Chapter One

 

Angelica silently navigated the stairs and approached the sitting room. She was hoping to get past her aunt and her hateful cousin without detection and make her way to the kitchen. Her aunt had placed her on a strict diet that would not have maintained a sparrow in good health. Of course, this was supposedly for her own good, as a slim figure and pale complexion were of the utmost importance if one was to secure a good marriage. It seemed to Angelica that she ran the risk of expiring of starvation long before the much hoped for suitor made an appearance at her door.

Fortunately, Winnie, the old family cook, agreed with her analysis of the situation. Angelica was much prone to walks around the estate and to feeding the birds that dwelt thereupon, so Winnie would pass her bundles of scraps suitable for this purpose. No doubt her advanced age and eccentricity was the reason that she considered large pieces of pie, cheese and ham as suitable feed for the birds.

Something in the tone of her aunt's voice made her pause and eavesdrop.

"Mother, she is going to be twenty-one next year. Once she reaches her majority she will have full legal control of the estate under the terms of the trust, and both you and I shall be out on the street shortly after," said the voice of Angelica's much hated cousin Cynthia Browning in her usual shrill and unpleasant tone.

Angelica nodded in fervent agreement with this sentiment.

"Hush child. Do not fret. I shall find a way to deal with this problem. Curse my brother for his legal meddling. What sane man would set up a trust that would hand over the entire estate to the Church in the event of the death of his daughter before her majority." This was the harsh, bitter voice of Angelica's widowed aunt, Agatha Browning.

Angelica prayed nightly to the sainted memory of her departed father and his legal acumen. She had long suspected that if not for the terms of the trust, she would have been reunited with her father many years ago.

"I can see but one solution mother. Dear cousin Angelica needs to meet with an unfortunate accident on the day of her twenty-first birthday. The trust makes no provision for this eventuality and the estate shall go to her only next of kin, namely her loving and most deserving aunt and cousin."

Mrs Browning's voice said, "I am coming to believe that you are right, although such a move involves many risks. We need to work out a careful and methodical plan, if Angelica is to become and angel." Both women laughed heartily at this jest.

Angelica's lovely eyes widened in alarm at this overt declaration of her aunt and cousin's intentions. The sound of footsteps approaching the sitting room door made her abandon her listening post and hurry to resume her interrupted bird feeding expedition.

 

***

 

Later that day, Angelica and her less than loving relatives gathered at the front of the house to watch the approach of a town coach pulled by a very fine looking team of horses, and bearing the august personage of Sir Percy Congreve, who was the Senior Trustee of Angelica's trust. It was his practice to visit Angelica once a month as part of his duties to ensure himself of her well-being and to see that her income was both adequate and properly employed. Needless to say, he and Agatha Browning maintained a somewhat strained relationship.

In truth, Agatha would have preferred never to have to entertain Sir Percy, but since he controlled the purse strings to the income upon which she and her beloved daughter depended, she had no choice but to put the best face on it that she could.

However, this particular visit brought with it a surprise that was to change the lives of everyone living in Farleigh Hall. As the carriage approached, it soon became obvious that it had two occupants rather than the usual lone figure of Sir Percy. Being women, all three of them noticed at once that Sir Percy's unexpected companion was male, expensively dressed, young and handsome, in that order.

Sir Percy stepped out from the carriage and bowed. When his companion reached his side, he held out his hand to him and said, "May I introduce my friend, Dr John Seward of London."

Dr Seward bowed and smiled charmingly. "Ladies. Charmed to make your acquaintance."

All three ladies curtsied and Mrs Browning simpered, a sight fit to make the sparrows fall from the trees, and said, "You are most welcome indeed Dr Seward. This is my daughter Cynthia. Say hello to the nice gentleman Cynthia."

Cynthia batted her eyelashes, curtsied again and said, "Pleased to meet you sir."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Sir Percy cleared his throat and glared at Mrs Browning.

With obvious reluctance, Mrs Browning said rapidly and without turning her head, "And that's my niece Angelica."

Angelica curtsied politely and blushed under Dr Seward's regard.

He bowed and said, "I am most pleased to meet you Miss Angelica. Sir Percy has spoken of you to me."

The formalities done with, the entire assembly made their way to the sitting room, where tea and biscuits had been laid out by the maid, although the careful arrangement of the crockery was somewhat disarrayed by the addition of an extra setting.

After some polite observations regarding the weather, Sir Percy said, "As you are aware, I have made it my practice to visit you on this day every month in order to enquire as to the state of affairs in this household, as I am obliged to do under the terms of Angelica's trust. I had recently made the acquaintance of the good Doctor, and when this month's visitation came around, I was struck by the idea of bringing him along in order to benefit from his observations and advice."

Mrs Browning's linearly formed lips tightened to near invisibility upon hearing Sir Percy's words. "Are you a medical doctor then, Dr Seward?"

Dr Seward smiled charmingly and replied, "Of a sort, dear madam. I am a doctor of the mind. As a matter of fact, I have had the recent good fortune to open a private hospital in London dedicated to the treatment of the ailments of the mind."

Sir Percy observed, "Dr Seward's establishment is most selective of its patients. None of your common riff raff, you know. After all, the common crowd have Bedlam to go to, don't they?"

Cynthia pressed her hands to her bosom and exclaimed, "Sir, surely you do not seek to find madness amongst us?"

Dr Seward held up his hand. "Not at all, dear lady. Sir Percy had merely asked whether I could look in on Miss Angelica and reassure him that she does not suffer from any distress of the spirit."

Angelica imagined that she saw a fleeting shadow of alarm pass over Mrs Browning's usually impenetrable countenance.

Sir Percy turned his head to glance out of the window and remarked, "As a matter of fact, it looks like a fine day for a walk. Perhaps, Mrs Browning, you and Miss Cynthia would do me the favour of accompanying me for a stroll. You need have no concern regarding the propriety of leaving Angelica alone here with young Seward, as he is a doctor after all."

Seeing no option but compliance, Mrs Browning and Cynthia hastened to follow Sir Percy out the door after casting one last glance over her shoulder.

 

***

 

Upon their return from their stroll, Mrs Browning anxiously studied Dr Seward's face for any clue as to his intended report to Sir Percy. She was given little opportunity to practise her new found interest in mind reading, as Sir Percy was eager to return to London. To her surprise, as Sir Percy was making his way to the carriage, Dr Seward turned to address her.

He removed a card from his vest and gave it to her as he spoke in a soft, confidential tone. "I have made a close examination of Angelica, and as you are her guardian, I believe that my conclusions and recommendations may be of much interest to you. I propose that I return again on the morrow, unaccompanied by Sir Percy, whereupon we may discuss matters of mutual benefit."

Mrs Browning's keen instinct for personal benefit told her that she should accept Doctor Seward's proposal, so she nodded and replied cautiously, "Naturally, I am always desirous to learn of anything that may affect the well-being of my dear niece. I would be delighted to have you come by again tomorrow."

Chapter Two

 

As soon as the carriage faded from view, Mrs Browning turned on Angelica. Her claw like fingers gripped her niece by the ear, and using that convenient handle, she direct her victim back into the sitting room, followed by a gleeful Cynthia. With the door firmly closed and the three of them safely ensconced in the privacy of the room, Mrs Browning demanded, "What lies did you tell that nice Dr Seward? I know your cunning and deceitful nature much too well to believe that you spent your time with him discussing embroidery or the latest dances in London. Not that a clumsy cow like you would have any use for such knowledge."

This last induced a rather unladylike snigger from cousin Cynthia.

Angelica had been the recipient of such a multitude of similar tirades over the years, that the storm of words ran over her like raindrops over a window pane, making no impression whatsoever. However, her aunt's suggestion that her terpsichorean abilities were on par with a stumbling bovine did sting, as she was rather proud of her skills in that arena. Although she knew full well that her protestations would be useless, Angelica said, "Indeed dear aunt, we did but discuss the most innocent of subjects. He inquired as to my general health, and I assured him that I was hale and fit. He then extended his inquiries to my state of mind, in particular whether I was happy, and whether I had any fears or if any matters oppressed my spirits. Once again, I replied in the negative, and assured him that I was in good cheer. Other than that, our discourse was indeed limited to such matters as the weather, my favourite colours and the like."

Mrs Browning's face darkened with anger. Truth be told, it required one as skilled in the interpretation of the woman's Gorgon-like features as Angelica or Cynthia, in order to be able to tell the difference in her present expression from her ordinary appearance. "I see that I was foolish to expect the truth from you. It is a wonder that the good lord does not strike you dead on the spot for so abusing your god given ability to speak. Well, you know the penalty for such behaviour. If the lord will not will not send down his wrath, then it is my duty as your guardian to carry out his will."

As always, her aunt's ability to interpret the intentions of the lord amazed Angelica. However, she knew that she had no option but silent submission. From what she overheard that morning, it appeared that even that would not save her the moment that she achieved twenty-one years of age.

Mrs Browning turned to Cynthia and bade her fetch the instrument of correction.

With a smile of glee, Cynthia hurried to comply. It was her duty to prepare a fresh bundle of birch twigs every time that Mrs Browning had occasion to use the birch on Angelica's posteriors, which was rather more often than Angelica would have preferred. She skipped back and held out the ribbon bound bundle of twigs towards her mother.

After bestowing a loving smile on her obedient daughter, Mrs Browning thrust her head towards Angelica in a manner reminiscent of a striking viper. "You know what to do. Lord knows, I've been forced by your stubborn and uncooperative attitude to punish you sufficient times in the past for you to be familiar with the manner in which you should prepare yourself for correction."

Angelica did indeed know all too well what was required of her, and she moved towards the table with a carefully concealed sigh. Any indications of discontent or rebellion were deemed by her aunt as sufficient cause for additional punishment, so she took pains to demonstrate a subdued and obedient manner, even as she prepared herself for the unfair and unwarranted punishment. She had long ago realised that the birchings that she suffered bore no relationship whatsoever to her behaviour, but rather to the ill humour and vindictiveness of her supposed guardian. She bent herself over and raised the hems of her skirt, petticoat and chemise, all the while painfully aware of the gleeful anticipation of cousin Cynthia. With a feeling of shame that was only slightly tempered by familiarity, she exposed her legs and then her buttocks. She leaned forwards and laid her upper body upon the white linen of the tablecloth and then tucked her skirts up above her waist such that they would safely remain in position during her birching. With that task done, she pressed her cheek firmly to the table with her hands to either side of her head. The final shameful step of her preparation was to slide her feet apart to the width of her shoulders. According to her aunt, this was to demonstrate her submission to the punishment by ensuring that even the most private part of her person should be properly exposed to the birch. Mrs Browning seldom took advantage of this facility, being mostly more concerned with the infliction of the hardest possible strokes. On the other hand, cousin Cynthia derived great delight in her skill with the birch, directing the harsh tips of the twigs into the most private and sensitive nooks and crannies as often as she could without appearing to be deliberately targeting those areas, which would of course have been improper. It became a mental game for Angelica, while waiting upon the birch, to attempt to decide which wielder was less to be desired.

On this occasion, Mrs Browning decided to cede the honour to her daughter, the better for her to appreciate Angelica's discomfort. Returning the birch bundle to Cynthia, she said, "Angelica's stubbornness has quite worn me out. I am certain that I'm getting one my heads. Be and angel and deal with her for me."

Ever the obedient and thoughtful daughter, Cynthia accepted the burden with good cheer. On the pretext of adjusting Angelica's skirt, she leaned towards her cousin's head and whispered, "Your cunny is going to dance under the birch today dear cousin."

Angelica's was much tempted to make a witty retort, but common sense prevailed and she refrained from baiting the person who was about to give her a birching. Instead, she concentrated on maintaining her composure and determined herself not to cry out or to give Cynthia the satisfaction of seeing her tears. She felt the stiff birch twigs brush her bottom and she clenched her fists. "Swish! Thwack!" The birch danced on her rounded globes and ignited a flame that would shortly spread all over her indecently exposed posterior.

Cynthia dashed the birch against her cousin's bum again, and yet again, watching in glee as the harsh kiss of the birch turned Angelica's bum a deep pink, speckled with dots of crimson. When she judged that she had placed sufficient strokes upon her cousin's posteriors to provide the appearance of a good birching, she cunningly began to shift her aim and change the angle of her wrist so as to make the tips of the twigs curl and bend into the deep split, skilfully reaching for those sensitive parts that are normally sheltered from rude treatment and prying eyes.

Having been forewarned by her spiteful cousin, Angelica fastened her teeth upon the side her thumb, not having the benefit of the leather pad on which to bite upon, that is usually provided to soldiers on the whipping block. Ostensibly, her aunt frowned upon laying the birch upon any other target other than the posteriors. However, Angelica had learned from bitter experience that Mrs Browning always developed a convenient defect in her vision whenever her daughter wielded the birch, and that any protests on Angelica's part would only result in additional punishment for bearing false witness against her cousin. Thus, cousin Cynthia was at liberty to shift and adjust her victim's posture such that the birch was almost obliged to strike within the shadowy regions between the thighs. As the birch bit and stung her delicate skin, Angelica knew that for her, walking or sitting would be a most unpleasant trail over the next few days. Again and again, the birch danced merrily on her bottom, with the rigid tips of the twigs bowing their heads to savage her most private parts, the pain of which Angelica was obliged to suffer in stoic silence.

Cynthia sighed with regret when her mother signalled the end of the punishment. On the other hand, the birch had been worn down to a mere stub, such had been her enthusiasm in performing her duties and her cousin's posteriors were glowing with a heat sufficient to warm the room in substitution for the fire that crackled cheerily in the fireplace. She noted with particular satisfaction that she had managed to draw several small spots of blood from the pink lips that peeked out from the slit of her cousin's cunny.

With her duty discharged, Mrs Browning retreated to her bedroom to lie down, complaining of an aching head, which of course she blamed on her niece. Cynthia cheerily donned a bonnet and went out into the grounds with shears and basket in hand, in order to harvest a fresh bundle of birches.

Angelica could not retreat to her bedroom immediately after a punishment, since such an action would be interpreted as being an expression of defiance or dissatisfaction with her treatment. Instead, she carefully seated herself in the sitting room in order to practice her needlework and to reflect on the painful wages of her many imaginary sins.