The Inheritance (4 page)

"Thank you for
a lovely meal," James said. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.
Perhaps we can take the horses out for a gallop.

"Yes,
perhaps," Lord Michael replied.

"Goodnight my
dear," Lord Michael said warmly, placing her black cape around her
shoulders. "I'll see you at some point tomorrow."

"Yes, my
Lord," she answered, thinking he looked quite pale.

He walked them
to the door, watched them climb into the carriage and waved them
farewell. As he ambled back into the house and headed for the
stairs, he decided he would rest in bed until late in the morning.
If he felt refreshed he would return to the Barrett house. If not
he might take the afternoon for himself. He couldn't remember the
last time he had simply sat in his library and read a book.

In the
carriage Elizabeth thought her brother was watching her with a
strange look in his eye. It was unnerving and it didn't help her
state. Her punished skin was scratchy and tingling and she was
constantly shifting in her seat.

"Anything
wrong, sister?" he asked, innocently.

She felt her
face burn. She was sure James knew that Lord Michael spanked her
regularly. He had made comments from time to time, and though she
had ignored them and pretended she had no clue about that to which
he was referring, she often felt he did not believe her. Whenever
she did or said something that met his disapproval, he would
threaten to inform Lord Michael. Why would he make such a threat if
he didn't know Lord Michael would exact some toll for her alleged
crime?

"Everything is
perfectly fine," she lied, wishing the road wasn't quite so bouncy
and the seat was softer. Lord Michael had spanked her very hard
indeed.

"You were
quite forward with Lord Michael after dinner," James said, sternly.
"Don't you know better? I can't imagine what he must have thought.
You behaved in a very unladylike manner," he finished, thinking how
rewarding it had been to watch her being punished for her naughty
behaviour.

Elizabeth
sighed deeply. If she didn't acquiesce and apologize to James and
promise not to do it again, he would tell her Master and she could
very well be spanked all over again.

"Yes, brother.
You're right. It was bad of me and I'm sorry. I will apologize to
Lord Michael next time I am in his company."

James grinned.
Amazing what a good dose of discipline could do.

The carriage
finally arrived at their home and Elizabeth gratefully escaped from
the cab and hurried indoors. She was desperate to take off her
clothes and lay in her bed, cocooned in the cool comfort of her
cotton nightdress. But to her dismay her father was waiting in the
foyer full of expectation.

"Hello, my
dear," he said warmly, as Elizabeth walked into the house. "Where
is Lord Michael?"

"He did not
come back with us father," she said, now able to show her
disappointment.

"I see," her
father said gruffly. He didn't know what to make of it. When was
the man going to honour his daughter?

"He's not
feeling very well," Elizabeth said quickly, not wanting her father
to think badly of him. "He said he ate too much Boar."

"Humph. Well -
Boar can do that. Very well - you look tired too, Elizabeth.
Perhaps it would do you good to have an early night as well."

"Yes father, I
plan to," she replied, wishing she could just dash up to her room
and comfort her bottom.

"Off you go
then," he said, dismissing her.

Relieved, she
scurried up the stairs and headed for her bedroom.

James had been
watching the exchange between father and daughter, and after
Elizabeth had disappeared he walked over to the elderly man still
standing in the foyer.

"Care to join
me for a brandy?" James asked.

"Yes. Yes I
would son," he replied. "Don't understand it. Just don't understand
it," he quipped, walking with James into the drawing room.

The man had a
habit of repeating his words when upset, and James could see his
father was very concerned indeed.

"Sit down
father, I'll pour," he offered, and moved quickly to the liquor
cabinet. He could hear his father grumbling as he poured the amber
liquid, and after delivering him the large crystal snifter he
settled into an adjacent armchair.

"Father," he
said, calmly. "If it's any consolation I believe very strongly that
Lord Michael will take Elizabeth to be his bride."

"You do?" his
father asked, hopefully. "You do?"

"Yes. Lord
Michael has told me himself how fond he is of her. I believe he
wants to ask her - and you of course," he added quickly, "at a time
when it's not expected. You know how he does not indulge my sister.
I believe he wants her to understand it is his choice when he
asks."

Barrett cocked
his head to one side.

"Ah. Ah. Yes,
James. That does sound like him. Yes. Does sound like him.
Excellent my boy. Excellent. You have relieved my mind. Thank you,"
he said, gratefully.

His face much
cheerier, he sipped his brandy and turned the conversation to other
topics.

Later that
night, as Elizabeth slept somewhat fitfully thanks to her tender
behind, and Lord Michael wasn't sleeping at all because of a sudden
fever and upset stomach, and George Barrett was snoring loudly, and
James was resting very happily after having taken care of his
rampant member while thinking about a young woman named Caroline
who would soon be feeling the heat of his hands, fifty miles away
an unforeseen event was unfolding that would change each of their
lives - forever.

C
hapter Two

Hanley
Hall

It was mid
morning when the letter arrived. Elizabeth had wanted to take
Constance for a ride, and though she made a valiant attempt her
bottom refused so she had taken the mare for a hand walk through
the wooded area where Lord Michael had made her trudge through the
mud a year before.

Feels like a lifetime ago
, she
thought, stopping to let the horse graze on some particularly
luscious grass.
And yet, like
yesterday
.

She sighed,
looking back at the house to see if he might be galloping up on his
amazing black stallion, Coalpepper, or riding in his very handsome
carriage. There was no sign of him.

He had not
looked well when she left him the night before and she couldn't
recall an evening when they had not indulged in some form of
scandalous play. In fact, in the previous year she had never known
him to be ill. Not once. Not a cold, not a bad muscle ache,
nothing. He always appeared to be the picture of health and vigour.
It was most unsettling to think of him incapacitated.

She decided to
return Constance to the stable and consider if there was something
she might do. Pulling Constance from her happy snack she started
back to the stable, and was halfway there when she saw a messenger
cantering up to the door. She paid him no heed until the thought
occurred to her that it may be a note from Him.

Perhaps
something was wrong - perhaps he was quite ill and needed her. She
began running, calling to Roy, the stable lad. Hearing her cries
the young man came racing from the barn and saw her attempting to
run across the uneven ground. He immediately sprinted forward,
concerned she would wrench her ankle, or worse!

"Here - thank
you, Roy," she said breathlessly, throwing him the lead line, and
before he could respond she was off, dashing up to the house.

"Be careful,"
he called, but she did not hear him. Her mind and her heart were
focused on her firm belief that Lord Michael was very ill and
desperately in need of her.

It only took
her a few minutes to reach the front doors. She burst into the
foyer to find her father holding a piece of paper looking very
grave indeed, and James shaking his head.

"Terrible
news," her father was saying. "Terrible news."

"What?" she
cried. "What is it? What's happened?" Her mind was swirling with
all kinds of dreadful imaginings about her Master.

"I'm afraid I
have some bad news for you my dear," her father said, walking
toward her.

Elizabeth held
her breath. She couldn't bear it. Lord Michael was in a terrible
state. She just knew it.

"It's your
Uncle Alfred," he said, sombrely.

Uncle Alfred?
Elizabeth's head was
swimming.

"He is gravely
ill and has sent for you. Well, for both us. But he especially
wants you at his side."

Elizabeth
rubbed her forehead attempting to gather her thoughts. The message
had nothing to do with Lord Michael. She felt foolish for having
jumped to such conclusions. Taking a deep breath she focused on the
unwelcome news. Uncle Alfred, or Uncle Alf, as she called him, was
very dear to her.

"My goodness.
That's dreadful!" she exclaimed, the news hitting her. "Poor Uncle
Alf. We must go at once."

"Yes. We
must," her father agreed.

Outside of her
father and Lord Michael, Uncle Alf was the dearest man in the
world. Throughout the years she had spent many weeks at his grand
estate and she absolutely adored him.

"James," she
said, moving quickly to her brother. "Would you please deliver the
news to Lord Michael for me? I shall write him a note and I would
be grateful if you could give it to him."

"Of course,
Elizabeth," he said, kindly.

Unlike
Elizabeth, James had never really cared much for his Uncle. He
found him boisterous and loud, and the manner in which he
indulgenced his sister abjectly annoying. The man refused the
little girl nothing and would spend hours playing with her. But at
the sad news, James felt truly sorry for Elizabeth. He knew Uncle
and niece were very close.

"We must pack
and leave right away - right away," her father declared.

"I shall be
ready very quickly, father," Elizabeth said, moving to the stairs.
"I must find Grace to help me."

"I believe
she's already in your room packing your things," James informed
her.

"Oh. Thank
you. I'll change and be down soon father," she said hastily, and
walked urgently up the stairs.

Elizabeth was
very upset. As a child Uncle Alf was her favourite person in the
entire world. He would chase her around his expansive gardens, play
hide and seek and all manner of games with her. When he noticed the
young girl's riding ability he spent hours teaching her all he knew
about the sport.

But in recent
years, as she had matured and become a young lady she had seen less
of him. Time in the city shopping, attending balls and events, and
of course her weekends with Lord Michael had made her frequent
visits to her dear Uncle more of a rarity.

She did
however, write to him often to keep him informed of all her various
activities, and he always replied to her immediately. As she placed
the final item of clothing on the bed for Grace to fold and pack,
the tears started.

Thirty minutes
later the baggage was loaded on their carriage and they were on
their way, and try as he might her father could not console his
very worried daughter. It wasn't a short journey, at least two
hours. Possibly three. Sitting with his arm around her as she would
suddenly sob into his shoulder, he found it difficult to retain his
composure. The large lump in his throat was threatening to erupt
into heavy emotion. It was the need to be strong for his dear
daughter that kept it at bay.

His brother,
Alfred, was a tall elegant man, with a surprisingly deep voluminous
voice. It gave him an air of authority - an authority that he
didn't really possess. Alfred was in fact a kind, gentle soul, and
eminently fair. When angered however, he could be a frightening
presence, his size and booming rhetoric cowering the most
courageous opponent.

He was also
blessed with a gift for numbers and a sharp eye for business. The
consequence of these many blessings was great wealth. Though he and
his brother had been born into money and both received an excellent
education, it was Alfred who turned the small fortune he had
inherited into vast holdings, far exceeding his younger brother's
many successes.

But Alfred's
wealth meant little to him. He had lived the majority of his life
in sadness. His wife, Lady Margaret, died giving birth to a baby
girl. The infant was born weak and frail and soon fell victim to an
ailment that could not be identified. Alfred never fully recovered.
He found solace in his bright, beautiful niece, born just a few
months after the loss of his baby daughter.

Elizabeth had
curly auburn locks and bright green eyes, the same eyes as the
daughter he lost. The first time he saw the baby in his brother's
arms he fell in love. As she grew Alfred would insist that she
visit for weekends, and with the passing of time those weekend
visits became weeks, and then month long holidays.

She was a
precocious little thing, and the more mischievous she was the more
Alfred adored her. While he did not neglect the day to day running
of his empire, he would put matters aside whenever Elizabeth wanted
his attention. The first time the little girl wrapped her arms
around his neck and whispered into his ear, "I wuv you Unca Af,"
his heart melted and he silently sobbed into her soft, sweet
smelling hair.

As the
carriage rumbled along, Elizabeth was reliving favourite memories
of her wonderful Uncle. It almost felt appropriate that she should
be suffering physical discomfort, the bouncy journey playing havoc
with her blistered bottom. She had neglected him this past year and
she was overcome with guilt. She imagined the sting in her bottom
had been delivered for her oversight, and she welcomed the rasping
smart as the carriage bobbed along on its journey.