Beatrice Comes Home From School

 

Sir Walter Arbuthnot Rowbotham regarded his teenage daughter in some concern. She was nineteen years old and newly returned home from another day, in this year of Our Lord 1882, at her studies at Miss Prendergast's private academy; a most expensive and exclusive establishment for the higher education of young ladies of the well to do classes. It was an academy that prided itself on its efficacy in moulding even the most vexatious and difficult of students into ladies of refinement. It was Miss Prendergast's firm assertion that she could, with her educational methods, take even the rawest or rebellious of young girls and cultivate them into the sort of ladies of charm, wit and feminine decorum that could grace the most cultured and courteous drawing rooms in England. Sir Walter was a great admirer of Miss Prendergast and all too willing to deliver his daughter, Beatrice, to her care. He had, in any case, been at his wits' end in the absence of any other solution.

Beatrice, it would not be unfair to say, was a problem child. Since Sir Walter's dear wife had passed away from the cholera in 1877, Beatrice had, without a mother's guiding hand, become unruly and fractious; displaying a most sullen temperament and tendency to disobedience. In the hope of instilling some discipline and sense of responsibility into her, Sir Walter had packed her off to a boarding school in Hertfordshire. It had been only partly successful. Five years at school had taken some of the edge off Beatrice's less desirable traits but it had hardly managed to forge her into the dutiful and respectful daughter Sir Walter would have wished for. He had long harboured hopes of marrying her off to the son of one of his colleagues in the House of Commons but his colleague had expressed reservations about the wayward young girl and made any further discussion of a union conditional upon a marked improvement in her manners.

With Sir Walter despairing of his daughter, Miss Prendergast had been a lifeline. He had been introduced to her at a soiree hosted by the wife of a prominent minister in Mr Gladstone's cabinet. He had been most taken by the self assured and cultured woman, only a few years younger than he, and been greatly interested to learn that she ran a private day school for, as yet, unbetrothed young ladies of marriageable age. When he'd told Miss Prendergast of his difficult daughter, she had been quite firm in her conviction that something could be done with her. She'd had great success, she'd assured him, with young ladies of troublesome temperament. She'd soon have young Beatrice pull her stockings up. A year or two in her academy and Sir Walter would hardly recognise his daughter. Young ladies in her establishment were taught etiquette, social graces, culture, the feminine arts and the duties of a wife and housekeeper as well as more academic subjects to round out their education.

Sir Walter had been delighted with the prospect. He, himself had no idea how to teach his teenage daughter the skills and graces required of a prospective bride. He had been, as far as Beatrice was concerned, a most negligent father. What paternal responsibility he had, had been largely devoted to his two sons; one of whom was now studying at Cambridge and the other having been commissioned into a fine Regiment. Devolving responsibility for his only daughter onto someone who knew far more than he of the arts of womanhood sounded an altogether more agreeable notion. It would also, as an added bonus, place him into close collusion with the admirable Miss Prendergast. She was an unmarried lady of most respectable pedigree and many fine qualities. He had a mind to seek a second wife.

Beatrice had been duly enrolled in the academy, along with some thirty odd other girls of similar age, and Miss Prendergast had been granted full authority to take what measures she thought most appropriate to turn her new charge into a genteel young lady. Miss Prendergast's fees were on the steep side but, after just a few months, Sir Walter considered it money well spent. Beatrice had never been so meek and deferential. She no longer spoke out of turn and seemed far more cognisant of her place. Her manners were much better and there was far less of the impertinence and sense of self importance she had shown previously. She was far more subservient and humble in the presence of her elders and much of the sulky resentment she had been guilty of before seemed to have left her. She had even, under Miss Prendergast's supervision, improved her appearance; dressing far more becomingly and taking care to look her best. She was, in short, much improved and, while there was still work to be done, it was a case of so far so good.

Or at least it had been good until the extraordinary spectacle stood before him had manifested itself. He had been sat at his desk in his study when there'd come a knock on the door. Upon leave to enter being granted, the door had opened and his daughter had shuffled in dolefully, looking, in Sir Walter's view, an absolute fright. Her day dress was crumpled, her hair was dishevelled and she walked in with a most unattractive, clumsy waddling gait as if in pain. Worse yet, her face was an almost comical mask of tragic woe. Her eyes and nose were red from crying and her bottom lip pouted and quivered in pitiful misery.

At first Sir Walter regarded her with alarm, thinking perhaps that she'd had an accident or been molested by some ruffian on the way home. "Great Scot girl!" he thundered, "What on earth have ye been doing with yourself? Ye look a mess!"

Beatrice hung her head in shame, "Oh Papa! Forgive me that I look so ragged and woeful. I know that I do not look my best today and that my bearing does not please you. I am greatly afflicted and of most deplorable appearance."

"Why then did ye not think to make yourself presentable before requesting an audience with me? Have ye come home from school in that state?"

"Yes Papa. I have walked all the way home just as you see me. Many people saw me thus on the street and must, I fear, think me the most wretched of girls."

"But why, in heaven's name? What possessed ye to walk abroad in such dishevelment? Have ye taken leave of your senses? Ye say you are afflicted. Are ye ill and if so what ails ye lass?"

Beatrice looked as if about to cry. "Oh Papa I am suffering most grievously but it is a tribulation of my own making. I have walked home and presented myself before you in the sorrowful state you see me in because I was so ordered to do so."

"Ye were ordered to do so? By whom by gad?"

"Why by Miss Prendergast Papa."

"Miss Prendergast sent ye home like that? Did the lady have good reason to do so?"

"She wished you to behold me in my opprobrium Papa; that I stand before you in all my ignominy."

"Opprobrium? Ignominy? What story is this in God's name?"

"A most scandalous one I fear Papa. I am in disgrace. Miss Prendergast sent me home in shame to present myself before you in abasement. She was most explicit in her instructions. I was to go straight home, without reparation to my appearance, and, once home, I was to take myself immediately to your presence that you may see for yourself the depths of my dishonour. Then I am to recount to you, in full detail, that which has earned me this disesteem and all that has come to pass as a result. I am to omit no detail however shameful it may be to me."

"Great heavens lass! What have ye done?"

"Oh Papa I am the most wretched of daughters. I have brought shame and dishonour on our family through my temper and jealousy. I have not the words to express my contrition and humility."

"Aye lass but what is it exactly ye've done?"

"Why Papa I've assaulted one of my schoolmates, Patricia Thornhill."

"Assaulted? You mean in a physical manner?"

"Yes Papa."

"Great Scott! Whatever possessed you to do that?"

"Through jealousy Papa. I thought that she was trying to be over familiar with my special friend, Rose. I accused her, in the school yard, of trying to steal Rose's affection from me and, when she laughed at me, I called her a most rude name, pulled her hair and slapped her face. When Miss Prendergast tried to intervene I used the most unladylike language and would have flown at Patricia again had not two of my school chums grasped me by the arms and restrained me."

"Good God!" Sir Walter exploded, "Have ye gone mad lass? What in God's name came over ye? What kind of behaviour is that for a young lady of your station? Brawling like a common gutter wench at Miss Prendergast's establishment by God! You are indeed a disgrace. I am ashamed of ye. What have ye to say for yourself?"

"I am most terribly and abjectly sorry Papa. I cannot think what overcame me. I think the devil must have possessed me at that moment."

Sir Walter shook his head angrily, "Well this is a sorry tale indeed. Whatever would your poor, dear mother have thought of your conduct? What is to be done with ye? I had thought your behaviour much improved these last months and now ye come to me with this abysmal story. I am at my wits end to know how best to address your bad behaviour."

"Oh Papa! Forgive me do. You have my most solemn word that no such thing will happen again."

"I should think not young lady. By God I never heard of such behaviour. You have let me down most grievously."

"I know Papa and I am most frightfully sorry."

Sir Walter sighed sadly, "If only your dear mother were still alive. She would know best how to handle this matter. As for me, I fear I am not best suited to manage the tantrums of a growing girl. I used to leave it to my wife to deal with your fractiousness and keep you in check. Now I confess that I am at a loss as to how to proceed. Can ye not offer me some silver lining to this dark cloud; something upon which to rest my hopes that you might yet be turned into a young lady I might be proud of?"

"Oh Papa I swear I will be better in future and do my level best to become a credit to you."

"Well that's something, I suppose, yet I fancy it will take more than words of contrition and idle promises to correct your behaviour. What, pray, did Miss Prendergast have to say of your disgraceful conduct?"

"Oh she had much to say Papa. She was most scathing in her criticism. I have never seen her so outraged. She was most exasperated with me."

"With good cause I would venture to attest. I would think that...." Sir Walter paused to frown at his cringing daughter, "What ails ye now lass? Why are ye shuffling like that? Can ye not stand still for five minutes?"

"Forgive me Papa. It is most taxing to stand still for I am so very sore."

"Sore? Why are ye sore girl? Did this Patricia Thornhill strike you back?"

"Oh no Papa. Patricia's behaviour was above reproach. It is through the ministrations of Miss Prendergast that I am sore."

"And just what has that good lady done, other than admonish you with sharp words, to make ye sore?"

Beatrice lowered her head miserably, "I have been flogged with the birch Papa."

Sir Walter brightened up immediately. "Have ye by God! Well this is a better tale. Flogged you say?"

"Yes Papa."

"With the birch?"

"Yes Papa."

"By Miss Prendergast?"

"Yes indeed Papa."

Sir Walter leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands before him in satisfaction, "Well this, at least, is most excellent news. My admiration for the most worthy Miss Prendergast grows the more I know of her." He paused in uncertainty, "It was a proper flogging I hope?"

"Oh yes Papa."

"Not just a few light taps with the birch?"

Beatrice shook her head feelingly, "On no Papa. Miss Prendergast was most diligent in her execution. I was flogged most thoroughly."

"Good, good. I am delighted to hear it. I trust that she laid the birch on good and hard."

"Very hard Papa. Very hard indeed."

"Excellent. I am gratified to hear that she applied herself so vigorously."

She did indeed Papa. I was birched long and hard."

"On your backside I presume."

"Yes Papa.... on my.... my bottom."

"And did she flog ye over your clothes or did she have your bottom bared for the birch?"

"It was on my bare bottom Papa. When Miss Prendergast had finished scolding me for my misconduct she had me marched indoors and had me placed over the birching block. Anne Harbinger and Lucy Fairweather were then ordered to raise my skirts and petticoats while Abigail Kendall was tasked with untying my drawers and pulling them down to my ankles. Once I was bared to her satisfaction, Miss Prendergast had Anne, Lucy and Abigail hold me down over the block while she flogged me with the birch."

"Capital! Most satisfactory. Tell me more. Was the birch rod a good stout one?"

"I believe so Papa. The birches were some four feet long and comprised of a dozen or more slender twigs tightly bound together at the base and half way along the rod's length. She soaked the birches in a tub of water before beginning so that the twigs might be supple and heavy with water."

"Birches? There was more than one?"

"Yes Papa. Miss Prendergast flogged me so hard that the twigs on the first birch began to break over my bottom, leaving a shower of small broken shards scattered over my loins and the floor beneath the birching block. When the birch had become unduly frayed, she set it aside, had Victoria McDowell fetch her a fresh one and then continued to flog me with that until it was as battered and as broken as the first."

"By Gad," said Sir Walter admiringly, "She sounds like a woman after my own heart. She is to be commended for such an exemplary thrashing. Were any other of the students, other than those who assisted her, present to witness your punishment?"

"Yes Papa. She had the whole school assembled to watch my flogging; even the two other teachers and the servant girls. It was most humiliating. I fear that the cheeks of my face burned as brightly red with shame as the cheeks of my bottom did from the birch."

"I am gratified to hear it. A little humility will do ye a power of good I think. It's time you were taken down a peg or two."

"Oh I have been most soundly and publicly shamed Papa. The other girls thought it a jolly good lark to see me bared from the waist and flogged. Miss Prendergast had them all stand behind me so they might all have a good view of my bottom as she birched me."

"Well I'll wager that it stung lass. It sounds as if Miss Prendergast gave ye a commendable thrashing. I hope it jolly well hurt."

"Oh it did Papa. It hurt very much indeed. I thought for a while that I might faint dead away with the pain of it."

"And did ye squeal as Miss Prendergast flogged ye lass? Did ye howl and shriek with the pain?"

"Yes Papa. I disgraced myself with my pitiful wailing. I screamed so loud that Miss Prendergast chided me for my cowardice and lack of fortitude."

"And did ye cry lass? Did the birch bring tears to your face?"

"I cried most piteously Papa; blubbering like a little girl, the tears running down my face and nose.

"And did ye beg for mercy?"

"Oh I pleaded most fervently Papa; entreating Miss Prendergast to spare me. She paid no heed however and continued to flog me mercilessly. The pain was so great that I could no longer control myself and I had a childish accident."

"Accident?"

"Yes Papa. I lost control of my bladder and disgraced myself further."

"By God! Are ye saying that ye wet yourself?"

Beatrice nodded in deep humiliation. "Yes Papa. I left a big puddle on the floor. Miss Prendergast was most vexed with me and beat me all the harder for my lack of control. She was adamant that I include that detail when I recounted my punishment to you."

"My word! It sounds as if ye had a right proper thrashing lass."

"Yes Papa. The other girls thought it the very best they had ever seen. Clementine Balfours said she had never seen a girl take so many hard lashes with the birch."

"And how many lashes was it?"

"I don't know Papa for I was in too much distress to keep count. Debra Waterfield said she thought it about a hundred but Pamela Clifford said no it was more. I do not know but my time under the birch seemed to last forever till I thought it might never end."

"And was your backside reddened and wealed?"

"Yes Papa. Miss Prendergast flogged my bottom and the length of my thighs until the other girls said there was not an inch left between my back and my knees not covered in swollen welts. And the birch twigs cut my skin Papa, until my bottom and thighs were red raw and bloody. Miss Prendergast had Alice and Lucy rub surgical spirits on my wounds to disinfect them and I cried anew for the spirits burned in the cuts made by the birch."

"By Jove," declared Sir Walter, in fine good humour, "No wonder ye can barely walk. That's a fine good dose of medicine ye've had today and no error."

"Yes Papa. Miss Prendergast is eager to know if you... if you are satisfied with my punishment Papa. I am to ask you if my flogging meets your approval and to report back to her to let her know whether or not you feel that I have been suitably chastised. She hopes earnestly that you are content that I have been adequately flogged. I... I am to tell her if you think my birching to have been insufficient. If you think it so then I am to assure you that she will have my drawers down to remedy the deficiency at her earliest convenience."

"Well I must say that it sounds all well and good."

"Yes Papa. I...." Beatrice blushed deeply, "I have been instructed to... to..."

"To what lass?"

"To show you my bottom Papa so that you... you may judge for yourself whether my birching was to your satisfaction."