“Child, I have known you since the day you stepped foot into this building and demanded a cushion for your pew,” the priest chuckled. “It will happen again, of that I am certain. Are these your new wards?”
“Yes, my husband and Martha are working with both,” Brigit answered, avoiding Aryanna's questioning frown. “Aryanna is from Russia. She is new to our language.”
“I would suspect your son to have a greater amount of patience with that order of teaching than your husband, my lady,” the reverend said slyly. She reddened in response. “Next time you wish to trick a man of the cloth, don't look so obvious. Get on with you, ladies. Have a safe journey home.”
Brigit tilted her head respectfully and placed her hand on the small of Aryanna's back to lead her towards their carriage. She said something to the driver and climbed inside with the other three women.
“My Lady, your behavior at church will not go unspoken. The reverend will tell your husband of it, be certain,” Martha said with a hint of concern.
“Laughter is contagious,” Brigit shrugged, grinning at the two younger women, “Surely Gerard will understand. Besides, he chose not to be with us this day. If he wishes me to behave in services, he knows he must be present.”
“Mama, will Papa be angry?” Aryanna asked in concern, eyeing Eliza.
“Yes, pet, but only with me. You are not to worry. Perhaps the good Reverend won't have opportunity to tell him of our slight breach in behavior.” Brigit smiled with a wink. Aryanna looked confused. Why was she not worried about her husband's anger? This did not make sense to her.
“Aryanna,” Martha touched her knee. “The reason Mama is not upset with the prospect of being discovered is that she trusts Papa to be fair. If he is angry, then she knows it is warranted.”
“I do not understand.”
“With real love comes forgiveness,” Brigit explained. “My actions were wrong, but not unforgivable. If Papa feels discipline is justified, he will proceed. I do not fear him. He loves me and therefore will do what he feels is right and best for me.”
“I did not realize that he still disciplined you,” Eliza said quietly. “You are his wife and a lady…”
“I am still, and always will be, his ward and his responsibility. That is why I love him so,” Brigit said. “How would you ladies like to join me for Sunday brunch? I am having our driver take us into the city.”
Ignoring the girls' excited responses, Martha frowned at Brigit. “Lady Remington, I must state my opposition. Lord Remington made himself clear that you were not to go into the city without his permission.”
“I'm not by myself, Martha. I have you along to guard me and my girls. Smile, please. It's a beautiful day, and life is short.”
With a sigh, Martha leaned back. She watched the three others as they interacted joyfully with one another. Aryanna had never visited an English city, and it had been years since Eliza had frequented one. As for Lady Brigit, the look of defiance on her pretty face was unmistakable. Lord Remington was not going to be pleased with his lady wife, for certain.
* * *
“This was a productive day,” Gerard stated as they drove the vehicle back to his estate. “I feel more confident that we will be able to survive this drought. The tenants seemed to show eagerness to prepare.”
“They trust your judgment, Father. I am anxious to return home and check on Ary, though. I was not comfortable leaving her unattended for this period of time after punishing her this morning.”
“I understand. Hmm, the carriage is absent. Perhaps your mother went by to check on her,” Gerard stated, exiting the car and tossing his driving gloves and goggles onto the seat.
“Martha will know… Martha?” Ryan called, entering the house. He paused to wash his hands and face from the road dust and glanced around. It was nearly four o’clock and no evidence that Martha had started preparing the evening meal. “Father? I don't think they are here.”
“Eliza is gone as well. Perhaps they all ventured to your home to pay a visit.”
“Mother would have attended services today. She may have taken the ladies to keep her company. You know that she does not enjoy going alone.”
“They would have returned from church by now, had they gone,” Gerard commented, glancing at his pocket watch with a frown. “I hope their carriage did not break down. I'm going to go by the parish and try to backtrack them.”
“I'll go with you,” Ryan said, hurrying behind his father as they left the house and saddled their horses. Upon arrival, the pastor informed the two of the day’s events and the approximate time the ladies had departed. He also noted that the carriage had left opposite the direction of their residence. Gerard and Ryan looked at each other and simultaneously said, “The city.”
“This has got to be your mother's doing,” Gerard growled, hopping back on his horse. “Martha hates going into the city, and the girls would never have considered it.”
“But why would she do so without your expressed permission? That is not like Mother.”
“It most certainly is like your mother. Do not consider for a moment that she is a quietly obedient and submissive wife, son. It is her defiance and sass that has kept me captive all these years.”
“It is a part of her I do not witness very often,” Ryan admitted, galloping alongside. “Has she kept it hidden from my view?”
“Very much so and very well. I fear what she might be showing our girls, though. They cannot think it is proper to disobey a husband. Not this husband, anyway. Your mother is in a great deal of trouble, I'm afraid.”
“Martha would have—”
“Not been able to do anything to prevent her from doing as she wished. Your mother offered a greater challenge to that poor old woman than did her son,” Gerard grinned. Ryan smiled back,
“And yet Martha stayed with us all these long years. Why is that, if Mother and I were so difficult?”
“Because we are her family. Ah, is that our carriage that approaches us? Yes. Let's just escort them to home and say not a word.”
“Perhaps Eliza would care to stay the evening with Aryanna and give you and Mother some privacy?”
“Excellent idea, my boy. She must be returned to the school tomorrow, so your offer benefits me in an even greater degree. Look, they closed the curtains to pretend we are not in their sight.”
Ryan snickered, noticing Aryanna peek out at him as he trotted next to the carriage. She hid her face quickly when she was noticed, turning to Brigit.
“Lord Ryan is there,” she whispered.
Brigit sighed, looking out her side, “And Lord Remington is on mine. I fear we have been discovered, my pets. He does not look pleased, either.”
“What will become of us?” Eliza asked fearfully, grabbing Aryanna's hand.
“Nothing to you. This is my responsibility. I will probably taste the switch for this,” Brigit shrugged without concern.
“A birching, more likely, my Lady,” Martha grunted. “See how he fists his reins? He is angry.”
She was correct. After dropping the girls and Martha at Ryan's home, Gerard escorted Brigit back to his own and held the carriage door open for her to exit. Without a word, he pointed to the door. Head held high, Brigit lifted the edges of her skirts, proudly entered her house, and silently walked up the stairs to her chambers.
She slowly peeled off her gloves and hat as Gerard followed inside. He paused for a moment to consider her before slowly rolling up his shirt sleeves.
“Do you have an explanation, wife, as to why you chose to defy me before our wards and maid?”
“No, Gerard. I simply wished to go into the city and have a nice brunch with my ladies. Being that you chose not to attend services with me, I did not feel a need to include you in my decisions.”
“What has occurred to bring on this sass, young lady? I have not heard such a tone from you in years,” Gerard frowned, hands on his hips.
Brigit turned around in a rustling of material from her longs
skirts, her green eyes flashing at him. “This was my last day home prior to returning to the school. It was a day to spend with me and your family, not trotting all over the tenancy. That could have waited until the morrow!”
“You will not raise your voice to me, Brigit. Had you asked why I chose this day to attend my business rather than another, I would have informed you that the communities are gathered together on Sundays and allowed me to address more people at a single time than had I gone house to house. This drought might cost people their lives. Surely that is worth a sacrifice of a few hours of time with you?”
Brigit looked at the floor, abased. Red crossed her face. “Please forgive me, husband. I was in the wrong. Your thoughtfulness of others has shamed me.”
“I would hope so. I am sorely disappointed in you. And what did you teach our girls? To show them that defying their husband is an acceptable behavior?”
“Truly, darling, I am sorry. I will be certain to communicate my wrongdoings to them.”
“As well you should. Remove your dress, Brigit. You are to be punished for this disobedience and for your selfishness. I shall return momentarily.
“Gerard… You don't mean…” Brigit's eyes widened. He had only punished her on one other occasion for being selfish, and it was a time she would have preferred to have forgotten. His grim expression gave away his response. Trembling, Brigit removed her clothing until she stood naked in the center of the room. He never permitted her the dignity of covering when being presented for true punishment, and she knew that this instance would be far more severe than she had anticipated. Her only consolation was that he would make love to her later in the evening, when his disappointment had abated. It would be rough, unhindered, and possessive, and she would love every second.
Gerard entered several minutes later carrying a bundle of twigs loaded with bright green leaves and a bag. Brigit gulped, aware of the content. Ginger root that he pulled from the garden. She frowned, noting that the twigs were not birch, rather the nettles that Ryan had deposited on their doorstep the previous evening. A cold sweat broke out on her face,
“Gerard… Please. I implore you to…”
“You will exercise silence right now. Retrieve the tawse and oil it.”
Brigit blanched as she obeyed, lifted the three-fingered, split leather strap from his bureau. Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she poured neatsfoot oil upon a scrap of soft cloth and gently rubbed it over the tails of the strap in her hand. She avoided looking at Gerard. She would not receive any sympathy from him this day. He held out his hand, and she laid the strap upon it.
“Across the table, lass. This will be a strapping that will require you to hang onto the edge,” his low voice ordered. Brigit clenched her teeth, her desire to run and escape punishment as great as that when she was but a young woman. She knew he waited for her to place herself, taking the time to introduce more oil to the leather, adding to it more weight and bite. She finally complied, stretching her long, pale body over the richly polished wood. The cool surface pressed against her breasts and her pelvis, and she closed her eyes, wishing he was to take her from behind rather than inflict punishment upon her.
“Do you have anything that you wish to say in your defense, lady of mine?” Gerard asked patiently, positioning himself behind her and admiring the full roundness of her soft globes and the dark pink flesh fringed in soft red hair that peeked out from between her white cheeks.
“I am truly sorry to have worried you, my love. And, even more, that I disobeyed you out of my selfish needs. Please, show me mercy. I am not a young woman anymore and—”
“And you still try to talk me out of well-deserved discipline,” Gerard finished her sentence, amused. “You may no longer be a girl of eighteen years, but this backside is as firm and round as the day I first laid eye and hand to it. Prepare yourself, wife.”
Brigit held her breath and gritted her teeth as the first dose of the tawse's fingers licked across the span of her flesh. The oil made the leather supple and heavy, causing unbearable sting as it bit into her. She groaned in pain as the lashes fell, one by one, smartly etching red lines of the three tails into her skin. She released tears into her arms, unmoving as she stretched across the flat of the table, only bending an ankle in response to the harsh whipping that she had brought upon herself.
Gerard ceased the thrashing when she finally let loose with a loud sob and tears began to pool under her face. He knew her well. Repentance was not a thing that came easy to Brigit O'Ryan Remington, and at the times when she showed forth her stubborn nature, Gerard also was forced to show forth his own. He allowed her to cry in her position for several minutes before he began the next curse of action—punishment for her selfishness.
He eyed her as he carved the ginger root into a pointed bulb with a thick neck and long, flat base shaped like the letter “T”. He wore his gloves, carefully not to spill any of the plant juice upon his own hands in fear of it touching his eyes by accident. Silently, he dipped the plug in water and, wordlessly, parted the tender cheeks of his crying wife’s delicate bottom. With some effort, he pressed the plug within her back hole, lining the base along the narrow slit between her cheeks.
Stepping back, he placed the nettle branches upon the seat of the wooden chair and positioned it in the corner. “To the corner with you, Brigit. You are to seat yourself and not move until I give you leave.”
Brigit slowly straightened herself and bit at her lip as the ginger was squeezed between her cheeks, causing a horrid burning. Timidly, she sat up the nettle branches and began immediately to cry out in agony.
“Gerard! Please, it is too much! I beg you, stop this pain!” Brigit bawled, the tremendous stinging causing both her insides and scorched outer portions continuous and uncontrolled distress. Her cries began to rise to throes of anguish as her suffering reached an intolerable level.
“You may stand now,” Gerard said, satisfied that she had learned a valuable lesson. Her bottom was speckled with red, irritated bumps atop the red stripes. He gently removed the plug and lead her to the bed. Without a word, he placed her over a pile of pillows, her bottom raised high in the air, and ordered her to stay in place.
Brigit continued to weep copiously into her arms, the pain unrelenting as the after effects of the stinging nettles and ginger settled. She felt something cool and wet being applied to her flesh and jerked her head to see her husband's sad face studying her injured bottom.
“Do not disobey me again, wife. This saddened me greatly to have to punish you so.”
“I truly am sorry,” Brigit sniffed, the cool cloth bringing some comfort to her burning. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“You are forgiven. You always will be forgiven, my darling. I just will not abide disobedience or selfishness from you or any of my girls.”
“I am your wife now, Gerard…”
“You will always be my girl as well. That you know. Is this helping you?”
“It is bringing some comfort, but not as much as your gesture. You have never offered me healing following a punishment. Why this time?” Brigit sniffed, cringing as he blotted the water on her thighs.
“It is your last night home before you depart for a week. I wish to make good use of it.” Gerard brought a little smile to his face.
Brigit grunted, “That sounds like a selfish reason to me, Gerard Remington.”
“Perhaps it is, but one I insist on pursuing. And by what I am starting to see between your sweet lips, you are not in protest of it.”
“You should consider yourself very fortunate that I do adore you and enjoy our love making,” Brigit commented, noticing how his attention had shifted from easing the pain to her buttocks to bringing her pleasure as he began to encircled her little nub with his finger.
“I do consider myself the most fortunate of men, my love. Of that, I never have had any doubt,” Gerard responded, grinning as she lifted her lips to meet his insistent finger. Moments later, a loud squeal of pleasure replace
d Brigit's sniffles as she ground her body against his hand. Gerard chuckled, feeling her response to his touch so completely. No, he had never had the slightest doubt.
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan smiled lovingly as he observed the three women working together in the kitchen, preparing goods for canning. Martha, as always, ran a tight ship, demanding immediate cleanup before taking further steps. Eliza, new to kitchen faire, was pink-faced with excitement as Aryanna showed her different ways to preserve the foodstuffs. The youngest of the three had also waved a spoon at him when he entered the forbidden realm and attempted theft of newly washed berries from a bowl. It was late into the evening when he announced time to cease their activities and prepare for bed.
Martha yawned as she escorted the two girls upstairs, a gesture noticed by Ryan.
“Martha, go to bed. I will take care of the girls.”
“Lord Ryan, they need to bathe and—”
“Yes, yes, I know, it is not proper. Go to bed. That is an order,” Ryan said firmly, planting himself in front of her. She frowned, about to argue, when he placed a hand on her shoulder, “Nanny, please… you aren't as spry as you once were. Allow me to do my job as you rest from yours. Good night.”
He kissed her on the cheek and pushed her gently in the direction of her room. With a relenting sigh, Martha obeyed. Ryan turned to the girls, raising his eyebrow to the incredulous look on Eliza's face.
“Go on, out with it…” he began, prepared for the fight.
Eliza glanced at Aryanna and then turned to Ryan. “Thank you for allowing me to be here. I submit myself to your care, Reformer.”
Ryan raised both brows in surprise. Was this the same woman who, only a few weeks before, had been the demon of the academy? He was truly impressed with the progress his father and Martha had made. Her cooperation and submission earned her a reward.
“For your answer, my dear, I will allow you to bathe yourself. Would you like that?”
Eliza's eyes widened with excitement. Since being placed in the reformer’s care, privacy had been a thing of the past. This was truly a gift, and she expressed her appreciation to Ryan over and over again. He gestured for her to go and smiled as she raced up the stairs eagerly to attend to her own needs. Aryanna tugged his sleeve.
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