The Fifth Son

[goodgulf]

The Fifth Son

Easter 1887

Shrieks filled the carriage as countless schoolboys cut loose during their journey home. Sitting near the rear of the carriage, Quentin Mountebank could hear similar yet higher pitch joyous noises coming from the next carriage back, one filled with girls making their ways home for the Easter hols. Despite beings surrounded by those celebrating their temporary release from classes, Quentin felt an odd melancholy overcome him. A student in the Upper Six, he realised that he would only ride the train home from school once more. Barring illness or a death in the family, the next time he he took this trip would be after Quentin finished the upper six and left school.

In mere months he would leave school and... then what? He was 18, fifth son of a minor baron, and he had no idea where he would be next Easter. Most of his peers knew their futures, had had them charted almost from birth, but what resources would his family devote to his cause? They had barely given him a name, selecting one that meant Fifth.

His eldest brother, William, would inherit the estate and as much of the ready cash as could spared from their sisters' dowries as William became the fourth Baron of Oak Hill. The next son, George, held command of a capital ship in Her Majesty's navy and had a good shot at making a place in the Admiralty. The third eldest, Luke, had recently become the dean of a cathedral and some said that he would perhaps wear a bishop robes one day (but never those of a Lord Bishop). The fourth son, David, held a commission as an officer in the cavalry, but (chillingly enough) not in one of the more fashionable regiments. His parents put it around that David preferred to serve in regiment that would see real combat, but that might have been face saving.

Quentin had no choice but to face a cruel reality, that his family might have more sons than they had resources to support. He knew that there were a very small number of occupations he could fill without bringing disgrace to his family (any form of trade was right out). There was the church (taken), the navy (taken), the cavalry (taken), and little else. His mood sank further as Quentin admitted to himself that he didn't have the best grades, which might further restrict his limited options. He knew that he could do a bit better, but that he doesn't have the class of intellect that some of his classmates possessed. Bannock Minor could do Latin as if he had been born in the times of the Caesars, Sturgeon Major could do maths in his head before Quentin finished copying the question on his slate, and Matthews was the best all rounder in the form.

Quentin's mood darkened when he was picked up at the station. The coachman was there to meet him, and a footman held his door open, but would this be one of a shrinking number of rides in the family coach? What did the future hold for a fifth son of a minor family, one that clung to the bottom of the nobility?

As the familiar countryside passed, Quentin couldn't help dwelling a story he had heard about one of the Harvey boys. One that rumour held that the story had been whispered by one of the middle sons, about Jeffery Harvey (another middle son who had left school only two years) being instructed to cause a minor scandal, nothing truly shaming, just enough for Jeffery Harvey to be banished to the colonies with a small annual stipend. Jeffery Harvey had been given a clear choice: leave and take the money, or stay and be disowned for a vague reason that implied shirt lifting, never seeing another dime or even the smallest scrap of food from his family until he was interred in the family crypt.

Would that be Quentin's fate? To be stripped of his birthright and shipped off to the wilds of Africa, Asia, Australia, or the Americas to sink or swim on his own merits, like the son of a common merchant?

Quentin arrived at the family pile around mid afternoon, long after lunch. He hadn't expected the household to be turned out to meet him, but he had expected more than just his mother to be there. In that he was disappointed, but told himself he should count himself lucky that his mother had deigned to welcome him home.


Elsa Mountebank knew her sons. Of course she hadn't nursed them or spent long hours in the nursery (that was what servants were for) but she had taken the time to get to know them during the school hols. She could sense that her youngest son was distant, distracted, and more than a little moody, which in her mind was no way to begin his stay. He might be her son, but there was no way on Heaven or Earth that she would allow his mood to disrupt her plans for the Easter season.

Taking the time to make small talk, Lady Elsa probed. She asked about his school, his friends, his studies, and received little more than monosyllabic answers. Finally she turned her talk to his trip.

"And that train you take, do they really add ten extra carriages for this run? Just for the students?"

"They do." Quentin acknowledged sullenly, peeved over having to give a real answer as a single word would not do. "Five for the boys and five for the girls. I found myself at the rear of the boys' section."

"Truly? I expect you saw a bit of silliness when the carriage doors opened to allow the conductors passage." Lady Elsa suggested. "I can still remember how silly it could get, all those little girls together on one train."

"They were not all that little." Quentin yawned. "Might I retire to my quarters to changed from my journey?"

"Of course you may." Lady Elsa nodded. "You must be famished. I shall have one of the maids bring you something from the kitchen."

"Thank you Lady Mother for thinking of that."

Lady Elsa smiled, certain (but completely wrong) that she knew what the problem was. Her son's comment about the girls not being so little was the telling one. Those train trips home got more than silly; they often became very saucy, especially with the senior girls. The conductors rarely dared those carriages, leading some girls to feel private enough trade clothing at times. Other girls, those trapped in the grip of a serious pash, would kiss and cuddle and sometimes ended the ride with sticky fingers and wet knickers.

Seeing something like that, well it could get a boy hot and bothered. She knew that boys would be boys, but that Quentin would not have the opportunity to self abuse on the train or during his couch ride home. Nor did she relish the notion of him doing that in the privacy of his room. The entire idea seemed to be so beneath the family name. Lady Elsa thought that self abuse perfectly natural amount the lower classes, say by a stable boy who had helped one of her daughters mount her horse, but that it should not be practised by their betters.

With that in mind, Lady Elsa took action. Word was quickly sent and several maids were gathered in her sitting room. Not her own maids, no, this wasn't a task for a lady's maid, but one lower ones would do nicely.

"Attend me." Lady Elsa snapped.

The maids focused their complete attention on her.

"My youngest son, Quentin, has just arrived home from school." Lady Elsa announced, reciting a fact that everyone in the room knew. "He is to be taken a light repast from the kitchens. In addition, it appears that he is in a mood, the type his father is often in, and requires stress relief. Physical stress relief. The sort of thing that my husband and eldest son often require."

A few of the maids smiled sassy smiles, but the rest had the decency to look away. The maids knew what Lady Elsa meant and hated to be reminded that her ladyship (and the other ladies of the household) knew about those extra duties which often earned them spending money.

"A schoolboy cannot be expected to have spending money, and I feel that this is an urgent matter." Lady Elsa continued. "Ashley, Katy, you pair have the chance to earn half a shilling, which I shall give to the one who relieves his physical stress. Sally, Kath, Lise, and Sarah, the four of you shall share a shilling among you for being my eyes and ears in this matter. I shan't be cheated, but nor will I spy on my own son, so be sure to tell me true tales of which girl has earned her half shilling."

Neither Ashley nor Katy were pleased by this announcement, but they smiled and nodded. Inwardly they seethed, knowing that the other maids would each get half what one of them would earn and none of those maids would have to remove their drawers to earn.

Ashley was perhaps five years older than Quentin. None would call her a great beauty, but at 23 she wasn't hard to look at. Everything was where it should be. If her bottom happened to be a bit bigger than most, but it was firm and rounded. Katy was just the opposite; only three years older than Quentin, her full breasts were her best feature while her bottom could be rounder.

The six of them went to their quarters where Katy and Ashley quickly changed, then the group to fetch the food. On the way to the kitchen, Sarah asked which would try for the money.

"My monthly friend says I can't get caught today." Ashley bragged.

"Lucky you." Katy said bitterly. "Care to split the tip? I could put the money to good use. Very good use."

"I'll see." Ashley smirked. "That I shall."

Katy nodded glumly, knowing that she wouldn't see a single pence, not without practically begging for it.


Quentin's mood had darkened since he entered his room. He knew that the footmen slept two or four to rooms smaller than his own, a fact that caused him to wonder if he would ever have a room to himself again. If he would ever enjoy wearing new clothes again rather than those that were just new to him. Perhaps a year from now he would be sitting alone in a tent, the only civilised man in a thousand miles, wearing little more than filthy rags.

In short, he was sitting there feeling very sorry for himself.

Ashley knocked on the door, then opened it.

"Her Ladyship instructed me to bring these to you." Ashley said brightly as she pushed the trolley in. "Shall I arrange things on your desk?"

"Of course." Quentin snapped. "That is where it always goes."

"Right you are Lord Quentin." Ashley said, carefully arranging the meal on the desk.

Wine might stain, so she had to put a water goblet where the wine usually went. It was a wooden one, often used on picnics, sometimes used for in between meal repasts. Focused on the table, Ashley didn't notice how Quentin shrank from that word.

Lord.

It was a courtesy title, something given to minor sons of real lords. Regardless of his future, Quentin knew that he would have to drop the title. A career might be found for him, but not one that led to a title. George might become a Lord Admiral but Luke would never become a Lord Bishop, that was a given. David would never be a lord anything, therefore Quentin would soon drop the title never to regain it.

It was as if the maid had stabbed a knife in his back and twisted it hard.

Forcing his face to remain expressionless, Quentin took his seat at his desk. Ashley turned as she moved sliced beef to his plate, artfully bumping the wooden water goblet.

The water splashed directly on Quentin's crotch. Leaping to his feet, Quentin muttered a curse, something about the devil taking all clumsy maids. He was facing a life without servants and he couldn't even enjoy what little luxury remained to him.

"Oh I am so sorry Lord Quentin." Ashley said. "Here, let me get your trousers off so that they might dry."

"You stupid cow! How could you!" Quentin exclaimed. "I have half a mind to send you to the stable master for a good seeing to!"

Ashley paled at that suggestion. The butler, Reeves, or sometimes the lord himself, saw to most of the household corrections, but for truly major offences (such as breaking a piece of crystal or publicly referring to whose bed they had been warming) the maids were sent to the stable master. He would tie the maid over a rail then thrash her mercilessly. Absolutely mercilessly. Welts were a given and blood often flowed.

"Please your lordship, I shall do anything rather than be stretched over a beam." Ashley pleaded, searching for words that might inspire him to part her thighs. "I will do anything for you, just as I do for your brothers."

Her words sent Quentin's mind racing down memory lane, to one of the times that George was home from sea. Maybe Quentin had been annoying his second elder brother, but he couldn't remember any warnings from his brother. George had taken Quentin to the stables (which were oddly deserted in a way they had not been before or since) and used an old saddle stretched over a beam to show him what "kissing the gunner's daughter" meant. Quentin knew that he might soon be bereft of servants and that he had never been the one holding the strap when a servant required correction.

He might not be able to do much about his overall situation, but by George he could handle this maid himself.

"Then I shall spare the stable master your presence." Quentin said sharply. "Bare your bottom, do it now, and bend over my bed."

"Yes your lordship." Ashley said, a hint of hope entering her voice.

She wasn't sure if he had been serious about sending her to the stable master or even if his order was little more than an excuse to bare her below the waist before ravishing her. Either way, she scrambled to obey. She had planned to strip nude, so had far less under her dress than was normally decent for a household of this rank. Hiking her dress and slip, Ashley exposed the fact that she wore only socks and drawers beneath them. The drawers quickly dropped to her ankles as Ashley exposed her plump bottom. Bending, she made sure to spread her legs to present a seductive sight.

With her legs temptingly open, Ashley focused on that half shilling.

Quentin tore open an armoire, bringing out one of his belts. Looping the buckle end around his fist, he turned to Ashley.

"Don't you move now, not if you value your position here." Quentin commanded, trying to sound like his brother George had on that awful day.

"My position?" Ashley wailed, feeling terror at the bottom of her heart.

"I shall make you sorry for what you have done." Quentin thundered.

"But what about my position?" Ashley begged.

Quentin answered her question by swinging the belt against the older woman's backside. It impacted against her right hip then looped to land on her right bottom cheek, almost contacting her middle crack. Ashley gave a yelp, but Quentin was already drawing back for a second smack, one that soon landed. This time the tip of the strap hit square in the middle of Ashley's right buttock before looping across her crack and onto her right cheek. As the third smack landed, Quentin was admitting to himself that he wasn't the strapper that his brother George was. Then again, George had practice with countless cabin boys, midshipmen, and ensigns whereas Quentin hadn't made Perfect or Head Boy at school. Giving up all attempt at control, Quentin flailed widely, letting the belt land where it would.

Ashley didn't care that Quentin considered himself bad with the strap. She only cared about how the strap felt as it crashed down. Yes, it often landed where it had just hit, but each impact still hurt. As for the times he missed his aim, connecting either with her hip or thigh, those smacks hurt worse as she had less padding on the impact spot to cushion the blow.

Quentin smiled. Swinging that strap was cathartic. Watching the older woman squirm and jerk away from the strap reinforced his place in the world. Quentin could practically feel the stress and worry leaves his body each time that strap made contact. The end of school might bring problems, but that was months away. For the moment he was still Quentin, son of Lord Oak Hill, surrounded by the luxury that was his birthright as a servant scream as he disciplined her. All was right in the world.

The maid's bottom shifted colour, the white fleeing at the arrival of the strap. It shifted to a transitory pink ere the red appeared. That red deepened, shifting into darker shades, then the start of a bruise appeared on her left thigh. Seeing that broke Quentin's trance.

Red skin was one thing, bruises were a step too far for a younger son to inflict, and he was the youngest. That bruise could spell trouble, and it might be only the first of several of off coloured spots that bruised. Reality crashed down on him, but his smile remained.

"You... You can g... go now." Quentin stammered.

Ashley rose slowly. Her shoulders shaking with sobs, Ashley didn't dare even whisper a complaint. What Quentin had done, with his erratic aim, was far less than the lesson that the stable master would have taught her. It was probably less than if she had spilled something on Lord Oak Hill, but then again Ashley would never have been permitted to serve for that august personage. Ashley stepped out of her drawers, which wasn't proper but far better than feeling them encase her throbbing bottom. She bent to pick them up, then walked out, one hand holding her dress above her burning bottom.

Watching her walking away, seeing the sway of her plump bottom, Quentin began to strain against his wet trousers.

Ashley emerged to find three maids waiting for her, Lise having run to inform Lady Elsa of the development. She had run when the strapping had just began and there had been more than enough time for the maid to have returned, so Ashley knew that her ladyship had condoned the strapping.

"He... he spoke... of my... position." Ashley sobbed.

"He must not have meant it." Kath told her. "He couldn't have. Her Ladyship would never permit that, but best we speak to her now."

As Kath helped Ashley limp towards her ladyship's sitting room, Katy decided that she had to go for it.

"Sorry Ashley, but this is my chance " Katy said. "You know my sister's youngest has been having those spells; I need that half shilling for the doctoring."

With a nod to the others, Katy walked into Quentin's room without making the slightest attempt to knock.

Quentin's hand was feeling around behind a wardrobe. He had left a jar of fish oil there during the Christmas hols and if the lid was still tight he would have more than spit on his hand as he remembered the look of Ashley's rolling bottom as she walked from the room. Retrieving it, Quentin smiled to see that it was still a third full.

"Oh Lord Quentin, look at the state of your trousers." Katy said, having heard Ashley's comments after spilling the water.

Quentin turned, instinctively moving the fish oil down to shield the budge in his trousers.

Katy couldn't see that budge, but based her hopes of that half shilling on it being there.

"Why Lord Quentin, look at the size of your johnson." Katy giggled. "You must take after your brother George. He's always so stiff after he sees to an errant maid."

Katy yanked up her dress and slipped to expose her drawers.

"Would your lordship like to have the type of physical relief that Captain George always insists on after doling out a thrashing?"

There was no mistaking her offer for anything but it was. Here was a willing girl. A date with Rosy Palm and her five sisters was now a distant second the delight that might await him.

"Ump." Quentin gulped. "Um, yes please."

He knew what was about to happen. This would be his second time, the first was with a whore from the village who was a "I don't want any doubts that my youngest son is not a shirt lifter" birthday present from his father.

Katy quickly shed her clothes as Quentin practically ripped his off.

"That is a big one." Katy told him, mostly because she knew he would want to hear that. "Now would you be wanting to explore the back passage that your brother the captain favours?"

"Um, yes, well, as to that, um, I'm not sure." Quentin stammered. Belatedly remembering his manners, he delivered the only compliment that he could think of at the moment. "Your bosom is a quite nice one."

Katy giggled artfully, lifting her left breast.

"Thank you Lord Quentin. Most men like looking at my boobies." Katy replied. "Is that oil? How thoughtful. Perfect for the back passage."

"Um, yes, well, um, I must concede that my vocabulary is not up to the occasion."

Katy dropped her eyes to his waist.

"You mustn't say that Lord Quentin. 'Tis a very nice vocabulary that you have and it is up and straight and ready for use."

"Um, no, vocabulary is, um, words thingie. I just don't know what you mean about passages."

Katy picked up the jar of fish oil and took Quentin's hand with her free hand.

"Don't worry Lord Quentin." Katy said as she led him to the bed. "I can explain everything without using words thingie."

Thus she did.

As he rocked inside of her, Quentin couldn't help but thinking:

'All those years at a public school and I never ever thought of buggering a girl.'

Quentin lasted as long as he could, then collapsed in the bed.

"That was wonderful Lord Quentin." Katy lied as she reached for her clothing.

Not a fan of the back passage, she hadn't been close to finishing when she joined Quentin's ecstatic screams. She would finish things later in her room, but that was a small price to pay. Katy would trade a buggered bottom against the change of pregnancy any day of the week.

Quentin muttered something, but Katy wasn't listening. She dressed and rushed off before the younger boy could say anything embarrassing. She knew that a boy might say he loved his first, that she might be Quentin's first, and that if Quentin claimed to love her then she would have a date with the stable master for charming his heart.

Katy found Sarah waiting for her just outside Quentin's door.

"Where's..." Katy whispered.

"She went to tell her ladyship when we heard you calling 'enter me there Lord Quentin, oh, oh, bugger me hard'." Sarah answered.

"I didn't say that, did I?" Katy gasped.

"No, you screamed it. Come on, her ladyship will want to see you."


Lady Elsa didn't want to know many details. Her one question, about the smell of fish, told her more than she needed to know. She knew that her son had enjoyed himself, but didn't need to know what position he had chosen.

"I expect he wanted to try buggering because his lord father insisted he not try that with the whore."

"The what?" Katy asked in disbelief.

"Oh, when he was younger his lordship arranged for woman from the village to teach Quentin about ladies." Lady Elsa said dismissively. "It was to keep the boy from bothering the maids too much. He did it with all the lads. Now for what happened today. Ashley, giving a good thrashing might have been all he needed. Heavens knows that it can be relaxing at times."

Ashley nodded, trying not think about those times Lady Elsa relieved her own stress that way. Some seasons it was almost a monthly event.

"Katy, I am sure that seeing Ashley's round bottom made the boy as stiff as a rod." Lady Elsa continued. "Both of you gave him physical relief, thus both of you shall have a half shilling."

Both maids bobbed their heads.

"And Katy, I am given to understand that your sister's youngest might not be in the best of health." Lady Elsa continued. "Please inform her that she is to take the tyke to the village doctor and he is too send the bill to my account, not his lordship's. Including that of a specialist if need be. I am, however, disappointed that you did not inform me of this yourself. When you have washed, you will see Reeves and inform him that you are due a touch of the stick for incurring my mild annoyance."

"Yes your Ladyship. Thank you your Ladyship." Katy bobbed.

She was indeed thankful. Since it was "mild annoyance" rather than "displeasure" Katy was sure that her bottom would be in much better shape for sitting than Ashley's would be, and with Lady Elsa standing for the doctor bills, Katy could keep the money for herself.

"I do not want there to be any secrets in my house. Do you have anything else that you wish to share with me?" Lady Elsa asked.

"Um, well Lord Quentin calls his prick 'vocabulary'." Katy responded. "And he wasn't sure if it was up to the act even when it was straight."

"I believe that you misunderstood him." Lady Elsa smiled. "Vocabulary is a word that means all of the words you know. He must have said that he didn't understand something you had said."

"Oh. He did say something about that." Katy agreed.

"Does anyone else have news to share? No one is speaking up? That is fine. Now be off with you lot." Lady Elsa told them.

The six maids curtsied and left.


Quentin was nervous at the beginning of the evening meal, convinced that everyone must know every detail of his afternoon adventure. He relaxed near the end of the meal, convinced that no one other than the two maids knew anything and only the latter maid knew all. In that he was mistaken; the entire staff knew how he had thrashed Ashley (over nothing) and then buggered Katy. Half of them also thought that Quentin called his penis 'vocabulary', but that was a matter of some debate below stairs. Of course none would publicly acknowledge what they knew. As for the family, all but his youngest sister knew the vague outline, but none considered it worth mentioning. If he had seized a maid and attacked her then they would have talked to him about it, but all save Quentin and his youngest sister knew that Lady Elsa had made the arrangement.

That evening, Lady Elsa had a quiet word with her husband. Lord Oak Hill was a man who knew his own mind, but he also knew wise words when he heard them. With a nod he put plans into motions writing letters and working out who to talk to. His own plan lay discarded, but could still be partially used as a backup in case Quentin was not able to follow a simple plan.

It took a bit of doing, but what was Easter if not an excuse to talk to friends, family, and other connections as you charted your child's destiny?


On the evening before Quentin's scheduled return to classes, he was in the library going through last year's annual, looking for clues of what he might do after he finished his classes. Explorers seemed to be respectable enough, but they all seemed to need financing for their expeditions and Quentin couldn't see his family financing more than a train ride to London.

Lord Oak Hill put his head in the library door.

"Ah, there you are. When you have a moment I would like to see you in my study so I can have a talk with you."

Then he was gone, already walking towards his study.

Quentin winced at those words. They implied that his father had already made up his mind on his son's future, otherwise Lord Oak Hill would have said "so we can have a talk". The man carefully chose his words when speaking, a practice he had picked up in the House of Lords. Still, it wasn't like Quentin had any real choice in the matter. Filled with misgivings, he made his way to his father's private study. Entering, he found his father going through some papers.

"Ah, good, no dillydallying." Lord Oak Hill said. "Sit, there."

Quentin took the specified chair.

"Now we may have left this a bit late, but dash it all, I thought you were in the lower six, giving us an extra year to find a place for you. You may thank your mother for pointing out that your schooldays are almost behind you."

"I shall thank her." Quentin said, meaning it. The only thing worse than being forced into a bad future was having nothing planned at all.

" But in the time since she mentioned it, I've had a chance to talk to people at my club and other places. Now you shouldn't worry, it's all planned out." Lord Oak Hill said. "All it needs is a bit, well, call it effort on your part. I know, I know, that should not be required, but you do have older brothers and your sisters need marrying off."

"I shall..."

Quentin wasn't able to finish his sentence. His father hadn't paused to allow him to talk, but to take a breath.

"The plan is for you to become a judge. Not a barrister or solicitor, by Jove that would be a touch too close to trade, but a respectable judge." Lord Oak Hill told him. "In the fall you shall begin reading Law at a respectable college, that's been arranged already, then you shall become a magistrate. I know, I know, the initial role will be a minor one, but by Jove, with our connections you shall wear a black cap within a decade. As for higher duties, such as Law Lord, I fear I must tell you that the post of Law Lord has too much merit attached to it. For you to join your brother in the House of Lords you would need be one of the finest minds to sit at a bench, and I shan't expect you to rise that far. Should you surprise me, by Jove that would be a wonderful day, but I truly shan't expect it. Now what is needed from you is for you to buckle down at your studies. As long as your grades aren't a disaster then all will go as planned; when I arranged for you to read Law I made it clear that you weren't the greatest scholar the world has ever seen and that has become part of the first stage of the plan. It is already arranged for you to spend the months between the end of your upper sixth and the start of college at the local courthouse. There you shall be apprenticing, articling, or whatever they call it for one of the local magistrates. Learning a bit of law and learning the role of a judge. Overseeing part of the paperwork, witnessing that sentences are carried out for minor crimes, that kind of thing. No, it isn't the Old Bailey, but by Jove it is a start."

"Thank you for putting so much..."

Again Quentin had mistaken a longer than normal pause for breath for a chance to speak.

"But this can all come to not." Lord Oak Hill told his son. "There are limits to the resources we can devote to your future. Why, to get things this far I have had to guarantee my vote on certain issues. I had planned to vote that way in any case, but by Jove it irks me to sell my vote. Makes me feel like a common fishmonger. That is where you come in. Once you begin reading Law you need earn good marks, or at least acceptable ones. If you fail at that then the whole plan comes apart. Nod if you can perform your role."

Quentin nodded.

"Good lad, now off for you. The school train will be by in the morning and I shan't have it waiting for you. Off to your room to finish packing."


Later, Lord Oak Hill had a talk with his wife.

"He took it well, and I think he just might have the brains for it to work." Lord Oak Hill told her. "'Tis a pity that the votes aren't closer ones else we should have him appointed even if he was drooling simpleton like the Foxworthe lad was."

"I am sure he will apply himself." Lady Elsa replied. "Once he see those farm girls and shop girls being taken to task, caned and strapped, I am convinced that Quentin will really buckle down and study."

"But is law the right direction?" Lord Oak Hill asked. "I had thought he might become a doctor, just for the joy of taking off women's clothes."

"He would never be a great specialist, he doesn't have the brains for that, and nothing below Harley Street would do." Lady Elsa pointed out. "If he went into medicine he would need to travel to the colonies or do missionary work."

"Hmp. In truth, the alternative would have included having Luke find Quentin a role on a mission somewhere so isolated that they would take any doctor willing to go there." Lord Oak Hill admitted. "Should the judgeship fail, then I do believe I shall have to publicly mention my colonial investments and send Quentin out to manage them."

"Colonial investments? Which are those?"

"Well I should need to make one, perhaps a small coffee plantation somewhere. A place where none of our friends shall see him." Lord Oak Hill revealed. "Something that will produce food for his table, a few servants to look after him, and maybe a pound of profit a year."

Lady Elsa wanted to say that no son of hers would ever be banished to the colonies, but she knew how her husband hated to be contradicted. Instead she reiterated that she was sure that Quentin would work his best at becoming a judge.


After his first day on at the courthouse, Quentin vowed to become the best student that he could possibly be. The morning spent in court had been boring, but that afternoon he had overseen the bailiffs delivering the sentences. The sight of six women, stripped below the waist, bent over the whipping bench, sent him as stiff as Ashley had. Watching the punishments as they were doled out for relatively minor offences, Quentin knew that one day he would be the one to sentence women to those punishments.

The vow to study only grew stronger as the summer progressed. There were times when the bailiffs allowed him to take a hand in the proceedings, instructing him on the best ways to do. Sometimes the sentences were partly at their discretion, and the bailiffs had slyly told him how some of the women offered them favours to leave the punishments at the minimum. Her Majesty might not know of these exchanges that happened in her courthouses, but as Queen Victoria was a mother so many times over it was clear Her Majesty knew how those bailiffs were bribed.

That fall Quentin threw himself into his studies, surprising both his family and his old schoolmates. Each time he came closer to faltering, Quentin focused on those girls squirming under the strap, cane, and birch - a vision that gave him the strength to carry on. Working against him was the simple fact that he didn't have the best legal mind in the college, but that only made him work harder to get the grades that would see him to the magistrate's bench. To the shock of many, Quentin graduated near the top of his class, well above the point his family needed him to achieve to arrange for his appointment. He lacked the brains to finish at the top of his class, but ironically enough he graduated with the fifth highest marks in his year.

Goodgulf