* * *
Her breakfast was broughtto her, and she was dressed, hurried along by the efficient maid, who made no overtures to gossip nor to obtain gossip, and who seemed almost mechanically disinclined to care why Lina was there, or where she was going, or why the marriage to Mr. Blackstone had not occurred.
Lina feebly tried to pry the information from her, by surveying the dress the maid had selected for her to wear and inquiring:
“Do tell me, what is the occasion for my visit to Mr. Blackstone?”
The maid’s accent was a northern garble which Lina could barely understand. “Now, Miss, I’m not privy to it, nor am I to speak of it if I should be, which I am not. You are to wear this dress is all I know, and it’s all I’d say if I did know more, which I do not.”
And then she was led to the same room from the night before and abandoned by the escort who brought her there like a package.
She watched him retreat and surveyed the long corridors to her right and her left. The servant had brought her a different way than the one who had escorted her the night before, and she was certain she had been led a different way on the return trip to her room as well. The estate was vast, labyrinthine, and dark, and she would likely lose her way and starve before she escaped if she attempted such a thing now.
She faced the heavy wooden door, and the coolness in her chest slipped into her stomach. The tender skin of her bottom pulsed as though someone had touched it. The maid had, upon dressing her, bluntly stated that she was to wear no drawers beneath the dress, as it was unnecessary, and she would be unable to remove them to relieve herself.
It was not so uncommon, but when Lina opened her mouth to object, the woman stood up and snapped: “It’s my orders and you shall take them off.”
So now, the rough fabric of the skirt rubbed her sore skin, each step in the dress reminding her of Mr. Blackstone’s firm hand the night before.
The terrible wetness threatened to spill over, she could feel it, slowly welling up between her legs. When she knocked on the door, her lady-parts throbbed with an ache.
The door clicked, but did not open fully. No sound came from behind it, so she tentatively pushed it open.
“Mr. Blackstone, sir, I—”
“Enter, Miss Blanchet.”
The voice again performed its extraordinary feat, crawling through her chest like trailed fingertips over skin, sending a chill down her spine that mimicked fear, but was not precisely that.
Mr. Blackstone was, again, standing in the shadows that were created by the lighting of the room, seemingly specifically for that purpose. Again, she longed to see his face: was he a monster, really? She didn’t know why she wanted to see him, only that she did.
“Today we shall begin your training, Miss Blanchet. I remind you that you are to be obedient, or you shall be disciplined.”
“Yes, sir,” Lina said, as clearly as she could. She had dared to imagine herself speaking up, asking Mr. Blackstone if he might listen to her story, so that she could tell him the truth.
Now that she was in his presence, though, she lost her nerve, and it deflated her.
Mr. Blackstone turned to the bookshelf which had, the night before, opened to admit Dr. Doyle. He stepped through it, leaving her alone in the vast room.
“Follow me,” was all he said.
Lina stepped, stomach in knots, in the direction of the bookcase doorway. It opened into a dark corridor, damp and cold. She shivered and hesitated, before taking a few steps. She looked behind her, at the door to the enormous study, filled with light. She wondered if she would ever see it again.
Mr. Blackstone had continued walking, and he did not even slow to say, in his characteristically animal-like growl, “Keep walking, Miss Blanchet, or I shall be given the impression that you are being willful and disobedient.”
She was still for a beat, and then, for reasons she could not explain to herself, and although she feared she would regret it terribly, she began to follow Mr. Blackstone.
They did not travel far: down a curved staircase, but not a full flight, and through another door, and then another.
“This is the room where you will be trained,” Mr. Blackstone announced, in his authoritative voice.
Lina clutched her skirts in her fists to stop herself from opening her mouth to say something, for she very much wanted to ask Mr. Blackstone a question. Her bottom, however, was still very sore from her discipline the day before, and while the thought of being spanked again held a certain, perverse appeal for her, she knew better than to push her luck.
But the curiosity that had burned inside of her all night long was ignited in her chest again. If only she could know what lay in store for her, what it all meant... if only she could decide if she should try to flee, again... or stay.
Charlotte’s words ricocheted in her mind:sexually perverse.
Lina did not have any way of knowing what that would mean, and yet her imagination was running wild, stirring her up, clutching her chest with a strangling fear.
