The Virtuous Wife's Tale

Isabella was shown into the headmistresses study. The long journey clung to her clothes, and the dust and dirt made her feel uncomfortable. She would have preferred a bath and a rest after the journey, time to dress appropriately and arrange her hair. But it seemed as if it were imperative that she be received by the Headmistress, Miss Frobisher, before her own comfort was considered.

'Welcome to Pendragon House,' the headmistress said, motioning for Isabella to sit in the chair opposite her desk. 'Your fiancé, Lord DeVillier, had entrusted us with your care and education.'

Isabella studied the Headmistress, a small tight woman, with thin unsmiling lips and eyes dark as cinders. Her dress was plain, black, with a high neck, she wore no adornment. It seemed to Isabella that the headmistress of Pendragon House was hiding within its granite walls, keeping secrets hidden by the plainness of her attire.

'Thank you,' Isabella replied, bridling at the suggestion that she had complied with Simon at being brought to such a place. Rising from her seat she addressed the tight-lipped headmistress. 'I have to inform you Miss, that this education my future husband has forced me to undertake, is not of my choosing. In this respect I shall not submit to any lessons that I do not feel are necessary, I will learn how to act as the wife of a Lord should do, deportment, entertaining, house-management, however, beyond that I shall not partake of anything else.'

'Sit down, Isabella,' the small woman said coldly, her tone commanding total obedience and Isabella was compelled to obey. 'Perhaps I did not explain clearly enough the purpose for you being here. You may be under the mistaken premise that you are here merely to learn basic skills that can be taught by any finishing school in the country. Here at Pendragon House we pride ourselves in tailoring the education to the needs and requests of the particular circumstances, and Isabella your situation is unique.'

Miss Frobisher stopped, and Isabella thought she was waiting for a reaction from her, as if the more she became annoyed and indignant she would pose more of a challenge to the headmistress. Isabella was not going to give the crow-like woman the opportunity to lecture any further on her behaviour. Isabella began to think that perhaps silence was more infuriating to the woman than argument.

As if unconcerned with Isabella's silence, the headmistress opened a draw in the front of her desk and placed a familiar leather bound book on her desk. Isabella gasped. How on earth did they get hold of her journal?

'Yes, I see from your reaction that you recognise this book. It was given to me along with other of your possessions in order that I could devise a suitable education for you.

This was too much for Isabella, who lunged forward attempting to seize the book. 'I do not think that any of my personal scribblings are of any interest...'

'That will be for your benefactor, and betrothed to determine,' said Miss Frobisher, moving the journal from Isabella's reach. 'This document, filled with your thoughts and, I must say, interesting dalliances, will be an invaluable resource for your education.'

'But,' Isabella interrupted, 'what has my diary to do with my education?'

'A girl, such as you,' continued Miss Frobisher, as if Isabella hadn't spoken, 'one, who had been allowed an inordinate amount of freedom, must be broken in the same way an untamed horse is broken. Such an animal, if allowed to run free without constraint, eventually is impossible to ride.'

There was one thing Isabella knew, and that was how it was to train a horse. Shadow had been wild when she first set her heart on him, and it had taken time and patience to train him. Isabella wondered what sort of education lay ahead, remembering how difficult Shadow's training had been.

'Good, I see you are beginning to understand,' the headmistress said, a smile hovering on her lips. 'From the few pages I have read, your journal, is written by a wild and sinful soul, your education here is to learn how to become a virtuous wife. While you are here there are rules to be obeyed.'

Isabella listened in silence while the headmistress listed the things she may do and the many things she may not. She could not leave the grounds; with permission she may make the acquaintance of the other pupils; she will be obliged to dress accordingly. Miss Frobisher continued with the litany of Pendragon House's seemingly endless rules and regulations, and Isabella's heart sank as there seemed to be more things she could not do than she was allowed.

'Finally,' Miss Frobisher said, handing Isabella a red velvet blindfold. 'You are to meet your master, who will oversee you while you are here at Pendragon House. He will instruct you in all aspects of your education and you are to follow his instruction without question. You will not complain or refuse, for to do so will incur the wrath of your betrothed and I am certain that you do not want that.'

The blindfold, deep crimson red on the outside, lined with silk dyed black, lay in Isabella's hand. 'I will have no master. I belong and will belong to no one, we are living in an age when women are not expected acquiesce without argument.'

'Of course, everything you do within the walls of this establishment must be done of your own free-will. However, perhaps you could consider the consequences should you decide to leave. I think a life of impoverishment would not suit you, Isabella, your family will lose everything and you would have to take up paid employment as a companion or governess.'

Miss Frobisher, paused, and the thought of having to earn her living, the same as any servant or maid filled Isabella with more horror than the prospect of remaining at the school. Anyway a personal master, a schoolmaster, cannot be that awful.

'Your master has been chosen by Lord DeVillier, he will report your progress to his Lordship every week.' Seeing that Isabella was not going to argue any further she nodded at the blindfold hanging from Isabella's fingers. 'Put the blindfold on. Lord DeVillier has instructed that you do not see, hear, speak to, or know who your master is. This is the beginning of your education, to learn the virtue of acceptance.'

Isabella did as she was instructed, feeling the smooth silk against her skin, tying it behind her head until she was unable to see anything. Isabella found her other senses became more heightened, she could hear the crackle of the fire in the grate, smell the oil-lamps acrid smoke, hear the scratch of Miss Frobisher's pen. She began to think she was to sit like this forever when she heard the click of the door opening behind her, turning her head she strained to hear who had entered the room.

Soft footsteps approached, and she felt the flutter of fingers on her neck making her gasp, as if a butterfly had landed on her with trembling wings. She had never been touched with such tenderness. The fingers massaged her neck, her shoulders, flickered along her arm, sending glorious shivers down her spine.

'You will now be fitted with the collar that all our students must wear as a symbol of their commitment to their benefactor. It will bear the initials of your master and only he may remove it.'

Isabella felt soft leather against her skin, the man who was to be her master, gently lifted her hair, pulling the clasp until the collar fitted tightly, but not uncomfortably, around her neck. Once the buckle was done up, she felt his fingers run through her hair, arranging it softly around her shoulders, and then with the gentlest of touch his hands moved forward, brushing the globes of her breasts. She could smell his cologne, it smelt of danger and passion and Isabella felt her nipples tighten, all here senses sharpened by being unable to see him. She reached up to remove her mask, the hands that had been so gentle, firmly grabbed her wrists causing her to gasp. The power of his presence, the strength of him, the force in his fingers pressing on her skin was something she had never felt before, and Isabella did not want it to end.

'You are beautiful,' he whispered. 'It will be a joy instruction you.'

His voice was muffled as if his mouth was covered.

'Who are you?' she asked.

'I will reveal myself when necessary,' he continued, his voice husky, 'I am here to educate you.'

'You...' Isabella caught her breath as his hands tightened around her wrists.

'No more questions,' his voice was low and hard. 'You have much to learn, Miss Frobisher will call for you when I am ready. In the meantime,' he said, his mouth pressed against her ear, 'I shall take my leave.'

He removed his hands from her and Isabella felt as if she were in limbo, unable to see or feel him. She reached up and touched the collar as if in some way his essence was around her neck, and she knew she would wear it in the anticipation of feeling his caresses again.

'You may remove your mask,' Miss Frobisher said softly. 'However, you will always wear it when in the presence of your master.'

Reluctantly Isabella took off the mask and blinked, the dull light of the room seemed to be as bright as day and, looking around was disappointed that it was only her and Miss Frobisher in the room.

'Who...' Isabella whispered. Her senses were in confusion. 'Who is he?'

'As I have already said, you are not to know who your master is until your education is complete,' the headmistress said, her voice less sharp. 'If you are diligent with your studies and learn well then the rewards will be inestimable. Now you will be shown to your room and tomorrow we begin your education.'