Enrolling Little Etta (11 page)

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "What was that?"

"Forgive me, sir. I continue to burn myself. I find I am not used to tea so hot and fresh," she said, trying to apologize.

"Proper ladies do not use such vulgar, blasphemous and disrespectful language in this home."

"I am sorry," Etta said again.

"That is not enough. Stand up this instant." He stared at her, waiting for her to follow his order.

Etta slowly stood up, gazing down at him fearfully.

"Take off your dress. You will be soundly thrashed for the words that slipped from that tongue of yours. Be glad I am not cleaning your mouth out with soap. Luckily for you, I need the maid to fetch some, but if she were on duty at this hour, I would be shoving a bar in your mouth."

Etta wished more than anything she'd have put those stupid bloomers back on. Embarrassed, she lifted the gown up off her body, letting it hit the floor.

Thomas stood and walked over toward the bed. Sitting atop the dresser was a strip of black leather, looped over itself. "Over my knees," he said, ordering her down onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the mattress.

"What is that?"

"A strap. This is what you will get to your backside for disobeying the rules of the house."

She swallowed nervously, knowing what was to come. She had been spanked enough times now to know it would not be pleasant, though it had never been with a strap. It looked a bit like a belt, though shorter, and with less chance of landing anywhere but its intended destination.

Etta rested her stomach over his lap, her breasts brushing against his pants. He had the perfect view of her taut cheeks.

"I suggest you relax. Clenching only makes the pain worse. Spread your legs further apart," he commanded.

Etta separated her legs until they were a hands-width apart.

"More."

She guided her legs further and felt her quim open. A cool rush of air seeped toward the heat of her thighs. She buried her head downward, refusing to show her face. This was humiliating! Was this how he intended to discipline her after they were married?

The strap came down without warning, causing Etta to jump and flinch. Her hips lifted off his waist and she yelped in protest.

"Enough!" He did not seem pleased by her outburst. "You will wake the girls."

Good. Then maybe he would be forced to stop. She did not dare ask how many swats she'd get to her rear.

The strap came down again, this time between her cheeks, and with her legs separated, she could have sworn it grazed her pink pucker, forcing another whimper from her lips. He did not soften any blows by rubbing her bottom, or soothe her with any consoling words.

She knew this was discipline but it felt harsher, stricter than she was used to. Perhaps it was because she'd only said a bad word, and he was using a strap that was causing far more pain than a simple spanking with his hand would have. She had not realized how much more she preferred Nanny Mae's firm palm to anything else that landed on her bottom.

Thomas let the strap smack her arse again. A new welt blossomed on her backside, she felt certain that the blistering would take weeks to go away. The pain radiated deep below the surface of skin.

"I am sorry," she whispered. Tears did not come but the pain certainly grew with each stroke of the strap. He covered her plush cheeks, just below her bottom and two more swats to the top of her roundness. Thomas was certainly making sure to leave no area white for her lesson on proper language in his home.

Etta lost count of the number of strokes she endured with the strap. Tears finally came and soaked his pants, though Thomas made no mention of it. When he finished, he dropped the implement onto the bed.

"Stand up, look at me," he said, giving her commands. She had no choice but to follow them, afraid he'd continue spanking her raw bottom otherwise.

Etta met his stare, her eyes must have been red and swollen from crying.

"After every punishment, you will show your remorse by baring every bit of flesh for an hour. Anyone who walks in will see what you have done. They'll be witness to your swollen bottom. This is how you will atone for your sins."

She swallowed nervously. "What if your children walk in?"

"Then what better a lesson for them to learn than to see what happens when they do not obey their husband," Thomas said. "If you are shy in regards to your body, then I expect you will not make the same mistake ever again."

She reached to cover her breasts but he captured her hands in his. "Do not hide yourself from me or anyone else on this estate. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now go and stand with your nose in the corner and your hands resting on the top of your head."

She did as he ordered without saying another word.

Regretting that he'd missed reading Etta a story last night before bed, Philip checked in on the nursery, not finding any sign of Etta. Her bed was made, the room quiet and dark.

Perhaps she was with the littles in the playroom. It was far too late for her to still be eating breakfast. Nanny Beth would have got Etta up early and made sure she was finished with her meal and bath before ten. It was nearing eleven, and he had not seen any sign of her. The littles' wing in Ashby was not that big.

Heading toward the playroom, he glanced through the glass window. He caught sight of Gracie and Leda playing quietly together. Where the blazes was his little Etta?

Nanny Beth sat with Nanny Vivian, chatting together in the corner by the door. Why was Nanny Beth not with Etta? His head spun with rage. Yes, he'd been mistaken about Nanny Mae and had been a fool to trust her, but Nanny Beth had given him no reason to doubt her. Elizabeth had done an amazing job with the young ladies at the finishing school. Why would her behavior have changed overnight?

Demanding an answer, Philip forced the door open and entered like a storm at sea. "Where is Etta?" He did not wait for her to answer as he stalked up to Nanny Beth. Leda and Gracie were coloring. The girls' heads shot up, their hands pausing over the paper with wide curious eyes.

Perhaps it was best to keep this between the adults. "Outside. Now." He headed for the door, his footsteps heavy on the carpeting as he held it open for Nanny Beth. The moment she stepped out, he let the door slam shut behind her, making it known to all that he was furious.

"Where is Etta?"

"Her papa came to retrieve her last night," Nanny Beth said.

"What?" Philip shook his head. Had he misheard the woman? "
I
am her papa. What are you talking about? Who came to the chateau?" His heart skipped a beat and sweat beaded on his brow. Who would come and kidnap his little girl?

Nanny Beth took a tentative step backwards, concern dawning on her face. "Oh dear. I do not remember the gentleman's name. He arrived with a carriage and had the paperwork that said that Miss Etta was to wed him. It was all in order. He even insisted he had spoken with you and that I was to release her into his care."

"How could you let a stranger take
my
little Etta!" Philip's fists balled at his sides in rage as he stepped closer to Nanny Beth, demanding to know the truth. Had Etta desired to leave the chateau? She'd been doing well with her training, but there had been some setbacks recently.

"I am so sorry, Headmaster Philip." Beth's voice trembled and she wrung her hands together in front of her.

"Sorry is not enough! It does not bring my Etta back!" How could she have blindly gone with a stranger? Had no one else heard the commotion and come to see what was going on? "Did she ask to leave with him?" he went on. Could she have betrayed him by asking a staff member to send a message to someone to help aid in her escape? Would she be so selfish and insolent to do such a thing?

"N-no," Nanny Beth stammered, shaking her head. "Etta was not pleased to go with the gentleman." Her entire body shook in fear and her eyes glistened with tears. "I am so sorry, Headmaster Philip. Please, do not fire me. I need this job, sir. I have a daughter at home and my husband died last December. This is the only way I am able to put food on the table and keep us from living on the street." She continued to ramble and Philip let her, his mind racing about all the terrible things that could be happening to his Etta. "I swear, if I'd had any inkling that he did not belong, I would have come and found you at once. The gentleman kept insisting that he had spoken with you and that he would bring his lawyers here if I did not release her into his custody. I know what that would do to you and this school, and the reputation you have built. I was only trying to help ward off further attention."

Philip tried to ignore the sound of her pleas. He had to look after
his
little one. She was out there, alone with a stranger who seemed to have no respect for the system or authority. What kind of gentleman would swoop in and threaten to expose the chateau by bringing a lawyer into the discussions, unless he was trouble? Which meant Etta was in danger.

The hall spun and sweat coated his skin. He felt as though he might be sick as his heart beat in his chest at an unprecedented pace. Philip would not let anything happen to Etta. "What am I supposed to do, Beth?" he asked. How was he going to find his little love? She was gone, swept off by a stranger with a slip of paper. His anger needed not be directed at Nanny Beth. She had only done what she thought was right, and best for Etta and for the school. Slowly he had to come to terms with what she had done. It had not been to spite him.

"I am sorry, Headmaster Philip. I do not know how to find her. Perhaps if the gentleman spoke the truth and was her betrothed, then her family would know how to find her."

The pit that had formed in his stomach did not vanish but his anger slowly dissipated. Who would have had the rare stones to steal Etta from the chateau, except for Jack Waters? Had someone come to him with a better offer of marriage to his niece? One that did not involve the cost of her education, perchance?

His ears reddened and his neck flushed as though covered with a rash as anger surged through him a second time in just a few short minutes. "By any chance was the gentleman's name Jack Waters?" he asked. Could Etta's uncle have arrived at the chateau and decided against keeping her enrolled?

"No. That was not it, although the name Waters is familiar. Is that Miss Etta's name?" Nanny Beth asked.

"Yes. Henrietta Waters."

"Right!" Beth said, her eyes lighting up. "That was the name on the sheet."

It did little good for her to remember Etta's given name. Had she had an inkling of the man's name, that would have been helpful. "Did he happen to express where he was taking her?" Philip asked again.

"No. I am sorry. If they were betrothed, then I assume he was bringing her back home with him."

Philip could have deduced that much himself. He let out an anxious breath, his hands visibly shaking, though he hoped Nanny Beth had not noticed. "I need to spend some time away from the chateau. Do you think you might be able to look after the littles while I am gone? Specifically, little Gracie. She will need your guidance." He'd only assigned Etta to Nanny Beth but without Nanny Mae, Gracie needed a caring yet firm hand, and Nanny Vivian was looking after little Leda. He did not dare think what would happen between them while he was away. He would have to keep his travel plans a secret from the littles. If they had any idea that only the nannies and their papas were in charge, the place could get turned upside down.

"Of course," Nanny Beth said. "I am sorry about Etta. I had no idea the gentleman was not her papa."

How could she have known? She had been assigned to the finishing school until just yesterday. She did not know who visited, who the girls were betrothed to, and what was expected of the littles. Philip could only blame himself for what had happened. It made him realize that anyone could enter the chateau and take the girls at whim. Not only did he need to find Etta, but he would have to strengthen the security at Ashby. This type of situation must never happen again.

Etta had been humiliated the previous night. After having had the strap applied repeatedly to her bottom, she had been forced to stand completely nude in Thomas's room in the corner until he'd told her to go to bed. Thankfully, the children had not woken, but two other visitors had come by his room. Etta had paid little attention to their names or their positions. The embarrassment had been far too much. They'd been respectful enough not to make any comments. Had they seen this display of power before? Thomas had been married previously. Had his wife truly died, or had she felt unable to take it and run away? Etta did not want to consider what kind of a mother would abandon her children.

"Good morning," a soft small voice greeted her.

Etta rolled onto her side, the gown riding up her thighs as the blankets curled around her. Her bottom still felt sore but she had kept her weight off it while sleeping and would make as many attempts to avoid sitting on it today as well.

Opening her eyes, she found herself staring at a child not more than five or six, with hair as dark as ink and eyes just like her father's. "Hello," Etta said, wondering what the child's name was.

"Hello." The young girl smiled ruefully at Etta.

"Come, Sophia!" a woman scolded the young girl. "I am so sorry, miss."

"It is all right," Etta said, sitting up in bed. She grimaced the moment her bottom hit the mattress. Jumping from the bed, she headed for the armoire, as if that had been her intention all along, to start her day.

Sophia smiled. Did she know what was going on? Etta had not met her last night, but that did not mean she had not heard about it, either.

"I am Nanny Joan, though it seems I might not be around here much longer," the woman said.

"What? Why would you say that?" Etta spun around on her feet, confused.

"Because the children have you now," Nanny Joan said.

Etta shook her head. No. Thomas had never mentioned anything about being their nanny. In fact, he had made it clear that they had a nanny and governess already.

"Do not leave us, Nanny Joan," Sophia said, clinging to the woman's arms.

Etta bent down to face the young girl. "Your Nanny Joan is not going anywhere. All right? I promise you, she will be here as long as she would like to be." Though she knew she had no say in what happened in the Maddock household, she also did not want to scare the child into hating her already. If Thomas spoke about dismissing Nanny Joan, then Etta would step in and speak her mind. She hoped that did not happen anytime soon. Her bottom was still sore from last night, and would be for quite some time.

Sophia watched Etta carefully before relinquishing her tight grasp on Nanny Joan. "Will you come play with me?"

Nanny Joan patted Sophia's back. "How about we let this nice woman get dressed first?"

"I'm Etta," she said, introducing herself. "It is short for Henrietta."

"All right," Sophia said, pouting as Nanny Joan guided her out of the room by her shoulders.

"It is nice to meet you, Etta," Nanny Joan said as she closed the door behind her, leaving the young woman in peace.

Etta walked toward the armoire. What could she wear? The dresses may have only been a few years old, sitting in a closet for safe keeping, but they were not her style; with sequins and silk, far too fancy for an ordinary afternoon. Though, in truth, nothing about Etta's life was typical lately. She had no idea what to expect from Thomas, let alone whether Philip even cared that she had left. Had he been angry when he discovered she had gone missing? She had thought Philip had sent her away, but now that she knew that hadn't been the case, she felt bad about going without saying goodbye. Not that Thomas had afforded her that luxury.

She removed the cotton nightgown and changed into a dark red dress that matched the color of her bottom. Since the welts had had only minimal time to heal, they still hurt immensely as the fabric grazed her skin. Etta did not bother with undergarments, for it felt far more comfortable with nothing underneath after the lashing she'd had for speaking inappropriately. Perhaps if she said nothing to Thomas from now on, it would keep her out of further trouble.

Stepping out from the bedroom, Etta wandered the hall and down the stairs, following the sounds of young children laughing. Would this be her life from now on, caring for Thomas' two girls? It did not sound too terrible, but it was not what she wanted. She missed the chateau and everything it offered. Being cared for and loved had been a wonderful feeling; even with the discipline that had followed. With Thomas, she had the discipline but nothing that made her feel warm and adored, not like with Philip and the nannies.

"Hello, girls," Etta said as she entered the playroom.

Sophia's smile grew with her happiness. "Miss Etta!"

"It is just Etta." She did not want the children to be so formal around her. "I met Sophia upstairs." Etta walked toward the girl who was a bit taller than Sophia, with hair just as dark and matching dark brown eyes. "What is your name?"

The young girl did not answer. She spun around on the floor with her doll, intentionally ignoring Etta.

"She is Mary," Nanny Joan said. "I am sorry about that. Mary is usually so much better behaved. It has been hard after her mother passed away. She is not very accepting of her father's guests."

"Guests?" Did Nanny Joan mean that Etta was not the first woman he had brought into his home? How many others had he considered marrying? What had happened? Had the children driven them off? "Thomas and I are betrothed," Etta added, pointedly.

"My apologies," Nanny Joan said. "I am sure Mary will come around when she realizes you are to be her mother."

Etta could not even remember her own mother. Her father had never been able to afford a nanny or anyone else to care for his daughter.

Heavy footsteps traveled through the hall and into the playroom. "Good," Thomas said. "I have been looking for you this morning, Etta. Come join me for breakfast." It was not a question, but a demand.

"Yes, of course." Etta followed Thomas from the playroom. She glanced back over her shoulder as Mary spun around and stuck her tongue out at her. That child would be difficult indeed. She did not wish to think about the other women who had been chased away by two rambunctious children, though Sophia seemed quite polite and easy to attend to.

"How are you liking the estate thus far?" Thomas asked.

"Your home is quite lovely, as are your daughters."

A smile grazed his features. "I look forward to fathering more children with you." His hand came to rest atop her stomach.

Etta's belly flipped. She had not even thought about children. It would be expected of her to lie in bed with him and produce babies, but she still found the idea repulsive. "I do not know," she stammered.

"You will give me at least three more children. I need a boy to carry on the Maddock name," Thomas informed her.

"Three children?" Etta spat out. He expected five children to run around the estate without incident? It seemed Nanny Joan had enough with just the two girls, keeping her hands plenty full.

"Unless you would like five more?" Thomas said. "I would be quite happy to renegotiate our terms."

Had he not considered the cost of raising so many young children, or was money no object for Thomas? Etta knew her dowry would go to him and it seemed that he'd also acquire some of the funds from the sale of her childhood home.

"Three more children is sufficient," she said, walking alongside him as she followed Thomas into the dining room. The room was rectangular in shape, which matched the large rectangle mahogany table situated several meters inside. A dozen wooden chairs with high backs and intricate carvings matched the table. Sunlight poured in through the window, making the cream colored walls a warm yellow, as the dark gray curtains had been pulled to the side. Sitting on the table was an assortment of breads, fruits, cheeses, and juices. Her mouth watered and stomach rumbled at the sight of such a feast. It all smelled delicious.

"Glad we have that settled." Thomas pulled out the chair and Etta headed over to take a seat, only to see him sit himself down.

She paused, a confused look on her face, before dragging the heavy wooden chair several steps back. Etta sat down, hiding the discomfort of her raw bottom, and scooted herself in, the chair squeaking as it dragged across the floor.

Thomas seemed distracted, dishing out food onto his plate, apparently not even noticing his lack of manners. Was this how he always behaved? If so, then maybe it explained Mary's cold shoulder. She had blatantly learned it from somewhere.

"Help yourself," Thomas said, gesturing toward the trays on the table. He dug in, hungrily devouring his meal. Glancing up after several minutes, his food nearly finished, he examined Etta. "Tell me about your time at Ashby. What were you doing at the Ashby Chateau? Teaching young girls, or taking lessons for yourself?" He sipped his tea, his eyes never leaving hers.

Etta knew lying was a terrible idea, but she could not reveal to him the truth about what had been expected of her at Ashby. He would not understand. It had been kept a secret for a reason, and it was people like Thomas who would look down upon such individuals and their way of life. Etta had at first found it strange, the notion of dressing and acting like a child, but her time spent with Nanny Mae and Papa Philip had changed her feelings about all of it. She missed her own father, but the grief had all but dissolved while she was visiting the chateau. Here at the Maddocks' estate, the sadness loomed above her head like a giant cloud, waiting to unleash its wetness and soak her to the core.

"Did my Uncle Jack not tell you why he sent me away?" Etta asked. Perhaps diverting the question was the best course of action.

"He mentioned his desire to marry you off. It seems no one but I was aware of the betrothal."

"Why is that?" Etta asked.

"Are you questioning the validity of the arrangement?" Thomas asked. His eyes narrowed, and he pushed his chair back from the table. "Get up!" he barked at Etta.

"Excuse me?" She had no idea what she had said or done, but if he was planning to use that strap again, she could not bear it. There was only so much blistering her bottom could take.

"Over my knee."

"What did I do?" Etta asked, placing her fork on the table. Her meal was only half-eaten but any desire to take another bite had disappeared. Her stomach sank. She was not quite sure she would not get sick.

"A woman never questions her husband," Thomas said, his voice shrill as he reached for her arm, dragging her up and out of her seat, pulling her down across his lap.

His grip was strong, and even as she fought to get free, she was no match for his strength. He pulled her over his lap and lifted the hem of her dress, revealing her still blushing bottom from the previous night.

"Please," Etta said, begging to get away. "Do not do this." Her voice was filled with fear and tears dripped down her cheeks as she felt his rough callused palms begin to spank her.

"Butler!" Thomas continued smacking her red cheeks.

"Yes, sir?"

Etta had not seen the gentleman enter the room, and as if it was not horrifying enough to know the stranger could see her bare bottom, Thomas continued to spank her while speaking to him.

"Bring me the paddle. My hand will grow tired after ten or twelve swats."

Etta's eyes widened in horror. She should have been relieved that he was not requesting the strap, but each swat felt more painful than the last, and knowing what was to come only made the pain seep deeper beneath her skin, like a scar that would not go away.

"Please, no!" she cried, her legs kicking and her hips twisting, trying to escape her punishment; one she felt was both harsh and unjustified. She could not see the butler but she could hear his footsteps between smacks to her bare bottom. The burning sizzled through her skin and radiated down her legs as he landed several blows below the plush curves of her buttocks. She would never sit again.

"You will learn that speaking to me in such a tone will not be tolerated," Thomas said. "I am the head of the household. You are nothing more than a woman I have taken in. That will not change when you are my wife."

His harsh statement was met with a painful spank from the paddle.

Etta did not dare answer him. What good would it do? She had lost count of the number of spankings he'd given her. She doubted it would be less than the twenty-five swats with the strap she had endured last night. Perhaps Nanny Joan had a salve she could apply to heal the blistered raw strokes that left marks on her skin. Would she help her, or would Nanny Joan face the same brutality from Thomas? Etta would not wish this on anyone. Not even her worst enemy, which most days was herself.

The wood cracked against her skin, landing on her swollen rear. "I am sorry," she cried, hoping the tears and her apology would be enough to stop Thomas. The more Etta thought about his wife's death, the more she felt certain that the woman had either died from being spanked too much, or she had run off to protect herself. Though why would any sane woman leave her children behind?

"You will obey me from this moment forward, or I will paddle your bottom every night before bed, in addition to the swats you receive for your poor choices in behavior," Thomas said. "One slip-up during the day and you will get fifteen swats of the paddle when you lie down at night."