Armored Hearts (3 page)

He watched from the open door of the kitchen. Sarah sat in a chair, cradling Tabitha in her lap. Sarah’s orange curls were coming loose from her bun. “There’s na ye can do fer the folk, but pray. God will hear yer prayers, just as Reverend Piper said.”

Tabitha sat back on the woman’s lap and wiped her wet eyes. “How do you know?”

Sarah pushed blonde hair that had fallen into Tabitha’s face behind the little girl’s ear. “Because the Good Book says the prayers of the righteous avails much and ye, me sweet girl, ’ave a good and righteous heart.”

Boot steps moved toward the two of them from the other side of the kitchen. Gareth had not realized Thompton was there, too, until the tall lanky man with brown hair knelt in front of Tabitha and took her small hand in his. “It also says the angels assigned to wee lads and lasses go before the throne of the Almighty daily. So ye say yer peace to God and He will get the message. And ye can sleep well knowin’ God heard ye.”

Thompton grabbed Tabitha under the arms, picked her up, and swung her in a circle about the room, causing her to giggle with delight before setting her on the floor and kneeling again before her. “And ye need be headin’ to bed and sleep soundly, because not only do God’s angels be watchin’ over ye, but also the good fairies.”

Tabitha grabbed the man around the neck and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before giving one to Sarah.

“I’ll be up to tuck ye in after I finish in here,” Sarah said as she made her way to a stack of dishes.

Tabitha nearly ran into Gareth when she darted into the hall. Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry! I forgot to come watch for you.”

Gareth smiled at his little aunt. “That’s all right. I wasn’t quite ready to go up yet anyway.” He wheeled around and headed back in the direction he’d come from with Tabitha beside him.

“Why are you so worried about the townspeople?” Gareth asked as they headed for the stairs.

Tabitha shrugged, “I don’t know. I guess I think about how awful it must be to have just enough to get by and have someone come and take it from you. It’s just wrong.” She ran around the stairs, then up them and back. She smiled and said in a loud whisper, “All’s clear.”

Gareth smiled back and took flight from his chair to his chamber door. The orange tabby appeared beside him and raced him up the stairs. Tabitha soon joined him in his chamber, the orange tabby cradled in her arms. She set it down, plopped herself in the wing chair, and picked up his math book. He was supposed to finish working some numbers for Mr. Strong before his time of instruction the next day.

“Can I finish these for you?” She glanced up under long, dark lashes.

“That would be cheating. Besides those are too hard for you, and arithmetic isn’t healthy for the female mind.”

“That’s stupid and not true. I like numbers. Miss Duncan is teaching me higher arithmetic. She says I might need it someday if I end up a governess like her.”

Gareth dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. “You’ll find some gentleman to marry you and make you a lady. You won’t need to think at all then.”

Her face scrunched. “Maybe I don’t want that. I like to think about more than pretty dresses and my hair. I’d rather spend my days teaching children than worrying about what color dress I should wear.”

Honestly, he couldn’t imagine a girl who chewed her fingernails and hated having her hair braided would care about the color of her dress.

The cat pounced from the floor back into her lap, and she patted it absentmindedly. She let out a sigh. “I wish there was some way I could help the people in town.”

Gareth furrowed his brow and floated a few feet above his bed. He liked the feeling of weightlessness that came from not touching the ground or his furniture.

Tabitha bowed her head in what looked like a silent prayer before opening her eyes and starting on Gareth’s arithmetic anyway. “The way our finances are going, I will probably need to look for employment by my sixteenth birthday.”

“Have you been looking in Grandfather’s books again?”

“I can’t help it. Working numbers is soothing.” Tabitha pouted. “We are barely hanging on. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why Sarah and Thompton stay. Did you know Lord Gerald had to cut their pay by half and they stayed anyway?”

Gareth blinked hard and lowered himself back to the bed. He had not known that. No wonder the other staff had left. He did know Grandfather had let out his home in London this year rather than visit for the season. They had little more than a title and the farmlands barley produced. Times were changing, just like the turn of the century. Those in trade had more in their bank accounts than their landlords. If Tabitha were legitimate, she would be Lady Smyth, daughter of an Earl. That could help her secure a good union when she became of marrying age. But instead she was penniless Miss Fitzgerald of dubious origins.

Gareth flew to his wardrobe and pulled out his coat.

“Will you take me flying tonight?”

“Not tonight. I’m going to assess the situation over on the east side.”

Tabitha leapt up from the chair, and the cat hopped to the floor. It eyed her indignantly. The girl looked around as if someone would hear her, and asked in a harsh whisper, “Where the robberies are happening?”

He shrugged and buttoned his coat. “You were so worried about them, and it got me thinking. Those folks won’t get much attention from the authorities. They’re too low in rank for anyone to really care. Unless Grandfather pays a call to the authorities on their behalf…but we both know he never will.”

Tabitha rushed in front of him. “But the robbers could be armed. You could get hurt.”

Gareth flew to the balcony doors. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t out fly a bullet.”

He shrugged. “It’s dark.”

Her voice rose, and she no longer spoke in a whisper. “How would you come home and explain a bullet wound to Lord Pensees? Or what if someone saw you and told?”

Gareth stopped and bit his lip. She was right; he shouldn’t risk it.

Tabitha’s face lit up. “I have an idea.”

She ran to the door, stepping over the cat. The orange tabby darted under his bed. She stepped out into the hall and peeked back in with a mischievous smile. “All’s clear. Follow me.”

Gareth threw up his hands but relented. When they reached the door to the attic, he had to ask, “Where are we going?”

“I told you. I have an idea.”

They reached the top of the attic stairs, Gareth reining in his flying pace to wait for Tabitha. She rushed over to a corner and pulled a sheet off of a suit of armor. “You could wear this.”

Gareth parked himself on top of an old wardrobe. He laughed. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Why not? You’d be bullet proof. No one would recognize you. And if anyone sees you, no one’s going to believe a story about a flying knight.”

Gareth shook his head, but a smile formed on his lips. She might have something. She usually did. Tabitha was the smartest person Gareth knew, even if she were a girl. All the ladies he’d ever met bored him within minutes of a conversation’s beginning. Perhaps it was being trapped in the chair and on the country estate that made Gareth long for conversation that went beyond the current fashion and silly giggles. Another reason to swear off the idea of matrimony.

But Tabitha would need to marry well. Grandfather discouraged her in flaunting her intelligence. Gareth had to agree. Most gentlemen were stupid and only interested in cards and all things trivial. No mindless gentleman would want a wife who was so obviously his intellectual superior. Her origins and sharp mind were two strikes against her. But she was pretty and sweet natured. Some man would be able to see pass the other issues.

Gareth flew down from where he’d perched and picked up the sword that went with the suit. The tarnished blade felt heavy and awkward. Mr. Strong had been teaching him fencing as best he could with Gareth in a chair. He’d said it was part of a proper and well rounded education. Gareth hadn’t paid much attention, thinking swordplay a foolish endeavor for a cripple. Perhaps just holding the sword would be enough to frighten criminals away. He surveyed the suit again and turned to Tabitha.

“Help me put it on over my clothes.”

***

Gareth made his way to the east side of the village, slower than usual due to the extra weight. The armor’s visor kept falling over his eyes, making visibility difficult. Sweat beaded on his forehead in the stifling lack of airflow.

At his rate of flight, it still didn’t take long to reach the other side of town. He flew over one farm and saw nothing out of order. He did the same over at the Miller place. He’d been there with Sarah to get apples as a child. Nothing.

Just as he was about to give up, three young men came out of a shed, carrying tools. Gareth had never confronted anyone before, not really. He’d been surly to the help and to his grandfather all his life, but that was different.

He landed in the midst of them. They were around his age but he didn’t recognize any of them from church or the dinner parties he attended at Greenview.

“Put them back.” Gareth deepened his voice to sound older and pointed with the sword.

The boys froze; their jaws dropped and eyes widened.

“I said, Put. Them. Back.” His tone was controlled but with true power.

The tallest, a thin boy, backed away, tripping over a red-haired boy who had frozen in place. The tall one’s tweed cap flew from his head, and he let out a sharp cry as he fell on his backside. He scrambled to his feet, snatched his cap, and sprinted down the lane.

“I said, PUT. THEM. BACK.” Gareth’s voice echoed through the suit, and he wondered if it boomed as loud outside of it.

The stocky boy holding the tools shook his head vigorously and whimpered. His wide eyes shone in the moonlight, and he suddenly looked younger than Gareth had thought at first. In desperation, the boy tried handing the bundle to the frozen boy, but they fell at his feet. With a cry of frustration, he picked the tools back up and tried to give them to the boy again, but they fell once more. He shrugged and bolted after the first boy.

Blinking hard, the frozen one seemed to realize he stood alone. His nose crinkled, joining the freckles, and his eyes looked black. He backed away, picking up speed with each step. He stepped into an irrigation ditch on the side of the road and fell into the mud. His dark eyes never left Gareth as he fumbled to his feet and started running backwards again. He fell twice more.

Gareth rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, at least turn around and watch where you’re going.”

The boy nodded in agreement, eyes still wide. “Yes, right.” And then took the advice by turning and tearing after his friends. The boy’s backside was covered in brown mud, and Gareth chuckled.

He glanced at the scattered tools at his feet and considered picking them up. The armor would rattle and bump into something and probably get him caught. He shook his head. That would never do. At least the owner would find them in his yard and not gone.

***

When Gareth got home, he flew to Tabitha’s balcony instead of his own. The orange cat sat on the balcony, looking out as if waiting for him. It followed him into Tabitha’s room where his aunt lay on her bed with a book. The mutt was tucked into her side. She glanced up when he pushed open her doors.

“Did you find anything?” She jumped up and ran to him.

“Yes. I stopped some boys from taking tools at the Martin place.”

“Did they see you? Did you have to fight them?”

Gareth placed the helmet on a table in the corner and began removing the rest. The cool air licked the sweat away and made him feel instant relief. “Yes, they saw me, but I didn’t have to fight them.”

Tabitha helped him out of the armor. “I bet they were scared to death when they saw you.”

Gareth laughed. “They were. All three of them ran.”

“Still, be careful. At some point, someone’s going to challenge you with either a fist or a gun. Not everyone will run from a flying knight.”

“I have my sword. Now that I have a reason to learn fencing, I’ll take my practice with Mr. Strong seriously.”

He caught the blue stone as it fell from his waistcoat when he bent to pull off a metal legging. His eyes darted to Tabitha who didn’t seem to notice his secret treasure. The blue stone had lost the smell of flowers long ago, but it had become his good luck charm whenever he flew out. Now he needed that sort of thing more than ever before.

***

Gareth wheeled himself to Mr. Strong’s a half hour earlier than usual. He wanted to work more with the sword. He had pushed his way up the ramp to the door of Strong’s cottage when Sarah came out, tugging her cardigan over her arms.

“Oh, Lord Smyth!” Sarah’s worried green eyes were huge before she dropped her gaze to her rumpled skirt and began smoothing out the wrinkles. Her hands fluttered to her long red hair. It hung loose about her shoulders which was uncommon. She pulled pins from it and stuck them in her teeth before scooping her hair up with both hands, twisting it into a hasty bun and fastening it with the pins from her mouth. “Yer early.”

Gareth narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Sarah blinked several times as she bit her lip. “I came to deliver some laundry to Mr. Strong and tidy up a bit.”

Gareth narrowed his eyes. “You’re working for Mr. Strong, too?”

“Well, after yer grandfather had to cut me pay…”

Heat rose to Gareth’s cheeks. Talking about the family’s financial problems wasn’t polite. “Yes, well, I came early to work on some numbers a little more.”

“Numbers? Yes. Well. Have at it. I’ll see ye later at yer grandfather’s. Best knock before entering, since yer early.” Sarah turned on her heel and left in haste.

Gareth knocked on the door three times as was his habit.

“Enter,” a shaking voice called through the door.

Gareth turned the knob and pushed the door open before wheeling himself in. He liked how Mr. Strong didn’t rush to assist him but left it to him to do things on his own.

“Lord Smyth, you’re early.”

Gareth wheeled himself behind the door so he could push it shut. “Yes, I wanted some extra time to work on our fencing.”