by Susan Thomas
His wife smiled her complete agreement and Jacob McMorran made clear his instructions to Standing. He must watch the Basetti house most carefully. He was to find out exactly which of the trains to New York was the one his daughter-in-law had taken. A telegram would then be sent to McMorran agents in New York to meet the train with police officers and people from the asylum. What could be more insane than taking Alice from wealth and a good home to live in some slum in New York?
All went as Jacob McMorran had planned. His foolish daughter in law, with Alice their granddaughter, caught the train to New York. Soon his telegrams were on their way to his primed and prepared agents; Cecelia would never leave the station a free woman. Alice would be cared for by two well qualified nurses until he and his wife could get there. In fact, it was not until his arrival in the city that he discovered the quite shocking news that Cecelia McMorran had disappeared. She had not arrived on the expected train nor on any subsequent one.
Jacob could not believe he had been outwitted. He had the city scoured to see if she had slipped past those watching for her. He wasted a week in that fruitless enterprise before finally admitting she must have got off the train somewhere along the route. Now the trail would be very cold indeed.
---oOo---
Cecelia was in fact well aware that she was being watched. Martha's husband had a great deal more loyalty from his employees than Mr. McMorran could envisage. Mr. Basetti disliked the establishment figures in his town. His business was successful and he was wealthy but not accepted in polite society. He was the son of a poor Italian immigrant and a Roman Catholic. Both those were despised by the establishment. He had already played a part in helping Elizabeth Franklyn Jones escape the clutches of Rankin Blake and it would give him great pleasure to make fools of the McMorrans. He was prepared to give his wife's good friend money and advice and he helped lay plans for her escape.
Cecelia and Alice did leave on the New York train but once they disembarked did not head straight for Kirkham. Their journey took several detours each time with a careful check to make sure they were not followed. Mr. Basetti's generous gift of money meant they could stay at hotels to break the journey and were able to buy clothes and luggage so no suspicion would greet their arrival.
As the train pulled into Kirkham, Cecelia reminded herself that she was now Cecelia Masters. She was certain that she had not been followed, and given the torturous nature of the journey it was unlikely that anyone would be able to track her down. Dr. Davies had promised her that she would be met at the station so she scanned the waiting faces anxiously. It was easy to discount those with luggage, but among them was a man standing with a younger woman and no luggage. That had to be Dr. Davies and someone helping him.
The man was of middle height but broad shouldered and clearly well built. He was wearing a long dark coat, bow tie, linen shirt with collar, and gray trousers. He had long brown hair down to his shoulders which might have looked odd on another man but seemed to suit him very well. The girl next to him was only slightly shorter than him. She had flaxen hair arranged in two long plaits. Her dress was rather plain, in a dull gray color, with a severe line of buttons from neck to waist. Cecelia had flash of insight that the girl had not chosen the dress herself and would prefer a more colorful outfit.
Cecelia was handed down by the man she had judged correctly to be Dr. Davies. The girl helped Alice down with a warm and welcoming smile.
"Mrs. Masters, welcome to Kirkham. I do hope your journey has not been too arduous. This is my volunteer assistant and nurse, Miss Marta Hartman. Miss Hartman has kindly volunteered to assist you settle into your new home."
Cecelia was astonished at the way Dr. Davies spoke. He was not American but had a sort of sing-song accent that she couldn't place. However, she could not fault his manners. He loaded all her luggage into a carriage and handed her up onto a seat while Marta chatted easily to Alice and lifted her up beside her mother. Cecelia couldn't help noticing Marta's manner. It screamed to her that she regarded Dr. Davies as hers, and while polite, she was very cold with Cecelia herself.
The station was not far out of town and the ride was short. Cecelia looked around with interest. She was astonished that there was not a single building made of brick; all were wooden clapboard even the church. She had no idea why, but she hadn't expected there to be trees, but trees there were, providing shade and making the town look very pretty. She was further surprised that the main street was neatly paved and when she commented on this Dr. Davies rather proudly told her it was a recent development. He then pointed out the lamps that hung along main street.
"Street lighting, oil of course, but another new thing. We are indeed a progressive little town."
The dress shop was a neat and pretty establishment. The sign named it, 'Lucille Bannon. Dressmaker and Seamstress', although Dr. Davies told her that Lucille had now married and was Lucille Drake. The entrance to the kitchen was up a side alley and Cecelia was hugely relieved when she walked in. It was extremely clean with whitewashed walls. There was a large stone sink with a pump directly over it. A cast iron cooking range also heated a tank above which would provide water for washing and baths. There was a large table with chairs around for meals and working, and there was even a rocking chair with cushions, and another comfortable chair. A small dresser had crockery on display while a few cooking pots hung on the wall near the range. A rag rug on the floor completed the picture.
The bedrooms upstairs were also delightful. Alice was allowed to unpack all her dolls and take them up to her bedroom where she began to busily organize her little family. Cecelia took the private moment to speak to Marta.
"If I am any judge, Marta, you and Dr. Davies may be courting."
The girl flushed. "No, not yet. My father doesn't approve of the match and Iestyn is worried I am too young for him."
"But you love him, don't you?"
"Yes..."
"And you fear I might take him away from you. Don't you?"
"Well you're a nurse and all. Besides he is fearful that I am nineteen while he is thirty-four, and what with my father disapproving..."
"Rest easy. I am only recently widowed and have no desire to remarry. I promise you that I have no intentions towards him. In fact, I'll do everything I can to help you if that's what you want."
To Cecelia's surprise Marta burst into tears and threw herself into her arms. Clearly the younger woman had been holding her emotions behind a dam that had just broken.
Chapter Two
Marta Hartman drove the little cart with which she used for her egg deliveries back into her father's farm. Her father limped out of the barn and watched her climb down.
"Well Marta, has the nurse arrived?"
"She has Papa. She is a very pleasant lady with a sweet little girl."
"So, I can expect you back helping all the time now?"
"I shall have to help Mrs. Masters get settled."
Her father sighed. "I know what game you play, young Marta. You have hopes of marriage with the good doctor. Yes, I owe him much. Probably my life and my leg too. I owe the man but I am not going to let him marry you even should he want it. You will marry Paul Hoffman. It was agreed when you were yet children. That way the farms will be merged one day. This is as it should be, plus the Hoffmans are good German stock."
"Papa, it was agreed by you and Paul's father. Paul and I have not agreed to it and neither of us want it. It makes no difference he is of German blood, we are Americans now. Anyway, I don't want to be a farmer's wife. I want more than that."
"What you want! You think you can tell me what you want? You will do as I say. I am your papa and you will be obedient. Where do you get these notions? You will not go back to Dr. Davies. He has his nurse now and that is good. No more playing at nurse."
Marta was frustrated. She had begun helping Dr. Davies when her father had fallen from the barn roof. He had not been expected to survive even the journey to the town's new doctor let alone beyond that. However
, he had survived the journey and Dr. Davies had, in the eyes of everyone, worked a miracle in not only saving his life but stubbornly refusing to amputate his leg. Instead he had worked long and hard on the shattered leg and, although her father limped, he could still manage all the jobs he had previously done. He had, however, required long hours of nursing which Marta had carried out under the doctor's direction and she had found helping the young doctor challenging and interesting.
She had found Dr. Davies himself far more than challenging and interesting. She had fallen headlong in love with the man. He was passionate, dedicated and hardworking but there was nothing soft about him. He had gone down the mine at a frighteningly early age but had taught himself to the point where he had been accepted to study to be a doctor. She loved both him and the day to day challenges of helping him. She longed to be his wife and support him in his work. She was sure the doctor cared for her, and was sure that if her father simply gave his blessing he would propose, but her father was stuck on his twin obsessions of keeping the family German and one day merging the Hoffman and Hartman farms.
Now all her frustration boiled up at her father's words, 'No more playing nurse'.
"Playing! Playing! I wasn't playing when I changed your dressings day after day. I wasn't playing when I did everything the doctor told me to bring your fever down. I wasn't playing when I gave you those pain-killing drugs. Don't forget he was busy with other patients and I had to follow his instructions. I haven't been playing at helping him. I have been helping him. As to Paul, he doesn't want me, and I don't want him, and I won't marry him. I will not do it and you can't make me."
"You defy me, girl! You show disrespect and you are disobedient. I know how to deal with that. See to your horse and then wait in the barn. I shall teach you to be obedient and respectful to your papa."
As Marta unhitched the horse from the wagon, tears rolled down her face. They continued as she pushed the wagon, not back into its usual place, but in another so that she could lean over the back for her whipping. Papa had whipped her in that position since she was about thirteen. Then she saw to her horse's needs. She had gone too far she knew. Papa was not a man to defy openly. She should have been more careful and now she would pay. He would give her a good whipping for sure and sitting to eat her meal tonight would not be easy.
Papa would not come in to the barn until he was ready. He wouldn't be that long, but he would expect her ready to take her punishment, which, now she had cooled down, she realized that she deserved. It was sinful to be so disrespectful and defiant towards a father. After her punishment, she would find ways to get him to change his mind. Perhaps she and Paul could persuade their fathers between them, for Paul had no more desire to marry her than she to marry him.
Her dress was far too heavy for her to simply raise the skirts for her whipping. Experience had taught her that. With a heavy sigh, Marta began unbuttoning the bodice of her dress. No matter how much she deserved her punishment, it was going to hurt. She struggled out of her dress and hung it carefully over the side of the cart. She was no town girl with layers of underclothing; she had only a simple shift and a pair of loose drawers. She'd never worn a corset and often wondered how women managed in them. With another sigh, she undid the ties of her drawers and let them fall before taking them off and hanging them with the dress. She lowered the back of the cart and now was ready to bend over it and take her punishment.
No matter what her father said, she would marry her doctor. She whispered his strange name 'Iestyn'. Just whispering it like that sent tingles thorough her whole body. She longed to be his wife and give herself to him again and again. She sensed he would be a lusty man and that is what she wanted. She had desires shameful in a single woman but surely not if she were married. Just thinking about him like that aroused her and she knew she must stop, but it was so pleasurable to do so. At that point, her father came in, saving her from more lustful thoughts.
"Papa, I am sorry for my words and behavior. Will you forgive me?"
"I will forgive you, but first I will whip you." He accompanied his words by removing his belt. The sssh sound chilled the air.
Marta sighed again and turned around to bend over the back of the cart. Her father stepped forward and tugged her shift upwards and onto her back exposing her legs and bottom. Her tears began again and dripped down onto the back of the cart. She tried hard to occupy her mind and away from her whipping. Would Iestyn spank her when they were married? Probably, most men in Kirkham punished their wives. Why as she had got older, and stayed up later, she had even heard her own mama getting spanked late at night.
A huge cracking sound filled the barn; there was a hideous blow across the middle of her bottom and an intense deep hot pain. Marta cried out. She immediately felt ashamed, for the Hartman girls were expected to take their punishments bravely. The next second there was another blow and another burning pain as bad as the first. Marta jerked against the cart's tail and cried out even louder. At the third she burst into tears. She guessed her father would give her nineteen so they had barely started. She seemed unable to control herself. Each lash of her father's belt seemed to burn itself into her bottom and she was not being brave at all, but screeching and crying, the tears raining down on the cart.
Marta did not understand her reaction. She did not understand how emotional she was with love for Dr. Davies and fear that her father would have his way and marry her off to Paul. As the tenth stroke cracked down hard on the softness of her bottom she screeched even louder and stood up abruptly. Tears flowed down her face.
"Papa, please..."
To her surprise her father was not angry. "Marta, I understand. You think you want to marry this man. No matter he is older, you think you are in love. Yes?"
Marta nodded.
"Your mother too was the same. Our parents made us marry. We did not want it but we were obedient. Now we look at those we would have married, if we had been allowed, and are pleased our parents were strict. You will thank me one day. Now I punish you for your defiance and rudeness. Yes."
"Yes Papa."
Calmer now, Marta bent back in position resolving that she would take her remaining nine lashes bravely.
Crack! The burning line landing on top of her whipped bottom hurt but she turned her yell into a sort of panting. Dr. Davies taught women in labor to pant their way through the pain. She had assisted and now she panted her way through the intense burning.
Crack! Crack! She yelled out and then turned the cry into panting... riding with the effect of the punishing lash. Crack! Crack! Each lash brought with it a shriek but swiftly turned into panting as she rode the pain of punishment. The heat and pain of one of her father's whippings were not easy to bear but she was borne up by the fact she deserved it and his gentleness when she had jumped up. That he loved her she didn't doubt.
Crack! Crack! Each lash was more painful than the last for the belt landed on an already well whipped bottom. Each lash wrung a cry from her followed by desperate panting as she worked through the crest of the pain. Her tears flowed faster than ever and dampened the wooden floor of the cart. The last two blows seemed nigh on intolerable to her. Her screech at each one filled the barn and was followed by her desperate panting, but at last her whipping was over.
Her father allowed her to stand upright but she was unable to stand still. She paced around holding her bottom, writhing as she paced, until the fire in her bottom reduced. Her father watched her. Finally, she turned to face him. Her face red and wet with crying.
"I am sorry Papa."
"I know. We will talk more about your marriage another time. Now no more of this doctor nonsense. Get dressed, wash yourself and come in for the meal your mama has made."
---oOo---
Cecelia was busy in the doctor's surgery. Dr. Davies was out visiting a sick and fevered child at some distance away and would likely not be back until the next day. She would have to deal with any minor problems, and, in the event of anything more serious,
manage until the doctor returned. Cecelia was cleaning out cupboards and taking stock as she did so. Marta had evidently done a wonderful job, but her father would only allow her a limited time at the surgery, and nothing was up the high standard Cecelia had been trained to observe. From time to time she glanced out of the window into the small plot at the back. There under the shade of some fruit trees Alice was playing happily. Alice had found the journey very wearisome, and loved the freedom of playing out in the garden, but Cee knew she would have to find some playmates for her little girl.
It was that point that a frantic man burst in with a little girl in his arms. "I know the doctor isn't here, but can you help? My Julia is running a fever and I don't know what to do."
Cecelia calmed him down and took the little girl from him. She judged her about the same age as Alice and indeed the child was red faced and sweaty. She swiftly discovered why. It was a hot day and the poor girl had layers of clothing on.
"Well no wonder she's so hot. My word, she's dressed for a harsh winter back East and here it is a hot day in the West. What was her mother thinking about?"
"I dressed her. I am a widower and I have moved from the East. I guess I really don't know much about looking after children."
"Well, I am sorry for your sadness, but now I am going to take a lot of this clothing off then I'm going to sponge her down and..." An idea came into Cecelia's head. "Now Julia looks the same age as my Alice. See I've just got her in a shift out there in the garden. Perfectly decent for a five-year-old in an enclosed garden, and it is helping her keep cool. When I've got Julia cool, why don't we just leave her in a shift, and let her play with Alice under the shade of the trees. I can keep an eye on them while you go on about your work. Would you like to do that Julia?"
