Dignity and Depravity

Chapter XXIII

Thomas Archer had been wandering the gardens of Eagleton Manor for at least three quarters of an hour. This may not have been a long by any estimable passage of time, but the brisk walk had served its purpose well. Clarity of mind and heart had been hidden in the passageways and Thomas now felt more at ease. The discord that had been present in the household this morning now seemed like nothing but a distant echo. Thomas was thankful, as he often struggled with such relational complexities.

Although his aunt had been most kind and exceedingly fond of him, Thomas retained some of the trepidation and unease that arose from being orphaned at a young age. The unconditional love that normally arises from parentage had been violently stripped away.
Despite the wound having been staunched by a dressing of tenderness provided by his aunt, the detachment that had occurred could not be undone. Thomas' gratitude had never stamped out his sense that it would be both impudent and imprudent to believe that that his fortunes could not be reversed once more, leaving him destitute and alone.

Even the camaraderie afforded in the militia could not dissuade the nagging voice of fear that tugged at his innards: friendship may breed intimacy but it does not always bring about the deepest of affection. Therefore, Thomas had always approached relationships with his guard held high until he could be sure of the other individuals countenance. This protective stance had been invaluable during the conflict that arose before quitting the militia and had given him strength to leave his post.

Thomas had never imagined that this resolve would crumble when faced with such as welcoming environment as Eagleton Manor.
He remained astonished that his cousin John had opened his household to a near complete stranger based on a claim of distant familial relation. For all John could have known, Thomas may have been seeking to make a chub of him through false pretenses. In fact, Thomas had been exceptionally prepared for a complete refusal of accommodation on John's part. John's actions has struck a deep chord within Thomas and had taught an apt lesson: well-timed kindness and generosity is invaluable.

John's liberality, however, was not the only causation for the change that had occurred within Thomas' heart. There was no doubt that the ineffable Mrs. Dyer had had the most profound impact. For the first time in his life, Thomas had been struck by the beauteous bloom of romantic affection. As ill-conceived and untimely as it may be to be so struck by a married woman, he was thankful to Mrs. Dyer. The long shadow of protection over his heart had veiled a sweet potential for love, and shedding that mournful shroud has left Thomas hopeful for his future.

Now as his feet walked through the garden, Thomas' mind meandered and he began to review the faces of the women he had seen at the ball. Although there were many fine posies waiting to be plucked, there was no bud had he found as tempting as the mistress of Eagleton. Fate had pricked him with a fickle thorn. Yet, thought Thomas, was there not some spark that passed between us at the ball?

Pondering this very thought, Thomas stopped his perambulation.  Nearby there was a fertile rose bush, close to the entrance of the courtyard in which he had been walking, and it caught his eye.  As he touched the rosy petals, soft and fragrant between his finger tips, he was reminded of the soft colour of Mrs Dyer's lips. The white pistils were reminiscent of her pale skin and the green of the leaves the hue of her fanciful eyes.  Thomas closed his own and smiled wanly, inwardly admitting defeat. The crown of his affection has been placed on one pedestal alone, and it would not easily be displaced.

Suddenly, a terribly cry cut through the air piercing Thomas' heart with unequivocal fear. In haste he dropped the rose and lanced his finger on a nearby thorn. Ignoring the wound, Thomas raced in the direction of the voice.  His palms were slick with moisture and trepidation.

It took only moments before Thomas had rounded the corner and saw a body lying prostrate on the ground near the entrance to the park. From this distance, one could only see that it was a woman that was in distress based her attire. No detail of who it was could be ascertained as the woman's face was not visible. Thomas immediately ran towards the figure, dropping his hat and walking stick in his expedition.

As he neared the woman, it became obvious that she was in agony. Moans of pain were intermingled with choruses of the word "no" said repeatedly. What could have befallen such a creature that she should suffer so? thought Thomas. Any chance of impropriety must surely be outweighed by my need to aide such a wretched creature, he continued. As I gentleman and former officer I feel obliged.

Therefore, it was with a pure heart and tremendous sense of duty that Thomas approached the fallen figure and spoke gently.

"Miss, my name is Thomas Archer and I am staying at Eagleton Manor. You appear to be in some considerable distress, may I assist you?"

Another cry rose up seemingly from the ground. The form was wound so tightly as a spasm took hold of each muscle and sinew. Thomas noted fingers of the woman's left hand were gripping deeply into the soil so as to cause mounds of dirt to collect under the nails. The ends of her petticoats were tracked through with a collection of mire, sticks and nettles and her bonnet lay askew between her shoulders.

It was in this moment of quiet examination that Thomas could appreciate some of the more minute details of the figure before him. The shine and curl of the fair locks that had tumbled free from their coil. The delicate shade of green ribbon that skirted the edge of the bonnet. It was familiar in a most worrisome way. Thomas recalled the exact colour as he had previously admired how it complimented the eyes of the wearer so immaculately!

"Good Lord!" Thomas exclaimed. "Mrs. Dyer!  Is that you?"

A sob ebbed fourth as the woman turned her head. A sheen of perspiration covered her brow and her complexion was deeply reddened and dappled with white, but there was no mistaking the mistress of Eagleton Manor.  

It was also obvious that something significant had occurred. Mrs. Dyer's normally keen eyes were dulled.  Pools of sadness and loneliness stared back at Thomas.  He shuddered, having often encountered the same emotions reflected in his own eyes when peering in the looking glass.  Then quickly a veil was pulled across as Mrs. Dyer sought to regain her self-possession.

"Mr. Archer," Mrs. Dyer replied, her voice nearly a whisper.  "I had not intended to present myself as such a slattern within ames-ace of my own home..." She paused and grimaced, fighting the deep urge to scream as her body was wracked with tremulous pain.  "If I may take up your offer of your kindness..." 

"Of course," replied Thomas immediately as he dropped to his knees on the ground beside Mrs. Dyer.  He watches helplessly as she suffered another attack.  "How may I be of service?" 

Amelia hesitated before slowly reaching towards Thomas to steady herself.  As Thomas gripped her right hand he noted her digits were marred with blood.  Alarmed, Thomas' eyes cascaded over the rest of Mrs. Dyer's person.  It was then that he noted that not only were her petticoats soiled, but the front of her pinafore was streaked with red.  Blood, he concluded in horror. 

Sending Mr. Archer had correctly surmised the nature of what was occurring, Amelia hung her head. She had not wanted to accept the truth, but now it could not be avoided. Resignedly, she raised her eyes to look at Thomas' and she was astonished to see a fierce conviction there.

Holding the gaze, her simply said "Hold firmly to me, and I shall carry hope for you", and then he picked her up in his arms and carried her towards the manor house.