Disclaimer: I don't own POTC

Chapter 48: Whipping

It was very painful, but Camille finished up her duties before sneaking a hot bath that night. She didn't care how many beatings would come of using hot water for herself, she basked in the tub and let her hair down.

She jerked up as the door opened. She wasn't ready to be discovered just yet. But it was only the boy. His eyes widened and his stumbled over his words, trying to apologize.

"Oh, my God. I-I'm sorry, I meant no…" he stuttered, beginning to back out.

But she laughed. "Oh Gabriel, it's only you. Don't be shy, I won't bite."

He hesitantly slipped back in, shutting the door. But he kept averting his eyes from her direction.

"Oh, come now, it's not like you've never seen a woman naked. We're all the same, I can assure you," she said, washing her legs.

Gabriel's face turned an interesting shade of red as she realized that he was as innocent as them come. "You're joking," she said, standing up. "Well, what do you think?"

"Miss Camille, that's really not necessary," he said, hiding his eyes.

She laughed, drying herself off and putting on a simple robe. "I'm a pirate, love. I have no shame now. But you must ache terribly from this afternoon. Get in, it'll relax you."

He looked at her hesitantly, and she could see that he was a proper gentleman. "Come on, now. It's still nice and hot for you. Goodnight, Master Gabriel," she said, letting herself out. She sighed, leaning against the door. Handsome.

Over the next few days, she obeyed every order given to her. Things went very smoothly, because she occupied herself with the cleaning so that she would never have to speak to Maximilian or tend to Gretchen's constant needs.

But she did get the pleasure of meeting little Priscilla. Camille barely saw the small girl, because she was always with her tutor or at a friend's house. She was a lovely little child, no older than Sheila was. Her hair was lighter than Gretchen's, and that day Camille was to curl it in those beautiful curls that women always wore.

She was very good to Priscilla, tending to her every whim because she was terrified of being beaten again. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that the only reason people actually worked in this house was the fear of being beaten. And she was all about putting a stop to that. A man who beat women should never be allowed to keep his dignity or show his face in public.

"Ouch! You're pulling at my hair!" Priscilla screamed. At the same time Camille was doing her hair, she was having her dress made for her. So several servants were buzzing around her, having hairpins and pincushions thrown at them.

"It's almost time for supper, go faster!" Priscilla demanded, kicking at a maid who was pinning up her dress.

"Well the more you keep wiggling, the longer it is going to take," Camille said in a low voice.

All the servants stopped and looked at her. Apparently, it was a high crime to speak back to a Thatcher in this household. Priscilla looked up at Camille, her blue eyes flaring. "What did you say to me?"

"I said stop squirming, you little brat!" Camille said, raising her voice.

Priscilla took a clump of Camille's hair and yanked on it. Camille screamed angrily, and in turn took some of the girl's hair and pulled on it. She wailed. "Ah! You can't tell me what to do, you're not my mother!" she cried, tears burning her eyes.

Camille loosened her grip, but still held the hair. "You're absolutely right, I am not your mother. So I see no problem with breaking your little legs, you selfish brat," she said through her teeth.

It worked. She saw Priscilla's eyes glaze over in fear. Camille straightened up. "Now, hold still or one of us will stick a pin in you," she said. The servants went back to their tailoring, and the girl stood still the last five minutes.

Camille went downstairs with the others, getting the food and bringing it out on several silver platters. Camille was feeling very confident, and she smiled at little Priscilla as she placed her meal in front of her. "Here you are, darling," she said sweetly. Maximilian watched her carefully, looking to reprimand her for anything she did wrong. Gabriel was polite as always, but Gretchen…

Of course, there was no pleasing "Her Majesty". "Potatoes!" she screeched. "I hate potatoes! Bring me the next course," she said, throwing her entire plate of food against the wall.

Calmly, Camille stepped right over the pile of food. "Now Gretchen, Susannah worked very hard to make that meal and I doubt she's going to the stove again just for your sake. So you'd better pick that up and eat what you've got," she said smartly, knowing this would get her a whipping.

Right on cue, Maximilian stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as Gretchen put her head in her hands and began weeping. Priscilla sat very still, not saying a word. And Gabriel was warily getting up, keeping his eyes on his father.

"That does it. Out back, Camille!" Maximilian said in his earsplitting voice.

She obeyed, not batting an eyelash. Of course, the entire household had heard this, and they were now either hanging out of windows or pushing their way outside to see what the new girl had done this time.

Maximilian had a whip in one hand, and Camille stood outside in the back of the house as the Thatcher children looked on. Priscilla held onto Gretchen's dress, and Gabriel just stood there. That whip would kill the girl.

But Camille didn't seem afraid. Either she wasn't, or she was able to act well. She looked at Maximilian with her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Is this what we get when we don't give in to your daughters' petty needs?" she asked.

Maximilian cracked the whip once in the air, causing everyone except Camille to jump. She began approaching him, and he flicked his wrist in her direction as some covered their eyes and others looked on, prepared for the woman's shrill cry of terror. But it never came.

All three of the Thatcher children had covered their eyes, and when they dared to peek they saw their father with a shocked look on his face. Camille was at one end of the whip. It was wrapped tightly around her arm, and she was pulling on the end looking as cool as ever.

Gretchen cried out in surprise. "Impossible!"

Camille paid them no attention, and pulled the sniveling Maximilian closer to her. Then she slapped him. It echoed in the gigantic property that surrounded them. "You had better start respecting women a bit more. How do you think you were brought into this world in the first place?" she asked him quietly.

He stuttered over syllables, not knowing how to react to her. She snatched the whip out of his hands and flung it on the ground. She passed him, and he finally turned around, pointing at her. "You!" he managed to say. "You…"

She turned around slowly. "Haven't I gotten through to you yet?" she asked impatiently. "I've got to get some sleep before your lovely daughters need the dirt picked from underneath their fingernails tomorrow."

Maximilian held his tongue and decided to let her walk away. Camille went inside, with everyone looking after her. She made her way up to her quarters and undressed.