Chapter 12.
A Chink in the Armor.

At noon the next day, Abigail led four of her students towards one of the council parks. Mr. Righton had assured her they would be allowed inside. The children were excited. Two girls, ages ten and twelve, and two boys, both twelve. They were dressed in their best clothes, which were old and patched, but clean and neat. The children were washed and combed and tried to be on their best behavior, but it was hard, seeing as it was their first time getting out of the slums.

By the park's entrance , bigail spotted Mr. Righton himself. He was dressed casually, a grey, wool jacket instead of a smart black coat, a cap instead of a top hat, and instead of a walking stick he held a ball in his hands. It was the first time she wsaw im without his formal attire.

He seems less proper and more down to earth when in that outfit. She thought to herself

"Ah, Miss Havisham," Mr. Righton greeted her with a smile and a tip of his cap. "How very punctual you are. And you four are?"

"This is Emily and Peter Warreck," Abigail introduced. "This one is Jane Browne, and this fellow here is Daniel Barrow. Children, this is Mr. David Righton. He is a good friend of mine."

"Our names start with the letter D," Daniel pointed out. "David - Daniel."

"So they do," Mr. Righton agreed. "I see Miss Havisham has taught you your alphabet."

"I can read as well as anyone," Daniel boasted. "The alphabet I mastered two years ago."

"You don't say," Mr. Righton laughed. "Well, let's get going. I brought a ball with me, so we shall have a captial time."

"But we shall get our shoes dirty,"  Emily, the youngest of the team, argued as they all headed into the part. "Mam said we can't come home dirty. We need to go back to work tomorrow in these here shoes."

"We'll be as careful as we can," Abigail reassured. "And if they get really dirty, we can go to the school house and wash off the mud."

"Or we could just take them shoes off," Daniel replied with a shrug. "Washing feet is easier than washing shoes. They dry much faster. Mr. Righton, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a lawyer."

"What's a lawyer?" Peter questioned.

"It's a man who studies the law. Then , f someone is in trouble , e comes and explains what the law says can be done in the situation."

"Like when Miss Havisham was arguing with Mr. Smith about how long the little children ought to work?"

"Exactly so, Daniel, excatly so."

"Were you the one who came and told Mr. Smith off."

Mr. Righton laughed heartily at these words. "I was, Daniel."

"Do you like the job?" Jane questioned.

"I suppose. It requires a lot of careful reading and a great deal of memorizing."

"I bet it's better than factory work."

Mr. Righton paused and gazed at Daniel with sympathy. "Perhaps it is, but it is not for everyone. I had several friends who gave it up because it was too difficult."

"Humph," Daniel scoffed. "I bet I could master it easily."

"Daniel," Abigail frowned.

"Mr. Righton, are you married?"

For some reason, Emily's innocent question brought the color to Abigail's face.

"I am not."

"Why not?"

"Well, Emily, no one would have me."

The color deepened, but luckily the children were too interested in Mr. Righton to noticed how flushed Abigail was.

"Why not?" Jane prodded. "You have a good job and you are handsome."

For a split second, Mr. Righton dared to cast Abigail a glance, before turning back to the children. "Maybe it's because I have been so busy learning how to be a good lawyer, I never had time to court women. Now, how about a game of ball?"

The children readily agreed, and, despite Abigail's protests about the weather still being a bit chilly, sat down and took off their shoes and stockings. They were not going to risk getting their only shoes dirty.

"You ran around barefoot in all weathers as a kid," Mr. Righton soothed Abigail. "And here you stand before us, the picture of perfect health."

"How do you know that?"

He laughed. "You told me many times, of course. How else would I know."

Abigail bit her lip. She almost let it slip. She almost gave away the fact that she had no memory of this man prior to her accident. You need to be more careful, Abigail.

The four children and two adults had a capital time. Abigail had to admit that Mr. Righton was as much a child as the real children. If her own eyes hadn't watched how he ran about after the ball, how he chased the children and wrestled the boys, she would never believe that sophsitcated Lord Righton could be so silly.

When they had enough of the games, they ate the lunch that Abigal had prepared. After which it was time to go home.

"I don't want to go to the factory," Emily sighed. "I wish we could just stay here and play all the time."

"Everyone has to work," Mr. Righton soothed. "Tomorrow I shall be back in my office, and Miss Havisham shall be in the classroom."

"But that's better than the factory. My fingers get so tired working those silly mills. I wish they would invent a machine to work the machine and then we could just go to school, do our homework, and spend the rest of the time playing."

Abigail sighed and patted Emily's head. At times like these, she didn't know what to say to the children. They worked as hard as adult for less pay, and then they came home to dirty, drafty houses, crowded rooms, and hardly enough food. Day in and day out, six days a week with only Sunday for rest.

"But if we better ourselves, maybe we won't have to send our children to the factory," Jane spoke up.

"Yes, if we work hard and learn how to count well and can save up our money, we can send our children to proper school and they can get different professions," Daniel agreed with her.

Emily just shrugged. Her large eyes didn't see a way out of the drudgery that was her life. Abigail glanced over at Mr. Righton. He was quiet as well. Much like her, he probably didn't know what to say or how to sooth.

Together, they took the children to their homes and then made their way back to the better part of town. Little was said, as they were both lost in their own thoughts.

"Do you really think teaching these children to read and write will make a difference?"

"Maybe not for all of them," Abigail confessed. "But I like to think that there will be those who will take their education and use it to better themselves. You've seen how Jane and Daniel think, I like to hope that my efforts are not in vain."

"And the others, who, like Emily, have no hope of life ever getting better?"

"Well, I suppose I guess for the others I take comfort that I do my best to give them a few hours where they can take their minds off the smog and smoke of mills and factories." Abigail let out a sigh. "It is frusturating at times, Mr. Righton, to know that these children work in such terrible conditions and no one seems to care much. Even with all these endless factory acts, you can't say the conditions have improved much. I often feel helpless, but doing what little I can is better than doing nothing."

Mr. Righton gave a small nod. "You have a point, I guess."

They arrived at her boarding house and he saw her to the door.

"Thank you for coming," Abigail said. "The children had so much fun while you turned out to be quite playful yourself."

"You were no better," Mr. Righton laughed. "Look at the hem of your skirt. It is covered in mud. The strict school teacher and ardent reformer vanished at the park. You ran and laughed in a most merry way."

"It was nice to forget my troubles," Abigail had to admit. "I hope you enjoyed yourself and were able to remember your childhood as well."

"My childhood was miserable. I was never allowed to romp about in such a manner. If I dared soil my clothes, my nanny would have a fit, and my mother would scold. I was supposed to keep clean and neat at all times."

"Oh...how...well...boring."

Mr. Righton let out a bitter laugh. "It was. I envied the children of our tenants who could play about in the fields and rivers, climb trees, and catch fish. I would watch them from a distance."

"What of your brother? Did you ever play with him?"

"We have a twelve year age difference and have different mothers. Father remarried only a year after his mother died. Because of this, Richard hated me and my mother and of course he hated Father the most."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He waved his hand. "Don't be. I had a privileged childhood, one your students would dream of having. I suppose I shall see you Saturday?"

His soft grey eyes look deep into hers. Once again, Abigail was struck by how different he looked and behaved today. Perhaps it was his casual attire, perhaps it was the fact that he had spent the entire afternoon playing with children, or perhaps it was because over the past few months she had gotten to know him better. Whatever it was, now Abigail felt she was beginning to understand why her past self had fallen in love with this man. He was not perfect, but he somehow was quite lovable.

"Of course you shall."

Her reply brought a smile to his face, and he tipped his cap to her. "Until Saturday then, Miss Havisham."

"Until Saturday...David."

He had already turned to go, but her voice calling his name had him turning back. Once again their eyes met. His facial features softened, and he was about to speak, but before the words came out another loud voice called out.

"Abigail, David."

They turned and found themselves looking at George Smith, Abigail's cousin.