by Bella Bryce
“This is where I’m going to tell you that if you speak in that manner to me once more I will put you across my knee and give you a good smacking I’m sure you’ve been without for far too long. This is your warning,” he said, pointing a finger at her from where he sat.
Alice felt subdued for the moment having been told she wasn’t allowed to shout. It was a slight relief because she didn’t enjoy shouting. It took too much effort.
“A father is someone who has responsibility to someone under his charge and uses love and discipline to guide and direct them into maturity. Blood relation is of zero significance. Age is completely irrelevant. If I can be that person in your life then the details do not matter. Now you must try very hard to move on from your past. If you don’t, living here will be very difficult for you. I take my role very, very seriously. Starting from this moment, you will refer to me as “father” and I do not want to hear another word about it. We have other things to discuss,” Brayden said, his tone having become quite firm.
“You can’t make me,” Alice challenged him.
Brayden’s eyes darted back up to Alice and he immediately vacated his chair and walked around to where Alice sat, still blatantly defiant in her posture and mannerisms. He took her arm and with little effort, pulled Alice straight out of the chair and briskly walked across his study with her in tow. Brayden reached the large Chesterfield leather sofa where he sat down, pulled Alice across his lap and put his right arm across her protruding shoulder blades to keep her hands from interfering. Without hesitation he drew up the skirt of her pinafore and pulled her knickers right down. Brayden delivered twenty evenly spaced, hard, whacks to her bottom, causing Alice to at first wince and then to cry.
“One thing I want to get straight this instant is that I am master of this estate. It is my inheritance and I am solely responsible for everything and everyone under its roof. That most definitely includes you, Alice. Whilst I understand you were raised under different circumstances, that is no excuse for your cheek. I spent countless evenings in this study bending to my father’s cane, belt, slipper and whatever else he saw fit to rid me of attitude that he disliked, a very similar attitude that I see in you. I have a distaste for it just as my father did,” he said.
Alice remained laying across Brayden’s lap, sniffing as tears continued to skydive onto the rug below them.
“Well I am an adult,” Alice said, knowing full well that regardless of her age the situation she consented to disregarded the fact completely.
Alice’s young face and petite stature was almost a contradiction to her comment. She sincerely didn’t look older than thirteen. Brayden didn’t care how old she was; she lived under his roof as of the previous evening and that meant she was subject to Waldorf Manor rules. And those rules didn’t budge or change for any person who walked through its front doors.
“I am eighteen after all so you can’t really punish me,” Alice added, when Brayden hadn’t responded to her previous comment.
“I can and I will. And I just did,” Brayden said, very matter of fact.
Alice began to cry again, realising that she couldn’t get off of Brayden’s lap until he saw fit to let her. She had no control over the situation and she could see that he had infinite patience that would simply continue bordering her defiance until she did as she was told.
“You need this. And you want it. That is why you responded to my post, Alice. Kindly forget your absentee family. I am your father now, and this is how my house will be run,” he said.
Chapter Seven
It had been a longer introduction to Waldorf Manor than Brayden intended with an equally less fluid first conversation. Brayden had no issue with solidifying the situation through any means appropriately necessary; he just hadn’t thought it would occur so soon.
Following the episode in Brayden’s study, he put Alice to face the wall with her hands folded on top of her head for fifteen minutes so that she could think about everything that had been said and done. Alice didn’t argue further and Brayden gave her a moment to wash her tear-stained face and tidy herself before reporting back to him.
“I shan’t say another word about this. We must go downstairs now, Harriet is never late and neither am I,” Brayden said, looking at his watch. He was an adamant timekeeper and to do otherwise he felt was highly irresponsible and showed a serious lack of integrity.
Before he motioned for Alice to follow him, Brayden stood in front of her.
“I don’t know how you’ve been taught to greet strangers but you first wait until I have introduced you, and speak only when you are spoken to. Harriet is a highly regarded designer and I am paying her to design you a bespoke wardrobe. I expect you to be polite and to do as she asks. Remember that you are my daughter now and you will not embarrass me,” he said, with a gravely serious face.
Alice knew he wasn’t being fickle and didn’t want to find out if he would punish her in front of other people, so she told herself that she would do exactly as she was told.
“Harriet,” Brayden said, when he and Alice appeared in the large reception room across the foyer from the drawing room, amongst herself and two doting assistants.
“Brayden, darling, look at you,” she said, and immediately abandoned her work to embrace him.
“Thank you for coming, you must know how much I appreciate it,” Brayden said, kissing her on both cheeks.
“It’s my pleasure. I prefer house calls,” she said, touching Brayden’s arm and giving him a meaningful smile. Harriet reminded herself not to talk about Brayden’s late mother, and her best client, because Brayden hadn’t broached the subject himself. She didn’t wish to open old wounds, and the current situation that brought her back to Waldorf Manor was a more interesting topic of conversation.
“I would like to present the newest member of my family and my daughter, Alice,” Brayden said, indicating Alice was to step forward. She did so, although unsure of what, if anything else, she was meant to do.
“Hello, darling,” Harriet said, bending slightly toward her. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” she said.
Alice looked up at Brayden, who raised his eyebrows at her.
“I’m very pleased to meet you too,” Alice responded, shyly. It seemed to be the correct phrase because Harriet displayed a charmed smile. Brayden put his hand on Alice’s back as Harriet turned sideways so that her two assistants were in view.
“I’ve brought Kate and Maggie with me so that we can get as much done today as possible. It’s only just gone ten o’clock, but I suspect we can do everything before lunch,” Harriet said.
“Perfect, thank you,” Brayden said.
“Alright darling, if I can have you over here on the stand, please,” Harriet said, her tone flirting with the impression that Alice was a small child.
Alice looked up at Brayden and he gave her a reassuring nod as he let go of her hand. She tentatively followed Harriet to the nearby round stand that Kate and Maggie had placed in front of temporary, horizontally placed mirrors and folding screens, to create the scene of a mobile (but very professional and attractive) sewing shop. Alice could tell Brayden hadn’t exaggerated when he said Harriet was highly regarded; her manner was professional, charming and polite. She looked like she should be standing nearby and watching, rather than taking Alice’s measurements, in her form-fitting dress, matching heels, perfectly manicured appearance and gorgeous jewelry. Kate and Maggie watched Harriet diligently and were on hand to do everything from writing down measurements to lifting Alice’s arm when Harriet required. The three of them worked as if they’d done everything a thousand times.
Brayden stood nearby and watched. He had already looked through Harriet’s swatches several days before interviewing the girls and made Harriet aware, vaguely, that, “I will need a girl’s wardrobe, made to measure, of very particular style, although I cannot give you more details than that at this time.” Harriet had many clients who preferred to be discrete and so was not at all perplexed by
his email. She had replied quickly and sent him to her website showing the available textiles to be considered until he could provide more information. Before the interviews Brayden had also outlined in great detail, with the help of Google images, the exact cuts or types of dresses and skirts to go with the swatches of Harriet’s that he liked. That was on Wednesday of the previous week, so it was only the interview and choosing of the girl to have taken place before Harriet could proceed.
“I’ve put together some rough samples in the material you chose, Brayden, and we can pin them in place so that you can see where hems and waistlines fall,” Harriet said, as Kate knelt down to open a large trunk.
Maggie retrieved a small box of pins and stood beside Harriet awaiting instructions. Alice bit her tongue when she saw the first sample was a navy blue pleated pinafore. It looked near enough like her old primary school uniform.
“You wanted a made to measure white, peter-pan collared shirt beneath this,” Harriet said, confirming from memory one of the many outfits he’d specified.
“Yes, with navy blue piping along the collar and cuffs, with small navy buttons and a satin bow at the collar,” Brayden added, without thinking. He knew exactly how he wanted Alice to be dressed.
Alice hid the fact that she wanted to comment on the impending outfit. She had remembered what Brayden had said to her before they descended the stairs earlier . . . “I am your father, don’t embarrass me.” Alice had an inkling that complaining about an outfit he himself had planned, designed and was paying for, would count as embarrassing him. And she figured it meant she would end up in trouble, so she kept her comment to herself.
Harriet and her assistants completed nine “mock up” outfits for Brayden to have a visual of the shape of the clothing he had requested, only two of which he chose to leave out. It was impressive considering Brayden had no sisters or previous close female companions or relationships to speak of, nor any experience of designing clothes or how they should or would fit a female he hadn’t previously met. Harriet was completely impressed as well, but she would express her thoughts in an email to him and not in front of her two interns.
Brayden invited Harriet, Maggie and Kate to stay for luncheon, but the offer was regrettably declined by Harriet, who knew that Brayden had requested a tight deadline for the turn-around of Alice’s new wardrobe, which by the time they left Waldorf was at twenty-five custom made dresses, skirts and shirts, besides the nightdresses and dressing gown.
Harriet and the girls packed up their work and left before lunch was served, with word that Alice’s nightdresses, her quilted satin dressing gown and one of her dresses would be delivered that evening after dinner, with the rest of the wardrobe arriving in the coming week. Harriet had a full staff of professional seamstresses and a dozen women on sewing machines at all times, not to mention the extra three she had hired specifically for Brayden’s assignment. Harriet was able to tell Brayden straightaway from his initial email, “We can meet all of your deadlines,” much to his relief. He was just as desperate to see Alice in what he considered to be proper clothes than Alice was to not be caught dead in them. A thought she wouldn’t ever intend to speak out loud.
Brayden and Alice bid goodbye to Harriet and the girls before going to the dining room for lunch. Once they sat down, it was a quiet moment after Wellesley poured Alice a large glass of sparkling lemon water and white wine for Brayden.
“Darling you’ve not said very much about your new clothes,” Brayden commented, after swallowing his first sip of wine.
Alice really didn’t want to have the conversation with him because she didn’t know how to approach it without offending him.
“I can’t really visualise them just yet, Sir,” Alice said, trying to avoid giving an exact opinion.
“I thought you would have had quite a good imagination,” he said, replacing his wine glass on the table.
“Well, they aren’t exactly what I would have chosen,” Alice offered, wanting to be somewhat honest without being rude.
Brayden nodded, “I’m well aware of that, darling. But it’s important that you dress appropriately for living in this house,” Brayden said, not bothered by her indifference.
After luncheon Brayden walked Alice up stairs to her bedroom after having beckoned for Celia.
“Please run Miss Alice a bath and stay with her. I need to make a few phone calls,” he had said.
“Stay with me?!"
Brayden turned back to Alice and raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
"I don't need Celia to stay with me," Alice said, with a disapproving scowl.
Celia had already vacated the bedroom and was in the attached bathroom filling the bathtub.
“You need whatever it is I tell you that you need, young lady,” Brayden told her.
"I'm far too old to have someone supervise me whilst in the bath."
“That is for me to decide, and if you say another word I will smack your bottom before you take your bath. Am I understood?” he asked, his always straight posture and no-nonsense tone of voice winning the conversation. Alice nodded whilst looking at the floor. It seemed a rather quick transition from ‘somewhat doting Brayden’ to stern Brayden.
“Answer me properly,” he said, lifting her chin and looking directly into her eyes.
“Yes, Sir,” Alice said.
“Properly,” he emphasised.
Alice knew what Brayden meant and she didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to use the term he wanted to hear. She hated that word. She hated that Brayden wanted to be that person to her. Why couldn’t he just be Sir?
“Yes . . . . . . Father,” she forced herself to say.
“I expect to hear that a lot more often,” he said, satisfied.
“Well how do I know when to say it and when to say ‘Sir?” Alice asked, exasperated. “It’s so bloody confusing!”
“Alice!” he exclaimed.
“Well it is,” she added, knowing she couldn’t take back what she had already said. She remembered that Brayden said swearing wasn’t allowed. Bloody wasn’t really a swear word in her book; not that her book seemed to be the same as his book.
“No daughter of mine will use that language, but especially after I told you that swearing is a punishable offense,” Brayden said, as he took Alice by her ear over to the bed where he sat down and pulled her across his lap.
“Everybody says it, I didn’t know you considered that to be a swear word!” Alice refuted.
“You are about to find out,” he said, and pulled up her pinafore and then pulled her knickers down. Alice panicked, knowing what would happen having experienced it earlier that day. She tried to reach her hands back and cover herself but Brayden held her arms down beneath his thighs and used his other hand to deliver a sound thrashing to her backside, using his hand to hit her bottom with such force Alice had to mentally coach herself through each one, unsure if she would be able to withstand the next. Brayden smacked her soundly twelve times and waited a moment before deciding she needed another twelve. And another. Once he knew Alice was completely drowned in regret, he stopped.
“You dare to answer back to me and then to swear. Shame on you,” Brayden said, in a grave tone.
Brayden had been successful in his statement because Alice immediately felt full to the brim with shame as she closed her eyes and continued to cry.
“If you disrespect me again today after the two spankings you’ve already had, I’m going to take my belt to you. Am I perfectly understood?” he asked, in no questioning manner.
“Yes, Father,” Alice responded immediately. Just the word belt used in that kind of context scared her immensely. It sounded nothing short of awful and she did not want to experience it.
“I thought so, now up you get,” Brayden said, as he pulled her knickers up and smoothed the skirt of her pinafore back down. Alice stood up in front of Brayden, knowing that he would probably say something before he left the room.
“Go straight in and have
your bath. If you give Celia any hardship she will come and get me and you won’t be able to sit down when I am finished with you,” Brayden warned her.
“Yes, Father,” Alice said, solemnly before she turned and walked slowly to the en-suite bathroom where Celia had run a bubble bath in the oversized claw foot tub. She avoided eye contact with Celia, knowing she would have seen and heard Alice being punished in the connecting bedroom.
Once he knew Alice was in the bath under Celia’s watchful eye, Brayden retreated to his study and immediately began completing a “To Do” list he had started earlier that morning. He kept one eye on his study door the whole time, half expecting Celia to report some kind of misbehaviour from Alice. On the other hand he kept thinking, “She wouldn’t dare cross me.” His latter thinking proved correct when Celia went along later and told him, “she is clean and tidy, nails clipped, hair trimmed and looking much better, Sir.”
“Very good, Celia, thank you. I appreciate this isn’t part of your normal routine. You must know I am grateful to you,” Brayden said.
“Yes, Sir. And I’ve put her back in the nightdress and dressing gown for the moment,” Celia said.
“Thank you Celia,” Brayden said, as he stood up and capped his fountain pen. Celia left his study and followed behind, making his way toward Alice’s bedroom. He knocked twice and then entered to find Alice kneeling in the middle window seat looking out onto the front of the property. No doubt she would have been sitting down if it had been more comfortable for her to do so.
“Alice,” Brayden called to her. “Kindly stand up when I enter a room,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“Sorry, father,” she said, and did so, never having done so for any person in her life prior.
Brayden walked over to Alice and took a few strands of her freshly dried hair in his hand.
“You look much better; all that’s missing is a proper wardrobe,” he said, despising her oversized, albeit lovely, dressing gown as much as Alice did.
