Lessons for Lydia

Lessons for Lydia

Chapter One

(In which Lydia learns why not ot laugh in church!)

It was a chilly October morning when I was sent away from home at the relatively tender age of eighteen. Even though I had known about it for several days and had helped the servants pack my clothes and other paraphernalia carefully into a trunk, I was still unable to hold back the tears as I bade farewell to my aunt on the steps of our house before I ascended into the waiting carriage and was driven away. As the gravelled drive ended and the carriage, kindly sent by the woman I was going to stay with, swung sharply round the bend, the house and the little knot of people outside vanished as if they had been wiped from the face of the earth and I wondered if I would ever see any of them again.

It had been on a sunny Wednesday afternoon the previous week that my aunt had called me in to the drawing room and spoken to me.

"Lydia, your grandfather has taken a turn for the worse. He is almost incapacitated now by his illness and I must go and tend to him at his home in Wales. With your own father in the Indies somewhere and no suitable chaperone nearby, I think it would be best if you went to stay with my cousin for a while."

"But why cannot I come with you, aunt, or stay here on my own?" I asked, unwilling to be foisted off on a distant relative that I had never even heard about before.

"Because I say so, child!" she snapped back angrily and I took a step back, fearing that her temper, notorious throughout the servants' quarters, would result in her striking me. "I am going to be far too busy to look after you as well as your grandfather and you cannot possibly stay here on your own. Fortunately, my cousin, Faith, is back at home in Devon with her husband, returned from the London season and she has kindly agreed to have you to stay for as long as is needed."

"Yes, aunt," I whispered as I tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill out of my sea-green eyes. I twirled a tendril of my copper-coloured hair between my finger and thumb then curtseyed obediently before I retreated, realising that if I stirred her anger again then she might order me to bend over her footstool once again.

With my father busy soldiering abroad and my mother dying giving birth to me, a calamitous event that I think persuaded my father to lose himself in Britain's vast empire overseas so that he did not have to set eyes on me, I had been given into the less than tender care of my aunt, a lifelong spinster, almost from my ill-starred birth. As I grew up and tried to develop a mind of my own, I had fallen out with Aunt Constance constantly and consequently I had suffered for it with many a chastisement. I had thought that she would treat me as a young lady now that I had reached my eighteenth year but only the week before, I had disgraced myself by having a giggling fit in church when the vicar had dropped the communion wine all down his snow-white surplice. I had tried to control myself but one of the altar boys had caught my eyes and winked and then I had dissolved into a hysterical fit of laughter that even my aunt's most evil-eyed look could not stop. I had paid for it later!

I had been called straight into her study after lunch and then forced to listen to her denigrating my bad manners and unladylike behaviour for what seemed like an eternity. After a while I had actually switched off and directed my attention to the rain pitter-pattering on the leaded lights of the window but then she had commanded me to kneel and I had looked at her aghast.

"But Aunt Constance, I am eighteen years old. You cannot treat me as a child any longer!" I had stammered, a flush staining my cheeks the same colour as my hair.

"If you act like a child then you deserve to be punished like a child, Lydia. Now kneel!"

I had shaken my head and remained standing, pride filling me as I defied her authority for the very first time.

"If you do not kneel willingly then I will call in the nearest servant and order him to make you kneel down, Lydia!" my aunt had snapped imperiously, grey eyes flashing angrily at my temerity.

I had looked at her for a few more seconds as I tried to divulge whether she would actually go that far and then I read the answer in her steadfast gaze and I knelt, unwilling to shame myself even more before the servants.

"Now lean forward over the footstool, girl," my aunt ordered and I trembled in every nerve ending as I obeyed slowly and reluctantly, thinking that I knew what was to follow. As I lay there, stomach on the stool and my head hanging off the far end and veiled by my flowing locks, she had bent down and raised my skirt to reveal my petticoats and I had flushed in shame at having my legs displayed. It had rapidly become even more shaming as, for the first time since I had become a woman rather than a girl, my aunt had raised my petticoats as well, laying them one by one over my back and baring my bottom cheeks to the chill air of the study. My blushing had deepened and fear had entered my heart as I waited for her hand to spank me until I cried.

Instead nothing happened for a moment or two and so I had twisted my head round a little and peered through my curtain of hair and then gasped in fear as I saw her standing by my side with a cane in her hand.

"Yes, some childish things must be stopped indeed, Lydia. Punishing you with my hand obviously has no real punitive effect so I am forced to choose the cane instead. As the Good Book says, spare the rod and spoil the child and I have no intention of seeing my sister's child stray from the path of the righteous."

"Please, aunt. I am sorry and I won't do such a thing again," I stuttered out, begging for mercy but her grey eyes held a malicious glint in them as she laid the cane on my shaking flesh by way of a reply and tapped the wood lightly, measuring out her stroke carefully. I submitted myself to hopelessness then and turned my head back and stared down at the patterned Persian rug beneath me as I waited in terrified trepidation for her to strike.

A soft susurration filled the air and then came an instant of blinding pain flashing before my eyes and I squealed in agony as the rod struck my naked bottom. Tears spilt copiously from my eyes at the burning sting and it was all I could do to remain in position.

"Quiet, Lydia. It is fortunate that you did not attend the same school as I did or you would be inured to this. Perhaps Faith will tell you a little bit about our days at Nethercrop or maybe she will demonstrate instead? Our teachers there always insisted that the empirical method was the best. Now you will count the strokes and if you forget then I will give you another one. Six of the best is traditional and as you made so much noise, the first one will not count."

Six? My mind darkened and terror filled my soul as the cane tapped lightly on my white globes. The wait seemed interminable but then came the sudden swish of displaced air and the stinging agony invaded my senses once more and I clenched my hands into tight fists, digging my nails into my palms as I tried to control myself. I remembered to stammer out the number and then came the second stroke. It was even harder and I found my mouth opening like a goldfish as I expelled my pain into the room while my jade-green eyes were veiled in a curtain of tears.

"Two," I managed to say, hissing the word out in pain.

" 'Two, thank you' is what is expected of any properly brought up young lady," added my aunt and I bit my tongue as I forced myself not to cry out that I did not want to be a young lady in that case. I knew that cheekiness would have resulted in extra punishment being applied and I was already struggling after just a paltry two strokes.

The third stroke whipped across my defenceless cheeks and I managed to comport myself properly, gasping out the proper words though my body did wriggle and writhe on the red leather footstool. A fourth blow hit me just at the soft juncture of buttock and thigh and I could not stop a shrill hiss emanating from my lips and my left hand automatically moved back and rubbed the soreness only to be struck instantly by the cane.

"That stroke will now be given again, Lydia, and if you repeat the offence then I will begin the whole punishment over again. You are here to learn how to behave like a young lady of good breeding."

My heart sank further, dropping like a stone into my metaphorical boots at her words and then came the pain driving into my body and soul as the cane struck again. A repeated fourth and then a fifth stroke lashed down on my rump and I squeezed the words out of my mouth along with the agony before the sixth hit me at a slight angle and criss-crossed the others like a five bar gate, causing even more agony as the previous welts were touched once more. Somehow I offered up the right words through my sobs and then the cane was in front of my lips and I had to kiss it before I was made to stand in the corner of the study with my skirts up, displaying my expertly chastised derriere to my aunt.

A knock had come at the door and I had jerked my head round in horror only to be reprimanded by my aunt for moving and told quite clearly to remain where I was. Fresh tears spilt onto my cheeks at the shame of being seen in such a state by a servant but Aunt Constance opened the door only a few inches and then whispered so softly that I could not hear what she was saying from over the other side of the room. The door shut and then my aunt walked over to me and told me in no uncertain terms to stay facing the wall and not to move under any circumstances.

"If you do then I am going to tie you down and apply another dozen strokes at least to that smarting rear of yours, Lydia. Do you understand?"

"Yes, aunt," I replied, shaking with terror at the thought and she had nodded, accepting my answer as the truth, before she had left the room.

I pressed my forehead to the wall and waited, hoping that she would not be too long and that I would be free to go to my room and suffer alone once she returned. A few minutes had passed and then the door swung open suddenly and I stiffened in shock and apprehension, hoping against hope that it was my aunt returning. It was indeed and I relaxed as she spoke then whimpered in disbelief as someone answered her and I realised that she had brought a man into the room with her. My legs threatened to give way and the cheeks of my face flushed nearly as red as my bottom ones as the conversation continued from a few feet away.

"As you can see, my niece has been chastised for her behaviour this morning, vicar."

Vicar? I let out a groan of shame and slumped against the wall in shock at the idea of the vicar looking at my cane-stained arse cheeks. How could I ever look him in the face again when I knew that he had seen my naked and well-striped buttocks?

"Indeed she has, Miss Herbert, and most skilfully too by the look of the straight lines."

"I pride myself on my ability with a rod, vicar," stated my aunt forthrightly and I hung my head in shame as they discussed the effects of a good caning and how it could alter the behaviour of the most delinquent child for the better.

"I think my niece will remember it for a while," added my aunt.

"Yes, I rather think she will. Thank you very much, Mrs Herbert, for chastising her for me and I trust I will see you both in church next Sunday?"

"Of course, vicar," responded my aunt and the voices moved further away and at last the door clicked closed and I was alone once again.

The shame and ignominy of that moment still caused me to flush scarlet as it flashed through my mind when the carriage turned out of the drive and onto the road. I had had to put up with seeing the leering face of the vicar that following Sunday, knowing that he was imagining my bare bottom cheeks striped with red lines. His sermon on the mark of Cain had, I thought, some sneering comment hidden in it for me and I was not sorry to be leaving him behind me as I headed off to my aunt's cousin, Mrs Faith Cooper in the rural county of Dorset.

Chapter Two

(In which Lydia learns the uses of a page turner)

It took close on three hours to reach the estate of Mr and Mrs Cooper and in that time the sun managed to break through the early morning mist. My mood lightened with the advent of the sun's rays striking the ground and shimmering on the dew-dropped leaves in the trees that we passed. An avenue of chestnut trees led up to the house and most were in that glorious golden stage as the leaves slowly shrivelled and shed as the autumn progressed. The house itself was impressive as was the surrounding parkland and I caught a brief glimpse of a ruined building in the far distance and a gleam from a lake before the trees blotted out any more sightseeing.

Clattering on the gravelled drive, the coach's iron--shod wheels slowed and then stopped as we came alongside the marble portico and the driver stepped down swiftly and pulled down the steps then held out his hand politely for me to dismount.

"You must be Lydia!" exclaimed a quiet but confident voice and I looked up to find a tall lady clad in grey silk watching me intently with her bright blue eyes.

"Yes, Mrs Cooper," I responded nervously and then curtseyed, remembering my aunt's strict instructions to be on my very best behaviour.

"I would have recognised you if I had come across you in the street, Lydia as you look so much like your mother. The same colour hair and those dark green eyes! They bring back bitter-sweet memories!" she commented and my mood brightened at the thought that she had actually known my mother. I stepped forward expecting a hug or a kiss on the cheek, thinking that I would enjoying the feeling of being close to this tall lady who remembered my mother but she looked at me coldly, eyes like chips of ice and I stopped abruptly.

"Now in you come and let us find you some lunch and a cup of tea. Williams, bring Miss Herbert's trunk in for her please."

I trailed after her up the steps and then into the hallway and I looked up and raised my eyebrows at the beautifully-ornate plastering of the high ceiling. Vast frames housed solemn-looking gentlemen in gaudy uniforms and Mrs Cooper remarked that they were distant ancestors of her husband as we walked down the long corridor and into a bright sunny room which faced the garden at the back of the property.

"My favourite room, Lydia, because it is usually so light and airy. Now sit down on the settee while I ring for the tea."

She walked over and pulled on the bell rope then sat in one of the small armchairs which looked out over the garden while I sat as upright as I could on the cushioned settee, conscious of her eyes observing my posture all of the time. I watched her in return as she talked about the estate, taking in the still dark hair but also the tiny crowsfeet that were just starting to appear around the corner of her sky-blue eyes and I decided that she must be in her early forties and therefore a few years younger than my aunt.

We continued to chat about inconsequential things until a servant arrived with the tea and an elaborate china cake stand filled with all sorts of goodies. I eagerly eyed the chocolate concoctions and slipped one onto my plate just as the door opened again and a thin gentleman in a frock coat strode in.

"This is our house guest, Lydia, Lydia Herbert, my dear. You remember that I told you that she would be staying here for a while?"

"Of course I do, my dear, and I do beg your pardon for being late to come and greet Miss Herbert but I was just painting..."

"Another picture of the grounds I suppose? It's about time you painted something else, Oliver. Wasting your time when you should be instructing the estate manager what to do.

"Yes, dear. I will go and see him this afternoon and make it clear that you think that we should be grazing more sheep this year. Now may I have a cup of tea and one of those delicious looking cakes?"

"No!" Faith snapped abruptly and I half-jumped off my cushioned settee at the vehemence in her voice. "You may go and find Mr Dawkins and discuss the matter of the sheep and then rejoin us for dinner."

Mr Cooper flushed and then turned on his heel and left and I sat there feeling sorry for him. My hostess watched him carefully then turned her attention back to me when the door shut behind him and I shivered at the coldness in her eyes.

"One eats a chocolate cake with a pastry fork, girl, to avoid dropping crumbs which might mark your clothes. I am surprised that Constance has not instructed you in the higher points of etiquette and deportment. You will never manage to snare a rich husband unless you carry yourself well. Head up and glide as we were taught at Nethercrop all those years ago. Now I do believe that Constance was going to give you a letter for me?"

"Um yes, Mrs Cooper. I have it in my valise."

"A well brought up girl would have ensured that I received it immediately!" commented the woman and I gritted my teeth and restrained myself from making a sarcastic comment in return. "Never mind. One of the servants can retrieve it later."

Feeling thoroughly rebuked, I chewed decorously on the delicious cake even though the taste of it suddenly turned to ashes in my mouth and then sipped daintily at my tea in its delicate porcelain cup. I went to put the cup back down on the tea tray just as the maidservant bent down to pick the tray up. There was a wild slide of the china along the surface of the tray and then the maid managed to control everything apart from my cup which rolled off the edge and fell onto the floor, tipping tea on the rug but remaining intact.

"I am sorry. That was my fault!" I said into the sudden silence and I watched the servant's eyes widen and her face go as pale as milk as Mrs Cooper stared icily at her.

"At least it isn't broken," I added, trying to be helpful but then Faith's blue eyes turned on me and I quailed before her anger.

"I expect my servants to be far more capable than that, Miss Herbert! Go and wait for me in my study, Annie, and reflect upon your sins whilst you are there. I think, Miss Herbert, that you could just do with a little exercise so perhaps a brisk walk around the gardens would be good for you?"

Although it was framed as a question, I recognised an order when I heard one and so I stood up and was escorted outside by Mrs Cooper who showed me a pretty little walk that circled the impressively colourful flower beds before she returned to the house. After about half an hour, a servant came out and informed me that her mistress was ready to see me once more. Wondering what had occurred betwixt the mistress and her errant servant, I hastened back into the house and found Faith standing stiffly in the garden room, eyes still demonstrating her annoyance. I raised an eyebrow but she ignored my subtle enquiry and simply informed me that Rogers, my maid for the duration of my stay, would show me up to my room and help me unpack.

"She has already found the letter that your aunt sent and I will read it before dinner. Now I am sure that you would like to freshen up after your journey, Lydia," she concluded with an imperious sweep of her hand and so I followed the maid out into the hallway and then up the sweeping staircase. Turning left at the top, the maid bustled along, hips swaying merrily from side to side, until she reached the end of the corridor and then she pushed open the panelled oak door and announced that we had reached my room.

"It has a lovely view out over the lake," she announced brightly as she opened the lid of my trunk and soon she was hanging clothes up for me and generally fussing about. A timid knock at the door stopped her for a moment and she opened it to reveal a young tweeny carrying a jug of hot water which she placed carefully on the marble-topped wash stand by the window before she left as quietly as she could, scurrying away like a church mouse.