The Education Of Joanne Part 2

Returning to the small parlour, Lord Jason picked up the bag of coin with distaste. March, he thought, as he carried it into his study. He dropped the leather pouch into a drawer of his writing desk; pushed it shut impatiently. His face took on the pensive frown familiar to all who had seen him sort out a problem.

The man actually did not know Morella was dead these thirteen years past. The utter gall of Furnesssettled upon him. What can I reckon on from the son if the father has proven such a blatantdegenerate? he wondered as he returned to his work outdoors. * * * *

Lord Furness set the pace at a hard gallop until he came upon his coach. At sight of their approaching master, his men drew to a halt and awaited him.

Orders were quickly given. Lady Joanne was to be deposited upon the doorstep at Kentoncombe and the coach was to depart instantly-thus giving Lord Jason no choice in the matter when he discovered it was a daughter, not a son with whom he was to deal. There was always the possibility that Kenton would send the chit back in a coach of his own, but Furness was willing to take happenstance.

With a gross chuckle Furness thought of the meeting of his daughter and Kenton. The man will handle it, he mused. Joanne dismissed from his thoughts he turned them to the pleasures that awaited him in London. He had been from them far too long.

Joanne heard her father's instructions with an ever-sinking heart. Bruised and battered by every bounce of the coach, denied the consolation of her books, and given meagre meals, her mental state had rapidly deteriorated. She did not know how to deal with the looming disaster. Anger and fear mingled in a stomach-churning battle for supremacy. Her father's orders indicated Lord Jason may not wish to fulfil his part of whatever bargain had been struck between the two. But how and why had an arrangement been made? Even in her secluded life, Joanne's reading told her it was a highly improper measure her father had put forward. That she was merely the p.a.w.n, with no control of what lay before her added to her desperation.

Shakily Joanne raised the coach's shades and gazed at the countryside with a benumbed awareness. The coach slowed and it wended its way up and down hills and around curves. Trees and rock abounded in the hilly terrain. Never had she seen such beautiful vistas. For a moment her tension eased.

Taut nerves snapped to the fore as the thud of the team's hooves turned to spark-flinging clinks and stoneechoing crunches when they reached the crushed-rock approach of Kentoncombe. Accustomed to the grandeur of the large estate of Furness House, Joanne was shocked by the ramshackle appearance of the small meandering house before which the coach halted. Surely this was merely a renter's cottage, she thought as she took in the mutltilevels of slate shingles.

The rattle of the coach's door handle startled Joanne. A shaft of bright light flooded her prison. One of her father's liveried servants stood without, his hand extended to a.s.sist her down the steps.

Instinctively Joanne scooted back away from him. The coach had become familiar. Beyond it was nothing but the frightening unknown. Was this Kentoncombe after all? Had her father lied? Was she to be sold as a farmer's servant girl?

Joanne's heart thumped wildly, her vision blurred. She vented with a piercing scream and wrapped both hands about the dangling strap beside the opposite door.

At a word from the scowling servant that door was wrenched open. Seeing Joanne's white-knuckled grip upon the strap, the groom disappeared. A moment later he returned with a short whip. With a few deft blows with the stock he forced Joanne's fingers from it and pushed her towards the other door. She erupted in frenzy, determined to remain in the coach.

The uproar caused by three of Furness men who pushed, cursed, and tugged at the screaming, clawing girl made the coach's teams shift nervously. The commotion drew the attention of those in the house and across the way in the stables.

Despite her bulk and fear-induced strength, the three grooms finally managed to drag Lady Joanne from the coach. Her baggage tumbling about them as another Furness liveried servant tossed them down.

No sooner did the men release her than Joanne scrambled to her feet and lunged back to the coach. While the men hauled her away once again, one shouted for the driver to turn the coach about. Joanne's sobbed whine erupted into anguished screams. With a last desperate attempt she flung herself at the retreating coach. One of the men put out a foot and she tripped, fell in a bruising sprawl upon the cobblestone courtyard.

One of the grooms slapped a letter into the hand of a startled housemaid who gaped in the doorway of the manor. He then made a running leap onto the back of the coach. The driver whipped the teams into a run before Joanne could get to her feet.

Lord Jason arrived from the stables just in time to catch a last glimpse of the coach with the Furness crest emblazoned upon its sides. Surprise at this hasty departure coalesced into further doubts about Furness' request. "Milord!"

Turning toward the large Tudor entrance of his manor, Kenton gaped. A mound of flesh gowned in tattered and soiled remnants and crowned with a filthy matted tangle of hair shrieked terror-stricken sobs while its fleshy palms frantically beat upon the cobblestones.

Chapter Four.

Lord Jason calmly approached the scene. Mrs. Caern had taken the letter from the still-gaping maid and handed it to him when they met at the squalling figure's side. With a questioningly glance at his housekeeper, he broke the Furness crest seal and read. Abruptly Kenton rolled the piece of parchment and stuck it into his pocket.

"We must get her inside," he said above the blubbering from the p.r.o.ne form at their feet. Bending, Lord Jason touched Lady Joanne gently on the shoulder. Her violent reaction shocked him to the core.

Joanne rolled onto her side and grabbed his extended hand. She sunk her teeth into the flesh at the base of Kenton's thumb.

Everyone about the pair stood frozen until blood spurted. The groom who had rushed forward with a long handled pitchfork in hand at the original disturbance stepped forward at the burst of red. He solidly thwacked Lady Joanne upon the head.

Unconsciousness mercifully freed Joanne and Lord Jason's hand for good measure.

Kenton whipped out his kerchief and wrapped it about the wound. He simultaneously commanded his men to lift Joanne and carry her inside the manor. Five of them bent to do as ordered. Grumbling, they followed Mrs. Caern who led the way.

"Gently, his lordship says, ha!" mumbled one.

"How many stone do ye reckon 'er to be?" asked another who grunted under the burden of her weight.

"The sty be a more fittin' place than one o' 'is lordship's beds," complained a third as they huffed up a few stairs here and there as they wended their way to the coat-of-arms bedchamber.

"Quiet, men."

Lord Jason's command silenced their tongues. "Place her on the rug there by the fireplace," he directed when they reached the chamber. "Don't drop her," he said sharply, reading their thoughts. "Now be back to your duties."

"Aye, milord." They nodded and each gave a short bow then shuffled out the door.

"To your duties also," he ordered the three serving girls cl.u.s.tered in the doorway before he closed the door upon their noses.

"What's to be done with her, milord? Who is the wench?" Mrs. Caern asked, hands on hips as she surveyed the hulk that was Joanne. "No wench this, Mrs. Caern. Take note. You have before you Lady Joanne, sole child of my lord, the Earl of Furness."

"Loooo," Mrs. Caern covered her mouth in disbelief. "That can't be part of the gentry."

"Nonetheless she is and as such you are to show proper respect."

"But it was the son of Furness that was to come."

"So I thought, but my lord Furness-" he stopped and laughed. The elderly housekeeper was like a

mother to him, but there were matters of which even she need not be apprised.

"The first thing, I should think, would be a good scrubbing," he noted as her foul odour twitched his nose. "Best be about it while she isn't in her senses.

"T'would be most safe then I imagine," Kenton added with a lift of his eyebrow. He removed the

kerchief from his hand and gave a cursory inspection to the bite.

"Why, milord, let me tend to ye first." Mrs. Caern walked toward him in concern, shocked at her own neglect.

"No, there is little harm done. Lady Joanne needs your tending far more than this. But be wary. Call me

as soon as she begins to waken. Her eyes were rolling white-mad as any battle-crazed man I've ever

seen.

"Get her as clean as you can and find a clean nightdress in her baggage. I'll have it sent up directly." He looked down at the quiet form as if it were a wounded creature.

"If you women cannot get her abed, cover her and have the men aid you. Burn the garments she now

wears." He went to the door.

"Let me know when you have her abed or if she shows signs of awakening. I will be in my study." After a last pitying glance, he departed.

The three serving girls fairly tumbled into the room when Mrs. Caern went to call them. As they righted themselves, they were peppered with orders.

"Meg, fetch me scissors and soap-the strongest we have-and a brush from the scullery.

"Nell, hot water and aplenty of it.

"Ann, a tub, cloths from the linen hold for washing and drying. To it," she snapped at the staring trio.

They scampered to their appointed errands and Mrs. Caern returned to Lady Joanne's side. Kneeling, she felt for and found a strong pulse. The girl presented as disgusting a sight and smell as Mrs. Caern had ever encountered, but she could not suppress the twinge of growing compa.s.sion.

An earl's daughter, she thought. How had the poor thing come to this state?

Meg stumbled to a halt beside her, holding forth the scissors and soap she had fetched.

Rolling up her sleeves, Mrs. Caern took the scissors. She started at the sleeve edge and began cutting the rag off.

Jason Kenton reread Lord Furness' letter slowly, then lay it upon his desk. The calm brown of his eyes flickered with sparks of anger. Now he understood Furness' spell of mad humour.

The man must be mad-no, worse. Lower than an animal to send his daughter to a man he knows little of but for a chance meeting four and ten years past, he thought. I could be a rake. But Lady Joanne's form rendered that unlikely.

However a vision of the lady now in the coat-of-arms bedchamber stimulated further contemplation.

Why had she been delivered in such a manner? Obviously this sojourn was not to her liking.

Lord Jason fingered the bandage on his hand. Strong jaws and teeth if no other attributes were hers.Was she then non compos-insane? He discarded that idea immediately. Furness would have simplylocked her away forever if that were the case. He leaned forward and rested his forearms upon thedesktop, his anger turned to concentration. The smell of the lady he could easily understand. It brought abrief reminisce upon his experiences with the cosseted n.o.bility. Even a degree of uncleanliness could befathomed-bathing not being yet a national habit. But account for the dilapidation of her person anddress, and her behaviour? What was he to do? Kenton pondered seriously.

A man who by habit weighed problems carefully, Lord Jason did not, as Furness expected, immediately think of Joanne's removal although the reason was not what Furness would have expected. Very simply, Kenton had a weakness for the injured, the hurt, and clearly saw that Joanne's state, at least her mental state, would be worsened by such an action.

No, he reasoned, we shall wait. Compa.s.sion as well as curiosity as to the "why" of her conditionensured Lady Joanne's stay beyond this day.

The enclosed room, the heated water, and the difficulty of Joanne's unconscious weight had reduced Mrs. Caern and the three serving girls to perspiration-drenched figures. Damp mobcaps sagged over wet wisps of hair and sweat trickled down their brows, but Lady Joanne's flesh now had a rare scrubbed freshness. Her hair, though it hung with dull lifelessness, was clean of most of the vermin and brushed free of the tangled matting, albeit not without cost.

Meg stared disgustedly at the heap of offensive hair that had once been Joanne's. "What's to be done with this?"

"Into the fire with it along with all the other things," Mrs. Caern commanded as she worked with the other two struggling valiantly to pull the nightdress onto the p.r.o.ne figure receiving their ministrations.

With a collective sigh they all stared at the result of their work.

"Be it not odd she's not to 'er senses yet, ma'am?" Nell asked.

"Her breathin' be good. I'll not be concerned, yet. Let's roll her onto that clean sheet and get her to the bed. Lord Jason will likely be wondering what we're about so long," the housekeeper noted tiredly.

"It's beyond me how this can be a 'lady,'" Meg commented as she put her weight into the task of moving "It's not yers to be knowin' or even thinkin' on. Keep yer thinkin' to yerself. This day's work is to go no further," snapped Mrs. Caern. She gave each girl a hard-eyed stare. "We don't know what's to come of this, so beware and answer no one's questions. Lord Jason will not have a guest gabbled about."

The three nodded reluctantly. What little joy there had been in the task was taken from them. Stoically they struggled, pulled, pushed, and finally heaved with all their might until Lady Joanne lay abed.