Catherine's Letters

by Aubourg, Jean-Philippe

  It was on Tuesday morning that Miss Prior announced to me she had sought, and gained, Father’s permission to take me on an educational trip to London. It was the end of our morning lesson, and I had just received another dose of the martinet, followed by three stinging strokes of the cane, delivered with unusual vigour. Indeed, I was still bent forward over the desk, my skirts up and my drawers down to expose my bottom, and I was in a somewhat agitated state, as I am sure you can imagine. I was expecting and hoping for Miss Prior’s soothing touch to bring me relief, but it was not forthcoming. Instead, she made her announcement and told me to instruct Molly to pack for a two-day visit to our town house.

  I was surprised to hear this and, as I rearranged my clothing, I wondered what its purpose might be. It was not the season for families of our class to be in London; indeed, on those rare occasions I have visited in high summer the smell has been almost overpowering, as you must surely know, Connie. I also wondered what there was to learn from such a visit. Granted, it may be the capital of our great Empire, the heart of our government and the civilised world, but I have frequently heard Father curse it for being overcrowded with the unwanted riff-raff from every other nation in the world. Except when his Parliamentary duties require him to attend the House he always tries to escape to this, our country residence.

  Miss Prior would not answer any of my questions on the subject, but gave me the afternoon away from the schoolroom to prepare. We set off straight after breakfast, the dog cart driving us the five miles to the railway station. I shall not bore you with the details of our journey, save to say we had the first-class carriage to ourselves, and Miss Prior took the opportunity to test me on my Greek verbs. I am afraid to say I did not do well in this unexpected examination.

  We had wired ahead to the footman who heads the small staff of our London residence, and so found everything in order. I dare say they take liberties when left alone, but any evidence to that effect had, of course, been removed. We ate at seven, and after supper Miss Prior took me to my room, where I was given nine firm strokes of the cane (she remembered to bring it with her!) for my poor performance in the train, before I was sent tearfully to bed, being told I would need all my strength for the following day. I blew out the candle and lay on my belly, my bottom aching and my mind full of questions.

  I felt much better at breakfast, the pain in my bottom having eased, but still I wondered what lay in store for me today. But, as I told you at the outset of this letter, I have come to trust Miss Prior as a guardian, and knew it would be for my own good.

  After breakfast a hansom was ordered. I expected this was because we were undertaking a journey of some miles, so was surprised when we travelled only from Belgravia to another town house in Kensington. Miss Prior paid the driver and led me up the steps.

  It was a residence equally as smart as Father’s, set in a quiet square. Miss Prior rang the bell. The door was soon answered by a fair young girl in the usual housemaid’s livery. We were shown into a tasteful drawing room, whereupon the maid withdrew, having told us she would inform her mistress that we had arrived. I was heartily confused by now, but a shake of Miss Prior’s head told me to ask no further questions.

  Soon the door opened to admit a handsome woman of about 40. She was striking to behold, from her auburn hair and finely formed features, to the simple but expensive cut of her plain grey dress. She greeted Miss Prior as an old friend, addressing her as Verity, which I now assume must be her Christian name. In turn, Miss Prior addressed the woman as Amanda, before they kissed each other on the cheek. They then turned to look at me.

  ‘Catherine, this is Miss Parker,’ Miss Prior told me. Evidently I was not to use her Christian name. Miss Parker eyed me as if assessing a prospective purchase, an action which sent a shiver down my spine.

  ‘So this is Catherine,’ she said, adding, ‘Yes, Verity, she is everything you said in your letter. How is she responding to her training?’

  ‘Most admirably,’ Miss Prior replied, speaking as if I were not there to hear her. ‘I believe she is ready for us.’ I was both puzzled and alarmed at this last remark, but felt too overwhelmed to ask what they felt I was ready for.

  Tea was served by the maid, and I sat in silence as Miss Prior and Miss Parker chatted about mutual friends of whom I knew nothing. After half an hour Miss Prior announced it was time for us to leave, but that we would be back in the evening, deepening my sense of intrigue and apprehension. The boots was sent to summon a hansom, which conveyed us home in plenty of time for lunch.

  The afternoon was spent reading an improving book, something I was very grateful to be allowed to do, given my caning of the night before. Dinner was served at six rather than seven, an arrangement Miss Prior had made because of our mysterious evening appointment.

  After dinner, she came to my room to select a dress for me. She chose a simple design of dark green, one which I was told would be just right, smart enough to impress new company of the highest breeding, while not overwhelming any of the other guests. We were not, she told me, going to a grand ball, but at the same time it was still important to show that I was very much of the upper class.

  As before, a hansom took us from Belgravia to the house in Kensington, and the same maid answered Miss Prior’s ring. My Governess had also chosen a smart but simple evening gown, hers being in her usual black.

  Although the curtains to the front of the house were all drawn, lights burned in every window, and the murmur of conversation which reached my ears as I entered the hallway told me we were joining a large group of people already within. Miss Prior and I were shown to the same drawing room as earlier, but now we found ourselves joining a group of about a dozen other women. They were all slightly older than I, although one or two not by much. The oldest, a well-dressed and respectable lady, appeared to be in her late 40s or early 50s. By their appearance and dress they all seemed to be of the same class and breeding as ourselves.

  We were greeted with nods and smiles, and Miss Prior exchanged pleasantries with some of the women who she obviously knew well, before taking me to the last pair of vacant chairs in the far corner of the room. The fair maid, along with two of her darker companions, was serving drinks of hot chocolate, a cup of which I took gratefully. I found it to be pleasantly spiced. As I drank, Miss Prior whispered to me that, whatever happened this evening, I was not to be afraid, as she would be my side constantly. I replied that I trusted her completely, and would obey any instructions she gave me. Nevertheless, my heart skipped a beat as I pondered the meaning of her words.

  At this point, Miss Parker entered the room. She too was wearing an elegant black dress, long of sleeve and high at the collar. All conversation ceased and every eye turned toward her as she assumed her role of hostess. ‘Ladies,’ she announced, in clear and confident tones, ‘everything is prepared. If you would like to make your way upstairs you will find your seats laid out.’

  Almost as one, the women rose and walked from the room. Naturally I got up with them and felt Miss Prior’s hand upon my elbow, propelling me toward the door. As we passed Miss Parker she gave me a smile which did nothing to quell my rising sense of fear and excitement. Something remarkable was about to happen here, I was sure of it.

  We followed the other women, who were streaming upstairs to the next floor, and into another room. It was the twin of the drawing room we had just left, being immediately above it, but furnished in a very different fashion. To say it was a schoolroom would be to give you the wrong impression; rather, it had the appearance of a lecture theatre. A raised platform at the far end was home to a lectern, three chairs, and a strange triangular frame, made of wood, with leather padding on its crossbars. Spread in front of the platform, forming a semi-circle, were enough chairs to accommodate everyone in the group.

  Miss Prior and I took up two of the seats to the rear as Miss Parker, the matronly woman, and another of the older ladies, mounted the platform and seated themselves, looking down on us as if we were a ch
urch congregation. When all was still and the nervous conversation had hushed, Miss Parker stood and took her place at the lectern, whereupon she delivered a welcoming speech. I shall attempt to recall it word for word, Connie, as it answered many of my questions, the same which I am sure you are also asking, but I pray forgiveness for any errors or omissions. As you will understand, my pulse was racing at this point.

  ‘Ladies of the Corporal Society, welcome to you all. As well as all the fun of our monthly meeting, this month we also have the pleasure of introducing a novice.’ At this point Miss Parker indicated me with a deliberate look, and I blushed to my hair roots. ‘Please remember how it was for yourselves on your respective first visits, and show young Catherine all the kindness and welcome you would have hoped to receive.

  ‘We have several issues on our agenda tonight.’ She consulted some sheets of foolscap on the lectern. ‘A number of you have made requests to be dealt with, including some who have been good enough to submit lists of domestic wrongdoings for which you were not sufficiently punished by your husbands. Still others have asked for the opportunity to administer, and wherever possible the two requests will be matched.’

  One or two of the audience cast nervous glances at each other, while some were smiling in what seemed like wicked apprehension. I could not have failed to pick up on the word “punishment” as used in Miss Parker’s speech, but I still did not fully comprehend its exact meaning. The situation, however, was about to be made as clear as crystal.

  ‘So let us start,’ she announced, indicating with a nod to the fair housemaid, who stood at the door, that a prearranged instruction was to be carried out. The girl left, to return a moment later with her two colleagues. All carried the trays with which they had earlier served drinks, but now no refreshment was to be forthcoming.

  The trays bore a fearsome selection of instruments of correction. The blonde maid led the way, her tray piled high with what seemed to be a large collection of leather whips and martinets. One near the top I could clearly see had a large, paddle-like blade. The tray carried by the girl behind her was stacked with school canes of varying lengths and thicknesses, their handles hanging over one end and their tips the other. The girl who brought up the rear had the most ominous cargo of all. On her tray was perched a champagne bucket, but no bottles nestled inside. Instead, the ribbon-bound handles of three birch bundles were clearly visible, the gentle slopping of liquid from inside the bucket indicating that they were being kept especially fresh.

  I watched spellbound as the girls carried their trays past the crowd of anxious and excited women. They mounted the stage and each in turn placed her dreadful burden beside the frame, curtseying before their mistress, then leaving the room as suddenly as they had come.

  All eyes were once again fixed upon the stage, as the lady of this most remarkable house spoke. ‘My friends, it is time to begin. Let us see upon whom fortune smiles first this evening.’

  The matronly lady who had joined Miss Parker rose, pulling two small tin jars from beneath her seat as she did so. She offered the one in her right hand to Miss Parker. ‘As always, the recipient shall be selected first,’ she said, delving inside. She produced a folded scrap of paper, which she proceeded to open. ‘Dominique,’ she called.

  A gasp came from somewhere in the room. I looked in the direction from whence it came, to see a timid young brunette stand up, her face the colour of beetroot. She was robed as we were, simply but elegantly, a dress of maroon velvet pulled about what was a very shapely figure. She clasped her hands before her and hung her head.

  ‘And now to select our disciplinarian,’ Miss Parker continued, drawing a piece of paper from the second jar. ‘Clarissa!’ she announced. ‘Where are you, you lucky girl?’ There was a movement in the audience, and a second woman rose to her feet. While still a brunette, she was somewhat more fair than Dominique and appeared to be of the same age. Clarissa had chosen to wear a frock of blue muslin, with a neckline tailored lower than any I would have dared to wear in public, displaying an ample bosom which now visibly heaved with some excitement.

  The two women were called to the platform, where they stood shoulder to shoulder behind Miss Parker, both trembling, but I guessed for very different reasons. Miss Parker consulted her sheaf of notes. ‘Dominique, you have spoken in your submission this month of a degree of conjugal neglect by your husband of two years. As such, you have been tempted to seek solace elsewhere, even paying extra attention to your junior footman. But your husband fails to notice you still, even to the extent of not punishing you for small misdemeanours, some committed deliberately. Is all this true?’

  ‘Yes Miss Parker, every word,’ the shame-faced girl admitted with a sob.

  ‘Never fear, child, it is to your credit that you are aware of your shortcomings, and understand the treatment needed to keep you on the righteous path. You asked for a dozen with the strap and six with the cane, did you not?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Parker,’ she replied.

  ‘Very brave of you, my sweet, but I intend to test that bravery. You will receive 18 with the strap and 12 of the best with the cane.’ Dominique gasped, as did I and many in the audience, but she made no other protest.

  Miss Parker now turned to Clarissa, who was beaming broadly, as well she might. ‘Clarissa, do you accept your penitent and the sentence passed on her? Remember, you may only decline two penitents before you lose the privilege of handing out punishment.’

  ‘Do not worry, Miss Parker, I will be perfectly happy to deal with Dominique in the manner prescribed,’ was Clarissa’s eager reply.

  The preliminaries thus despatched, Dominique was prepared for punishment. She herself bent over the wooden frame, her legs apart, a foot beside each post, and her hands clutching firmly to the bar midway down the other side. Miss Parker and the matron produced thin leather straps which were used to bind her wrists and ankles in place. By now, the audience had fallen silent, the only audible sound being Dominique’s gentle crying.

  Having secured her fast, the two lady assistants returned to their seats and Clarissa stepped forward. She had used her time to good effect, selecting a strap and a cane from the two trays. These she placed on the floor by Dominique’s feet, before seizing the hem of her dress. With one deft movement she lifted it clear, throwing it over the sobbing girl’s back to reveal a pair of pristine white drawers. But these were not to stay on for long. Pulling at the ribbons which tied each side at the waist, they were quickly undone and lowered to Dominique’s ankles.

  We were now presented with a perfect view of her bare bottom and thighs, down as far as her garters, which held up her expensive black stockings. I believe it was only at this point that it truly dawned on me we were to witness Clarissa whipping Dominique. Maybe I thought we would be asked to leave at some suitable point, but to tell you the truth, Connie my dear, I was delighted at the prospect, much as I felt sorry for poor Dominique.

  Clarissa took up the strap and slapped it lightly thrice against Dominique’s bottom, for aim, I presume. She drew it back to the height of her shoulder, paused but a moment, and then swung it down.

  It made a dreadful sound as it slapped across poor Dominique’s somewhat chubby bottom, which quivered with the impact. The girl let out a howl, which gradually subsided back into tears, before she was able to force the words “first stroke” from her lips.

  Clarissa raised the strap again, then whipped it down with much the same effect. ‘Second stroke,’ Dominique called, between the sobs which were now shaking her whole body. The punishment continued, Clarissa not allowing the poor girl any quarter, although Dominique bravely counted off each stroke as it burned her bottom.

  As each one landed I found myself jumping in my seat and wringing hands in my lap. It was as if I could feel Dominique’s pain myself. Fortunately, by the time she was calling out “seventh stroke”, Miss Prior’s hand had stolen into mine and clutched it tightly to comfort me.

  Eventually, the strap’s full measure h
ad been delivered and it was replaced on the tray with its brothers. But this only meant it was time for Clarissa to take up the cane and deliver 12 strokes with that. I had no doubt they would be hard ones. Dominique’s bottom was already a mass of red weals, as Clarissa took aim and prepared to give her more.

  As before, Clarissa placed the rod against her target, then drew it back. I held my breath, and felt Miss Prior squeezing my hand, as I waited for the cane to fall.

  After a pause which must have been but a few seconds, although it felt an eternity, the cane swept down. Poor Dominique’s bottom quivered as it landed, and she let out a blood-curdling scream, before tearfully announcing to the assembly that she had just received her first stroke.

  Clarissa caned her with an enthusiasm felt by everyone in the room. As the wicked rod landed again and again, and the unfortunate Dominique counted off the strokes of her punishment, I cast my eye around the audience. Some grinned, visibly enjoying the spectacle of the young girl’s suffering; still others trembled, their fingers going to their mouths as each blow went home. Miss Parker watched impassively, as if this were no more than a daily duty which had to be despatched before more interesting matters could be entertained.

  I also stole a look to my left, to see what Miss Prior’s expression would tell me of her mental state. And what do you think, Connie? I found her smiling at me, as if she were trying to do the very same thing.

  I quickly returned my attention to Dominique’s caning, which was reaching its peak. She took two more strokes before her sentence had been fully served, and if I am any judge of the rod’s unique song by now, I would say Clarissa laid them on extra hard. As they were given, poor Dominique wailed loud enough to wake the dead.

  Dropping the cane onto the tray, Clarissa then made Dominique decent again, pulling up her drawers roughly, with no consideration for her sensitive and sore skin. Miss Parker was joined by her assistants once more and they released the girl, helping her back onto unsteady feet. As she turned to face us we could see in the redness of her eyes and the wet streaks upon her cheeks how very painful the experience had been for her. Nevertheless, she managed a brief curtsey to the three ladies in charge of proceedings, before she and Clarissa were sent back to their seats, upon which one would sit far less comfortably than the other.