His Spoilt Lady Page 11

  “My God, I just cannot believe it, a girl! How on earth has she managed to keep that a secret on a ship full of men? ...God!” Duncan paled. “To think . . .” He stopped, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

  “To think what, man?” John asked. Duncan looked up with an ashen face and replied, “The conditions that she lives in surrounded by the roughest of men. The way I treated her, too! All the thrashings she’s endured at my hand!”

  “Oh, Duncan, you must not blame yourself,” Linnett retorted briskly. “As far as you knew, Pat was a boy!”

  John looked up, nodding in agreement. Turning to Duncan, John put an arm around the man’s shoulders. “Duncan, you saved the girl’s life. Now go and get yourself dry. You’re a hero, man!”

  John guided Duncan out of the room and called back from the doorway, “I will go and beg some hot soup from the cook. There is some brandy in the top drawer, give her some of that. It might help warm her.” Linnett found the brandy, and tenderly, she helped Pat to sit up. The girl took a sip or two and lay back down with a sigh, her eyes unopened.

  Linnett, watching her, noticed a tear slide down the girl’s cheek. Tenderly, she stroked the poor girl’s forehead and murmured soothingly to her. How could they have been all been so blind? Pat’s delicate features were so obviously those of a girl. Her skin was so white, it looked translucent, the skin under her eyes shadowed blue, and she had a small rose bud mouth and a straight nose. The grime that usually hid her small heart-shaped face had been effectively washed away by the dip in the sea.

  She made a small sound of distress. Linnet spoke softly to her. “Pat, dear, please do not fret. You are safe now.” Slowly, Pat’s eyelids fluttered open, soft brown eyes that gazed up at Linnett in misery. Tears filled and trickled down the pale cheeks. “Ssshh hush, hush, it’s all right now,” Linnett soothed her gently.

  “How’s.... I mean...what’ll I’s do now?” Pat’s thin voice asked in despair.

  “I don’t understand,” said Linnett, frowningly.

  Pat started to speak, but the effort set her coughing. Linnett fetched a cup of water and held it while she sipped. Then Pat lay back against the pillows before she said, “Tis plain, Missus, now them knows I’s a girl, them’ll put me ashore first chance they’ll get!”

  Linnett had to concede that this would indeed be the case. She looked at the piteous girl and thought quickly. “Pat, I am travelling without a maid to a strange new land, alone except for my husband. Would you do for me, perhaps? I could train you in the ways of a lady’s maid, and even write a reference as such. It would help me a great deal to have a lady’s maid again, I do assure you.”

  She looked hopefully at the sorry girl on her bed. A small smile curved Pat’s pale lips. “T’would be nice,” she said nodding, “but I don’t know nuffing about dresses and stuff though.”

  Linnett gave a small delighted laugh and said, “I will teach you, have no fear. Now you need to rest. John has gone to find you some nourishment. We can talk when you are feeling better.”

  Then Linnett fussed around with the bed covers but had to turn away, lest Pat see the tears of pity that flooded her eyes.

  Five days had passed since Pat’s dramatic recovery, and she had been moved into a small cabin around the corner of the passageway from Linnett’s and John’s cabin. She was shy at first with them, but grew more confident with each day that passed. One of the first things that changed was her name. Pat’s real name was Patsy and so she became that once again. Linnett turned out a couple of suitable dresses and undergarments for the girl, altering what needed to be changed so that they would fit Patsy’s slighter build. She showed herself to be quick and willing and was deft with a needle. Linnett had discovered a great deal about the young girl from their long afternoons spent together in sewing. By now, the gradually decreasing pile of John shirts and their sleeves were sewn back together. Linnett had cursed herself for her destructive act with each shirt she had mended, not to mention the discomfort she had suffered with a sore backside.

  John, missing his afternoon siesta that he and Linnett had been taking earlier in the voyage, was increasingly amorous first thing in the morning. Linnett was not in the same frame of mind, preferring to sleep through the dawn. This was causing some friction between the honeymooners, so that they spent less time together during the day. Patsy became devoted to Linnett and listened quietly to Linnett’s complaints, without once uttering her own opinion. Lottie, Linnett’s previous maid, would have had no such reticence.

  If Patsy thought privately that Linnett was an extremely spoilt young woman, she would never dream of putting that thought into words. She had by now told Linnett of her own sad past. Of how she came to be on board the ship as a ship’s cabin boy. To Linnett, the tale was a terrible one, but she could not truly relate to the hardships that Patsy had faced. Her own world had been so far removed from the fear and deprivation that Patsy had suffered.

  Patsy had been born in the area of Battersea, a small village outside London. Her father had died when she was three, and her mother decided to take in washing for local folk. They lived contentedly enough, until their local undertaker, who had frequently used her mother’s laundry services over the years, was widowed. After a very short period of mourning, he began to court Patsy’s mother, Rose, still an attractive woman of twenty-nine. They were married, and Rose and her daughter moved in with the undertaker, Jonas Briggs.

  Patsy hated his house and workshop, which was always full of coffins and, of course, bodies. The smell of the embalming fluids that Jonas used permeated every nook and cranny of the establishment. When Patsy was twelve, Jonas said she could earn her keep and help him in his trade. She was horrified and argued with her step-father and her mother, who naturally took her husband’s part. The outcome of this family argument was that Jonas decided to take her down to the workshop for a thrashing, but instead of the expected beating, Jonas had raped Patsy. Upstairs, her mother, hearing screams from what she thought of as her ungrateful daughter, ignored poor Patsy’s cries and pleas for help. The following day, Patsy had tried to tell her mother what Jonas had done, but her mother, not wishing to believe such a dreadful thing, had slapped her daughter’s face and screamed at her to get out.

  Jonas had come up to see what the commotion was about, and when confronted, he denied all, accusing Patsy of being evil and of lying just so that she would not have to work. He took Patsy downstairs for yet another promised thrashing, but again he raped her, laughing and jeering at her attempt to tell her mother the truth. He even insisted he had the right to use her whenever he wished; after all, he told her, she should be grateful that he had provided for her and her mother. Unable to contemplate a future of continual rape, Patsy had run away.

  She had found an empty cart and the driver, having that day sold his goods at the London market, was willing to allow her to ride in the back of the empty wagon. She travelled from cart to cart until she reached the coast. Patsy had a vague idea that she could get work in a tavern. With this in mind, she had turned herself into a boy and thus Pat was born, with the help of clothes stolen at the sea shore, from a lad who splashed naked in the surf with his friends.

  That night, she had trawled the sea front taverns, asking for work. When a burly sailor and his mate overheard her talking to the innkeeper, they had grabbed hold of her arm and told her they knew of a tavern that needed a likely lad just such a one as he. Hauling Pat along between them, they plied her with rum until she could no longer stand, then took her aboard their ship, flinging her into a hold with some other poor wretches they had unwittingly press-ganged that night. When Pat had come to, they were far out at sea. She then discovered that she was to be the new cabin boy on The Tempest, and here she had remained, her secret successfully hidden beneath the layers of dirt and ragged clothing.

  Duncan Snow was devastated by guilt when John recounted the tale told to him via Linnett. Duncan had gone to see Patsy and tried to make his apologies, but Patsy would h
ave none of it. As far as she was concerned, Duncan had always treated her fairly, and well and above all, he had saved her life.

  Life aboard The Tempest settled back down again. Linnett started to notice that Patsy would often disappear at odd times during the day. One evening after dinner, when she and John were returning to their cabin, Linnett remembered that Patsy had taken her nightgown to sew it, since it had been missing several buttons all due to John’s rather impatient lovemaking. She tapped at Patsy’s cabin door and, receiving no reply, turned the door knob. The door was unlocked, and Linnett saw straight away upon entering the tiny cabin that it was empty.

  John, who had continued along to their own cabin, wondered why his wife had not yet joined him and went back to look for her. Linnett was just closing Patsy’s cabin door. She held a lighted lantern in her hand. “Patsy is not in her room,” she told John. “I am going to look for her, I won’t be very long.”

  She turned away from him but was hauled back. John took the lantern from her. “No,” he told her shaking his head, “you are certainly not wondering around the ship alone and most certainly not at night. I have told you before it’s not safe, Linnett. Patsy will be fine. She has spent the last three and a half years aboard ship, and she will know where she is anywhere on board The Tempest. Have no fear, she will be safe. Now come to bed.” John kept a firm grip on Linnett’s arm as he towed her towards their room.

  “No, John! Come with me, then. We can search together,” Linnet said, thinking this an admirable solution. She was not pleased, however, when John, undeterred, curtly refused. On reaching their room, John deposited the lantern on the table and mindful of his wife’s wilful nature, locked the door and dropped the key into his pocket. Linnett whirled furiously to face him, her green eyes flashing. John groaned; he knew the signs of one of his wife’s temper tantrums.

  “You do not even care!” Linnett spluttered. “That poor Patsy could be lying hurt somewhere alone out in the dark! With all these rough men on board, just think of what could happen to her! She has turned out to be a pretty little thing, anything could happen! We must go and look for her, John, surely you must see that!”

  John took off his jacket and waistcoat, keeping his eye on Linnett as he did so. With an outwardly cool demeanour that belied his inner fear that Linnett was about to have a full-blown tantrum, he answered her with composure. Perhaps simple reason would divert her temper.

  “My dear, I repeat: Patsy will be fine! You forget, Linnett, that up until a few days ago, she was the ship’s cabin boy. Now stop your fussing and get ready for bed.”

  Linnett was seething; she had become used to John doting on her. And she had been used to her own way all of her life. Provoked and angry she was not about to give in over this. She was genuinely concerned for Patsy. Linnett stalked over to the door and tried to open it, when it wouldn’t open she spun round and stamping her foot, held out her hand for the key. “Give me that key, John, now, at once!” she demanded.

  John’s eyes narrowed. He had been so pleased with his lovely wife, besotted as he was with her delightful wiles and ways. It was, after all, their honeymoon, a time he felt that should be spent in cementing their relationship, time to get to know and trust one another. John really did not want this confrontation tonight; however, he realised that he could not go on allowing Linnett to keep defying him this way. She was just too damn wilful. He had hoped that his dominance over her body in the marriage bed would be enough to calm and subdue her defiance. Linnett must learn to become properly submissive towards him. How else was he supposed to keep her safe in the Colonies if she would not heed her husband?

  “Linnett, do not force me to take you in hand again. Now, be a good girl, and prepare for bed.”

  Linnet didn’t move; she knew that John was angry, but she was mutinously determined to win this battle. She was righteous and she had justice on her side. Husband and wife stood across the room from each other eyes locked, two narrowed, implacable and steely grey, the other two flashing green and haughty, each awaiting the other’s move.

  John was by now livid, he drew himself up and pointed to the bed. “So be it! Linnett remove your draws and lay face down across the bed and if you comply willingly I will simply spank you with my hand but defy me over this and I shall use your hairbrush. I promise that will be the worse for you.”

  Linnett was astounded, this was no spanking matter! She was simply concerned for a young woman in her charge. “Surely you cannot be serious, John? Why can’t you understand that I am concerned for the girl?”

  John frowned, looking thoroughly foreboding. “Linnett, what did you promise me on your wedding day?”

  “John!” Linnett stamped her foot.

  John, by this time, was implacable. “ANSWER ME, WIFE! WHAT DID YOU PROMISE WHEN MAKING YOUR WEDDING VOWS TO ME!”

  “This is ridiculous, John!” Linnett stamped her foot once again, a mistake, because that small act of temper was enough to tip John’s patience over the edge.

  With the speed and agility of a cat, John pounced to where Linnett stood and swung her up under one arm. He reached out and grabbed Linnett’s flat silver hairbrush from the chest and sat down on the bed, dumping his argumentative wife across one knee while pinioning her legs with his other. He grasped her flailing hand and swept up her skirts. Linnett was wild with righteous fury and fought him tooth and nail.

  The outcome was inevitable. She was no match for her muscular and much larger husband, and to her chagrin, he wrenched down her draws, delivering the first of many painful swots with the paddle-shaped hair brush. This time, however, Linnett was not afraid of her husband. They had spent time getting to know one another, and Linnett was livid with him for reverting to the vile man she knew before they were married.

  She struggled and tried to bite John, swearing with words she’d learned from listening to the sailors. John, incensed by his pretty young wife’s foul tongue, spanked her ever faster and harder until the swearing was replaced by her sobs and pleas for mercy. John grinned wickedly and told her, “After hearing your foul mouth, darlin’, I think this punishment will be going on for quite a bit longer, and the more you beg, the harder I shall spank, so quiet down and take your medicine like a good obedient wife should, for I am determined that you will learn to do my bidding without arguing or questioning me. Do you understand me, Mrs. Foster?”

  Linnett was having a hard time understanding anything other than the relentless stinging and heating up of her poor, naked bottom. She squirmed sideways, attempting to avoid the slaps and swipes as they continued to rain all over her posterior and the tops of her thighs. The pain was far worse than the previous hand spankings John had administered, and she was regretting pushing him to this. Oh, why could she not learn to control her temper around her husband! By this point, Linnett would agree to anything to make him stop, so she promised him everything she could think of.

  “I am sorry, John, so...o...o, so...o...o sorry! Stop! Please stop! John no....ouch! No, John... Oww! Noooo!”

  Linnett sobbed, her face awash with tears, her nose running. John was angry, very angry, and not about to let his wife off easily. This time she would learn her lesson.

  He shifted her higher across his knee and bought the hairbrush down even more vigorously. Linnett pulled helplessly at the quilt on the bed, but John had her in an iron grip and all she could do was bury her head into the quilt, sob and suffer her punishment. At last, John flung the hair brush aside and hauled Linnett to her feet. He spun her around and undid her skirt, pulling it down to the floor where her drawers were already puddled around her feet. “Step out of your clothes,” he ordered.

  Linnett did as she was bid and reached behind her to rub her painful and swollen buttocks, whereupon John slapped her hands away. “No! I want you to remember this lesson! If I see you rub yourself even once I will spank you again just as hard and just as long. Now stand and face the bed, that’s right. Now bend over the bed and spread your legs.”

&nbs
p; John placed his hand in the middle of Linnett’s back, and, bent her at the waist, he pushed her legs farther apart and stepped back admiring his handiwork. He placed his hands on her burning buttocks and squeezed them, feeling the molten heat that radiated off her skin. “You will stay here, not moving or speaking, until I tell you otherwise, is that understood?”

  Linnett mumbled, her head resting on her arms, which were wet from her tears. John slapped her bare bottom sharply twice in quick succession and shouted, “Answer me, Linnett!”

  Linnett jumped with the sudden slaps to her now tender bottom, and tears trickled down her cheek.

  “Yes,” she whispered, and another hard smack followed.

  “Answer properly this time with a... yes, sir!” John commanded.

  Linnett bit her lip and she stiffened with anger, but another stinging slap on her rump had her singing out, “YES, SIR!” loud and clear. A smile twisted the corner of John’s mouth, and he felt that finally, he was getting somewhere with her.

  There came a loud knocking at their door, and they both jumped. John went to the door and unlocked it. Outside stood little Patsy, a nervous smile on her face. She held out Linnett’s nightgown, now mended with all the missing buttons replaced. John took the gown and tried to block her view into the room with his body but Patsy could see her mistress and the girl’s eyes widened at the sight of Linnett bent over the bed with her bared and scarlet backside thrust up into the air. Patsy looked at John nervously, knowing instantly what had occurred. She backed away from the door and then turned, fleeing to the safety of her own little cabin.

  John closed the door and glanced over at his now very embarrassed wife. She had not moved, but he could see the flush that had crept up her neck and he knew that she was mortified. Linnett might now consider modifying her behaviour in future, and a bit of humiliation might be the turning point for her.