‘Do you wish me to state that you are a tyrannical and brutal creature who terrorises young women and beats them cruelly without provocation?’ Hetty enquired reasonably.
‘I was only doing my job… please, miss, do not let me go without a testimonial. I shall end up on the streets without a proper reference!’
‘Perhaps that is the best place for you, in the gutter where you belong. Think yourself lucky you have escaped another whipping. Get your things together and leave, and let us hear no more about a reference. If you make difficulties you shall not even get your money.’
The woman drew herself up to her full height and thrust her chin out defiantly. ‘Then I shall sue you.’
‘That would not be advisable,’ Leo cautioned her. ‘For I would not hesitate to bring a counter action for assault against Miss Jane here, who still bears the scars of your brutality. Get you gone, woman, while you may do so.’
Baines cursed beneath her breath, but disappeared into her room, leaving Sir Victor fuming in his wheelchair. ‘Who the devil is going to look after me if she goes?’ he demanded, and then his glance fell on Jane and his eyes lit up hopefully.
Hetty fixed him with a level stare. ‘I shall take on the task myself,’ she informed him.
‘You?’ he blurted in astonishment. ‘But you will have other things to do as lady of the house now. No, I shall need a new nurse and—’
‘This is the regime I have mapped out for you,’ she went on smoothly, ignoring his interruption. ‘A cold bath first thing every morning, followed by a severe beating with birch twigs. This is a renowned cure for all kinds of ills I read about in The Lady’s Gazette. It is particularly useful for cooling the blood, I believe, and quashing any inappropriate urges.’
‘Cold baths? Birch twigs? What twaddle you do talk,’ the old man scoffed. ‘I shall not submit to such treatment.’
‘You shall, father,’ Leo interjected, ‘for if there is any trouble, I shall aid my wife in subduing you. It is for your own good, you know.’
‘Paw! What do you know?’
‘After your treatment,’ she continued, undeterred, ‘you shall have a breakfast of barley gruel followed by plain toast and water, ideal food for an invalid such as yourself. You will then take your exercise. I have been talking to Dr Turner and he says there is no reason why you should not be stretched daily on the pulley system patented by Dr Nathanial Rackham. He is of the sound belief that the daily stretching of injured limbs will prevent them from further withering away.’
‘Utter nonsense!’ Sir Victor bellowed.
‘It is useless to protest,’ his son told him. ‘I have already ordered the pulleys to be installed. The man is coming tomorrow to attach them to the ceiling above your bed.’
‘And what other torments have you devised for me?’
‘There will be a certain amount of deprivation involved in the new regime,’ Hetty explained. ‘But of course, it is all for your own good. Your so-called friends will be barred from entering this house and the summerhouse will be strictly out of bounds. But you shall be allowed the company of Lady Cosham, who has expressed a desire to come and read to you two or three times a week in the afternoons.’
‘That old bore?’ Sir Victor groaned. ‘I cannot stand her for more than a few seconds.’
‘I expect she will want to spend two or three hours here,’ she said, smiling. ‘After all, she will be coming over in her carriage so you can hardly expect her not to stay a good while. I am sure you will come to look forward to her visits, for you shall have little else to entertain you.’
‘This is no life you are describing, this is purgatory!’
‘That reminds me, the vicar has also expressed a desire to visit you.’ She had chosen the vicar rather than debauched curate, Dawkins, knowing his sermons were the most tedious imaginable and his morality unerringly strict. ‘He believes that as a recent widower you will need comforting. I have told him to be prepared to take your confession, for you are burdened with many sins.’
‘That snivelling pipsqueak? I would as soon confess to the devil himself!’
‘You may have to, father, and sooner than you imagine. Your liver must already be in as perilous a condition as your soul.’
‘Ah, that reminds me.’ Hetty’s smile deepened. ‘You will be forbidden to take any alcohol whatsoever, and there will be no smoking, either.’
A great howl rose from his lordship’s mouth like a demon leaving his body exorcised by the mere threat of clean living. ‘What? You will deprive me of all my innocent pleasures? Damn you to hell, woman, damn you all!’
‘You did not think twice about depriving young girls of their innocence for your own depraved pleasure,’ she reminded him sharply. ‘There shall be no joy for you from now on, Sir Victor. Your life shall be one of interminable misery, I can promise you that.’
But the old rogue suddenly looked up at her from his wheelchair with the hint of a smile in his eyes. ‘And what if I disobey you, Milady Carstairs? What if I am a very, very naughty boy? Shall you punish me good and proper?’
Hetty stared down at him, unable to believe her ears. The old boy had spirit, she had to give him that. Perhaps having him in her sole charge would not be as dreary a job as she supposed. ‘Well, I do not know about that, Sir Victor.’ She smiled at him almost warmly. ‘We will just have to see…’
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