Ghost of Bledgemoor Hall

Chapter 14. James

'For the rest of that day I was allowed to rest on my bed. Janet came at intervals and bathed the worst of the open cuts and applied Mrs. Simmons' herbal salve but it didn't seem to make much difference. Towards evening Mrs. Simmons herself appeared with a goblet of bitter tasting liquid and ordered me to drink it all. Whatever was in it calmed the pain for a while and I was able to sleep. However sometime in the middle of the night the effects wore off and I became restless and my moans and sobbing disturbed the other girls sleeping nearby. Janet tried to ease my pain but any relief was short lived. While they were sympathetic to my plight, after a hard day, they needed their rest too. I of course knew this and did what I could be remain quiet but as the night wore on, so the pain increased. Their compassion would soon fade if I kept them awake for too long. It is perhaps a strange thing, if a boy or girl are given twelve strokes of the strap, no matter that they hurt severely, the matter was always treated as fair game or a joke but my punishment had gone far beyond that. Perhaps they realised that by the grace of God, it might have been them.

I tried to sit and get up, an action that brought a loud unsolicited cry. Janet quickly appeared at my bed and I asked her to light a candle from the night light that is always kept burning in the room and to help me to the box room at the end of the corridor. In the event Mary helped as well. I knew there was a straw palliasse in there and no one would be disturbed by my cries. There I lay in darkness, covered only by some disused and dusty drapery.

Mary came to fetch me in the morning because Janet was on early duty and saw the filthy state I was in. She immediately fetched Mrs. Simmons who berated me and ordered me in the kitchen for a thorough cleaning. A painful, if necessary cleaning. And a very public one too but I was past worrying about my body being seen.

Not having any stomach for breakfast and not being able to sit, I declined any food but cook insisted on my having a plate of porridge, which I managed to force down. The housekeeper set me to work insisting, "It's better for you to keep your muscles moving, otherwise they'll be so stiff you'll never want to move them again," but it was only dusting jobs in the main rooms. Mary accompanied me and she was ordered to move any vases and things for me because my hands shook so. I hoped Mrs. Simmons was right but it didn't seem like it at the time. Somehow I managed to get through the day but by the end of the evening I was overwhelmingly tired and so sore I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep without another dose of the bitter liqueur. Reluctantly I was given some. "You mustn't have too much of this otherwise you'll always be wanting it, even when you don't need it," Mrs. Simmons explained. She also made sure I had clean linen to lie on and a rather threadbare but clean blanket to cover me. Thus I spent the second night in the box room.

My work the next day was in the kitchen. It was wrongly assumed that by now, I should be getting over the birching but a glimpse of the vivid welts, and the scabs forming should have told them otherwise. Most of the time I was washing pans, some of which were made of heavy cast iron. Lifting these caused my shoulders to scream with pain. Stirring the cooking pots was a little easier. Once again I went to the box room, sore and very weary knowing I would have no dulling of the pain from the liqueur.

My rest was disturbed after only a short while. "She's in here Master James." It was Hilda's voice. James had heard some of the servants talking about the birching and the state I was in. Before I could even make a feeble attempt at getting up, the door opened and Hilda entered carrying a bright oil lamp that dazzled my eyes for the moment. Master James followed her in. Having lain on my right side for some time, that being the least marked part of my body, I struggled to rise but had to slump back after the first attempt.

"Help her up if you please Hilda," the master ordered. Hilda placed the lamp on a box and helped me rise. My attempt at a curtsey nearly landed me back on the floor and would have done had not Hilda caught me. "Lift her shift, please Hilda." James looked at me for only a moment before ordering Hilda, "Take her to my room and then bring whatever ointments you can find that will help."

Up to then I'd had little enough to do with Master James apart from serving him at meals. Never had I been to bed with him and I knew he only occasionally took a maid to his room. Never more than one a week. Those that did said they would willingly return for he was a considerate and polite lover who made no attempt to hurt or punish them. Master Edward would poke fun at him but James generally fended it off with quiet good humour.

The rest of that night was spent in Master James' bed lying on a thick mattress of soft feathers. Master James lay close but not touching me. His closeness helped to lift the weight of the bedclothes from my sore body. I slept for longer that night than I had the previous two but before morning the pain came back and although I forced myself to remain as still and as silent as I could, I still woke the master. Fearing a spanking at least, I apologised most profusely but he told me to stop worrying and turned up the light, whereupon he took some of the ointment and applied it himself to my sorest places. I was truly amazed that one of the masters would do this to a lowly servant. Master Peter and Master Edward, if they had bothered at all, would have either sent me away or rang for a maid to do it. As he moved around I noticed his nightshirt was tented out in front but he made no attempt to molest me and I only caught glimpses of his erect pego when he bent down. It was obvious my nakedness excited him but even when he applied the ointment to my most intimate places, he never did anything to stimulate or interfere with me sexually.

On returning to bed, I placed my hand on his prick and asked if he wished me to service him but he answered quietly, "I will savour that pleasure when you are healed." It was at my insistence he did so three nights later. In the meantime he kept me under his wing. I stayed in his room most of the day and sorted and tidied his clothing and books as best I could and for two nights I laid chastely alongside him.

On the third night I almost had to compel James to put his pego in its proper place. I was still very sore but he'd been so kind and generous in his help, that I deemed it my duty to provide him with some satisfaction. I knew he had been aroused by my presence and had forced himself to refrain from entering me. Nor did he ask one of the other maids to come and service him.

I helped him undress as usual and when he was settled, it being quite warm in the room, I pulled the clothing back and climbed on top of him. His pego was fully erect and, despite the pain in my buttock and leg muscles, I lowered myself on to it. Thereafter I felt his hands on my hips and he assisted me to roger him. Afterwards I thanked him for pleasuring me which surprised him. Politely he replied, "The pleasure was mine young lady."

A week or so later I started work again in the kitchen. Mrs. Simmons insisted moving myself would help the healing process but of that I have my doubts. Lifting and carrying buckets of water gave me a lot of pain but I tried to do the work as best I could. At first the housekeeper was considerate in what she asked of me but as the days wore on, so my punishment became more and more forgotten, except of course, by me.

When I wasn't with Master James, my body was available to the entire senior staff and guests. On two occasions, Mr. Simmons, the butler, took me to his room forced his prick into my cunnie and my bottom hole. As is his want, he took me hard and roughly without giving any thought for the sore welts that still decorated my body. Indeed I fear the knowledge he was giving me pain gave him much pleasure. Fortunately Edward more or less ignored me. I think Master Peter may have said something to him.

Albert, Edward's artist friend, spotted me one afternoon about a week after the thrashing. I was polishing a table in the library. He watched me for a few minutes and then ordered, "Stay just like that! Don't move." My position, stretched across the table to polish the rail at the rear, I knew would give him a good view at least of the upper part of my thighs and probably much of my bum as well. I could feel the hem of my dress had worked its way up. Albert walked from side to side for studying my rear a minute or two. He raised the hem an inch or two higher but didn't uncover my arse completely. I held my position, wondering fearfully if he was about to spank or ravish me but as soon as I heard the scrape of a chair I rightly guessed it was just to do another drawing for Edward's collection. He seemed to take a long while and I began to get cramps but every time I made the slightest movement he reprimanded me to stay still. Finally it was over and I was able to stand. My relief lasted only a few minutes. Albert placed the drawing on the table where I could see it and unfastened his breeches. His prick sprang free, hard and erect. I tried to stall the inevitable. "That's an excellent drawing Sir," I said but he took no notice and commanded me to bend over the table again. As before, he wanted my bum hole and as soon as he gained entrance, pumped his weapon in me with gusto causing me considerable pain. Fortunately he was not long in spending his load.

I continued with my work but Albert didn't leave. Instead he went to a panel and turned a knobbly part of the carving and to my surprise the panel opened and inside was a deep cupboard with papers and such. Albert placed the drawing on a pile of similar papers and then seeing me looking, abruptly told me to look the other way. Fearing another spanking should he tell Master Edward I immediately did so. Before leaving Albert warned me. "If you tell a single soul of what you saw, then the hiding you had last week will feel like a mild spanking." I never mentioned it to anyone.'

Veronica finished typing and read through the text on screen, remembering all the happenings that occurred following her return from Becky's birching. She'd suffered greatly for the first day or so. Becky ignored her. The first indication of Becky's continued presence came when she was whisked back to her time. Taken right from under Gloria's watchful eyes. The return had been repeated many times since and Veronica put the incidents together in her narrative. By now Gloria had guessed much of what was happening and Veronica openly discussed what happened after each episode away. After the birching she had vehemently advised her companion to have nothing more to do with Becky and in her pain Veronica almost agreed. Now she was glad she didn't. No one else would have the practical insight into a maid's life of two hundred years ago that she had.

"Can't we go forward to when I'm completely healed Becky?" Veronica pleaded after the first return.

"No. Too many things happened that changed my life but we'll jump ahead and generally stay for just short visits so you get a general idea of what it was like to live through a thrashing in my times." Not wanting to upset their relationship again now they were talking once more, Veronica refrained from calling her a bitch and adopted the attitude that Becky knew what she was doing. Despite the pain, without Becky and their trips into the past, life would be very dull indeed. In any case she was far better off using modern painkillers than Becky had been with whatever was in the liquid and homemade salve.

Now, a three weeks after in both time zones, the stripes on Veronica's body were still very prominent but the pain has lessened considerably. Gloria tended her less regularly and she was now able to get take her to bed where each abandoned themselves to lesbian love. Veronica found this less demanding than the virtual sex she was having through Becky.

"I know what you're thinking Ronnie," Becky remarked, as she watched Veronica read the typed passage again.

"Do you think the pictures are still there Becky? Do you think we can find the knobbly bit of carving is in the library? I only saw it the once, I expect you looked at it quite a bit afterwards when you had to work in the room. Do you think the panel will still work?"

One question at a time Ronnie please," Becky laughed. "There's only one way to find out. Gloria's out in the garden tending her precious flowers so let's have a look."

The 'library' had long been devoid of books and only a few of the shelves remained. Gloria termed it the 'quiet room' where she could relax and read or write. The room looked very different but the fireplace, now only used as a receptacle for a decorative dried flower arrangement, and the oak panelled walls on either side were still as they were. At dado height was the row of almost identical carved lion heads. Gone was the demi-lune table Becky had been dusting but its position could easily be visualised. "You stand where you think you were when you saw Albert and tell me when I touch the right carving," Veronica ordered. From her position Becky could estimate to within three heads, which should operate the panel. Veronica tried turning the centre one. Much to her surprise it moved. To her chagrin, the movement stopped after only an eighth of a turn and nothing happened. She wriggled the knob back and forth but to no avail.

"Try turning and pulling, Ronnie. I seem to remember it was further from the wall when Albert used it. He had his finger right around the head." As if reluctant to leave the position it had been set for two centuries, the carving only released its grip a small fraction at a time. Eventually by dint of much jiggling and pulling it came out and Veronica was able to rotate it a full turn. The neighouring panel creaked a little but did not move.

"Damn!" Veronica swore and thumped the panel with her fist. Much to her surprise it had the desired effect. Whatever gunk had been holding it closed gave way and the panel creakingly started to slide. Impatiently, Veronica pushed it fully open and peered inside the dark, dusty recess. It appeared to be about two feet deep, the depth of chimney breast and went behind and below the adjacent panels, making quite a sizable storage space. A dust covered shelf, half the depth of the recess, ran across the opening. "Aaarhtishooo!" Veronica sneezed and sent a cloud of dust into the air. She sneezed again. "Can't see anything Becky. Too dark and dirty. I'll get the kitchen torch."

"I can't see anything either, Ronnie but there could be something on the floor of this hole." Becky voice sounded optimistic.

The torch however, revealed nothing but more dust. "I'll get the vacuum cleaner, then we can at least make sure nothing is there." Both girls were very disappointed at finding only an empty space. It was nice to know they had a secret hideaway but they had hoped it was full on interesting things.

"That knot hole in the floor board looks as if it was put there for a purpose," Becky commented, "Will the board lift out?" After struggling for a minute or two, not only did the board come out, an area of the floor came out with it. Another secret compartment.

Veronica shone the torch. "I think it's there Becky, it's there!" she cried out with delight.

"What's there? And what are you two up to now?" Gloria's angry voice silenced them. Although she could only see Veronica, she guessed Becky was there too. "And why have you taken out the panel? The whole room smells of dust."

The silence lasted only for a few moments, "It's the book, Gloria, the book of Albert's drawings. It's still in this secret cupboard." Veronica excitedly leaned in and gently removed a parcel wrapped in oiled cloth.

"Hold it right there young lady. I don't want that mess all over my table and floor." Gloria spread a newspaper on the table and, after gently vacuuming the dust from the cloth, Veronica carefully removed the now sear oiled cloth to uncover the leather bound folder while the other two looked on. The folder was in surprisingly good condition. No doubt the dry atmosphere and the covering had provided the right amount of protection. All three looked on with some excitement as Veronica slowly and carefully opened the folder.