Chapter 6

“Well, Mister Brocklehurst, what do you have for me?” The judge, a well-preserved man in his late seventies, had a quizzical expression. In his chambers, he was dressed in a good suit, not his formal robes.

“Your honour, my client wishes that you consider a suspension of a penal Indenture.”

“And your client is...” he was looking at Louisa Reynolds, naked, wearing an engraved collar.

“Regimental Sergeant Major Reginald Smith,” the lawyer replied, indicating said gentleman.

The judge’s eyes switched to the erect man standing with Louisa. “That would be you, I suppose, Sergeant Major?”

“Yes, sir, Your Honour.” When the judge cocked his head and nodded, Reg continued, “I am Deputy OIC at the Horseshoe ... the Training Centre. We took Louisa ... IS31/59 ... four weeks ago. She’s on a three-year Indenture following a serious assault on her father’s favourite concubine. The first couple of days, she gave us a lot of trouble, but responded to our management regime. You understand, the programme involves sexual training?”

“I’ve studied the Centre’s literature,” the judge nodded. “Indeed, I’ve made a few Indenture orders to you.”

“Mostly,” Reg went on, “we can be detached about what we do with the trainees, but sometimes a relationship forms that we weren’t expecting. That happened to me with Louisa ... Fifty-nine and she seems to return my interest. I want to marry her...”

Louisa gasped, and her head snapped round to look at Reg. “Master!?”

“I want to marry her. She’s willing to be my concubine. She’s willing to bear my children. However, it does not sit well with me to use her like that.”

“I see,” The judge studied some paperwork in front of him for several minutes. Reg and Louisa, became agitated, which Reg, better than Louisa, was able to conceal. “Sergeant Major,” the judge looked up. “You’ve never been married?”

“No, sir. I never found a woman willing who I felt could cope with the life of a military wife.”

He turned his attention to a nervous Louisa. “Fifty-nine. You think enough of this old man to commit your life to him.” Notice – that was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, sir ... Your Honour. He’s not old in my eyes, and I already love him.”

The judge nodded. “I want you to realise, Fifty-nine, that the order I’m going to make does not remove the penal Indenture completely. That will be set to one side and, as long as your behaviour continues to be acceptable, will cease entirely on your release date. However, should there be any problems in the interim, it will automatically return into force with any additional sentence the presiding judge makes.”

“Yes, Your Honour. I understand. May I speak further?”

“You may.”

“Your Honour, I would be willing to serve this man as concubine, Indentured Servant or slave, for the rest of my life. His wish to marry me is an honour I do not deserve. I wish to please him. He has made me a whole person. I regret desperately the actions which placed me in the Centre, but I could never regret the fact that I have met him.”

“I see.” The judge returned his attention to the documents in front of him, picked up a fountain pen, signed several times, applied a stamp to several documents, dripped red wax onto another and pressed a seal into that to make it official. “Mister Brocklehurst?”

“Your Honour?”

“Did you pass on to the Sergeant Major the advice I gave?”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

“Good. Fifty-nine ... Miss Reynolds ... your penal Indenture is duly suspended. All that remains are civil requirements. You are willing to marry Regimental Sergeant Major Smith?”

“Yes sir! Your Honour!”

“Sergeant Major, you have rings, I hope?”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

“And you are willing to marry this young lady?”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

“Then let us take care of that matter too. Would you remove that collar, Sergeant Major?”

“Yes, Your Honour.” He turned to Louisa, manipulated the collar – on James Brocklehurst’s advice, he’d had the collar modified so as to be readily removable – took it off, and handed it to his solicitor.

The civil ceremony was brief, if dignified, and at the end Reg kissed his new wife; a rather longer and more intense kiss than would be usual in a judge’s chambers. The judge, smiling, coughed, and they snapped apart.

“Congratulations, both of you,” the judge said, warmly. “Miss Reynolds ... don’t disappoint me, or your husband.”

Louisa, whose eyes were suspiciously bright, responded. “No, Your Honour. I know this is a chance for happiness, and perhaps to redeem myself.” She reached for the orange ‘slave shift’ dress.

“No, Missus Smith,” Reg told her. “You are not a slave, remember?” James Brocklehurst handed him a bag. “With your permission, Your Honour?”

“Certainly! Though it’s a pity to cover up such a perfect female form.” The judge chuckled and Louisa blushed as she took the bag which Reg handed her.

She removed, and slipped on panties, then a bra. “We’ll get you some better fitting stuff on the way home,” Reg told her, as she slipped a pretty flowery dress over her head.

“When do you want to do the deed, Sarah?”

“When my brother can get here, darling. He was planning to come in about a month. Etty’ll be nearly six months along by then and he wants her somewhere safe until the baby’s born. The plan is she lives with her parents until she’s fit and the baby’s okay to leave.”

Socially, it was the event of the year. The Chairman of the ruling Committee gets married? Seriously important event. The training arena was cleared of exercise equipment, which was moved into vacant cells. The trainees were all ‘dressed’ in slave shifts. That was actually resisted, both by some of the trainees and Helena and Fiona, who wanted to do the same as Candy and Etty. However, Stuffy, Reg, and the members of the Committee, didn’t want to rub the guests’ noses in that aspect of Centre life. In particular, they wanted to avoid the possibility of some of the less ‘couth’ guests demanding sex. Chairman Booth, though, was also concerned with future attitudes toward his wives.

In fact, attitudes, at least in the vicinity of Derby, had changed. Many of the male guests brought more than one ‘partner’, whether wife or concubine.

But the arena was dressed out for the wedding, with an altar in front of the far cells, ‘prie-dieux’ in front of it, seating, of course, with a central aisle, and many, many, flowers.

The piano, originally acquired for Helena, was moved out of its place in a vacant cell, placed to one side, and tuned. A former trainee agreed to play, a current one brought her violin, and Heidi Collins brought her flute.

Guests were given brochures explaining the origins and ‘mission’ of the Centre to peruse whilst waiting for the ceremony to begin. That would, in time, result in a further influx of trainees.

At Helena’s insistence, the ceremony began with a symbolic ‘freeing’ of, first, Fiona, and then, Helena. As with Skipper Bill, Candy and Etty, Fiona became ‘First Wife’; she kissed her – rather older – ‘sister-wife’, Helena. Together, Fiona on her new husband’s right, and Helena on his left, they walked back along the aisle to Pachelbel’s ‘Canon in D’. But that was as far as they went; as soon as they passed the last rows of seats, the trainers and trainees moved the chairs to the side of the arena, and the musicians struck up the ‘Blue Danube’ waltz. By arrangement, Chairman Booth danced first with Fiona, while his Best Man, Philippe Sturgeon, danced with Helena. Then, to the strains of ‘Moon River’, they changed places.

A microphone was handed to the groom at the end of the second dance. “My friends,” he began, then went on, “thank you for sharing in this occasion. There will be more dancing later, but I’m afraid you have first to endure the usual speeches and the food. The staff here have been labouring mightily, ably managed by Imogen Collins, and although we’ll be eating from a buffet, I feel sure you’ll be able to enjoy it. Vegetarian and other special diets are clearly labelled. Perhaps if everyone is full of food and happy, the speeches will go down better. Chaplain? Your blessing?”

“Thank you, Chairman. Lord God, we thank you for this happy occasion, and for the skill and imagination of the cooks who have worked so hard. Bless the food, we pray. Amen.”

Sarah made sure the trio had plates of food as they circulated. Once the initial pangs of hunger were assuaged, the speeches began. It cannot be said that they were entirely conventional, with several references to the setting, but on the whole they were predictable. In due course, the cake was cut and distributed. The newly-weds made use of a vacant cell to change, and they departed for the airport.

Following Joshua Sutherland’s flight to take the Chairman to the Orkneys, the Committee had decided a somewhat larger aircraft was in order. They somehow tracked down an elderly DHC-3 Otter; seventy years old, but in perfect order. Joshua was one of the pilots authorised to fly it, so with Jenny (wife number three) as his co-pilot, they took the three to Orkney again for a honeymoon as the guests of the Laird.

“Baby, I know you want to stay here with us,” Bill Sanders was holding Etty, who was obviously well pregnant. “But I will not take chances with our first child. This is a chance to visit your parents, watch my sister get married, and get you some medical supervision.”