His Spoilt Lady (15 page)

John, missing
his afternoon siesta that he and Linnett had been taking earlier in
the voyage, was increasingly amorous first thing in the morning.
Linnett was not in the same frame of mind, preferring to sleep
through the dawn. This was causing some friction between the
honeymooners, so that they spent less time together during the day.
Patsy became devoted to Linnett and listened quietly to Linnett’s
complaints, without once uttering her own opinion. Lottie,
Linnett’s previous maid, would have had no such reticence.

If Patsy
thought privately that Linnett was an extremely spoilt young woman,
she would never dream of putting that thought into words. She had
by now told Linnett of her own sad past. Of how she came to be on
board the ship as a ship’s cabin boy. To Linnett, the tale was a
terrible one, but she could not truly relate to the hardships that
Patsy had faced. Her own world had been so far removed from the
fear and deprivation that Patsy had suffered.

Patsy had been
born in the area of Battersea, a small village outside London. Her
father had died when she was three, and her mother decided to take
in washing for local folk. They lived contentedly enough, until
their local undertaker, who had frequently used her mother’s
laundry services over the years, was widowed. After a very short
period of mourning, he began to court Patsy’s mother, Rose, still
an attractive woman of twenty-nine. They were married, and Rose and
her daughter moved in with the undertaker, Jonas Briggs.

Patsy hated his
house and workshop, which was always full of coffins and, of
course, bodies. The smell of the embalming fluids that Jonas used
permeated every nook and cranny of the establishment. When Patsy
was twelve, Jonas said she could earn her keep and help him in his
trade. She was horrified and argued with her step-father and her
mother, who naturally took her husband’s part. The outcome of this
family argument was that Jonas decided to take her down to the
workshop for a thrashing, but instead of the expected beating,
Jonas had raped Patsy. Upstairs, her mother, hearing screams from
what she thought of as her ungrateful daughter, ignored poor
Patsy’s cries and pleas for help. The following day, Patsy had
tried to tell her mother what Jonas had done, but her mother, not
wishing to believe such a dreadful thing, had slapped her
daughter’s face and screamed at her to get out.

Jonas had come
up to see what the commotion was about, and when confronted, he
denied all, accusing Patsy of being evil and of lying just so that
she would not have to work. He took Patsy downstairs for yet
another promised thrashing, but again he raped her, laughing and
jeering at her attempt to tell her mother the truth. He even
insisted he had the right to use her whenever he wished; after all,
he told her, she should be grateful that he had provided for her
and her mother. Unable to contemplate a future of continual rape,
Patsy had run away.

She had found
an empty cart and the driver, having that day sold his goods at the
London market, was willing to allow her to ride in the back of the
empty wagon. She travelled from cart to cart until she reached the
coast. Patsy had a vague idea that she could get work in a tavern.
With this in mind, she had turned herself into a boy and thus Pat
was born, with the help of clothes stolen at the sea shore, from a
lad who splashed naked in the surf with his friends.

That night, she
had trawled the sea front taverns, asking for work. When a burly
sailor and his mate overheard her talking to the innkeeper, they
had grabbed hold of her arm and told her they knew of a tavern that
needed a likely lad just such a one as he. Hauling Pat along
between them, they plied her with rum until she could no longer
stand, then took her aboard their ship, flinging her into a hold
with some other poor wretches they had unwittingly press-ganged
that night. When Pat had come to, they were far out at sea. She
then discovered that she was to be the new cabin boy on The
Tempest, and here she had remained, her secret successfully hidden
beneath the layers of dirt and ragged clothing.

Duncan Snow was
devastated by guilt when John recounted the tale told to him via
Linnett. Duncan had gone to see Patsy and tried to make his
apologies, but Patsy would have none of it. As far as she was
concerned, Duncan had always treated her fairly, and well and above
all, he had saved her life.

Life aboard The
Tempest settled back down again. Linnett started to notice that
Patsy would often disappear at odd times during the day. One
evening after dinner, when she and John were returning to their
cabin, Linnett remembered that Patsy had taken her nightgown to sew
it, since it had been missing several buttons all due to John’s
rather impatient lovemaking. She tapped at Patsy’s cabin door and,
receiving no reply, turned the door knob. The door was unlocked,
and Linnett saw straight away upon entering the tiny cabin that it
was empty.

John, who had
continued along to their own cabin, wondered why his wife had not
yet joined him and went back to look for her. Linnett was just
closing Patsy’s cabin door. She held a lighted lantern in her hand.
“Patsy is not in her room,” she told John. “I am going to look for
her, I won’t be very long.”

She turned away
from him but was hauled back. John took the lantern from her. “No,”
he told her shaking his head, “you are certainly not wondering
around the ship alone and most certainly not at night. I have told
you before it’s not safe, Linnett. Patsy will be fine. She has
spent the last three and a half years aboard ship, and she will
know where she is anywhere on board The Tempest. Have no fear, she
will be safe. Now come to bed.” John kept a firm grip on Linnett’s
arm as he towed her towards their room.

“No, John! Come
with me, then. We can search together,” Linnet said, thinking this
an admirable solution. She was not pleased, however, when John,
undeterred, curtly refused. On reaching their room, John deposited
the lantern on the table and mindful of his wife’s wilful nature,
locked the door and dropped the key into his pocket. Linnett
whirled furiously to face him, her green eyes flashing. John
groaned; he knew the signs of one of his wife’s temper
tantrums.

“You do not
even care!” Linnett spluttered. “That poor Patsy could be lying
hurt somewhere alone out in the dark! With all these rough men on
board, just think of what could happen to her! She has turned out
to be a pretty little thing, anything could happen! We must go and
look for her, John, surely you must see that!”

John took off
his jacket and waistcoat, keeping his eye on Linnett as he did so.
With an outwardly cool demeanour that belied his inner fear that
Linnett was about to have a full-blown tantrum, he answered her
with composure. Perhaps simple reason would divert her temper.

“My dear, I
repeat: Patsy will be fine! You forget, Linnett, that up until a
few days ago, she was the ship’s cabin boy. Now stop your fussing
and get ready for bed.”

Linnett was
seething; she had become used to John doting on her. And she had
been used to her own way all of her life. Provoked and angry she
was not about to give in over this. She was genuinely concerned for
Patsy. Linnett stalked over to the door and tried to open it, when
it wouldn’t open she spun round and stamping her foot, held out her
hand for the key. “Give me that key, John, now, at once!” she
demanded.

John’s eyes
narrowed. He had been so pleased with his lovely wife, besotted as
he was with her delightful wiles and ways. It was, after all, their
honeymoon, a time he felt that should be spent in cementing their
relationship, time to get to know and trust one another. John
really did not want this confrontation tonight; however, he
realised that he could not go on allowing Linnett to keep defying
him this way. She was just too damn wilful. He had hoped that his
dominance over her body in the marriage bed would be enough to calm
and subdue her defiance. Linnett must learn to become properly
submissive towards him. How else was he supposed to keep her safe
in the Colonies if she would not heed her husband?

“Linnett, do
not force me to take you in hand again. Now, be a good girl, and
prepare for bed.”

Linnet didn’t
move; she knew that John was angry, but she was mutinously
determined to win this battle. She was righteous and she had
justice on her side. Husband and wife stood across the room from
each other eyes locked, two narrowed, implacable and steely grey,
the other two flashing green and haughty, each awaiting the other’s
move.

John was by now
livid, he drew himself up and pointed to the bed. “So be it!
Linnett remove your draws and lay face down across the bed and if
you comply willingly I will simply spank you with my hand but defy
me over this and I shall use your hairbrush. I promise that will be
the worse for you.”

Linnett was
astounded, this was no spanking matter! She was simply concerned
for a young woman in her charge. “Surely you cannot be serious,
John? Why can’t you understand that I am concerned for the
girl?”

John frowned,
looking thoroughly foreboding. “Linnett, what did you promise me on
your wedding day?”

“John!” Linnett
stamped her foot.

John, by this
time, was implacable. “ANSWER ME, WIFE! WHAT DID YOU PROMISE WHEN
MAKING YOUR WEDDING VOWS TO ME!”

“This is
ridiculous, John!” Linnett stamped her foot once again, a mistake,
because that small act of temper was enough to tip John’s patience
over the edge.

With the speed
and agility of a cat, John pounced to where Linnett stood and swung
her up under one arm. He reached out and grabbed Linnett’s flat
silver hairbrush from the chest and sat down on the bed, dumping
his argumentative wife across one knee while pinioning her legs
with his other. He grasped her flailing hand and swept up her
skirts. Linnett was wild with righteous fury and fought him tooth
and nail.

The outcome was
inevitable. She was no match for her muscular and much larger
husband, and to her chagrin, he wrenched down her draws, delivering
the first of many painful swots with the paddle-shaped hair brush.
This time, however, Linnett was not afraid of her husband. They had
spent time getting to know one another, and Linnett was livid with
him for reverting to the vile man she knew before they were
married.

She struggled
and tried to bite John, swearing with words she’d learned from
listening to the sailors. John, incensed by his pretty young wife’s
foul tongue, spanked her ever faster and harder until the swearing
was replaced by her sobs and pleas for mercy. John grinned wickedly
and told her, “After hearing your foul mouth, darlin’, I think this
punishment will be going on for quite a bit longer, and the more
you beg, the harder I shall spank, so quiet down and take your
medicine like a good obedient wife should, for I am determined that
you will learn to do my bidding without arguing or questioning me.
Do you understand me, Mrs. Foster?”

Linnett was
having a hard time understanding anything other than the relentless
stinging and heating up of her poor, naked bottom. She squirmed
sideways, attempting to avoid the slaps and swipes as they
continued to rain all over her posterior and the tops of her
thighs. The pain was far worse than the previous hand spankings
John had administered, and she was regretting pushing him to this.
Oh, why could she not learn to control her temper around her
husband! By this point, Linnett would agree to anything to make him
stop, so she promised him everything she could think of.

“I am sorry,
John, so...o...o, so...o...o sorry! Stop! Please stop! John
no....ouch! No, John... Oww! Noooo!”

Linnett sobbed,
her face awash with tears, her nose running. John was angry, very
angry, and not about to let his wife off easily. This time she
would learn her lesson.

He shifted her
higher across his knee and bought the hairbrush down even more
vigorously. Linnett pulled helplessly at the quilt on the bed, but
John had her in an iron grip and all she could do was bury her head
into the quilt, sob and suffer her punishment. At last, John flung
the hair brush aside and hauled Linnett to her feet. He spun her
around and undid her skirt, pulling it down to the floor where her
drawers were already puddled around her feet. “Step out of your
clothes,” he ordered.

Linnett did as
she was bid and reached behind her to rub her painful and swollen
buttocks, whereupon John slapped her hands away. “No! I want you to
remember this lesson! If I see you rub yourself even once I will
spank you again just as hard and just as long. Now stand and face
the bed, that’s right. Now bend over the bed and spread your
legs.”

John placed his
hand in the middle of Linnett’s back, and, bent her at the waist,
he pushed her legs farther apart and stepped back admiring his
handiwork. He placed his hands on her burning buttocks and squeezed
them, feeling the molten heat that radiated off her skin. “You will
stay here, not moving or speaking, until I tell you otherwise, is
that understood?”

Linnett
mumbled, her head resting on her arms, which were wet from her
tears. John slapped her bare bottom sharply twice in quick
succession and shouted, “Answer me, Linnett!”

Linnett jumped
with the sudden slaps to her now tender bottom, and tears trickled
down her cheek.

“Yes,” she
whispered, and another hard smack followed.

“Answer
properly this time with a... yes, sir!” John commanded.

Linnett bit her
lip and she stiffened with anger, but another stinging slap on her
rump had her singing out, “YES, SIR!” loud and clear. A smile
twisted the corner of John’s mouth, and he felt that finally, he
was getting somewhere with her.