Their Master's Pleasure (5 page)

‘Don't feel too badly about it,' I said, ‘they used to have that same effect on me. You'll get used to them in time, believe me. I gather their visit wasn't entirely wasted, however, judging by their appearance?'

‘Not entirely. They insisted on having something they called their “treat”, refusing to leave the room till I'd serviced the pair of them.'

I could almost picture it - my godson trapped in his own bedroom by a couple of strapping young women and being browbeaten into mounting them. I couldn't help but smile at his predicament, and Freddie smiled too, somewhat ruefully. I was glad to see he was taking it in good spirit.

‘Don't despair, my boy,' I said. ‘Knowing those two I'd be astonished if an opportunity to discipline them doesn't arise shortly; and when it does, what say we join forces? It will take more than a couple of maids - no matter how peculiar - to get the better of us, don't you think?'

Freddie's face cleared and he nodded enthusiastically. ‘That sounds most agreeable, sir. I'd welcome the chance to see you in action at close quarters, as it were. I'm sure I have a lot to learn from an expert like yourself.'

‘Well, that may be so,' I said, gratified that he should hold me in such high regard. ‘I've been at this game a good few years, so by rights I should have picked up a trick or two along the way. It's a brave man who claims to know
everything
, mind you, no matter what the subject. Who can tell - maybe I'll learn something from you?'

 

 

Passing by the classroom a day or two later I heard the unmistakable sound of rod striking flesh, accompanied by a cheery cry.

‘
Hup
-la!'

It was Freddie's voice and I halted in my tracks, quite at a loss to imagine why he should have occasion to punish one of my wards, or indeed feel he was entitled to do so. Then, a moment or two later, a second voice spoke up.

‘Vingt-quatre, Monsieur Frederick.'

That was undoubtedly Mrs Hammond - though why she should be speaking French was a mystery. I was no less perplexed, however, for surely there could be no more justification for punishing the governess? I opened the door quietly and poked my head inside the room. Sure enough, there were my three wards seated at their desks, with Frederick and Irene Hammond standing before them. The governess was clutching her skirts about her waist, her discarded drawers on the floor by her feet. My godson stood behind her holding a riding crop - a garish yellow thing that he must have brought with him, for it was certainly not one of mine - and he drew back his arm and delivered a firm swipe to her bare buttocks.

‘
Hup
-la!' he cried, the sound of the striking crop coinciding with the ‘hup'.

Mrs Hammond let out a muffled gasp as her hips thrust forward and her heels lifted clear of the rug.

‘Vingt-cinq, Monsieur Frederick,' she said, in a voice that wavered mightily.

I do not claim fluency in French, or indeed any foreign language, yet this was no great challenge. As any schoolboy would know, the governess was counting and the count had now reached twenty-five. Freddie paused, studying her buttocks carefully. Her smooth, pale flesh was crisscrossed with raised wheals, dark red in tone, showing purple where the crop had bitten especially deeply. From their appearance I knew this was no perfunctory beating: the blows had some considerable weight behind them. As I watched, my godson raised the crop slowly and gave her another.

‘
Hup
-la!'

‘Vingt-six, Monsieur Frederick.'

Freddie lowered his arm. ‘Not good enough, madam. Not
nearly
good enough, I have to say. Perhaps harder strokes might encourage your efforts, do you think?'

The governess made no reply, but her dismay and apprehension were only too apparent.

‘We shall try it and see,' Freddie said. He turned to her three pupils. ‘I trust you are learning a salutary lesson here, young ladies? Diligence in one's studies is most necessary if one wishes to avoid unpleasantness of this sort.'

My wards said nothing, but looked on with varying degrees of interest. Elizabeth, to judge by her expression, was faintly amused by the proceedings. Though there had never been any open hostility between them, my eldest ward and the governess were not close. Mrs Hammond often helped me discipline the girls and I suspect Elizabeth saw her as a member of the ‘enemy camp'. Victoria appeared far more engrossed, gazing at the performing pair with an absorbed expression as though she wished to be personally involved - though whether as spanker or spankee, I couldn't say. Cathy, predictably, simply looked bored.

‘Are you ready, Mrs Hammond?' Freddie asked.

‘Yes, sir,' the governess murmured unhappily.

My godson sighed. ‘I believe I instructed you to speak French, did I not? Such wilful disobedience is simply not to be tolerated, especially from one who is supposed to be setting a good example. I
had
intended stopping at thirty, but it will have to be considerably more than that now. You do see why, Mrs Hammond?'

‘Oui, Monsieur Frederick.'

‘Good. Remain still, madam.'

Freddie raised the crop once more and whipped it downwards. It contacted with a resounding
thwack
and Irene Hammond let out a shrill cry. He had been true to his word - that had been a hard stroke by anyone's standards. The governess trembled in its aftermath and it was some moments before she spoke, her voice breaking as she did so. ‘Vingt-sept, Monsieur Frederick.'

It was with mixed feelings that I regarded the scene in front of me. Though it was undoubtedly entertaining to see Mrs Hammond put through her paces in this fashion, I felt it was bad for discipline for my wards to witness her humiliation. I also felt Freddie had exceeded his authority somewhat in singling out the governess for punishment. A governess was hardly a ‘servant', yet that was the precise word I used - to the best of my recollection - when I gave him permission to discipline certain members of the household. Not that I blamed him for trying, you understand; at his age I had done as much and more.

Each year, at the beginning of June, my grandfather would attend a regimental reunion in London. He would be gone for a week, and the minute he left a holiday atmosphere pervaded the place. Maids went about their duties with a spring in their step and smiles on their faces, knowing their bottoms were safe for seven whole days. I, on the other hand, greatly resented my grandfather's absence - as a confirmed voyeur I liked nothing better than watching him ‘go to work' on some unfortunate young woman, seeing the stripes bloom and the tears start to flow. Then, in June of 1863 (the date is indelibly etched into my brain) something truly wonderful occurred. On the morning of his departure my grandfather sent for me and as I entered his study I saw Mrs Young, the housekeeper, standing by his desk.

‘Jamie,' my grandfather said, ‘my carriage is waiting and I shall be leaving soon for the capital. I judge that you are now old enough and sensible enough to take charge while I'm away. Remember what I've taught you - be firm but fair at all times and should a difficult situation arise, be guided by your good judgment. Above all, my boy, never forget that I have every confidence in you.'

And with that he handed me the key to the bureau in his study - the bureau that housed his implements of correction. I gaped at the thing as though it were the Holy Grail.

‘Mrs Young,' my grandfather said, turning to the tall, thin woman beside him, ‘you will kindly inform the household of my decision.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Grandfather,' I said, hardly daring to believe this was happening, ‘sir, does this mean...?'

He nodded solemnly. ‘It means precisely that. You have my permission and my blessing to thrash the staff while I'm gone.'

Fifteen minutes later he departed. We stood there on the steps, the housekeeper and I, watching the coach clatter away down the drive.

‘Well, Master Jamie,' Mrs Young said, with a jauntiness that seemed to me rather forced, ‘this is a turn up for the books, isn't it?'

It may be she was attempting to ingratiate herself with the new - albeit temporary - master, or perhaps it was no more than chatter for chatter's sake. Either way I found her manner particularly irritating and turned to stare at her coolly. ‘From now on, madam, I wish you to address me as “Master James”. Can you remember that, do you think, or shall we find some means to impress it firmly upon you?'

‘I... I'm very sorry, Master James,' she stammered, blanching. ‘Forgive me... I meant no offence.'

‘Indeed?' I said, fingering the key in my pocket. ‘I can assure you that offence was taken. You will follow me to the study, Mrs Young, where you will have ample opportunity to demonstrate true contrition.'

I doubt my grandfather could have guessed I would be unlocking the bureau literally within minutes of his departure. I doubt Mrs Young imagined so either, but then life is full of surprises, not all pleasant. She had been my grandfather's housekeeper for many years and was by nature a haughty woman, fond of ordering others about. As a boy I had frequently felt the sharpness of her tongue, for she seemed to delight in scolding me whenever my grandfather was absent from the room. Here, finally, was my chance for retribution.

Though her ‘sin' had been trivial I did not spare her. Mindful of past humiliations I made her strip naked, after which I subjected her to a long and arduous strapping. The punishment far exceeded the crime, but I felt no remorse. I beat Mrs Young till she fell to her knees blubbering and begging for mercy - only then, when she had been thoroughly humbled, was I satisfied. My secret friend and spy below stairs, Jessie the scullery maid, told me the housekeeper took all her meals standing for the next two days and was obliged to sleep face down. Revenge, as the saying goes, is sweet!

That first punishment opened the floodgates: no female save Jessie was safe from me. I carried the strap with me at all times and used it at every opportunity, beating maids for the most trifling of offences and sometimes for no reason at all. ‘Firm but fair', my grandfather had said, but though there was no lack of firmness, I was far from fair. Mrs Young perhaps deserved the treatment she received, but many of the others did not. Deep down I knew this and felt guilty as a result, but seemed unable to stop myself. I was like a child left alone in a sweet shop, greedily stuffing chocolates into his mouth in the knowledge that the shopkeeper would return soon and put a stop to the feast.

Upon my grandfather's return I was again called to the study. ‘I hear the strap has been busy in my absence, young man,' he said, in an unusually stern manner. ‘The maids are actually happy to have me back for once.'

I hung my head. ‘It's true, sir,' I mumbled, ‘I fear I've been far too... enthusiastic. I'm sorry, grandfather.'

He stared at me for a few moments longer, then his face creased into a broad smile. ‘Never be ashamed of what you are, Jamie, and never apologise for it. Spankers spank - it's what we do, dammit! If you've shown an excess of zeal this past week... well, so would I at your age. Indeed, I'd have been astonished and disappointed if you hadn't. You're a man after my own heart, Jamie, do you hear? A man after my own heart!'

That was so very typical of my grandfather, taking away all my guilt with just a few kindly words. No wonder I loved the old fellow more than life itself.

 

 

A sharper cry from Irene Hammond brought me back to the present with a jolt. While I had been daydreaming the count had risen inexorably and it was clear the governess was experiencing the greatest difficulty remaining still under the hot kiss of the crop. She was trembling violently, her cheeks were streaked with tears and her misery was plain to hear when she spoke.

‘Trente-huit, Monsieur Frederick.'

Thirty-eight, indeed! And still my godson showed no sign of wishing to end the session. He waited till she became still once more, then whipped the yellow crop across her burning buttocks.

‘Aaahhhh!' she cried. ‘Ahhh! Trente-neuf... Monsieur Frederick!'

I was in something of a quandary at this point, concerned as I was that my wards were witnessing this. For their governess to be beaten in front of them was bad enough, but it wasn't the worst that could happen. Simply by continuing in this selfsame fashion Freddie could, if he so wished, reduce her to a weeping, quivering wreck, pleading for forgiveness, much as I had with Mrs Young. That would be disastrous, for how could Irene Hammond hope to retain the respect of my wards after they had seen her broken and degraded; and without their respect, how could she remain an effective teacher?

I could simply walk in and put a stop to it, of course, but that would put Freddie in the wrong. At his age, heaven knows, I made mistakes aplenty, but my grandfather was never less than totally supportive. Not once did he show disapproval or contradict me in front of others, no matter how unfair or idiotic my actions - though he might well have something to say to me afterwards, in private. How could I do less for my godson?