversized coat that fell long and
with sleeves that covered his hands, addressed him with a toothy
grin.

“
Good afternoon, Wesley.”
Bentley returned. “Please take care of the horses. I believe I will
be here until the afternoon.”

Eleanor was about to inquire if Wesley
was also an orphan, and if so, why he wasn’t also in the mill.
Bentley answered the before she could ask.

“
Wesley lost his hand as a
child. He was used as a chimney sweep. The sleeve of his coat
caught fire. I found him before he could die of his injuries but
his hand had to be amputated. His employer had simply left him in
the alley after the flames were extinguished, determining that the
boy was of no use to him any longer.”

How absolutely
horrible.
“How did you come across him?”
Surely Lord Bentley didn’t often venture into places like Cheapside
or worse, Seven Dials.

“
He was cleaning my chimney
when it occurred,” he offered grimly. “One needs two hands for mill
work and he appears to be happy with the horses.”

Eleanor didn’t question further.
Perhaps Lord Bentley wasn’t as ignorant as she had assumed. Still,
he couldn’t begin to comprehend what it would feel like to wonder
where your next meal would come from or to be so cold you didn’t
think you would ever be warm again. Eleanor had come close, but she
also knew her life was luxury compared to others.

The front door was opened by a plump,
graying lady. Cheerfully she greeted him. She would make a
wonderful grandmother for someone.

“
Lord Bentley, it is a
pleasure to see you again. We are so glad you have come.” She
smiled and stepped back so Bentley and Eleanor could
enter.

“
Good afternoon, Mrs.
Nevil.” Bentley smiled warmly. Eleanor didn’t think it was
possible, but the man seemed happy to be addressing this
servant.

“
May I introduce Miss
Eleanor Westin? She would like to inspect these
holdings.”

“
Welcome, Miss Westin.” The
woman bobbed. “Shall I serve tea in the parlor?”

“
No. I think we will go
straight to the mill and join the others for the midday
meal.”

“
Very good, Sir, Miss
Westin.” She curtseyed again before exiting.

Bentley led Eleanor down a long
hallway. Besides the staircase, doors led to a parlor, library,
office and dining room, all left open for anyone to peek in. At the
end of the hallway was a set of glass doors that led to a rather
large terrace with several tables and chairs. A stone path led down
a slope toward a building that Eleanor assumed was the
mill.

Several windows were open at the top
of the structure as well as the lower. Not only was the building
receiving fresh air but an abundance of light. The windows alone
had to have cost Bentley a small fortune.

As they approached the mill Eleanor
was surprised by the near silence. Weren’t several looms operating
usually loud when put in an open space? Bentley paused and tilted
his head, as if he too were listening. And odd look of concern came
over his face. As they drew closer, the distinct sounds of a child
crying and an angry voice could be heard. Bentley stiffened and
stalked forward, leaving Eleanor to follow behind.

Without pause Bentley threw the door
open and marched inside. Eleanor hurried after him, only to run
into his back when he stopped suddenly. Bending around his wide
shoulders, she tried to see what had caused him to stiffen so. She
could almost feel anger pouring off of him. Then she saw what he
had and wanted to cry out, but held her tongue. But if Bentley
didn’t remedy this situation correctly and quickly, she
would.

Mr. Thomason had come highly
recommended but he was lucky Clay held control of his anger because
his hands itched to do the man serious harm.

“
What is the meaning of
this?” He kept his tone low, calm, yet threatening. If it were just
Thomason, he would thrash the man within an inch of his life, but
he didn’t want to exhibit the same volatile and violent actions of
that man in front of the boys.

Mr. Thomason turned. “Good afternoon,
Lord Bentley. As you can see, a little discipline is being carried
out.” He gestured with his left hand. His right held a willow
switch. Even though it had been years since he had felt to sting of
the switch, the sight made his blood run cold. Crouched before
Thomason was a boy no older than seven. His back was striped and
bloody. A few whimpers escaped.

“
I have been very clear
that this form of disciple will
not
be tolerated.” Bentley reminded
coldly.

“
I tend to disagree and you
will too when you see the damage this young whelp has
done.”

The boy let his head drop and his
shoulders shook as he began to cry anew.

“
Show me,” Clay
ordered.

The manager led him to a stack of
fresh wool, ready for weaving. Blue die had been spilled, possibly
ruining the entire sack.

“
Not minding what he was
doing and ruined it all.”

Clay took only a moment to inspect, to
rein in his anger further. He abhorred violence but wondered if the
boy shouldn’t be punished. The lot of it would need to be tossed.
He turned back to the boy, Isaac, still curled up on the floor but
his eyes watched him with concern. Clayton knew the pain the boy
suffered and knelt down beside him. “Is this true? Did you spill
the die?” He kept his tone soft and calm. The lad was already
frightened half to death.

His eyes remained large and round as
she swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“
Were you playing and not
minding your work?”

“
No, sir. My hand. It was
hurting mighty fierce. I tried to hold on, but I lost my grip.”
Tears welled up in his eyes. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean it, sir.
Truly, I didn’t.”

Clay smiled softly. “I am sure you
didn’t.” He ruffled the lad’s hair. “Why was your hand hurting? Was
the bucket of die too heavy for you to carry?”

The boys’ eyes first went to Mr.
Thomason who glared at him, as if he wished to beat him further.
They then sought out another. Peter smiled and nodded encouragement
to the boy.

The lad produced his right hand,
neatly bandaged, though fresh blood stained it at the base of his
thumb. Clay removed white cloth to better inspect the wound. Miss
Westin gasped at the sight. A horrible gash ran along the inside of
his hand, just below where his thumb was attached. Any deeper and
he would have lost his thumb.

“
How did you hurt your
hand, Isaac?” Clay asked.

“
It was my fault, Lord
Bentley.” A gangly boy of approximately four and ten stepped
forward.

Clayton glanced up at him. “Explain,
Theo.”

“
Yesterday I was carrying a
bag of wool. I put it down foolishly in the aisle to help Simon
untangle some threads. When Isaac came along, he didn’t see the
bundle and tripped. His hand caught on the moving yarn.”

“
That batch had to be
destroyed as well.” Thompson offered, now glaring at Theo. “Too
much blood. Ruined it.”

Bentley ignored the man for fear he
would kill Thomason if he didn’t focus on the boys.

“
Were you punished?” Clay
asked.

“
Yes, sir.” The boy
answered, standing straight, looking ahead and not at anyone in
particular.

“
Take off your shirt and
turn around.”

Again Peter nodded encouragement to
the young man.

Theo slowly turned and raised his
shirt enough for Bentley to inspect his back. It was marred with
red welts and broken skin, just beginning to scab, similar to those
on young Isaac.

“
Thank you.” Clayton stood.
“Please take Isaac up to Mrs. Nevil and see that both of your
injuries are well tended. Have her send for the doctor to look at
Isaac’s hand.” He glared over at Thomason. “At least she will
follow my orders.”

The older helped the younger out and
supported him as they made their way toward the house.”