The Solicitation Page 8

  Alice continued to stare at herself in the mirror whilst one of the uniformed female staff put her hair into ringlets with the curling iron. Alice had been helped into a short, pale blue smocked dress with ruffles along the short sleeves and the drop waist. With such a short dress Alice insisted she wear white tights, but the maid who had picked out her clothing told her Brayden wanted her in white knee socks. So Alice wore white knee socks and her black t-strap dress shoes.

  The maid finished curling Alice’s hair and then tied a moderately sized pale blue bow on one side, holding back some of the curls from her face. Alice stood up and walked to the full-length mirror. She looked even younger than she had a few days before! She was still ten in Brayden’s eyes, but felt positively infantile. She shook her head.

  “This is going too far, I seriously can’t wear this,” Alice said, pulling the dress down in an effort to make it hang lower over her exposed thighs and the ruffled bloomers that teased from beneath.

  “You must, Miss Alice. Your father is expecting you at breakfast in five minutes,” she advised, before tidying the dressing table and leaving the bedroom.

  Alice didn’t have a nanny and so only she would be entirely to blame if she was late, yet understandably, no staff wanted to be the last one with Alice just in case they were made responsible for not ushering her down on time.

  She quickly slipped out of the short, pale blue dress and changed it for the navy blue pinafore she had first tried on when Harriet came to pin pieces to her. She buttoned up the white shirt that featured navy blue piping, small navy blue buttons and a satin navy blue bow at the collar. Alice quickly slipped the navy blue pleated V-neck pinafore over her head and switched her hair bow from pale blue to navy blue. She left on her white knee socks and black patent shoes. The skirt hit Alice right above her knees and she felt incredibly more comfortable, despite she wouldn’t have originally wanted to wear such an outfit. She was glad her bloomers were no longer visible.

  “Good morning, father,” Alice said, when she reached his seat at the head of the table in the dining room, and kissed his cheek.

  “That’s not the dress I chose for you today,” Brayden said, straightaway.

  Alice went quiet.

  “Where is the pale blue dress they were supposed to put you in?” he asked.

  “I . . .” Alice started.

  “Never mind, clearly it’s not your fault. I shall have a serious word with the first floor maids. When I say I want you in a certain dress I expect you to be in it,” he said, in a tone that made Alice bite her tongue. She couldn’t bring herself to correct him for fear his wrath would turn to her.

  Breakfast finished and Brayden took Alice briskly by the hand up to the first floor where he knew the maids would be finishing their tasks before moving to the second floor.

  “Celia. I told whomever would help Alice this morning that I wanted her in the pale blue smocked dress, not the navy blue one,” Brayden said, indicating that Celia should take notice of the dress Alice was in.

  “Yes, Sir. I shall go and find the maid in question at once. I’m sorry for the disobedience, Sir. I assure you I will have a stern word. It shan’t happen again,” Celia said.

  “Very good. Now I shall dress Alice myself this morning. Come along,” Brayden said, and lead Alice by the hand down to her bedroom. The curtains had all been tied back, her bed made, fresh flowers distributed throughout the room in appropriate places and the fire revived. Brayden let go of Alice’s hand and walked toward her wardrobe and then suddenly stopped when he nearly trampled the pale blue smocked dress under his feet. He turned to look at Alice.

  “Might this be the very dress?” Brayden asked, suddenly realising the state it was on the floor couldn’t have been the maid’s doing. Alice immediately looked away.

  “Alice James, answer me this moment,” Brayden said, pointing at the dress.

  “Yes, Father,” Alice practically whispered, as she raised her eyes to meet his. She felt guilty for not having warned him beforehand that it was she who had changed her clothes.

  “Come here and pick it up,” Brayden said, sternly.

  Alice immediately obeyed.

  “Turn ‘round,” Brayden said.

  Alice turned, still holding the pale blue dress. Brayden unzipped the side of her navy blue pinafore and pulled it up and over her head. He then turned her to face him and unbuttoned her shirt. Alice’s hands quickly went up to cover her chest, which was covered by a thin white undershirt beneath the smart button-front one.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I am your father. Move your hands,” he said, and pulled them away. There wasn’t much of anything beneath the undershirt anyway, not that he would have taken notice had the case been otherwise.

  Brayden quickly helped Alice out of the button-front shirt and slipped the pale blue smocked dress over her head and pulled it down over her undershirt top. He turned Alice to face away from him so that he could do up the top two buttons at the back of her neck. Brayden then picked Alice up and carried her over to the window seat and laid her across his lap as he sat down.

  “Why am I in trouble?!?!” Alice demanded frantically, when she realised she was going to be smacked.

  “You lied to me, Alice. But you will never do so again after this, I assure you,” Brayden said, as he pulled up the pale blue dress and pulled down her bloomers while her white cotton knee socks and black patent shoes floated in mid-air.

  The abruptness with which Brayden had put Alice across his knee and proceeded to smack her sent a very clear message that she’d best not say a word. So she didn’t.

  Brayden used his bare hand to spank Alice ten times and then he waited a moment before giving her another ten, and another ten, and another ten. After forty, he redressed and then pulled a sobbing Alice off of his lap to stand in front of him.

  “Little girls who lie find they shan’t be able to sit down afterward,” Brayden said.

  “I didn’t lie, Father!” Alice protested, through her tears.

  Brayden’s eyebrows raised and he pulled Alice back over his knee and pulled down her bloomers again before laying another twenty harrowing smacks to her backside. Alice was completely and utterly useless to speak. She didn’t hold back and her sobs turned to yells, which could be heard throughout the first and second floor despite the size of the estate. Brayden wanted his staff to know how he would punish his daughter should she disobey him even under their watch. It reminded them as well just who was in charge.

  “Quiet down, Alice,” he said, as he pulled her off of his lap again and stood her in front of him. “You dare to argue with me,” he added.

  Alice shook her head, unable to say much between sobbing and gasping for breath.

  “I, I, didn’t think . . . I didn’t think I had lied,” Alice confessed, through her tears and irregular breathing.

  Brayden suddenly realised that his standards and Alice’s were on quite different levels. Whatever moral compass had been installed had clearly never been properly calibrated. No levelheaded person could knowingly withhold information about a situation and say that it indeed wasn’t lying.

  “What would you call it?” Brayden asked, standing up.

  “I don’t know,” Alice said, still sniffing and breathing heavily.

  “Sir,” Brayden said.

  “Yes, Sir,” Alice said, worried that she would receive another dose at any moment.

  “You were told what you were to wear this morning and then decided for yourself that you would change. You came down to breakfast and I asked you why you weren’t in the correct dress and you declined to comment. When we came upstairs and I told Celia the situation she was displeased and said she would discipline whoever had disregarded my orders. And the entire time, you knew that you had been the one who changed clothes and never once spoke up to defend the staff and tell me you changed the dress yourself. THAT is lying, Alice. If you try to tell me it’s not then you are more off the mark than I thought you were,” Brayden said, fol
ding his arms across his blazer.

  Alice wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands as fresh tears began to fall.

  “I didn’t think of it as lying, Sir. I’m sorry,” Alice said, continuing to wipe her eyes.

  “It most definitely is lying. Whoever suggests otherwise is also a liar,” he said.

  Brayden looked at Alice in her short, smocked dress, knee socks and patent shoes and felt she really did look every bit the part the age of a junior school girl. He hadn’t been pleased with her interpretation of morals and hoped Alice wouldn’t need to be taught the same lesson twice.

  “Yes, Father,” Alice said, feeling as though she had really learned a tough lesson. She hadn’t viewed the situation the same as Brayden had, but quickly realised she would need to if she were to be brought up by him.

  Brayden called Celia into his study whilst Alice faced the wall. He explained what had happened and Celia had to bring along the girl who had done Alice’s hair that morning. Brayden apologised to her for the telling off she received from Celia and assured her she wasn’t in any trouble.

  “Alice James, come here please,” he called. Alice turned and removed her hands from her head and walked across the study to Brayden, who faced both Celia and the female maid.

  “Have you anything to say to the staff?” Brayden asked, his arms folded across his three-piece suit as he nodded toward the female maid who had dressed Alice and curled her hair earlier that morning.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say it was me who changed my dress. I hadn’t meant to get you into trouble,” Alice said.

  Celia and the female maid reconciled with Alice and then Brayden dismissed them. Alice was once again made to stand in front of Brayden.

  “Can you tell me why you decided to change your dress, Alice? Surely you see now that it wasn’t worth it,” he said.

  “It’s too short, father. I feel like an infant and I look like one too,” Alice said, relieved to have been encouraged to be honest with him.

  “You are dressed exactly as I wish you to be. No friends of mine would expect to see any resident, much less my daughter, in anything less.”

  “Yes, Sir, I understand. It’s just this dress stops at my thighs and I’m wearing knee socks,” Alice started.

  “I know. I chose it. I had the dress made. I shan’t explain it to you anymore, Alice. The subject is closed. Now I want you to go back and face the wall. You need to think about what it means to wear the clothes your father chooses for you,” he said, nodding at the wall she had only moments before vacated.

  Alice gingerly walked across the study and returned to the wall, folding and placing her hands on top of her head. Brayden removed his blazer jacket and laid it neatly across the arm of his wing chair before returning across the room to his desk. His starch white shirt was a contrast to his navy blue braces, matching trousers and waistcoat. His cuff links were engraved, a gift from his mother on his 21st birthday. Something about seeing Alice face the wall, her lace bloomers peeking out from beneath her dress - even more so as her hands were atop her head and raised her dress even more - gave Brayden a nostalgic image of when one of his elder cousins, Daisy, had been in the same predicament whilst Brayden visited her and her parents at their home in the highlands.

  Daisy had been a clever troublemaker and was often put to face the nearest wall. Her bloomers always showed beneath her dresses and Brayden remembered walking past her on several occasions during those visits and wished to tell her off. Despite that Daisy was four years older than he, Brayden often found girls of all ages generally needed a good smack across a discerning knee. Brayden shook his head. Thankfully, Alice wasn’t as strong-willed as Daisy had been so Brayden probably would only need to be severe with her on various subjects once, and then she would probably learn. Daisy seemed to have had to learn repeat lessons the hard way. Of course, she was thirty-two. For her own sake, Brayden hoped that wherever she was, she was married to a strong and no-nonsense husband who would keep her in line. He made a mental note to see about tracking her down. It had been nearly a decade since they’d spoken. Daisy had taken her inheritance and travelled the world, leaving little more for her parents than a postcard here and there. Perhaps the result of a severely structured childhood.

  “Structure never hurt anyone,” Brayden said.

  “Sir?” Alice asked, half-turning around.

  “Nothing, face the wall darling,” he said, when he realised Alice had heard Brayden speak aloud to himself.

  Brayden kept an eye on the clock as he finished emailing his solicitor; there was still the life insurance and annuity in Alice’s name to sort out. He knew which financial products to invest in, but the choice was so varied he felt it would be best to consult his solicitor first.

  He glanced up at Alice and smiled to himself for a moment. He could hardly believe practically everything he had wanted since he was a teenager - to be sole master of Waldorf, to be in charge of everything, to have his inheritance and most of all a young girl living under his charge whom he had absolute authority over - was standing in front of him. He had desired and dreamt and at one time, searched for the situation that was at that very moment in his study. He wanted to cuddle Alice and thank her for responding to his solicitation in the first place . . . he also knew those feelings were best kept to himself. Alice was facing the wall for misbehaving and that’s where she would stay until her punishment was up.

  Brayden smiled to himself.

  Chapter Twelve

  One month had gone by since Alice integrated into Waldorf Manor, and it showed. Brayden could visibly see Alice’s mannerisms and her speech transforming before his eyes. Her posture was impeccable when she walked and sat, no doubt from seeing Brayden do the very same (and being reminded to do so). He didn’t always have to speak about a particular issue or subject, often Alice would watch her father and take heed on her own. Whilst Brayden rather enjoyed correcting her verbally and otherwise, he admired Alice’s assertiveness.

  Alice’s speech was improving daily; her sentences included more use of Brayden’s title as well as bigger words due to the exposure of constant reading. Her accent practically transformed and her council estate drawl had elongated into a more refined intonation. Brayden especially loved hearing Alice say, “Father, I’m quite upset at the moment.” Despite that it wasn’t amusing for him to see her upset, the way in which she expressed herself was. It was perfectly normal speech to Brayden, but it only usually came from people who had been raised in a similar environment. Brayden wanted Alice to appear to have been raised at Waldorf by himself exclusively and it was already beginning to appear that way. That was the last point he pondered before Alice appeared in the dining room, 1 minute and 52 seconds late.

  “Alice,” Brayden said, looking at his watch, as Alice walked the long trek from the dining room doors to the head of the table to kiss him good morning.

  “Father, you simply must listen. Celia said that you wished me to wear knee socks with this dress, but it’s quite chilly outside and I shall be rather chilly. So I insisted I wear my woollen tights because you are not unreasonable and wouldn’t want me to be shivering all day. I told her I would do so and then tell you in any case so that you are informed,” Alice said, all before planting a kiss on his cheek and standing back to see his reaction.

  Brayden could barely manage a response straightaway; her integrity was growing, her manners were improving, the loyalty she felt to Brayden, his rules, to Waldorf, it showed. He felt immensely proud.

  “You are quite right, darling, it is very chilly today. I must apologise, I hadn’t properly thought about your bare legs. Those tights will do just fine,” he said, looking down at her little thighs wrapped up in the thick black woollen tights. She also wore an above the knee black watch tartan pleated skirt with criss-cross braces and a long-sleeved Peter Pan collared white shirt beneath it, featuring a red floppy satin bow tie at the collar. If Brayden had no inhibitions he would have liked to have squeezed her tightly and
tapped her on the nose. He couldn’t figure it out but she seemed to get cuter with each passing day. And he suddenly felt an urge to want to introduce - not to share her - but to show her off, to his social circle. It was time and he felt she was ready enough to at least meet them. Brayden turned to acknowledge Wellesley filling his cup with coffee.

  “Thank you, Wellesley. Alice will have tea this morning, won’t you darling?” He asked, before taking a sip.

  “Father, I really must have my orange juice first, please,” she said.

  Brayden let out a small laugh and approved Alice’s request. Wellesley responded by filling her small crystal goblet with freshly squeezed orange juice.

  “Alice, I’m going to host a dinner party in the coming week. I want to introduce you to everyone,” Brayden said, unsure if he was even pleased with his choice of words.

  “Who is everyone?” Alice asked.

  "They are both friends and acquaintances whom I have known through my parents and social networking, although most of them are friends from boarding school. Several of them work or travel extensively so it's not always easy to get everyone together, although many of them will drop any commitments if I host a social. I don't host very often. Not in the last two years, anyway."

  Alice wasn’t keen on the idea of being put somewhat on display for his friends to observe and comment.

  “My closest friends are two gentlemen named Bennett and Damian, they are brothers. Up until quite recently we would have dinner together once a week,” Brayden said, placing his napkin in his lap.

  “What happened?” Alice asked, as she unfolded her own napkin.