by Bella Bryce
“Right, I’d like you to lie down for an hour. You’ve just had a bath and can’t go about the house dressed like that. Come along, I will tuck you up,” Brayden said, walking over and pulling the covers down the bed.
“But it’s in the middle of the day,” Alice said, timidly.
“So it is, now in you get,” he said, as Alice abandoned her dressing gown as she had the night before on the nearby armless chair.
Alice rolled her eyes quickly and then sighed as she obeyed.
“No sighing,” he said, looking down at his newly acquired daughter as she laid her head on the pillow.
“You need to learn,” he said, sitting on the bed beside her.
“But you’re telling me off for absolutely everything I do,” Alice contested.
Brayden raised his eyebrows. “No, my girl, it’s for everything you do that isn’t right or proper. Now give me a kiss and then close your eyes. I will wake you in an hour. No messing about and no getting out of bed.”
“Yes, Father,” Alice said, and kissed his cheek before turning onto her side and closing her eyes.
Brayden left her bedroom closing the door behind him and returned to his study. As soon as Alice heard his footsteps fade down the corridor her eyes popped open, she threw back the layers of covers and kicked them down the bed. Alice wasn’t tired and she saw no reason to force herself to sleep in the middle of day. It was a ridiculous notion to her. And whilst she had no intention of being very obviously defiant, she refused to lie beneath three layers of bedding, in a nightdress, in the middle of the day. It was one of the stupidest situations she thought she’d ever been in.
“No bloody way,” she whispered to herself, as she walked across the room and picked a book off of the shelf in what appeared to be a bit of a reading nook part of her room. She could easily spend an entire year sitting in the overstuffed, gorgeous chairs, reading and drinking endless pots of tea by the fire. The idea was comforting and she immediately dismissed the previous trips across Brayden’s knee she had harboured as ‘unfair’ against him in her mind. The details of the room reminded her of how seriously and deeply Brayden regarded the situation that he himself had sought out. The very one she herself had cancelled plans with a friend to apply to. She just hadn’t been amused by having to refer to Brayden the way he since mandated.
Alice eventually glanced at the antique clock on the mantle of the fireplace and noted her one-hour ‘nap’ would be up shortly. She quickly padded across the room and slid beneath the bed covers, turning on her side so that her back was to the door. Before she knew it she heard the door handle slowly turn and she pinched her eyes closed.
Brayden walked over to the bed and sat beside Alice, who acted well the part of the girl who had just been roused from an afternoon nap by the feeling of someone sitting beside where she lay.
“Alright my darling, you can get up now” he said, rubbing her back.
Alice “sleepily” turned over and rubbed one of her eyes with the back of her hand.
“What time is it?” she asked, squinting. Alice was almost impressed with her own performance.
“Time for you to learn a proper hobby,” Brayden said.
Chapter Eight
“I will never be able to play it,” Alice said, staring at his Steinway grand piano where they stood in the downstairs music room.
“With hard work, lessons and discipline, you shall be able to do it,” he said.
“How do you know?” Alice asked, looking up at him.
“Because with those three things I can guarantee most anything in life,” he said.
Alice gave him a pessimistic look.
“I don’t want to learn piano,” Alice said, quietly, as Brayden pulled the bench out.
Brayden turned to Alice rather quickly and signalled for her to approach him; she did and folded her hands in front of herself, knowing her comment would probably land her in trouble.
“You will learn piano because I want you to and I don’t wish to hear otherwise,” he said, looking down at Alice seriously.
“But you can’t force me,” Alice said, beginning to feel rather agitated.
“I am your father and you will learn whatever instrument I tell you to learn."
Alice scowled, narrowing her eyes at Brayden. She didn’t like being told such things, despite having consented to the relationship and all that goes with it – she did not like it one bit.
“Don’t you dare look at me in such a way. Stop glaring this moment,” he said, pointing at her.
“I shan’t until you listen to me,” Alice said.
Brayden’s eyes widened and he took Alice by her ear and walked her to the nearby sofa and then turned her to face him.
“Clearly you haven’t taken in the trips across my knee properly thus far, considering you so blatantly answered me back, disobeyed me and have now just raised your voice in open defiance. You shan’t until I listen to you?!” Brayden asked, repeating her comment. He looked at her for a moment and then began unbuckling his belt.
“NO, don’t! Brayden, please,” Alice begged, as she observed him calmly removing his leather belt from his flawlessly pressed suit trousers.
“Brayden?” he asked, surprised and impressed that she was so blatantly use his name when he had specifically told her never to do so. “You know exactly who I am, young lady, now refer to me properly.”
“I won’t call you ‘father’, it’s silly!” she exclaimed.
“Silly,” he repeated, as if considering the word. “It’s silly, is it?” he asked. “It’s just so silly that an eighteen-year-old girl should be taken in by someone just ten years older than her, to be loved and raised properly, and that she should refer to him as the figure in her life that he has become. It’s silly,” he reiterated.
Alice could tell that she had deeply offended Brayden; not only was he disappointed but he was hurt by the rejection Alice had blatantly showed toward his role. Alice had never intended to cross Brayden and she certainly thought that two spankings in one day would be the most she ever experienced, but found that living at Waldorf Manor was a curve so sharp that constant correction seemed unavoidable.
“You are going over the arm of that sofa and you will feel my belt across your backside for your utter insensitivity. Perhaps you will consider just how silly your father is then,” Brayden said, and calmly placed Alice over the rolled arm of the large sofa. He lifted her pinafore and pulled her knickers down for the third time that day.
“The only thing I want to hear from you for the next five minutes is sobbing,” were Brayden’s last words before he used moderate force on all fifteen strokes of his belt. Alice didn’t move or argue or whine. She did exactly as she had been told and sobbed throughout.
“Do you think your father is silly now?” Brayden asked, after he had finished replacing his belt and looked down at Alice who remained in position over the arm of the sofa.
“No, Sir. You’re not silly, father,” Alice said, as thick, gaping breaths escaped between her sobs. Her face was still buried in the sofa.
“Good. I certainly never thought it was,” he said, abruptly.
Brayden replaced Alice’s clothing and then stood her to face the nearest wall with her hands on her head. She was still very much in a state of shock, having never experienced such a punishment, much less a punishment prefacing two.
“This is the last time I’m going to tell you that I am your father, Alice. The very last,” Brayden said, and left her in the music room alone facing the wall to mull it over.
Chapter Nine
There was more than one voice, Alice noted, as she turned her head away from the wall, her hands still atop. She heard Brayden speaking with someone in the foyer and she wondered who it was. Alice hadn’t the nerve to walk across the room and peer through the crack in the double doors. She would be in such serious trouble if she were caught doing so. Simply the thought of it gave her shivers.
Alice quickly turned back to face the wall;
she didn’t even want to be caught looking anywhere but the wall she had been put in front of. Her crying had stopped but her backside throbbed. She had no desire to sit down properly, but she could have done with a lie down on her tummy at that very moment. She was exhausted. All the crying, the change, the rules; it was a lot to deal with in one twenty-four hour period.
“Miss Alice, your father wants to see you,” Wellesley said, from the doorway.
Alice suddenly turned, not having heard him enter the room. It had only been the butler in the foyer speaking with Brayden. Definitely not worth the investigation! The way the staff seemed to be able to pull off incognito-like entrances and exits intrigued her.
“Okay,” Alice said, tentatively removing her hands from her head and following Wellesley. She didn’t quite know how to respond to the man who was older than her but technically beneath her.
Wellesley led Alice across the foyer and into the drawing room, opening and closing relevant doors until they had completed the journey. Brayden sat in an oversized chair reading a book when Alice entered. She stopped just short of him, not wanting to do anything further without instruction. Brayden marked his page and looked up at Alice.
“Come here to me,” Brayden said, placing his book on the table beside himself and his steaming cup of tea. Alice’s mouth practically watered; she wanted tea.
Alice walked several steps closer, her hands in a subdued posture in front of herself; she knew it was time to talk. Brayden very obviously like to address issues directly while Alice would rather avoid them.
“You’ve had an hour to consider your punishment, I would like to hear your thoughts,” Brayden said, folding his hands.
“I don’t know” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Do not shrug your shoulders. Stand up properly,” he said in a controlled tone of voice.
Alice did so, all the while mentally wincing at his sternness. There he was, stern Brayden – er – father, again.
“I expect an eighteen-year-old girl who has just been given a good and proper beating to be able to answer me when I ask how she’s spent the last hour contemplating her behaviour,” Brayden said, as if stating so, would indeed make it so.
“Why does it matter how old I am?” Alice said.
Brayden stood up and over her.
“Because with age comes expectation. I have expectations for you and until I see them being met you will find yourself in a constant state of correction,” he replied.
Alice lowered her eyes. Brayden’s expectations were high – higher than any she had ever had to meet in her life thus far. The rules were quite black and white, but a far greater deal more detailed than a girl who was raised in a broken home could grasp naturally.
Brayden then put his hands on his hips and said, “I apologise, I’m going to have to take back what I said about your age being irrelevant, darling, because not only is it necessary to have clearly defined roles in this house, but I am now going to clearly define your age as well. You’re nowhere near prepared to be presented to anyone as my eighteen-year-old daughter; nowhere near where I was at your age to represent my parents and this estate on any matter of things. You need to be raised properly before I can even consider allowing you to have any kind of responsibility in maintaining a reputation tied to Waldorf Manor. You’ve just about the manners of a ten-year-old, so that is where we shall start,” Brayden said, looking at her with all the seriousness expected during such a conversation.
“What does that mean?” Alice asked, getting an offended look on her face.
“It means that I will view and treat you as a ten-year-old child, Alice. I will then proceed to raise you onward. Each year I would expect you to behave one year older, until you’ve reached adulthood and should be able to behave as though you’ve always lived here with me,” Brayden said.
“Was that what you wanted this whole time?” Alice asked, beginning to feel as though she’d not been fully informed.
“Not at all. What I had wanted and expected and what I feel is best for you, this house, my staff and our lifestyle, are different things. This was never going to be a simple task for me or a simple transition for you. I couldn’t expect that. What I do expect is for you to do as I tell you to do, and I’m telling you that you are not prepared to continue moving forward in your present chronological age in this house. I will not allow it,” Brayden said.
“So you’re just going to pretend I’ve not had the last eight years?” Alice asked, wondering if it was even possible for someone to do so.
“By way of how your world here will be shaped, yes,” Brayden said.
Alice’s eyes went to the floor and she felt insecure knowing Brayden’s expectations of her at that point and moving forward had significantly lowered.
“I’m sorry, father,” Alice said, quietly.
Brayden nodded. “That sounds about right,” he said, whilst eventually meeting her eyes.
“And do not expect to make any proper decisions henceforth because it’s certain you won’t,” Brayden said.
* * * * *
It hadn’t been more than an hour later when Wellesley appeared in the drawing room beside Brayden’s chair once again, this time to inform him that Harriet and her two assistants had returned and were waiting in the foyer. Brayden closed his book for the second time that evening to turn his attention to a female, “although this one shouldn’t need a good telling off,” he thought to himself as he left the drawing room.
“That appears to be more than just a nightdress and dressing gown,” Brayden said, nodding toward the girls as he entered the foyer where they all stood.
“Yes, well, I told you we could meet your demands,” Harriet said, hiding a grin. “Here are both nightdresses, the dressing gown and slippers,” she indicated with her hand toward Kate. And then the dress, all of her tights and knee socks and these two are the brown and black shoes. The rest of the shoes will come with the appropriate outfits,” Harriet said, touching the boxes that Maggie held.
“You are a complete star, Harriet,” Brayden said, giving her a smile.
Harriet masked very well the flattery she felt when he smiled at her. She may have been old enough to be his mother, but he was a very rare handsome and charming gentleman. Wellesley beckoned two uniformed staff to take the boxes from Harriet’s assistants and then carried them up the stairs. Brayden wasn’t far behind up the stairs after seeing his guests out.
“Alice,” Brayden said, upon entering her room.
He glanced around the room and then went over to the lovely-looking stack of smart boxes his staff had arranged and peered inside the top one.
“Alice,” he called again, as he removed one of the shoes from the box and held it up; it was patent black leather with a t-strap, gold buckle and no heel. It was exactly how he’d thought it would look.
“Alice” Brayden called a third time, once he’d replaced the shoe in the box and turned to get a better look around the room. He had sent her upstairs after their chat so that she could have a short time on her own to think and daresay, to explore her bedroom and to become familiar with it. He had initially worried Alice might move the furniture or that she might break something, but he also realised it was important for her to feel at home in her room if she was to really adapt to the idea of being his daughter.
But Alice was nowhere to be found. He checked behind the screen, in the en-suite bathroom and in the wardrobe.
Brayden left her bedroom wondering where he should look. He didn’t know if Alice was elsewhere in the manor or what she could be up to. The second thought that crossed his mind was that she had left Waldorf; perhaps that she changed her mind and no longer wanted to be part of his life. Or that his insistence upon her calling him “father” was too much and the demand had pushed her over the edge. Brayden couldn’t bear the idea of Alice leaving, but especially not under negative reasoning and he found himself consumed by worry as he searched in various rooms for her.
“Sir.”
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Only Brayden’s legs were visible from beneath one of the guest beds in a room on the second floor when Celia had passed by.
Brayden quickly slid out from beneath the bed and stood up before straightening his waistcoat.
“Yes, Celia?” he asked, as if Celia had interrupted him whilst on a very important phone call.
“If you’re looking for Miss Alice, she is down in the kitchens,” Celia said.
“Thank you,” he said. Brayden cleared his throat and let himself out of the room, leaving Celia to turn out the light and close the door. She could see that Brayden had found the spare key above the doorframe and shook her head as she used her master key ring to secure the heavy wooden door again.
Chapter Ten
“Okay, now take them out but don’t put the cheese on yet. You have to put the spread on first,” Alice directed from where she stood.
The Head Chef obediently removed four slices of browned bread from the top rack of the oven and placed them on the chopping board – much to the amusement of the two junior chefs observing with crossed arms and casual posture nearby.
“How much butter, Miss?” the Head Chef asked, glancing over at her.
“I trust your judgment,” Alice said, causing the two junior chefs to chuckle.
The Head Chef buttered the pale sides of the toast and then looked at Alice for further instruction.
“Now you can put the cheese on top,” Alice said, as she moved beside the Head Chef and gave him a reassuring pat on his arm.
The Head Chef turned to glance at the two junior chefs who were enjoying watching him being bossed around by “an eighteen-year-old who was meant to be regarded as a ten-year-old,” as they’d been thoroughly informed earlier. The Head Chef turned and nodded toward a bottle of Worcestershire sauce beside the other two chefs, which one of them passed along. Alice leaned close to watch as the Head Chef sprinkled a few drops of Worcestershire sauce over the cheese-topped bread, then replaced the four slices in the oven and closed the door.