Part 1.

In the county of Northumbria, nestled snugly in a green patchwork quilt of rolling hills and wild rivers sat the small market town of PagansWart.

The dwellings that made up Woodcutters Lane were like most others except for one small abode. Built long ago when life was simpler, kinder and goodwill was abroad amongst all men, it sat hidden down a blind back alley away from the more normal offerings of commerce and trade. Standing two storys high, it was strong and sturdy having weathered the tests and ravishes of time. Within its walls, life was lived, wares were bartered or bought and where many a tall tale echoes like a mournful ghost bemoaning its fate to the dead of the night. During its lifetime, this building has seen many faces from cobbler, fishmonger, pawnbroker, grocer to a tinker. Each adding their own page to the history within it's walls.

Our tale shall begin here.

*

Christmas 1897

With snowflakes falling and surrounded by tall, dancing shadows cast by the setting winter sun, a small figure scurried breathlessly through the alley.

Elizabeth Rose grasped the hem of her swirling black skirt as she ran, her small boots crunching in the freshly fallen snow as her imagination conjured phantom figures lurking in the black as pitch coves of Woodcutters Lane. Reaching up to clasp her bonnet, she glanced over her shoulder looking back into the night from where she fled, her fear washing over her good sense for she imagined the fine hairs on the nape of her neck prickle as if someone was watching her.

But to her wide blue eyes, the alley sat silent, dark and still.

Gasping with relief, she finally reached its mouth where she screeched to a halt, looking this way and that as she tried to compose herself for she was about to enter PagansWart's main square where the hubbub of the mingling masses were enjoying the last few days before the Christmas break. Not only that, it was a Tuesday and it was market day.

Sellers, stallholders, traders, shirkers, tinkers and most likely pickpockets came from miles around to partake in the age old ritual of barter which brightened up the mundane existence of those that lived in the shire. Situated in the main square, surrounded by lop-sided, red tiled, white fronted, black latticed shop fronts, the market was a hive of activity built around rickety stalls laden down with wares of all types and persuasion supplemented with wagon traders selling lotions, potions, cures fer this and that from the backs of their carts.

With heaving breast, she becalmed her thudding heart and taking a deep breath stepped out into the babbling throng. To the curious onlooker, Ms Rose was a comely lass, fair blonde of mane, short, slight in stature with surprising strength forged from long hours in the mills but with a fine turn of heel that bedecked her with a fetching sweetness that was slightly offset by the naughty gleam and knowing glint in her blue eyes.

Indeed, if the patrons mingling about the market that winter's day realised what she had been up to not an hour beforehand many a shock would be gasped and many a fan would be unfurled to hide a blossoming blush. For as Lizzie wound her way through the market, she could only think of one thing as she grasped the shilling in her pocket.

Her backside didn't half throb like a sore tooth.!!

Surrounded by the stench of spiked pig roasting on a spit mixing with the putrid ness of the great unwashed, she stopped and turned to look from whence she came. Reaching behind her, cupping her bustle to give it a soothing rub, she winced at the memory.

Of Mr Tiggywinkle.

The gentleman who lived at number twenty-two Woodcutters Lane and who was the owner of Ye Old Spank Shop.

*

Percival Tiggywinkle stepped back as Mr Baldock the carpenter hammered in the final nail. From the top of his ladder, the thick set craftsman turned to his customer.

"There e' go Sir, ow's that. Is it straight now ?" he asked as he leaned so far back that he was in serious danger of doing himself an injury.

Mr Tiggywinkle reached up and rubbed his chin. "First class Mr Baldock, first class if I say so meself. Tis a fine banner you've crafted Sir and at a fair price." he smiled.

The carpenter nodded. "That be music to a workin' man's ear's Sir. Now just let me give the wood a bit o' spit and polish then we'll call it a job suitably done."

*

Packing up his tools in a goatskin bag, Mr Baldock humbly accepted his dues and was about to take his leave when he paused at the door. "Er, this 'ere establishment yer about to open. Be it for, what I thinks it's for?" he asked, reaching up to scratch his thinning pate.

The new owner smiled and nodded. Splendid. Now here was an opportunity for some much needed free advertising, for he knew the Carpenter was a frequent visitor to all the watering holes hereabouts and could no doubt be counted on to spread the word of his new venture far and wide.

"Indeed Sir, indeed." he nodded. "A grand idea tis it not ?"

Harry Baldock stared around the room. Well, when Mr Tiggywinkle had first come into his joinery and asked him to make a shopfront banner for his new enterprise, he had nearly dropped his hammer in surprise !!

But now, looking around.

It made sense....sort of. "Aye Sir, mayhap yer right. Sometimes a gent needs a bit of help keeping his fancy on the straight and narrow from time to time. I tell you Sir, they'll be wanting the vote next !!" he laughed.

Slapping him on the shoulder, Mr Tiggywinkle followed him out into the alley where several passers-by were gawping at this newest addition to PagansWart.

Mr Baldock noticed the bemused and not a little shocked gazes. "I think yer gonna find yerself with many a curious visitor Mr Tiggywinkle of that I'm sure." he laughed. He turned and doffed his cap. "G'day Sir. Ye never know, perhaps we'll meet again one day soon. Yer little shop has given me a seam of rich idea's that a working man with a spouse and four wilful daughter's should keep in mind !!" With a wave, he set off down the cobbled street, whistling a cheery tune as the winter sun slid slowly behind a skyline of puffing chimney pots.

Reaching up to straighten his handlebar moustache, Mr Tiggywinkle turned to find himself standing toe to toe with a rather smartly dressed lady of mature leaning. He clicked his heels and bowed. "A very good winters evening to you Madam."

Beneath her yellow bonnet, the lady looked from his smile to the sign above his door then back at him again, her mouth agape in surprise. Flushing red, she reached into her large purse, fished out an ivory fan and with a flourish, feathered it open to hide her face. "I seriously doubt that good Sir. A very good day to YOU!!" she replied haughtily and marched off without a backward glance.

He watched her disappear down the lane and he doffed an imaginary cap. "One day Madam, perhaps one day." he smiled as his eye's fell on her retreating broad beam.

*

Ye Old Spanke Shop was an instant success. That very next morning when he flipped his little sign over from "closed" to "open" for the first time, Mr Tiggywinkle found himself with a queue of curious onlooker's patiently waiting outside his doors for opening time.

No doubt the Carpenter had spent the night liberally telling lurid tales to the men folk as he drank his fill in many an ale house. His strategy had worked it seemed.

Of one thing there was no doubt. For the female populace of PagansWart, there would be many a tear shed as a result of many a rosy glow from this day forth.

*

Mr Tiggywinkle was of fine character and bearing.

He had reached the ripe old age of 52, bore a rambling mop of grey, was of lanky means, skinny with it and had a hearty jaunt topped off with a warm manner and charming gaze.

Since his new establishment had opened, he had built up a healthy customer base who visited regularly to bid him good-day and peruse his latest wares. At the end of each day, he would shut up shop, retire to his upstair's room where he'd check his takings and record his sales in a leather bound big red book. With each item tallied, he could forecast which items he'd need to buy wholesale regularly, which to discard and so on.

Under flickering candle-light some things were clear. The long bladed leather strap, made with a craftsman's eye and quality hide was his most popular item, why in the past week alone he had sold thirty such items. With quill in hand, he smiled imagining the scene's being played out in households near and far. Nothing like a taste of the strap to bring a wife or daughter to heel. Perching his round spectacles on the edge of his nose, he ran his finger down the tally to see what his most popular items were.

Pictures, illustrations and books. It seemed the fine upstanding gentlemen of PagansWart liked to see and read of the erotic exploits of others just as much as the upper classes down in the big smoke. He had bought those item's on a whim during a visit to the spires of London. He had happened upon a small shop hidden away in a notorious part of the city, just north of the Thames where charlatans and ladies of dubious persuasion hawked their not so obvious charms. In a bleak corner he had found them stacked on a dusty shelf, after a brief perusal he had bought the lot fer they had tickled his fancy.

Sitting back in his chair, he certainly hadn't expected them to be so popular. Drumming his fingertips on his desk, a thought occurred to him. A slow smiled crept upon his face.

"I wonder..."

*

Stepping back to let a Hanson cab pulled by four shires rumble past, Elizabeth Rose could feel her belly grumbling its discontent. "Oh hush." she muttered to herself as she stepped carefully onto the cobbled street, wrapping her woollen shawl tighter around her as the first flush of snowfall swirled about in the chill of a winters breeze. All around her people were scurrying too and fro as she made her way tiredly home across the market square after another day labouring in the mill workhouse nearby. It was a Friday and with just a week to go till Micklemass, the populace of PagansWart were out in numbers, stocking up with supplies to tide them over the two day holiday period. As befitting the time of the season, the stores were festooned with decorations which made each window fair burst with colour. Each traditional tree was draped with paper tinsel and had mock parcels adorning the base and to top off the festive scene, the local schoolchildren were gathered in the square, glowing tavern lamps in hand or on stick to sing carols and ask for donations for the sick and needy.

Mr Hattersley the Butcher was especially doing a roaring trade with a wide assortment in sizes of turkey, chicken, duck and goose hanging from pirate-hooks in his shop window.

Lizzie paused, surrounded by the yellow glow of lamp-light she pressed her nose up against the window of Mr Tuttle's Bookstore and sighed as her eyes wandered over the covers of his Christmas display and to stare at one book in particular. "I wish...I wish." she mumbled to herself. She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out her purse, frowning as she counted its contents. It was no use, the pittance she earned at the mill wasn't enough what with having to keep not only herself but her widowed mother and two younger sisters who were still at school. Her mother was unable to work due to problems with surviving the pox, so her wage was the only money coming into the household to put food on the table. As ever, a situation made worse with Christmas around the corner, still, during the year she had tried to put one or two coppers away to be able to make merry and buy one or two presents to make a day of it.

Trouble was it left nothing for herself.

She knew in her heart of hearts, that her wish would remain just that...a wish. With a sigh, she closed her small purse, tucked it away, stepped back into the night and turned to make her way home dreaming of far away lands and explorers tales told in a big blue book.

As young Ms Rose set off home for the weekend, heavy of heart and pondering how she might be able to earn an extra shilling or two she would have been shocked to know that her "salvation" and the solution to her problem was at that precise moment pasting a small notice onto a wall at the end of the alley to Woodcutters Lane.

*

Early the following morning, Lizzie was up lighting the fire in the black and sooty grate to warm the house up before her mother or younger sisters were up. Still dressed in her long white nightdress, she opened the front door to a world to the first major snowfall of the winter. Turning to close the door against the chilly wind, she set the kettle on the grate to make a hot cup of tea to warm herself up for the start of the day just as her mother came into the kitchen. "Brrrrr, its freezing Lizzie, has the snow settled ?" asked her mother who wobbled into the room rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Aye mam. Enough to cover me boots I reckon. I've just set fire away so sit yerself down and I'll make yer a bit of breakfast while I wait for the kettle to boil." she smiled as she walked to the pantry to get the bag of oats to make some steaming porridge. A little while later after they had eaten their fill, her mother looked across the kitchen table at her eldest daughter.

"Are you off out Lizzie to town today ?"

Lizzie nodded as she sat licking the porridge from her tablespoon. "Aye mam. Think I'll try to get us a chicken fer Sunday dinner from the Butchers. Some tetties, carrots and peashoots too ."

Her mother reached across and laid her hand over her daughter's. "Yer a good lass dearest, tis a hard time for us all what with buying fer Christmas and all, sooner yer sisters are finished school and earning their keep the better.." she smiled sadly, knowing the burden their situation had put on her eldest daughters young shoulders.

Lizzie clasped her mothers warm hand for they both knew the answer to their problems.

She needed to earn more money.

*

The sun hung like a yellow crystal in a blue pallid sky as Lizzie made her way through the snow covered streets of PagansWart. Dressed in a long grey dress hidden under a woollen black coat and cape with a bright red scarf wrapped around her shoulders to keep out the draught, she skipped across the lane carrying a sizeable chicken and assorted vegetables in her string bag. It had been a most productive morning, she had managed to get a good deal and save a few pennies by bartering with the Butcher for the biggest clucker on the hook...each copper piece saved would be put aside to buy knick-knacks for Christmas. As she was wont to do, Lizzie spent the rest of the morning window shopping, wistfully gazing at things she wished she could buy if only she had the means. With the big day drawing nearer, the pang of spendthrift gnawed her to the very marrow of her fine bones. She had to find a way of earning an extra income !!

Outside the Bookstore, she lent forward and rested her forehead against the window, her brow furrowing in helpless frustration at her destitute situation.

"Good day Miss, are you thinkin' of spending your hard earned wages then ?" came a voice over her left shoulder.

Not a little startled, she gasped, turning with wide eyes to find the son of the local Council Yeoman smiling at her. Blinking with shyness, she took a second to compose herself and still her thudding heart. To mask her feelings and gather her wits, she made a show of brushing the flakes of snow from her clothes as they settled on her.

"Oh, I umm Sir, ye gave me such a fright ye did. A a gentleman would of coughed to make himself known so he would." she admonished him as she flushed warmly.

Alain DeBoar held his hand's up in apology, smiling and shaking his head. "I fear I am but an oaf when it comes to social grace's Miss but I bear ye no ill will." he laughed as he watched her studiously avoiding his gaze due to excessive shyness. A trait which he found very becoming on so pretty a lass.

Glancing up at him beneath fair lashes, she shrugged her shoulders. "I was but teasing Sir. No harm done. In truth, I was just seeing what to buy my younger sisters as presents.

DeBoar let his warm gaze drop from her sparkling blue eyes to the full wide gleam of her smile and her perfect white teeth. For a lass of common stock and mill labour, she was a fine sight as she grasped her string bag in front of her, fiddling with the straps and buckles nervously. Like her family, he had lived all his years in PagansWart with his father and mother regarded as fine upstanding citiziens with a line stretching back generations to the Norman conquest.

At a rounded twenty-seven, Alain DeBoar had followed his father into family law and as befitting his civic duty, earned an extra few shillings on the side as a trusted officer of the local guard with ten men under him who upheld the laws of the land in the district. He bore himself well, of sizeable height - over 6ft or so, dark of complexion with a hint of the pox mark on his sculptured cheeks, an affliction he had thankfully fought off in his younger years. He was, according to town gossip, still single and unattached although when he had to attend functions as per his office he would usually have a titled lady on his sleeve to accompany him for proprieties sake.

Even the common women who toiled in the mills beneath the clacks and clicks of the spindles and looms talked about him, nudging each other whenever he rode by on his tour of duty. It was a rich topic of amusement and speculation that even Elizabeth Rose found herself drawn into whenever her friends gathered to eat their bait at dinnertimes. Daydream dreams. But in their hearts they knew he was a class above them.

Now, standing tongue-tied before him, Lizzie smiled at the memory of whispered words.

DeBoar, seeing the faint smile furrowed his brow in bemusement and now, even more intrigued with this young woman, inspected her person closer. He knew of the Rose family, living off Church Way, over the years he had watched the family forge a hard living with the father, mother and then eventually, after the passing of the pater and the illness of the mother to the pox, the daughter earning a hard living in the Mill Workhouses that dominated the area due to the abundance of sheep farming in the shire.

A head lower than him, she just about reached his chin with her glorious blonde hair tied back with red bowed ribbon sitting daintily on her crown leaving a waterfall of mane hanging down her back. Underneath her simple black cape, he could see the silhouette of her figure built strong with hard labour, pleasing in shape with her upper body sweeping like a swallow to wide hips tapering down atop long legs. He knew her name, knew she had seen nineteen summers. He had checked the town-hall records one day many years ago on a whim when he had first seen her playing with friends as he fished on the riverbank.

She had been fourteen. Dressed in a blue and white smock that reached below her knee's and black woollen stockings, she had run carefree with her schoolfriends without a worry in the world. She had borne the next five years well, no doubt the death of her father had changed her outlook on life as well as her duties. Letting his eyes rove over her frame, they settled with a frown on the swell of her chest, all to prominent even under a mound of clothing.

"Sir ?"

He blinked and looked up to find her staring at him with a curious, pensive look in her eyes. Ah...caught admiring a jewel. He stepped back. "Forgive me Miss, my mind was on other things. I shall bid ye good day and best wishes for the season, kindly pass on my regards to your family." he bowed his head.

Lizzie returned the nod. "Thank ye Sir I shall. With the weather turning I should be off lest we both freeze. A Merry Christmas tide ter you and your's too." she replied, lifting her gaze and overcoming her shyness to stare into his dark eyes. It was but a brief glance, a moment in time but the contact of souls sparked and flickered as something passed between them...something unspoken.

Confused, with a flush she broke the spell and looked down to take a shivery breath. With a hesitant step back, she reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face then turned and set off across the square to head for home. As she made her way through the crowds, she knew he was standing there watching her. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as a warmth washed over her making her tingle from head to toe.

She wanted him to watch her even if it was only in her dreams.

*

Alain DeBoar stepped forward and leaned his arm against the lampost with the snow falling heavily now. His eyes followed her. With her sun like hair, she was easy to follow in the crowd of grey's and black. He was about to turn away when he saw her pass the alley to Woodcutters Lane. She had stopped to look at a sign stuck on the wall. He watched as she walked on a few steps hesitantly then paused again. Finally, she looked around and thinking no one was watching her, she turned back and stepped forward to re-read the bill more closely.

He saw her grasp her bag to her chest, look around again as if she was worried someone had seen her reading the bill then to his surprise, she walked hesitantly into the alley of Woodcutters Lane.

*

Alain DeBoar stared at the message.

He turned and stepped into the alley opening looking to where the young Miss Rose had disappeared into not a moment before.

His gaze returned to the bill.

His shock and surprise was all engulfing.

She couldn't have gone there ?

But he knew she had. "What are you up to bonny lass....what are you up to.?" he murmured as he stared at the address on the white sheet.

Number twenty-two. Woodcutters Lane.

"Ye Old Spank Shop ?" he wondered aloud.

*

A little while later.

The stench of hops, sweat and tobacco hung in the air as Alain DeBoar stared at the candle reflections rippling in the dark waters of his mead. About him, the swarm like murmur of humanity buzzed loudly as the alehouse filled up with its regulars enjoying a Saturday out in PagansWart. Serving wenches, dressed in billowing, white blouses showing ample bosom and swishing, black skirts that were just the right side of decent paraded around the tables carrying jugs of ale whilst trying to avoid many a pair of drunken hands looking to pinch a choice seat that happened to wander near. In the dark recesses of hidden coves, tales were told, arguments fought over and merry songs were drunkenly sung with lyrics both festive and crude.

But for one man, sitting alone near the window, the daily life of the Red Lion Inn mattered little for his mind and eyes were elsewhere this winters day. Making sure of a window seat, DeBoar had ordered a best bitter and sat facing out into the market square with an unhindered view of the alley to Woodcutters Lane.

Watching.

Waiting.

For her.

*

Deboar stepped back from reading the message posted on the wall, the message he had seen the young Ms Rose reading not five minutes before. What on earth was she up to ? Surely she wasn't going to enquire about that. He looked at the last line and frowned.

"A fair sum paid.."

As the breeze picked up and the snowfall glittered around him it suddenly dawned on him. "The money." he muttered. "She needs the money."

*

Mr Tiggywinkle let his spectacle's slide down and perch on the end of his nose as he looked at the young lady standing before him blushing prettily as her eye's stared roundly at the trinket's in his shop. "Now are ye sure ye understand what the er...position entails my dear?" he asked kindly, not believing his luck that so comely a lass had not only put herself forward for his requirements, but had even the courage to step through his front door in the first place.

With her face blushing red, Lizzie chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she considered what she was letting herself in for. When she had seen the note by chance, her good sense had nearly made her walk on by. But something...something had made her stop and turn back. Frowning as she read the entire advert, she had been left in no doubt what would be required of her if she put herself forward for the position. Not least of which was her backside.

But her eyes had settled on the last line. "A fair sum paid."

The prospect of an extra few shillings rang the bells in her head, but could she let someone do...do THAT to her person ?

Come to think of it, what else might she be asked to do ?

With a start, she realised she was no stranger to the feel of the hand or lash for her dear father had ruled his household with a stern manner and many a time when wiles got the better of her and her sisters he had ordered them to bare and bend for a bakers dozen with his fearsome strop. As she thought of the emotions that used to wash over her as she waited for her punishment, she felt a shiver she'd not felt for many a year - the shiver of anticipation.

"Think of the money." she had murmured as if goading herself on. Clasping her string bag to her bosom, taking a very deep breath to steady her nerves, she stepped into the overhanging shadows of the alley and made her way down Woodcutters Lane to the Ye Old Spanke Shop.

*

She nodded. "A...aye Sir. I think so. A shilling by the hand and three by the strap or bamboo." she stuttered, finishing shyly by glancing at the elderly gentleman under wary lashes.

He smiled and nodded. "My dear. You have my word as a gentleman that you will be treated with the utmost respect and civility as well as being safe about your person." he reassured her, "And fret not about the small group who will observe the proceedings for they understand they will be sworn to secrecy and that what we do under this roof shall stay within these four walls and that your identity will remain a mystery. On my honour Ms Rose."

Lizzie looked up. "M...mystery ?"

She watched as the man smiled. "Aye lass, only I will know who you are."

Lizzie frowned, wondering how her identity would remain unknown to the watchers. "But, but how Sir. If I'm to be ...be punished in front of them how will they not know ?" she asked, her voice breathless with concern and wariness.

He raised a finger and twitched his nose. Turning, he went behind his counter to rummage in a drawer. "You will wear this."

Even Lizzie smiled as he faced her holding "A mask ?!" she laughed.

He slipped it on over his grey head. "They seek him here, they seek him there.." he huffed.

Enjoying the charade, Lizzie clapped her hands despite herself. "For they seek that elusive scoundrel everywhere!!" she giggled.

As if sweeping off an imaginary hat, he swept her a low bow. "Touché Mademoiselle." he smiled, winking at her through the tanned leather mask which covered his face from forehead to the top of his hairy upper lip. Slipping it off, he gave it to her. "Try it on my dear."

Making eyes at him, she eased it over her pretty face fiddling with the strap to make sure the fit was comfortable.

Mr Tiggywinkle nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect. No one will know who you are Ms Rose....no one.

*

Pulling her red shawl and coat tighter to keep out the whispering chill, Elizabeth Rose emerged from the alley shadows of Woodcutters Lane. With a sense of relief that no one was taking a blind bit of notice of who she was and where she had come from, she quickly skipped forward into the madding crowd to make her way home and ponder her new "employment" and the prospect of extra coinage.

Trudging along, her boots slipping in the slush, she thought of Mr Tiggywinkle's last words. "Now my dear, seeing that there's a trust between us I was intendin' to put on a first show this coming Tuesday afternoon around tea-time say fourish. I'll shut up shop early and invite one or two of my regulars to come visit. If ye be willing Lizzie, oh, can I call ye Lizzie ?"

With pursed lips, she bobbed her head. "Aye Sir, seeing as yer me new employer and all."

"Good, good, best get off on the right foot. Now, ye say you're a Mill lass. Will that be a problem with yer time ?" he asked, reaching over to pick up a taper to light his pipe.

"That be true Sir, I toil in the workhouse as a stitcher but its doors are shut fer Micklemass 'til after the turn of the year so if ye want me to attend on Tuesday coming so be it. I'll be here around a quarter to the hour if that be ter yer liking." she finished getting to her feet and fastening the buttons on her coat.

"Splendid, splendid. We have a bargain, I shall inform only those in the know when to attend." he said delightedly, coming to stand beside her. Taking her right hand, he bent forward and briefly kissed her knuckle before clasping it in handshake.

Lizzie smiled sweetly, no one had ever done that before, but then...."Mr Tiggywinkle Sir, you shouldn't." she exclaimed, looking at the coin resting in the palm of her hand.

He raised a finger to her lips.

"Ssssh lass, think of it as a wee treat for being so accommodating. Now go on, I shall see you three days hence when we have our little get together and fret not dear lady for you will be treated like a treasure amongst us. Now be off home with ye !!" he grinned, giving her a slight pat on her rump to send her on her way.

Lizzie squeaked, her blond ponytail and red-ribbon dancing around her blushing face. "Sir !!" With a wagging finger, she turned and left the shop with Mr Tiggywinkle chuckling and waving at the door.

*

But Lizzie was mistaken.

Someone had seen her.

Someone had been waiting and watching...for her.

Alain DeBoar sat forward as she emerged from the alley. His brooding eyes riveted to the slight figure huddled against the pains of winter, watching like a hawk as his quarry stared at something in the palm of her hand then with a brief glance left and right, step forward to become lost in a tide of humanity.

As she disappeared from sight, he got to his feet, drained the last of his dregs and left the Inn.

*

For Lizzie, the following days passed slowly with her mind in a permanent state of confusion and vexation that made her excited and nervous all at the same time. Even her sisters had noticed the change in her mood, for it was rare for their eldest sibling to be still in bed on a holiday Monday with the sun high in the sky and nearing mid-day.

"Are ye alright Lizzie, ye've been actin' funny these past two days ?" asked Gertrude, who at fourteen bore a shock of unruly ginger hair that had a life of its own and a face that was as freckled as those with the pox.

"I agree." echoed Beatrice, the youngest of the Rose clan at twelve and who was as bright as a button and precocious with it, "I fink sumfink is bothering you Lizzie." she lisped. Then with a nudge to her sister. "P'raps our Lizzie is faint of heart. Mayhap someone has taken her fancy !!" she laughed, causing both of the younger girl's to giggle behind clenched fists.

Lizzie just made a face and threw a pillow at them. "Pish tush you two, no more teasing lest Father Christmas greet's a locked door and blocked chimney!!" she scolded.

As they skipped from the shared bedroom grumbling, Lizzie flopped back onto the bed and stared at the whitewashed and cracked ceiling. Resting her forearm on her brow, she closed her eyes. Even now, she could feel her bottom start to quiver in anticipation.

*

With the festive holiday well under way, the town of PagansWart was a hive of jollity and activity as it prepared to see in the festival with a huge fur tree sat squat in the middle of it's townsquare and bedecked and draped with all manner of decorations. At its foot, carollers sang, bells were rung and people made merry which was as good an excuse as any to forget the worries of life and hard living.

The Red Lion Inn was especially busy that day with traders coming in from far and wide to prepare for the most important day of the year, the Tuesday yuletide market. With its tavern festooned for the season, it was packed to its oak rafters with people drinking themselves into a stupor as befitting the time of the year. It was a crisp day out with the breath hanging like a lakeland mist as the air crackled, the biting frost adding a sheen to the compacted fall of overnight snow.

Alain DeBoar stamped his feet before making his way inside the Inn. Smiling at the regulars, he made his way to a window seat where he undid his black overcoat and eased himself down.

"G'd day Sir. Wot can I get yea this chilly morn apart from meself like ?" came a voice to his left. He looked up to find Bertha, a serving lass of more mature years by far leaning over him with her low cut bodice straining to contain a fine pair of milky white bosoms as she rested both her hands on the table.

DeBoar sat back and smiled. "Ahh lass, I fear your charms befuddle my mind. Let me see, I shall have a mug of yer best bitter and the house special for today, which is ?" he asked.

"Duck Sir, Mr Potter did bring down a number of mallard at sunrise. But mind fer the pellets Sir. He used his blunderbus coz his eyesight is not what it once was ye see. Just fer you, Bertha will bring the best cut's from the breast, a succulent leg with roasted potatoes, carrots and sprouts as well." she smiled, her uneven teeth glinting in the sunlight as it streamed in through the window.

"That will be fine Bertha, as ever your service is impeccable." he replied, winking at her.

The buxom lass made a face and whipped her cloth against his arm in mock offence. "Oh, you Sir are a pirate. Now if I were 10 year's younger I'm sure Bertha could teach ye a thing or two eh ?" she cackled. With that, she turned and waddled off, cursing and dodging the stray hands that nipped and pinched her most impressive backside as she made her way to the kitchen.

DeBoar smiled. She'd eat him alive given half the chance. As he waited for his meal, he settled back and rested his head on the back of the stall.

Thinking of her.

He closed his eyes.

Out of the mist a figure approached.

She was there...again. As she always was lately. Especially after the events of their encounter just Saturday past. He still found it hard to believe what she had done and was, to all intents and purposes, prepared to do in order to earn more money for herself and her family. "Prepared to do." he muttered to himself. The message on the wall reverberated around his head.

"....Shop is looking for an accommodating lass to be a recipient willing to partake in a special show for selected and trusted individuals with an interest in the subject of this here establishment. It must be noted that the successful applicant will be required to undergo chastisement both clothed and unclothed as befitting an agreed contract. The successful applicant will be treated with courtesy, good-manners and principle. A fair sum will be paid as befitting the nature of said employment. Interested parties please contact the owner and proprietor of Ye..."

So, apparently, she was prepared to do it. That was the only answer he could come up with. In his mind's eye, visions of her danced before him, her blue eyes flashing, her fair hair whipping about her like a field of windswept corn as .with a secret glance she bent over raising her skirt's and petticoats to reveal her soft white...

Damn.

The thought of her was starting to drive him to distraction. "Bloody fool. She's but a lass...and a commoner." he muttered under his breath.

Forget her. But as she slowly faded from his dreams, looking up at him over her right shoulder with sparkling eyes so blue and pure as she bent forward, resting her hands on her knee's and thrusting out her...her....

He slowly opened his eyes and looked down at his hands as they rested on the table. Each was clenched tight into a fist. She would be his undoing if he wasn't careful.

Suddenly, out of the blue. With a start he sat forward at the sound of a familiar name.

What ?

*

"......Spank Shop."

DeBoar jerked his head around at the mention of the words which held him sway at that precise moment in time. They had come gruffly, in a chortle from the alcove behind him. Slowly turning until he was glancing over his shoulder, he saw that it was the voice of the Carpenter, Mr Baldock, who was sitting with his back to him supping a mug of ale whilst deep in conversation with a Mr Archibald Brewster of Brewsters & Brewsters Accountants.

DeBoar eased his head back until it was resting on the wooden timbers separating each bench....making it easier to eavesdrop on the conversation. He listened with rapt attention.

"....he sells all sorts of stuff so he does. Heh heh, tis a shop for the head of the household if he be wanting a little knick-knack to still a shrewish wife or calm an errant off-spring so it is." whispered Mr Baldock, leaning forward as if divulging some great secret.

Archibald Brewster reached up to fiddle with his greasy black fop and ease his penny frames onto the bridge of his beak like nose. "I have to say, it sounds frightfully intriguing my dear chap. In truth I'm surprised he's managed to stay open what with the law and all." he snorted, wrinkling his nose as a particularly drunken and smelly bogwaller staggered past him heading for the door.

The Carpenter held up a hand and crooked a finger at him to come closer.

Archibald Brewster looked around before bending close until they were nearly touching noses. "Sir ?"

Baldock licked the froth from his upper lip. "A little birdie tells me that there owner of that particular establishment is going to put on a..." he paused, glancing around to make sure no one was listening,"....special entertainment for certain Gentlemen who regularly visit his 'umble abode." he whispered, his bushy eyebrows arched high on his forehead.

Brewster stuck out his bottom lip. "Entertainment ?" he dribbled.

The carpentre nodded slowly and winked "Hmm hmm. But only fer a select few methinks."

Taking out a not very clean handkerchief to rub his spectacles, Brewster sat back pondering the notion of the word "entertainment". Trying not to appear unduly interested, which of course he was, he took another swallow of ale, smacking his lips as he considered his companion's rather interesting little tid-bit of gossip. "Intriguing Mr Baldock, most intriguing and when, pray tell, is this little get-together taking place and how would a gentleman secure such an invite ?" he asked.

Harry Baldock, PagansWart's resident gossip and knower of all things hereabouts smiled as he divulged his great secret. The sum of which, he had heard from Mr Pipkins the Cobbler who, as a regular visitor to the Ye Old Spanke Shop was a close friend and confidant of its owner, Mr Tiggywinkle. "I hear tell, a secret mind, so keep it under yer hat, that an agreeable lady of unknown stock will be dealt with most vigorously for the entertainment of sed audience termorrow at four." he finished, sitting back and folding his arms with a "well, what do you think 'bout that then...eh.?" grin on his smug face.

Mr Brewster wiggled his tongue between his pudgy lips and reached up to dab his face with his hankerchief, staring at the Carpenter, he scooped up his ale, took a long draught and plonked it down on the stained wooden bench with a resounding thud. "Are you....you know?"

Mr Baldock laughed and nodded. "Aye Sir I'll be there. But be warned though, I fear there are but a few places left for honourable men such as yourself to make their curiosity known Are ye interested ?"

The thought of witnessing such a circus of debauchery washed over him, making a shiver pass through his plump, well fed frame. "My good fellow, I wouldn't miss this fer the world!!"

*

Bertha stood open-mouthed, staring at the empty space as she held onto a steaming plate in one hand and grasping a slopping mug of ale in the other. In between, her vast bust was wobbling with undisguised disbelief and anger.

He was gone.

"Men !!" she cursed.

*

As the winter sun rose over the land, the big red cockerel stood to attention and sang out the sunrise to a still slumbering world. At the sound of the cockcrow, after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, Elizabeth Rose groaned and promptly buried her head under her pillow. With a sigh, she knew one thing above all others.

Her day of reckoning had finally dawned.

*

Patting his stomach and burping a contented burp, Mr Tiggywinkle dabbed his lips with a napkin, got to his feet and went into his kitchen to clean his plate. Whistling as he scrubbed away, he glanced up at the sound of whirring cogs, sprockets and levers. As the old Grandfather clock chimed three bells, he smiled for he had just shut up shop and taken an early tea in order to prepare for his little get-together with some of his "regulars" and one or two others who had, by word of mouth made their interest known to him via trusted sources.

With the winter light fading slowly he made his way downstairs to await the young Miss Rose, for he would need to instruct her and prepare her person before his visitors arrived. Picking up his big red book, he checked his guest list and with quill in hand counted the two rows of chairs he had put out in the middle of his shop floor. Ten paces in front, five apart, he had placed two shoulder high ornate candle stands and in-between had draped a long black curtain over an oak beam to create the illusion of a stage on which he was going to play his role.

His role ?

Ringmaster of course.

Ahhh yes, one the benefits of being the owner of Ye Old Spanke Shop !!

*

"Pish-tush." muttered Lizzie as she fiddled with the length of ribbon for it seemed to have a mind of its very own this day. Stamping her foot in frustration, she looked down at her hands for they were shaking slightly. "Courage Lizzie." she whispered to herself. "Courage."

A sound made her turn.

"Lizzie be not so much in a rush my dear, tis the holidays. No need to hurry now is there ?" smiled her mother who came up behind her and laid her hands on her shoulders. "Here dearest, let me help you with that." she offered, taking the strip of cloth from her daughters hand and reaching up to tie her blonde hair with a neat bow, leaving a single silken pony-tail hanging down her back. "There now Lizzie, ye look as pretty as a picture," she enthused, turning her daughter from the mirror to face her. Blushing, Lizzie looked into her mother's eyes and blinked away tears.

Her mother saw the look. "Lizzie?"

Lizzie stepped forward and hugged her mother to her breast. "Mama, I love you, Gertrude and Beatrice very much remember that." she whispered tearily.

Her mother held her at arms length and looked at her puzzled. "My eldest daughter, you have a kindred heart and loving soul. If it wasn't for your efforts, our lives here wouldn't be much at all. You are selfless and bear your duties well and always with a smile. I promise things will get better and easier as your sisters grow older and I'm sure with a fair wind, you will find someone who loves you just as much as you love him and you will leave home to get married and live happily ever after. Now, be not sad for that is a wish for another day." her mother smiled.

Lizzie dropped her head at the mention of marriage. Reaching forward, her mother lifted her chin with a finger. "All things come to pass Lizzie, one day you will fly my nest and raise a family."

Lizzie shook her head.

Marriage ?

The thought had always been a dark whisper to her. But with her time taken working in the Mill and her attentions needed at home, it was a situation she dismissed out of hand. Besides, although the labourers had stared at her person uncommonly long with obvious interest in their eyes once or twice, she had never seen a suitor come calling.

Her mother saw her frown. "Fret not Lizzie fer none of us know what the Good Lord has in store fer us, your time will come. Trust me pumpkin, your time will come."

Glancing at the clock, Lizzie stepped forward, picked up her bonnet and fastened it on her head then she turned and kissed her mother warmly on the cheek. "The future can take care of itself mother, but fer now I have to go. I shall be back by six." she whispered giving her a hug. Turning to leave, she paused as she was about to open the door. "This year, we shall have a Christmas Tide to remember, I promise." With a determined nod, she closed the door with a click and was gone.

To meet her fate.

*

Mr Tuttle looked up as the brass bell above his door ding-a-linged. "Fiddlesticks!!" he muttered, for he was just about to close his Bookstore early, seeing as he had urgent business elsewhere that particular afternoon. Hopping from his stool, he approached the silent figure standing looking at his leather bound wares. "Good day to you Sir, can I be of some assistance ?"

The cloaked figure turned. "Aye, perhaps. Do you know of a Ms Rose, a Miss Elizabeth Rose.?"

*

Mr Tiggywinkle turned to Lizzie, winked, then took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the curtain. As he disappeared to greet his guests, Lizzie swallowed hard for her mouth was dry and her heart was thudding like rolling thunder in her chest. Looking down, she stared at the long red-dress he had asked her to wear with its full flowing pleats, tight waist and to her blushing surprise, a very low cut neckline plunging rather saucily between the valley of her full breasts. Even with this candour, it was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing she had ever worn. As for the other item of clothing he had asked her to wear !! She blushed as she remembered his bumbling words and matching hue.

"Er, perhaps these as well my d...dear.." he had stuttered, handing her the "garment".

Not a little shocked, she had nodded and scurried off to change in his washroom. When she shyly returned, he was in the kitchen preparing a pot of tea for them both. Over the whistling kettle, she approached quietly behind him.

"Sir ?" she whispered.

With a start, Mr Tiggywinkle turned to find himself gawping with popping eyes at a vision in red and gold.

"D..do I look alright. Do you like it Sir ?" she asked hesitantly as she walked into the room.

Mr Tiggywinkle had blown out his cheeks as his head bobbed up and down, it took a while for him to find his voice and express his most admiring wonder at her obvious charms. "M...my dear Elizabeth, you look absolutely splendid. Your beauty is a sight to behold!!" he had gasped offering her a chair. Sitting drinking tea, as he outlined her part in the play he kept looking at her and shaking his head muttering "wonderful...lovely."

Lizzie smiled at the memory of his befuddled manner, a trait which endeared him to her even more.

"Good fellows..."

At the sound of his voice, she looked up.

"Be still my beating heart." she whispered as she reached up and slipped the mask over her head, making sure her long, blonde pony-tail wasn't tangled and with a shiver of anticipation, eased the leather down to hide her identity.

It was time.

*

Mr Tiggywinkle walked the stage with much bravura like a showman.

He addressed his audience.

"Good fellows. Welcome. Welcome to my little get together at the Ye Old Spank Shop!!" he enthused, spreading his arms wide and enjoying the ripple of applause from his enthusiastic guests. For some reason, something wasn't quite.

No matter.

Twirling his grey moustache, he continued on with his introduction. "I, Percival Tiggywinkle invite ye fellow enthusiasts to bear witness to the chastisement of a young lady who it pains me to say has been a wee bit neglectful in her duties as lady of this house. I'm sure ye'll agree that if the Mistress is failing in her bans, she has to submit to the whims of the Master of the household. Is that not so?" he finished, rubbing his chin in a pondering manner.

A low murmur of agreement was heard from his audience, one or two of whom were shifting uneasily in their seats.

"I am so glad ye all agree good Sir's. Tis good ter see that we be of like-mind in our morals and manners. But I can see ye be mindful of the time, so without further ado let us begin the punishment !!" With that, he turned his back to his guests and faced the dark curtain. "M'lady. Your time has come. Come forth at once to be dealt with!!" he called loudly and with a flourish reached forward and pulled away the cloth.

There was a gasp as the shroud fell away to reveal a silent, slender figure hidden in the overhanging shadows. Mr Tiggywinkle approached with lit taper in hand and ignited each candle-wick. Blowing the wand out, he stepped back and held out his hand. "Come here my dear. Don't be afraid." he whispered.

Pausing slightly, the figure approached slowly until she was illuminated by the yellow glow of the flickering candles either side of her. A low murmur of surprise rumbled amongst the enrapt witnesses, with whispering gasps of "A mask !! How splendid!!" to the fore.

Mr Baldock, seated in the front row began to clap. Mr Brewster, sitting to his left joined in. Mr Tuttle slipped off his penny frames, hurriedly cleaned them with his kerchief lest he miss a precious moment, put them back on again and gazed speechless at the angel on the stage as did the other noted members of the audience.

*

Mr Tiggywinkle sat on a high backed chair holding his hand out to his lady. "Come my dear, you know this is the only and fairest way don't you ?" he asked.

Through the mask, Lizzie glanced at the rapt audience, her heart hammering harder now as the moment of fate arrived and she delved into another world. She turned to him, dropped her head and nodded.

"Good. Now remove the dress." he ordered.

At his words, she felt a warm flush sweep over her from head to toe leaving ever nerve tingling in embarrasment and sinful excitement. As she reached up to undo each red button on her red dress, she felt herself become someone else. Her true spirit floating away leaving....leaving what ? She blinked and looked down to fumble open each clasp. Strangely, with each button undone she found that new spirit within her growing stronger for she saw that she held sway over these men.

They were there to see her.

See her get punished.

Blushing hotly now, with the dress open to her waist, she shrugged it off her shoulders and eased it down to her waist leaving her upper body dressed in a plain white, sleeveless bodice. The motion of her full breasts there for all to see as she reached to her waist, slipping the dress over her wide hips and down her legs to leave her standing with nothing on other than flimsy top, frilly bloomers and black stockings that reached to mid-thigh. With a natural sweep, she reached up and undid her ribbon then shook out her long golden mane which made Mr Boggle the Pawnbroker break into a most ungentlemanly like sweat. Licking her lips, she turned to the audience to let the men stare at her as the dancing shadows flickered across her form. There was a collective gasp of stunned admiration and awe from the watching assembly.

The lady was undoubtedly stunningly beautiful.

Where on earth had Mr Tiggywinkle discovered her ?

Such a treasure !!

Mr Tiggywinkle smiled at the reaction.

Wonderful. Wonderful !! Although he always knew it would be from the second Ms Rose had stepped fatefully through his shop door. "Now my dear." he continued on." I fear your wiles are most unbecoming in a society lady and I regret I must.take you to task over them and teach ye the error of yer ways."

Lizzie bowed her head and nodded like a naughty child. "Yes Sir. I'm sorry Sir fer being such a nuisance." she whispered.

He nodded with satisfaction at her words. "Good. At least ye know yer faults. Now come, I think this time I shall merely warm your seat with a slapping." Taking her small hand, he guided her to his right side and started to ease her over his lap. As she lent over, she realised that her bottom would be facing the audience. She glanced up at him with faint alarm in her wide eyes. Seeing her startled look, he winked and smiled, his warmth reassuring her for with a soft gasp, she bent over him and settled herself down to wait.

For her spanking.

*

"................afraid, on the bare my dear."

Blinking back emerging tears, Lizzie jerked her head up as she felt Mr Tiggywinkle reach down and pat her upturned rump which was now situated at a most alarming height.

"Don't you agree my Lady ?"

With the blood rushing to her head and her heart pounding in her ears, she considered his request for her bottom still throbbed after a good tanning over her bloomers.

"S'ppose so Sir." she whispered.

Mr Tiggywinkle turned to his guests and with raised eyebrows and a grin, he rolled up the sleeve's of his white shirt. "Thats the spirit dearest, now let me see if I can undo these fiddly things." He reached down and began opening the canopy of her bloomers which hugged her most impressively wide and spread bottom very nicely indeed. As each button was slipped through its slot, the members present eased forward in their chairs to get a better view of the beautys emerging femininity.With the last lock open, Mr Tiggywinkle reached inside the white garment and paused.

He looked at his male companions.

"Behold. My lady's backside."

*

Lizzie grunted as another resounding slap landed on her most wobblingly sore cheeks. As the pain of her thrashing seeped into her soul she realised it was no use, she had tried to keep a stoic demeanour about her person and bear up well without fuss or murmur. But as his blows peppered ever inch of her fleshy bottom, the heat had risen unbearably and was now a most uncomfortable thing to endure. Her gasps of distress and pain slipped easily now from between her clenched lips. "Ahhhh Sir please, not soooooo hard. It hurts so !!" she keened as her punishment continued with mounting sting and soreness.

Mr Tiggywinkle mopped his brow with his handkerchief. "Fret not my Lady, just a few more to impress your wandering ways on you. Bear up now for blubbering won't cut your sentence!!"

Slap.

Lizzie jerked her head up at the fierceness of the blow.

"Oooowwww, it stings sooooooo.!!" she whined.

He reached down and tugged the bloomers open wider to gain more access to her charms, licking his lips at the vision before him squirming over his lap for Ms Rose had a most impressively big bottom, which at that moment was turning a very dark shade of red indeed.

Her behind was parted by a most prominent crevasse from where, after each spank, certain feminine secrets winked in alarm as her alabaster flesh bore down on the sting. Lizzie blushed, knowing that as each of Mr Tiggywinkles spanks landed, her stockinged legs kicked wildly as if they had a mind of their own thus revealing her most intimate places to the silent group.

"I, I am sooo sorry Sir pleeease I won't be n...naughty anymore !!" she shrieked as she grabbed his knee.

Her spanking was nearly over but not quite. "Very well my dear, one more to remind you what will happen if you err again." he sighed.

She bobbed her head with relief. "Th..thank you Sir I promise...I promise."

Mr Tiggywinkle raised his right hand and paused. "Ready my girl ?" he asked softly, laying his left hand on her quaking shoulders.

Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut tight, bit her lip and clasped her hands in front of her for she knew that this last spank would be the hardest delivered by far. Steeling herself, she nodded her head once.

"Good lass...."

So, with a resounding crack and a pained yelp that echoed around the room, Elizabeth Rose earned her first shilling.

*

A little while later, in her own bedroom, Lizzie stood shaking as she undressed, wincing as she pulled her bloomers over her sore rump. "Psfttttt..ow...ow." she mumbled to herself as she untied the laces of her bodice. She had ran all the way home as if the fires of Hades itself were licking at her heels, slipping and sliding her way through the market throng, thankfully there had been no one home and she had rushed up the stairs to her and her sisters bedroom to recover her poise. Now staring at herself in the mirror, she frowned as she thought of the men that had witnessed her get her spanking.

Even in the candle-light, she had recognised most of the ensemble if not by name then by reputation. Persons of means no doubt, acquaintances of Mr Tiggywinkle. Mr Baldock the Carpenter, Mr Pipkins the Cobbler, Mr Boggle the Pawnbroker.

To her surprise, her eyes had settled on old Mr Tuttle. Dear Mr Tuttle of Tuttles Bookshop. Why she even knew him well enough to be on first name terms seeing as she spent many an hour daydreaming as she perused the tomes that were stacked neatly in his bookcases. What a surprise to find so kind a gentleman such as he witnessing her thrashing!!

Undoing her ribbon, she shook her hair out and watched it fall like a silken web around her shoulders as she picked up her ivory brush and began teasing out the tats in her long hair. Sitting gingerly on the corner of her bed, she slowly breathed out, a long sigh of relief now that her ordeal was over, for now she could look forward to buying one or two presents with the two shillings her throbbing backside had earned.

"One as a gift." she whispered to her reflection. "One sorely merited!!" she finished with a pout that made her smile ruefully. Clasping the coins to her chest, she stared at her reflection and nodded with relief for one thing stood out more important above all others, her secret and who she was safe.

"Thank goodness for the mask." she whispered to herself.

*

As the girl ran past and disappeared into the crowd, a dark figure emerged from the lengthening shadows of Woodcutters Lane. It watched silent as the fleeing lass become one with the masses. Stepping into a shimmering pool of yellow lamp-light, the cloaked figure nodded slowly as the night cast its blanket over the land.

Any lingering doubt was now gone.

**

Part 2.

Twas Micklemass Eve and the late-evening bells ding donged merrily as the residents of PagansWart left the Fourteenth century church after attendin' Father Brambles service of thanksgiving fer the miracle of tomorrow. Still humming yuletide carols and feeling the spirit of the season in their very marrow, the cheery crowd made its way into the village to no doubt do a bit of last minute shopping and making merry.

Trudging through the snow with the sun setting quickly in a darkening sky, the Rose family walked arm in arm, all except that is fer its youngest member Beatrice who was skipping along and singing "Oh Come all Ye Faithful." at the top of her lungs causing many a nudge amongst well-wishers and friends who walked the way with them. Wrapped up in a red coat and shawl with a cosy woolly hat snugly fitted around her ears to keep out the chill she turned to her kin. "Mama, lets not go home yet pleeeeeeease. I want ter see the carollers in the square and visit the toy shop, an' the Butcher's ter see his prize turkey, the one's thats as big as me !!" she pleaded before ducking a snowball thrown by Gertrude who was sticking out her tongue in a most unladylike fashion

Her mother just sighed and smiled. "Yes dear."

Beatrice clapped her mittened hands in glee and bent double as she tried to fashion a ball of snow, looking between her legs as she called out to her eldest sister. "Ye and all Lizzie and stop being such a grinch. Ye've had a face like a burnt pudding fer the past few days. Cheer up tis Christmas!!" she laughed standing straight and scampered away down the lane afor, with a shriek she slipped and with knickerbockers on full show, fell plumb bob on her rump with an "Owchh!!". Mrs Rose groaned and hugged her other daughter's to her as they walked at her side.

"Tsk. I fear fer the man who catches her fer she'll drive him round t'bend !!" she laughed.

Gertrude, dressed in her best frock and black coat giggled and nodded. "True Mother, she's full of jumping beans that one. Wherever did she spring from ?!!" she smiled as she looked across at her eldest sister who was staring unaware's across the snow covered hills.

"Lizzie ?"

The wind whisked between them as if carrying her call away.

"Elizabeth !!" she called louder.

Startled out of her musings and ponderings, Lizzie blinked and blushed. "Oh, what? Gertrude forgive me I was miles away." she apologised, her brow furrowing as she tried to concentrate the mind.

Gertrude shook her head. "Beatrice speaks the truth mama, Lizzie has been most funny these past days. Is everything alright sister ?" she asked with concern as her mother also stared at her eldest with a questioning gaze.

"Wrong ? No, nooooo its just, well, things on my mind. Fiddlestick things of no import or worry, pay me no attention fer I will be right as rain especially after such a wonderful service by Father Bramble." she smiled reassuringly as she hugged her mother tighter to her.

Her mother lent over and kissed her gently on her forehead. "Be of good cheer my Lizzie and ferget the wider world and its ills fer tomorrow we shall make a day of it for tis a day of joy and celebration fer all." she whispered.

"Aye." grinned Gertrude" Tis Christmas !"

*

"....on the feast of Stephen as the snow lay all about, deep and crisp and even."

Standing beneath the great Tree, decked with all its finery and festooned with tied wishes from children near and far, the carollers sang heartily to the festive crowds as they packed the stores that surrounded PagansWart market square. Beatrice skipped from each brightly lit window as she sucked on a candy that looked like a snowman, her eyes round and wide as she gazed with child-like wonder at things she wished Father Christmas would bring down her chimney. "Look mama, look at that Dolly, the one with stripy stockings and knickers. Isn't she sooo pretty ?!" she sighed as she rummaged in her sweetie bag and pulled out an elf.

Mrs Rose patted her on the head. "Yes dear, she's very pretty." she smiled, sighing sadly inside at the sound of her youngest innocent joy for something she knew she could never have. Lizzie, standing aways back watched her little sister rub her rosy red nose against the glass and kick her heels in frustrated longing.

She smiled a slow smile.

*

Lizzie felt her heart beating faster as her family made its way along the row of shops...past the greengrocers until they found themselves before the window of the Cobblers, peeking in she saw.....oh!! She felt herself blush warmly for there stood Mr Pipkin and right next to him was Mr Boggle the Pawnbroker deep in whispered conversation as he awaited fer his shoe to be stitched. With a guilty start, she stepped back as Mr Boggle glanced in her direction, her breath catching in her throat.

"Does he ?" she quaked inside, gasping with relief as she watched him turn, paying her no heed as if she were no more than a passing stranger thank goodness!! "I wonder." she muttered to herself, with a smile she turned to Gertrude who was wrestling with her younger sister trying to pinch a jellytot from her bag.

"Pish tush you two, leave yer sister alone Gertie lest she throws a fit and bubbles.!!" she frowned as they stopped and looked at her. Beatrice stuck out her bottom lip and pouted.

"I do not bubble Lizzie, tell 'er te leeeeeeeeave me candy alone!!"

Lizzie eased them apart and shook them.

"Where's mama.?" she asked.

Gertrude nodded down the street. "She be in the grocers buying some nuts and berries fer the pudding."

Lizzie nodded. "Alright, now go give her a helping hand fer I've got one or two things to do, now go on shoosh!!" she laughed, turning them and giving each a pat on their rumps. Watching as they scampered away, she smiled ruefully and reached around to quickly rub her own backside through her clothing.

"Fer you Mr Tiggywinkle." she giggled to herself. Taking a deep breath she opened the door to the Cobblers and went in.

*

Tapping away at an upturned boot, Ernest Pipkin looked at his dear friend, Benjamin Boggle the Pawnbroker and agreed most enthusiastically at his pertinent point. "Smashing she were, a real beauty with a bustle that thawed the coldest heart indeed Sir. I have to confess that Mr Tiggywinkle did enliven the season by pullin' this Christmas cracker from his sack!!" he laughed, trying no ter swallow the pins peeping out from his pursed lips.

Mr Boggle lifted his black cane and tapped its base on the counter. "Verily Mr Pipkin, such finery on the gel...though he be a sly devil fer making his treat wear a mask..s'ppose it wise though in the circumstances, but dash it Sir wot a mystery, fer I find myself out and about with the memsab and blow me, every filly I pass I cannot help but think to meself. "I wonder ?" " he sighed, pondering Mr Tiggywinkle's secret damsel in distress.

The Cobbler rested his hammer on the anvil. "Aye, agreed, though the word is that those also present are of the same musing. Who is she, where is she from ?" he wondered aloud. "Not only that, I hear a rumour that she be of gppd breeding stock, p'hraps even a society gel. Wot say ye ter that Sir ?" he finished, staring at Mr Boggle who, as he rubbed the underside of his whiskery chin with the pommel of his cane looked suitably perplexed and befuddled.

"Gadzooks Sir !! Ye mean she did it cos she wanted to ? But maybe she is merely one of the floozies that loiter by the Wool sheds. The one's that spread their skirts fer a farthing, er not that I er....have ever partaken of their services a'course yer understand !!" he bumbled.

Mr Pipkin smirked fer he knew of Ms Hattie and her caravan of disrepute who dwelt in the gypsy camp on the other side of the village With a sigh, he shrugged his shoulders. "Plausible Mr Boggle plausible, but yer deduction has one flaw. The lass looks like no hag to my eye's that's fer sure. She be of good breeding stock if ye ask me and if she be well ter do then she be not needing funds either. So what other explanation is there ? Except she be into this rosy cheeks lark." he finished sitting back and folding his arms over his smelly bib.

"Mr Pipkin, I concede your words make sense. I agree that the beauty of the lass indicates she be a female of means." the Pawnbroker considered with a nod. "Oh and another thing, did ye notice who else was in attendance at the er entertainment.?" he asked the Cobbler.

Mr Pipkin shook his head. "In truth, I never noticed fer I was sat in the front row and such was the show that the place could of been aflame fer all I be aware.!!" he grinned.

Mr Boggle nodded his point. "Aye Sir, that be so but wait fer this be juicy gossip, ye see just as I was about to take my seat I noticed a figure enter quietly and stand back in the shadows. Now, I was a might surprised at this because Mr Tiggywinkle told me only eight persons would be present but counting carefully there were now nine."

Mr Pipkin rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Eight is what I was told an all Sir, but I never noticed this Gentleman in the wings. Did ye get a good look at 'im?"

The other man shook his head. "Alas not for he kept himself well hidden. Probably wanted his identity kept secret. Can't says I blame him what with that gossip Mr Baldock around and he left once the deed was done, but I did notice one thing about this person." he noted.

"Oh ?" asked the Cobbler.

Ding-ding.

At the sound of the door bell, Mr Boggle paused in mid-flow as a hesitant figure entered the shop. The figure of a young girl.

*

It had worked. He was right, they hadn't recognised her, even when she stood close and looked them in the eye as she bid each of them good day fer they seemed more interested in discussing something of import. Mr Pipkin had silenced his visitor who had stepped back to let her enter. He gave her a nod and lifted his tall topper in greeting as she walked around and looked at the boots, shoe's and leather goods on the shelves.

Feigning disinterest, she had eavesdropped as they continued their hushed conversation, catching the last morsel of their subject.

"....think he were wearing a uniform under his coat but the thing I noticed most Sir, was the glint of a pin at his breast !!" he finished, leaning forward whispering.

"A pin Sir ?" replied the Cobbler. "Wot sort of pin ?"

Before answering, Mr Boggle looked around and saw that the young lady seemed most interested in a particular item and was examining it closely. He turned back to his friend of many years. "Most unusual it was Mr Pipkin, fer I swear it was the image of a hawk!!"

*

As she made her way to her favourite shop, she pondered their conversation for they were surely talking about what had happened. She frowned for she didn't recall seeing anyone standing in the shadows, e'en though the mask had restricted her vision a little. Still it was all in the past now, she laughed to herself as she recalled the look on their faces when she had picked up a small leather bag with a loose strap intending to buy it as a special present fer her mother. Approaching the counter, she had smiled sweetly at Mr Pipkin who was looking at her over the rim of his spectacles with some slight curiosity in his smile. Biting her lip, she examined the bag as the Cobbler sniffed a sale.

"It be good quality Miss, strong and sturdy." he offered.

She nodded as she examined its insides, slowly looping the strap in her hand until a length was hanging double and loose from her grasp. "Aye Sir, I'm sure it is. My, this strap is long. Is it supple?" she asked looking up innocently.

"Supple ?" asked Mr Pipkin confused.

She nodded. "Aye Sir, supple. A lady likes a strap which is strong and supple." she explained, her eyes twinkling in amusement as she stared at the two red-faced gentlemen who watched bemused as she pulled at the leather, grasping it and tapping the loop against her other hand. Mr Pipkin plopped his bum down on his stool and blustered open mouthed at her.

"Er, well blimey Miss ye don't say. Ain't that a bit of gossip Mr Boggle ?" lisped the Cobbler as he licked his upper lip.

Mr Boggle looked as if he wanted ter be someplace else and not facing this young lady who had reminded him of .the er...little get-together he and Mr Pipkin attended late yesterday evening. He spread his arms wide and blew out his cheeks. "Verily Madam. " he stuttered. "Gadzooks Mr Pipkin there be more to these here baggins than meets the eye I shall have to quiz Mable more closely on the matter in future." he finished as he fiddled with the knob on the top of his black cane watching as this young girl blew theatrically on her hand.

"Hmm, ye were right Sir. Tis fine leather. Tis true also that a lady needs a good strapping..." She slapped the length of leather against her palm - twice."....on her bag." She looked up to find the two of them staring red faced at her and open mouthed. Mr Boggle looked like he was going to burst and as fer the poor Cobbler. Twas just as well he was sitting on his stool.

Laughing at the memory, she pulled her coat tighter around her as she continued on, her relief that knowing her identity was safe was mighty indeed. Light of heart, she reached into her pocket, grasping her purse with a sense of elation and expectation for she knew the moment she had been waiting for, for so long was nigh at hand.

With a spring in her step, she made her way to Mr Tuttle's Bookstore.

*

Across the other side of the square, sat astride his horse, Alain DeBoar sat silently watched the young girl and her family make their way along the street doing their last minute Christmas shopping with the younger Rose daughter's skipping in front and peeking into each shop window and pointing out treats to their mother who walked arm in arm with her eldest, Elizabeth. He eased forward as he watched the happy group part leaving the figure of his attention standing alone looking in the Cobblers window. As she disappeared inside, he nudged his mount forward into a slow gait and made his way through the crowds. Nodding at well-wishers, he drew to a halt beneath a snow covered oak and waited.

In the yellow glow of shop lamp-light, he could see her in conversation with the Cobbler and was that Mr Boggle standing fidgeting with his cane next to her?

It was.

He frowned. What was she up to?

Why was she putting herself into such a situation which could prove the undoing of her good name ? His gaze got narrower and narrower as he contemplated her actions. She should be avoiding those men like the plague. Especially those men.

Unless..

Unless she's confronting them on purpose. "Lass.....foolish lass." he muttered, his breath swirling round him like a white mist. Taping the flanks of his horse, he moved forward slowly and watched as she left the Cobblers to make her way down the street. With a brooding stare, he watched her hunch forward laughing into her mittens and skip on as if overcome with relief. "Foolish lass." he smiled grimly. Easing himself between the throng of well-wishers, he turned towards her and followed her at an even pace watching her as she walked before him unaware of his presence until she came to the bookstore where she stopped suddenly with a jolt as if in shock.

Pulling to a halt, he lent forward and waited.

Her distress was painfully visible to see as she raised her hands slowly and laid them on the window as if to steady herself against a bitter blow of disappointment. DeBoar, in his heart could feel her pain as she dropped her hands lifelessly to her sides and pressed her head against the glass in resigned defeat.

*

It was gone.

Lizzie felt her heart burst.

It was gone.

"For nothing...all for nothing." she gasped, laying her hands on the window as her tears started to flow over her cold cheeks. Resting her head forward, her hands dropped lifelessly and numb. "Whyyy ?" she cried aloud to the night. As she gave voice to her disappointment, she heard the soft sound of crunching snow approaching.

She stepped back quickly wondering who it was. Even in her moment of heartbreak, she realised something...someone...was near. Slowly turning her tear stained face to her left, her watery gaze blinked as she saw the silhouette of a figure on a horse watching her silently. Shaking, she stepped back further and faced the shadow as she reached up to wipe away her tears.

"Sir ?" she whispered.

With a click of heels, the horse walked towards her.

Swaying on her feet, she frowned as she bent forward slightly trying to get a better look at the rider who was watching her torment. The mounted figure stopped a few paces in front of her. With wide eyes, she saw it slip from the saddle and with rein in hand walk towards her until she saw.....

Oh.

Thank the Lord.

"Oh Sir." she sniffed with relief. "I thought ye be a stranger following me, tis a relief ter see its only y..." But even as she spoke, her voice died in her throat as a shaft of light from an overhead lamp fell across his coat where something glimmered and gleamed.

Her hand came up to her mouth in shock.

It was a pin.

A silver pin.

In the image of a hawk.

*

DeBoar watched the girl's face change from relief, to a frown, then finally to a mask of horror as she looked up at him. For a second their eye's met.

Lizzie stumbled back a step. He knows. With a cry of alarm, she turned and fled with her skirts flapping in the wind. As she disappeared into the night, he stood motionless for a moment before walking to the window of the bookstore. He stopped and looked down for he saw something shining in the snow. Bending down on his haunches, he picked it up and studied it.

A shilling.

Alain DeBoar stared at it and slowly gripped it in a fist. "Never again." he whispered.

*

As the dawn broke with a chorus of bird-song, children everywhere were rising early with anticipation in their hearts fer they wondered if St Nick had paid them a visit over night and left them gift's and present's under the tree or in an stocking hung from the fireplace.

Unable to pretend she was asleep a moment longer, twelve year old Beatrice Rose quietly eased back her bedcovers with concentrated silent ness so as not to wake her sleeping sisters. With her dainty tongue stuck between her teeth, she slipped on her slippers and crept towards the door, wincing at every creak and groan of the floorboards. Reaching up to click the bedroom door open, she turned and looked to make sure they were still asleep lying in single beds underneath the frosted window and away in dreamland...hmmm, Beatrice frowned fer she could see Gertrude was hidden 'neath a mound of blankets snoring gently as usual. But where was Lizzie? Her eyes widened for she could see her bed was empty, but not only that it looked like it hadn't been slept in at all!! Even at such an innocent and tender age, Beatrice knew something was wrong with her eldest sister for when she, Gertrude and her mother had returned home after looking high and low for her they had found Lizzie sitting by the fire staring into its golden glow.

Their mother had rushed to her side and grasped her hands. "Lizzie dearest, wh..where have ye been, we've been sick with worry." she cried softly, wrapping an arm around her eldest daughters shoulders and hugging her to her breast as Gertrude joined her with a sigh of relief that her sister was safe. Beatrice unsure of what to say or do, stood back and watched as Lizzie quickly reached up and wiped away a tear before she turned and answered.

"Sshhh shhh, do not worry mother fer no harm has come tor me." she sighed. "Twas only that I felt a little faint and had need to be at home. I'm sorry mama, Gertrude, Beatrice fer not minding my manner's and telling you afor I left." she smiled apologetically reaching up to pat her mothers arm for comfort.

But as Lizzie had clasped her mother and Gertrude to her, Beatrice had seen the brief flash of anxiety in her sister's eye's. A mixture of fear and pain.

*

Lizzie looked up at the soft thump thump of footsteps coming down the stairs and reached forward to stoke the kitchen fire with the poker. She smiled as she saw her youngest sister yawning and peeking through the open door. "Merry Christmas Beatrice." she grinned warmly as the young girl hesitantly entered the kitchen and looked around wide-eyed as if she expected to see a tall gentleman with a white beard and a huge sack tut tutting at seeing her up and about so early a' the mornin'.

"Lizzie. Wh, why are ye up so early ? Has he...has he been ?" she whispered worriedly as Lizzie got to her feet, still dressed in her nightgown and took her small hand. Shaking her head, Lizzie bent down and put a finger to her lips.

"Sssssh Bee, I haven't so much as had an ounce of courage to go and see yet fer I thought I'd need ye beside me to stop me being afraid just in case the hobgoblins be about to cause trouble!!" she said quietly with a theatrical shiver. Beatrice, still clutching her old and tattered teddy nodded with excitement and a little fear.

"Eeeeh tis so Lizzie, I hear tell that after St Nick has left by the chimney pixies, sprites and wisps are about looking fer to play tricks on little people like me and cause mischief by hiding their presents!!" she gasped as she bit the right ear of her teddy to still her chattering teeth.

Lizzie nodded with a solemn face. "Then we shall go and face them together Bee shan't we. Perhaps then we can look under the tree without being afraid, now let us be ever so quiet and go and see what St Nick has left fer us from his sack." Reaching up to grab her elder sister's hand, Beatrice chewed harder as they went into the still dark sitting-room to see what this day would bring.

*

"I shall call her Sally, wot do ye think Gertie? Is Sally a fitting name fer so fine a dolly and didn't I tell ye that St Nick's little helper's would find my note I posted up the chimney ?" asked Beatrice as she drew a small comb through the doll's curly locks before tying it up with a red ribbon. Gertrude looked up from her new paint box and thought on the question.

"Twas a lovely surprise to find her under the tree and Sally is a lovely name fer her Bee." smiled her sister as she glanced up from her doodling and winked at her with affection as the whole Rose family rested after the trials of preparing and eating Christmas dinner.

Mrs Rose turned to Lizzie as they sat before a roaring fire with the logs and coal crackling and snapping merrily in the grate. She smiled for today had been such a good day with one or two surprises found under their Christmas tree such as the doll for Beatrice, the paint box for Gertrude and a lovely leather bag for herself. All thanks to her eldest daughter. But such presents, even gratefully received made her pause and ponder fer where had the money come from ? "Tis been a wonderful Christmas morning Lizzie fer I've never seen yer sister's happier and content with their gifts and I with mine. Ye must of worked extra hard fer the mean's to buy such things" she whispered, watching as Gertrude sat before the tree festooned with baubles, paper tinsel, holly and surrounded by cards from friends and relatives to sketch it with one of her crayons.

Lizzie blushed slightly and nodded. "Mama, twas the least I could do. Tis true fer the mill has been so busy these past few week's that they asked us to work extra hours to cope with the demand. So I jumped at the chance to earn a few more coppers." she replied feeling herself flush at the small fib.

Indeed it had been a wonderful time, for she always loved this day as all the hardship and grind borne over the year was swept away by seeing the joy in the faces of her family at the giving and receiving of presents around the hearth. In reality it was of no import where she had earned the extra few pennies fer it had been a means to an end and she knew the opportunity was still there to earn more..if she was prepared to go through with Mr Tiggywinkles little escapade again.

But even as the thought crossed her mind, a vision of a silver hawk danced before her which caused her heart to flutter with fright and a little fear at the thought that someone knew who she was and what she had done.

There was also the small fact that it was him.

Staring into the flames, she bit her lip as she wondered what he would do with this knowledge fer the thought scared her silly as the undoubted shame brought upon her head and her family would be great indeed and she would loose her employ at the mill fer sure. Such had been her shock at seeing the silver pin on his breast, she had sat all night in the chair worrying herself sick with her imagining nightmares of a thumping rat-a-tat-tat on the door as they came fer her to lock her up and brand her a loose woman with low morals and the decorum of a strumpet. Maybe he was waiting till after Micklemass passed ?

Maybe he would forget all about it.

No.

No he wouldn't, fer she had seen the look in his eyes as he had walked up to her in the snow with his horse by his side. He knew. He knew what she had done and she knew that he had watched it being done to her. For some reason, the idea that he had been there watching her getting spanked both filled her with shame but also sent a shiver down her spine that shook and warmed her to the core of her being.

*

As the festive afternoon wore on, parlour games were played, carols sang and the early evening shadows crept over the land kissing the earth with crystal lips as th