The Reformer

by Breanna Hayse

  “Y-yes, Papa,” Eliza shivered, turning to show him her bruises.

  He placed his hand on her right cheek and patted it. “Very good. That was not so difficult now, was it? Follow me,” Gerard said, ignoring the tearful glance she offered him. Martha met them at the door, her solid, broad body filling the frame. She scowled at Eliza, arms crossed and holding a large wooden spoon.

  “Eliza, this is Mrs. Stiller. She will be your nanny.”

  “Nanny? I am quite capable of—Let go of me!” Eliza screamed as Gerard lifted her across the knee which he had raised on a step. He quickly exposed her bruised bottom to Martha and the carriage driver before proceeding to cover it with hard, heavy slaps. Eliza’s screams turned to tears as he repeatedly assaulted her already-tender flesh, making certain that she experienced full contact with the flat of his broad hands that had callused from many years of riding and working alongside his tenants.

  “I’m sorry!” she yelled, kicking and crying, hearing the sound of her spanking echo in the courtyard. “For the love of God, I’m sorry!”

  “I seriously doubt you are, but I promise you soon will be. Martha, please show Eliza to her room and set her in a corner until I come up. If she budges, use your spoon on her.”

  “Yes, sir, Lord Remington. Come, girl, and stop your sniveling,” Martha ordered the crying woman.

  “I hate all of you!” Eliza spouted as she stomped her foot, earning herself a swat on the rump with Martha’s spoon. She shrieked, quickly grabbing her offended backside.

  Martha pointed the spoon at her, “Watch your tongue, child. You are not here to make friends. Move!”

  Eliza winced as she passed several of the silent servants before mounting two flights of stairs. She followed Martha’s finger to a door and entered the room, her mouthing hanging open as she surveyed its contents. It was papered with tiny light pink flowers and all the furnishings were white. It was the specific furnishing, though, that left her flabbergasted. An oversized crib made up with white blankets sat against one wall. In the corner closest to the door swung a bassinet the size of a small couch, hanging from the ceiling by chains interlaced with pink ribbons. A large dresser rested neatly next to an open closet filled with clothing, and an armless rocking chair occupied the space next to the crib. Finally, a small student desk decorated with pink stationary and a feminine pink and white tiffany lamp shade over a candle base and a matching straight-backed chair were primly placed next to a large wooden box. Eliza squinted her eyes, trying to determine the contents. Toys? This could not be happening! She looked at Martha with horror.

  “Well? Don’t stand there like a loon. Gather your skirt up past your bum, and put that nose of yours into the corner,” Martha commanded, tapping her foot impatiently. Eliza narrowed her eyes and then glanced at the wicked spoon held in the old woman’s right hand. Muttering under her breath, Eliza made her way to the far corner and lifted her dress from the back.

  Minutes ticked by with Eliza growing even angrier. How dare he make her wait, and like this! She was planning on having a few words with the high and mighty earl, as soon as she was safely out of reach of his heavy hand. The sound of footsteps reached her ears, and Eliza held her breath. What was he planning now?

  “Hmm, it appears that you have a way of gaining obedience with this one, Martha. Very good. Please prepare her bath and a change of clothing.”

  “Food, sir?”

  “No, I think she needs to experience what an empty stomach feels like for a bit, since she was so determined to deny food to the students. Thank you, Martha. Eliza, thank Martha for your new room.”

  “This is ludicrous,” Eliza hissed turning around, dropping her skirts as she put her hands on her hips. “If this is what you consider reform, then I say to bloody hell with it!”

  “My, my… such language out of one so young. Mind me, miss,” Gerard approached her slowly, noticing the nervous flutter of her lips, “if either Martha or myself hears another bout of profanity from you, a soaping will be happening. I have many ways of cleaning the inappropriate behaviors from a young lady.”

  “This is—”

  “You don’t learn very quickly, do you? Very well,” Gerard sighed, grabbing her earlobe once again and forcing her to bend over the rails of the crib. She fought him without success as he threw her dress over her head and tore away the thin knickers from her already bruised posterior. His hand clapped loudly upon her sit spots, making her yell out in pain. She gasped as the next strike landed upon the backs of her thighs. Helpless sobs were heard as Gerard silently colored the pale portions a bright, angry red. Satisfied that the woman had finally learned her lesson, he turned her to the corner, tucking her skirts under her collar to expose her bared bottom.

  Eliza wept loudly between the agonizing pain and despair, feeling alone and afraid in her new environment. She longed to be comforted, even by the prune-faced nanny. But she received no touch, no kind words, and no offering of solace. How could anyone be so cruel? Her heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that she could be this unkind? Those girls at the school…What comfort did she offer them? They did not deserve it in the least. They were unalterable. Did that mean that she was as they, inveterate liars, thieves, and rebels?

  No! Eliza Woods was sent to the reformer for only one thing, to learn more from him about how to force a change! Of course! He was testing her and challenging her techniques, seeing how far she could go before she broke! He must admire her strength and endurance and was showing her that those horrid girls could withstand far more than that which she had administered. And to rise above the humiliation of that morning would provide her with even greater power. She grudgingly admitted that his plan was brilliant and that this time with the reformer would help her increase her control and authority!

  Gerard shook his head as his watched Eliza’s posture. Instead of slumping into one of submission, he noticed that she stiffened and held her body in a defiant air. Yes, this one would require special treatment, for certain. She would learn, though… the easy way, or his way.

  “Eliza, turn around,” he said softly, still sitting on the straight-backed chair with his feet flat on the floor. He watched her chin rise as she slowly obeyed. “What are you thinking, child? Speak freely.”

  “I am not a child, and I resent being treated as such. I am a well-educated woman and a scholar of academic instruction. You, sir, are nothing more than a banker with a lot of money to throw around.”

  “Hmm, is that what you think?” Gerard asked with amusement, noting her discomfort at not being asked to sit for their discussion. “You are my… how many, Martha?”

  “Eighteen, sir.”

  “Thank you. You are the eighteenth child brought to me to reform. You say you are not a child, yet your behavior speaks differently. You lack manners, dignity, and the basics of self-control. Your interpersonal skills are atrocious, and your language… I don’t even wish to discuss your temper tantrums. Most young children I know would not have dreamed of behaving in such a manner. Why do you?”

  “May I sit?”

  “No, you may stand there while I speak with you. Tell me about your childhood, Eliza.”

  “I do not wish to discuss my personal business with you.”

  “Very well. You have until tomorrow evening to present a paper to me regarding the reasons for your behavior. I want details. Should you choose not to obey me, we will take a trip to the barn where I will introduce you to the horse and strap. Martha? Is her bath ready?”

  “Yes, Your Lordship.”

  “Please bathe her and put her down for a nap. This one needs a new beginning,” Gerard said, standing. He cupped Eliza’s chin in one large hand as he gazed down into her cold eyes. “I will break that shell and then turn you into the woman you are meant to be. With or without your assistance. I do not accept failure as an option when it comes to my girls.”

  His girls? Eliza felt a choke in her throat, dismissing it for anger. She watched as he departed and silently fo
llowed Martha’s finger to the bathing area. Martha helped her undress and settled her into the large copper tub of steaming hot water. Eliza stayed kneeling as her bruised back end protested the heat, finding herself being pushed firmly into the water.

  “Sit still while I wash your hair,” Martha ordered. “And wipe that scowl off your face, young lady. Lord Remington has had about enough of your ill manners.”

  “You’re a woman, Martha, how can you condone his treatment of me?”

  “You will call me Nanny Stiller, little girl. As for his treatment, consider yourself fortunate that he decided to reform you and not issue you off to any of the others. With Lord Remington, your virtue will remain intact, and he will not give up until you have met his standards of perfection.”

  “My virtue? These reformers are animals!” Eliza shouted. Martha frowned and pushed her head under the water. Eliza quickly popped up, coughing. “Why did you do that?”

  “Your reformer is a gentleman and a student of the new psychology. Do not ever insult him or any member of his family within range of my ears, or I will skin you alive.”

  Eliza stared at her. What did the Remingtons do to earn such loyalty? Every person she knew would gladly throw her in front of a cart out of pure envy. She quickly stood, shivering, as Martha roughly dried her off with a large towel. After she brushed and braided Eliza’s hair, the woman pointed to a broad table along the wall.

  “Climb up there.”

  “But—OW!” Eliza squeaked as Martha’s hand fell sharply against a damp bottom cheek. Eliza scrambled onto the table, clutching the towel around her. With her mouth set in a grim line, Martha slipped a cotton nightgown over Eliza’s damp head. She then produced a square of cotton cloth.

  “Lay down on your back.”

  “Why? Oh, no you can’t!” Eliza protested when she saw the cloth being folded into a triangle. Martha gave no warning as she grabbed the woman’s ankles, holding both in one hand as she lifted them high into the air. Her right hand slapped ten times against the backs of her wet thighs, making Eliza screech and wriggle in pain. Still holding her legs high, Martha slipped the cloth under Eliza’s bottom and then dropped her legs to the table while pulling the point of the triangle up between them. She held Eliza down with her elbow as she secured the side with two over-sized pins.

  “It this comes off for any reason, the punishment you receive will be one that you will never forget. And Lord Remington will be the one giving it. Mind me.”

  Eliza cried into her hands, her degradation intolerable. Martha yanked her off the table and pulled her by the wrist back to the nursery.

  Martha pointed to the basinet. “You will sleep in there until we feel you are mature enough to be in a crib. In with you now.”

  Eliza glared at her with red-rimmed, tired eyes, before carefully easing her way into the unsteady swing. Martha nodded with approval, drawing the blanket up to the woman’s chin.

  “That’s a good girl. Are you thirsty?” Martha asked softly, reaching down to stroke her inflamed face. Eliza nodded and was revolted to see a glass feeding bottle with a rubber teat being lifted to her lips! Martha took advantage of the moment and quickly plugged the teat into Eliza’s mouth, not allowing her to push it out.

  “Drink all of it, child. It’s just water.”

  Eliza was unable to fight back and started to swallow the fluid that was dripping down her throat. Despite the horrid device, she realized that she was parched and began to suck nosily on the teat, trying to get every drop of water that she could. Before she realized it, the bottle was empty. Martha handed her another one and smiled as Eliza quickly emptied that one as well.

  “That is a very good little girl. His Lordship will be in to see you, and then you are to nap. Do not leave this bassinet for any reason.”

  Eliza said nothing as she fought the overwhelming urge to sink into the soft, fragrant linens and drift off in exhausted slumber. No, she was not going to give in to this lunatic’s methods for anything. She watched as Martha greeted the earl and departed.

  Gerard pulled the rocking chair up to the basinet and began to slowly push it. Eliza gripped the sides, finding him gently untangling her fingers from the linens. “Easy now, love. Shhh, it’s time to nap. You’ve had a rough start here, and maybe, when you wake, you’ll make some better choices. Hmm?”

  “I hate you,” Eliza growled.

  The earl laughed. “Yes, I know. It is the same statement from every girl I’ve brought into my home, starting with my own beloved wife. And everyone left here, loving their Papa and promising to make him proud. You will do the same.”

  “I will die first.”

  “I doubt that. Now close your eyes. Would you like a bedtime story? Perhaps a fairy tale?”

  “You are not going to read—”

  “Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…” Gerard interrupted in his low, warm voice, reading aloud the same story with which he had, for many years, lulled his girls to sleep. In no time, his newest acquisition had fallen into a peaceful slumber. He met Martha downstairs, accepting the cup of tea she had readied for him.

  “She is going to be difficult, sir,” Martha stated bitterly. “I do not recall ever having one with this degree of pride.”

  “Yes, but let us try to see the prize that she will become. Call for me when she awakens.”

  “Yes, sir, but her personal needs…”

  “I need to earn her trust. I will tend to them. Ah, before you scold me, I will have you know that this is the Lady Remington’s idea, and I do so upon her insistence. She knows the mind of a stubborn girl much more than you and I.”

  “Yes, sir. Please pardon me.”

  Gerard released a low chuckle as he watched the governess exit, a disapproving look on her already sour face. He winked at the giggles of the housemaids and butler, knowing they also enjoyed Martha's discontent, and watched as they disappeared from his view.

  Chapter Six

  Brigit sighed, closing the punishment log. She felt discouraged, seeing that the prior headmistresses has been more concerned with minor infractions that her students’ abilities. Several of the girls, Aryanna included, had been punished severely for ‘drawing pictures on their slates’. Having raised a son who demonstrated a greater aptitude for the arts than the hard sciences, she understood the frustration of these children. Two had tried to run away and had been whipped.

  Whipped! Brigit shuddered, remembering a time when she had experienced the lash after running in front of a carriage. A stroke had left a thin scar on her forearm where she had covered her face. She returned to the log, reading of how others had been punished for more serious deeds such as stealing another girl’s necklace, cheating on tests, profanity, and tardiness.

  Brigit smiled, recalling her training. Gerard had a zero tolerance policy for both unseemly words and lack of promptness. Both, he considered, were blatant forms of disrespect, and he would have nothing of it. She recalled several times, even after their marriage, when he had firmly reminded her that his intent was to continue with his policy of respect. Gerard was an incredible man and had fathered an incredible son. Together, the pair were formidable opponents to an archaic system that had left so many women to die in the gutter. She was proud of her men, and she took her role just as seriously. There was a tremendous amount of healing to be done in this establishment.

  “Louisa? Will you please find these girls and have them come see me? No, my darling, don’t be afraid for them. There is no one in trouble,” Brigit smiled kindly at the young girl who was assigned to assist her that day. Louisa performed a quick, clumsy curtsy and ran quickly from the headmistress’ office. Moments later, three young women aged eighteen to twenty arrived with their heads bowed low and visibly shaking with fright. Brigit puckered her brow and walked over to them, folding the three in her arms.

  “My poor babies. I am so sorry. It will be fine now. Shhh, no tears. I know you’re afraid. I did not call you here to punish you,” Brigit consoled them
as they suddenly broke out in terrified sobs. She had them sit in chairs in front of the desk and asked Louisa to bring them all some fresh water.

  “I understand that you are artists, yes?”

  “No, ma’am!” the three shrieked, shaking their heads frantically.

  “Children, there is no wrong in having a talent. My own son was known to doodle during his lessons, and rarely did he turn in a paper that lacked some sort of artwork,” Brigit smiled.

  “L-lord Ryan, madam?”

  “Yes, Lord Ryan. He is very good, too. Could you show me what you three can draw? Please?”

  The girls looked at one another fearfully. One lifted her hand, showing an ugly bruise across her knuckles. “The headmistress said I was never to draw again, Lady Remington. She struck me with the school paddle.”

  “On your hand!? Oh, my child…” Brigit exclaimed, the shock evident on her face. Her green eyes grew angry. “I promise you that you will never be hurt like that again. I also promise you that Miss Woods will be receiving what she deserves after harming you. What she did was wrong.”

  “Is she really with a reformer? The man who…”

  “Who spanked her. Yes. That is Lord Remington, my husband, and I assure you, he will not allow such an affront go unpunished.”

  “She hurt Aryanna too, for not being able to speak properly,” the youngest girl whimpered. “I liked Ary. She was nice to me and brushed my hair.”

  “Ary is safe now, darling. She is with Lord Ryan being healed and taught. He is a very good teacher.”

  “But he’s a reformer! Won’t he hurt her?” the girl asked fearfully.

  Brigit smiled, “No, he will never harm her. He just wants to help her. Now, could you show me your art?”

  Three smiles slowly lit up the room as they picked up their pencils and began to draw.

  * * *

  Eliza woke, staring at the ceiling and momentarily bewildered. She groaned as the feeling awakened in her backside, and she shifted to relieve the pressure. The bassinet rocked, making her grab the sides fearfully.