A Double Dose of Hurt

I lay face down on my bed in complete and utter despair. With one cold sentence Sir George had destroyed all my hopes and dreams. It had been such a lovely afternoon with Martin. We had walked hand in hand, we had talked and talked and talked. Already we were making plans for our life together. Already I could see myself as the Vicar’s wife, working with him in the Parish, caring for the sick and distressed.

Against his better judgement I had persuaded him to speak to Sir George. Martin had wanted to wait, to have the chance to visit Winterbrook a number of times before he broached the subject, but I had been impatient. How foolish I had been.

Perhaps we could run away together? Elope to Gretna Green and get married in secret? But that sort of thing only happened in silly romantic novels. If we did that then Martin would be disgraced and would be deprived of his living by the Bishop and then where would we be?

I wanted to cry but no tears would come.

There was a soft knock on the door. It was Miss Downing. She came and sat on the edge of my bed a stroked my hair.

“Oh Charlotte, I am so sorry. Sir George has told me what occurred.”

I turned over. “I hate him Miss Downing, I truly believe that the man has no heart at all. Does he not care that Martin and I love each-other?”

“No my darling, I don’t think that seems of great importance to him. He would rather you marry someone who will have the means to keep you as a lady.”

“But what about what I want?” I said fiercely.

“That is of no consequence as far as your guardian is concerned. And right now he is very angry that you were so rude to him.”

“I meant every word I said!”

“No doubt you did, but it was still very disrespectful to speak to him like that.”

“I don’t care!”

“He wants to see you in his study Charlotte. He is expecting an apology.”

“Then he is a fool as a well as a beast.”

Miss Downing had nothing to say to that. I knew that I had her sympathy and support but that she was as much under Sir George’s orders as I was. He had instructed her to fetch me down to the study and I knew that if I refused he would simply come up to my room, and that would be unbearable.

Slowly I got up, tidied my hair and followed her downstairs.

Sir George was sitting at his desk, he didn’t offer me a seat. He looked up at me with those cold grey eyes and I met his stare with one of my own.

“I know you are upset and disappointed Charlotte. You don’t realise it now, but I have done this because I care about you and have your best interests at heart. That you are angry is understandable. Nevertheless, the way you spoke to me in the drawing room was completely unacceptable. You deserve to be severely punished for your rudeness. However, I am not an unreasonable man and therefore if you are prepared to apologise you will not be chastised.”

I looked at him in disbelief. This man had with one decision ruined my life and he expected me to apologise to him?

“I will not apologise,” I said, keeping my voice calm and level. “I meant what I said and I still mean it. You are the meanest, coldest man I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

I think that if I had been tearful or hysterical then he would probably have forgiven me anyway. That I was calm and in control of myself simply made him more angry.

“Very well then Miss Middleton. If there is to be no apology then there will be punishment.” He turned to Miss Downing who was standing to one side. “The senior cane if you please Miss Downing.”

I saw Miss Downing hesitate. “Please sir, I’m sure that if Charlotte were to be given time to reflect then she would see the need to apologise…” she pleaded on my behalf.

“Would you like time to reflect?” Sir George asked me.

I shook my head, I wasn’t going to say sorry, not now, nor tomorrow, nor any other day.

“The cane it is then,” Sir George announced grimly, “Six of the best.”

I watched as Miss Downing selected a rod and brought it back to Sir George. He took it from her and gave it a practice swish through the air. I felt a shiver run down my spine. I have not often had the cane, indeed this would be only the third time since I arrived at Winterbrook. The memory of those two previous occasions was seared in my mind. I knew it was going to hurt terribly, but I steeled myself to the coming pain. I did not deserve to be beaten, it was monstrously unjust, but the cold anger at the injustice of it gave me a determination to take it as stoically as possible. I would not cry out, I would not give this man the satisfaction of thinking that he had broken my spirit. I lifted my head and stared fixedly out of the French windows as Miss Downing bared my bottom and as the cane was placed across the middle of my cheeks.

I took a deep breath as I felt the cane being drawn back. There was a soft swish behind me, the crack of impact and then the burning line across my bottom. Although I was ready for it it still made me gasp. Oh it stung so much! I gripped the edge of the desk hard and tried to steady my breathing. I remained absolutely still.

The second stroke was just as hard as the first. I stayed silent even though I wanted to scream, clenching my teeth until my jaw ached. I knew he wouldn’t hurry it. He made me wait a full thirty seconds before bringing the cane down again. The fresh stripe burned with new intensity just as the previous one was starting to ease. I saw my knuckles turn white as I held on for dear life. I breathed deeply, breathing through the pain, my poor bottom on fire. The fourth stroke caught me painfully low. I couldn’t help but emit a low gasp, but managed not to move. I wanted to bring my leg up, to flex my knees, to do anything to assuage the pain but I forced myself not to.

Only two more to go. I heard Sir George grunt as he put extra force into the fifth stroke. I held on, desperate not to cry out, not to move. He placed the cane across the middle of my bottom lining up the final stroke. I kept my head up, staring out of the window. Out there it was a beautiful summer’s afternoon, I tried to focus on the trees swaying gently in the breeze, trying to tear my mind away from the lines of hurt that he had marked across my bare cheeks.
The final stroke was the worst of all. I bit my lip as I stifled the cry that came unbidden to my mouth and tasted the saltiness of my own blood. The cane stripe seemed to burn and burn but I refused to submit to it. The anger coursed through me and gave me strength to endure.

His voice seemed to come from miles away. “Stand up Charlotte.”

I slowly rose from the desk and turned to face him. I blinked away the traitorous tears that were starting to well up. I would not cry, I would not cry!

I met and held his eye. He was the one to look away first.

“You may go,” he said curtly.

I said nothing. I simply turned on my heel and walked from the room, my head held high, my dignity intact. As I reached my door I heard Miss Downing walking rapidly up behind me. She followed me into my bedroom and took me in her arms.

As she held me to her the dam inside me broke at last. The tears that I had forced back overwhelmed my defences. I put my head in her bosom and wept like a small child as she stroked my hair.

“Oh Charlotte, my poor Charlotte,” she murmured soothingly. She simply held me as I cried myself out. At long last when I could cry no more she relaxed her hold on me.

“Oh Miss Downing what is to become of me?” I said, miserably. “If I cannot have Martin I cannot go on living.”

“Hush,” she said, “Don’t despair, Sir George may yet be persuaded.”

“I cannot see how,” I sniffed.

“You may not be able to see a way but I can. But you must be patient my darling girl. I need to write a letter and make a visit and that will take some time, but please do not give up hope, we are not done yet.”

I did not know what she meant but her words put fresh courage in me. I took her proffered handkerchief and dried my eyes. Then I stepped painfully across to the mirror to examine the damage that had been wrought across my poor ravaged bottom.