Marriage Training Ch. 04

Author's note: Make sure to read the first 3 chapters of this series; it's rather plot heavy and the chapters are not meant to be read as standalone pieces. This chapter is heavier on explanation and setting up the story than on eroticism, but the pacing should pick up substantially starting with the next chapter now that we know what to expect from Vivian's new schedule. Enjoy!

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A knock on the door woke Vivian, although it wasn't until she stretched and various muscles in her body twinged that she remembered why she was currently in her bed.

"Come in," she called, sitting up and impatiently pulling her hair from her eyes. A maid entered with a tray of food and Vivian realized she must have overslept the lunch hour.

The morning's events had thoroughly disoriented Vivian in a way that she'd never experienced before, and although she was feeling more or less back to her usual self now that she'd had some rest, she was aware of various muscles in her body that ached where she'd never had an ache before. Not only that, but she felt as if she'd had a glimpse into some kind of new and fascinating world. But she wasn't sure that it was a good kind of world... she wondered if this is what Pandora had felt like, looking at the box and wondering whether or not to open it.

Except that Vivian didn't exactly have much of a choice.

"Thank you," she said to the maid, who put the tray down beside her on the bed and bobbed a curtsy before exiting the room.

Her luncheon consisted of a hearty stew, hot crusty bread with a chunk of cheese, and an apple. Much heavier fare than Vivian normally enjoyed in the middle of the day, but she found herself ravenous and she began eating with enthusiasm.

As she ate, she couldn't help but think about her examination and what kind of man might want his wife to be subjected to it. She also wondered why the Earl had chosen her, a poor girl of much lower social standing, after only meeting her once. Objectively she knew she was considered beautiful, even if her red hair wasn't fashionable, but was that all a man wanted?

Well of course not, she told herself rather sardonically. If that was all a man wanted then there would have been no reason for that morning's exam or her future training Setting the finished tray of food on the table next to her bed, Vivian leaned back against the pillow. A bath. She'd been promised a bath.

Sitting back up she rang the bell.

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The hot soapy water scoured her clean, allowing her to relax as the maid attending her worked at washing her long red hair. Without the pins holding it up and the curls to shorten its length, it hung straight down to her waist and she'd always considered it her crowning glory. She didn't care that the color was unfashionable; her mother had always said that Vivian's hair looked like a sunrise. The maid's nimble fingers massaged her scalp and Vivian let out a sigh of pure bliss.

When she stood so that the maid could pour a bucket of water over her and rinse out her hair, the water streamed down her milky skin, the soap bubbles falling away.

"Here miss," the maid said, holding out a fluffy towel.

As the maid rubbed her down, Vivian found herself comparing the brisk and business-like touch to the way Mrs. Banks and Dr. Monroe had touched her earlier that morning. There really was no comparison. But why had their touches filled her body with such strange sensations while the maid's hands traveled to all the same places but without the accompanying disturbance?

What would her future husband's touch feel like? More like the maid's or...

Vivian shivered.

"I'm sorry miss, I'm almost done and then we can get you dressed," said the maid, misinterpreting the shiver as an indication that Vivian was chilled.

After dressing her the maid sat Vivian down and began to carefully dry her hair with a fresh towel. Because of the fashion for curls, and because Vivian's hair was almost as unfashionably long and straight as it was red, it could take hours to have her hair put into an acceptable fashion, especially right after a bath. Some days that grated on her nerves and she would have to resist the urge to fidget. Today she was too busy lost in her thoughts, wondering about her future.

Wondering about her husband.

Wondering about her training.

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Vivian was called to Mrs. Cunningham's private rooms for dinner, accompanied by Mrs. Banks as usual. She'd never heard of another young lady having a meal with Mrs. Cunningham, and the unusualness of the situation made her extremely anxious. The beautiful vivid blue gown she wore gave her some measure of confidence, and yet she felt as though both Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Banks were studying her every movement much more closely than ever before. It was an unnerving sensation, although she did her best to smile and engage in the light social chatter which they had taught her. They discussed the weather, the newest fashion plates which had been delivered to the school and which Vivian hadn't had the chance to see yet, complimented each other's dresses... it was all what Vivian was used to but suddenly it felt like a façade.

This morning she had seen a flash of the truth behind the carefully kept curtain kept over the secrets of the marriage bed, things that young ladies weren't supposed to be aware of until their wedding night. She could no longer feel fully comfortable with Mrs. Banks, because she couldn't look at the woman without thinking about how it had felt to have Mrs. Banks' fingers stroking her most private areas, inserting them inside her. And then she'd put her mouth there.

Every time Vivian looked at Mrs. Banks she blushed. The other women noticed her reactions of course, it was most important to be attuned to the young ladies following their examination for their behavior would determine the path of their training. Anger or fear were not uncommon reactions, some young ladies were obviously eager or curious. Vivian was modestly embarrassed, fairly anxious and just a touch fearful. Yet there was also determination in the set of her jaw, her upright spine; she was aware of her need to please her future husband and she had the kind of pride that would not allow her to fail once she'd set her course. No matter how humiliating or confusingly pleasurable it might be. And of course she was all too aware that Mrs. Cunningham must know what had happened in the examination room, although she was not aware that the headmistress had, in fact, watched every moment of it.

Mrs. Cunningham was quite pleased with what she saw, both as Miss Stafford covered her emotions with a social mask and as she averted her eyes from Mrs. Banks in embarrassment. As skilled as Vivian was in social matters, she was quite transparent whenever her eyes came to rest upon Mrs. Banks. There was very good workable material there; eagerness could occasionally be a hindrance, Mrs. Cunningham much preferred Vivian's determined attitude and her attention to preserving the social niceties. That was something which would serve her in good stead, as the Earl had discussed some of the activities he'd like to indulge in with Vivian, which would include some torments for her that she would be required to hide while in public. Special corsets and undergarments were already being prepared for the young lady, to the specifications of Lord Cranborne's desires and Vivian's measurements.

As the meal ended Vivian felt herself winding up tighter and tighter, as if she was being stretched and pulled like wool around a spindle. So far nothing out of the ordinary had happened and yet that did not comfort her. Why would Mrs. Cunningham invite her for a private dinner only to discuss fashion? There must be some purpose behind her presence here tonight, especially after the events of the morning, and she was becoming quite desperate to know what.

Finally she couldn't take it anymore.

Putting on her social smile, the way a warrior might don his armor, Vivian raised her emerald eyes to meet the hard agates of Mrs. Cunningham's. "Thank you so much for the invitation to dinner this evening, Mrs. Cunningham," she said. "It was quite an unexpected honor."

Mrs. Banks and Mrs. Cunningham exchanged pleased smiles. Not only had Vivian lasted much longer than most of the young woman in inquiring about her presence, but she had done so quite subtly and politely. Some young woman became quite aggressive at this point, others somewhat hysterical and others never quite got up the gumption to say anything at all.

From her reading of Lord Cranborne, Mrs. Cunningham was becoming more and more assured that Miss Stafford was exactly the right kind of young woman for his lordship. Submissive but spirited and with a well of inner strength that would make her final submission to him all the more glorious.

"But one well deserved," she replied to Vivian. "After all, you have proven yourself to be one of the most exemplary students at this school even before your examination today. And I can tell you that your future husband is quite pleased with the results of that examination." Vivian blinked, surprised, but then realized she should have known Mrs. Cunningham would be reporting to Lord Cranborne. After all, her training was at his behest. "I thought it best to give you a respite from the company of the other young women this evening, as you've had quite an eventful day."

"Thank you," she said carefully, trying to decide how to word her myriad of questions. "I do appreciate it..."

But before she could ask anything, Mrs. Banks cut in, reaching across the table to rest her hand on Vivian's. Immediately Vivian blushed as she remembered Mrs. Banks' touch on other, much more intimate locations.

"Tomorrow your training will begin in earnest," said Mrs. Banks. "During the day you will join the other young women in a practicum that we have created to give you all experience in the actual running of a household. In the evening you will forgo the usual activities to begin your marriage training."

"Not all of it will be pleasant," said Mrs. Cunningham, her voice cutting through Mrs. Banks' softer tones. "Although some girls have found a good deal of pleasure in their training. You will be punished when necessary, and rewarded as deserved."

"I'm sure you'll do wonderfully," Mrs. Banks said reassuringly, giving Vivian's hand a squeeze.

"She'd better," Mrs. Cunningham said acerbically. "We have a reputation to uphold."

"Of course she will, she'll be a credit to us all."

It didn't occur to Vivian that the scene being played out before her was well rehearsed, designed to both set her off balance and realign her emotions positively towards Mrs. Banks. After the examination she'd been decidedly undecided how she felt about her long-time companion, considering the invasiveness of some of the procedures and Mrs. Banks' involvement. Now, the handsome widow's support bolstered her spirits in the face of Mrs. Cunningham's doubtful tone and forbidden expression. She remembered how supportive Mrs. Banks had been throughout some of the harder portions of the exam, and the embarrassment she felt about other portions seemed to fade when compared to her gratitude towards the woman.

"I will certainly do my best," said Vivian truthfully, not wanting to let down Mrs. Banks' confidence in her. Mrs. Cunningham nodded her head as if to say she knew that Vivian would try her best, but that didn't entirely convince her that she would do well. Mrs. Banks gave Vivian's hand another squeeze.

"We should get you to bed, dear," said Mrs. Banks. "Tomorrow will be a very long day."

*********

"Good morning!"

The over-bright cheery voice of a maid roused Vivian from a most uncomfortable dream in which she'd been strapped down to a table similar to the one she'd been restrained to yesterday, and a strange man with a blurred face had been pushing his fingers between her legs. Her body felt overheated, the area between her legs throbbing, as she forced her eyes open.

"Time to wake up miss," the maid said cheerfully, pulling the blue damask curtains apart. Brilliant sunshine filled the room and Vivian groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes to protect them from the sudden light. Her body felt rather lethargic, which was unusual because normally she didn't need very much sleep.

Yesterday had been an unusual day, but surely her nap in the afternoon had been enough to rebalance her.

"Is it earlier than usual?" she asked, blinking her emerald eyes in sleepy confusion. "Oh yes Miss, a full hour earlier. Please Miss, you'll be late if we don't get started."

"I don't understand," Vivian said as she dragged herself from the warmth of the bed, shivering slightly from the morning chill when she was wearing nothing but a thin nightrail. The gossamer fabric did very little to warm her and her nipples stuck out in pink little points, rubbing against the silky inside of the garment. They still felt rather sensitive and sore after the previous morning's abuse.

"You're starting the practicum today, right miss?" the maid asked as she steered Vivian towards the stool in front of her vanity.

Dimly Vivian remembered Mrs. Cunningham saying something about that. "Yes... I believe so..."

"Well that starts a full hour earlier than the normal run of lessons, as you have to travel to the house," the maid chattered. Vivian stifled a groan as the maid began to unpin and re-curl her hair. Why hadn't Mrs. Banks or Mrs. Cunningham mentioned that last night at dinner? Perhaps it had slipped their minds.

Blearily she stared into the mirror as the maid did her best to give some life to her hair. The long, straight strands of her hair were slightly less resistant than they had been the day before, thanks to the preparations taken after her bath. Scrubbing the sleep from her eyes, Vivian allowed the maid to help her dress, feeling almost as though she was sleeping walking.

The difference of one hour's worth of sleep was more than she could have ever realized; her body had become quite acclimated to the normal schedule of the school and this one unexpected change was brutal.

"There you are miss, you'd best hurry, you're already two minutes late," the maid said, practically bustling Vivian out the door. She'd been dressed in a smart morning gown of blue muslin, both flattering and comfortable.

Feeling rather disoriented, Vivian gave herself a little shake and walked towards the front of the house. She didn't pick up her steps until she was at the top of the staircase and saw two other young woman waiting in the foray with their companions, and Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Banks. Another older woman, Vivian assumed she was a companion, was waiting there as well, and she felt a surge of relief that she wasn't the last to arrive. Sweeping down the stairs she joined the group at the bottom.

"Miss Stafford, you're five minutes late," Mrs. Banks said in a stern voice. Vivian shifted uncomfortably under the widow's hard gaze.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Banks. I didn't realize that I needed to be awake so early." Although she was apologizing there was a hint of reproach in her voice.

"That's part of the Practicum," said Mrs. Banks, raising her eyebrow at Vivian. "Your studies are moving on from the theoretical to the practical, you will actually be taking turns with the other young ladies in running a small household. One of the first things you will need to learn is to be flexible and to be able to adjust to any change in your routine. Who knows what emergency might crop up in the early hours of the morning? And you must be prepared to deal with it. It would behoove you to remember that." The look that she gave Vivian clearly showed that she had not missed the slight bit of sass. "We will discuss your punishment for being late when we return to the school this evening."

Punishment?! Vivian almost felt faint. Not once, in all her time at the school, had she ever earned a punishment. Certainly not for something as trifling as being a few minutes late.

The shock must have shown on her face because Mrs. Banks' expression became slightly more sympathetic. "You are no longer a child Vivian, you are a young woman and you are going to be married soon. Being late is no longer acceptable, it is a measure of disrespect towards the people you are meeting. You are saying that you don't care if they have to wait for you, that your time is more valuable than theirs. What is acceptable for a child is no longer acceptable for you."

Never had Vivian been so thoroughly chastised, and she blushed hot red, feeling quite miserable. Since coming to the school she'd always been a model student, indeed she'd strived to be so. Perhaps she had become complacent.

Footsteps came rushing down the stairs and Vivian turned her head to see the last young woman joining them, looking flushed and contrite. Her immediate apology to the group was in sharp contrast to Vivian's unconcern. Mrs. Banks gave Vivian a significant look and then they were sweeping out the door to the awaiting carriages.

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The return home that evening saw all four young women completely exhausted. If it wasn't for the jerks and bumps along the road, Vivian was quite sure that she would have fallen asleep right where she sat.

Which would surely have made for another reprimand from Mrs. Banks. It had been a day full of them. For all the young women. They sharply chided, their mistakes loudly pointed out every time they made one. The classes had taught them how an effective household was supposed to run, but the Practicum was already showing them that they could not rely on that. Mrs. Cunningham had explained, before leaving them at the Practice House, that all the scenarios which they would face during the Practicum were taking from things that had actually happened.

The experience had been eye opening. The day had been sectioned off by hours, each young lady being assigned a section. Each day they would rotate sections so that each were able to practice running the household during the morning, luncheon, afternoon tea and dinner. Today Vivian had been given the morning section, which had started out smoothly enough but had quickly gone haywire when a maid burst in upon the group as they were being given a tour of the house by the housekeeper, shrieking that there were rats in the kitchen.

And Vivian had no idea what to do.

The other young ladies were allowed to give suggestions, but two of them had become so hysterical at the idea of rats that they had been utterly useless. Eventually Vivian called for several footmen to go on a rat hunt, but the fracas had ended up delaying lunch.

Each of the companions had a pad of paper on which they were taking notes about their students, and Mrs. Banks had had an ominous expression as she'd scribbled down several things on hers. All of the companions pointed out the myriad of mistakes each of the girls was making, flustering them further.

All in all it was not a pleasant day. And hers wasn't over yet. She hadn't forgotten that her Marriage Training was to begin this evening. Nibbling on her soft lower lip, she glanced over at Mrs. Banks who was staring out the window of the carriage. Somehow she didn't think that her companion would be willing to postpone the first lesson for a later date. After all, once she was married and the lady of a household, her duties would be round the clock.

Once the carriage arrived at the school and the young ladies stepped out, Mrs. Banks pulled Vivian over to the side, speaking in a low voice. "I will join you in your room in an hour, you have until then to do as you please."

"Thank you Mrs. Banks," said Vivian, feeling quite relieved. She wanted to do nothing more than go upstairs to her room and lie down.

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