Chapter 6

Several weeks had passed since Fred had made his last visit, when he had found himself reluctantly but energetically strapping the suffering Girl with the wicked leather belt. Autumn was beginning to set in by now and the Girl was being kept busy by sweeping up the fallen leaves from the gravelled paths and perfectly manicured lawns. Fitch was constantly behind her to ensure that she did not slack. His sturdy leather belt was always at the ready and the eagle eye of the Mistress was ever on the pair to make sure that the Slave was working and the overseer was suitably strict in punishing her failures.

The sound of leather on flesh was a familiar one by this time about the ancient home. The Girl had become used to it all by now and the tears no longer coursed down her sweet face after a particularly brutal punishment. She was harder on the outside and also in her inner self.

"I hear the Girl is getting it again!" said Mr Jenkins to Mrs Huskisson as the sounds came in through the open pantry window to where the two of them were enjoying a welcome glass of sherry.

"She never learns - that one. Idle as they come. Make sure she gets some from you, Mrs Huskisson when she comes to clean out the kitchens later on! We mustn't be soft on that wicked bitch. Remember how she stank the town out when she was begging there? Shocking person!"

"I certainly do remember, Mr Jenkins." replied Matilda Huskisson.

"The poor dear Mistress was terribly distressed that day when she was accosted and importuned by the shameless idle wretch. Well - she's learning now the hard way that she can't get away with being a dirty parasite. Never fear, Mr Jenkins! I know my duty and I am not afraid to do it!"

"God bless you, my darling!"

They treated themselves to another glass of their employer's sherry apiece and went about their separate tasks. Mrs Huskisson went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner for the Mistress and a large gathering of guests. She examined the potatoes which the Girl had spent the early hours in peeling. At first, she was afraid there were no traces of peel left on any of them, but the disappointment faded when she discovered the merest trace on one of them. The rest of the vegetables had been prepared perfectly, however and even the vicious Matilda felt she had no valid excuse to add to the Girl's sufferings on this occasion. There was always the next day, though. Hope springs eternal.

Meanwhile, the Girl was smarting after yet another of Fitch's reluctantly applied beltings. She knew that Mrs Fitch had to put up with much worse and that the gardener's heart was not in it by this time. The Girl was almost inclined to like the man, in some ways, by now.

The leaves were falling all the time at this late date in September and she had no sooner swept and cleared the paths and lawns when her efforts were rendered useless by yet another gust of wind and yet more leaves to be cleared. There were weeks and weeks of this wearisome task still to come! She realised this with a sinking heart.

Much of the garden was a slope, and a pretty steep one at that. Mrs Bottomley, her Mistress, had decided on an elaborate series of terraces and the back breaking task of digging them out and moving vast quantities of earth and stones had fallen to the Girl - who else? She had lost count of the times she had wheeled soil and rocks up that steep slope to the accompaniment of curses from the Mistress and blows from Fitch and applied spade and shovel, forcing them into the ground with her bare feet.

Privately, the gardener had told her how well she had done and both the Girl and Fitch were pleased, both at the progress they had both made and the beauty of what they were achieving together. She wished it caused her rear end less pain, though!

She was inclined to love her outdoor work and every morning when her other duties were over, she was delighted to be in the clean fresh air. Rain or shine, it was all the same to her. To be out of the Castle and away from the awful Mistress and contemptible Jenkins and Huskisson was sheer bliss. The prospect of Winter and the end of these happy times filled her with dread.

The worst part of the day was when she was finally allowed to go up to her little room, with its bare stone walls, high narrow window and wooden boards for a bed. No mattress and no blankets had been provided for the poor Girl and she was already finding the nights uncomfortable, sleep eluding her in the chill, despite her utter weariness after a long and gruelling day.

To think she that had once, long ago, known comfort. She had also known similar discomfort of course, as well as the frequent and muscular application of the strap and cane to her bare bottom - her parents had sent her to a VERY good school, where her behaviour had not always been the best! But, at school she had always had companions in disgrace and misfortune. At night in the dorm, the girls would compare their various bruises and vie with one another as to whose bottom had acquired the most colourful marks! She had usually been the winner in these unofficial contests, being a wild girl with little respect for Authority. The memory made her smile as the forced the spade into the ground and dug out more of the terracing.

Late afternoon brought Fitch's departure.

"See you in the morning, Girl! We're making progress, you and I!"

"See you, Sir." replied the Girl, blinking back the tears as she saw his familiar figure shuffle away. She resisted the temptation to say "Give my regards to Mrs Fitch." That would most likely NOT be a healthy thing to say.

She put all the garden things away in the shed and said farewell to them until the morrow. It was with much foreboding that she made her way to the kitchen and the unpleasant Matilda.

"Oh! There you are, you lazy cow! It's not that far from the gardens to the kitchen. Smarten yourself up and get a move on with the cleaning. I want the floors scrubbed. If I see a speck of dust when you've finished, you'll be for it. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes, Madam - I get beaten again."

"Right! So make a good job of it - bitch!"

"Yes, Madam."

With this she got onto her knees and applied the scrubbing brush to the stone floor. She never knew what was worse, the scrubbing or the final drying. She knew it made no difference how careful and thorough she was, she would always be judged to have left a spot undone. Occasionally the strict Matilda would be too busy to make a thorough check and she would be safe, but as often as not the end of this task would be followed by more painful contact with leather.

This time she was lucky. There was a banquet this evening and Matilda was rushed off her feet. As soon as the floor was clean, the Girl was drafted to assist with the cooking. She liked this a lot, considering herself a much better cook than Matilda, but not daring to say as much!