My Lord and Master

by Whitlock, Victoria

  “A girl of my station would have little cause to be wild,” she stammered, her cheeks burning with shame. “I was five when I was first put to work, keeping house alongside my mother. I was not brought up to wildness.”

  “I see,” Lord Sutherland said, nodding more to himself than to Angelica. “Well, Angelica, I am pleased to hear that your parents have instilled in you the virtues of hard work. But I wonder whether you might not benefit by learning something of wildness, too. Now, I suggest you get some rest. It’s a long journey ahead of us.”

  And with that, he leant back in his seat, pulling his hat down over his eyes.

  “Yes, My Lordship, thank you, My Lordship,” Angelica replied quietly.

  She did not understand what he meant by learning of wildness, but he had made it clear that the conversation was now at an end, and it was not her place to ask any further questions.

  But although she tried, Angelica was unable to fall to sleep as her master suggested. The air felt charged now with anticipation, and as the carriage rolled steadily on down the lane Angelica felt alive and awake, puzzling over the curious things this man had said to her, and wondering just what would happen to her when they finally arrived at their destination.

  Where am I?

  Angelica awoke with a jolt, for a moment unable to process her surroundings. Wherever she was, she was moving. She could feel her body being gently rocked to and fro, and her head resting upon ...

  With a start she pulled her herself away from her resting place, there upon Lord Sutherland’s shoulder, hoping that he hadn’t noticed. She didn’t know much about what duties might be required of her as his maid, but she was certain that using him as a pillow would be deemed unacceptable.

  Luckily, Lord Sutherland seemed still to be slumbering, and as Angelica remembered where she was – of course, she was still here in this carriage, as it made its way towards her new home – she finally gave into the temptation that had been plaguing her for most of the journey: to take a peek from the window.

  She reached out and nervously pulled back the curtain, just a fraction, then leant forward in her seat, putting her eye to the small crack in the cloth she had made.

  She gasped. She couldn’t help herself. Because she found she was looking out onto the most sumptuous, green gardens she had ever laid eyes upon.

  Was this what the world was like, outside of her tiny village?

  They passed acre after acre of beautifully sculpted lawns and rose-bushes, trellises and pathways.

  Just ahead of them on the path was a huge, imposing mansion house.

  Of course, Angelica realised, this was not the world outside of her village. This was Lord Sutherland’s world. It had to be.

  And just then, as if to prove this point, the carriage drew to a halt and Angelica heard the driver disembarking from his horse and heading around to open the door to their chamber, the bright light flooding into the carriage as he did so. The rays of sunlight illuminated Lord Sutherland’s slumbering form, and Angelica found she was too scared to look at him in the light.

  “My Lordship, we’ve arrived,” the driver said nervously, obviously just as scared of incurring Lord Sutherland’s wrath as Angelica felt herself to be. Clearly she was not the only person who felt intimidated and wary of this brooding man.

  Quick as a flash, Lord Sutherland awoke, snatching his hat from his face and putting it back upon his head in one smooth motion, his dark eyes flicking first from the driver then to Angelica.

  “Take her to the maids, they’ll know what to do with her,” he said coldly, addressing the driver.

  “Very well, My Lordship,” the driver said, turning his beady, piggy little eyes from Lord Sutherland to Angelica. Then, in a much less reverent tone, he said to her, “Well, you heard, come with me.”

  He reached out his chubby little hand to help Angelica out of the carriage. She did as she was told, letting the driver help her out, not daring to look back to Lord Sutherland, wondering again just what he had in store for her.

  And as the driver led her towards the huge house – standing out from its dazzling green surroundings, so imposing and dark, its brickwork a brooding grey, so similar to the way Lord Sutherland himself stood out from a crowd – Angelica couldn’t help but let her mind drift back to the way he’d talked about her like that to the driver, as if she was simply an object: Take her to the maids ...

  How much for the girl ...

  She wondered what her new living quarters were to be like. She hoped they would be warmer than her draughty bedroom at home. But Lord Sutherland had said ‘maids’. That suggested she was going to be living with the other servants, other women. She felt a wave of trepidation flow through her, for often other girls did not seem to like her very much.

  The driver led her around the side of the house, to what was clearly the servant’s quarters and kitchen at the rear: to a simply furnished black door on which he knocked boldly, three times.

  A pause and then the door swung open, to reveal a girl older than Angelica, in her mid twenties, she guessed? Her plump frame was clothed in a simple black and white maid’s uniform, her dark hair pulled tight to her head, her big brown eyes flicking first to Angelica, then to the driver, then back to Angelica again.

  And Angelica was sure she could pick up something strange cross the woman’s face – was it pity, perhaps?

  “Not another one?” she said to the driver.

  “Aye,” the driver said quietly.

  “Very well,” she said, nodding to herself. Then, addressing Angelica, “Well, my poor love, you’d best come with me ...”

  And with that she led Angelica through a large kitchen, past a pantry and a scullery, and down a series of winding corridors. These were obviously the back stairs – the passageways used for servants to keep them hidden from view and away from the finery of the house.

  It seemed like a rabbit warren to Angelica. She had no idea where they were within the house, and it suddenly occurred to Angelica that she had never been inside a building larger than her parish church before.

  She found herself trying to memorise which way the maid had led her, but it was no use; even if she were allowed to leave, she’d never remember the way back out again.

  Angelica felt utterly helpless. She was lost in a huge house and her liberty was no longer her own.

  Automatically, she found herself putting one foot in front of the other and following the maid up a steep flight of stairs, and then along another corridor. Passing a small window, she realised that they must be right at the very top of the house now, two, perhaps three storeys up. And as they went along the corridor, Angelica found herself passing a curious room – the door slightly ajar.

  Something about the room made her slow down and peek inside.

  It was her first glimpse into the house itself. Not just the corridors and rooms for the servants, but for the enjoyment of Lord Sutherland and his guests.

  It was purple. A plush, velvet purple. The whole room was purple. There was a large four-poster bed, dressed in purple silk sheets, and a plush, purple velvet throne-like chair, standing right in the centre. And Angelica saw strange things within the room, too: riding crops and cow whips, glistening metal clamps and strangely shaped wooden toys, all things that had no use being in such an elegant purple room as that.

  Still puzzling over quite what she had seen, it took a few more moments before Angelica realised that she was finally at her destination, another, much simpler wooden door right at the other end of the corridor from that curious regal room.

  “Here you go, my dear,” the maid said, a surprisingly kindly tone to her voice.

  “Thank you,” Angelica replied. “And what is your name? My name is Angelica.”

  “I’m Mary,” the maid said, smiling somewhat sadly. “Angelica? What an unusual, pretty name. It suits you somehow.”

  Angelica smiled, feeling herself blushing a little at the compliment, and also recognising in Mary’s tone the suggestion,
not the first time she had heard it either, that she was not quite like other girls.

  “Well,” Mary said, stepping aside from the doorway, “in you go. This is your room ...”

  Angelica gasped when she laid eyes on the room she would now call her home. It was beautiful! Large and elegantly furnished, the walls and bed carved from dark wood, the sheets clean and crisp white. And furthermore, there was a bathroom of her very own too! With a large marble bath standing right in the centre, just for her. Angelica had to laugh. In her wildest fantasies, all she had imagined was a bedroom that wasn’t freezing cold. And this was to be her reality now.

  Back at home, Angelica had had to strip wash at the kitchen sink, sharing the hot water with her mother and father, and always the last in the queue, and the idea of her very own bath – not to mention her very own bathroom – had her smiling and shaking her head in wonderment all over again.

  “There must be some mistake!” she exclaimed. “This cannot be mine!”

  “No mistake,” Mary replied. “Lord Sutherland was very clear that this was to be your room.”

  “Goodness!” Angelica gasped. “Lord Sutherland must be such a kind master, for all the maids to have such wonderful quarters as these!”

  But at this, Mary laughed and shook her head. “Oh, my poor love,” she said quietly. “Did nobody tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Angelica replied, puzzled.

  “You’re not here to be a maid,” Mary said simply.

  “What do you mean?” Angelica asked, utterly confused now.

  She waited for Mary to explain it to her, but the maid simply put a hand on her shoulder and tidied away a few stray strands of Angelica’s unruly red locks, just as her mother used to do.

  “You’ll find out soon enough, my love,” Mary whispered. “You’ve had a long journey, you should get yourself freshened up. So make sure to take a nice long bath. Get yourself good and ready. And I’ll lay you out some fresh clothes too. You won’t be needing these anymore ...” she said, indicating the raggedy, threadbare dress that Angelica was currently wearing.

  Angelica looked down at her dress. It was her one good dress. She had been so proud of it. She had sewn it four summers ago, using cloth she’d been given as a birthday present. She had looked after it well, saving it for Sunday best and carefully darning any worn patches. But she had grown so much over the past few years that there was no denying, the dress was too small for her now, showing far too much leg than was appropriate for a woman, and too tight around her budding breasts.

  Mary’s look said it all. She was a woman in a child’s dress, and it was time to put childish things away.

  Once Mary had run a deep bath, Angelica was finally left alone to bathe. She stepped out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor on the cold marble tiles of the bathroom, and then climbed into the bath, still unable to believe that this was really all hers now.

  Dear reader, do not forget that this was the first time that our sweet heroine had ever experienced the pleasure of a bath. Angelica sighed with happiness as she sank beneath the luxurious bubbly froth of the rose-scented bathwater, feeling all the cramps and aches in her body from that long uncomfortable carriage ride now melting away.

  Another thing that Angelica was unaccustomed to was time to think. At home, there was always something to do. The hearth to be swept, the dinner to be cooked, the goods to be taken to market. But now, Angelica task was simply to lie there.

  And as she lay there in the water, she began to think. She began to think about her strange new life, and she wondered exactly what her new role was, here at the house. Her mother had said that this would be a good job. She would no longer have to lug produce to market. But instead, she could stay indoors, beside the hearth, polishing fine silverware. But Mary said that she was not to be a maid. So what was she? Surely Lord Sutherland had employed her for a reason? Whatever it was, it was a reason that Mary felt unable to speak aloud.

  As her thoughts returned to Him once more: her dark, brooding Lord with his burning piercing gaze, Angelica felt her young body responding. These sensations were still rather new to her, and all through her girlhood she’d done her best to put such feelings and sensations from her mind.

  But here, at her leisure, alone in this large bath, Angelica felt her body softly calling out to Lord Sutherland. She felt her tender young breasts and her tight little cleft yearning almost painfully – yearning in a way she’d never really felt before.

  Angelica had almost no experience with men, you see, save from a quick fumble with William, the butcher’s son, one afternoon at the market’s, around behind a hay bale while her father had been tending to the stall.

  She’d wanted to see what all the fuss was about. He’d stuffed his fingers up inside her, hoping to please her, but had instead just caused her to yelp with pain and slap his hand away – all her amorous feelings gone in a flash, and putting her off the idea of anything further, with him or anyone, for quite a long time.

  But that had been over a summer ago, and Angelica wondered if she was perhaps ready to try again – to find out if there was some pleasure to be had for her in matters of that kind ...

  Just then, her thoughts were interrupted by a hurried-sounding knock on the door to her bathroom.

  “Yes?” she called out from the bath, confused.

  At this, the door swung open and there was Mary, wringing her hands. “Miss Angelica,” she said, a strange look on her face. “The Lord wants you now. Get dressed quickly. There’s no time. Come on. Out you come!”

  And she held out a towel for Angelica to step into and even began drying her slender frame, obviously wanting to hurry Angelica along as quick as possible.

  “Here, here,” Mary continued, stuffing a pair of pink silk bloomers into Angelica’s hand and then, while she was stepping into them, quickly selecting a simple cotton petticoat that, when Angelica pulled it on, did little to disguise her youthful figure beneath.

  Mary stepped back to admire her handiwork.

  “Where’s the rest?” Angelica asked, aghast, when she realised just how much of her body was still on-display. Her breasts were practically visible beneath the flimsy cotton, her nipples pointing out in two delicate little bumps. She suddenly longed for the comparable modestly of her threadbare dress.

  “That’ll do, Miss Angelica,” Mary said, in the same hurried tone as before. “Come, come, this way ...”

  And before Angelica could protest any further, the maid had grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the room and down the corridor – in the direction, Angelica realised with a curious shiver, of that strange purple room they’d passed on the way.

  And sure enough, that was where they came to a halt. The door was still a little ajar, and peering in, Angelica could see that the plush throne-like chair was now taken up by the imposing dark figure of Lord Sutherland.

  “In you go, my child,” Mary said quietly, pushing Angelica gently towards the doorway. “Don’t be frightened.”

  Angelica looked back at her in puzzlement, still so unsure of what was going on, then turned and stepped into the room, hearing Mary close the door firmly behind her.

  Just a few steps into the room, Angelica froze. Something about this whole experience felt dangerous to her: as if she were straying into new, unfamiliar territory. Something was telling her to run, to get out of here as quickly as possible. She could feel her skin – still flushed and warm from her bath – now prickling with goose bumps, too, and it felt as if the air itself in this plush, purple room was crackling with pure energy. Furthermore, Angelica’s heart seemed to be pounding so hard against her ribcage that it threatened to burst from her chest at any moment.

  “Well?” the cold voice of Lord Sutherland boomed into the room, “don’t just stand there. Come into the light. Let me see you properly.”

  From where he was sitting on that large, throne-like chair, his face was still in shadow, and as Angelica took a few more timid steps until she was sta
nding right in front of him, she felt her still-wet hair dangling in dripping strands around her bony young shoulders, and felt once more just how flimsy and revealing her cotton petticoat was before this brooding man, sat so proudly there in front of her, dressed in his usual well-tailored clothes, the cloth as black as night, his legs spread wide apart.

  Was this how rich people lived, she wondered. No decent girl in her village would ever show herself in front of a stranger, a man, in her undergarments. But Mary seemed to suggest that appearing so attired was a common occurrence.

  And as Angelica approached, his face finally emerged from shadow, too: his eyes, she realised, were just as burning, just as intense and direct, as she had remembered them. Once more, she felt the strange sensation that he was staring directly into her very soul, plucking out her most secret thoughts and feelings – sensing somehow the very thoughts she’d been having about him, back when she’d been bathing ...

  “Next time I summon you,” he said coldly, “make sure to dry your hair. It was the exquisite colouring of your hair that convinced me to buy you in the first place. Be mindful of that in future.”

  “Y-yes, My Lordship,” Angelica stammered, her voice sounding so small and puny compared to his booming tones.

  As she stood there before him, feeling his gaze taking her in, from head to toe, she held her breath, clutching the air tightly in her lungs, hoping finally that Lord Sutherland would tell her what exactly he wanted from her.

  And that is exactly what he did. But his command caused Angelica to gasp in shock.

  “Take off your clothes,” he instructed, coldly and calmly.

  “But ...” Angelica began, then stopped, her mind spinning, wondering whether she was really about to argue with this man. After all, what could she even say?

  “But what?” he hissed, the words flying from his lips with such rage it caused Angelica to jump in surprise.