The Inheritance (21 page)

James rolled
his eyes.

"For goodness
sake, Elizabeth. That's ridiculous," he said, in utter disbelief
that her female mind was filled with such a silly notion. "Why on
earth would you think such a thing? What could he possibly have
said or done to have you arrive at such a foolish conclusion?"

"Well - I - uh
- I know men do those things," she replied, wishing she didn't.

"And exactly
how do you know this?" James asked. If he found out who had put the
idea in her head they would have him to answer to.

"Lydia was
telling me last night how men do those things. I mean, if other men
do it then why wouldn't he? I'm very afraid and, and, and angry
too," she blurted out, dropping her head back into his shoulder.
"I'm all at sixes and sevens."

Lydia! Lydia
and her inability to keep her thoughts to herself. My goodness! She
was to be spanked now for sure!

"Let me make
sure I understand this correctly, Elizabeth," he said softly,
holding her and stroking her hair. "Lydia told you that men keep
one woman and go off to be with another woman at the same time. Is
that what she said?"

Elizabeth
pulled back from his shoulder and wiped her face.

"Not exactly,"
she said, quietly.

"What do you
mean, not exactly?" he frowned.

"She wasn't
talking to me. Please don't be upset with her. She was standing at
the window. It was - it was - oh my goodness," she railed, becoming
emotional again.

"Catch your
breath, Elizabeth," he said, becoming impatient but trying to
remain calm. "Just tell me what she said - exactly."

"All right. I'll explain from the beginning," Elizabeth
replied, taking a deep breath and attempting to compose herself.
"Grace was unpacking and I had said how much I wished Lord Michael
didn't have to leave, how much fun it would be if the four of us
were here together," Elizabeth began. "Then Lydia said she thought
so too - then walked over to the window and stood there a minute,
and I heard her say,
He's doubtless got
another woman tucked away in London. Why would he stay here? He may
not even come back for that matter
."

"What?" James
exclaimed, incredulous. Even with her outspoken habit this was
almost unbelievable. Lydia didn't even know Lord Michael! And even
if she suspected such caddish behaviour, to say such a thing in
front of Elizabeth? About the man to whom his sister was
devoted?

"Yes. That's
what she said. But she didn't really say it. She was kind of -
talking out the window. I'm sure she thought I wouldn't hear or she
wouldn't have said it." Elizabeth finished.

"Right!" said
James firmly, taking her by the shoulders and making her face him.
"First - has Lord Michael said or done anything - anything at all -
to make you think he doesn't love you, or that he would even think
of doing such a caddish thing?"

Elizabeth,
swallowing another hot lump that was threatening to fill her eyes,
shook her head slowly.

"But he has
done things to show you how dear you are to him, has he not? You
don't have to tell me, just think about it. Over the last few days
- in fact, ever since he has been here - consider all he has done.
The big things and the little things," James said, staring at her
intensely, knowing Lord Michael would surely have done a great deal
to ease Elizabeth's concern about his departure, and she would
recall all the ways he had aided in her recovery.

He saw the
flicker of realization cross her face. Her eyes drifted downward
and her shoulders relaxed, then finally she looked back up at
him.

"Oh James,"
she began. "I'm such a foolish, silly girl. How could I have
doubted him? Even for a moment? He has done so many things - so
many wonderful, romantic, loving things. Please don't tell him I
entertained such thoughts! Please," she pleaded. "It would hurt him
and make him very angry I am sure."

James took a
deep breath. Poor, sensitive, sweet Elizabeth. With all she'd had
to endure over the last month she did not need such insecurities
fermenting in her vulnerable little mind. He was furious with
Lydia. He didn't care that her words had been accidentally
overheard. She had to learn to take much more care. She was about
to learn to keep her thoughts to herself and that tongue of hers
under control!

"My dear
sister," he said, kissing her forehead. "Worry not. He will never
know of this. No one will ever know of this. I promise you!" he
exclaimed vehemently. "Lord Michael loves you very much and I know
he will be back here in a month, if not sooner. And I also know
he'll have very good news when he returns. Keep faith in him,
Elizabeth. And if you ever find yourself doubting him you must come
and talk to me immediately."

"James, thank
you," she cried, hugging him again, squeezing him tightly. "I'm so
very glad you're here."

He held her
gently, rocking her back and forth until her sobs of relief
subsided, then pushed her back and wiped her tearstained face with
his thumb.

"Now then, how
about some tea and scones," he suggested, smiling. "Cook made some
blackberry jam yesterday. It's very good."

"I'd love
some," she said, breathing deeply, and sat back while James moved
to the tray.

A little while
later Lydia had just finished arranging her clothes and toiletries
to her liking. Grace had done a nice job but Lydia was particular
and wanted her personal effects in a certain order. She was
considering what she might do next when there was a knock on her
door. She was delighted to see it was James.

"Oh. Hello. I
was just about to come downstairs," she said. "I thought perhaps I
might take a walk through the rose garden and into the wooded area
behind it. Would you care to join me?"

"I most
definitely would," James replied, extending his elbow.

"What about
Elizabeth? Shouldn't we ask her along?" she enquired, thinking it
rude of them to leave her alone in the house.

"I believe my
sister is going to write a letter to Lord Michael then have her
daily ride on Constance. I'm sure we'll see her at luncheon," he
replied.

"Oh! How nice.
That means it will be just the two of us," she sighed, very happy
that they would have some time alone.

He escorted
her down the stairs and through the house to the back entrance that
led to the terrace. It was another lovely day and the staff was
already setting up the terrace table for their midday meal.

They meandered
through the rose bushes then moved into the small wood. The sun was
shining its beams of light through the branches, there were the
calls of birds and the buzzing of bees, and as they ventured
further the canopy of trees thickened above them, cooling the warm
summer air.

"It's so
beautiful," Lydia proclaimed. "I'm so grateful that you brought me
here," she sighed.

James had been
watching for a toppled tree or a large boulder upon which he could
sit, and he spied just what he'd been hoping for. A fallen tree had
been stripped of its branches, its wide smooth trunk lying on its
side. Around it were several long sticks that would make perfect
rods. He had planned a very firm hand spanking but they would be in
easy reach should he deem it necessary.

"Come and sit
with me and rest a while," he said, charmingly, settling himself on
the trunk.

"Very well,"
Lydia replied, joining him, thinking it the perfect location for a
warm, tender kiss.

"I understand
you and Elizabeth had quite a chat last night while Grace was
unpacking," he said casually.

"Yes.
Elizabeth is very nice. You were right. She's not at all like some
of the society girls I've known," she replied, waiting for him to
take her face in his soft smooth hands and press his lips to
hers.

"You know," he
began, "Elizabeth is a very vulnerable, very sensitive young woman.
As I explained in the carriage on our journey here, she's had a
difficult year; first losing her mother and just this past month
her dearest uncle."

"She seems to
be handling it all very well," Lydia commented, wondering why he
was talking about Elizabeth and her trials, instead focusing on
this most romantic moment.

"Of course
Lord Michael is responsible for the fact that she is coping so
well. He is the salt of the earth. A true friend to me, and
Elizabeth loves him with all her heart," he continued, shifting his
gaze from the surroundings and letting it fall directly upon
her.

Lydia felt a
little tickle - a twinge - a cool feeling - wash over her.
Something wasn't quite right.

"Yes. He does
seem like a very nice chap," she replied quietly, attempting to
interpret James' unwavering gaze.

"Because she's
so vulnerable, and because she loves him so very much, and because
he has been her salvation, it's very difficult for her to see him
leave, even if it's just for a little while," he continued,
reaching down and taking her hand.

"I'm sure,"
Lydia replied, recalling Elizabeth's emotional, angry state as she
had marched into the house that morning.

"Lydia," James
said gravely, "I have had occasion to scold you for speaking
impulsively. Have I not?"

"Yes," she
answered, her voice unexpectedly small. Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.

"Apparently
being too outspoken is not your only misfortune. Apparently you are
also insensitive to those around you, and say things - harmful
things - that can be overheard."

She knew. She
knew immediately. Her utterance at the window. Elizabeth had
overheard and...

Oh no!

"James," she
said hastily, "I was talking to myself. I was just thinking out
loud. Oh dear! Oh dear!" she exclaimed. "You must believe me! I
didn't mean to upset her - or anyone. I'm so dreadfully sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't
make it better or make it go away," he said grimly. "I have managed
to appease and reassure her but you must never speak your thoughts
in the company of others no matter how quietly you believe you are
doing so," he said sternly.

"I won't. I
won't. I won't ever do it again," she blurted. "I promise James.
Really - I am dreadfully sorry."

"I'm afraid I
have to spank you, Lydia," he said simply. Then sat silent,
allowing his decree to register.

She stared at
him in disbelief, the funny flip in her stomach making her free
hand jump to her belly.

"I - uh - I
mean - you don't have to do that, James. I really do understand and
I promise it will never, ever happen again," she squeaked.

"I most
certainly do," he stated emphatically. "I have scolded you
repeatedly and you have chosen not to listen. Not to heed my words.
And look what happened. Your lack of self-control, your inability
to hold your tongue has hurt my sister. You've had enough warnings.
It's time to take you in hand."

"But
James—"

"But nothing,"
he said, and jerking her abruptly, yanked her across his lap.

"Oh James,"
she cried, kicking and squealing. "No! Please. I will be careful -
I promise. I won't think out loud ever again!"

"I'm sure you
believe that," he said, holding her firmly and pulling up the folds
of her dress, "but I will make sure of it. From now on every time
you speak out of turn your bottom will be soundly smacked. Each
time harder than the last. At some point you'll learn your lesson,"
he said brusquely.

She wiggled
furiously as he crushed the fabric into the space between her hips
and his body, pushing it down and out of the way.

"Be still or I
shall thrash you with a wooden rod from the ground," he
threatened.

She
immediately stopped her squirming, but her breathing continued in
ragged gasps. Running his hand over her cotton drawers he
considered removing them altogether or opening them at the slit,
but decided to keep such actions as an ongoing threat. Raising his
hand he slapped down hard.

"Ooooh!" she
cried. "Oh James, that stings!"

"It's supposed
to," he said tersely. "That's the point." And raising his hand
again slapped her opposite cheek.

"Oh that's
enough," she wailed. "Please."

"Enough!" he
exclaimed. "Enough? Not even close. I am going to spank you twelve
times on each cheek, very hard," he announced.

He had not
planned such a precise spanking but the thought had unexpectedly
popped into his brain. He had learned when such ideas spontaneously
came to him they generally worked out for the best.

"Twelve?" she
squeaked, her voice quivering.

"Yes. Twelve,"
he replied. Then added, as another stroke of inspiration hit him,
"And you shall count them out. Let your tongue remind you of its
guilt and its consequences."

"Oh James,"
she cried, but then yelped as his hand landed on each cheek a
second time in rapid fire.

"Count," he
barked, "or I shall start anew."

"Two!" she
howled.

So it went on.
Each set of two slaps were firmly applied and she would wail out
the number. Then he would pause, drawing out the punishment,
allowing the sting of each set to permeate her bottom. By the time
he was about to deliver the last two blows Lydia was almost in
tears.

"Now then,
Lydia. Should you speak out of turn or say aloud your thoughts, or
cause any further displeasure to my sister or anyone else here, I
shall repeat this spanking but it will be on your bare bottom," he
threatened. "And after your twelve smacks you shall receive twelve
more, with a riding crop or perhaps my shoe, or a large wooden
spoon from the kitchen which I shall send you to fetch. Whatever
takes my fancy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, James,"
she sobbed.

"These last
two will be harder than the rest. After the first you will say the
following; Thank you Sir, for correcting me and punishing me for
speaking out of turn."