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Emma Beaumont woke up thirsty.
For a long moment she lay still beneath her blankets, listening to the silence of the house. The fire in the nursery had almost died out, flickering softly, and the little clock on the mantel was ticking relentlessly.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking intently at the door, deciding what she should do.
The Nurse told her to wake her if she needed anything. That she shouldn’t go walking around the house at the dead of night.
But she was a very brave little girl. 5-years-old shouldn’t need their Nurse to do everything for them. Especially not for something stupid like getting a glass of water.
She could do it. She was a big girl.
She padded quietly out of her room, barefoot, her white nightgown hanging loosely from her shoulders. The floor felt cold despite the rug that covered the hallway and she was deeply regretting not putting on her slippers that were resting by the foot of her bed. The Nurse would be very cross with her for this. She was very insistent that she always wear some kinds of shoes. Emma briefly considered going back for them but a creaking sound came from around her room making her freeze for a moment and making her decide that they were not worth it.
The house was dark. The lights of the house had all been put out for the night. The moonlight coming from outside did not cast nearly enough light. The huge, old, oak tree in the garden cast a weird, scary-looking shadow on the wall. The floorboards of the stairs squealed with every step she took. The way to the kitchen had never seemed this long.
Emma was terrified but kept going. With every step she took her resolve to do it alone grew. Her big brothers would surely be able to do this alone. And she was determined to not to fall behind her brothers.
She made it down halfway down the stairs, when something thudded softly below. She froze, wide-eyed. Heart throbbing in her chest, she took another step down, breathing deeply. She heard the sounds again. The pantry door moving and more footsteps. It must be her imagination, she tried to calm herself down. Mama and Papa always said she had a wild imagination.
Emma swallowed and rushed down the stairs as quickly and silently as she could, knowing that if she stayed another moment on the stairs she would turn back and run to her parents’ room. She wanted to avoid this possibility at all cost, not only would she fail on her little quest of behaving maturely but she would probably get a scolding for not waking up the Nurse or them.
She took the last few steps toward the door of the kitchen that was slightly ajar, knowing that the Cook would never leave it open like that, and peered into the kitchen anxiously but curiously. A little candle was illuminating the whole place.
Then she saw him.
A boy.
She let out a tiny gasp, that, thankfully, was quiet enough not to alert the boy of her presence. She leaned closer, putting her left hand on the doorframe to get a better look. Her right hand was hovering near the door.
The boy definitely looked older than John, but even older than Nicholas too. He was much more scruffy looking too. Unlike his brothers, whose clothes, thanks to Mama’s high expectations of appearance, were mostly in pristine conditions, the boy's clothes were half torn and way too small. He looked thin and dirty too. He was putting food from the shelves of the pantry, that was connecting to the kitchen, into his worn satchel.
As Emma was trying to lean more forward to get a better look at the strange boy, her hand accidentally pushed open the door fully, squeaking loudly, startling them both. The boy whirled around with a piece of bread still in his hands, looking frantic. He took a step in Emma’s direction, putting the bread in his bag, holding up both of his hands in a placating gesture.
Emma did the only sensible thing a 5-year-old little girl could do in a situation like this and screamed at the tops of her lungs.
The boy winced but whether from the blood curdling scream itself or the fact that he knew he was busted, no one knew.
The next minute was a whirlwind of movement. The kitchen was soon filled with people. A proper light had been lit. Everyone looked like they just rolled out of bed, because they did. Some looked curious, some annoyed. Emma, now surrendered by people she knew, and knowing that she will be protected, turned into her Mama’s arms crying softly, no longer feeling brave. She was just an exhausted little girl, up well after her bedtime. The Nurse moved next to them drawing circles on her back, gently admonishing her for her lack of footwear.
The boy stayed rooted in place through all the commotion, until a man stepped up to him.
“What’s your name, boy?” The man asked, sharply.
“I didn’t mean any harm, please, believe me.” The boy’s voice wavered. He seemed to have realized just how dire his situation was.
“I haven’t yet asked what you were doing, have I? I asked for your name, didn’t I?” The man repeated firmly, eyes boring into him.
“Henry, sir.” The boy replied, in a small voice. Obeying seemed like a wonderful idea at the moment.
“Henry,” the man repeated. “I am William Beaumont. I am the head of this family.” He introduced himself to Henry. It was only proper after all. “What are you doing in my kitchen?”
“I meant no harm, sir. Really, sir. Believe me, sir, please.” Repeating himself from a moment earlier.
“Oh, really, is that so? Then why is your satchel full of my food?” William asked challengingly, looking pointedly at the threadbare bag hanging on Henry’s shoulder, with the piece of bread sticking out of it, among other things.
“Please, sir.” Henry begged. He knew what this looked like, and well, if he was honest, it was exactly what it looked like. He was also very aware of the consequences of stealing and breaking into homes at night. He did not want to be dragged away by the parish constable and thrown into the gaol. A public whipping would be bad enough. If they chose to call what he had done burglary, however, the punishment might be far worse, and he didn’t even want to think about it. He would gladly give back every scrap of food he took if it meant he could get out of the house and, at least for a few days, out of the city as well.
“How old are you? You can’t be older than 14. Where are your parents? Are they aware that they are raising a thief?” William questioned Henry, who was now fidgeting with his hands, clearly anxious.
“I will just give back the food and get out of here, sir.” Henry pleaded. He felt his throat closing up, but he refused to cry in front of everyone, even now that the crowd had thinned to what Henry thought was only the Beaumonts, plus 2 servants.
“I asked you a question, young man.” William was beginning to lose patience with the boy standing before him. Still, he had to give him some credit. At least he knew how to address an adult properly, and he continued to hold William’s gaze. That was something.
The boy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m 15 years old and an orphan, sir.”
“I see. Very well. Remain here. I shall send for the parish constable.” William said, then turned around, intending to do just as he had declared.
This made Henry move instantly. He caught William’s hand from behind, causing him to turn sharply back around. “No. Please, sir. No. Don’t call the parish constable. I will give back the food. Here.” Henry began emptying the contents of his bag with remarkable speed. There was a surprising amount inside, considering the satchel’s small size.
William opened his mouth to answer, when the woman who was cuddling the little girl, who had screamed bloody murder and made everyone aware of his presence, spoke up. “Don’t be ridiculous, William. He is a child. He is clearly in need of a warm meal, a bath and a full night's sleep.”
“He is a thief, Anna. Don’t coddle him. He knows better.” William shot back.
“That may be so, but look at him properly, William.” Anna said, her voice quiet but it had a steely edge.
William’s gaze moved unwillingly towards Henry. He could clearly see what Anna was referring to. The boy’s cheeks were hollow. His shirt had a tear in it. His whole frame was narrow. His boot had a hole in it.
“He did not break into our home because he fancied our gold.” Anna continued. “He is starving.”
“He is also a thief.” William replied. “One who entered a house in the middle of the night and frightened our daughter half to death.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten her, sir. I thought everyone was asleep.” Henry explained quickly. “There. This is everything I took. I didn’t eat anything.”
“This does not help your situation, Henry.” William responded dryly, surveying the food that was now all laid out on the table. He turned to the male servant that stayed in the kitchen. “Thomas, please, put these back.”
“Yes, sir.” The man, who Henry assumed must have worked in the kitchen for the family, jumped to work.
William looked at the other servant, whose hand was still on the little girl’s back. “Margaret, please take the children upstairs and make sure they are asleep.”
Margaret took the little girl from her mother’s arms, and placed a hand on the younger boy's shoulder, trying to steer him out of the kitchen. The boy, however, stubbornly stopped.
“Will the thief be hanged, Father?” He questioned hesitantly.
“Don’t be stupid, John. People don’t get hanged for this.” The older boy answered in a snobbish, know-it-all voice, that made the younger one glare at him.
“That is enough Nicholas, don’t call your brother stupid.” William scolded, before addressing the other boy. “Your brother, however, is right. Now, get up upstairs and obey Margaret."
The other servant also made his escape, leaving only Henry, WIlliam and Anna in the kitchen.
“When did you last eat?” Anna asked.
Henry hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Yesterday morning, ma’am.”
Anna’s lip thinned and she walked to the pantry and handed an apple to Henry. “Eat it.”
Henry’s gaze flickered toward William for permission, who nodded his head. It was no use to try to fight against his wife. If she wanted something, she got it.
Henry hungrily bit into the apple. “Thank you.” He uttered between bites.
William watched impassively as Henry ate the apple, a thought formulating in his head.
When Henry finished the apple and threw out the core, William spoke up. “Stealing is among the worst crimes someone could commit in my opinion. However, I can see that my wife was right. You did not attempt to steal with malicious intent. You are young, scared and hungry. Nevertheless, this does not undo what you did. So I have an offer for you.” William stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath.
Henry stared at the man, unblinkingly, waiting for the offer intently.
“You could submit to a punishment from me for this.”
Henry let out a sigh. “You mean you’d beat me.” He replied in a flat tone. He was painfully familiar with that kind of punishment. Fists, boots and blows that did not stop until he was curled on the floor, bruised black and blue. He had gotten many beatings in the orphanage before finally running away.
“I mean I would administer a sound corporal punishment.” William said evenly. “I would deal with you as I would with any boy your age who committed trespassing and thievery in my household.” He left a moment for Henry to absorb his words. “I would take you to my study. You would pull down your pants and underwear and bend over the chair. Then I would severely cane you.”
Henry looked stricken at the description. This somehow sounded worse than the beatings he had endured at the orphanage and by the hands of angry shop owners occasionally.
“Or I can send for the parish constable, and the law decides what becomes of you.” William continued. “The choice is yours, Henry.” He finished.
“If I choose the first option…” Henry swallowed. “Would you let me go afterwards?” he asked.
“You would spend the night here, and have breakfast with us in the morning, then yes, you would be free to go.” He agreed.
Henry now looked at Anna, who nodded her reassurance and encouragement.
“I'm choosing your punishment, sir.” Henry whispered, breaking eye contact. No matter what William said, he knew how these things went. He would be beaten. But it was still the preferable option.
“Very well. Anna, if you would like, you can head to bed. I can deal with this alone.” He kissed her deeply. He knew that she hated when one of their own children got punished, and he guessed that she would prefer not to hear Henry’s punishment either.
“Oh no, dear. I'll make a proper dinner for Henry, of course.” She smiled sweetly and got out a few more things from the pantry. ”I will get the guest room ready, and take the food there.”
William signed heavily. There was no disagreeing with Anna in mother hen mode.
“Let’s go, Henry.” He gestured at the boy to follow him, and Henry did so without protest.
William led him out of the kitchen, through the enormous formal dining room, and drawing room. If it wasn't so dark, and Henry wasn't so afraid, he would have been amazed. He had never been at such a grand place.
William opened the door to his study, and gestured Henry in, then lit up the lights and fireplace. Warmth spread in the cold room. Henry stood frozen in the middle of the room, as William was moving around. The study was filled with bookshelves full of books and parchments. The desk in the middle was covered in parchments and ink pots. William moved one of the chairs close to where Henry was standing.
“Alright Henry, you can put your satchel on the desk then drop your pants and underwear to your ankles and assume the position.” William’s voice startled Henry, and he jumped slightly. Where was the uncontrolled rage? This was not how it went at the orphanage. Henry had assumed that once Anna was no longer there, William would beat him and then be done with it. He was extremely confused.
“Now, if you please, Henry. Or I can still call for the parish constable, if you changed your mind.”
Henry shook his head quickly. “No, sir.” He stepped to the desk and placed his bag on it, then walked back to the back of the chair. He had to steel himself to push down his rather dirty and worn pants to his ankles, but after a moment of hesitation he did so with shaky fingers. He hastily pushed his underwear down too before he could have lost his nerve. He blushed deeply and promptly bent over the chair.
William stepped up to him, placing his hand on the small of his back, and gently pushed Henry’s shirt up, so nothing was covering his backside. “Grab the edge, it will be easier to hold on.” He instructed. “Now during the course of your entire punishment, you will keep your hand on the chair and won’t try to infer with your punishment, by putting them back. You may cry and squirm, but you keep it to a minimum and keep your position. You may raise your foot but there won’t be any wild kicking. Violation of these rules will gain you additional strokes at the end. At the end you may only rise when I give you permission. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Henry replied tightly. He was acutely aware that his bent over position placed his backside in prime spanking position.
“Very well. I will give you a warm up first.” Keeping one hand firmly against Henry’s back—partly to hold him in place and partly to steady him—William brought the other down sharply.
Henry bit down on his tongue at the first smack. It was harsh, but far from the worst he had ever endured. A matching swat landed on his other cheek and he breathed deeply.
The smacks steadily kept coming down one after another. At first Henry bore them in relative silence. This pain was nothing compared to what he was used to. He was determined to not cry, despite the clog in his throat. He never cried at the orphanage either. Why was this such a different feeling?
William could tell when the punishment began to take effect. Henry’s breathing grew less even, and he shifted despite his determination to remain perfectly still. Taking that as his cue, William moved lower, directing the next few smacks towards the tender sit spots.
Henry, who was not expecting the spanks to hurt that much, lifted his right foot instinctively from the floor, though he remembered William’s instructions quickly enough to stop himself from kicking backwards.
William continued at the same deliberate pace, alternating sides and giving Henry enough time to register each swat before the next arrived. His other hand remained steady against the young man’s back, preventing him from rising accidentally.
Henry tightened his grip on the chair’s edge. He had prepared himself for uncontrolled blows, insults and not knowing when the beating would end. Instead, William remained maddeningly calm. Every strike was measured. He couldn't disappear into his head. At the orphanage, he could just disassociate from the beating, until the men were done with him.
A particularly firm swat drew a small sound from Henry before he could bite it back. Then another few that made him yelp. William stood back for the moment. Henry’s backside took a red-ish hue, with a few of his handprints visible. “Stay bent over. Now is time for your caning.”
He stepped away and Henry was filled with dread. So now was the time for the real punishment. Now would come the rage. He was certain of it. He was unable to see anything other than the seat of the chair. He did not dare lift his head. However, he could hear William walking over to his desk and reaching down, opening a drawer and pulling out something from it.
William closed the bottom drawer he retrieved the cane from. It was nearly the length of his forearm and no thicker than his pinky finger. It was polished smooth. The handle curved neatly at one end. William tested it once through the air, producing a thin, unmistakable whistle, making Henry’s stomach drop.
William walked back to Henry’s side. He rested the cane on the presented backside, making it clench in anticipation.
“Why are you getting caned, Henry?” William questioned.
“Because I attempted to steal from you, sir.” Henry answered respectfully, sensing that the best course of action was complying and answering the question.
The first stroke cut through the air with a thin hiss and landed sharply across the fullest part of his backside.
Henry’s whole body jolted. For a heartbeat there was nothing, then a fierce, narrow line of fire erupted across his backside. His foot left the floor before he forced it down again.
William placed the cane gently against him, measuring the next stroke just below the first one. It was just as horrible as the first one. The cane rose and fell again. Henry yelped loudly, desperately shifting in place, trying to shake off the burn.
William paused, resting the cane once more across Henry’s backside. “What else?”
Henry had to control his breathing before he was able to answer properly. “I broke in, sir.”
The cane lifted once more. Henry strengthened his grip on the chair, now knowing exactly what to expect, not that it made it any easier to bear. Another stroke followed. Henry was startled to realize that the seat of the chair was wet with his tears. He had no idea when he had started crying.
There was a pause again. “You have also frightened Emma, however since you had no intention of doing so, I will not punish you for it. What else could you have done differently?”
Henry was confused by the question. He did not want to give the wrong answer, but he also didn’t know the correct one. “I don’t know, sir.” He whispered anxiously, closing his eyes.
“You could have knocked on my door and asked for food or a job here. Even if, for whatever reason, I sent you away, which I assure you would not have happened, I’m not in the habit of turning away starving children, Anna would have helped.” He replied patiently. “Do you understand? Taking what is not yours is never the correct answer."
“Yes, sir.” Henry breathed his understanding.
William lifted the cane again, bringing it down precisely to where he was aiming for. Another stroke followed, landing cleanly across Henry's lower cheeks, tearing a sob out of the young man’s throat. His shoulders were shaking from the force of his crying.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I will never do anything like this again, I promise.” Henry choked out before fully giving into his tears.
No words were exchanged during the rest of the punishment. The only sounds in the room was the cane swishing through the air again and again, connecting with Henry's backside and the boy’s responding yelps and cries. Each stroke was measured and separated by enough time for him to catch his breath and for the full sting to take effect. He was desperately hanging on the chair, his legs shifting relentlessly trying to shake the pain off.
The final strokes were delivered with the same measured control as those before them, on Henry’s sit post and thighs.
William looked over the sobbing boy. He was desperately clinging to the chair, awaiting the next stroke. He was aware that this was a harsh caning for the teenager to bear, yet was doing an admirable job. William considered himself an expert caner. The boy’s whole backside was covered with red lines that were perfectly straight and evenly placed, never crossing each other. “It’s over. Stay over the chair until I give you permission."
He barely heard the words over his own sobs, too consumed by the pain in his backside. As soon as their meaning registered, however, he tried to calm himself. He was reeling from the fact that the man hadn’t lost his control during the punishment. That there was no unnecessary harshness. It was both the worst and best punishment he ever got. He had to stay present and feel every stroke he got, but he also felt safe.
William returned the cane to its place, before giving Henry permission to stand. He directed the still sobbing boy to the corner. “Alright, stay here for a few minutes. Take control of yourself. No rubbing.” He squeezed Henry’s shoulder slightly, before moving away, leaving the boy to face the corner alone.
He placed the chair, the boy had been bent over, back to its place. He took a seat in his chair behind his desk turning so he could observe the boy. He stood perfectly still for a few minutes, before starting to restlessly shift in place. Whether from the want to rub or from boredom he couldn’t tell.
“You conducted yourself far better than I expected,” William said at last. “Particularly if, as I suspect, this was your first experience with a caning like this. Most young men lose their composure almost immediately. They reach back, rise without permission, try to completely twist away or kick back. You did none of those things. You obeyed every instruction, even when it became difficult to do so. That is something you should be proud of. Not many men have the courage to do what you did.”
Henry didn’t know how to react, so he stayed silent, but the words filled him with unexpected warmth.
Silence fell again until William unexpectedly broke it again. He didn’t have all the details yet and he was curious. “When did you sneak in?”
Henry hesitated, shifting slightly. “During the changing of the watch, sir. One man had already left his post, and the other had not yet reached it.”
William hummed. “I see. That is something I will have to rectify. Thank you for being honest.”
Another few minutes of silence. Henry was now completely calm. His crying was now reduced to only occasional sniffles. He just wanted the punishment to end completely. He felt embarrassed standing there with his freshly caned backside.
William interrupted the silence again. “Out of curiosity, Henry… Would you have stolen anything else?”
Henry cleared his throat, deciding that honesty is probably the best policy. “Well if I found anything that is easily removable that could be sold quickly and for a lot of money without being easy to recognize, I guess I would have. Or if I found some money. Sir.” He hastily added.
William nodded his head, not that Henry could see it. “Let’s not mention this to Anna.” He concluded.
“Yes, sir.” Henry smiled slightly despite himself.
Just as Henry grew restless again, William called him out of the corner. “Pull your pants and underwear up and stand in front of my desk.”
Henry immediately complied. As much as he didn’t wish to have anything against his battered backside, he hated being half-naked even more.
William also came around his desk, holding out a handkerchief to him. “I trust you learned your lesson.”
Henry graciously took it and mopped up his face a bit. “Yes, sir. I will never do anything like this ever again.” He reached back and rubbed his aching backside, not caring how it made him look. It hurt and he was desperate to shoot it.
“Very well, then we should go to the bedroom. I’m sure Anna is anxious to see that I haven’t murdered you.”
“You murdered my backside.” Henry muttered under his breath, then froze waiting for William’s reaction. How could he be so stupid? Why was he making jokes like this? Was he completely out of his mind?
Thankfully, William’s mouth curved upward but he didn’t say anything to Henry’s joke.
He led the boy through the hallways. He knew exactly which guest room Anna must have prepared. The one closest to their own bedroom. He led Henry through a few hallways before arriving at the door. And just as he predicted, when he opened it, there sat Anna on the bed. She immediately jumped up and checked Henry over. When she was satisfied that Henry was visibly alright beside his puffy cheeks and red eyes, she gestured at some clothes she laid out on the bed. “I hope these are the right size. Through that room, you will find the wash room. Go change.”
“These are great, ma’am. Thank you.” Henry whispered thankfully. William was absolutely right. If he had just knocked on the door in the daytime asking for some food or job, Anna would have absolutely helped him. He left to change, leaving the couple behind.
Anna immediately turned on her husband. “So how was it? You didn’t hurt him too much, right? You were gone for far too long.”
“For God’s sake, Anna. I gave the boy exactly what he deserved. I gave him a warm up spanking with my hand, and then caned him severely. Followed by a few minutes in the corner. I didn’t kill him.”
Anna’s eyes turned icy. “For your information, I would never be a divorcee, only a widow.”
William shifted slightly. His wife sometimes freaked him out. “So I assume you already have plans on how to keep the boy here with us.”
She smiled sweetly. “Of course I do. Leave that up to me.” Just as she finished the sentence, Henry came out of the washroom fully dressed.
“They fit great, thank you.” He yawned slightly, now that all the excitement was over, he was just bone-deep tired.
“I prepared a meal, it’s on the desk. If you prefer we can leave you alone now. I will come and wake you in time for the morning meal.” She gently brushed his cheeks with her hand. Henry slightly leaned into it, without meaning to.
“Good night, honey, sleep well.” Anna whispered warmly. “Our door is right next door. Don’t hesitate to wake us if you need anything.”
“Good night, Henry.” William said before exiting the door, ushering Anna with him.
“Good night.” Henry repeated.
Now he was faced with a dilemma. He was ready to fall into bed but he was also extremely hungry. He decided that sleep could wait for a few minutes. He remained standing as he ate. There was no chance he was attempting to sit down just yet. He quickly shoveled the food in his mouth, while silently praying that his empty stomach would tolerate it. It was a delicious yet simple meal, some meat with rice. But it was fancier than anything he ate in weeks.
Finally, he fell into bed. It was the softest bed he had ever slept in, and practically divine compared to the hard ground he slept on the last few days. He could hardly believe it, but despite the lingering burn in his backside, he felt safer than he had in a very long time. The thought that he would have to leave in the morning filled him with an unexpected ache.