doorway.
'Father, I only came to see—'
'Out, I say.' He looked so angry she was afraid that he would lash out at her. She cast a scared glance at Simon and scurried out.
'Did she speak to you?' his father demanded.
'She only came to see if I was all right,' Simon muttered, his face and neck flushing.
'Did she speak to you?' he repeated. 'Stand up when I'm talking to you!'
Simon cowered, trembling, in front of him. 'No,' he lied. 'She just came to look at me.'
'Liar!' His father's hand struck so hard across Simon's face that he staggered. 'Did she speak?'
Simon nodded, holding his cheek, unable to hold back the tears. 'Yes,' he mumbled. 'But you're not to hit her.'
'I don't hit women or girls,' his father retaliated grimly. 'I shall find some other punishment for her; and as for you, it will be bread and water for the rest of the day and you can look forward to another taste of the cane in the morning.'
He turned on his heel and left, leaving Simon sweating over the promised punishment and full of shame for letting his sister down.
Eleanor was summoned to appear in the drawing room. She was very afraid. Her father, she knew, would have tried to winkle out of Simon whether she had spoken to him. She clasped her fingers together. Will he have told? Will I get the cane? She had seen Simon's red hands though he had tried to hide them from her. She knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter.
Her mother sat on the sofa. Her face was white and strained-looking and she didn't look up as Eleanor entered. Eleanor dipped her knee to her father, who was standing by the fireplace.
'I have been disobeyed,' he said without preamble. 'My instructions were that your brother was not to be spoken to. You wilfully flouted or sought to ignore that command.'
Eleanor hung her head. So Simon told of me, she thought. How could he? She didn't speak. She now knew well enough that if she did she would be in even more trouble.
'You will of course be punished,' her father went on. His voice was cold and unflinching, which she thought was more terrifying than when he shouted.
'I have told your mother that, like your brother, you will be given bread and water and not be allowed contact with anyone until such time as I decide.'
Eleanor lifted her head, her lips parted. No supper? And I'm so hungry. 'Yes, Papa,' she murmured.
'And,' her father continued, 'don't think that is the end of the matter. You are to come with me.' He marched towards the door and Eleanor cast an anxious glance at her mother. Where am I to be taken? Her mother lifted her head and in answer to Eleanor's unspoken plea shook her head, causing tendrils of hair round her face to tremble.
She was ushered up the stairs. They went up one flight to the bedrooms and then up another to the schoolroom floor and then up again to the top attic. Where are we going, she wondered, thinking that there was only the maids' room up here. But on her previous visit she had missed seeing the low door on the landing.
Her father took a key from his pocket and bent down to unlock it. Eleanor peered inside. There were piles of papers and files stacked from the floor to the top of the eaves into which the cupboard was set. She looked enquiringly at her father. Was it her task to sort through the papers? Not a punishment, she considered, for she would quite enjoy doing that. She thought that perhaps they were legal documents, for some were of thick yellowing parchment.
'You'll stay here until bedtime,' her father said. 'And you will not make a sound. If you do you will be here until morning.'
She looked at him. What did he mean?
'Get inside,' he commanded. 'Go on.'
'Inside?' she said. 'But how? There's not much room.'
He took her by the arm and pushed her in. 'It's not meant to be comfortable,' he said. 'It is meant for your discipline. You can reflect on your disobedience whilst you are in there and consider that even if I do not succeed in breaking your brother's will, I shall
'Father, I only came to see—'
'Out, I say.' He looked so angry she was afraid that he would lash out at her. She cast a scared glance at Simon and scurried out.
'Did she speak to you?' his father demanded.
'She only came to see if I was all right,' Simon muttered, his face and neck flushing.
'Did she speak to you?' he repeated. 'Stand up when I'm talking to you!'
Simon cowered, trembling, in front of him. 'No,' he lied. 'She just came to look at me.'
'Liar!' His father's hand struck so hard across Simon's face that he staggered. 'Did she speak?'
Simon nodded, holding his cheek, unable to hold back the tears. 'Yes,' he mumbled. 'But you're not to hit her.'
'I don't hit women or girls,' his father retaliated grimly. 'I shall find some other punishment for her; and as for you, it will be bread and water for the rest of the day and you can look forward to another taste of the cane in the morning.'
He turned on his heel and left, leaving Simon sweating over the promised punishment and full of shame for letting his sister down.
Eleanor was summoned to appear in the drawing room. She was very afraid. Her father, she knew, would have tried to winkle out of Simon whether she had spoken to him. She clasped her fingers together. Will he have told? Will I get the cane? She had seen Simon's red hands though he had tried to hide them from her. She knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter.
Her mother sat on the sofa. Her face was white and strained-looking and she didn't look up as Eleanor entered. Eleanor dipped her knee to her father, who was standing by the fireplace.
'I have been disobeyed,' he said without preamble. 'My instructions were that your brother was not to be spoken to. You wilfully flouted or sought to ignore that command.'
Eleanor hung her head. So Simon told of me, she thought. How could he? She didn't speak. She now knew well enough that if she did she would be in even more trouble.
'You will of course be punished,' her father went on. His voice was cold and unflinching, which she thought was more terrifying than when he shouted.
'I have told your mother that, like your brother, you will be given bread and water and not be allowed contact with anyone until such time as I decide.'
Eleanor lifted her head, her lips parted. No supper? And I'm so hungry. 'Yes, Papa,' she murmured.
'And,' her father continued, 'don't think that is the end of the matter. You are to come with me.' He marched towards the door and Eleanor cast an anxious glance at her mother. Where am I to be taken? Her mother lifted her head and in answer to Eleanor's unspoken plea shook her head, causing tendrils of hair round her face to tremble.
She was ushered up the stairs. They went up one flight to the bedrooms and then up another to the schoolroom floor and then up again to the top attic. Where are we going, she wondered, thinking that there was only the maids' room up here. But on her previous visit she had missed seeing the low door on the landing.
Her father took a key from his pocket and bent down to unlock it. Eleanor peered inside. There were piles of papers and files stacked from the floor to the top of the eaves into which the cupboard was set. She looked enquiringly at her father. Was it her task to sort through the papers? Not a punishment, she considered, for she would quite enjoy doing that. She thought that perhaps they were legal documents, for some were of thick yellowing parchment.
'You'll stay here until bedtime,' her father said. 'And you will not make a sound. If you do you will be here until morning.'
She looked at him. What did he mean?
'Get inside,' he commanded. 'Go on.'
'Inside?' she said. 'But how? There's not much room.'
He took her by the arm and pushed her in. 'It's not meant to be comfortable,' he said. 'It is meant for your discipline. You can reflect on your disobedience whilst you are in there and consider that even if I do not succeed in breaking your brother's will, I shall
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