Charles slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Linny, I am sorry about the misunderstanding. I thought Nancy would have spoken to you of our mothers’ plans."
Nancy had, but Linnett had chosen to think that Nancy was just warning her off a man she fancied. Not for a moment had Linnett believed that Nancy was telling her the truth! After all, she had known Charles for years, as playmates when children, meeting up at odd times through the intervening years at social occasions, and then finally at her own coming out ball. When Nancy had introduced her to the tall handsome young man she had just been dancing with, Linnett didn’t straight away recognise him as her erstwhile playmate.
Charles had grown into a pretty but vain young man; he was weak and was very much in awe of his large and domineering Mama. Linnett, on seeing Charles again after so long, was captivated by his blond, foppish and fashionable good looks. She had ignored Nancy’s proprietary air and set her cap at him, flirting outrageously and claiming dances with him whenever she could. Charles, who remembered Linnett and their escapades as children, took her interest as the renewal of their childhood friendship and nothing more. Charles felt wretched at the awful mix up and at his own lack of perception. He looked at her now standing in the moon light in her lovely green dress, soaked and dripping in a ruin around her. Her usually pale hair looked darker and it hung like rats tails, she had green slime trailing over her shoulders and she looked frozen.
"Come, Linnett, we can use your coach to go home in. We will drop you at Lavenstock Hall first and then I will travel onto my house to change my clothes and return to the ball. I will seek out your father and tell him that you were feeling unwell and have withdrawn home and that you will send the coach back to collect him." Charles, pleased with his plan, turned and walked briskly down the gravel pathway in the opposite direction to the house. "Come along, the stable yard is this way and there is a gate to where the coaches wait- just follow me!”
Linnett was by this time too cold to argue with Charles, besides which the plan seemed to be a good one and she certainly had no intention of returning to the ball soaking wet! They crept across the stable yard, yellow light shone out from the groom’s quarters above the stables but all was quiet and no one saw them. Opening the gate they edged along in the shadow of the wall, taking care that the coach men should not see them. Linnett spotted her father’s coach, "It’s over there, Charlie! The large dark green one, you can see my father’s crest on the side. "
“Wait here, Linnett,” Charles whispered. “I’ll check inside it and see if your man is there.”
Luckily, Charles found Davis the coachman happily snoozing inside the coach, as he, not being a social sort, preferred not to go off for a chat and a jar of ale as the other coachmen were inclined to do. If Davis was surprised to see his mistress dripping wet and accompanied by a young man in the same condition, well it really was not his place to comment. He pulled himself up onto the driver’s seat, grumbling acerbically as he did so. As soon as she was inside the coach Charles wrapped a plaid rug around Linnett’s knees and bade Davis to drive to Lavenstock. However, just as Charles had settled himself onto the seat the door of the coach was flung wide and John Foster jumped inside. He pulled down the window and shouted up to Davis.” “Hold hard there, man; I will tell you when to drive on!” Davis tutted and grumbled but obediently held the horses in check. "Well!" John looked at each of them in turn, “You two look a sorry sight I must say!” John settled himself comfortably onto the seat next to Linnett, who flounced as far away from him as the plaid blanket would allow.
“You!” she spat furiously “What on earth are you doing here!”
Linnett was extremely agitated by this unexpected turn of events. Her plan to put Charles in an uncompromising position so that he had to marry her was going so well up to the point John had arrived.
“Let’s just say I feared for young Charles’s safety my dear. Well now, how cosy we are! Setting off to Gretna Green perhaps? I must say you have chosen a most interesting fashion to wear for the wedding, not so much Lady Greensleeves as The Lady of The Lake!" John grinned, and covering his fury well, he leaned back against the seat and made himself comfortable.
"You insufferable prig, answer my question! What in God’s name are you doing here and following me again?” Linnett sneered at him and pushed her wet hair back from her face. She leaned forward, glaring venomously at John.
Her intensely green eyes flashed dangerously, and John recognised the warning signs of a temper tantrum beginning, so he responded mildly enough. "I thought I had answered your question, Miss, uh, I apologise…. Lady Wainwright. I followed you from the garden because I was concerned for Lord Charles’s safety. After all, you did push him off a balcony!"
Charles hurriedly interjected, “Yes, but as you see, sir, I have had my revenge!” He gestured towards the bedraggled and dripping Linnett. “We are friends again now, are we not Linnett? I am sorry, but who are you again?” Charles was having trouble keeping up with this evening’s strange events.
“So... you have had your revenge.... but what of mine?” John asked, not bothering to answer Charles’s inquiry
“Yours, sir? I’m afraid I don’t quite follow,” Charles said, events becoming too complicated for him
“Then let me enlighten you, Lord Charles. After you plunged from the balcony this evening, I came upon this young lady leaning over the balcony, shouting for a ‘Charles.’
“I assume that you are the said Charles and not some other poor unfortunate my fiancée has plunged into the pool tonight?”
Linnett spluttered with outrage, and Charles first shook and then nodded his head as he was having real difficulty following John’s tale. John continued, “ I was not too keen on my fiancée calling for another man so I took the opportunity to remind her of our betrothal arranged this very afternoon by Sir Thomas Wainwright and myself whereupon... I kissed her. This young, um, lady then brutally attacked me! Allow me to show you the bruising to my face.”
John tilted his head so the light caught the darkening bruise adorning his cheekbone.
“What?” Linnett shrieked, staring at him in disbelief. “This is complete and utter nonsense! I cannot believe I am hearing this…this tissue of lies! How dare you distort what happened tonight! Have you forgotten that I rejected you outright, that there was no engagement?” Linnett was so incensed that she leapt up, hitting her head on the coach roof. She dropped straight back down into her seat again, rubbing her head and glowering at John.
Charles was getting rather tired by now and still felt incredibly confused. His head was hurting him, and he thought perhaps he may have banged it during his fall from the balcony. He was finding it difficult to follow the present chain of events, but in desperation, he clung to what had just been revealed.
“Sir, is what you say true?” Charles asked, in a bemused tone. “Sir Thomas Wainwright approves your suit and supports your betrothal?”
John looked Charles steadily in the eyes. “Sir Thomas Wainwright himself arranged the match. Tell me, young man, do you feel you have a prior claim to Linnett’s affections?”
Charles looked horrified.
“Good Lord no, sir! I had no idea that Linnett was about to become betrothed! Please let me assure you that this evening’s circumstances are entirely innocent and that Linnett’s er . . .integrity should not in any way be held in question. Although her reputation...”
Here Charles faltered and mopped his brow with a wet handkerchief pulled from his sodden waistcoat. God, he thought, what an awkward situation this was, to be sure. If John was indeed betrothed to Linnett, then at least he would be free to seek the restful charms of Nancy, which was what he had originally planned before this evening’s fiasco. The scandal that seemed only a step away in this present compromising situation could possibly be averted if one of them was engaged to Linnett. Charles was under no illusion that found alone and in their present bedraggled state, he would be honour-bound to offe
r for Linnett should John decide, in view of present circumstances, to break their betrothal. Charles realised after tonight’s escapade that life with Linnett as his wife would be little better, if not much worse, than life with his mother. Here, then, was John, offering a splendid solution to the problem and he was going to do his damndest to encourage him without getting caught up in some melodrama of Linnett’s own making.
Lord Charles’s musings were interrupted by a howl of incredulous rage from Linnett. “I am not betrothed to you, you imbecile! Charles, he is lying!”
Charles and John snapped in unison, “Be quiet, Linnett!”
John held out his hand to Charles.
“I accept your assurances as a gentleman of honour, Lord Charles, that nothing unseemly has occurred here tonight. I will endeavour to keep this evening’s scandalous events between ourselves but that is on the understanding that you undertake not to see my fiancée alone again.”
Both men ignored yet another of Linnett’s spluttering yelps. Charles shook John’s proffered hand and readily agreed. “I suggest that I leave the pair of you alone to make your arrangements while I find an alternative way home. I congratulate you both on your engagement and wish you good night!” So saying, Lord Charles hurriedly opened the coach door and leapt out into the darkness. Linnett was pleading with him the whole way through his pretty speech, but Charles focused solely on John and ignored Linnett completely. He counted himself very lucky to be leaving this mess unscathed.
John was extremely satisfied by the way things had turned out. Linnett’s lack of decorum had placed her in a position where she would have had no choice but to accept his proposal of marriage, and when she had calmed down sufficiently, she would realise that this was indeed the case.
Linnett was incensed at Charles’s sudden departure and pulled down the carriage window, calling after him, “Charlie! Oh, Charles, do come back!”
She tried to stand up and follow him, but the plaid rug caught around her legs and she ended up sprawled across the seat of the coach. John reached over and hauled the wet, seething, angry girl upright. He moved to sit beside her, and she immediately begun to berate him for ruining her chances with Charles. John laid his fingers gently against her lips.
“Hush now, and just listen to me, young lady. “You are going to marry me. You really have no choice, for if you refuse me, your reputation will be ruined, and Lord Charles is very much afraid that if I do not marry you, he will have to!" He held up his hand for silence as Linnett vehemently protested. “Yes, I am very much aware that such was your intention, my girl, but as you see Charles...” John paused and suddenly lent forward, pushing open the door to the coach, which in his hurry to leave, Charles had left slightly ajar.
It swung open, revealing Davis the coachman standing with his ear pressed to the door, listening. Caught red-handed, he stepped back, his face flushing as he stammered, “Sir! Sh.... shall you be wantin’ to leave now, sir?"
“Yes,” John said smoothly. “If you would drive us back and then return for Sir Thomas Wainwright, I will pen a note for you to take him on your return, explaining this evening’s turn of events.” John calmly leaned over to the door and tugged it shut.
He then drew the curtains at both end windows. “That will help keep the draughts and would-be eavesdroppers out. I am sure that you saw Davis’s face, my dear? This juicy bit of gossip will be talked of in all the best drawing rooms before the week is out. Accept our betrothal, Linnett, for you really have no other choice.”
His grey eyes flicked over her, taking in her bedraggled appearance. “Now let us see to you, for you are completely wet through, child. Come, move closer to me.”
Linnett’s eyes filled with foreboding, and she drew herself away from him, scrambling into the corner of the coach, where she pulled the rug up under her chin and stared warily at him with narrowed eyes.
“Now what is it?” John asked wearily. “Look, as much as I would like to put you over my knee and spank you soundly, which incidentally, you do very much deserve, I think we must concentrate on getting you warm, if not dry, before you catch your death from cold. Just look how you are shivering!” John took hold of the blanket and pulled it away from her. “Come now, there’s a good girl, and let’s get the worst of the wet off you.”
John had intended to rub her briskly with the blanket, but when he stretched out his hand to her, Linnett whipped forward and sunk her teeth deep into his wrist, drawing blood. “Ahh!... Why you spiteful little baggage....I have a good mind to... you have been asking for this you little brat...well, I’m going to warm you up properly!”
John, provoked beyond endurance, recalled, too, her vicious attack on him earlier, not to mention her ill-mannered behaviour over the past few days. He hauled Linnett across his knee, determined to teach her a much needed lesson in manners. He raised his arm and proceeded to spank her with good force. Linnett’s face was smothered in the wet wool rug, which hampered her struggles and muffled her cries, but she managed to sink her teeth into John’s thigh. Although the blanket took the worst of the bite, John jumped and gritted his teeth, now determined to teach this harridan a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
John flung up her wet gown and yanked down the sodden and already drooping drawers, baring Linnett’s behind. She was horrified and so shocked that she stilled for a moment. John took his time to admire the pair of peach shaped alabaster orbs lying across his lap. He stroked the silken skin before raising his hand and landing a satisfying slap on Linnett’s exposed bottom. John was more than satisfied with the pink hand-mark now marring her pale skin. Linnett shrieked. NO ONE, but no one, had ever treated her so! John continued to spank Linnett, catching her hand as she tried to protect her flaming and now painful bottom.
“Oh no you don’t,” he told her.
His hand continued slapping Linnett’s bottom, his arm swinging in a repetitive arc, delivering her punishment with immense pleasure. “You have been a spoiled brat all your life, and your father should have taken you in hand years ago but never mind, you are to have a husband now, and I will see to all your needs after we are wed, my sweet, even your neglected needs.”
Linnett howled and kicked but to no avail, and she wondered how much more of this pain she could take. Her bottom was on fire, and despite trying to be brave, she sobbed in earnest. At last, her writhing behind well and truly punished, John released her. She certainly looked warmer, her bottom as pink as a...well, an English rose, he mused, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
“Don’t you d-dare laugh at me!” Linnett glared at him furiously. “As soon as my father hears about this, he’ll k-kill you, you, brute!”
Her mouth wobbled precariously. She had never been so humiliated in all her life. She trembled with rage, thinking again that no one, but no one, had ever subjected her to such treatment before. Oh how she hated John Foster! She would never marry him now, no not even if he were the last man on Earth! Her father was going to be livid with John; he would probably hang him for what he’d done. Linnett enjoyed a satisfying vision of John Foster hanging from their oak tree in the garden.
When the coach finally arrived back at the house, Davis opened the door and leapt back in surprise as his mistress tumbled down from the coach and streaked headlong into the house. John leaned forward and watched her disappear, shaking his head pensively. Slowly he climbed down from the coach himself and walked across the gravel to the entrance. Once inside, he went straight to the library, where he knew Sir Thomas Wainwright kept his brandy. John poured himself a generous glass and settled comfortably in the chair nearest the fire to await Sir Thomas’s return. He knew that he had to be the one to tell Linnett’s father what had occurred tonight; he wondered how the elderly man would react to him spanking his precious daughter.
Linnett, meanwhile, had run straight up to her bedroom. She was sorry now that she had told Lottie not to wait up for her. Trying to remove a wet satin ball gown by oneself was no easy task, particularly when your fingers wer
e stiff with cold and you were shivering violently. Eventually, she managed to free herself of the cumbersome dress. Using an old soft blanket, she rubbed her hair and body vigorously to get dry. After throwing some coal on the dying fire and giving it a rattle with the poker to bring it back to life, Linnett ran over to the bed and jumped into its soft inviting depths, snuggling down.
She reflected miserably on the disastrous evening. A few tears of self pity began to trickle down her cheeks. Oh how she loathed that odious man! How dare he treat her like that! Well, at least now Father would stop making plans to marry her off to him. Linnett knew her father would be absolutely horrified by tonight’s events. No doubt when she arose in the morning, John ....bloody, yes that’s the word for him, John bloody Foster, would be long gone from this house. Linnett smiled drowsily to herself and finally drifted off into a deep sleep.
The next morning dawned chill and bright. Linnett awoke refreshed and lay listening to the bird song outside as she stretched and threw off the covers. Just then, Lottie tapped at the door and walked straight in as she did every morning carrying a bucket of steaming hot water.
“I thought after your escapade last night you might like a soak in the tub. Hattie and Jane are following me with more water. I’ll just leave this here and fetch the tub. Mr. Foster had a bath this morning so...”
Linnett interrupted her, shouting, “What! Is he still here then?”
“Why, yes miss, an' there’s a secret plan afoot if you ask me.” Lottie said, tapping the side of her nose and nodding sagely.
Linnett sat bolt upright. “What do you mean, Lottie, what plan?” But before Lottie had time to answer, the upstairs maids arrived with the hot water. Lottie slipped out of the door to fetch the copper tub that was used by the family for bathing.
Later that day, Linnett sat on a hill some way from Lavenstock. It was a favourite spot of hers. The fragrant meadow afforded a lovely view that swept as far as the sea. Linnett was reeling from shock at the interview she had had with her father that morning. Fully expecting outrage and anger on her behalf, especially after the previous night’s spanking incident, she had been unprepared for his hostile reaction towards her.
His Spoilt Lady Page 4