Merrie's Hero

by Pippa Greathouse

  Before he could answer, however, Merrie whimpered, suddenly, whispering in her sleep, "I am so sorry…sir…" she mumbled.

  Miss Constance's gaze moved to Francis' face, her eyes narrowing into a scowl. "Francis? What have you done to this child?"

  Francis stared back at her. "I am putting her down for a nap, Miss Constance. Hold tea, if you would be so kind." He moved toward the staircase and began to ascend it with Merrie held fast in his arms.

  But he knew without a doubt that the housekeeper was still standing there, glaring after him, as he carried Merrie up the stairs and into the bedroom and closed the door.

  CHAPTER 7

  I t was almost four, when Merrie stirred in his arms and her eyes fluttered open. He was leaning over her, when she looked up and met his eyes and tried to turn away.

  "No, Merriweather Lynne. You are not allowed to turn away from me."

  She closed her eyes once again but spoke in a whisper, after a moment.

  "You must be so angry with me."

  "Am I?"

  She opened her eyes, uncertainly. "Are you not?"

  "Merrie Lynne, you were forgiven before I even began spanking you."

  She gasped, her eyes wide. "Truly, sir?"

  "Truly. Look at me, little girl." He waited for her to obey and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Now. Fair warning; if it ever happens again, I shall take a strap to your recalcitrant little bottom." He nodded at her wide eyes. That was not acceptable behavior. And you are too adorable a young lady to be trying to beat up on a husband who is twice your size. Is that absolutely clear to you?"

  She nodded, penitently. "Very clear, sir. I shall not do it again."

  "Good. Now, I think perhaps we should get Liliana to dress you for dinner, my beautiful girl. Up you go."

  When Francis led Merrie downstairs to the dining room, Miss Constance was waiting for them.

  But when Francis seated Merrie, and she gave a quiet gasp as her bottom made contact with the chair, Miss Constance turned back. Her eyes lit on Merrie with concern, and then she looked back at Francis with suspicion and displeasure.

  "Are you all right, milady?" she said to Merrie, her voice soft.

  Merrie looked up. She had never heard Miss Constance use that tone of kindness with her before. "I am well, Miss Constance." She smiled. "Thank you for asking."

  Miss Constance looked back at Francis, who was staring at her. He finally looked back at Merrie and smiled down at her. And Miss Constance took that moment to turn to Merrie and wink. Then she turned and walked toward the kitchen, disappearing through the door.

  Merrie watched her go, careful not to let her mouth drop open. When she looked back at Francis, she realized he had not seen it.

  "What is it, my little innocent?" Francis reached for her hand.

  But Merrie only shook her head. "I…was just wondering, sir," she said, as innocently as possible. "What shall we do tomorrow?"

  LILIANA HAD MADE another beautiful gown for her to wear to Mass the following Sunday morning. Geoffrey had informed him that the Kennedy house had been prepared and was ready to move into. Miss Hazel, his housekeeper, had made arrangements for care of the babies while Lucy Grace was at school.

  Francis clapped him on the back. "Geoff, thank you. I shall go and tell Mr. Kennedy he can move in this afternoon, then. And yes, Merrie, my little brat, you may go too," he said, grinning at her.

  Geoffrey threw back his head and laughed as he moved away.

  "Francis," she whispered, as he put her into the carriage, "May we go now? To tell them?"

  "I believe we have time, my little miscreant, before lunch. Are you quite sure? I had thought to put you down for a nap after lunch and then go."

  "I am sure, Francis. And I could not sleep anyway, knowing that their house was ready for them and they were not able to move in. Please?"

  He chuckled. "I believe you are more excited about this than I. All right."

  LUCY GRACE HAD LOOKED out the window in the front room when the coach pulled up, and she quickly ran to meet them. Merrie thought she looked more rested; her little face, however, still appeared wiser and older than her years. Her father had come outside, a moment later, carrying a little girl in each arm. Another little girl and a boy followed onto the front porch. Embarrassed, Mr. Kennedy invited them in.

  "We are unable to stay, sir," Francis said quietly. "But we did wish to let you know the house is ready for you. There will be someone to watch the babies tomorrow, and we can get you moved in whenever you wish. If you could come today, Lucy Grace could start school tomorrow. A wagon will come with her lunch and pick her up and bring her home each day after school."

  His eyes lit up at that.

  "We did not bring much furniture with us," he said, looking back at the house. "We could move in today?"

  "Absolutely. I shall send Elias back with the wagon for you as soon as we get back, with some help for loading it."

  Lucy Grace was bouncing up and down. Merrie could not help but go to her and offer a hug. She was excited when the little girl threw her arms around her waist and held on tightly.

  "Thank you, Lady Adams," she whispered, tears streaming down her little face.

  Those tears had stayed with Merrie all the way home.

  "What is it, my little innocent?" Francis had asked, concerned about her quiet state.

  "Just…that precious child, sir." She looked up into his eyes, her own misting with tears. "And you are the kindest man. I adore you, Francis Adams."

  He had smiled. "I have been given much, my little Merrie. It is important to give as much as I can of it back. So many people are hurting in this world. I would be a wretched man indeed, if I did not try to help."

  His speech affected her more than she could express. She threw her arms around his neck and snuggled against him all the way home.

  "Lunch is ready, Sir Francis," Wendell said, as he opened the door.

  "Yes." But Francis had barely heard him; for in his head, lingered the soft voice of the girl in his arms as he carried her inside; the voice that said, over and over… "I adore you, Francis Adams."

  "FRANCIS?" Merrie looked back over her shoulder that afternoon as he was unbuttoning her gown.

  "Yes, my little innocent?"

  "What shall we do during the holidays? I seem to remember that there was some sort of—celebration happening, when I was young—every year, around Thanksgiving."

  "Merriweather Lynne, I am going to smack your bottom, if you do not be still. It is hard to get hold of these buttons as it is." He waited until she stilled and then continued, "But the answer to your question is yes. The Adams' House hosts a Thanksgiving Dinner every year for the families of all the schoolchildren and their parents. They do not have to come, of course, but they almost always do. They seem to enjoy it. And at Christmas, we have one too—for the staff and the tenants—but we usually have that one on Christmas Eve, and we pass out gifts to all the children—that is always fun. But on Christmas Day, it is just family. Do you think that will be all right with your parents?"

  Her petticoats followed, in a heap around her ankles. Merrie frowned. "I hope so. But I love what you are doing, and I truly wish to be part of it."

  He grinned. "You love my stripping you? I am glad."

  "No, sir," she said with a giggle. "Well…that, too. But I love what you are doing for the children."

  He swatted her bottom, hard, and she squealed. "Merrie Lynne, I believe I told you to be still."

  The chemise came next and he continued.

  "Do you think your parents would agree to come and take part?"

  "I do not know," she said thoughtfully. "But we could ask."

  He was down to her pantaloons now and untied the ribbon that held them, letting them fall.

  "Absolutely. And Merrie—if your parents are upset and insist that you spend it with them, I shall give you the option of doing that. Especially this first year. I do not wish them to feel as if I have stolen their daughter f
rom them. I, unfortunately, will have to be here, to make sure everything goes smoothly."

  He had lifted her by the waist and kicked the garments aside now. Slowly, he turned her back to face him as she spoke again.

  "Oh, but—Francis…" She put a small hand to his cheek. "I would not dream of leaving you to do that alone. You are my family now, sir. And this is my home."

  His eyes darkening, he stared down into hers. "Merriweather Lynne," he said, in a voice that was husky. His hands on her waist drew her close. "I believe those are the most." He kissed her forehead. "Beautiful." And then planted a kiss, on one cheek. "Words." Then the other. "I have ever." Then he moved to her mouth. "Heard."

  He held her away from him for a moment and then whispered down into her mouth as he took it, "Come here, my little innocent. I am taking you again this afternoon. Lifting her, he put her down, gently among the pillows, and then moved over her. His eyes were dilated, now, hers wide and very dark blue. His voice, when he spoke, was a deep growl. "I wanted to be slow…and gentle, with you, my little innocent. But I do not think I can wait."

  He watched her blue eyes widen as he lifted her hips and plunged deeply, roughly, inside her, covering her cry with his mouth. But as he came apart, so did she.

  But a few moments later, holding her to him tightly, he whispered, over her head, "My apologies, my little darling. Next time, I shall be more gentle and slow with you—"

  But her small giggle cut him off, as she raised her head to meet his eyes. "Gentle and slow be damned," she whispered. "I love what you do to me, sir."

  He had thrown his head back and laughed and then swatted her bottom, saying only, "I know I should spank you for that. But, my little girl, fair warning. I shall take that as permission to be as rough with you as I like."

  And she had leaned upward to kiss his mouth, saying, "I should like that, sir. Very much."

  A brow rose. His voice, once again, was a deep growl. "Well, then, my little innocent, be prepared. For I shall do it again." He turned her on her belly and lifted her bottom upward, kissing his way across her bottom and upper thighs, then paused, positioning himself at her folds.

  "Now," he said in a husky growl, as he thrust forward, hard.

  MERRIE WAS STANDING in front of her vanity the next morning when Francis came to get her. Liliana had just finished working her long hair into braids and weaving ribbon through them.

  "Lovely, Liliana," Francis said, before glancing down at his wife. "Turn, little brat."

  Merrie looked up at him and giggled, throwing her arms dramatically out and doing a pirouette before him.

  "I like it. Ready, my little beauty? Miss Constance is waiting breakfast."

  She took his arm and followed him through the bedroom. "Liliana does a wonderful job with hair, but…" She stopped walking.

  When she trailed off, Francis looked down. "But?" he urged her forward.

  "Well, I was just thinking, sir. I could do with a little less hair."

  He frowned. "Absolutely not."

  "But just think, Francis." She had stopped walking once again. "If it were shorter, it would take less time to wash and dry and much less time for Liliana to style and—"

  "I said no, Merriweather Lynne."

  "But—" He had reached down and picked her up in his arms, and she wiggled, trying to get down.

  "You obviously cannot talk and walk at the same time this morning, my little innocent."

  "But Francis, please…be reasonable."

  This time, it was he, who stopped, halfway down the steps. Held in his arms, Merrie's face was inches from his. His narrowed gaze caused her eyes to widen.

  "You shall say nothing more about your hair, my little brat. I have spoken."

  She heaved a disappointed sigh, and he leaned down into her ear. "Do you need to go back upstairs and start this day off with a trip across my knee, Merriweather Lynne?"

  She looked down. "No, sir," she whispered. "I am sorry."

  "All right, then. Please put a smile on before you see Miss Constance. Otherwise, she will glare at me all the way through breakfast today, as well. She has been abrupt with me ever since the last time I spanked you."

  A giggle erupted at the thought of Miss Constance continuing to glare at him. Merrie was unable to suppress it.

  "Hmm. So you like the thought of her standing there and glaring at me?" He grinned.

  She giggled again, and he rolled his eyes.

  This time, however, when they entered the dining room, Miss Constance was obviously pleased. "Breakfast is served," she said. But her mouth was turning up at the corners as she left.

  Francis looked, surprised, toward Merrie and winked at her attempt to hide her mirth.

  It did not work.

  THEY WERE in the carriage on the way to the school when she glanced out the window. "Which school shall we visit today, sir?"

  "I thought to visit Mr. Moreton's school and see if Miss Barton has arrived yet. Miss Constance had the cook prepare plenty of lunches and treats."

  Again, Jackson had parked several hundred yards from the schoolhouse. Francis reached for Merrie, lifting her down, and then pulled the baskets out, handing one to her and holding the other. Slowly, they approached, quietly climbing the steps.

  Suddenly, they heard Mr. Moreton's voice, loud and ferocious. "Brent! This is the third time I have found you failing to pay attention! Come to the front of the class. Miss Barton will give you six strokes of the cane."

  Merrie gasped, and Francis put a silencing finger to her lips. Moving the basket to his other hand, he prepared to open the door. He stopped, however, right before opening it, when another fierce and loud voice was heard inside the classroom.

  "I absolutely shall not, Mr. Moreton! And neither will you!"

  Merrie's wide blue eyes met Francis' surprised dark brown ones. They waited. A moment later, the voice continued once again, softer now.

  "These children are tired, Mr. Moreton. Most of them have done a day's work before they get here. And I believe it is now past time for their lunch. Children, you may go eat now."

  Francis could hear the children rising from their seats and chose that moment to open the door and send Merrie in ahead of him.

  Miss Barton was standing, hands on her hips, glaring at the male teacher. Merrie stared from one to the other. Miss Barton was not at all what she had expected; she was all of five feet tall, and probably did not weigh a hundred pounds. Her long dark chestnut hair was put up in a snood at the base of her neck. Merrie could not believe that such a big voice had come from such a tiny young woman. But finally, Miss Barton looked from her to Francis. Her expression had changed from anger to sadness.

  "Some of the children have no lunches with them," she said, with tears in her eyes. "Is there a place in town where I could go to buy something for them? I brought mine, but it is only one, among seven children who have nothing."

  "Oh, but there is no need." Merrie held out one of the baskets. "Francis and I brought lunches for the children—today. We cannot be here every day, but—"

  The small young woman took the baskets gratefully. "Thank you! I shall try to make sure that, tomorrow, I bring something for them. May I?"

  Francis handed her the other basket. "There are treats in them, as well. Be our guest."

  Miss Barton flashed them both a huge, beautiful smile as she ran outside and called to the children. Mr. Moreton, however, stared after her, mute. None of them spoke, until she had returned. "I gave them the treats, too. And told them they could eat them first if they wanted."

  "Miss Barton…" Mr. Moreton's voice was not as stern as it had been the previous week with Merrie, but he stood a head taller than the new little teacher. "It is important for you to know that I shall not tolerate disrespect toward me in front of my class. If necessary, you shall receive a taste of my cane. Do you understand that?"

  "And I believe, sir, that I would fight you in front of them, too, if you tried." She stood before him, staring up into his fac
e. But a moment later, a sheepish expression crossed her face and she said, thoughtfully, "I apologize, sir, for challenging you in front of your class. I should have dismissed them first. But you see…" She paused, as her voice grew softer, "I was a hungry child once, who tried to learn. I would be up at three, to get the fires going and fix something to eat, so that my brothers and sisters did not have to wake up to a cold house. And I often fell asleep in class. If I had not had someone—a teacher—to take up for me and share her lunch with me and let me take a few moments here and there to rest…" She turned, meeting Merrie's eyes now. "I would never have been able to finish school." Then, she turned to Francis. "I realize, sir—I have not given you a very professional picture today. But I promise you, I truly am a good teacher."

  There was a silence in the room for a few moments. Francis broke it.

  "Miss Barton. What you have given my wife and me today is the picture of a teacher who loves her students dearly, even on her first day of teaching. Of one who loves them enough that she is willing to sacrifice for them, to see that they get what they need. You cannot know how much that means to us. We are very pleased."

  They left a few moments later, but not before Francis had pressed money into her hand to use for supplies, so she would be able to make extra lunches for the children. He shook Mr. Moreton's hand, as Merrie threw her arms around the new teacher.

  "Thank you, Lady Adams—"

  "Just call me Merrie, Miss—"

  "Cinderella,"

  They both laughed, and Merrie said goodbye as Francis took her toward the carriage.

  "She's spunky!" She giggled, looking up at Francis.

  "Quite like another little girl I know." He nodded, grinning. "Intimately." He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "I swear, my little hellion, when I heard her voice coming from inside that room, I had to look down, to make sure you were still beside me."

  Merrie stuck out her tongue, and he raised a brow.

  "Well…" Merrie glanced backward, out the window. "I do feel much better for the children, now that she is here. And I will be glad when Mr. Moreton is gone."