** ** **
Lawrence. P. Randolph, physician, arrived at the Graham residence promptly at ten o’clock the following morning. The lady of the house herself, the elderly aunt, opened the door to him the very moment he rapped upon it with his cane. The woman was nervous and obsequious as she showed him in, a state he considered quite fitting given the nature of his visit. He noted that the girl was nowhere to be seen, and smiled thinly. She was no doubt waiting upstairs in a state of agitation, which also was well and good and precisely as it should be. He would have considered it quite immodest of her had she been sitting calmly in the parlour.
He accepted Mrs. Graham’s offer of a cup of tea, not because he had any desire for refreshment or passing pleasantries with people who bored him, but because it pleased him to make the young lady upstairs wait. He knew his voice was deep and carried well. Even if she hadn’t heard his rap on the door, and he was quite certain she had been listening just as intently as her aunt, she would hear his voice from the parlour. And as the minutes passed, she would grow ever more frantic about her impending ordeal. He smiled to himself to think of it. It was no accident that Doctor Randolph was the personal physician to the Earl of Chiltenham. If ever there were two gentlemen cut from the same cloth, it was Lord Tazewell and his friend the good doctor.
After twenty or thirty minutes, Doctor Randolph set down his teacup.
“Well. Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Graham. I expect it’s time I moved on to the matter at hand. Will you be so kind as you conduct me your niece?”
Lucy’s aunt, who had been nearly beside herself with anxiety while the doctor took his own good time over tea, rose as quickly as her old knees allowed.
“She’s upstairs, Doctor. In her room. If you’ll just follow me, please, sir. I’m afraid I’m a bit slow on the stairs. Oh, how my knees torment me! It’s a wonder I get out of bed every morning.”
She continued to fuss as she led him up a flight of stairs, and when she at last reached the top, short of breath, she stopped at a closed door and knocked tentatively.
“Lucy?”
There was no reply. Mrs. Graham glanced fearfully up at the doctor, and knocked again, just a little louder.
“Lucy? The doctor is here. I’m afraid you’ll have to let us in. Please, Lucy.”
She tried the knob and seemed surprised when it turned.
“Oh! It’s not locked. I just thought…”
Doctor Randolph gently moved the old woman’s hand aside. “I think it’s best if I take things over from here, Mrs. Graham. Although you are of course welcome to remain with your niece if you…”
“Oh, no! I couldn’t. No, I’m sure she’ll be all right with you, sir. I expect my presence would only make matters more trying…”
“Very well. In that case, please return to the parlour,” he said, in the sort of voice one used to calm an agitated mare, his hand upon the doorknob to Lucy’s room. “I shan’t be long. His Lordship specified that a complete examination would not be necessary.”
Poor Mrs. Graham went quite red in the face, as the doctor’s words only emphasized what part of her niece the doctor had been sent examine.
“A..ah…yes.. well, yes…I’ll wait downstairs then, sir,” she stammered as she turned away from the door and fled, as fast as her poor old knees allowed, back towards the top of the stairs.
Doctor Randolph turned the knob and opened the door into a small and pleasant bedchamber, quite bright and clean. He glanced around appraisingly and established that the morning light coming in through the paned window was sufficient for a proper examination and that it would therefore not be necessary to call for a lamp, although adding that bit of embarrassment might have amused him. That matter settled in his mind, he looked about for the girl, and it took a surprisingly long moment for him to find her, a trim figure standing very still at the side of the window. She was wearing a dark blue frock of almost the same color as the curtains, which was, he understood, the reason he hadn’t spotted her immediately.
“Good day, Miss Farquhar. I am Doctor Randolph,” he offered by way of introduction, setting his black medical bag on the end of the neatly made bed while he looked her over more closely. He thought to himself that he would have enjoyed today’s errand under most any circumstances, but he certainly hadn’t expected that he would be given the pleasure of a proud young beauty to toy with.
“I trust you have been informed of the purpose of my visit this morning?” Doctor Randolph queried.
The girl did not reply, or even look at him. She stayed at her place by the window, one hand on the curtain, pointedly maintaining her gaze on the carriages passing in the street outside, as if no one had entered the room.
“No answer? Well, never mind. I imagine you are very well aware why I am here, Miss Farquhar, but since you have chosen not to answer my question, I am forced to state the nature of my visit quite explicitly.”
He saw there was a pitcher of water and a clean towel folded on the washstand, so he poured some water into the basin and washed his hands as he spoke to her.
“I am here, Miss Farquhar, at the request of Lord Tazewell, Earl of Chiltenham, to confirm, prior to the conclusion of negotiations for your marriage, that your maidenhead is intact.”
Doctor Randolph did not bother to look at her. He knew full well the effect his words would have on her.
“For this purpose, Miss Farquhar, I will require your cooperation in removing your clothing and positioning yourself such that I may conduct a proper examination.”
Doctor Randolph took up the towel and dried his hands. He looked at Lucy even if she would not look at him, and considered whether he would do her the favor of adding some pat phrase about regretting the distress and embarrassment such an intimate inspection would undoubtedly cause her. But since he didn’t regret it –– in fact he would take a great deal of pleasure in precisely that distress and embarrassment—he decided to say no more on the subject.
“We will begin, Miss Farquhar.”
Chapter 2
Doctor Randolph moved around the bed so he could view Miss Farquhar’s entire figure and ascertain what manner of clothing she was wearing, his eyes sweeping quickly and professionally from her collar to the tip of her toes. Her skirts were slightly longer than the current fashion, as if she had chosen her dress this morning in the hopes of concealing as much as possible. Even so, from below the hems of her skirts, he could see trim ankles encased in tightly laced boots, a sight that always stirred him.
“You may leave your boots and stockings on,” he said, having decided at once that the soft black leather and delicate lacing of those boots would provide a most erotic contrast to her bare thighs once he had her on her back with her knees drawn up and open.
“And the dress. That too you may leave on. But everything underneath, and I do mean everything, Miss Farquhar, must be removed.”
At last, a reaction.
Lucy turned abruptly from the window, a look of defiance mixed with unconscious entreaty upon her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it as a deep color rose from her neck. No doubt she was intelligent enough to realize that no manner of magician, let alone physician, could make a fair inspection of the part in question with all her under things in place.
It pleased him to see her blushing. He promised himself he’d have her face beet red before he finished.
“I do hope you are not wearing a corset,” he said, eyeing her slender waist, not entirely sure if she was or wasn’t.
She dropped her eyes but shook her head.
“Good. It would have been more difficult to position you had you been wearing a corset, and I probably would have required you to remove it, which would, of course, have necessitated a complete disrobing.”
He paused for a moment, allowing her to contemplate that alternative while giving it a few lingering thoughts himself.
“I appreciate that you have become a tad more responsive, Miss Farquhar. A nod is better th
an no response at all but I trust you understand that we will finish more quickly if you are cooperative.”
He received no reaction to this, which annoyed him slightly, so he decided to push.
“Do you understand, Miss Farquhar? I expect you to speak when spoken to.”
Her head snapped up at this, her barely contained fury plain upon her face.
“Your entire presence is an affront, sir! I am as disgusted with a physician who would cooperate in such a barbaric and outdated custom as I am with a man who would demand it!”
Doctor Randolph chuckled, causing the young woman’s eyes to flash with anger, but she did not add to her outburst.
“I disgust you, do I? Be that as it may, Miss Farquhar, we will proceed according to the instructions I have received from my patron. As I understand the situation, which is hardly a secret, you have foolishly maneuvered yourself into a position where you can neither afford to turn down Lord Tazewell’s proposal nor refuse his terms. And as far as outdated customs go, I can assure you that the prenuptial examination has not fallen out of favor. Any sensible man wants to know what it is he is marrying.”
She drew herself up, obviously offended at his words. He smiled rather odiously.
“I haven’t come to debate the propriety of modern courtship and marriage with you, Miss Farquhar; I’ve come to confirm your maidenhood. For this purpose, I require the complete removal of your drawers and petticoats. Would you be so kind as to proceed before you squander any more of my time?”
She didn’t move, even after he repeated his request.
Doctor Randolph went to the door and opened it. He turned back to her.
“I shall call for your uncle to come up with the maid to hold you down. Think a moment now, girl. Is that what you want? Witnesses to your humiliation?”
This seemed to give Lucy pause. Her defiant look slid slowly from her face.
“I…I…” she stammered.
Doctor Randolph allowed her another moment but when she failed to yield, he sighed in an exaggerated manner and started out the door and towards the stairs.
“I…please!” Lucy called after him, having stepped away from the window towards the door from which he had exited. The physician backed up a few steps, just to the point where they could see one another clearly.
“I..I…Doctor…please come back.”
“Very well,” he said, coming up the last few stairs and into the room. He closed the door with a quiet click. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, arching one eyebrow to convey that he was waiting and would brook no further nonsense. He motioned with one finger to her skirts and then stood and watched, barely bothering to veil his pleasure, as she reached, at long last, for the hem of her garments. He did so enjoy demanding obedience from a woman, particularly one as handsome and proud as this one.
The girl avoided his eyes as she slipped her hands up under her skirts until her slender arms were completely hidden beneath the folds of cloth. As her hands fiddled unseen for the ties of her petticoats, the doctor admired the view afforded by the partially raised skirts. His tastes in ladies’ under attire were conservative, so he was mildly scandalized to see that Miss Farquhar was wearing pantaloons, an innovation of which he himself did not approve of in the least. But Doctor Randolph’s censure of the garment itself did not prevent him from noting that the brief leggings set off the young woman’s shapely limbs to some advantage, particularly with the lacey hems falling just at the swell of her slender calves. He could see a bit of white stocking above her boot top, and wondered idly if they were tied just above the knee or higher, at mid thigh. Never mind, he thought to himself with a smile, he would find out soon enough.
The girl was bending now, trying to ease down her drawers, an awkward operation given that she must also keep hold of her skirts so as not to reveal any more of her limbs than necessary. It was really quite silly of her, the doctor mused, given what she must know was to follow. But never mind, let her take her medicine sip by sip, if that’s what she preferred. He’d have the full dose down her eventually.
When at last she finished the complicated operation, Lucy stood with a handful of white cotton and lace in her right hand, apparently unable or unwilling to grasp the next step she must take.
“Set those down,” the doctor instructed indulgently. “And get up on your bed with your back against the headboard.”
Lucy blushed deeply, but placed her under things on the chair next to her bed, and then backed herself up against the mattress.
“Go on,” he urged, less kindly, for he was becoming impatient with her stalling.
Lucy proceeded with obvious reluctance, shifting her weight onto one leg so she could make the little scoot necessary to get half her bum upon the high bed, then rocking to the other side so that she was now fully on the edge of the bed. But there she stopped, failing to move along to the headboard as he had instructed. Instead she remained as she was, her head bowed, avoiding the doctor’s eyes at all costs.
“Against the headboard,” he repeated crisply, although he was not in fact surprised that she had failed to comply.
“I object,” the girl said softly but bitterly, her head down.
The doctor sighed.
“You may object all you like, Miss Farquhar, so long as you move yourself so you are seated against the headboard as I have instructed.”
When she did not move, he crossed to the door.
“No!..I…!”
“Then be quick about it, Miss Farquhar! You are trying my patience most sorely.”
This time, Lucy complied. He watched as she shifted back toward the head of the bed, seating herself with her back up rigidly against the headboard and her legs out stiffly in front of her. Even through her skirts it was plain that she was pressing her limbs together in tense desperation. Her face was pale and drawn, and her mouth tight, but her obvious signs of distress didn’t trouble Doctor Randolph in the least.
He regarded her for a moment, considering, then took a sudden step to the bed and seized both limbs by those dainty boots, one broad hand clasped tightly over the soft leather encasing each ankle, and gave a brisk pull, yanking and causing her bum to slide down the bed such that her back was now slumped against the headboard.
“Knees up and open,” he commanded, ignoring the cry that arisen with his sudden move. “And if you raise the slightest additional fuss, I shall remove my belt and thrash you until your thighs and hips are well striped!”
Lucy gasped, her eyes flying to his face, but when she saw the look of determination written there she seemed to lose all courage, and with a sob, raised first one foot and then the other so that the soles of her kid leather boots were now flat on the bed close to her bum.
“Raise your skirts and clear them out of the way,” the doctor ordered impatiently. “Really, Miss Farquhar, is it necessary for me to instruct you every step of the way? It should be quite obvious what you must do for me to complete the examination.”
Lucy’s eyes flashed in fury, and then suddenly there were tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“I..I. won’t!” she insisted. “You can’t make me. He can’t make me. This is unforgivable! She shook her head, her pretty tresses dancing at her shoulders, her chin raised in defiance. Really, she was quite beautiful like that, he thought, a she–cat backed into a corner and quite ready to scratch.
The doctor put his hands to the buckle of his belt.
“I was quite serious when I said I would take my belt to you, Miss Farquhar.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I would,” he said, his eyes locked on hers, “and with pleasure. I would say you’re long overdue for a proper thrashing.”
She faltered. He could see it, and pressed. He looked at her hard and spoke in a low, firm voice.
“Skirts up, young woman. Clear to your waist.”
Lucy hands were shaking, but she took up the material at her thighs and began to draw her skirts up.
He watched, ad
miring the white skin and lovely lines of her raised and open limbs as they slowly came into his view. She saw him watching and blushed furiously, turning her face into her right shoulder, away from him, but she did his bidding and brought the skirts up to her waist.
What wicked pleasure it is to induce a woman to open her legs like this, to see those trembling hands clutching desperately at her skirts, to look upon that lovely young face turned away in shame, to spy for the first time the silky dark fluff against the pale soft skin of her lower belly! Ah, lovely. He stood for several moments just enjoying the beauty of it, and of course the sheer satisfaction in having maneuvered her this far.
“I shall require you to part your legs wider, Miss Farquhar, and to slide your bum a bit further down the bed so you are more upon your back.”
The girl did not comply, and when the doctor was able to tear his eyes away from the luscious sight between those lovely white thighs, and look to her face, he saw that she was weeping silently, her eyes screwed so tightly closed that it was a wonder the tears could find their way through. But escape they did, to slide slowly down her pretty pale cheeks.
Doctor Randolph, determining that further words would be wasted with the girl in this state, decided he would simply have to move her himself. In order to do so, he seated himself on the bed next to her, not at all displeased to be in closer proximity, and turned his upper body towards her so that he might slide his hands under her. With deft movements he took a firm but not unkind grasp of her bottom, one soft, round buttock cupped into each of his great palms, and pulled her entire body resolutely towards him until her lower back was flat upon the bed, her upper body propped not against the headboard anymore but upon the cushions that had laid there.
The Harlot Bride Page 2
