Story: Managing the Heiress. Chapter 3.

by Charles Ryder

The following week saw a very subdued Charlotte. She carried out her duties without a murmur. She accepted the many criticisms she received from her mentor with little or no dissent. On the Friday she was called into the former sitting room which was now Mrs Francis’s office. 

“I have two pieces of good news young lady. The first is that I’m very pleased with your behaviour this week and as a result we’ll be going on an outing tomorrow. And the second is that your husband has been able to secure the services of an experienced house maid. The young lady is called Mary, I believe. She will be starting with us on Sunday.”

Charlotte could hardly believe her ears! Mrs Francis was actually pleased with her. She would be going on an outing and she would, after all this time, be finally getting a housemaid. This was simply marvellous news. Stephen would be so proud of her. She could hardly wait to tell him.

The following morning she woke early and washed herself. She dressed herself in one of her new uniforms, reminding herself that the skirt was maybe a little too short and tight for her and that Mrs Francis may allow her to have it taken out a little. Timidly she knocked on Mrs Francis’ bedroom door, and when answered she entered and placed a cup of tea on her bedside table as required. At first this had seemed an intolerable imposition but now Charlotte regarded it as just one of her many duties. Thankfully though this might be the last time she carried it out. From tomorrow that would, she imagined, be Mary’s job. She smiled to herself. She’d done it. Her husband would be bound to be impressed by her efforts. She’d proved to him, and to Mrs Francis, that she could learn her lesson and was now in a position to run the household as she wanted it run. She would have such fun instructing the new girl in her new duties! What sort of mistress would she prove to be? Certainly, she would be fairly strict. If she’d learnt anything from her mentor it was that servants had to be managed. They were most assuredly not friends, they were subordinates.  Perhaps not quite as strict as Mrs Francis maybe? Not a disciplinarian with a cane but certainly strict, strict but fair.

“Good morning Lottie, I trust you’re well?”

“Good morning Mrs Francis I’m very well thank you.”

The casual diminution of her name had been a fairly recent innovation. At first Charlotte had bridled against its use. But with respect to Mrs Francis her given name was rather a mouthful and considering their friendship she’d finally accepted its use as a form of endearment. 

“That’s very good to hear, my dear. I expect you’re itching to know where we are heading on our little adventure today aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am Mrs Francis, I’m so looking forward to it, wherever can it be?”

The woman sat up in her bed and smiled.

“Ah, that’s for me to know and for you to find out. Carry on with your duties and then report to me in my office at 11 o clock. We’ll be leaving the house at midday. Chop-chop now young lady, you have several duties to attend to before we go.”

Charlotte made a little curtsey and scurried from the room. That was also a relatively new innovation. At first, she had rebelled against learning to curtsey, after all what was the point? A soundly smacked bottom had convinced her otherwise. Now she did it without thinking. After all it was simply another skill to pass on to her housemaids wasn’t it? She rushed through her duties in order to present herself to Mrs Francis at the agreed time. It was incredible really how much effort it took to properly run a house. When she was a child in Rhodesia, she very much took for granted the efforts of her servants. Everything was always done for her. Rooms were always immaculate. Her shoes were always polished. Her beautiful clothes were always perfectly laundered. The gardens were always kept in pristine condition by an army of gardeners. She felt herself blushing as she realised how much work and effort she’d ignored. She promised herself there and then that in the future she’d be far more appreciative of the work of others. Finally, her work was done and she hurried along to the agreed meeting place. 

Agnes Francis looked the girl up and down. It had taken a few months admittedly but now she had the entitled little brat just where she wanted her. She hardly looked like the wealthy heiress now did she? Her uniform was clearly too tight even for her tiny little tits and quite scandalously short. Her apron was covered in dust and grime; her cheap shoes were scuffed and battered. Her hair had come adrift from its pins and was now hanging down from her cap. Even her face was flecked with what looked like soot.

“Examine yourself in the mirror, Lottie. You are a disgrace to your uniform, girl! Upstairs with you and into the bath. We haven’t time to heat the water, you can stand while I wash you. Hurry now, girl.”

Charlotte fairly scampered up the stairs. She supposed that she should have been indignant and questioned Mrs Francis, but that just didn’t seem possible nowadays. Rather than rebel, she quickly stripped off her outer garments and her ugly work boots and left them lying on the floor. She unclipped her stockings from her girdle and then removed it. She could hear Mrs Francis’ shoes on the stairs and redoubled her efforts.

“Good girl, in you get.”

Charlotte stood awkwardly in the shower trying to cover her rather threadbare Mons with one hand and her breasts with the other. Mrs Francis smiled to herself; the silly little chit didn’t have much to hide in either case. She poured the first jug of water over the compliant girl who gave a little shuddering tremble as the cold water cascaded over her. Ignoring her, Mrs Francis seized a bar of carbolic soap and began to scrub away vigorously. Every single square inch of her delicate skin was attacked, when she squirmed a little too much for Mrs Francis’ liking, the woman simply reached over and slapped one of the girl’s long, glistening thighs leaving a red imprint of her calloused hand. When her hair had been washed in the same odd-smelling soap, why she couldn’t use shampoo had never been explained, she was rinsed for the final time and then bodily lifted out of the bath. Charlotte resented being treated like a child by the much larger woman, but she’d learned how to hold her tongue.

Within the hour though both women had left the house. Agnes Francis marched along the pavement holding Charlotte’s hand. She was dressed in her customary all black garb. Alongside her Charlotte had to scamper almost to keep up with the older woman's determined stride. Her free hand was engaged in a battle to keep her short grey skirt from blowing up in the wind. She was a little unhappy in the way she was dressed. Along with the skirt she was wearing knee length white socks and shiny, black shoes. She also had on a long-sleeved white shirt and a blue jacket. The jacket was unfortunately tailored like a short blazer. It even had a nondescript badge on the breast pocket. On her head she wore a straw boater with a blue ribbon around the crown, kept squarely on her head by a piece of elastic that went behind her ears and under her chin. The whole outfit was just so... juvenile. She shuddered to think what her stylish Rhodesian girl friends would make of her current appearance. Her reverie was interrupted by a sudden slap to the back of one of her legs.

“Don’t dawdle please Lottie, there’s a good girl.”

Charlotte yelped in shock. The whole situation was so unfair. She looked around furtively but as far as she could tell nobody had witnessed her humiliation. Here she was a nineteen-year-old married woman being publicly spanked in a busy street in broad daylight! By her own servant! Surely that was wrong?

“Please Mrs Francis, please don’t...”

“Please don’t what, young lady? Please don’t spank you for misbehaving? If I hear one more peep out of you my girl, I’ll put you over my knee right now. Do you understand me?”

Charlotte cringed as they passed an elderly gentleman who, she was sure, had heard every word.

“Well girl?” demanded the overbearing woman in a slightly louder tone.

“Yes Mrs Francis, sorry Mrs Francis.”

"That's better, young lady. You don't want me to have to speak to Captain Darnley do you; I expect he's got enough on his plate right now?"

Charlotte hung her head in shame, the old housekeeper was right. The woman took her hand again and steered Charlotte through the loud, chaotic streets. The young woman didn't resist, she found the noise and the bustle of London to be quite intimidating after the peace and gentility of Salisbury's dusty streets. If anything, she gripped the austere woman's hand just a little more firmly. Heaven knew what she would do if she lost Mrs Francis, she had absolutely no idea where she was. She had managed to memorise her own address, but she didn't know if her own house was behind her, in front of her, or to her right or left, or indeed how many miles away it was. A policeman would help her, she assumed, but what about all the beggars and rough-looking men that they seemed to pass with alarming frequency. And what if she couldn't walk that far, she didn't have any money for a cab or even an omnibus, not that she'd actually ever been on an omnibus. How did they operate, how did one alight, did one simply flag one of the unfamiliar red vehicles down? The fact that she didn't have any personal money was particularly galling, but as Mrs Francis said, she didn't own a purse and neither did her pretty little dress have pockets so what where would she actually carry money? No, far better for all concerned if Mrs Francis was responsible for the financial side of things. That's what Stephen said anyway.

Eventually she was ushered into a nondescript little shop that was tucked away up a side street. The bell over the door jangled as it closed.

“Good morning madam, how may I help you?” the shop assistant asked, obsequiously.

Good morning, I’m here to enquire about your range of domestic disciplinary implements, if I may?”

“Most certainly, madam. Might I enquire as to the age and sex of the recipient of our disciplinary tools?  Servants I assume or perhaps a younger member of the household? It would be beneficial in terms of the advice I hope to offer.”

Here he glanced at Charlotte as if noticing her for the first time. Mrs Francis explained to the gentleman that she wished to purchase a cane, maybe two canes, and perhaps a leather strap. Charlotte could hardly keep her eyes off the array of disciplinary tools. She’d never seen such a collection, her elderly school mistress had carried a cane but that had largely been for effect. She didn’t recall ever seeing it used on a schoolmate; it was certainly never used on her. She had a sudden cold feeling in her stomach, why Miss Francis was actually here, for whom were the cane and the strap intended? The look of fear must have been obvious because Miss Francis spoke to her,

“Don’t worry yourself, young Miss. Do we not have a new maid starting with us next week? I want to make sure that we all start off on the right foot. Although if you want me to buy a nursery cane for you, all you have to do is ask.” Mrs Francis laughed at her own wit.

The man smiled revealing an unpleasant set of teeth. Charlotte bit her lip and blushed with embarrassment as her own servant intimated that she was but a child, rather than the actual nineteen-year-old mistress of the house. She could hardly wait for this new maid to arrive!

The following morning Charlotte was up bright and early. Hopefully this was the day her enforced domestic education would end. The new maid was due to report to the house at around midday she had been informed. She was dressed in her second Empire dress. This one was royal blue in colour and had if anything even more ribbons and bows than the other one. And it was so short, almost but not quite scandalous, but Mrs Francis had been most insistent.  Nevertheless, she didn’t really mind. Her husband had managed to drag himself away from his duties and was on his way over to the house to take her to church. She checked her appearance in the mirror. Once again, she was a little downhearted. The addition of the straw boater had if anything made her more self-conscious. Did it, as Mrs Francis had claimed, make her look older?  Or did it, as she feared, make her look even younger? At that moment she could hear voices in the hall. Dashing downstairs, she threw decorum to the wind and launched herself into Stephen’s arms.

“Oh, darling I’ve missed you so much. It’s lovely to have you back again.”

Stephen Darnley hugged his little bride to his chest and then held her at arm’s length as if to scrutinise her.

“My word, darling you look scrumptious, good enough to eat in fact.”

Good grief! What has she done to herself? She looks like about thirteen. Stephen had to battle not to laugh out loud at her new appearance. Agnes had warned him in advance that her new look might surprise him but this had really exceeded his expectations! How had the woman persuaded Charlotte to dress in such a humiliating fashion? It was agreed that Stephen and Charlotte would go to church and return for lunch. Mrs Francis would wait for the new maid to report and then instruct her in her new duties. Mrs stood in the doorway and waved the young married couple on their way. Although in reality it looked like a father taking his daughter to church.

Stephen held his wife’s hand and basked in the attention the couple received as they made their way back to the house. Dressed as she was she appeared to be a magnet for every lascivious gentleman in the city. He lost track of the number of times he touched his hat and replied to their jolly ‘good mornings’ with one of his own. Charlotte of course was completely oblivious to the effect she was having on the male population. Nevertheless, when they arrived back at the house, they were both in good moods. Stephen rapped on the door with his cane. A couple of minutes later the door was answered by a dark haired, buxom young woman who curtsied prettily to the pair of them.

“Welcome back sir, miss.”

“And you are?”  asked Stephen.

“Begging your pardon, sir. My name’s Mary, sir. If it please you, sir.” She gave a clumsy little curtsey.

Stephen handed her his hat and cane. Before Charlotte could hand her the despised boater the woman had turned on her heel and disappeared into the house. They were ushered to the dining room where they enjoyed a delightful lunch. When they’d finished, Mrs Francis led in the maid who blushed prettily when she was introduced. She was attractive in a gypsy sort of way thought Charlotte to herself, dark haired, dark eyed and slightly swarthy skinned. Which, she accepted, certain types of men found attractive.  Mary had a faint accent which could be Scots or Irish maybe? Charlotte couldn’t be sure. She was also older than Charlotte had imagined. It was hard to gauge accurately but Mary looked ten years older than the age she thought the maid would be.

While this was running through her head, she was dimly aware of Mrs Francis instructing the young woman on her duties, her hours of work, her remuneration, her duties and so forth. Finally, she asked the new maid if she herself had any questions.

“Yes, ma’am if I might be so bold. Are the master and the young miss the only members of the household, are there any other children?”

Charlotte felt her blood run cold. She knew straight away that the maid had innocently assumed that she, the mistress of the house, was a child. She wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t really want to embarrass the poor girl on her first day at her new place of work, but really! However, she was surprise to hear the reaction of her husband and her housekeeper. Both broke into peals of laughter. The maid looked bewildered but as her husband slowly explained that the ‘young miss’ was in fact the mistress of the house even she struggled to hide her amusement.

“Begging your pardon, miss. What with you being so pretty and young-looking miss. I’m most dreadfully sorry miss.”

Charlotte could already feel the tears pricking her eyes. This was truly becoming intolerable. Before she could express her anger Mrs Francis bundled the young woman out of the room leaving her with Stephen.

“Stephen I really must insist that...”

“Darling please don’t presume to lecture me. The girl made a genuine mistake for which she has apologised. What would you have me do? Take her across my knee and spank her perhaps?”

“Of course, not dear only that...”

“Only what, dearest?”

“Don’t you think that I may be allowed to dress in a manner befitting the mistress of her own house? Look at the clothes Mrs Francis has me wear. It’s no wonder Mary thinks I’m a child!”

“Darling you’d do well not to raise your voice to me at my own table! You should bear in mind that I encourage Mrs Francis to dress you in a manner that pleases me.”

“But Stephen I’m your wife. Don’t you want me to dress as a woman and to assume my rightful place in this house?”

“Your rightful place in this house, dearest is exactly the place that I deem most suitable for you. I receive regular reports from Mrs Francis regarding your behaviour. Far too often I hear that you’ve behaved childishly or that she’s had to slap your legs for you. Can you imagine my thoughts when I hear such news? Darling I have to introduce you to fellow officers, my superiors. How would it look if the woman on my arm turned out to act in a foolish or inappropriate manner? What do you think that would do to my prospects for advancement? Do you think this situation makes me happy at all? Why do you think I haven’t introduced you to any of my associates? Is it because you’re ugly? Clearly not, you’re a very attractive young woman. Is it because you’re common? Clearly that’s not true either. The problem is that you’re very young and you haven’t been able to move in the right circles, through no fault of your own I hasten to add. It’s almost as if somehow you need to be re-educated in the ways of the world.”

Charlotte wept as she listened to her husband. Clearly, he considered that she wasn’t up to scratch. He was embarrassed by her behaviour. She was suddenly struck with a cold fear. What if she decided that enough was enough? What would she do if he abandoned her? She knew absolutely nobody in England. She had no remaining family in Africa. She couldn’t even access her own bank account without Stephen’s approval. She dimly remembered visiting her father’s solicitors in London but she couldn’t remember their name or even where the office was. Who would take care of her if Stephen wouldn’t? Who would supply her with the loving, sexual relationship she so craved?

Almost as if reading her mind he leaned over and hugged her to him.

“Have no fear darling; I intend to make the most of a bad situation. I will never leave you, I’m an officer and gentleman. I’m quite prepared to take whatever steps I consider to be necessary in order to rectify our relationship. I love you dearly but you would do well to heed my advice. I believe you need taking in hand and I also believe that I’m eminently capable of achieving the desired result. If you agree with me then let’s kiss and make up. Tomorrow is another day after all.”

And so, it turned out. After a night of heroic, even by my standards, love making she was but putty in my hands. Even a girl as foolish and self-centred as Charlotte had picked up on my unspoken threat to abandon her. She listened attentively as I outlined my plan. Firstly, she would not be required to act as a maid in her own house anymore. Although I found her humiliating servitude a huge stimulus in our lovemaking, I also realised that it would be difficult to maintain the subterfuge now that Mary was employed in that capacity. Now it was time to convince my little wife that her ‘re-education’ was to be literally that. Now that Mrs Francis was superfluous to requirements as far as supervising my wife’s drudgery duties was concerned, I had a new role in mind for her.

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