Polly arriving to refill our wine glasses and I felt myself growing warm at the thought of getting the girl into trouble. I lifted my empty glass to my lips and then affected a blush, as though surprised to find myself suddenly with nothing to drink.
Frowning, Sir James pushed his chair back and strode to the far end of the table to get the decanter and refill our glasses. He left his own empty, however. He rang the bell and within seconds Polly was at his side.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘I have served wine to my guests,’ he said in a simmering voice. ‘I do not care to serve wine to
myself
.’
The girl looked forlornly at his empty glass and grabbed the decanter with unsteady hands, just managing to pour the wine without spilling it.
‘Will there be anything else, sir?’
‘Yes. Go and fetch my riding crop from the hall.’
Polly whispered, ‘Yes, sir’ and couldn’t leave the room fast enough.
I giggled and covered my mouth with my hand. The evening had finally taken an interesting turn.
‘I’m terribly sorry, Captain,’ my uncle said. ‘I must apologise for the deplorable service.’
Captain Hawksley shook his head. ‘It’s quite all right, sir,’ he said. ‘Your hospitality is certainly not at fault. And I must say I’m interested to see how your little experiment turns out.’
‘Well, it is high time for a practical demonstration.’
‘Indeed.’
The nervous maid arrived and stood to attention in front of the table. She clutched the riding crop in her hands, which I could see were shaking.
Sir James pushed back his chair and got slowly to his feet. He held out his hand and Polly relinquished the crop to him, seeming both relieved to be rid of it and reluctant to progress to the obvious next stage.
My uncle sliced the crop through the air, making a fearsome sound.
The maid looked pointedly at the floor.
‘Right, Polly. Let’s get this over with, girl.’ He tapped the table with the end of the crop. Immediately she stretched out along it, clutching the edges for support. It did look like a position she was familiar with.
‘Raise your skirt. And unfasten your drawers.’
She gasped and glanced up at the captain, but it was only a moment’s hesitation. With a resigned expression, she obeyed.
The captain stood to one side, watching. My uncle wasted no time. He brought the crop down sharply across her bare bottom, making her wince. I stood up and rushed behind her to get a view of her bottom as the second stroke landed. It did look terribly painful, but I had little sympathy. It was no more than she was accustomed to. Certainly no more than she should expect, given her lowly station.
‘She’s remarkably stoic,’ the captain observed.
Polly did her best to be brave as the riding crop bit into her cheeks twice more. I was struck by the sight of the four livid wheals the leather tip had raised on her fair skin and I wished for it to go on until her entire posterior was scarlet. The whole event was over far too quickly.
When my uncle allowed her up, I studied her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with tears. Nonetheless, she looked oddly relaxed to me. The captain praised her stoicism again and I could have sworn I saw her smile with something like pride. It was most peculiar.
‘You may adjust your clothing,’ my uncle said, and the girl hurriedly obeyed.
As Polly adjusted her dress, my uncle gave her a warning glance and told her to fetch the dessert. She left the room, wiping her eyes on the edge of her pinafore.
‘A fascinating exercise, sir,’ the captain remarked, raising his glass. ‘And what did you think, Miss Angelina?’
I felt a little flushed and fanned myself, replaying the spectacle again in my mind as I returned to my seat.
‘As you say, sir – fascinating. But we’ll have to see whether her performance improves. I have my doubts.’ Then, as he raised his water glass to his lips I added, ‘Of course, I suppose there are those who might proclaim
Frowning, Sir James pushed his chair back and strode to the far end of the table to get the decanter and refill our glasses. He left his own empty, however. He rang the bell and within seconds Polly was at his side.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘I have served wine to my guests,’ he said in a simmering voice. ‘I do not care to serve wine to
myself
.’
The girl looked forlornly at his empty glass and grabbed the decanter with unsteady hands, just managing to pour the wine without spilling it.
‘Will there be anything else, sir?’
‘Yes. Go and fetch my riding crop from the hall.’
Polly whispered, ‘Yes, sir’ and couldn’t leave the room fast enough.
I giggled and covered my mouth with my hand. The evening had finally taken an interesting turn.
‘I’m terribly sorry, Captain,’ my uncle said. ‘I must apologise for the deplorable service.’
Captain Hawksley shook his head. ‘It’s quite all right, sir,’ he said. ‘Your hospitality is certainly not at fault. And I must say I’m interested to see how your little experiment turns out.’
‘Well, it is high time for a practical demonstration.’
‘Indeed.’
The nervous maid arrived and stood to attention in front of the table. She clutched the riding crop in her hands, which I could see were shaking.
Sir James pushed back his chair and got slowly to his feet. He held out his hand and Polly relinquished the crop to him, seeming both relieved to be rid of it and reluctant to progress to the obvious next stage.
My uncle sliced the crop through the air, making a fearsome sound.
The maid looked pointedly at the floor.
‘Right, Polly. Let’s get this over with, girl.’ He tapped the table with the end of the crop. Immediately she stretched out along it, clutching the edges for support. It did look like a position she was familiar with.
‘Raise your skirt. And unfasten your drawers.’
She gasped and glanced up at the captain, but it was only a moment’s hesitation. With a resigned expression, she obeyed.
The captain stood to one side, watching. My uncle wasted no time. He brought the crop down sharply across her bare bottom, making her wince. I stood up and rushed behind her to get a view of her bottom as the second stroke landed. It did look terribly painful, but I had little sympathy. It was no more than she was accustomed to. Certainly no more than she should expect, given her lowly station.
‘She’s remarkably stoic,’ the captain observed.
Polly did her best to be brave as the riding crop bit into her cheeks twice more. I was struck by the sight of the four livid wheals the leather tip had raised on her fair skin and I wished for it to go on until her entire posterior was scarlet. The whole event was over far too quickly.
When my uncle allowed her up, I studied her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with tears. Nonetheless, she looked oddly relaxed to me. The captain praised her stoicism again and I could have sworn I saw her smile with something like pride. It was most peculiar.
‘You may adjust your clothing,’ my uncle said, and the girl hurriedly obeyed.
As Polly adjusted her dress, my uncle gave her a warning glance and told her to fetch the dessert. She left the room, wiping her eyes on the edge of her pinafore.
‘A fascinating exercise, sir,’ the captain remarked, raising his glass. ‘And what did you think, Miss Angelina?’
I felt a little flushed and fanned myself, replaying the spectacle again in my mind as I returned to my seat.
‘As you say, sir – fascinating. But we’ll have to see whether her performance improves. I have my doubts.’ Then, as he raised his water glass to his lips I added, ‘Of course, I suppose there are those who might proclaim
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