She was just turning away when she heard a noise from within the room; a faint cry she recognised as Jane’s, and it was enough to spur her into action. She banged her fists on the door until it was finally opened and Nanny Baines’s impassive countenance loomed over her.
From her reticule, Hetty produced a small bottle of toilet water and brandished it in the nurse’s face. ‘I heard Sir Victor wanted some strong Hungary water and I have just the thing,’ she declared. ‘This is a special recipe I made myself.’ Although the nurse was blocking the doorway, she was so surprised by the intrusion Hetty managed to push past her, and the scene that met her eyes when she entered Sir Victor’s bedroom made her gasp in shock.
Jane was stretched facedown on the bed stark naked, her wrists and ankles tethered to the four bedposts. Sir Victor sat helpless in his wheelchair, but in his right hand he held a long riding whip he was quite capable of wielding from his position.
‘What is going on here?’ Hetty cried, although the question was rhetorical. She was sufficiently familiar with his lordship’s depraved tastes to know exactly what was taking place. Then suddenly strong arms seized her from behind.
‘Interfering little cow!’ Nanny Baines hissed in her ear. ‘You are not yet mistress of this house. That honour belongs to Lady Alice. As for this part of the house, I am mistress here, and no one enters without my express permission. You are trespassing, Mrs Carstairs.’
‘Leave her be, Baines,’ Sir Victor said calmly. ‘I know her of old and she is no threat to us. If I spread some of the secrets from her past, her reputation would be so sullied she and my son would be the laughingstock of the neighbourhood.’ He raised cynical eyes towards Hetty with a sardonic smile. ‘And we do not want that, do we, my dear? Not when you and that milksop husband of yours will be lording it here at Longton after I die.’
‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’ she demanded, her voice quavering with indignation.
He laughed. ‘Nepotism and blackmail, the two great forces which oil the wheels of society.’
Her attention was drawn back to the bed, from which muffled cries were emanating, and she realised Jane had been gagged as well as bound.
Sir Victor noticed her staring at the helpless girl and sniggered again. ‘Does this charming scene remind you of anything, Hetty? Of my wonderful parties, perhaps, where all kinds of diversions were enacted for my enjoyment and that of my guests? Well, I am about to indulge one of my private pleasures. Will you stay and watch, or will you leave us in peace and say nothing about it to any living soul? The choice is yours.’
Reluctant as she was to witness Jane’s pain and humiliation, Hetty felt she must stay. Perhaps her mere presence would be enough to soften the blows for the wretched girl. It was too much to hope she might be able to intercede on her behalf.
‘She was insubordinate,’ Nanny Baines was kind enough to explain Jane’s current position. ‘And now she must be punished for it.’
‘Yes indeed, but do not imagine I shall spare her just because you are a witness, Hetty,’ Sir Victor warned. ‘Maybe the sight will remind you of former punishments and, dare I suggest, former pleasures, too?’
Hetty cursed him beneath her breath. The old rogue would never change. He prided himself on understanding women’s secret needs and desires and, she had to admit, he often divined them correctly. Yet she was not here because she wanted to take pleasure in Jane’s suffering. The thought was too disconcerting to even consider, yet she knew it was somewhere near the truth. But what her soul truly ached to do was comfort the girl afterwards, to soothe her tender young flesh with gentle caresses and loving kisses…
‘Nanny, please wheel me closer to the bed,’ Sir Victor commanded.
‘Certainly, sir.’
Once he was positioned within striking distance, Hetty’s eyes widened with fear as she saw him raise his right hand and shake the whip so the long black thong rippled like a malevolent snake.
‘Three strokes, I think,’ he said. ‘What say you, Nanny?’
‘The bare minimum, I would say. Her refusal to supply you with the comfort a man in your tragic circumstances deserves was mean-spirited. The slut does not know the meaning of generosity or kindness, so she must be treated severely.’
‘I think you are right. Please hold my chair steady, Baines, else my exertion might cause it to topple.’
The woman came to stand behind him, her hands grasping the back of his wheelchair, and Hetty stared, aghast, as the old man let fly with the whip, using all his strength to inflict a stinging stroke across Jane’s vulnerably exposed buttocks. The girl let out an agonised yelp as the biting pain struck home, and while Sir Victor prepared to deliver a second blow, a long red stripe appeared on her smooth white skin.
‘Enough!’ Hetty demanded, unable to bear the sight of her friend’s suffering. ‘This punishment is too cruel!’
‘That is for me to judge,’ Sir Victor remarked, unperturbed.
But catching him off guard, Hetty seized the whip from his hand and rushed to release Jane from her bonds. Nanny Baines approached the bed with a furious expression, but Hetty held her at bay by cracking the whip in her direction. The nurse retreated, glaring.
Sir Victor laughed softly. ‘Well, the wench has spirit,’ he said, sounding amused, ‘we must grant her that.’
The knots were securely tied and she had the devil of a job undoing them whilst keeping an eye out for Nurse Baines. When the woman tried to grab the whip from her, she slipped lithely out of reach and managed to give her a crack across the knuckles with the black leather tip. The nurse proceeded to suck her sore fingers, staring balefully at her, but Sir Victor offered his ally scant comfort.
‘Let the pair of them go this time,’ he advised. ‘We shall catch them anon, and their punishment shall be all the more extreme, eh Nanny?’
But Baines was speechless and Hetty was nearly finished releasing Jane. She had untied the girl’s hands and was working on the knots around her ankles with the whip handle held between her teeth. At last Jane was free, and despite her pain, she rolled rapidly off the bed and scrambled into her clothes, which were lying across a nearby chair.
‘Come, Jane,’ Hetty said, taking her hand and half dragging her towards the door. ‘Let us leave this den of iniquity.’ She tossed the whip back into the room as they slipped through the door and slammed it closed behind them. Out in the corridor she paused for a few seconds, panting and distraught, and Jane put her arms around her, weeping softly.
‘Come, Jane, we must not be seen like this.’ She pushed her away gently. ‘We have been through a terrible ordeal, but I have some brandy in my room that will revive our spirits.’
Soon the pair of them sat sipping tots of brandy, yet Hetty could see Jane was extremely uncomfortable, even on a padded chair. ‘What you need is more comfrey cream,’ she suggested. ‘Did you find it helped last time?’
‘Oh yes, thank you, but that brute lashed me right across my back before you arrived as well as lower down, and I doubt I shall be able to reach the welts myself.’
Hetty hesitated. She longed to treat the girl’s back and buttocks herself, but feared she would be unable to control her desires if she did so. Yet she could not leave her to suffer, not now she had appointed herself the girl’s friend and defender. ‘Very well,’ she said at last, ‘I shall do what I can.’
Jane reached unselfconsciously for the buttons of her blouse, undid them, and stripped it off. She then slipped out of her skirt and camisole and stood in her undergarments.
Hetty assumed she would stop there, but then, to her utmost embarrassment, Jane took off her camisole as well and stood before her with her bosom exposed, clad only in her drawers. Hetty tried to avert her gaze, but her eyes were inexorably drawn to the perfect young breasts tipped with rosy nipples beginning to pucker from exposure to the cool air.
‘You had better lie faced
own on my bed, Jane,’ she murmured, her voice slightly hoarse with suppressed excitement.
Jane did as she was bid, and Hetty could not help but sigh as she studied the vivid evidence of punishment emblazoned in the lovely young woman’s soft flesh. Tenderly, she pulled down her drawers until the full extent of her welts was exposed. ‘I shall try to be as gentle as possible,’ she whispered. ‘But this may hurt a little.’
‘I do not mind, Hetty dear, for I know you are only trying to help me. You were so brave standing up to them like that. And you gave Baines a nasty sting across the knuckles. She is probably sucking them now and glowering.’ She giggled, then suddenly rolled over onto her back and pulled Hetty down into her arms.
Hetty’s heart began beating so loudly she was sure Jane must be able to hear it, but then soft lips were pressed eagerly to hers and she could think of nothing else but their sweet taste and feel.
The kiss ended all too soon, leaving Hetty in a spin, but Jane evidently thought nothing of it for she rolled over onto her stomach again with a contented sigh, and waited.
Hetty plunged her fingers into the green ointment and rubbed it over her palms, still trembling with excitement. Hoping the rhythmic action of stroking that slender back would calm her down, she began applying the medicament gently over the raised red lines marring the girl’s smooth flesh.
‘That feels so good,’ Jane whispered.
Hetty gazed down at the peach-like perfection of her buttocks and began stroking them too, the skin beneath her slick fingers feeling like glossy silk. It was so tempting to continue massaging and caressing her, she was almost glad when their sensual reverie was interrupted by the sound of the servant’s bell.
‘That must be for me!’ Jane exclaimed, hastily getting off the bed as Hetty stood up. ‘Thank you for doing that, miss, I am sure I shall be quite healed by morning.’ She shrugged on all her clothes and was gone, leaving Hetty feeling strangely bereft.
About an hour later, she was considering taking a walk in the garden to assuage her restlessness when Leo suddenly appeared. He looked tired, but his expression brightened when he saw her. ‘My dear, I have been thinking of you all day.’ He smiled at her rather sheepishly. ‘Well, of your brother, George, actually. Do you know when we might expect another visit from him?’
Quick as a flash, she replied, ‘How strange you have been thinking of him, for I expect him at any moment. I received a letter by the late post saying he would call in on his way back from Yorkshire. He should be here for tea.’
‘In that case, why not ask him to drop by the summerhouse? We shall take tea there. I have to work on the refurbishment, but I shall be glad of a break at around five o’clock. You will arrange our tea for then, will you not, my dear?’
‘Of course. I am afraid I shall be otherwise occupied myself, but I shall ask Jane to bring it.’ She was thrilled at the prospect of changing into her male attire, and as soon as Leo left, she took out her new clothes. He had sent for a wig by mail order, and she tried it on now eagerly knowing it would transform her into a man even more effectively.
Hetty arrived at the summerhouse ahead of the appointed hour with her men’s clothes parcelled up beneath her arm.
When she unlocked the door the place still smelt damp, but the roof had been fixed and the floor repaired. Leo had thrown some covers over the shabby sofas and put cushions on the chairs, giving the place a cosier atmosphere.
There was a screen to one side she decided to change behind, and as she drew nearer, she saw the pictures decorating it were all suggestively erotic. There was a woman in her underwear leaning out of a window and calling down to one of her lovers while, unseen by him, another man stroked her bare buttocks beneath her raised petticoats.
In another scene, a man with rolled-up sleeves was delivering strokes of the cane upon the bare bottom of an attractive serving maid whose expression suggested she was finding the experience very exciting.
Another tableaux showed a rosy-cheeked milkmaid bent over the lap of a brawny youth sitting on a milking stool, his hand raised as if about to spank her.
There was also a picture of two aristocratic looking ladies strapped to whipping frames with their exquisite gowns hiked up around their waists to expose their pert buttocks, and a pair of equally fine gentlemen were brandishing long whips over them.
Hetty stepped behind the provocative screen, removed her clothes and dressed up as George in his new finery. By the time she was stuffing her long hair beneath the wig she could hear Leo opening the door.
‘George, are you in there?’ he called.
‘Yes, Leo,’ she answered gruffly, emerging from behind the screen.
His eyes brightened at the sight of her. ‘George, how very good to see you again.’
They embraced fondly and moved over to the most comfortable sofa.
‘I have ordered tea to be served here,’ Leo announced, ‘but first I want to hear all your news. You have been visiting relatives in Yorkshire, I believe?’
‘Yes, and real country bumpkins they are, too. My cousin is the local blacksmith and his wife runs the village school. They say she rules the children with a rod of iron, perhaps one of her husband’s making.’
Leo laughed heartily at the little joke, and waited to hear more.
‘When she is at home, however, she is completely under her husband’s thumb. I found it strange that a woman who could be such a tyrant in one sphere could be so subservient at home.’
‘Does he beat her?’ Leo asked, unable to keep his keen curiosity in check.
‘I should say so! While I was there I witnessed two such beatings, and for quite trivial misdemeanours. The first time I confess I was much surprised. We were having supper and Louise accidentally spilled some soup down the front of my cousin’s shirt while she was serving him. Instantly, Bob rose to his feet in a rage quite disproportionate to the offence. He swore at her, calling her a clumsy cow.’
‘Did you attempt to intervene?’
‘Of course, after all, anyone can have an accident. I tried to calm him down with reasonable words, but in vain. He claimed she was always spilling and breaking things and must be taught a lesson, and before I was fully aware of what was happening, he had seized the besom by the back door.’
‘To use upon her?’
‘Yes, indeed, and Louise seemed to know exactly what was happening and… you will find this strange, I know, Leo, but I must tell it as I saw it. She did not make any attempt to evade punishment. On the contrary, she seemed almost eager for it.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because she promptly leaned over a stool and raised her plain woollen skirt. She wore no petticoat, only a pair of serviceable red flannel bloomers beneath which I could discern a plump posterior.’
‘Did she seem fearful or apprehensive at all?’
‘Not at all, although she did plead with her husband to go easy on her with the broom. I seconded that request, but Bob merely snarled and made some remark about it being the right instrument for a witch like her. Then I was forced to witness his attack upon her defenceless bottom. He beat it violently, the stinging branches of willow falling not only upon her buttocks, which were barely protected by her bloomers, but also across the tops of her naked thighs, which soon bore a red lattice of marks.’
‘Did she not cry out in pain?’
‘Indeed, but they were more gasps and moans than screams. And most extraordinary of all, when Bob faltered and stayed his hand, being rather out of breath on account of his stoutness, she begged for more, declaring she had been a wicked girl and must be sorely punished, inspiring him to resume his chastisement for a few more minutes.’
‘How did the poor girl seem afterwards?’
‘Chastened, but in a peculiarly sly way. She was even more subservient to her spouse for the rest of the evening and seemed to bear him no ill will, yet
I noticed strange glances passing between them, as if they were engaged in some secret conspiracy. They certainly made an odd couple.’
Leo was giving Hetty his rapt attention, and she revelled in it. Often when she was with him as his wife his manner was abstracted, as if the cares and concerns of managing the estate were uppermost in his mind, but now she had him hanging on her every word.
‘You mentioned another occasion…’ he prompted.
‘Ah yes. The second time was when the curate came to tea. He was a nervous type and I had the distinct impression he was rather enamoured of Louise. The visit was full of rather stilted small talk and I found it quite tedious, until the point where Louise spilled some tea onto the curate’s trousers.’
‘My word! I am sure your cousin must have been incandescent with rage at that.’
Hetty nodded. ‘He concealed it, of course, but made her sponge the man’s trousers thoroughly, and I could tell the curate was becoming quite excited by her ministrations. Bob apologised profusely, excusing his wife by saying she was very nervous at being in the company of such a distinguished man. Then he admitted to being in the habit of chastising her physically when she was clumsy or careless, and to my utter amazement, he invited the curate to administer the chastisement himself.’
‘No!’ Leo’s cheeks were flushed with excitement.
‘Yes, and when the curate protested it was not his place, Bob said he was sure the punishment would be all the more effective if delivered by a man of the cloth.’
‘And did the curate consent?’
‘Not initially. He said it would be the first time he had beaten anyone, let alone a young woman. But I could see he was inordinately excited by the idea. Bob said he usually made use of an implement, a rod or a broom, to punish his wife, but in this case he felt the curate’s own hand would be most efficacious, provided that same hand were used upon the woman’s bare flesh. The curate started at this and began to protest, but Bob overruled him.’
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