by Golden Angel
There was some part of her mind which refused to be reasoned with, much to her despair.
When Lydia arrived, accompanied by Arabella and Mrs. Hood, Christina felt almost faint with the relief of being rescued from herself and her destructive thoughts by her new sisters-in-law and Arabella’s best friend. She’d told Mr. Jones she was only at-home to close friends and family, as she hadn’t the patience for dealing with gossipy acquaintances while she was so overwrought with nerves, but she hadn’t expected any to come by.
She’d asked Jones to show them into the drawing room, while Christina quickly looked herself over to ensure she did not appear as wild as she felt. After all, she’d noticed the ladies were always impeccably turned out and she did not want them to think less of her. Stepping into the drawing room to greet the beautiful bevy of women, Christina nearly sighed at how serenely perfect they all appeared.
Dressed in a beautiful mint and cream striped walking dress, Lydia looked every inch the perfect lady with every last hair tucked gently into place. She smiled wide at Christina’s entrance, standing to greet her. Rising with her, Arabella and Mrs. Hood were also looking quite well, although they always seemed just a touch less self-assured than Lydia did. Mrs. Hood was wearing a rose pink gown which nicely suited her pink and cream complexion and light brown hair, while Arabella’s pale yellow dress trimmed with pale blue was both perfectly respectable for a debutante and contrasted nicely with her dark eyes and hair.
After they exchanged greetings and Christina rang for tea, Lydia struck up a conversation with Christina about the new rose hybrid Mrs. Thomas would be displaying at Kew Gardens in two days. The younger two ladies pretended interest for all for two minutes before they fell to a whispered conversation between the two of them, which both Christina and Lydia ignored, although they exchanged a kind of knowingly amused look. It was very likely their conversation revolved around the various gentlemen who were competing for Arabella’s hand.
Just after the tea arrived, a slight commotion in the hall had all the occupants of the room frowning and sitting up.
“No, because I know they are here… oh, fuss, just announce me and if Lady Christina wishes to turn me away, then I will go.” The words were only slightly muffled by the closed door, and the voice sounded somewhat familiar to Christina, but Arabella and Mrs. Hood fell into fits of giggles, obviously immediately identifying the voice’s owner without trouble.
A moment later, the door opened to admit a rather harried looking Jones.
“Lady Spencer is-”
“Here and most insistent on being admitted,” Lady Spencer said cheerfully, bustling past poor Jones, who looked on the verge of apoplexy. A vision in red and gold, her dress’ low neckline was just barely decent for making house calls, although her ample curves were part of what made it appear so. On a slimmer figure, the dress would barely cause comment at all.
“It’s quite all right, Jones,” Christina said, smiling at her poor butler. While she and Lady Spencer had met several times and she rather liked the young, brash, and occasionally haughty young woman, she had not included her on the list of those to be admitted. However, she knew the young woman was an especial friend of Arabella and Mrs. Hood, and - despite Lydia’s strict adherence to proprieties - that Lydia liked her a great deal as well. “Lady Spencer is most welcome to join us.”
Sniffing his opinion, Jones nodded and closed the door, his stiff upper lip obviously sorely tested by the lady.
“Wonderful,” Lady Spencer said, before greeting each lady in turn and plopping down on the chaise across from Mrs. Hood and Arabella. She beamed at Christina. “Please accept my apologies for barging in and interrupting your afternoon, I’m normally not so intrusive, but I am quite desperate. I originally called upon Gabrielle, but was informed she’d gone to see Arabella, and when I arrived at Manchester House I was told all the ladies had come here, and so I really had no choice but to follow.”
Despite the impetuous manner in which she’d inserted herself - or perhaps because of it - Christina certainly didn’t mind at all. If anyone could help distract her, it was the irrepressible, entirely Original and not entirely proper Lady Spencer.
“I hope your desperate situation is not entirely dire,” she said, smiling as she poured Lady Spencer a cup of tea.
“Cynthia’s situations are always dire, which is why I adore her,” Arabella said, laughing. “What is it this time, dearest?”
“My house has been overrun, and I’ve been entirely cut out,” Lady Spencer said dramatically, wrinkling her nose. She thanked Christina for the tea cup, taking it in hand as she continued. “The gentlemen have shut themselves away in Wesley’s billiards room for smoking, drinking, and play. And Wesley set a footman to watch on the hall so I couldn’t even listen to their conversation at the keyhole.” All of this was said with utmost frustration. “Although I can guess what they’re speaking of,” she said rather darkly, as a scowl creased her forehead.
The others were all smiling at Lady Spencer’s dramatic pronouncements, so Christina did not bother to hide her own amusement. It did not hurt that Lady Spencer’s description was quite easy to picture and did much to set Christina’s mind at ease. Even the most illogical side of her could not imagine a scenario where the Baroness might sneak into the Earl of Spencer’s house, past a footman guard, and into the billiard room to steal Benedict away from his friends. For the first time since Benedict had left the house with his brother, Christina relaxed completely.
Lady Spencer would immediately be added to Jones’ list of close friends and family she decided. The upright butler would probably not approve, but he would have to resign himself to her admittance.
“What are they speaking of?” Mrs. Hood asked, as Lady Spencer was obviously waiting for encouragement to continue her tale.
“They’re having a spanking cabal!” Lady Spencer announced dramatically. Christina nearly dropped her cup of tea as her bottom suddenly tingled, her face flushing with embarrassed heat. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid anyone’s gaze. “Wesley says they’ve started a club! He told me so this morning when he informed me they were meeting.”
Wait… but if the Earl of Spencer were forming the club and Isaac had taken Benedict there, then that meant… Christina’s eyes darted between Lady Spencer and Lydia. The former was still scowling darkly, while the latter was blushing nearly as brightly as Christina was!
“Cynthia, this is not appropriate conversation for an unmarried young lady to be present for,” Lydia said calmly, despite the two spots of color high in her cheeks. They became even brighter when she turned her gaze towards Arabella, but she did not lose her composure. Christina admired her fortitude.
“Oh, I already know,” Arabella said artlessly, waving her hand. “Although I don’t understand Cynthia’s obsession with being spanked. I hated it when Isaac did it.”
“I told you, it’s different,” Mrs. Hood said, sounding somewhat aggrieved. She elbowed her best friend in the side, practically rolling her eyes with the air of someone tired of repeating herself. “He’s not going to spank you the same way your husband would.”
“My husband won’t spank me at all,” Arabella shot back. “I’ll just distract him by offering to pleasure him with my mouth.”
“That doesn’t-”
“Girls!” Lydia’s shocked tones cut through their squabbling as Christina’s jaw dropped open. The Duchess had now lost her composure, looking aghast and entirely at sea, struggling to decide what to say now that she’d ended their completely inappropriate conversation. “Arabella… you should not… you can’t… where…”
“Oh, don’t fuss, Lydia,” Arabella said, shaking her head. “I assure you, I would not speak of such things in front of Isaac or Benedict, or ever in polite company, but it is just us.”
“And we are not entirely polite,” Lady Spencer murmured. She shrugged, looking almost apologetic when Lydia glared at her. “I do not approve in general of keeping young women in the dark about
what the marriage bed holds, especially when they show themselves to be naturally curious. If you want to ensure she will avoid ruin, then she must know what being ruined actually entails.”
Logically what Lady Spencer said made sense, but it was so backwards to common custom…
Throwing her hands up in the air, Lydia let out an exasperated sigh before glowering at Lady Spencer. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
“Hopefully keep my secrets from my husband,” Lady Spencer said cheerfully. “While I might like being spanked, he is in possession of several tactics I do not find nearly as enjoyable.” She turned her gaze to Christina, tilting her head to the side. “You’ve been very quiet, Lady Christina, have we shocked you out of all bounds?”
“I am a bit shocked, yes,” Christina said, although her own sense of humor was quickly rising. After all, it was just a small, select group of ladies involved in this highly inappropriate conversation. A small, select group which apparently had something in common. “Mostly because I did not realize how commonplace such discipline was among our set.”
Her previous husband and lovers certainly hadn’t hinted at any such interest.
“I think it’s the men we chose,” Lydia said, with another sigh, as if resigning herself to the inevitability of discussion.
“You chose, I had chosen for me,” Mrs. Hood said. A little smile curved her lips, her eyes suddenly looking far away. “It was not a bad bargain in the end, I suppose.” Despite the lack of enthusiasm in her word choice, it was obvious from her tone and expression that she was happily content with her relationship, and Christina felt a spurt of envy.
Still, her curiosity over Lady Spencer’s statement about enjoying her spanking and Arabella’s assertion that the lady was obsessed with them overruled all other emotions. Christina focused on the lady in question, who was quietly sipping her tea as if she hadn’t completely overturned the rules of polite society just moments before.
“Lady Spencer -”
“Please, call me Cynthia,” the lady said, smiling widely. “I’m sure we’re going to be quite good friends and I prefer not to stand on ceremony. Besides, we spanked wives should be close, don’t you think? If we’re going to speak of spankings, we should be able to call each other by our Christian names.”
Pressing her lips together to hold back her laughter, as Lydia again gave Cynthia a reproving look, Christina marshaled her thoughts. She felt… good. Although she loved Daphne like a sister and the two of them often confided in each other, she’d never been part of such an open, warm conversation with so many different women before. She should certainly invite Daphne to their next gathering, it would be interesting to see if anything could shock Lady Cynthia Spencer - and if anyone could, it would be Daphne.
“Cynthia,” Christina began again, and then hesitated. Despite her curiosity, she couldn’t bring herself to be as brazen to ask the question she desperately wanted to ask. What if she had misunderstood? What would the other women think? “You… you said you found some part of a spanking enjoyable?”
“Oh yes,” Cynthia said, her eyes sparkling wickedly. “Don’t let Lydia’s stuffiness fool you, she likes it quite a bit as well.”
“Madness,” Arabella mumbled, looking away, obviously uncomfortable hearing such a bald statement about her sister-in-law’s relations with her brother.
“Not as much the actual spanking,” Lydia said, protesting. “Just… what comes after is rather nice.”
“Only if it’s a playful spanking,” Mrs. Hood said, speaking up again. Christina supposed she should start thinking of the young woman as Gabrielle, if they were going to be speaking of this. Cynthia was correct; it seemed silly to maintain formality when they were talking of such intimate matters. “I do not like the real spankings at all.”
“But you still enjoy what comes after, even after the real ones,” Cynthia pointed out.
The smile on her face almost made her cheeks hurt as the ladies began to argue the various merits of spanking. For once, Arabella was rather quiet, obviously both listening and disbelieving, but curious all the same, taking in all the information the ladies were now indiscreetly sharing. Yes, Christina would certainly have to have Daphne join them sometime. She also looked forward to getting to know the other ladies which were brought up during conversation - she’d had no idea so many of her acquaintances were so adventurous! Or required so much discipline!
******
Watching his wife whirling around the floor in his brother’s arms, not far from where his sister was dancing with the eminently respectable Lord Charters, Benedict smiled. He could tell Arabella was bored to tears by Lord Charters, but to her credit he doubted anyone else outside his family and Gabrielle realized. Arabella really had been on her best behavior this Season, thanks in large part to Lydia’s influence.
“You have the oddest expression on your face,” Lydia murmured from beside him, going up on her toes to try and see what he was looking at. Being quite a bit shorter than him, with such a crush between their position and the dance floor, it was quite impossible.
“Just thinking about what a good influence you’ve been on Arabella,” he said, smiling down at her. “This Season has been like heaven after last year.”
Lydia shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing slightly at the movement. “Perhaps for you. I’m only relieved I never had to do this with Amy. Although, she would have been a good deal easier to manage than Arabella.”
“How is Mrs. Tilding?” Benedict asked, a smile tugging at his lips. Amy and her husband had joined the Manchester household for Christmas, but had not come to London for the Season. Tilding, a cousin of the Duke of Kent, was restoring a manor estate to its former glory; he’d been promised to have it bestowed upon him if he could do so successfully. Although Amy had been curious about London, she’d wanted to stay with her husband, as they were only a few months wed at the time anyway.
Benedict was friends with Tilding, although not in the same manner he’d become friends with Wesley, Philip, and the Hood brothers, and from what he knew of the man he doubted they’d spend much time in London in future years either. Like Isaac, Tilding preferred the countryside; which suited both Lydia and Amy very well.
“Very happily helping Joseph with the restorations,” Lydia said, smiling. “She’s become much more serious as a result of all the hard work, but I think she’s enjoying it. Amy always did love a challenge.” Her smile slipped, just a touch. “Also… I believe the work helps to distract her.”
Distract her from the disturbing revelations about her which had come to light at a house party in the late summer. The same house party where Amy’s father’s mind had finally snapped and the poor thing had witnessed it before being bundled into a carriage for an elopement in case her father had somehow escaped justice. The man had been blackmailing Lydia by threatening to marry Amy to a man who only desired a glorified nursemaid for his many children if Lydia didn’t do everything he ordered.
Now they were both safe from him, but the younger sister still mourned the loving father who’d raised her.
Her husband kept her from being too melancholy though, and celebrating the Yuletide at Manchester House, where there were no memories to overtake the sisters had certainly helped. As Tilding’s manor house was not far from Amy’s old one, where the new Earl resided, Benedict thought it was probably beneficial for the young woman to have a project to focus on.
A hand suddenly grasped at his arm, on the opposite side of Lydia, startling him so badly he jumped as the feminine fingers closed about his elbow like a steel vise. He bit down on his lip hard to keep from shouting a curse in the middle of the ballroom, which certainly would have caused a scene.
“She’s here,” hissed an irate looking Lady Marley, clinging to his elbow like a limpet, barely glancing at Lydia who was now looking around Benedict curiously to see what was going on.
“Who?” Benedict asked, a little wildly, as he tried to convince his pulse to return to its nor
mal rate. His mind felt a little bit slower than normal, as though all the blood had rushed away from it.
“The harlot,” Daphne ground out harshly, making Lydia’s eyes go wide. Immediately, both Benedict and Lydia began looking around. Which… Benedict doubted Lydia even knew who or what she was looking for, it was just an instinctive response.
“What’s happening?” Lydia whispered back, her tone demanding, almost aggrieved. “Who is the harlot?”
“Baroness Alvenley,” Daphne whispered back. “She’s Christina’s mortal enemy and she’s sworn to make a play for Benedict, just to hurt Christina. The hussy probably actually believes she’d be successful too!”
It was a melodramatic pronouncement and yet entirely apt. The statement also had the effect of rousing all of Lydia’s considerable protective instincts.
“Where is she?” Lydia asked, her voice full of suppressed fury, a mother bear whose protective instincts had been riled. She sounded quite a bit more aggressive than usual and Benedict couldn’t help but wonder if her condition had something to do with her reaction. Were women who were increasing more volatile? She and Isaac still hadn’t announced but Benedict really was quite sure she must be. “Point her out! I won’t allow her near him!”
“Ladies,” Benedict said, his tone quelling. “As much as I appreciate your stalwart defense, I’m not particularly worried about myself, although if you could keep her away from Christina…”
“There, there she is,” Daphne interrupted him, completely abandoning all social manners and actually pointing across the room. “The petite blonde in blue with the frilly collar.”
In his mind, Benedict had built up all sorts of ideas about what the awful Baroness might look like. While he supposed she must be somewhat attractive - for otherwise what man would abandon Christina for her? - he’d also been sure her selfish, cruel nature must show through as well. There would be something cold, something inherently off-putting about her, especially as he knew what she’d done.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
