Blossom

He called her his little blossom. Clementine was a delicate and pretty little thing completely unsuited to be the wife of a serious young man with an eye on a career in the city but she had a shapely figure with a plump bosom and a tiny waist, and such an endearing way of looking up at him as if he were the only man in the world worthy of the title, that Nicholas ignored his misgivings and married her.

He did not regret his decision right away. They spent a carefree honeymoon by the sea where he bought her a terrier puppy and watched her run and play with it on the beach. He spoiled her with her favorite sweets and when he lay beside her watching her sleep through the first light of dawn he felt himself to be the luckiest man in the world.

She was so gentle and good natured that all he could think about was how he could keep the roughness of the world away from her. His heart swelled with masculine pride as he held her close letting her dream her little dreams in the safety of his arms. He was so enamored of her innocence that it even shamed him to indulge the urges marriage gave him license to satisfy. When she patiently lay beneath him turning her face to the window as he got on with his sordid male business he wished he could resist pillaging her body and be content to rest chastely by her side like the hero in some medieval romance.

As if to compensate for these almost nightly impositions, he did his best to shield her from the domestic realities a young wife must inevitably face. They returned from their honeymoon to a modest but well appointed house left to Nicholas by his grandfather. The budget was stretched to include the hiring of a local girl to help with the more taxing chores and even Nicholas pitched in as he could often going himself to the butchers and green grocers or stealthily sewing a button back onto his shirt that Clementine had forgotten.

If she made a mistake and overspent one week, he cheerfully claimed that a dinner of bread and cheese was just what he needed to maintain his youthful figure. If she let the hired girl spend half the afternoon on the back steps talking to the man who delivered the coal it was just a fault of her gentle and kindhearted nature. As long as Clementine was trying he could forgive her anything. He kissed her and stroked her hair and reassured her that none of it mattered as long as she was his Clementine.

It was not until well into this first year of marriage that Nicholas began to feel the strain of Clementine's ineptitude and the perpetual state of disarray his household seemed to be in. He tried to dismiss the mild irritation he felt when she met him at the door with some crisis or other as a reaction to the bad weather (it was March, the longest and dreariest month of the year) but it did not dissipate with the spring and slowly it began to stain his love.

Even though he went to great lengths to be patient and kind, his little blossom seemed never improved at doing the simple tasks any young wife should be able to easily do. He wished he were better off so he could hire a proper housekeeper freeing Clementine to paint and play the harp as she was meant to but that luxury was at least a few years of hard work away. In the meantime they must live and at the moment the living was not going well. With the constant tears and little disasters Nicholas dreaded to think what would happen when the inevitable children arrived. The worst of it was that he had a vague notion he was failing Clementine as a husband, failing her in some way he could not quite grasp. He watched her become more silent and pale each day unable to think of a way to help her, to help them both.

He thought about this every evening after dinner while taking refuge in his grandfather's study. Sitting in the old man's high backed chair surrounded by the fine books that lined the walls Nicholas felt at peace. Often he would glance up at the portrait of his grandparents that hung over the massive oak desk that dominated the room seeking some form of guidance, or at least comfort, in the image of their happiness. The portrait had been painted soon after their wedding. Nicholas' grandfather sat tall in the very chair Nicholas now occupied with his wife kneeling by his side, her cheek resting in an attitude of contentment against his thigh

If only he could bring such contentment to Clementine Nicholas would think idly letting his eyes slide over a row of hooks on which an assortment of canes and leather straps hung arranged in order of size form smallest to thickest. Why they were there he did not know but somehow they always drew his attention whenever he thought about his grandparents long and happy marriage and the growing unhappiness of his own. It was almost as if the curious arrangement held the key to a way out of his predicament but he was too obtuse to see it.

There was no question things were slowly going from bad to worse. Clementine grew sadder and quieter as the days passed. Every suggestion from Nicholas or attempt to help was now met with painful self recrimination.

"I know," his wife would whisper when he pointed out a sensible way in which a task she was fretting over could be completed. "I shall do better next time. I promise." Then she would give him a quavering smile that offered no reassurance that she would. Somehow she could never remember what he showed her and in fact seemed to be gradually losing what little housekeeping skill she had with each piece of advice no matter how gently given.

Nicholas wondered how long they could continue in this manner. He feared that unless some monumental change of course occurred they would slowly descend into poverty and despair until old age and, finally, death claimed them.

It was this gloomy prospect that occupied his thoughts as he trudged home on an unseasonably warm day in early May not two weeks after their first anniversary. As he climbed the front steps he pulled impatiently at his collar feeling out of sorts and hot in his heavy woolen coat. It had been a long and trying day. All he wanted was a cool drink and perhaps to sit in the garden until dinner enjoying the spring twilight. He did not remember ever having felt so tired.

There was, however, no rest to be had for he was met at the door by a sobbing Clementine . The tears themselves were not out of the ordinary but the violence of her sobs and the way she clutched at him the minute he entered the front hall made it clear that some catastrophe of unusual severity had occurred.

With a weary sigh, Nicholas clasped his wife in his arms and tried to sooth her with kind works stroking her hair and planting little kisses on her furrowed brow. Instead of becoming calm under his touch as she usually did she pressed her face harder into his chest and wept as if the world was coming to an end. It was a good ten minutes before her could get a word out of her.

"It's no use," she whimpered when she could finally speak. She pulled away from him and wrung her hands pacing the length of the hall. "I thought I could fix it but it is hopeless. You will hate me."

"Surely it cannot be as bad as all that." Nicholas thought her overly dramatic. How much grief could even a silly wife come to in a quiet London suburb? "I could never hate you," he reassured her amazed that she would ever think such a thing.

"I tried. I really tried. You have to know that" She swallowed a hiccup and wiped her nose with the dangling lacy cuff of her sleeve like a small child.

"If you leave me..." She looked up at him eyes wide with terror. "If you leave me I will not blame you. I will not blame you even if I am to die in the street" He was reminded of a cornered mouse gazing into the jaws of a cat and fear sparked in his own belly. This was more than a burnt chop or a missing button. For the first time he spoke to her sternly.

"I think you had best just tell me what it is you have done, Blossom," he said. The endearment did not sound as it had before and he saw her flinch. He waited patiently while she stood before him gathering her courage.

She made several attempts to begin then changed her mind and sobbed a little more. Nicholas sighed with frustration.

"Perhaps we had best go inside," Nicholas said. He had a sudden thought of his grandfather's study. It's aura of quiet authority would be helpful in dealing with whatever difficulties Clementine had brought upon them, It might also sooth her and make her confession easier.

He took his wife by the arm a little less gently than he had intended and led her into the house. She followed meekly making no protest to his changed demeanor. She hung her head a little and a few more tear drops slipped down her pale cheeks.

Upon entering the solemn room, he let her go and watched as she wandered to the window. She stood silently looking at the newly budding birches outside her little shoulders trembling.

"Now," said Nicholas forcing himself to gentle his voice, "why don't you tell me what is so bad that I would feel compelled to heartlessly abandon my little wife.".

Clementine took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her bosom to suppress the tears that threatened to burst forth yet again. She stood there for a long moment searching for words until Nicholas thought he would have to drag them out of her.

"It was the numbers," she began at last. "No matter how careful I am they never seem to add up the right way in the end." She burst into fresh round of tears leaning her forehead against the window. "I cannot make them behave, Nicholas. I look at them and try to remember what you taught me but..."

With a growing sense of foreboding, Nicholas left Clementine standing at the window and strode into the little morning room where she wrote her letters and did the little administrative tasks necessary for the running of the household. He came back with the much abused and now tear stained account book and threw it open onto his grandfather's oaken desk.

The pages were rumpled and blotted with lines crossed out or overwritten in red. There were damp spots, evidence of recent tears, and jagged remnants of pages that had been torn out clinging to the spine. At the bottom of the very last page, written in read with a trembling hand, sat a figure that made Nicholas' heart sink.

He comforted himself because surely the sum was a mistake. The chances of Clementine having calculated it correctly were very small. He went over the numbers and his heart sank further. Clementine had calculated incorrectly but the correct outcome was worse than the one she had come up with.

He took a deep breath.

"We appear to be completely without funds for the next three weeks," he stated forcing his voice into the measured tone of a man completely in control of the situation. "And are, in fact, in dept to some degree." He remembered that just the other day he had noticed some new curtains in the drawing room and that they had eaten salmon twice that week. "Perhaps you had better explain."

With a small cry Clementine spun around and threw herself down at Nicholas' feet. She clung to his right leg as another tempest of sobs wracked her body. She was creasing his trousers he noted absently. For some reason this exasperated him and he looked down at her with a cool eye for the first time.

When her sobs had dwindled to a few ragged breaths, Nicholas stooped and cupped her chin in his palm forcing her to look up at him. "Tell me," he ordered her.

She swallowed and met his implacable gaze with her own timid one. Her eyes were wide and luminous with love and terror. Even a few days ago they would have worked their spell on him. He would have forgiven and forgotten and comforted. Now he just loomed over her waiting for her to speak.

"All I wanted to make things nice for you." She lowered her head and pressed her cheek against the toe of his boot. "I wanted to take care of you. I wanted you to come home to a good dinner and a comfortable home like a husband deserves"

She paused for a moment and stilled.

"But I am just a silly girl. Don't you see?" she cried suddenly. "Not a sensible wife for someone like you. Surely you knew that when you married me...." Her poor little voice faded away to silence. The guilt and despair that weighed it down almost rent Nicholas in two wracking him with guilt over his momentary annoyance.

Of course she was right. He had known. All her life she had been sheltered and indulged. He had, at least in part, loved her for her innocence and her helplessness and yet now he expected her to cope with the responsibilities of a wife with little preparation and what he now saw was little help from him. The sudden realization humbled him. He almost knelt down beside her to beg her forgiveness but he sensed that this was not what she wanted or needed.

"I have failed you," she continued. "I have been nothing but a burden to you." She reached up and clasped his hands in her own. "But please, please do not abandon me. I could not bear it."

"What am I to do then?" Nicholas asked her. "You know we cannot go on this way. It is no great thing to be a little hungry for a few days but what of the future? What is to keep you from making such mistakes again, and perhaps bigger ones that could lead to greater difficulties that might put us in much deeper in debt and could even..even ruin us?"

"I don't know!" Clementine whimpered. "You must help me change somehow. Take away all my dresses and ribbons. Starve me. Make me work until there is nothing left of me but bare bones. Show no mercy. Punish me until I am forced to learn."

It was a little dramatic perhaps but Nicholas could see a practical wisdom in it.

His eyes fell on his grandparent's portrait and then on the row of canes and straps that hung in such a neat row behind the desk. "Very well then." He drew himself up and helped his wife to her feet. "Let us have a lesson in arithmetic right now."

"Now?"

"Yes. Now." He placed the book at the far side of the desk and opened it to a new page. "We shall keep it simple."

He took Clementine by the elbow and bent her over the desk so that her elbows were resting on each side of the book somewhat surprised at how meekly she allowed herself to be arranged. He picked up a pen and put it in her hand.

"Please enter the sum I give you for household expenses as you typically would."

Clementine leaned a little on her left elbow and carefully entered the date and a note to say what the amount was in the first column. She hesitated briefly then wrote the amount in the next column over taking great care over each number.

"Very good. Now what was the first of last weeks expenditures?"

"The butcher. Two shillings for those chops and some bacon"

"Write it down, Clementine" Clementine bit her lip and thought. "The third column from the left one line down" Nicholas wandered over to the far wall and ran a finger over the thin cane that hung closest to him. He picked it up and flexed it testing its suppleness.

"What else?" Nicholas strolled back to stand behind and to the right of Clementine.

"Well, the green grocer of course." Clementine quickly entered the shilling five pence under the butcher's total.

"Excellent. So far I cannot see how you could have gone so wrong. Is that all?

"There is the baker and we needed coal. Tea, milk, sugar. I bought thread to darn your socks. Paraffin for the lamps." Clementine listed all the things she spent money on weekly scribbling them in the book happier with each success and subsequent smile from Nicholas. When she had listed everything she could remember, she added them all up and subtracted the sum from the first and only amount at the top of the second column. She put down the pen and looked up at Nicholas expectantly.

"A good effort." Nicholas tapped the cane against his right foot as he reviewed Clementine's work. "However, here you attempted to subtract six from three." He pointed to the rightmost set of digits. "You correctly wrote the difference as seven but you forgot that you borrowed from the amount on the left and now you have a ten more shillings than you should have."

"Oh." Clementine blushed and hung her head over her work. She studied it trying to understand.

"Any schoolboy could have done these sums. It seems your education was sadly lacking."

"I know it. The governess finally gave up on me in despair. She tried to speak to my father about it but he dismissed her. He said I was too pretty to learn tedious things, that he preferred me cheerful and silly."

"Your father did you a great disservice, Clementine, one which it is my duty now to undo if we are to continue living happily together." Nicholas laid the cane gently across his wife's back and caressed her with the tip. "I really think that punishment such as is usually meted out to inferior pupils is just the thing you need."

He half expected her to leap up and run away, to call him a beast and lock herself in her dressing room until she could write to her father to take her away. Instead she glanced back over her shoulder and in her eyes was such love and such trust that it almost took his breath away. "I think perhaps you are right. Perhaps if I had had a stricter upbringing..." She shook her head a small sad smile flickering briefly across her face.

She had never looked prettier, or more fragile. If he had not already spoken of it, Nicholas would have abandoned his half formed plan putting it down to temporary insanity. He would have taken her in his arms and told her never mind, they would manage somehow. But he had set his foot upon this path and was now bound to follow it to wherever it might lead.

Piles of silk, lace and whalebone stood in his way. He considered asking her to undress but thought maybe she would find it too daunting a task. Instead he lifted her skirt and patiently loosened and unknotted his way through the complicated system of undergarments that sheltered her until finally her tender bottom was exposed to his view.

As he gazed down at her he realized it was the first time he had seen her naked in this way. The soft curve of her buttocks and thighs was intoxicating. He ran his hand over her the skin marveling at its smoothness. Between her legs was that place he had taken his brief and guilty pleasure in but never even glimpsed. It was a delicate pink and crowned by a patch of chestnut hair slightly darker than that on her head. It took all of his strength to focus on the task at hand and not to slide an experimental finger between the soft folds that glistened with a surprising amount of moisture.

"Are you ready?" he asked summoning all the authority he could muster. "You understand I do this because I love and care for you."

Clementine clutched the edges of the desk and pressed her cheek against the sturdy wood. "I love you too, Nicholas, so very much. Please do what you must."

"I think we will start with five strokes for this mistake," Nicholas said. "Do you agree that that is fair?"

"Yes, Nicholas. Five strokes is fair."

"Very well."

Without further ado, Nicholas raised his arm and struck. He did not use so much as half his full strength but even so the cane made a loud smack that caused him to flinch a little.

Clementine herself held still, the only evidence that she felt the blow a brief contraction of her buttocks and a sharply indrawn breath. A second stroke elicited a tiny moan and a single tear that trickled slowly down her cheek. Two more and her hands fluttered back briefly, succumbing to an instinctive desire to ward off the blows, before settling down to grip the edge of the desk. Four thin red lines criss crossed her backside.

"One more." Nicholas aimed at the spot just at the top of her thighs that was still unmarked. He swung and wrenched a yelp from her quivering lips. "There. Its over now." He stepped back. "Shall we try again?"