Chapter Text
Prologue Letter
My Darling Henry,
I have managed to hide away more spare bits of parchment and a small charcoal stick so I may write to you. As it was in our beginning, perhaps our souls may be joined once again through the written word. Our letters have found each other through impossible circumstances before, so I will not let go of my hope.
Until I can escape, and find a way home to you again, I will keep all my secrets and memories with you. I will not let any amount of time separating us take them away. I say all of this to you now, and will continue to say it as much as I can. The thoughts alone help me keep finding the will to move through the minutes and hours.
The things in this place and time are familiar, if rather rough for living. There are beds, but they are made of sackcloth and stuffed with straw. There are washstands, but everything from the basin to the jugs are cracked clay. There are people, but their movement through this world is a dance to which I do not know the steps. Last night, I stumbled terribly, and more than one person suffered…
You recall me telling you I was a late child? I was an unexpected blessing, born to my parents less than a year after they married. My father was over fifty, had no other living children, and it was his third marriage. He had sought a kind, gentle lady to look after him in his retirement, and my mother, in her late thirties and never before married, considered him a much better prospect than spinsterhood.
It’s quite reasonable to assume an only daughter, born in such circumstances, would be doted upon and indulged at every turn. I suppose that’s at least partly true. My parents were fortunate to have the time and resources to keep our small family close and loving. Quite literally, they could afford to be patient with me.
I have no memory of either my mother or father ever using any corporal punishment on me. I remember stories of the cane from acquaintances who attended schools in the city, but the tutors hired to come to our estate in the country were instructed to leave all disciplinary measures to my mother. As such, I had never gotten more than a thorough, articulate scolding, and perhaps confinement to my room for a day or two.
Where I am now, no one thinks twice about the infliction of pain on those under their authority. The only consideration is what measures of justice and mercy shall be doled out. The Laird of the castle does not seem the merciful type, and his silent, ever-watchful bodyman, Balloch, has no hesitation over carrying out his orders.
My failed attempt at escape from this place resulted not in the Laird punishing me, but his son in my place. Brian Fraser, I pray I get to tell you of him in person soon, suffered a horrible thrashing to spare me from one. His efforts were not entirely in vain, but I doubt he expected what would happen to me after I was brought back to the servant’s quarters by the housekeeper, whom I now know to be his mother!
………………….
Right before she was hustled out of the castle kitchen by Mistress Porter, Julia caught what Brian had said.
“Don’t worry, Ma, ‘tis only a few lashes.”
Julia had her suspicions from the moment she looked them both in the face, but now they were confirmed. Brian Fraser, the Laird’s son out of wedlock, was the child of Davina Porter, his housekeeper.
Because of Julia’s own actions, it would be reasonable she would wish to see the young, errant maid suffer! Back in the servants’ quarters upstairs, Mistress Porter made it clear Julia would not escape her own retribution, regardless of her son’s good intent!
“Ye escaped a thrashing from Balloch,” she said, turning from the door after shutting it tight and hooking the latch into place. “But as a housemaid here, ye still answer to me.”
Moving in deliberate, straight lines, Davina marched from the door to the cabinet against the far wall. She retrieved an item from the top shelf inside, and with a swish of heavy skirts, she rounded on Julia and made a gesture with the item for her to step forward. When the young woman got a clear look at what the housekeeper was holding, her stomach dropped to her knees as she froze in place.
“Why would you even have that!?” She blurted, and felt her face go hot with embarrassment at the overwhelmingly stupid question.
It was a bound bundle of birch branches, a half-dozen of them. They were carefully trimmed and sized to uniformity, and secured with thin, leather straps wrapped tight around a third of their length. The other ends were fanned out just enough for each individual switch to make contact when laid across the poor soul’s bottom it was intended for.
Julia did not have to ask who that would be. Her first question was silly and obvious enough!
“I have it for times such as this, of course!” Davina said, impatience sharpening her tone until each word was like a poke of her slender finger in Julia’s face. “I’ve told ye plain enough already, I will not tolerate any impertinence or disobedience. Would ye expect to act so reckless and defiant, and face no reckoning for it?”
“I would have faced punishment enough,” Julia argued, not at all sure of the wisdom in doing so, but finding herself unable to stop. “But he tried to stop me before Balloch could hunt me down. I did not ask for Brian to take the blame and claim he was helping me run away!”
“Aye, well, we will say no more about Brian,” Davina sighed. “He gets himself involved in things whether he should or not.”
Julia watched the housekeeper’s shoulders drop just a little, though her determined stance remained. “So you intend revenge upon me, on his behalf?”
“No!” Davina sounded indignant, but then rolled her eyes and took a step forward. “He’s made his own bed, but I have a matter of my own to settle with ye, lass. And it’s no doubt for yer own good!”
She made another gesture with the birch bundle for Julia to come to her, this time aiming it toward the narrow cot beside her. Julia eyed her warily, and took a step forward, though it veered just slightly to the side.
“I gave ye warning enough,” Davina began. “It’s unwise to draw any attention from the Laird, and ye’ve certainly done that now! His pride will be injured over a servant attempting to run off.”
“So I’ve been told already,” Julia said, but decided not to bring up Brian and his attempt at kindness to her again.
“And yet, yer still foolish enough to try to run to God-knows where!” Davina continued, with a small crack in her voice that sounded almost like fear. “Ye’ve made yerself all the more tempting a target for Lord Lovat.”
She had, there was no arguing the point. Davina Porter had told her within her first hour at Castle Leathers how much better off she would be if she avoided the Laird as much as possible. Julia had not missed the glint in Lord Lovat’s eyes the moment he proclaimed she should be thrashed for her disobedience. He was anticipating quite the spectacle…
That he had shown any forbearance at all was not a comforting notion. Mistress Porter did not have to explain that he was playing with his food, saving it to savor another time. Julia was a novelty to him now, and the housekeeper intended to wield what power she had to impress a lesson upon her she’d already failed once!
“Twenty swats with the birch from me should be a better reminder than just my words, but far more merciful than any ye’d get from Balloch,” Davina said, not bothering to prolong the inevitable. “Now, lift yer skirts and lay across the bed.”
Was this any more ridiculous than Julia being here in the first place? It was only a tightening of the trap. Any further protest or raucous objection might draw the Laird’s attention once again, and forever mark her as a difficult servant. With Mistress Porter having more power over her than she first reckoned, Julia felt a strange sense of dropping back into herself from the more objective, floating awareness she’d had since coming upstairs.
She took one step forward, then froze again. Davina shook her head and clicked her tongue, a flinty snap of annoyance. She snatched the pillow from the head of the cot beside her and laid it across the center of the hay and burlap mattress.
“I willna say it again, lass, get over the bed. Bare arse up, and no further mischief.”
Julia felt her face grow so hot, she feared she must have an entire red aura pulsing around her head! With shaky hands, it took several tries to grasp every layer of wool and linen petticoats and try to raise them up. No one would know her secret if she kept her head about her, but still, she balked a bit at laying her weight completely upon her belly. It went against every instinct she had to lay heavily upon her womb with someone, however tiny, occupying it.
In the end, grasping the pillow while balancing her weight on her elbows and lifting her hips higher only further exposed her bare bottom, which satisfied the housekeeper’s purposes. Her stockings were beginning to droop around her knees, furthering her shameful sense of exposure. When Davina laid the bundle of switches across her flesh, it covered an area from the high curve of her bum to the very top of her thighs. A nervous shiver rattled Julia’s legs at the initial touch.
“Ye’ll be far less sore taking this from me than any alternative,” Davina said, sounding quite ready to commence with things. “But, I pray it will be enough.”
“Yes, Mistress Porter,” Julia managed to squeak, having no trouble playing the required part of regretful servant. “I promise, no more trouble.”
“Alright, then,” Davina said, sounding resigned and giving a few warning taps of the birch as she waited for Julia to be completely still.
Swish! Smack!
She believed she was ready for it, but Julia gasped at the first true blow. It landed with more of a thud than she expected, rather than a stinging lash, but just as the notion this might not be too bad could bubble up, the second swat landed. It ignited a lick of flame across the first, and Julia’s resolve was shaken.
“OWW!” She shrieked, half pained and half outraged, and exhaled in a groan. “Ohhh…”
“That’s two,” Davina said briskly, pausing with the birch bundle laid across the junction of Julia’s bottom and her thighs, ready to light up the tender crease at any moment. “Keep in place and I willna make ye count them. And God help ye if ye give me such grief I start again!”
Talking would mean speaking through tears and sniffling, so Julia bit her lip and nodded. She was vulnerable enough as it is, and she hoped to keep some dignity while enduring this humiliating exercise. With her eyes squeezed shut and her pale bottom in the appropriately upturned position, Julia remained in place for three more swats. The pink, crisscrossing lines glowed in her mind’s eye as they must also have been rising upon her flesh.
The sixth swat snapped across the back of her thighs with an impressive speed, and Julia shouted as her foot rose up and slammed down again in a defiant stomp. “Ooohhh, you horrid woman! You would abuse me for your own petty vengeance! Nothing more.”
“Abuse ye?” Davina said through a scoffing, though natural, laugh. “What abuse is there in consequences for yer own actions? Particularly after being warned once already?”
With a smooth step closer to Julia’s side, Davina curled her arm around the small of her back, bracing her against the side of her own hip to keep her still. She delivered the seventh smack with her full power, and was ready for the reaction. Any resistance was instantly stifled by the smallest tightening of her grip.
Whether she intended it to be or not, Davina’s touch was steadying to Julia, even comforting. With the growing burn in her flesh from the repeated blows, the beating was no doubt having the desired effect. Julia was being rendered truly humble and sorrowful of her lowly state.
The rumbling thunder outside was coming faster and louder, and the rain was hard enough now to leak through the thinned-out sections of thatch in the roof above them. The metal pot in the corner amplified every plink! of falling raindrops seeping through the roof. The peat fire in the corner hearth burned well enough, but the chill in the air reminded Julia how low her chances of surviving would have been had she succeeded in running off alone into the night!
Eight. Nine. Ten. The swats continued, and tears finally overwhelmed her. With her head hung low, Julia was nevertheless fully present within her body, if unable to exercise full control over it! Her heels bounced in small judders against the floor after each one landed, and her bottom shook from side to side. She could almost see this entire ridiculous tableau from somewhere above or away, yet it was all too fast and relentless to flee anywhere outside herself.
Davina was a practiced hand at this, clearly, for Julia’s agitation did not throw her. She never loosened her grip, and swung the birch in carefully calculated arcs to leave her marks across the full expanse of Julia’s bottom and thighs. The twelfth and thirteenth strokes hit at a fiery speed across the growing stack of pink welts, and her pained gasp was followed by a low moan that sounded haunting to her own ears.
With her entire being shrinking inward, tears dropped steadily from Julia’s face onto the rough blankets. There was no fight left in her.
“I’m sorry,” Julia whimpered.
And she was. Defiant words aside, Julia could not find it in her heart to believe Davina Porter was being moved by cruelty or spite.
To Mistress Porter’s view, it was of grave importance that the new maid obey her instructions not to stir up trouble. Punishing Julia for what she perceived as foolishness and arrogance (every thunderclap outside did force her to admit some truth to that!) was all the housekeeper could do with her own limited authority over the young stranger.
Julia was wise enough to recognize her subservience, but it was hard to bear it in mind in the immediate moment! The snapping strikes of the birch twigs hurt well enough, and her naked, prone position under a pile of lifted skirts was far beyond any humiliation Julia had ever endured. But, if it was revenge for Brian that Davina wanted, she could have made this a much worse ordeal.
There was no mindlessness to her actions. However painful, Julia’s thrashing was only to serve as a memorable impression of how serious the housekeeper was about avoiding the Laird! In total control, Davina knew what she was doing, and to her mind, this was a merciful act.
Amidst the suffering of getting her backside warmed, Julia was driven to further tears when she lamented everything she was becoming. Getting away from here, getting back to Henry, their daughter, and their home was still her first and only goal. But, what was she willing to do at the expense of anyone else?
Brian Fraser already suffered for her sake. Mistress Porter, in her way, was demonstrating her investment in Julia’s well-being. How much she could disrupt the lives of the people in this time and place was a question she had not considered until now.
Biting down on her lip, wincing against both the conviction in the question and the thrashing at hand, Julia stifled as much of her whimpering as she could. Everything she had left poured in continuous rivulets from her eyes, staining the blanket and pillow with salty droplets. The rest of the promised swats rained down, paced just far enough apart to let the sting sink deeper before the next strike lit everything anew.
When it was done, Davina implored Julia to compose herself enough to wash and say her prayers before bed. “You’ve much to think about, lass. And don’t go thinking I willna give ye more if there’s any further mischief!”
Julia could only manage a tiny, receptive nod. With all done, Davina left the room brusquely to see to the preparation of the Laird’s chamber for the night. Outside the door, she exchanged brief words with the other housemaid, who was on her way into the servants’ quarters with their clean chamber pots for the evening. When she stepped out again, the heavy footfalls of the Laird’s bodyman, the ever-present Balloch, could be heard on the stone walkway outside the open door.
Of course, now that Brian had taken his own thrashing, the man would be put back to work guarding over Julia for the night. Never truly alone here, at least she had some brief privacy to wash. Undressing stiffly, she took short, tentative steps closer to the hearth fire so as not to freeze while naked.
The water in the ewer at the washstand was icy, but actually felt quite nice on Julia’s heated brow and cheeks. But, there was no help for the burning ache in her backside, other than for her to bury her face in the wet cloth and let out a single shout of indignant, helpless rage.
Unable to fully blame Davina, the anger was made all the worse by having no real place to aim it.