Ruled by the Rod (17 page)

I knelt by
papa, calling to him to reassure me he was in health. I felt
desperately for a pulse, I leant my ear against his chest to listen
for his heart, I laid my cheek against his lips to feel for his
breath. Nothing! No pulse, no heartbeat, no respiration. Our papa
had gone to his maker.

Dropping my
skirts, which had stayed about my waist, I ran, unhampered by
fetters, the loose band and the crotch chain rattling between my
legs. I had not run freely so for months and the precipitate nature
of my coming alerted my sisters to the presence of some
catastrophe. They ran with me, as fast as their linked knees would
allow, and came to where our dear papa lay. Nothing had changed,
there was no mistake, no last minute reprieve.

He was
dead.

After our
first paroxysms of grief had subsided, we considered what best to
do. We could not leave him there on the floor, his britches and his
small clothes all undone. In life he had always maintained a rigid
dignity, and we could not let it be less in death. Between us we
carried him to his room and put him in a night-shirt, cleaning from
his maleness that foul substance he had been expelling at his
going, and the shameful excretions of my own body. We composed his
hands above his prayer book, lying on his chest, and left him to
his peace.

In the morning
we found him thus, departed peacefully at his prayers, and sent for
the attorney from Sexton Hinds, who was papa's man of affairs.

The funeral
took place three days later. There was a large congregation of
parishioners and admirers of the sermons that papa had published
for the edification of men, lay and clerical, who had care of the
souls and bodies of the weaker sex.

But of family
there was none.

Papa had no
relatives that we knew of. Certainly he had never spoken of any,
and we had lost all contact with our mother's family after her
death.

We entertained
them all at the vicarage, and thanked those who had come from afar
to honour a man of learning and erudition, whose teachings on the
holy duty of women to submit to men, and of men to rule them with
firmness and the rod, had been such a power for good in a world
falling into the devil's clutches, for the evil one is well known
to work his wickedness through the agency of women.

The surprise
came at the end of the day when, all others having gone their ways,
we sat down, wearily, with the little wizened attorney, to hear
papa's will, and what estate we might have.

His will was
simple.

He left
everything he had to the three of us, jointly. He said he trusted
that his efforts over the years had done much to curb the natural
waywardness and destructive potential of our kind, but that we
should be forever on our guard, and if we felt our natures to be
taking control of our lives, to place ourselves immediately in the
care of some strong man, who would direct us back to a proper
path.

His trust in
us was touching, but his estate took us quite aback.

We had known
nothing of his affairs, thinking simply that his stipend had
sustained us all, and would now cease, leaving us destitute once a
new vicar was appointed to the living. So imagine our surprise to
learn that he had left us a small fortune. Not the wealth of the
truly rich, but enough invested in the funds to ensure we might
live comfortably for the rest of our lives.

Its origins
were obscure, but it seemed in part to have been our mother's
dowry, and part his earnings from the hundreds of improving works
he had published.

We began to
plan a glowing future. It was Charlotte who suggested that we
should leave the county for Bath, that elegant and fashionable
town, where we could live in ease and enjoy the arts, music and
society it offered.

At first
Marion demurred, saying that Bath was too dangerous for us; a city
full of idleness, shallow girls and scheming matrons, and all
manner of light people. But Charlotte persuaded her that we had all
the more reason to go, since we might serve as beacons of light to
those young women liable to be seduced by the licentiousness of the
city, showing them how another way of life was possible, giving
true fulfilment.

And so we
began to lay our plans for the translation from country vicarage to
fashionable Bath.

The euphoria
did not last. Although we still spoke of life in Bath, each of us
was having private doubts, but did not, at first, share them with
the others. By unspoken agreement we had conducted our lives, since
papa's untimely demise, exactly as he had taught us. We still
resorted to the stable yard at dawn, to squirm and shudder under
the pump. We still walked with heads held high by our collars. We
still wore our crotch chains, hauled up taut as bowstrings, though
we did drop them at night to wash our sore flesh since, with no men
to serve, they would otherwise have remained in place day in day
out to the detriment of health and hygiene.

And at night
we lay in our beds, wrestling with the temptation to ease our
fretful spirits by stroking our pubic buds.

Since our
visit to the doctor's surgery, we had all made a good recovery,
though Charlotte's had been delayed by her repeated returns. My own
tender tip had hurt excruciatingly and throbbed for days, keeping
me from sleep with its insistent pain, but all things pass, and
within a month I found my fingers straying to it again.

Moreover, it
seemed if anything, a trifle more sensitive than before. Marion had
healed alongside me, and confided that she was in a similar case.
Poor Charlotte had a longer and harder road to tread, and was not
ready to essay the soothing touch for several weeks after we had
already found we were still capable of receiving relief by this
route.

When she did
come to essay the delights of her bud, she found that the doctor
had partially succeeded in his aim of rendering her immune to such
stimulation, for she found it less sensitive by far than
heretofore. But she was far from deprived of feeling in that spot,
and it was not long before she had discovered how to arouse it to
remission, by running her fingertip around the base, with a firm
touch that conveyed the pressure to the still active nerves beneath
the surface, and accomplishing her end by slightly indirect
means.

Now though, we
had no one to confess these departures from discipline to, and fell
into the way of going to papa's study, and entering them in his
leather-bound ledger, just as he had been wont to do when we had
confessed our sins to him.

Could we
continue this life in Bath, and if not, what would become of us
without the support and discipline it rendered? We began to think
more and more on how we would cope, on our own, without a man's
strong hand to rein in our natural female follies.

We would go to
pieces.

We would go
astray.

We would go,
as papa never tired of warning us, to the devil.

Matters came
to a head when Mr Bendham arrived one day with the finished
'horse'. We did not know what to do. We could not turn him away,
and it was in any case a pet scheme of papa's, and must be honoured
for his sake. So we had him take it up to the study.

After he had
been paid and gone, we went back up to the study to view the new
arrival. It was a fine piece of work, as one would expect from Mr
Bendham, a craftsman of the old school. Its polished surfaces
gleamed and shone. The brass work of the step mechanism winked in
the lamplight, the black straps glowed darkly. Along its top the
dark yew stretched like a strip of polished jet. We looked at it,
and at each other. It was no surprise that Charlotte spoke first;
she was still the forward one, but her words startled me, though
they but echoed my own thoughts.

'Such an
exquisite piece of work, and we shall never know its feel,' she
said, almost wistfully.

None of us
spoke for a minute, then Marion said, 'I wish to know what caused
that poor deluded woman to recover her womanhood. With your help, I
will mount the horse after supper, and make trial of its
effect.'

We murmured
our assent, and went down to prepare our evening meal.

Afterwards we
gathered in papa's study and looked again at the seemingly harmless
example of the joiner's careful work. Marion had us lift the plank
steps until they locked in their raised position, ready to bear a
rider's feet, then examined the yoke to support the neck, without
taking any of the weight.

'I shall
dispense with this,' she declared, and proceeded to take off her
dress. Quickly she stripped to her stays, discarding gown and
petticoats, boots and stockings, taking off her fetters, unlatching
her crotch chain and tucking it into her corset lace, so that it
was held well clear of her crease.

'Come,
Charlotte,' she said, turning her back, 'make haste to secure my
arms behind, as you saw that woman's,' and then, when Charlotte had
carried out her wishes, she stepped onto one of the raised planks
and swung one long leg over, to reach the other side. She stood a
minute, her nether lips poised just above the iron-hard black rib
of yew wood, lowering herself until she made an experimental
contact, then spoke again.

'Annabel,
dearest, part my lips there as you saw in the penitentiary, and
Charlotte, do you fasten my ankles for me.'

The straps for
securing the ankles were attached to the outer edges of the steps,
so that when they fell to their lowered position, and locked in
place, the ankles were drawn down with them, and the legs stretched
taut. When I had gently parted her plump nether lips, she lowered
herself fully, until the yew edge pressed firmly into her pink
inner flesh, and sat with her weight mostly on that portion.

'Shall I lift
the lever?' Charlotte asked, for the mechanism that dropped the
plank steps was operated by a lever at the end of the
structure.

'No,' she
replied through clenched teeth, 'it is not something I would ask
either of you to do for me. Fasten a cord to it and put it in my
fingers, then put out the lamp and leave me. Come back no sooner
than a half-hour, to see how I fare. If you remain I might cry out
for help before I have tasted it fully, or your tender hearts may
mistakenly terminate my trial before it is complete.'

Charlotte and
I looked at each other, doubtfully, but she was our older sister,
and we had always deferred to her instruction. We made up the cord
as she had asked, and left the room, taking the lamp with us.

Outside the
door we both paused, with the same idea that we should stay a
moment to guard against disaster, for neither Marion nor the
apparatus had been tested before. We waited with bated breath for a
count of ten or so, then heard a clack as the lever lifted and the
steps dropped down and latched into place. Immediately there was a
gasp from Marion, as of surprise at what she felt, then
silence.

When the quiet
had lasted a full minute, we crept away, reassured she was not
immediately in distress, and feeling guilt at listening so
furtively outside the closed door.

We waited
below in some concern, watching the clock, and hurrying back up as
soon as it showed thirty minutes had passed, taking the lamp with
us. As we entered the room we were aware of a low groaning, and
found Marion rocking slightly on her cruel perch, her body strained
and tense. Though she was perhaps more softly covered than the
woman we had seen at the prison, nevertheless her every muscle
stood out below her skin, perspiration beaded her forehead, and
tricked between her shoulders, her head lolled back as far as her
tall collar would allow.

When she saw
us she exclaimed in a strained voice, asking how long had elapsed
and, when we told her we had come prompt at the half-hour, as she
requested, she groaned again.

'Take me
down,' she said, 'it feels as if I have been hung here more like
three hundred minutes, not thirty. I have my answer now; this is a
dreadful situation for a woman, and not to be endured. Quickly now,
get me down.'

We hastened to
do her bidding, undoing her wrists and releasing her ankles, then
lifting her between us until she stood, or rather, half crouched,
on the floor, for the pain in her fork led her to put her hands to
it for comfort and hunch herself over them. We hurried her to her
bed, and laid her gently in it, then soothed her to sleep without
questioning her about the ordeal.

The next day
comes Mr Attorney, with documents to sign, and the Bath papers,
with details of the social whirl and, more to our purpose,
properties to let. We had a busy day with him, and with the
advertisements after he had taken his leave, laying them out on the
table and trying to distinguish through the fog of fantasy what
sort of dwellings they might be, for householders will ever laud
their sheds as palaces, and their agents are even less to be relied
upon.

I sensed that
Marion's heart was not in it, and Charlotte, too, seemed a little
distrait, while I myself found my mind not as taken up by the plan
for Bath as formerly, my thoughts returning to the previous evening
and the scene in papa's study.

We made
desultory revue of the houses on offer and then took our evening
meal. After supper, Charlotte, who had been uncharacteristically
silent, stood up and removed her clothes, leaving only her corset.
She said not a word until she was stripped, nor did we question
what she did.

When she had
laid her fetters on the table she turned to us and said, 'I am
going to the study. Will you come for me in forty minutes, to see
how I do,' and left us staring after her.

I turned to
Marion, but she nodded reassuringly and said, 'Let her be. This is
something each must do for herself.'