The Reformer (15 page)

“Stop your kicking, girl. You behave as though you've never had this done before,” Martha scolded, smacking the wriggling cheeks harshly. Eliza broke into a loud sob, her humiliation building as Brigit stood stoically, watching her response. Martha scooped up a dab of lard and gently rubbed it against Eliza's winking bottom hole, ignoring the protests as she pressed her thick finger past the tight ring. Eliza yelled her objection as Martha carefully lubed both her insides and the outside.

“Enough of the fussing, young lady. One more sound and I am retrieving a switch,” Brigit ordered, rolling her eyes. “Martha, please begin. This child is giving me quite the headache.”

“Yes, madam. My pleasure. How much should she take?” Martha asked, locking Eliza easily in place and ignoring the muffled cries.

“With her present disposition, I think all of it is warranted. Don't you?”

“Yes, ma'am. And her holding?”

“Let's try for ten minutes.”

Eliza squealed as she felt her cheeks being pried apart once again and the thick nozzle from the bulbed syringe being inserted deep within her bowels. The warm water was squeezed into her and the syringe was removed. Martha squeezed her bottom cheeks together as she refilled the syringe and repeated the process. In a matter of minutes, the combination of the warm, soapy water and fullness caused Eliza to begin to squirm uncomfortably.

“Please, Nanny! I need to go…”

“Not until we are through here, Eliza. You are only half done.” Martha said firmly, winking at Brigit. Eliza groaned and tried to relax, finding it impossible as her bloated stomach rested over Martha's large lap. Loud gurgling was heard and Martha lifted her head to nod at her mistress.

“I think that is enough for now, Martha. Eliza, I wish you to stay on your hands and knees on the floor, bottom high in the air, until I tell you it is time to empty yourself. Understood?”

Eliza nodded, her tears still dripping down her face. Martha helped her to the floor and she knelt on top of a soft towel. Martha pressed her hand into the young woman's back, forcing her to arch her bottom even higher. Just when Eliza thought things could not be more humiliating, she heard, “Well, hello, Mother. What do we have here?”

* * *

Ryan entered the bathing area to a sight that never ceased to fascinate him. A bruised bottom held high in the air by a crying woman resting on her hands and knees on the floor. The basin and syringe clearly identified the activities at hand. A smile of satisfaction glanced across his face when his mind registered who was being cleansed.

“Hello, my darling. What brings you here?” Brigit asked, ignoring Martha's frown. She kissed her son affectionately on the cheek and took his riding gloves from him.

“I left my ward with Mistress Buckner for some special lessons. So, this is our new girl, hmm? Have you been showing forth a bad attitude, Eliza Woods?”

Eliza hid her face in her arms, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the humiliation in her eyes. Ryan patted her bottom, glancing at the marks and grinning at Martha.

“This looks like your work, my dear Nanny. Let me guess… she refused her porridge?”

“That, Lord Ryan, and insulted her reformer.”

“How shameful! Well, I will leave you ladies to your chores. Mother, I am taking the cart to the market. Is there anything you would like?”

“Nothing for me, darling. Martha?”

“Yes. Nettles, please. a long bundle with fresh, wide leaves. I suspect I might have need of them this evening,” Martha said knowingly, eyeing Eliza. Ryan noticed the shudder and, for a brief moment, felt pity for her. He said his good-byes, patted Eliza's raised rump once again, and departed the room. Several more minutes passed.

“You may get up and empty yourself now, Eliza,” Brigit announced. Eliza shook her head and groaned painfully as the soapy water flooded from her body, making her feel dizzy and nauseas at the same time. Brigit placed a wet cloth over her forehead and stroked the woman's hair as her body continued to explode beneath her. Eliza hid her face in her hands, unable to suffer more degradation.

“All is well, little girl. Does your stomach feel better?” Brigit asked gently, reaching to rub Eliza's cramping abdomen. Mortified, another gush of water escaped her.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Eliza bawled, crossing her arms over her stomach and rocking painfully on the hard, porcelain seat. “I don't deserve this horrid treatment.”

“No, child. You deserve much worse. But that is not why you are here. Wipe your face.”

“Why do you hate me so much? Is it because of what I did to that Russian girl?” Eliza cried, demanding an explanation.

“I do not hate you. I pity you. And if that tone does not change, we will repeat this cleansing. Is that required?”

Eliza shook her head quickly. When she was finally able to stand, Brigit led her into the tub filled with warm, lavender scented water. With a nod, Brigit dismissed Martha and sat on a stool to tend to the abashed young woman. She cleansed her gently, humming a Celtic folk tune. Eliza found her eyes closing, enjoying the attention and the gentleness of Brigit's hands on her body. She was broken by her helplessness and felt the fight slip away as she submitted to Brigit's care. She whispered, “No, Mama. I'll be a good girl for you and Papa. I promise.”

Chapter Ten

Ryan rode by the village after loading the cart with the fruit and vegetables that Aryanna had requested for canning and parked outside of the home belonging to the Buckner family. Light laughter was heard coming from the parlor room. He knocked softly at the door.

“Lord Ryan! Please, sir, come inside,” Mr. Buckner exclaimed. “May I get you a refreshment? My wife has made lemonade.”

“Thank you. That sounds wonderful. How is my girl doing?” Ryan asked quietly.

“I fear that my missus is not going to be easily persuaded to release your lady, good sir. The two have been laughing for hours. That is a sound I have not heard in my home in many years,” the butcher said with a sad smile. “She has not even considered having another child until this day. Miss Aryanna has brought hope back to her.”

“Miss Aryanna has a way of bringing hope to many of us, to be certain,” Ryan said proudly.

“Tell me, Your Lordship. Is she to be your wife?” Mr. Buckner asked quietly, noticing the gleam in the younger man's eye.

“She is my ward. It would not be appropriate…”

“I do not mean to offend. Please, forgive me. I just thought…” the butcher blushed.

“No, please forgive me. Yes. That is my hope. We are just in a rather precarious situation at this time…”

“Again, I apologize. I've known the earl for many years and recall when he, himself, took his ward to be his wife. I have never seen a happier pairing.”

“I agree, friend. But we must proceed carefully, yes? Ah, there is my beauty! Look how lovely your hair is!” Ryan praised as Aryanna approached him, followed by Hillary.

“Thank you, Lord Ryan. Mistress Hillary prepared it for me,” Aryanna forced out, practicing the words taught to her.

Ryan was impressed by both her manners and her speech. He turned to the other woman, who proudly admired her work. “Madam, you have indeed worked a miracle. I wonder, perhaps, if you can be available a couple of times during the week to tutor my dove?”

“My suggestion, Lord Ryan, is to allow her to join me in the classroom. My students are very well mannered and are learning at different levels.”

“I will consider this, good lady. Now, if you will please excuse me, I have a dinner appointment with my family and a cart to unload. Again, I thank you for your hospitality.”

Ryan smiled as Aryanna chatted the entire ride back to his home, sharing the things she had learned and practicing her greetings and sentences. Her eagerness to please him was humbling, and he mused about his good fortune. His pleasure increased when she threw herself into his arms, thanking him for all the contents of the cart. She exclaimed repeatedly, “Lord Ryan will be proud” as she sorted through the produce and canning jars that he had thought to purchase.

His pride in her grew when she asked if village ladies might come to the manor and assist her. In less than three weeks, the little Russian girl was becoming the lady of his house and his own pride and joy. He helped her dress for the evening's dinner party, careful not to disturb the carefully arranged ringlets atop her head. She was donned in a sky blue dress with slim lines and a cinched waist. The simplicity gave way to elegance with delicate pearl buttons and tiny lace trimming. He placed a simple velvet ribbon around her swan-like throat and added a few of her flowers to her hair in lieu of a headpiece.

“You look beautiful, dove. Papa and Mama are not going to recognize you.”

“Ryan? I bring doll, yes?” Aryanna asked nervously. He kissed her cheek, gathering his riding gloves and placing his hat upon his head.

“If it makes you happy, yes. And remember, I am there to blow away the ghosts,” he grinned, blowing in her ear and making her giggle. “Are you ready?”

Aryanna held her breath as they approached the large estate. She clutched her doll nervously and looked over at Ryan. With a deep breath, she placed the doll on the seat of the carriage and accepted his hand. He paused to kiss her lips gently, showing he approved of her actions. The butler greeted the two at the door and showed them in, where they were met by Martha. She did not miss the expression of fear upon Aryanna's face.

“You look lovely, Miss Aryanna. So grown up. Lord Ryan has been good to you,” Martha commented, eyeing the girl with a warm smile. Aryanna relaxed, nodding happily as she took Ryan's offered arm and allowed him to lead her into the parlor.

Brigit rose quickly and embraced the girl, delightfully praising her beauty and new clothes. Gerard waited patiently for his wife to complete her greeting before he reached for Aryanna's hand and, with a bow, kissed the back of it. Aryanna could not contain herself, flinging her arms around Gerard's neck.

“Thank you, Papa! I keep Lord Ryan!”

“Oh, you think so? What an imp,” Gerard chuckled, hugging the girl back and winking at his son. “I think we need to wait a bit before that decision is made. Wine, my boy?”

“Yes, Father, thank you. Where is Eliza?”

“Standing in the corner in her room with a reddened bottom,” Brigit answered. “She felt a bit of the birch today when she found out that you and Aryanna were coming for dinner.”

“The birch? Yielded by Father?”

“Not this time, Ryan. Your beloved mother had her screaming like an Irish Banshee. And this one? How many times has discipline been required?”

“Only one time. She is very well behaved and eager to please. Aryanna? Would you like to show Papa and Mama how you are reading?”

“With piano, Lord Ryan?” Aryanna asked. Gerard raised his brow with curiosity as his son sat next to the young girl and pulled out some sheets of music. Together they sang, with Aryanna leaning lovingly against Ryan's shoulder. Brigit wiped tears from her eyes, leaning in Gerard's arms.

“They are perfect together,” she exclaimed happily. “I told you so, husband.”

“Yes, you did. They appear to be very content with one another. But still, it is too early. Aryanna needs to learn all she can so that she makes a choice based on her desires, not on dependence. You know this, darling.”

“Yes, sadly, I do. Martha? Please retrieve Eliza and bring her down for dinner. Inform her that Ryan left the nettle branches outside should she fight you.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Martha responded, quickly moving her heavy body up the staircase. Eliza stood sniffling in the corner of her room, her frock hiked up in the back to expose a red and welted bottom.

“Come to Nanny, Eliza. Girl, what is it going to take to get you to watch your tone?” Martha asked, wiping her face off with a cool cloth. “Wouldn't you like to be able to sit again without having to fidget?”

“I can't help myself,” Eliza muttered, allowing Martha to brush her hair into two long pigtails and tie the ends with little pink bows. “Everything keeps getting harder to bear. And today, when he saw me unclothed and holding water… I can't abide to be in the same room with him. He is bringing that nasty little brat…”

“Enough with the name calling, young lady. She is being reformed, same as you. And each reformer has different methods for different kinds of girls. As soon as you accept that this is for your own good, the happier you will be.”

“Now Mama hates me too…” Eliza mumbled.

“No one hates you, baby. No one except yourself. Look at me,” Martha ordered. “As soon as you learn to love yourself, you will be able to love others. That will also allow them to love you. Stop fighting and give in to your heart. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Nanny.”

Martha held Eliza's hand as they went downstairs, Eliza facing the floor in shame as they entered the parlor. She curtsied prettily before the Earl and his wife, and then to Ryan. Aryanna stood by his side, first afraid and then amazed at the change in the headmistress.

“Mama, I wish to apologize for my tantrum earlier. Please forgive me,” Eliza said, turning towards Brigit guiltily. Brigit smiled, patting her hand.

“You are forgiven, my dear. Are you ready to dine?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Eliza said demurely, face not leaving the ground. The earl led the small group into the dining room where he held the chair for his wife to sit at one end of the table, and then for Eliza to her right. Ryan escorted Aryanna to sit at Brigit's left, then seated himself next to her. He did not miss the sparks that flew between the two wards as they stared at one another. Neither did his parents.

“I expect our meals to be taken with appreciation and in peace, young ladies. There will be no cat fights at my table,” Gerard commented. Ryan whispered something in Aryanna's ear. She nodded, holding his hand tightly under the table.

“Papa, I wish to thank you for your invitation this evening. I am most honored to join you.”

Eliza gasped, hearing the words come from the Russian girl. Her accent was still very pronounced, but her speech sounded cultured. Eliza bristled, wondering how long she had been practicing the sentence with the intent to impress
her
reformer.