In Need of Training: A Victorian Romance Read online

  In Need of Training

  Samantha Madisen

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  More Stormy Night Books by Samantha Madisen

  Copyright © 2021 by Stormy Night Publications and Samantha Madisen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Madisen, Samantha

  In Need of Training

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by Shutterstock/Charnushevich Tatsiana, Shutterstock/Petar Djordjevic, and Shutterstock/Ali Hammad Khan

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Chapter 1

  “It is so very good to see you again, Rupert,” Douglas said, adjusting himself in his chair. He was a portly man and the armchair could barely contain him.

  “I wholly agree,” Dr. Rupert Dobson replied, raising his snifter in a toast. The trip from London had been long and tiring. The delicious dinner that had greeted him, along with the drink and now the roaring hearth in front of him, were all conspiring to make him quite sleepy. But the hour was not too late and he first wanted to hear why Douglas had written for his assistance. “It is a pleasure to get away from the city. Made all the better by the pleasure of your company. But now that we’ve finished with our victuals and, might I add, what a fine repast it was…”

  “Mrs. Hedgepot is an excellent cook,” Douglas said, patting his round stomach.

  “Indeed,” Rupert agreed, smiling. “But now that we’ve finished might I inquire as to why you summoned me? Your letter was a little… enigmatic. I was worried that perhaps something had happened.”

  Douglas’s expression darkened into a scowl. He let out a great gust of air and shook his jowls. His face turned a little red. “Something has happened,” he said with great gravitas.

  “Oh?” Rupert asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Ms. Emma Thorncliffe has come of age,” Douglas explained.

  “Oh,” Rupert replied, somewhat puzzled by why this would be a problem. A moment’s thought brought with it an idea. He hesitated, not wanting to make assumptions. Still, it wouldn’t do to pretend that he was in any way interested in a romantic arrangement of any kind. Not at this time in his life with his career just beginning. “Douglas,” he began, then paused to choose his words carefully. “I am afraid that at this juncture I’m not currently seeking a wife,” he said, hoping he hadn’t offended even before the conversation had begun.

  “What?” Douglas barked, looking perplexed. He shook his head and snorted a great harrumph. “No, no,” he said. He waved his hands in the air. “No, no, no, no. You misunderstood me. Emma Thorncliffe has come of age and with that the temper she’d been plagued by as a child has turned her into a terror.”

  Rupert’s eyes widened. “A terror?” he asked.

  “An unholy terror,” Douglas growled.

  “Oh, my,” Rupert said. “That is of grave concern.”

  “This was to be her second season, Rupert,” Douglas went on. He leaned forward, struggling to fit his belly between his lap and his chest. “But I’ll be damned if I’m sending her to the city in this state. She’s utterly un-marriable. She has an absolutely preposterous idea of how a lady should behave. Speaks to me like I’m an infant. An infant? No. A dog, perhaps.” He scratched his chin. “Though I would never behave that way toward a dog, come to think of it. But never mind. I’ve tried to be stern with her. I’ve said some very harsh things. Things I never thought I’d say to a young woman.” He paused and shook his head at the recollection. “You know how she reacted?”

  “I don’t,” Rupert admitted.

  “She laughed at me,” Douglas confessed. “Laughed with such sarcastic mirth that it took all of my will power not to slap her across the face.”

  “Did you slap her elsewhere?” Rupert inquired.

  Douglas’s eyes widened. His face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I most certainly did not! How dare you…”

  Rupert held up a hand, silencing his friend. “I did not mean to offend,” he said solemnly. “I am merely engaging in scientific inquiry, Douglas. That you did not raise a hand against her in anger is commendable. Might I ask another question, begging your patience.”

  Douglas soothed his ruffled feathers with a shrug, a grunt, and a nod. “Go on then,” he said.

  “As you raised the girl did you implement a regimen of corporal punishment for her misbehavior?”

  Douglas, still looking perturbed by the previous exchange, let out a huff of air. “I did not,” he said.

  Rupert gave a nod. “Please, continue.”

  “I don’t know if there is much more to say,” Douglas said. “I am at my wits’ end and see no end of this in sight. At this point it looks like she will be a spinster here with me until I am on my death bed. There is not a single man in Kempton that will take her. She is a comely woman. But her dowry is…” Mr. Fenwick trailed off.

  Rupert read the story in his troubled face. It was common enough. Large estates like Mr. Fenwick’s often provided a facade for what was, effectively, poverty. One could not show such poverty to the world of high society, of course, and so many an estate was an expensive facade, behind which once-wealthy families scrambled to appear wealthy while struggling in reality.

  “Tell me, then, what you think the reason for this behavior might be?” Rupert asked gently, diplomatically trying to change the subject. There was no need to discuss Mr. Fenwick’s financial affairs, and the man had already paid Rupert half of his fee.

  Douglas cleared his throat with a cough. He took in a slow, deep breath then let it out in an even slower exhale. “The girl is incorrigible,” he said, growling the last word. “Girl,” he went on. “I should say woman. Nineteen years and in her second season. Pleasing to the eye, as I mentioned. And whip smart. That, I daresay, is all of the problem.”

  A soft smile stretched across Rupert’s mouth. He’d heard the story currently unfolding countless times. The exhausted, hopeless look Douglas wore was not new to him, either. “Impertinent?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Impossible,” Douglas replied. He tipped his glass back and swallowed what remained of his sherry. “I am not of the opinion that women are to be seen and not heard, Rupert. Not at all. But this is going too far.”

  “How so?” Rupert asked.

  Douglas rearranged himself in his fireside chair yet again and pulled at the lapels of his smoking jacket. “I have had a half dozen very eligible gen
tlemen up to meet her. No small feat given the distance to the city and her lack of dowry. Each and every one has ever so delicately insinuated their disinterest after, at most, a quarter of an hour with Ms. Thorncliffe.”

  Rupert nodded solemnly. “Is she rude?” he asked.

  “Shrewdly so,” Douglas replied. “She is clever enough to know the sway her appearances hold over men. They show great interest at first.”

  “And then?”

  “And then she cuts them.”

  Rupert’s eyes widened for a moment. “Cuts them?” he muttered.

  “With her delicately sharp tongue,” Douglas explained.

  Rupert had to chuckle.

  Douglas locked eyes with him. “Two fortnights ago, in the evening, Mrs. Hedgepot went to take Emma her evening milk. She found her chambers empty and, of course, came running to me in a panic. The whole house was awoken and a search was begun. And you will not guess what, after a good hour of calling and crawling through stables and woods past the glen, we found.”

  Rupert steepled his fingers, leaned back in his chair, and tipped his head back ever so slightly. “I might try to guess,” he said.

  “Please do!” Douglas said.

  “You found the young woman in a somewhat compromised position with some young man.”

  Douglas’s jaw dropped.

  Without waiting for further reaction, Rupert went on. “Were your estate closer to the city I would guess some rake or another for whom she was lifting her skirts. Given your lovely location in the countryside I would venture to say the farmhand or stable boy from two barns down the road. Have I got it right?” He couldn’t suppress the half-smile that curled one corner of his mouth.

  “By God, Rupert, but how could you know that?” Douglas asked, astonished. He went on without waiting for an answer. “Well, no matter. Even if you managed to guess that right you will not believe where we found her indulging these indecencies.”

  “I would say in the forest somewhere or perhaps behind a stack of hay bales out in the field?”

  Douglas’s eyes opened wider still. “How in the blazes… but you are right again! There she was with her skirts up under the open sky. Like an animal!”

  Rupert picked up his drink and lubricated his throat with the rest of it. He resisted the smile that was threatening to form on his mouth again. Douglas was clearly upset. It would be rude to make light of the situation.

  Setting his glass back down, he folded one hand over the other on his lap. “And so you summoned me?”

  “You are certainly aware of the write-up in the Telegraph about your fledgling practice,” Douglas said, seemingly with some shame.

  This time Rupert allowed himself a smile. “I certainly am. They were very generous.”

  Douglas looked at him from out of the corner of his eye. “And so, naturally, after reading about your… methods,” he cleared his throat again, now clearly embarrassed, “I thought it would make sense to inquire about whether you could help us here.”

  Rupert gave a nod. “Give what you have described I am certain that I can,” he said.

  Douglas looked at him with cautious optimism. “I must admit that I was somewhat embarrassed while reading the piece,” he said. “They did not go into great detail about your approach, though I gathered that you employ physical corrections in your treatments?”

  Rupert had seen the expression Douglas was wearing many times before. Many a guardian found such sensitive subjects difficult to broach. “I do,” he replied. “If you’ll humor me I can elucidate further, then you can decide whether you approve and whether you would like to retain me for my services.”

  “Of course, of course,” Douglas said, gesticulating. “Please do.”

  “Very well,” Rupert said. “Let me start by saying that the nature of this plight was brought to my attention toward the end of my medical studies under Dr. Barlow. You may have heard of his research into the reasons for female misbehavior?”

  “Vaguely,” Douglas muttered.

  “Well, it is not crucial that you are familiar with his body of work. It will suffice for you to know that while his approach was largely academic, I became interested in the more practical applications of such knowledge.”

  Douglas raised an eyebrow.

  Rupert settled into his seat. “It is a commonly known fact that at a certain age all young men and women, unless impeccably raised, are at the mercy of their passions, wouldn’t you say?”

  Douglas gave a begrudging harrumph in agreement.

  “Young men we put to work. If they break the law we throw them in jail. With young women, however, the situation is more delicate. How many a young lady do you think goes uncorrected for misbehavior?”

  Douglas stared blankly, unsure of what to say.

  “A great many, I assure you. Not many a man wants to take the switch to a young girl’s bottom and not many a governess is given permission to do so. And so these girls very quickly learn that if they want to, they can get away with a great many things.”

  Douglas’s eyes lit up, as if he was connecting it all together.

  “And then,” Rupert went on, “they come of age and their sexual desires are awakened. Suddenly the problem is two-pronged. A lusty young woman who has not been taught to control her tongue and is now at the mercy of her natural instincts.”

  Douglas’s eyes bugged wider still.

  “I took Dr. Barlow’s work and decided that, as there must be a cure for every disease, so too must there be a solution to this problem. You see, Douglas, these young women require discipline. Discipline in the form of regular corrections for misbehavior. They also require training in mastery over their budding sexual proclivities. I operate at the intersection of those two hypotheses. I am at once disciplinarian and instructor. I teach the young lady not to lift her skirts for every Thomas, Richard, and Harry who smiles at her. She learns, instead, that she will have one natural master in her life: her husband. She is instructed in the manner of pleasing a man, staying chaste and, if we have time, good taste in all things as well.” He paused a moment to allow Douglas to digest what he’d said.

  Douglas stared at him in disbelief and shook his head. “By God, Rupert, you’re talking sense,” he said, stunned. “But does this method work?”

  “I’m glad you think so,” Rupert replied, smiling. “As for the efficacy of the method I have, so far, found it to be infallible.”

  “You don’t say?” Douglas whispered.

  “I do so humbly,” Rupert offered. “It is our great failure as a society that we leave these women to their whims. To be exploited by the more immoral among us. To allow them to fall into the arms of those who seek only to use their cunnies then dispose of them when they are no longer a convenience. A tragedy, really.”

  “I had never thought of it that way,” Douglas muttered, staring at the carpet. He looked up at Rupert with a great sadness in his eyes and on his countenance. “I have failed her, haven’t I?”

  Rupert waved away his concern. “You mustn’t blame yourself, old friend. You, as most guardians I have dealt with, I am confident have tried to do your best by the girl. Would you say so?”

  “I’ve tried everything, dear Rupert,” Douglas replied.

  “Everything you believed you had at your disposal,” Rupert added.

  “And yet I missed something.” Douglas said morosely.

  “Again, do not blame yourself, Douglas. You had your reasons for forgoing corporal punishment, I’m sure,” Rupert said.

  Douglas sighed. “I was but her guardian, Rupert. Were she a lad I would have had no trouble bringing a cane down on his arse. But a girl? Yet alone, a woman? I haven’t the stomach for it.”

  “A perfectly valid reason,” Rupert said. “And the reason so many of the women whose course I am summoned to correct have strayed from the path of virtue.”

  Douglas regarded him with a doubtful expression. “And you find that these… these corrections really have the intended effect?”
>
  “As I mentioned, I have yet to meet a patient I couldn’t cure,” Rupert said, unable to keep a note of pride out of his voice.

  Douglas snorted in disbelief. “That is astonishing. The last month has been one long lament for me. I tried as best I could to raise the girl. I was in turns livid and utterly despairing about how she’s turned out.” He looked at Rupert with hope in his eyes. “Believe me when I say that hearing this fills me with great promise. If you can do what you say you can, it may well mean I won’t have to live out my years ruminating over my failures with young Emma.”

  Rupert offered a sincere smile and leaned forward in his chair. “You have my assurance that you will not,” he said, patting Douglas on the knee.

  Douglas looked sideways, then back at Rupert out of the corner of his eye.

  Again, Rupert knew the look. “You would like to know exactly what the method entails?” he asked.

  “I worry you might think I have a crooked mind for wanting to know,” he muttered.

  Rupert let out a hearty laugh. “Absolutely not!” Douglas’s description of the young woman’s plight had chased away the tiredness he’d felt moments ago. “In fact I find that often a public correction can do what ten private sessions cannot. There is no secrecy about my work.”

  “Fascinating,” Douglas said, looking at him squarely again. “You wouldn’t cane a young woman though, would you?”

  “That all depends on the severity of the affliction,” Rupert explained. “In serious cases I have no compunction whatsoever about using a crop or cane to discipline an errant young woman. If the situation calls for milder measures, a simple clap or two on the bottom with an open hand might suffice. It is contingent on the woman’s temperament.”