Roses are Red

Miss Charlotte’s news has certainly lifted spirits below stairs. Those of a more romantic disposition are thrilled that love has triumphed, whilst those of who still entertain doubts about the advisability of the union cannot help but be touched by Miss Charlotte’s obvious delight. From the pale shadow of a figure that she cut in the last few weeks she has emerged, like a butterfly from its chrysalis, as a newly energised creature of grace and beauty.

Sadly, when the kitchen maids are in good spirits what follows is not harder work and greater diligence but an outbreak of gossip and silly pranks. As is often the case poor Jonny was the butt of their practical joke.

I was at the front of the Hall seeing off Sir George who was going over to Tring to visit Mr Rothschild. For once Sir George was making use of the motor car. Given the distance involved that was sensible but I suspect the real reason was that he wanted to show off the Rolls to his wealthy friend. Eleanor had started the motor car and was just getting into her seat when young Jonny came hurrying around the corner, a large bale of hay across his shoulders. He dropped it onto the ground right in front of the Rolls.

“There you are Miss Eleanor!” he beamed.

I winced. It is very hard to get the rest of the servants to recognise that Eleanor is one of them. They will insist on calling her ‘Miss’ and thus elevating her beyond her station. Jonny is very infatuated with the young lady and hangs on her every word even though she gives him very little in the way of encouragement. Why on earth he had delivered the hay bale was inexplicable. Sir George was glowering at him so I stepped quickly forward.

“Move that out of the way Jonny,” I said sharply.

“But Miss Eleanor needs it to feed the motor car Mr Jenks,” he said.

I saw Eleanor suppress a giggle.

“What are you talking about boy?” Sir George demanded from the back seat.

Jonny went rather red and tipped his cap to Sir George.

“Beg pardon Sir George, but I was told that the motor car needed some hay to eat and I was to bring it around right away.”

“Stupid boy,” Sir George said brusquely, “Motor-cars don’t need hay. Get it out of the way!”

Jonny went even redder and grabbed the hay bale and dragged it out of the path of the motor-car.

“Drive on,” Sir George ordered.

Jonny stood next to me as we watched it depart up the drive.

“Would you tell me the meaning of all that nonsense young man?” I said to him.

Jonny looked very shamefaced. “One of the maids said there was a message from Miss Eleanor for me. She said that the motor car needed some hay to eat and that I were to take it some as quickly as I could. I said that I thought motor cars used petroleum but she told me that that was what they drank, like horses drink water and that unless you fed them hay then they wouldn’t go proper. Well I took the hay out into the yard but Miss Eleanor had already driven the car round here…” his voice trailed off and he looked down at his feet.

“Someone has been trying to make a fool of you Jonny,” I said gently. “You were correct the first time. Motor cars run on petroleum, just petroleum, not hay.”

“I’m sorry Mr Jenks,” Jonny said miserably. “Miss Eleanor must think I’m a right simpleton.”

“I’d be more concerned at what Sir George thinks of you,” I said.

Jonny gulped. “Do you think I’ll get the sack Mr Jenks?” he asked anxiously.

“No, not if I explain what happened. But to do that I need to know which maid it was who played this silly trick on you.”

Jonny shuffled his feet in the gravel, clearly torn between his need to protect himself and his loyalty to his friends in the servants’ hall.

“It were Rose,” he admitted at last.

I sighed to myself. Rose Allenby, if there was mischief afoot then you could be sure that Rose would be at the bottom of it. Why it was only a few weeks ago that I had caught her eavesdropping at the housekeeper’s door. I had warned her that she would be seeing Sir George if there was any more nonsense. However, I had just watched Sir George drive off into the distance and knew that he wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. I would have to deal with the silly maid myself. I turned back to Jonny.

“I would be grateful if you didn’t say anything to Rose. Rest-assured I will deal with her.”

“Yes Mr Jenks, I’ll get this ‘ere cleared up.”

I left him to it and strolled back through the house, checking to see if all was in order and to my satisfaction. I arrived back downstairs just at the right moment. I paused outside the kitchen door as I heard Rose’s voice. Clearly Jonny had just got back.

“Didn’t the motor-car need any hay Jonny?” she giggled. “Wasn’t it hungry? Nay!!” she neighed like a horse and dissolved into a fit of giggles, joined by the other maids.

I turned away. If I needed confirmation that it was indeed Rose who was the instigator of this silly practical joke then now I had it. However, before I dealt with her there were some arrangements to be made. I spoke first to Mrs Fuller and then after luncheon to Miss Downing.
So it was that at three o’clock I was up in the schoolroom with our governess. When I had told her what had occurred and what I proposed she was more than willing to be of assistance. There was a knock on the schoolroom door.

“Enter,” Miss Downing called out.

The door was pushed open and in walked Rose, bearing a tea tray, complete with pot, milk jug, sugar bowl and two cups and saucers.

“Oh! Mr Jenks!” she exclaimed when she saw me. She blushed a little – a guilty conscience no doubt.

“Oh indeed Rose Allenby. Put the tea tray on the desk if you please.”

Rose set the tea tray down and went to go.

“No Rose, stay there, I’d like a word with you.”

Rose stood still and clasped her hands behind her back.

“Yes Mr Jenks,” she said innocently.

“I’d like to speak to you about a very silly practical joke that was played on Jonny this morning.”

“I don’t know anything about that Mr Jenks,” Rose said immediately.

“Don’t tell lies Rose,” I said calmly, “I heard you teasing him when he got back to the kitchen.”

Rose had the grace to blush properly now. “Oh dear,” she said.

“It may have been amusing for you and the other maids but it was humiliating for Jonny. You had him embarrass himself in front of Sir George; you could have cost him his job.”

“I never meant that to happen!” Rose said, clearly surprised by the news. “I just wanted him to go to Miss Eleanor with his bale of hay. I knew she’d find it funny.”

“She did find it amusing, but Sir George did not and neither did I. I have had enough of your silly behaviour Rose Allenby, if it’s not one thing it’s another and you are old enough to know better. I would send you to Sir George but he is away for a few days. So I have decided to deal with you myself.”

“Thank you Mr Jenks,” she said quickly. No doubt she was relieved that she didn’t have to explain herself to Sir George, but if she thought she had got off lightly she was very much mistaken.

“You deserve a caning, and a caning you shall have young lady. However, since it is not an implement that I have used before I have asked Miss Downing to give me some instruction. However, it will be you, not I who is learning the lesson.” I smiled at my little joke. “Miss Downing?”

“Thank you Mr Jenks,” Miss Downing said. “As Rose has brought up the tea I think we should enjoy it before she is punished. Which will also give Rose the chance to think about what she has done and how much she deserves to be disciplined.”

She turned to Rose. “Rose, go over to the cabinet, open the door and bring me the longest cane you see there.”

I saw Rose gulp, “Yes miss,” she replied.

I watched as she crossed the room to open the wooden cabinet. Inside were Miss Downing’s collection of instruments of correction. It had been a good selection at the start of the year but I believe she has added to it over the months. From all accounts the implements have been well used. Rose reached up and unhooked the longest of the canes. She brought it over to Miss Downing who placed it on the desk beside the tea tray.

“Turn around,” Miss Downing ordered.

Rose turned her back to us. Miss Downing took a large pin out of her desk drawer. She lifted Rose’s skirts and pinned them up across the shoulders of her uniform. She then undid the waist-ties of Rose’s knickers and let them drop. Rose gave a little gasp as she felt the garment fall around her ankles. I looked on with interest. Rose is a petite, auburn haired girl and her bottom is pert and round.

“Put your hands behind your back,” Miss Downing told her.

Rose did so and Miss Downing took the cane and placed it in her fingers.

“Go and stand in the corner facing the wall with the cane held across your bottom,” she ordered, “Mr Jenks and I don’t want to have to look at your silly expression whilst we have our tea. You can think about what a wicked girl you have been and how much you deserve to be punished.”
Shame-faced, Rose shuffled across to the corner of the room, her movements constrained by the knickers that were around her ankles.

Miss Downing and I took a leisurely tea, talking of this and that. Occasionally, I glanced over at Rose. She did look very fetching standing there awaiting her fate. Her bare bottom was very white and very pretty, it would look even prettier with red stripes across it.

When we had slaked our thirst Miss Downing cleared the tea things onto one of the small desks where Miss Charlotte and Miss Lucy usually sat for their lessons.

She called Rose over, “Come here young lady.” She sounded very strict and Rose looked very white-faced when she turned and walked towards us. Miss Downing took the cane and gave it a few cuts through the air, making Rose tremble.

“Bend over the desk,” she ordered. “Dip your back and lift your bottom girl. You have been a very wicked little thing and you are going to get your just desserts.”

“Yes Miss,” came the choking reply.

“Right Mr Jenks, I’ll give you a couple of markers and then I’ll instruct you in how it’s done.”
I watched as she placed the cane quite high across Rose’s small bottom. She drew her arm back, paused, and then brought the cane swishing through the air. Rose gave a yelp of pain and alarm as the rod made contact. Where she had been struck was a line of purest white. Even as I watched the stripe turned colour, from white, through pink, to red. Miss Downing took aim again, the cane placed low this time, just a fraction above the crease at the top of Rose’s thighs. She gave a couple of taps with the rod then lifted it high and brought it swishing down. Rose gave a louder cry and stamped her feet.

“Keep still girl,” Miss Downing said sharply.

She turned to me. “If you come closer Mr Jenks you will see the effect we are after. See how the stripe is a nice red colour and the edges are raised to for a weal? And yet the skin is not broken. Run your finger along it and you’ll see what I mean.”

I did so, there was a distinct ridge where the cane had bitten hard. Rose gave a little moan as I stroked my finger along the cane stripe.

“Those two stripes are your markers Mr Jenks. No strokes should go higher than the first stripe as there is a risk of damaging the back. Nor, in normal circumstances should any stroke go lower than the second stripe. Of course, one may cane a girl’s legs if she deserves it but I tend to reserve that for the more heinous crimes.”

She handed the cane to me.

“Stand to her left Mr Jenks, not too far back or the cane won’t make proper contact.”

I took up the position she indicated.

“Good, now place the cane across the middle of her bottom, right across the fullest part of her cheeks. Yes, that’s correct. Draw back your arm, not too far, or it’s difficult to be accurate. Keep your eyes on the target then bring the cane down with a nice flick of your wrist.”

I concentrated hard and tried to follow what she told me. The cane is harder to use than the strap but it was very satisfying to hear the sound echo around the classroom as it landed home across the middle of Rose’s cheeks. She gasped out loud but stayed still this time.

Miss Downing inspected the damage.

“A good accurate stroke Mr Jenks, but I think it needs to be quite a lot harder than that or she won’t really feel it. Try again with a bit more force behind it.”

I smiled, I had no doubt that Rose would be glad not to really feel it. I tried again, focussing this time on putting more into the stroke, using my wrist more. I was rewarded with a loud cry from Rose and a nice red line across her bottom.

“Bravo Mr Jenks,” Miss Downing smiled, “That’s more the ticket.”

“Another?” I asked.

“Oh I should say so. She’s been a very naughty girl hasn’t she? A good thrashing will teach her a lesson she won’t forget in a hurry.”

It was a damn good thrashing I gave Rose Allenby. A dozen more times I laid the cane across her pert bottom until it was well-marked with red stripes and she was openly sobbing. Miss Downing nodded her approval. I handed the cane back to her.

“I think that should be sufficient Miss Downing,” I said.

Miss Downing cast her critical eye over Rose’s punished cheeks. “Yes,” she nodded, “you’ve marked her nicely Mr Jenks. However, just to drive the point home I’ll give her a couple of cuts to the backs of her legs.”

“No, please!” Rose begged desperately.

“Quiet girl,” Miss Downing snapped.

“I thought you reserved that for the most serious of offences Miss Downing?” I queried.

“I consider humiliating a fellow servant and risking his livelihood a very serious matter Mr Jenks… or would you demure?”

I saw a light in Miss Downing’s eyes that I had rarely seen before. She certainly had an enthusiasm for her task, and it was difficult to dispute her logic. Rose certainly deserved all that she was getting.

“Go ahead Miss Downing,” I said.

Before Rose had chance to protest again Miss Downing brought the cane swishing down across the back of her thighs. Rose squealed loudly and had not chance to catch her breath before the cane was whipped down a second time. The stripes looked very sore indeed.

Miss Downing stood back and we both admired our handiwork. Rose lay across the desk crying softly now. Her bottom was beautifully striped with the red lines of the cane, the two weals across the backs of her legs standing out very clear against her soft white skin. I suspected it was the severest punishment she had ever suffered in her short life.

Miss Downing unpinned Rose’s skirts and I told the maid to stand. I gave her my handkerchief and she wiped her eyes and loudly blew her nose.

“Clear the tea things away and get down to the kitchen I ordered. And you can stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you are sore you have only yourself to blame.”

“Yes Mr Jenks,” Rose sniffled.

She gathered up the tea tray and made her way to the door, walking very stiffly and wincing as she moved.

“Thank you Miss Downing,” I said once Rose had gone, “that was very instructive.”

“My pleasure Mr Jenks,” she replied. And I do believe it was!