by Alta Hensley
She clamped her mouth shut, deciding not to confess that she had dressed herself. Yes, it was bright and blinding, but it had been far better than the other clothes in the wardrobe that had been provided for Etta to wear.
Thomas headed for the door. "I shall leave my room open so you will be able to find me." He stepped out of her room and shut the door behind him.
Etta fumbled through the half dozen dresses that had been previously worn by Thomas's deceased wife. Would it not be odd for him to see Etta in the same clothes? Was he perhaps trying to replace his late wife with her? She had no money, the estate and finances were all tied up with her Uncle Jack. He was supposed to be saving her gowns for when she married. Had he kept his word, or would she be forced to beg a few shillings from Thomas for dresses of her own?
She settled on a white cotton gown that seemed thick enough not to reveal her nipples. What would Thomas think if he saw her naked? Her bottom still held a hint of blush from her spankings and her quim was free of any and all hair, thanks to the people at the chateau insisting she be raised and cared for as a little.
Would Thomas understand what she had gone through or think them all mad? If Philip had a hand in this arrangement of marriage, then certainly Thomas must have an inkling of what the chateau was all about. Except his look of disgust upon seeing her in that pink dress made her question everything she had learned since she arrived at Ashby.
Etta removed the gown from the hanger and disrobed as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave Thomas unattended for too long. She would have to discuss his expectations and desires. Did he wish a wife, or solely a mother to his two girls? He had shown no hint of affection toward her, which was fine with Etta. Perhaps if he was expecting a mother and nothing more, then she could get something that she desired in return. An exchange of services or goods, but what did she want?
Thomas seemed nice enough, offering Etta her own room and a small but simple wardrobe. She would insist that Uncle Jack bring her gowns. Even if she did not have the power to make such a request, Thomas could do it for her. Surely he'd be thrilled with the dresses from her time with her father, and prefer them to the gowns of his late wife.
She slipped the dress on over her head and fastened the laces at the sides, which made the gown easier to put on herself. Had his wife preferred not to be doted on? Etta headed out from the bedroom and down the hall. A lantern hung along the way, making it easy to see as she wandered toward the open bedroom.
"May I come in?" Etta asked, trying to be as polite as possible. It felt strange to be not only in this man's home, but in his bedroom. Not even at Ashby had she set foot in her papa's bedroom. Had he even had a room to stay in at night? It seemed he was always there, since he was the headmaster.
"Please, do." Thomas gestured toward the small sitting space set up in his room with a couch and table. "Have a seat."
The walls of his bedroom matched hers with the same decorative wallpaper. The biggest difference, aside from his room being twice as large, were the two paintings that hung on the walls. Etta desired to stare at them every night before falling asleep, both were tranquil and serene scenes that had been obviously painted by two different artists. Just above the incredibly large mattress sat the painting of an afternoon landscape of a prairie of wildflowers. Opposite the window, a second painting, much more abstract and grander in size, was affixed to the wall. Both paintings were quite marvelous. Were the wildflowers painted from a real place? She had never seen such beauty, and yet she wanted to go and visit it at once.
Thomas had not changed out of his clothes and Etta felt underdressed in her nightgown. "This is highly inappropriate," she stammered. "We may be betrothed, but we are not married."
A smile softened his features. "I assure you, Henrietta, that your virginity will remain intact until our wedding night."
Her cheeks blushed. "I prefer to be called Etta," she said, correcting him.
"Of course you do. Your Uncle Jack mentioned you had a bit of a temper and a mouth on you."
"You know my uncle?" Etta ignored the comment referring to her behavior. Her Uncle Jack barely knew her, and the few minutes he had spent with her were not enough for him to be able to fairly make any judgments about her as a person.
"Not personally. I knew your father. He suggested the arrangement after my wife passed."
Perhaps that explained the art and paintings affixed to his walls. His having known her father put her more at ease with Thomas. "Oh." Etta had no idea her father had found her a suitable husband. "When was this?" she asked.
"You were sixteen at the time. I suggested we meet, but he insisted to wait until after a year of mourning. My wife had just passed and he had been right, I needed a year to reflect and adjust."
Etta knew what had happened then. Her father's sickness had taken more of him away from her. He had probably forgotten he'd even promised her hand to anyone. "Why wasn't the lawyer notified?" Surely he'd have held the paperwork that divulged her father's wishes.
"A very good question indeed." Thomas reached for the tea and poured them each a cup. "How do you take your tea?"
"Without sugar," she said, and lifted the fine porcelain to her lips. The steam swirled around her chin before she opened her mouth, taking a brief taste of the piping hot liquid. It burned on its way down. Her chest felt hot and uncomfortable. Placing the cup back down on the table, the roof of her mouth burned and she knew it would feel unpleasant for the next few days. She'd have to be more careful. Philip would have certainly scolded her.
"Hot isn't it?" Thomas asked, holding his own cup in his hands, but waiting for the liquid to cool. "I know you have been dragged away from your education, but I do not believe a finishing school will teach you anything you need to know as my wife." He blew on the tea, the steam wafting to the side momentarily as he took a sip. Thomas did not so much as flinch. How did he do that? Drink such a hot liquid and not burn his mouth or throat?
"I see," Etta said, though she did not quite see what it was that Thomas wanted. "Are you desiring solely a mother for your children, or a wife as well?" She needed to know what his expectations were.
"That is quite a loaded question," Thomas said, his dark gaze locked on her. "Your father asked me to look after you, marry you, and bestow upon you the Maddock name. You will be my wife, Etta."
At least he respected her enough to call her by the name she desired. "How did you know where to find me?" Etta asked.
"I may not have known your uncle personally, but I did come upon him after I spoke with your father's estate attorney. It turns out he had sole custody of you and your dowry. He has released you into my care and once we are wed, the dowry and half the estate is mine."
"Half the estate?" Etta asked, not understanding. "What about the other half?"
"Your Uncle Jack was not so quick to part with you or your money. Surprising, since I hear he sent you away on the first night on which you arrived at his home. The past does not matter, Etta. I am your future. You will be my wife, the mother of my children, and make me happy."
Etta did not feel quite pleased with the arrangement but there were far worse situations to be in. Thomas seemed nice, his home pleasant, and it felt as though he wanted her there with him. She reached for her tea, taking another sip. The liquid had not had enough time to cool and again burned her lips. "Christ," she muttered under her breath, putting the cup on the table.
Thomas narrowed his eyes. "What was that?"
"Forgive me, sir. I continue to burn myself. I find I am not used to tea so hot and fresh," she said, trying to apologize.
"Proper ladies do not use such vulgar, blasphemous and disrespectful language in this home."
"I am sorry," Etta said again.
"That is not enough. Stand up this instant." He stared at her, waiting for her to follow his order.
Etta slowly stood up, gazing down at him fearfully.
"Take off your dress. You will be soundly thrashed for the words that slipped from t
hat tongue of yours. Be glad I am not cleaning your mouth out with soap. Luckily for you, I need the maid to fetch some, but if she were on duty at this hour, I would be shoving a bar in your mouth."
Etta wished more than anything she'd have put those stupid bloomers back on. Embarrassed, she lifted the gown up off her body, letting it hit the floor.
Thomas stood and walked over toward the bed. Sitting atop the dresser was a strip of black leather, looped over itself. "Over my knees," he said, ordering her down onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the mattress.
"What is that?"
"A strap. This is what you will get to your backside for disobeying the rules of the house."
She swallowed nervously, knowing what was to come. She had been spanked enough times now to know it would not be pleasant, though it had never been with a strap. It looked a bit like a belt, though shorter, and with less chance of landing anywhere but its intended destination.
Etta rested her stomach over his lap, her breasts brushing against his pants. He had the perfect view of her taut cheeks.
"I suggest you relax. Clenching only makes the pain worse. Spread your legs further apart," he commanded.
Etta separated her legs until they were a hands-width apart.
"More."
She guided her legs further and felt her quim open. A cool rush of air seeped toward the heat of her thighs. She buried her head downward, refusing to show her face. This was humiliating! Was this how he intended to discipline her after they were married?
The strap came down without warning, causing Etta to jump and flinch. Her hips lifted off his waist and she yelped in protest.
"Enough!" He did not seem pleased by her outburst. "You will wake the girls."
Good. Then maybe he would be forced to stop. She did not dare ask how many swats she'd get to her rear.
The strap came down again, this time between her cheeks, and with her legs separated, she could have sworn it grazed her pink pucker, forcing another whimper from her lips. He did not soften any blows by rubbing her bottom, or soothe her with any consoling words.
She knew this was discipline but it felt harsher, stricter than she was used to. Perhaps it was because she'd only said a bad word, and he was using a strap that was causing far more pain than a simple spanking with his hand would have. She had not realized how much more she preferred Nanny Mae's firm palm to anything else that landed on her bottom.
Thomas let the strap smack her arse again. A new welt blossomed on her backside, she felt certain that the blistering would take weeks to go away. The pain radiated deep below the surface of skin.
"I am sorry," she whispered. Tears did not come but the pain certainly grew with each stroke of the strap. He covered her plush cheeks, just below her bottom and two more swats to the top of her roundness. Thomas was certainly making sure to leave no area white for her lesson on proper language in his home.
Etta lost count of the number of strokes she endured with the strap. Tears finally came and soaked his pants, though Thomas made no mention of it. When he finished, he dropped the implement onto the bed.
"Stand up, look at me," he said, giving her commands. She had no choice but to follow them, afraid he'd continue spanking her raw bottom otherwise.
Etta met his stare, her eyes must have been red and swollen from crying.
"After every punishment, you will show your remorse by baring every bit of flesh for an hour. Anyone who walks in will see what you have done. They'll be witness to your swollen bottom. This is how you will atone for your sins."
She swallowed nervously. "What if your children walk in?"
"Then what better a lesson for them to learn than to see what happens when they do not obey their husband," Thomas said. "If you are shy in regards to your body, then I expect you will not make the same mistake ever again."
She reached to cover her breasts but he captured her hands in his. "Do not hide yourself from me or anyone else on this estate. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now go and stand with your nose in the corner and your hands resting on the top of your head."
She did as he ordered without saying another word.
Chapter XVIII
Regretting that he'd missed reading Etta a story last night before bed, Philip checked in on the nursery, not finding any sign of Etta. Her bed was made, the room quiet and dark.
Perhaps she was with the littles in the playroom. It was far too late for her to still be eating breakfast. Nanny Beth would have got Etta up early and made sure she was finished with her meal and bath before ten. It was nearing eleven, and he had not seen any sign of her. The littles' wing in Ashby was not that big.
Heading toward the playroom, he glanced through the glass window. He caught sight of Gracie and Leda playing quietly together. Where the blazes was his little Etta?
Nanny Beth sat with Nanny Vivian, chatting together in the corner by the door. Why was Nanny Beth not with Etta? His head spun with rage. Yes, he'd been mistaken about Nanny Mae and had been a fool to trust her, but Nanny Beth had given him no reason to doubt her. Elizabeth had done an amazing job with the young ladies at the finishing school. Why would her behavior have changed overnight?
Demanding an answer, Philip forced the door open and entered like a storm at sea. "Where is Etta?" He did not wait for her to answer as he stalked up to Nanny Beth. Leda and Gracie were coloring. The girls' heads shot up, their hands pausing over the paper with wide curious eyes.
Perhaps it was best to keep this between the adults. "Outside. Now." He headed for the door, his footsteps heavy on the carpeting as he held it open for Nanny Beth. The moment she stepped out, he let the door slam shut behind her, making it known to all that he was furious.
"Where is Etta?"
"Her papa came to retrieve her last night," Nanny Beth said.
"What?" Philip shook his head. Had he misheard the woman? "I am her papa. What are you talking about? Who came to the chateau?" His heart skipped a beat and sweat beaded on his brow. Who would come and kidnap his little girl?
Nanny Beth took a tentative step backwards, concern dawning on her face. "Oh dear. I do not remember the gentleman's name. He arrived with a carriage and had the paperwork that said that Miss Etta was to wed him. It was all in order. He even insisted he had spoken with you and that I was to release her into his care."
"How could you let a stranger take my little Etta!" Philip's fists balled at his sides in rage as he stepped closer to Nanny Beth, demanding to know the truth. Had Etta desired to leave the chateau? She'd been doing well with her training, but there had been some setbacks recently.
"I am so sorry, Headmaster Philip." Beth's voice trembled and she wrung her hands together in front of her.
"Sorry is not enough! It does not bring my Etta back!" How could she have blindly gone with a stranger? Had no one else heard the commotion and come to see what was going on? "Did she ask to leave with him?" he went on. Could she have betrayed him by asking a staff member to send a message to someone to help aid in her escape? Would she be so selfish and insolent to do such a thing?
"N-no," Nanny Beth stammered, shaking her head. "Etta was not pleased to go with the gentleman." Her entire body shook in fear and her eyes glistened with tears. "I am so sorry, Headmaster Philip. Please, do not fire me. I need this job, sir. I have a daughter at home and my husband died last December. This is the only way I am able to put food on the table and keep us from living on the street." She continued to ramble and Philip let her, his mind racing about all the terrible things that could be happening to his Etta. "I swear, if I'd had any inkling that he did not belong, I would have come and found you at once. The gentleman kept insisting that he had spoken with you and that he would bring his lawyers here if I did not release her into his custody. I know what that would do to you and this school, and the reputation you have built. I was only trying to help ward off further attention."
Philip tried to ignore the sound of her pleas. He had to look afte
r his little one. She was out there, alone with a stranger who seemed to have no respect for the system or authority. What kind of gentleman would swoop in and threaten to expose the chateau by bringing a lawyer into the discussions, unless he was trouble? Which meant Etta was in danger.
The hall spun and sweat coated his skin. He felt as though he might be sick as his heart beat in his chest at an unprecedented pace. Philip would not let anything happen to Etta. "What am I supposed to do, Beth?" he asked. How was he going to find his little love? She was gone, swept off by a stranger with a slip of paper. His anger needed not be directed at Nanny Beth. She had only done what she thought was right, and best for Etta and for the school. Slowly he had to come to terms with what she had done. It had not been to spite him.
"I am sorry, Headmaster Philip. I do not know how to find her. Perhaps if the gentleman spoke the truth and was her betrothed, then her family would know how to find her."
The pit that had formed in his stomach did not vanish but his anger slowly dissipated. Who would have had the rare stones to steal Etta from the chateau, except for Jack Waters? Had someone come to him with a better offer of marriage to his niece? One that did not involve the cost of her education, perchance?
His ears reddened and his neck flushed as though covered with a rash as anger surged through him a second time in just a few short minutes. "By any chance was the gentleman's name Jack Waters?" he asked. Could Etta's uncle have arrived at the chateau and decided against keeping her enrolled?
"No. That was not it, although the name Waters is familiar. Is that Miss Etta's name?" Nanny Beth asked.
"Yes. Henrietta Waters."
"Right!" Beth said, her eyes lighting up. "That was the name on the sheet."
It did little good for her to remember Etta's given name. Had she had an inkling of the man's name, that would have been helpful. "Did he happen to express where he was taking her?" Philip asked again.
"No. I am sorry. If they were betrothed, then I assume he was bringing her back home with him."
Philip could have deduced that much himself. He let out an anxious breath, his hands visibly shaking, though he hoped Nanny Beth had not noticed. "I need to spend some time away from the chateau. Do you think you might be able to look after the littles while I am gone? Specifically, little Gracie. She will need your guidance." He'd only assigned Etta to Nanny Beth but without Nanny Mae, Gracie needed a caring yet firm hand, and Nanny Vivian was looking after little Leda. He did not dare think what would happen between them while he was away. He would have to keep his travel plans a secret from the littles. If they had any idea that only the nannies and their papas were in charge, the place could get turned upside down.
