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Alastair Delaney. That’s a name from old blood if I ever heard one. The name rings a faint bell, but the English have so many lords and bloodlines that not even historians can keep track of them all, more often than not.
As I pull my light luggage up to the street, I see a gentleman standing by a rather nice sedan holding a card up with my name on it. I brighten up, hurrying towards him. “Hello there, I’m Maisie! I do hope I’m the Maisie Kent you’re waiting on?”
“Only if I’m the ride to the Delaney estate you’re looking for,” the man says with a gruff smile. He’s a bit of a stiff, I can tell, but he’s trying. He’s a paunchy man in his fifties, easily, and he has the look of someone who’s been in service his whole life. I know the type. “Right this way.”
I clamber into the car with him, looking about nervously as he gives an assuring smile, and we pull off. His name is Calvin, I learn after brief introductions, but he goes by Cal, and he’s worked for the Delaneys all his life.
“How are they to work for?” I venture, desperate for a little information about my new boss. “Alastair especially, I mean — I assume he’s the only one I’m going to be serving?”
“Oh, it’s not a job for just anyone,” Cal says as we drive, his voice a vague tone that makes me suspect this is going to be more trouble than I bargained for. “But Lord Alastair is the only one who tends to the estates, for the most part. His brothers are off at all corners of the earth.”
“Right,” I say, a little uncertain.
“A few things you should know, though,” he says, glancing at me with meaningful eyes. “Ground rules. Lord Alastair is quite strict about following commands.” Commands? This really must be an old-fashioned gig. “Wear precisely what he instructs you to wear, leave nothing off and add nothing to the uniform unless he tells you to, and he may.” I scrunch my nose. This is giving me a weird feeling. “You must be punctual — the staff assemble to be inspected every day at noon, so we’ll be arriving just in time for you to get changed in your quarters. You’re free to leave the grounds, but Lord Alastair has your number, and that leads to the most important rule of all.” He gives me a deadly serious look.
“If Lord Alastair tells you to come, you come.”
My face goes a little red in the cheeks, and Cal chuckles, backpedaling a little. “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Mmhmm,” I say, my voice a little quieted. “Thanks.”
3
My jaw drops at the sight of the manor. Cal chuckles at my shock. “Careful there, don’t get too swept up at the sight of it.” But I can’t help it.
It looks like something out of a Jane Austen novel. The Victorian manor looms over wide, rolling hills of the estates, lines of hedges accentuating the dark colors of the stonework as it stands out on the horizon, outlined by the gray English skies that always threaten to rain.
It’s breathtaking, yet I feel a chill of nervousness run through me. It’s almost like a vampire’s castle, so big and ominous. I can almost imagine bats flying out at night. Still, there’s a certain charm to it that makes me excited.
We pull up, and Cal helps me unload my luggage. “Don’t forget,” he says, checking his watch, “Down in the main hall at noon sharp. Someone will meet you inside to take you to your quarters to change.
“Um, thank you, I-” I start, but Cal is already getting into his car and tipping his driver’s hat.
“Take care, Maisie. And remember what I told you,” he says, leaving me alone at the doorstep, bewildered.
As if on cue, the doors creak open, and I’m greeted by a face that looks refreshingly cheerful for the dour estate.
“Oh, hello there, dearie!” chimes an older woman. She’s dressed in traditional maid’s attire, complete with the black-and-white color scheme, though her uniform is somewhat faded from use. She has blonde hair that’s going white, a plump figure, and a warm smile. “I’m Beth—welcome to Rookswood! You must be Maisie, the new maid.”
“Why yes,” I say, a little taken aback by her warmness. “Pleasure!”
“Yes yes,” Beth says, ushering me inside and gesturing for me to follow. “You too, but we’ll have to catch up later, I’m afraid. Oh, I wish Cal hadn’t brought you so punctually, but Lord Alastair insisted you be here before noon. He’s a bit possessive of his staff, you see.”
I’m a little put off by that. I’m getting a more sinister mental image of a bitter old man who has nothing to do but torment his serving staff. “Right,” I say, a little dazed.
“Don’t worry,” she assures me as she reaches a door up the stairs of the entryway and off to the east. The interior is as lavish and haunting as the outside—old, dark wood, polished marble floors, high chandeliers, and the scent of food baking are the only things bringing life to this gothic manor. “I’m sure this all seems a bit, well, intimidating, and I’ll admit, it’s no cakewalk! But dearie,” she says in a thick Yorkshire accent, “if you come from good domestic stock, I’m sure you’ll do well!”
Stock?
I bite my lip as she pushes me into my quarters, and before I can answer, she chirps, “Your outfit’s on the bed. Noon sharp, meet down at the bottom of the stairs! I’ve got to
tend to the scones.”
And just like that, I’m left alone.
I step forward to the four-poster bed, admiring the furnishings of the place. I have to admit, they really didn’t cut costs on the servants’ quarters. This place looks like a luxury hotel room! Then I turn my eyes to the bed, and my heart nearly stops.
The outfit on the bed is hardly a uniform. It has the general colors and cut of a French maid’s uniform, but it’s much...frillier than what Beth was wearing. There are a pair of black stiletto heels on the floor, and thigh-high white socks trail up from them, ending in lace hems with a pink bow at the front of each. The skirt hardly covers...well, anything, and I know there’s no way it’ll cover the white panties I’m wearing today if I ever have to bend over. As I fit the top on, I notice the push it gives my breasts, and the collar plunges down to show off more than a little cleavage. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whisper to myself as I pick up the little cloth tiara-hat that goes with the ensemble.
