by India Heath
Boston, 1870.
"Elizabeth? Elizabeth Jane Mayfield, you answer me right now, young lady, or I swear I'll take my hairbrush to your behind."
Libby sighed and stood up from the rug in front of the drawing room fire. She wasn't really hiding... more avoiding her mother. Chester, her mother's toy poodle, opened one lazy eye to see why he was no longer being stroked. "Sorry boy." She smiled softly, revealing straight white teeth. "But your mistress beckons me."
"Elizabeth, where are you?"
Her mother's tone was growing ever more impatient and Libby rushed out into the grand hallway before she really did earn herself a spanking. "I'm here, Mother."
The elegant Grace Mayfield descended the wide sweeping staircase, her turbulent expression at odds with her serene posture. "For goodness sake, look at you," she announced as her eyes critically took in Libby's grey woollen dress. "Doctor Kenton will be here in ten minutes and you look like a servant girl. Why aren't you wearing your blue velvet dress? I had Emily lay it out for you this morning."
After her morning bath, Libby had seen the heavy blue gown laid on the bed but had ignored it in favour of a soft woollen one. "This one is more comfortable," she replied honestly.
Grace Mayfield, even in her mid forties, was still an attractive woman. She had good bone structure, bright cornflower blue eyes and natural elegance. Unfortunately disapproval was now marring her beauty. "Comfortable?" her mother all but spat. "A lady never secured a marriage proposal by being comfortable. Now go upstairs and change at once." Libby shuddered at the very idea of being married to Doctor Arthur Kenton. Grace's frown melted into an encouraging smile. "I do believe he intends to pop the question this afternoon." Her frown returned. "But not if you are dressed like some scruffy little ragamuffin. And for heaven's sake, do something with your hair."
Self consciously, Libby twirled a strand of long blonde hair around her finger. She had inherited her mother's beauty but remained sweetly oblivious to it. "Mother, I'm not going to marry Doctor Kenton. I have told you this already. So whatever I'm wearing or whether or not he proposes, really doesn't matter."
Angry colour suffused Grace's high cheekbones. "And I have told you, young lady, that you'll do as I tell you and accept the good Doctor's proposal. The man is rich and a prominent member of Boston's high society. You will not get a better offer."
"But he's over fifty years old and he smells of tobacco and moth balls."
Grace shrugged. "His age is of little consequence. What is important is his ability to keep this household financially secure. You know how we are fixed since your father died. There is barely enough money left to pay the staff. If you do not marry well, we will be destitute before the year's end. Doctor Kenton comes from a premier family, he is a perfect catch."
Libby felt a twinge of guilt. It was true, she did know how much her mother was relying on a good match to replenish the family coffers. Her father's sudden death a year ago had exposed crippling gambling debts that had stripped them of all assets in order to pay back. So far Grace had managed to conceal the extent of their downfall but it would not be long before the cracks appeared. Once they did, Libby's chances of marrying well would be greatly reduced. But as much as Libby wanted to ease her mother's burden, marrying Arthur Kenton was out of the question.
"I could perhaps get a job?" Libby offered.
Grace laughed bitterly. "Doing what, pray tell? Your only skills are as a hostess and future wife. And even if you could cook or sew, do you really think I would allow my daughter to demean herself by working?"
Libby bit her lip to prevent a retort from spilling out. It seemed her mother was against honest toil but not beyond selling her only daughter to the highest bidder.
"Now stop standing there arguing with me and go and get ready for the Doctor."
"Mother, I-"
"Elizabeth, do not thwart me on this. You will regret it. When you are looking presentable you will find us in the parlour having afternoon tea."
Libby's slim shoulders visibly slumped as she entered her bedroom and stared at the sumptuous velvet gown. It was one of the last dresses she had bought before her father had passed away from heart failure so unexpectedly. How quickly life had changed. Suddenly there were no more shopping trips or holidays by the coast. No more lavish parties or dining in fine restaurants. Grace had disguised her withdrawal from society life with the excuse of mourning the loss of her dear husband. But that ruse would only last so long and desperation was now making her mother ruthless.
Emily entered the room and offered Libby a small curtsy. "Mrs Mayfield sent me up to help you get changed, Miss. Doctor Kenton has just arrived so your mother requests that you hurry."
Libby nodded, accepting the maid's help. She would wear the blue dress and even put her hair up. She would go and have afternoon tea, exchanging polite conversation, but she would not agree to marry a man old enough to be her father, and there was an end to it.
"Elizabeth Jane Mayfield, you are in big trouble, my girl. How dare you defy me by turning down the Doctor's offer of marriage?"
Libby was sat in her room watching her mother explode with fury. As expected, Doctor Kenton had indeed proposed to Libby. She had smiled politely and thanked the Doctor for his gracious offer but sadly declined as, at just turned nineteen, she wasn't ready to settle down yet. Grace's jaw had dropped in horror as Libby had then beaten a hasty retreat. Now her mother stood before her, hairbrush in hand and looking enraged.
"I have told the Doctor that you are feeling unwell and not yourself today. He is returning tomorrow afternoon with the assurance that you will be fully recovered by then and only too happy to accept his proposal."
Libby lifted her dainty chin in stubborn defiance. "Then he will be disappointed, Mother. For I shall turn him down again. I will not marry an old man with gout."
"You will marry him," Grace swore in lethal quietness, "even if I have to spank you raw in order to make you agree."
Libby's blue eyes fell upon the heavy brush her mother stood tapping menacingly against her skirts. Seldom had she ever been beaten but instinct told her that the smooth cherry wood could leave her feeling very sore indeed. Even so, she would not be forced into marrying a man that made her shudder whenever he got too close.
"Do what you will, Mother. But it will not change my mind."
Grace clenched her jaw. "We shall see," she threatened. "Get up and remove your petticoat and bloomers."
Libby slowly rose from the bed. Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the heavy blue velvet and untied the ribbon of her petticoat. The white cotton pooled around her feet and, gracefully, Libby stepped out. Her eyes became beseeching as she then searched for the button of her drawers but there was no mercy in her mother's blue gaze. Slowly, Libby released the fastening and the undergarment slid down around her calves.
"Take them right off," Grace snapped, stacking pillows at the foot of the bed. "Then put yourself here, over the bed." She stood waiting as Libby did as she was told, stepping out of her bloomers and bending over the pillows so that her bottom was high and her feet barely touched the floor. Grace then moved forward and lifted the velvet, arranging it around Libby's waist and leaving her pale behind and the tops of her legs completely bare. "We don't have to do this, Elizabeth," Grace announced as she looked at her daughters offered posterior. "All you have to do is agree to the marriage and this will be settled."
Libby felt her fingers grip the silk coverlet. "I can't agree, Mother. I'm sorry but I won't marry him."
Grace stepped closer and laid a firm hand on Libby's back. "Very well. We shall do it the hard way. Keep your legs straight and push out your bottom."
Libby locked her knees and closed her eyes as her mother brought the brush down hard upon her right cheek. A hot, searing burst of pain exploded as her buttock wobbled under the impact. Libby hissed in agony and then yelped as an identical flame scalded her left cheek. Before she could even catch her breath, the brush landed again across the centre of her backside. Three livid ovals decorated her bare bottom.
"Do you still insist on being stubborn?" her mother asked.
"I won't ever marry Doctor Kenton," Libby stated as tears pricked her eyes.
"Foolish girl," Grace muttered, raising her arm and slamming the brush down once more. "You will in the end."
Libby felt her whole body jerk as her mother let loose with a volley of heavy whaps that covered the entire surface of her vulnerable nether cheeks, turning them from pink to crimson. She tried to be brave and accept her punishment but the agony rapidly built to an unbearable level. Very soon she was sobbing loudly and kicking her legs in desperation.
"Please Mother, stop."
"Agree to do your duty, Elizabeth and I will."
Another swat landed and Libby shrieked in pain. "He's an old man, Mother. Older than Daddy was. Ow! Please understand I - argh - I can't marry him." Fat tears rolled down Libby's cheeks and soaked into the pale green bedspread. Her whole bottom was on fire yet still the spanking continued. A particularly hard swat caught the lower swell of her cheek, causing the skin to turn white for a second before a bruise would later form.
Libby tried to rise and escape the punishing brush but Grace only pushed her harder into the mattress and landed several slaps to her tender upper thighs. "Do not move," she instructed coldly.
"But it hurts," Libby cried plaintively. "Mother, please stop." Libby knew the servants could probably hear her protests and the thought of the entire household knowing she was having her bottom spanked added greatly to her distress. Her feet danced on the rug to try and dispel the blaze in her rear. She could hear her mother's breathing becoming laboured with exertion and prayed her arm would tire swiftly.
Another dozen blows landed before Grace finally conceded defeat. She dropped the brush and stepped back from Libby's swollen rear, holding her chest. "You will be the death of me, child," she gasped. "Indeed, your selfish attitude will be the ruin of us all."
Libby remained slumped over the bed, sobbing her heart out and in too much pain to move. "I'm sorry," she wept and she truly was but it didn't alter her stance. She would never marry the Doctor.
"Go stand in the corner," Grace ordered. "We are not finished here, young lady."
Libby carefully pushed herself upright and hissed as the fabric of her dress brushed past her swollen bottom. Stiffly she made her way to the nearest corner of her room, to plant her small nose in the corner and wait. Stubborn pride encouraged her to straighten her spine and stand firm. She heard Grace mutter beneath her breath and then the door slammed and Libby knew she was alone.
She crumpled to the floor and wept piteously. Her poor behind was throbbing and her mind was full of resentment. It was unfair of her mother to put pressure on such an unsuitable match. Why should she be expected to sacrifice herself for everyone else's sake? Yes, she had enjoyed a privileged upbringing but she would rather live in the gutter from now on than have to tie herself to an old man.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.