Innocent Traitor Read Online Free PDF

she is in her mother’s presence, Jane is expected to stand still, remain silent, and behave in a dutiful manner with head bent and eyes lowered respectfully. If she is spoken to, she must answer meekly and clearly. My lady will brook no disobedience, and when little Jane displays some infant frailty, such as fidgeting in her place, or giggling when her dog piddles on the floor, the resultant smack is swift and sharp.
    The most painful incident, for Jane and for me too, occurred on the day when Jane, after the manner of many two-year-olds, bit young Meg during a scrap, and Meg’s father mentioned it to the Marchioness, who sent for us at once.
    “Mrs. Ellen, I do not wish to hear that my daughter is behaving like a savage,” she said coldly.
    “No, madam,” I replied, hoping that that would be an end to the matter. “I am sorry, madam. It will not happen again.”
    “You may be sure of that,” she answered grimly. “Jane, come here.”
    Hearing the angry tone in her mother’s voice, the child hid her face in my skirts, but Lady Dorset pulled her away, hauled her over her knee, tore up her petticoats, and administered a sound spanking that had Jane yelling in fear and pain. It was all I could do to stand there and watch, clenching my fists behind me to prevent myself from snatching her from her mother’s clutches. Then my lady stood her down.
    “If I ever hear that you have bitten anyone ever again, you will be beaten more severely,” she said sternly, wagging a finger. Jane said nothing, just sobbed and sobbed. Poor child, she is too young to understand what her mother was saying.
    “Take her away, Mrs. Ellen,” Lady Dorset commanded. “I do not wish to set eyes on that naughty girl again today.”
    I fled, angry that I had lifted no finger to spare Jane such punishment.
    Perhaps the Marchioness has never developed any natural bond of closeness with her child because the poor babe was not the boy she had hoped for—even though my lady is barely three-and-twenty, and more children will surely follow. But she has never shown Jane any open affection, nor, I am sure, does she question whether she has given the child cause to love her. Of course, it is the natural duty of a child to love and honor its parents, but my lady does not appear to see that there are two sides to the bargain, and I fear that, if there is any lack of love, she will blame Jane.
    Naturally, I do my best to protect Jane from her mother’s severity.
    “When your lady mother comes to the nursery today, Poppet,” I tell her, “you must curtsy and wait to be spoken to. Stand up straight, and don’t stare, because it’s rude.” This is as much as most people expect from a two-year-old, but Lady Dorset sets impossibly high standards.
    There comes a day when my lady arrives later than usual, just as Jane’s dinner is being put in front of her. The Marchioness seats herself at table, her eagle eye on the child. Jane takes a mouthful of fish.
    “Don’t like this,” she mumbles with her mouth full.
    “We must not despise what God gives us,” says her mother. “Eat it up.”
    Jane looks at her mournfully and begins pushing the food around the plate with her spoon.
    “Eat it!” commands my lady.
    Jane shakes her head, her big blue eyes brimming with tears.
    “How dare you defy me!” cries Lady Dorset. “Eat your dinner, or I will beat you.”
    Jane starts wailing loudly. I decide to risk the lash of my lady’s tongue.
    “Madam, let me try to persuade her.”
    “Persuade her? She must do as she is told. You are too soft with her, Mrs. Ellen.” She turns to the sobbing child. “Come here.”
    “My lady,” I intervene, “please allow her to calm down. She cannot eat while she is in this state.”
    “She has defied me and must be punished,” hisses her ladyship. “And you should know better than to contradict your betters. Remember your position in this household.” Rising, she grabs Jane by the upper arms, her angry fingers