by Allison West
Opening her eyes, she found herself staring at a child not more than five or six, with hair as dark as ink and eyes just like her father's. "Hello," Etta said, wondering what the child's name was.
"Hello." The young girl smiled ruefully at Etta.
"Come, Sophia!" a woman scolded the young girl. "I am so sorry, miss."
"It is all right," Etta said, sitting up in bed. She grimaced the moment her bottom hit the mattress. Jumping from the bed, she headed for the armoire, as if that had been her intention all along, to start her day.
Sophia smiled. Did she know what was going on? Etta had not met her last night, but that did not mean she had not heard about it, either.
"I am Nanny Joan, though it seems I might not be around here much longer," the woman said.
"What? Why would you say that?" Etta spun around on her feet, confused.
"Because the children have you now," Nanny Joan said.
Etta shook her head. No. Thomas had never mentioned anything about being their nanny. In fact, he had made it clear that they had a nanny and governess already.
"Do not leave us, Nanny Joan," Sophia said, clinging to the woman's arms.
Etta bent down to face the young girl. "Your Nanny Joan is not going anywhere. All right? I promise you, she will be here as long as she would like to be." Though she knew she had no say in what happened in the Maddock household, she also did not want to scare the child into hating her already. If Thomas spoke about dismissing Nanny Joan, then Etta would step in and speak her mind. She hoped that did not happen anytime soon. Her bottom was still sore from last night, and would be for quite some time.
Sophia watched Etta carefully before relinquishing her tight grasp on Nanny Joan. "Will you come play with me?"
Nanny Joan patted Sophia's back. "How about we let this nice woman get dressed first?"
"I'm Etta," she said, introducing herself. "It is short for Henrietta."
"All right," Sophia said, pouting as Nanny Joan guided her out of the room by her shoulders.
"It is nice to meet you, Etta," Nanny Joan said as she closed the door behind her, leaving the young woman in peace.
Etta walked toward the armoire. What could she wear? The dresses may have only been a few years old, sitting in a closet for safe keeping, but they were not her style; with sequins and silk, far too fancy for an ordinary afternoon. Though, in truth, nothing about Etta's life was typical lately. She had no idea what to expect from Thomas, let alone whether Philip even cared that she had left. Had he been angry when he discovered she had gone missing? She had thought Philip had sent her away, but now that she knew that hadn't been the case, she felt bad about going without saying goodbye. Not that Thomas had afforded her that luxury.
She removed the cotton nightgown and changed into a dark red dress that matched the color of her bottom. Since the welts had had only minimal time to heal, they still hurt immensely as the fabric grazed her skin. Etta did not bother with undergarments, for it felt far more comfortable with nothing underneath after the lashing she'd had for speaking inappropriately. Perhaps if she said nothing to Thomas from now on, it would keep her out of further trouble.
Stepping out from the bedroom, Etta wandered the hall and down the stairs, following the sounds of young children laughing. Would this be her life from now on, caring for Thomas' two girls? It did not sound too terrible, but it was not what she wanted. She missed the chateau and everything it offered. Being cared for and loved had been a wonderful feeling; even with the discipline that had followed. With Thomas, she had the discipline but nothing that made her feel warm and adored, not like with Philip and the nannies.
"Hello, girls," Etta said as she entered the playroom.
Sophia's smile grew with her happiness. "Miss Etta!"
"It is just Etta." She did not want the children to be so formal around her. "I met Sophia upstairs." Etta walked toward the girl who was a bit taller than Sophia, with hair just as dark and matching dark brown eyes. "What is your name?"
The young girl did not answer. She spun around on the floor with her doll, intentionally ignoring Etta.
"She is Mary," Nanny Joan said. "I am sorry about that. Mary is usually so much better behaved. It has been hard after her mother passed away. She is not very accepting of her father's guests."
"Guests?" Did Nanny Joan mean that Etta was not the first woman he had brought into his home? How many others had he considered marrying? What had happened? Had the children driven them off? "Thomas and I are betrothed," Etta added, pointedly.
"My apologies," Nanny Joan said. "I am sure Mary will come around when she realizes you are to be her mother."
Etta could not even remember her own mother. Her father had never been able to afford a nanny or anyone else to care for his daughter.
Heavy footsteps traveled through the hall and into the playroom. "Good," Thomas said. "I have been looking for you this morning, Etta. Come join me for breakfast." It was not a question, but a demand.
"Yes, of course." Etta followed Thomas from the playroom. She glanced back over her shoulder as Mary spun around and stuck her tongue out at her. That child would be difficult indeed. She did not wish to think about the other women who had been chased away by two rambunctious children, though Sophia seemed quite polite and easy to attend to.
"How are you liking the estate thus far?" Thomas asked.
"Your home is quite lovely, as are your daughters."
A smile grazed his features. "I look forward to fathering more children with you." His hand came to rest atop her stomach.
Etta's belly flipped. She had not even thought about children. It would be expected of her to lie in bed with him and produce babies, but she still found the idea repulsive. "I do not know," she stammered.
"You will give me at least three more children. I need a boy to carry on the Maddock name," Thomas informed her.
"Three children?" Etta spat out. He expected five children to run around the estate without incident? It seemed Nanny Joan had enough with just the two girls, keeping her hands plenty full.
"Unless you would like five more?" Thomas said. "I would be quite happy to renegotiate our terms."
Had he not considered the cost of raising so many young children, or was money no object for Thomas? Etta knew her dowry would go to him and it seemed that he'd also acquire some of the funds from the sale of her childhood home.
"Three more children is sufficient," she said, walking alongside him as she followed Thomas into the dining room. The room was rectangular in shape, which matched the large rectangle mahogany table situated several meters inside. A dozen wooden chairs with high backs and intricate carvings matched the table. Sunlight poured in through the window, making the cream colored walls a warm yellow, as the dark gray curtains had been pulled to the side. Sitting on the table was an assortment of breads, fruits, cheeses, and juices. Her mouth watered and stomach rumbled at the sight of such a feast. It all smelled delicious.
"Glad we have that settled." Thomas pulled out the chair and Etta headed over to take a seat, only to see him sit himself down.
She paused, a confused look on her face, before dragging the heavy wooden chair several steps back. Etta sat down, hiding the discomfort of her raw bottom, and scooted herself in, the chair squeaking as it dragged across the floor.
Thomas seemed distracted, dishing out food onto his plate, apparently not even noticing his lack of manners. Was this how he always behaved? If so, then maybe it explained Mary's cold shoulder. She had blatantly learned it from somewhere.
"Help yourself," Thomas said, gesturing toward the trays on the table. He dug in, hungrily devouring his meal. Glancing up after several minutes, his food nearly finished, he examined Etta. "Tell me about your time at Ashby. What were you doing at the Ashby Chateau? Teaching young girls, or taking lessons for yourself?" He sipped his tea, his eyes never leaving hers.
Etta knew lying was a terrible idea, but she could not reveal to him the truth about what had been expected
of her at Ashby. He would not understand. It had been kept a secret for a reason, and it was people like Thomas who would look down upon such individuals and their way of life. Etta had at first found it strange, the notion of dressing and acting like a child, but her time spent with Nanny Mae and Papa Philip had changed her feelings about all of it. She missed her own father, but the grief had all but dissolved while she was visiting the chateau. Here at the Maddocks' estate, the sadness loomed above her head like a giant cloud, waiting to unleash its wetness and soak her to the core.
"Did my Uncle Jack not tell you why he sent me away?" Etta asked. Perhaps diverting the question was the best course of action.
"He mentioned his desire to marry you off. It seems no one but I was aware of the betrothal."
"Why is that?" Etta asked.
"Are you questioning the validity of the arrangement?" Thomas asked. His eyes narrowed, and he pushed his chair back from the table. "Get up!" he barked at Etta.
"Excuse me?" She had no idea what she had said or done, but if he was planning to use that strap again, she could not bear it. There was only so much blistering her bottom could take.
"Over my knee."
"What did I do?" Etta asked, placing her fork on the table. Her meal was only half-eaten but any desire to take another bite had disappeared. Her stomach sank. She was not quite sure she would not get sick.
"A woman never questions her husband," Thomas said, his voice shrill as he reached for her arm, dragging her up and out of her seat, pulling her down across his lap.
His grip was strong, and even as she fought to get free, she was no match for his strength. He pulled her over his lap and lifted the hem of her dress, revealing her still blushing bottom from the previous night.
"Please," Etta said, begging to get away. "Do not do this." Her voice was filled with fear and tears dripped down her cheeks as she felt his rough callused palms begin to spank her.
"Butler!" Thomas continued smacking her red cheeks.
"Yes, sir?"
Etta had not seen the gentleman enter the room, and as if it was not horrifying enough to know the stranger could see her bare bottom, Thomas continued to spank her while speaking to him.
"Bring me the paddle. My hand will grow tired after ten or twelve swats."
Etta's eyes widened in horror. She should have been relieved that he was not requesting the strap, but each swat felt more painful than the last, and knowing what was to come only made the pain seep deeper beneath her skin, like a scar that would not go away.
"Please, no!" she cried, her legs kicking and her hips twisting, trying to escape her punishment; one she felt was both harsh and unjustified. She could not see the butler but she could hear his footsteps between smacks to her bare bottom. The burning sizzled through her skin and radiated down her legs as he landed several blows below the plush curves of her buttocks. She would never sit again.
"You will learn that speaking to me in such a tone will not be tolerated," Thomas said. "I am the head of the household. You are nothing more than a woman I have taken in. That will not change when you are my wife."
His harsh statement was met with a painful spank from the paddle.
Etta did not dare answer him. What good would it do? She had lost count of the number of spankings he'd given her. She doubted it would be less than the twenty-five swats with the strap she had endured last night. Perhaps Nanny Joan had a salve she could apply to heal the blistered raw strokes that left marks on her skin. Would she help her, or would Nanny Joan face the same brutality from Thomas? Etta would not wish this on anyone. Not even her worst enemy, which most days was herself.
The wood cracked against her skin, landing on her swollen rear. "I am sorry," she cried, hoping the tears and her apology would be enough to stop Thomas. The more Etta thought about his wife's death, the more she felt certain that the woman had either died from being spanked too much, or she had run off to protect herself. Though why would any sane woman leave her children behind?
"You will obey me from this moment forward, or I will paddle your bottom every night before bed, in addition to the swats you receive for your poor choices in behavior," Thomas said. "One slip-up during the day and you will get fifteen swats of the paddle when you lie down at night."
"I swear it will not happen again." Etta could not even fathom what she had done that was wrong. Asking seemed like a terrible idea. She would accept her punishment and when Thomas was not looking, she'd get as far from the estate as possible.
The paddle smacked her cheeks again. She clenched on impact and then released her tightened muscles, having learned that being relaxed hurt far less. Though she felt nowhere near relaxed.
"Five more," Thomas said. "If I hear you whimper, it will be ten."
Etta did not answer. She kept her mouth shut and tried to gasp only with the sound of the paddle, blending in her whimpers and moans so that Thomas could not hear the pain he inflicted. Did it upset him to hear her discomfort? She opened her lips, wanted to shout to him to please stop, but the paddle landed for one final swat before he helped her stand.
Her tears had soaked his trousers and the floor. "In the corner. One hour. Keep your dress above your waist!"
Etta walked to the corner of the room, grateful she would not have to see anyone's faces as they witnessed her red sore bottom. She kept her dress at her waist, her hands trembling along with her legs the longer she stood.
Time seemed to tick but at a slow impossible rate, as if the hour would never end.
Eventually it did. "You are dismissed," Thomas said.
Etta sniffled and ran as quickly as she could from the dining room upstairs. She had no money and only the clothes she was wearing. Where would she go? Staying at the estate was not an option. She needed to leave as soon as she could slip away undetected. First, she would talk to Nanny Joan, to ensure that Sophia and Mary were in good hands, untouched and unharmed. If Thomas did anything to hurt his girls in the way he had hurt her, she would whisk them away from their father and protect them, at all costs.
Chapter 20
Philip rode through the afternoon and arrived at Jack Waters' residence, giving a firm knock on the door.
An older woman opened it. "Hello. Can I help you, sir?" the housekeeper asked.
"I am here to see Mr. Jack Waters."
"Is he expecting you?" She had graying hair and pale, gray-blue eyes.
"He ought to be." How could he not expect Philip to show up after what occurred at Ashby? One did not just enroll in the school and then leave on a whim, with another man. What made even less sense was the idea that Etta was betrothed to another man.
"Come in," the woman said, opening the front door further to allow him entrance inside.
Philip removed his top hat and coat, offering it to her to hang up.
"Philip," Jack's voice carried from the second story as he descended the stairs. "I am surprised you are here. Is it because I have withdrawn my niece from your finishing school? I know you may have counted on the money, but I assure you that I shall complete payment through the end of the month."
It was not about money, it was about Etta and her well-being—aside from the fact that Philip had grown to love her, and the thought of any other man taking her as their bride, he found repulsive. "I demand to know where she is at once."
"Why should I tell you?" Jack asked. His eyes narrowed and his brow twitched slightly. "The girl is out of both of our hair. Is that not what we both wanted? You needed to find her a husband, and he came to me. It seems she was already to marry the man, though we had no news of it."
"What man?" Philip needed to hear it from the source himself.
"Thomas Maddock came to me just the other day. He showed me the paperwork that Etta's father had signed."
"I wish to see a copy of it," Philip said. Certainly if such a paper existed, Jack would have kept a copy among his things.
"You are mad to think I care about Henrietta and whom she marries. The money speaks lo
uder, and I assure you that Thomas providing half of the estate that she grew up on is enough to satisfy all doubts and nagging curiosities. They are to be wed. No one can stop it," Jack said emphatically.
Philip had every intention of stopping the wedding. There would be no Etta Maddock if it were up to him. He would much rather she took his name of Hartley, though he'd be gentleman enough to give her the choice as to whether she wanted to marry him. Was he worried that she might be happier with Thomas? Of course, but he could not know without chasing her down and finding out the truth.
"Tell me where I can find this Thomas Maddock." It had been why Philip had come to see Jack. If he'd had any knowledge of her whereabouts, he would have skipped this visit entirely. The added fact that Jack knew and was eager to give her away only made Philip hate the man more. Jack did not care about Etta's well-being, only about marrying her off and getting rid of any responsibility he had toward her. Why had her father entrusted the care of his daughter to Jack? It made little sense.
"He is in the moors, on an estate twice the size of this property," Jack said. "You will have little trouble finding him, he lives not far from the train station, but he will not relinquish Henrietta as easily as you hope." Jack pulled out a map of the railways and pointed to the station closest to the Maddocks' property.
"How do you know all this?" Philip asked.
"The information regarding his estate was on the original papers that Henrietta's father signed declaring she'd marry Thomas. I may have taken a peek for curiosity's sake."
Philip felt quite glad that Jack did at least know where to find Etta. The carriage would be quicker from where he was already located. He'd leave at once to recover his little girl and bring her to Ashby with him again.
"What do you expect to find, Philip?" Jack asked.
"I need to know that she is pleased with Thomas and wants to stay with him." Philip had spent too many hours and sleepless nights thinking about little Etta. He could not abandon her without knowing she wanted to leave Ashby and that she was pleased. Even if she were, would he be able to turn around and return home? Philip did not know the answer. He would find out when he arrived to greet her.