By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com
Copyright 2023 by Governess, all rights reserved
* * * * *Chapter 58
She set her cup of tea down on her desk
and took out a sheet of paper and proceeded to make notes of the
outstanding things she needed either to check or do over the next few
days.
LIST
Oversee William’s move to
Diana’s class
Make sure he uses the chamber pot for the next two weeks
Hang the martinet in Samuel’s room
Remind the Principal of the need to see Hammond
Check the medicine register
Write up the children’s punishment books
Discuss with Diana whether to introduce confession time for the
children.
That, she thought, would suffice for the moment. It had been
a long day but deeply rewarding. She spent a good hour reading her
Bible and praying, before going up to bed. On the way, she listened at
Samuel’s door. Opening it gently, she could hear his regular
breathing. Clearly, he was fast asleep. The upper landing lights were
dim and were unlikely to disturb him. She opened the door wider and
looked in. He was lying face down on the bed with the sheets pulled
back exposing his bottom and thighs to the cool bedroom air. She
smiled. There was something touching and delightful about it. She
nodded and then made her way to her own bedroom. Soon her bedside lamp
was extinguished and she was asleep.
She dreamt that she was walking through a strange yet familiar house
but where exactly she was unable to say. Far away she heard the sound
of a child sobbing. She passed through room after room, and as she did
so the sobbing became steadily louder. At last, she reached a rather
forbidding door and behind it she knew the child would be found. She
turned the handle slowly as if fearing to announce her arrival, and as
the door opened, she found a small girl standing face to the wall,
wearing a man’s shirt turned up over her slim shoulders
exposing her bottom to view. A shiver went through her. Slowly the girl
turned her head and looked at her. And the face was both that of her
mother and the face that she herself saw in the mirror each day. She
burst into tears.
. . . . . . . . . . .
The following morning, she woke a six o’clock before the
alarm sounded and looked out of the window. It was a bright sunny day.
It must have been raining in the early hours for the window panes were
gleaming with small droplets that shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
And suddenly, inexplicably, that glistening window transported her back
to another morning in another bedroom after her move to England. Her
mother had married an Englishman whose father was French with a mother
from Northumberland. They had remained to France after their marriage
and there all three children were born and it was only after her
husband’s death that she was persuaded to move to
Northumberland to be near her mother-in-law, Eve. And it was soon after
that, that Cordelia’s aunt, Nina, her father’s
sister, on a visit from France, married the village doctor. Cordelia
soon came to grow very fond of Aunt Nina whose husband practised from a
large house near to Wainwright Cottage where the Réglat family
had settled.
Next to Wainwright Cottage lived Mrs Atkinson who had two small boys,
Edward who was then aged four, and Anthony who was six. Their cottage
was called Birchington. Later Cordelia would smile when she thought how
appropriate the name was, given Mrs Atkinson commitment to corporal
punishment, which was at least equal to that of her own mother. Given
the proximity of the two cottages, Cordelia soon became friends with
the two boys and the three often played together. Alice Atkinson was a
country woman who had been brought up with livestock, and the idea that
animals could be cossetted and petted was anathema to her. She was used
to taking the crop to a horse, a leather whip to an errant dog, and
slitting a pig’s throat in the backyard. And she brought the
same directness of purpose to the discipline of her two boys.
Cordelia remembered the first time she had seen the two boys punished.
They had shown what their mother deemed disrespect and both were caned.
This seemed perfectly natural to Cordelia who frequently saw her own
brothers punished, either with her mother’s hairbrush, or for
more serious matters, beaten with the cane or birch.
However, Cordelia was always a little frightened of Mrs Atkinson. Her
own mother would never spare her one stroke of a deserved chastisement,
and always reduced her to a broken sobbing little girl, with sore and
smarting flesh. Yet somehow, she always understood that her punishment
was to lead her to a place of forgiveness and reconciliation. Her
mother certainly believed that punishment should provide a child with a
fleeting but real experience of Hell. But just as in the dereliction on
the cross, Our Lord tasted Hell to break its power and save us, so for
a child a small taste of that infernal realm was to instil a salutary
fear that delivered from the clutches of sin and opened the path to
righteousness. But Cordelia recognised that it was different with Mrs
Atkinson. Her children certainly encountered the agony of Hell, but not
with any redemptive intention. For her it was the place where, given
their disobedience, they truly belonged. Her punishments had the
character of that final retribution that separated the sheep from the
goats.
The sun went behind a cloud and the raindrops on the window pane ceased
to glisten. The spell was broken. Cordelia shook her head and, after
quickly dressing, proceeded downstairs to her little study. She always
said a brief prayer before the start of the day, and as she gave thanks
for the friendship and support of Diana, she remembered her advice
about William. She looked at the clock. It was twenty past six. The
children would soon be down for breakfast. She went straight to
William’s room, and found that he was still in bed. She
stripped back the bedclothes and startled him out of his slumber.
“Out of bed, William. Quickly now. It will be breakfast in a
few minutes”
He scrambled out and took off his pyjama top and reached for his vest.
“Leave the vest for a moment, William. And down with those
pyjama trousers.”
He hesitated, and then thought better of it. She took him by the hand
and led him naked to the long mirror on the landing. She stood him in
front of it and spun him round.
"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."
He peered over his shoulder.
"M . . . my bottom . . . Mother."
"And what is on your bottom?"
"N . . . nothing, Mother
"You are right, William. It is a small, completely bare bottom. The
sort of bottom that a naughty boy has when he is spanked."
She paused.
"And does it look as though it’s been spanked? Or perhaps
whipped?"
He nodded.
"Y . . . yes, Mother.
"And how can you tell?"
He felt his face becoming hot at her remorseless questioning.
"B . . . Because there're marks, Mother."
"Yes. And if people saw those marks, what would they think? Well? "
"That I'd been naughty."
She shook her head.
"More than that, William. They would say that a boy who had received
such a severe and thorough beating must have committed the most serious
of sins. And they'd be right, wouldn't they?"
He hung his head suffused with shame.
"So, William, what were those sins for which you have been beaten. What
would they see? They’d see the marks of a hairbrush from a
recent spanking and possibly from an earlier spanking, too. And then
those narrow, tramline like weals across both your bottom and your
thighs. I hope you could tell them what each was for. If not, the
message has been forgotten and will need to be beaten in
again.”
She paused and ruffled his hair affectionately.
“So, let’s start with the marks of the hairbrush.
What was that spanking for?”
He hesitated. The threat of further punishment was, he knew, all too
real should he fail to answer correctly.”
“Er . . . for . . . for not doing my Bible reading . .
.”
“Yes, and what was the Bible reading about?”
“Th . . . the days of . . . of creation.”
“Yes, and were you tested on that?”
“Yes.”
“And what happened?”
“I got them wrong and was spanked again.”
“And what about the caning you received. ~What was that for?
“Be. . . because I told a lie.”
“One lie?”
He hung his head and spoke in a low voice.
“No, I told another lie”
“So have you punished for telling two lies”
“Yes. For telling two lies.”
“And how many strokes did you get in all?”
“Th . . . thirty-six, please, Mother.”
“Good. I am pleased you remembered. And I hope you have
learned both to read your Bible story book each morning and, most
importantly, not to tell lies. Now dress and go down for breakfast. And
remember, you are being spoon-fed by me at every meal. So, wait until I
come down. And after breakfast you will sit on the pot for fifteen
minutes.”
Mrs Lavington explained to Elizabeth and Samuel that William was being
treated like a two-year-old, and they were not to comment on it or
tease him, on pain of a spanking.
As a consequence of the extra time taken to feed William, she realised
that an earlier start would be required the next day. As it was, there
was no time for William to sit on the pot.
“I’ll write a note to Mrs Fairclough and explain
that almost certainly you will need the pot during the course of the
morning.”
He blanched. And looked pleadingly at her.
“Please, Mother . . .”
“No argument, William. We’ll be leaving in five
minutes. So, all of you, put on your coats.”
Quickly, Cordelia penned a note to Diana, and handed it to William.
“Give this to Mrs Fairclough as soon as you arrive in her
class. Elizabeth will accompany you.”
. . . . . . .
Diana Fairclough was greatly looking forward to having William in her
class. She had a liking for small boys and appreciated their ways and
their liveliness and enjoyed the challenge of disciplining them. As
soon as William had arrived, he handed her the note.
Dear Diana,
Thank you for support and advice on how best to proceed with
William’s training. We spent some time having a little
conversation looking in the mirror before breakfast, at which, of
course, he is being spoon-fed as a two-year-old. As a consequence,
there was no time for him to go on the pot before school. I suggest you
put him on it during the course of the morning. Give him fifteen
minutes and don't hesitate to use the hairbrush if necessary.
With every good wish, Cordelia
Diana shared with Cordelia a firm belief in the value of
shame as a powerful means of eliminating that cocksure self-confidence
in a boy that inevitably led to precepts being ignored and rules
broken. She had placed an enamel chamber pot at the front of the class
and smiled at the thought of William having to take down his trousers
and pants and lower his bare bottom on to the cold enamel rim before a
class of girls. The shame would probably cause him to tighten up and
make a bowel movement more difficult. She would give him fifteen
minutes, as instructed, and if nothing was forthcoming, spank him. She
was not sure whether any of the girls, apart from Elizabeth, had seen a
boy spanked. Well, that would soon be remedied.
But first, she must welcome William to the class and introduce him to
the girls.
“Good morning, girls.”
“Good morning, Mrs Fairclough.”
“As you see, we have a new member of the class today. His
name is William. William, stand on the bench in front of your desk, so
everyone can see you.”
He reddened, having no wish to be the centre of such attention.
“You may be wondering why we have William joining us. His
mother is our Matron, Mrs Lavington. William has been exceptionally
disobedient, has lied repeatedly to his mother and, when corrected,
threw a tantrum. As a consequence, he was soundly whipped and for the
next week or two he is to be treated like a two-year-old. So, both at
home and in school, he will have to go to the lavatory sitting on a
chamber pot.”
She pointed to the pot at the front of the class, and smiled.
“I expect your girls are wondering how severely William was
whipped. William, drop your trousers and pants and turn round. Let the
girls see how your mother has dealt with such shocking
behaviour”.
Standing on his bench in full view of the class, and with a flaming
face, he provided the girls with, for most of them, the rare sight of a
boy’s seven-year-old bottom. Never had he experienced such a
crushing sense of shame. Elizabeth knew that later her classmates would
be questioning her about William’s punishments and those of
his brother. And worse, almost certainly enquiring about her own
discipline.
“Thank you, William. You may pull up your trousers and sit
down. And we had all better start the day’s work.”
Mrs Fairclough was a diligent and caring teacher. She gave full and
careful explanations and if a girl had still not grasped the point she
was making, that girl was expected to ask for a further guidance. As a
consequence, any girl who got less than 9 out10 in the following test
could expect to be punished. And the same would now apply to William,
the new class member.
After half an hour of working she noticed that Sarah Higgins was trying
to pass a note to the girl next to her, who was sensibly refusing to
accept it.
“Sarah Higgins what do you think you are doing? Bring that
out here.”
She smiled as she read it.
“Well, William, it seems that you have an admirer. I am sure
you would like to share this with the rest of the class,
Sarah.”
She handed the note back.
“Read it out, please. In a nice clear voice so we can all
hear.”
Sarah blushed.
“Do I have to, Mrs Fairclough?”
“Sarah, if I ask you to do something, you do it, unless, you
want your hands strapped. Read it out, please.”
I love William Lavington and I am going to marry him
Again, please in a louder, clearer voice.
I love William Lavington and am going to marry him
“That’s very touching, Sarah. How do you
feel about that William? Do you want to marry Sarah?”
“I . . . I think I’m too young to marry, Mrs
Fairclough.”
Diana smiled.
“Yes. I am sure you are, William. You may sit down, Sarah,
and get on with your work.”
And that reminds me, William. Your mother said there was no time for
you to sit on the pot this morning. You had better do it now.
I’ll give you quarter of an hour to have a bowel movement
after which you’ll be spanked. So, I suggest you make a real
effort.”
Small boys of seven tend not to be very modest. But the enforced
exposure in performing such an intimate act before a class of girls was
deeply humiliating. He knew better than to argue and made his way,
albeit reluctantly to the pot and, taking down his trousers and pants,
lowered himself on to the cold enamel rim. Although the girls had been
told to get on with their work, he felt all eyes on him as he strained
and made every effort to go. He passed some wind and was aware of a few
titters of suppressed laughter. He sat there trying to forget his
dreadful predicament and straining to open his bowels before the
fifteen minutes were up. Hel felt a movement coming and he focussed on
it, willing himself to go. There was the sound of a large stool
depositing itself in the pot. He was panting slightly with the effort
as he looked round.
“Stay sitting there, William. And stop working, girls. Now
hands up anyone who can tell me what’s the first thing you
have do after you’ve been to the lavatory? Alice?”
“Pull up your knickers, Mrs Fairclough.”
“Really, Alice! That’s the first thing you do? I am
surprised. Anyone else? Constance?”
“Please Mrs Fairclough, I’d wipe my bottom
first.”
“Exactly. Don’t you wipe your bottom,
Alice?”
“Yes, Mrs Fairclough.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs Fairclough.”
“Well, just think a bit more before you speak next
time.”
She paused.
“So, William needs his bottom wiping. And as he is to be
treated like a little two-year-old, it will have to be done for
him.”
She smiled.
“And it’s obvious to me who would like the
privilege of doing that. Sarah come out to the front of the
class.”