Those Wainright Women Volume One

by Monica Vale

Chapter One

“When is the Prince of Wales coming here?” Rose Parker demanded, pouting and pulling away. “I told my guardian I was going to a friend’s house, and when the driver left me off I ran all the way here.”

“Aren’t we your friends?” her dancing partner responded, glaring down at her in mock reproach. She punched his red uniform shoulder, with a playful show of temper, before placing her hand in his once more.

“That is not what I meant,” she told him, tossing back her golden curls and pursing her pink rosebud lips even more tightly together. Her side hoops swayed enticingly, as they moved forward and stepped back in time to the lively music. “When you greeted me after Church last Sunday, you told me that Prince Frederick Augustus himself often came here to the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, and I would be able to meet him. I would never have defied my guardian if I had not been longing to see His Royal Highness in person.”

“Isn’t it enough that you are dancing with me?”

“It would be,” she assured him. “I always enjoy dancing with a fine gentleman like you. But my guardian does not happen to approve.”

“Of dancing?”

“Of Prince Frederick, mostly.” Her blue eyes were so light they were almost transparent, but they seemed to grow darker as she went on. “It is not fair! He is the Crown Prince, and so handsome that all the ladies want to dance with him. But he quarrels with his father the king, and even more bitterly with his own brother, the Duke of Cumberland, so Sir Charles has turned against him.”

“Your guardian fought beside the duke at Culloden, when they conquered Scotland,” her dancing partner reminded her, in a tone of reproach. “That was only four years ago, so even a girl of 18 should remember. No wonder Sir Charles is loyal to the crown. Now your guardian spends his days helping his less fortunate fellow veterans find employment, and we should all admire him for that, too.”

At that, his partner stopped short in the middle of the dance floor. “Now you are taking his side against me!” she cried.

“Please lower your voice,” the officer replied, looking around anxiously. “Everyone is staring at you. You seem close to having a tantrum.”

“I don’t care!” and she angrily stamped her foot. “Everyone is trying to ruin my innocent pleasure! I want only to enjoy a dance and meet our handsome prince. Is that really so much to ask?” Pulling her lace kerchief from her sleeve, she sniffled into it loudly.

“Then let us dance again together,” he said, taking her hand once more. “Then we can sit down and I will order you a fine dinner of roast chicken, wine and chocolate cakes. Will that not make up for the fact that Prince Frederick did not come here tonight?”

“Oh, I suppose so,” she answered. Once again, she let his hand engulf her little fingers and leaned forward to give him another whiff of her rosewater fragrance. “Do you think he may still come, later on? It is barely eight o’clock now.”

“No doubt he will!” More cautiously, he added, “He may also bring his princess.”

At that, she stopped short again and glared at him in fury.

“What are you implying?” she demanded. “Do you imagine that would matter to me? Do you think I want to…to…behave indecently with him?” She struck his shoulder again, more harshly this time.

“Of course not! But please do lower your voice. The others are listening to us, and they may get the wrong impression, even if I did not.”

Now she seemed close to tears again. “Just because I want to meet this handsome prince so I can boast to all my friends about it, some people believe the worst. And that even includes a fellow I trusted!”

As she busily wiped her eyes, she failed to notice that her companion was looking up over her head, towards the pavilion entrance.

“Sir Charles!” he exclaimed. She spun around and gasped with dismay.

“Sir Charles,” he said again, as he walked toward the man who stood glowering down at them both. “I am very glad to see you, sir.” He held out his hand eagerly, but the other man chose to ignore it. The high, sharp cheekbones in his long, pale face made the newcomer seem even more dangerous.

“I would be more pleased to see you, lieutenant, if you had not encouraged my niece to lie to me,” Charles Wainwright coldly replied.

“I did no such thing!” the younger man exclaimed. “I merely asked if she would like to meet me at Vauxhall. It is quite a public place, as you can see.”

“And you did not choose to ask her guardian’s permission?”

“We…we were not sure you would approve,” the younger man answered, his face turning almost as red as his jacket. “Miss Parker seemed especially eager to see the crown prince, who often comes here, and I know he is no great favorite of yours.”

“But I do want to see him, if only from a distance,” the girl whined. “Please let me stay just long enough for that.”

“I will do no such thing! When I get you home again, you will be sorry you ever heard of him…and even sorrier you deceived me.”

Behind their fans, the other ladies were muttering their approval. “She needs a good spanking, and I hope he gives it to her,” one of the older women said, loudly enough to be heard over the music.

“I refuse to go!” she cried…so angrily that the orchestra stopped playing and joined the crowd in listening to the scene. It was sure to cause a scandal that would last for weeks, so no one wanted to miss it.

“You refuse?” he exclaimed, as he grasped her arm. “Then I will make you regret your defiance, too.”

“Let me go!” she cried desperately. Her pointed leather shoe shot out from beneath her skirts and soundly kicked his shin. He cried out in pain and surprise, then clutched her even more tightly as he dragged her towards the door. She struggled fiercely, ignoring the sound of the other guests applauding and the violins starting up again.

As he pulled her into the grassy lane, she kept fighting against him, but even her wide side hoops failed to slow him down. Instead, he dragged her grimly past the other pavilions, so fast that they heard only a few strains of the melodies coming from each one.

“I am getting tired of this,” he muttered, as her little fist landed on his dark brown jacket. Lifting her high into the air, he threw her over his shoulder, once again ignoring her futile kicks and blows. She managed to grasp his long brown braid, before he pulled her fingers angrily away.

When he finally reached his carriage at the end of the lane, he all but hurled her into it…so forcefully that she fell to the floor, before scrambling onto the seat. She tried to leap out on the opposite side, before he pulled her back again.

“Now sit down!” he commanded, as the horses sped west from London. He pushed her into the seat with both hands, before planting himself squarely opposite her. “You’ve made things hard enough for yourself as it is.”

“You’ve made things hard enough for me already!” she pouted, throwing herself back against the leather curtain in frustration. “You made a fool of me in front of everyone at Vauxhall, and all London will be talking about it tomorrow.”

“Things will be much harder for you before long,” he promised grimly. Even in the darkness, she could see his brown eyes glaring at her. “And then, for a very long time, you will find it very hard to sit down.”

“Do you mean…you would punish me physically?” she asked, her voice trembling now. “But you have never believed in such a thing. You were always too modern for that. Instead, you simply talked to me until I was convinced I had done wrong. It’s been that way ever since my parents died.”

“Obviously, it was that way for far too long. But now, I promise, I will make up for lost time…with this!” He held up his long, strong right hand, in a way that made her eyes grow wide with fear.

“You mean…you are going to spank me?” she whispered.

“The moment we walk through the door of Wainwright Manor. I would paddle you right here, if I could get past those hoopskirts. But, as I warned you, we will make up for lost time. First, I will spank you for lying to me about going to Vauxhall Gardens. Then, for defying me with that disgraceful scene you made when I found you there. And then for trying to escape from this carriage.”

As she opened her mouth to protest, he went on, “I just hope you will argue with me, so I will have good reason to give you a fourth punishment.” Her lips snapped shut again.

* * *

“I can walk into my own house,” she protested, as he dragged her into the brick building.

“It is my home, and my family’s home, as it has been since Henry VIII’s day,” he reminded her. “That is one reason I will not have you disgracing it with your antics.”

“I did not…” One angry glare was enough to silence her.

He had told her often enough how ancient the dwelling was, since she had come to live there. In vain, she had tried to convince him that it did not have to look quite so out-of-date. He could install a fashionable molded plaster ceiling over the naked wooden beams, for instance, and he could cover those white plaster walls with modern paintings. But he refused to even take the crossed spears down from over the stone fireplace.

This room had always made her uncomfortable, and now she knew why. That antique décor seemed only too well suited to old-fashioned ways, like guardians mercilessly beating the wards who had displeased them. She felt dismally sure he would now live up…or, rather, down…to those bad old days.

“Madeline!” he shouted…in the same tone his ancestors would have used to summon a servant. With a rustle of skirts, the plump, plain girl appeared in the doorway and stood silently awaiting his orders.

“Take your young mistress to her room, undress her and wait while she puts on her bedgown,” he ordered. “Then bring her back down here.”

“Don’t you trust me to return on my own?” Rose asked, in some indignation.

“Not at all,” he told her, as he glared down at her from over his wiry folded arms. “You would lock yourself in your room, most likely. Not that I would blame you, since you know what is coming to you, after the way you behaved tonight.”

With a sigh of defeat, she allowed the servant girl to lead her upstairs. There she glanced longingly at the fine white needlework cover on her fourposter bed. If only she could throw herself down on it, to forget the disappointment of tonight. Instead, she stood with her head lowered, being prepared for punishment. Behind her, Madeline silently untied the laces of her gown, then unbound her side hoops and corset and threw them onto the sofa.

Rose was gloomily silent as the older girl helped her pull the white linen bedgown over her head. In the interests of modesty, Madeline tried to puff up the white lace at her neck.

That simple gesture reminded Rose that her guardian would soon be glowering at her, while she stood helplessly before him in that thin, light garment. She knew only too well why he had ordered her to wear it…because it would give her almost no protection from his chastisement.

“Are you ready, Miss?” the maid asked. Silently, Rose nodded, and followed her back down the winding stairs.

* * *

At the bottom of the steps she stopped suddenly short and could not force herself to go on. She had seen the riding crop he was holding in his right hand, impatiently slapping it against his left.

“No!” she gasped, as tears filled her eyes. “You can’t beat me with that…that thing!”

“Why not?” he asked. “Mothers use it on very naughty children, and that is just how you have behaved. You can be thankful I am not putting it across your bare bum. But the least you can do is take your punishment like a lady, so come down here and bend across the top of that seat.” He pointed the whip at a high carved chair back, which seemed as though it would be almost as uncomfortable as the flogging itself.

“No!” she whimpered again. “No, please, I beg you!”

“Madeline,” he said.

Without needing another word of instruction, the maidservant grasped her mistress’ arm, pulled her down from the stairway and pushed her over the chair. Rose found herself gazing down at the Persian carpet. Its rich red, blue and gold tones had always seemed so beautiful before, but now she knew she would hate the very sight of them forever.

“If that is all, sir?” Madeline asked, in her usual hushed tone.

“No, I want you to stay here,” he answered. “By the time I am done with her, she will need your help in getting up the stairs.”

“How…how many blows are you going to give me?” Rose whispered.

“Well, I have heard that ‘six of the best’ is traditional at boarding schools for boys,” he answered. As she was starting to sigh in relief, he cut her short by saying, “So it will be 18 for you…six for each of your punishments. Unless, of course, you choose to argue or defy me again? That will make six more.”

“No,” she whispered.

“Good. Then I will proceed.” She shut her eyes tight, as the thin leather rod whistled through the air and landed on her backside.

For a moment she felt relief, because the sting was not half as bad as she had feared. Then it grew a thousand times worse, spreading all through her, to the top of her head and the tips of her toes. She could not avoid pushing away from the chair, until she heard him commanding, in the same calm tone, “If you try to escape again, you will have six more for that.”

“No, no, please!” she cried. “I cannot endure it! Please don’t hit me again!” And she burst into helpless tears.

“Are you having another tantrum?” he demanded. “I heard the one you were throwing, as I came into the Vauxhall pavilion. I determined right then that you would never disgrace me by having another, whether it takes me 18 strokes or 88 to convince you. So I will wait until you are calm enough to say you are ready to go on.”

“I am ready,” she sniffled. “Just get it over with, please.”

“That’s more like it,” he answered. She could not stop herself from shrieking, as the crop whistled through the air again and struck. This time, the six new stripes fell against the red welts that he had already created, making her howl even more loudly with every blow.

“The other servants may hear you, sir,” said Madeline, in her most respectful tones.

“Good,” he answered. “Then they will know they have a master who knows how to rule his family.” Turning his attention back to his ward, he said, “Now, why did I give you those first six whacks?”

“For lying to you about where I was going!” she spoke so quickly that the words all rushed together.

“Good. And why am I punishing you now?”

“For…for defying you at Vauxhall by refusing to leave when you ordered me.”

“For throwing a tantrum, like a spoiled little girl.”

“For throwing a tantrum,” she reluctantly agreed. Then, to her own amazement, she added, “But I was not really…”

“She is arguing again, sir,” Madeline put in. “That deserves another punishment.”

“No, no, I am not, I swear it!” she cried.

“No, she is not,” he agreed. “You saved her just in time. So she will have only the six I promised her for having the tantrum, and six more for trying to jump out of the coach.”

Now she had to bite down hard on her lower lip, to keep from begging for mercy. She squeezed her eyes tight again and only wished she dared to cover her ears, to blot out that terrible whistling sound as the crop fell again on her backside. Even though the long skirt of her bedgown concealed her burning backside, she knew all too well that the merciless stripes were crossing each other, raising ever deeper, brighter and angrier welts on her rosy skin. All too soon, she knew, they would darken to purple bruises, and she would be forced to sit on that injured place.

As it was, the torment was growing more unbearable every time the dreaded weapon struck. Already her eyes were blinded and her ears were ringing with pain. It was as though some dreadful snake were striking, again and again, tearing her flesh with its fangs each time and then burning her with its venom. She no longer even tried to keep from screaming at each blow.

And yet…and yet…

Incredibly, disgracefully, she felt a pleasure growing in the front part of her body, almost as great as the pain. Her front opening seemed to grow warmer and wetter every time the leather burned the soft globes behind it. Now she stared down harder than ever at the carpet, so neither of the onlookers could see her confusion and shame.

Fortunately for her, he obviously misunderstood her feelings.

“You really do seem to be ashamed of the way you acted,” he told her softly. “But I am afraid that won’t save you from your last six stripes. It would not have saved me at boarding school, and you must learn your lesson as I did.”

Still, it seemed to her that the crop fell more gently, even though it was certainly harsh enough.

“So, do you think I will ever have to serve you this way again?” he asked, when he finally stopped and tossed the implement onto the table. “Or have you learned your lesson. I certainly hope so.”

But I do not, she thought, to her own amazement. Now that the punishment was over, she was longing for him to start it all over again.

Glancing up, she saw he was waiting for her answer, as he stared down at her above his crossed arms.

“I do, too,” she managed to whisper, as she brushed her tears away. It was not entirely honest, she realized, but if she had tried to explain her true feelings, he would have despised her as the most depraved, perverted creature in the world.

“Now you may go upstairs,” he told her, in an even more kindly tone. “Madeline will help you.”

“I don’t need any help,” she started saying proudly, but stopped the moment she tried to push herself away from the chair. She could barely walk, due to the new burst of agony that struck her when she tried to move her legs. Then she waited for the servant girl to approach, so she could lean on that soft, strong shoulder.

In that way, her maidservant half carried her to her bedroom, where she gratefully threw herself face down on the pillow. Even more thankfully, she felt the servant wetting the towel in the basin and gently wiping the cool water over her burning backside.

“Thank you, Madeline,” she whispered.

“No need to do that. It is what your guardian pays me for.” Leaning down, she added in a whisper, “You must be more careful, though, instead of trying to deny that you were merely a spoiled child having a tantrum. I barely stopped you from giving away our plans.”