CHAPTER I
A CHANGE OF EMPLOYMENT
"You little ninny, Warnock. I told you to polish the fish knives, not give them an
idle dusting! Look at those traces of tarnish in the handles! I want them burnished until
you can see your silly face in them, miss. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs. Beacon. I`m sorry, Mrs. Beacon."
The young woman flinched involuntarily as the housekeeper clattered a large tray of
silver cutlery down upon the scullery table. She wondered what the master and mistress
would say if they knew their valuable tableware was being so brutally mistreated.
"Sorry didn`t build the Empire. On with it, girl. I shall return in one hour to
inspect your work."
The large woman in grey stalked out of the small, dark room, closing the door behind her
with a slight bang. Staccato footsteps retreated down the corridor, then silence.
McGeever, the young Irish scullery maid, looked up from her task, preparing beetroot. The
palms of her hands were stained bright pink. She smiled, consolingly.
"We calls her Bacon on accounts of her being such a pig."
Warnock simply nodded, her dark eyes fixed upon the scullery door. Eventually, she
shrugged slightly and, picking up a fish knife, began to rub with as much vigour as she
could muster from her cold and aching form. It had been a long night, tossing and turning
in the creaking old bed with the sagging mattress, with McGeever`s icy feet occasionally
pressing against the backs of her calves like a pair of flaccid semi-frosted fish. Maybe
she would knit the girl a pair of bed socks. Christ, it was freezing. McGeever appeared to
be in a chatty mood. Her strong, broad fingers worked on, cutting off the tops and
trailing roots of the beets, scrubbing the purple globes free of dirt. She had spread an
old cloth across her knees to prevent her pinny from getting stained.
"It must seem very quiet for you here in the country, after London. I have cousins
in London but I`ve never seen the place. Been to Dublin, though."
Warnock shivered and lifted the knife she was polishing up to the yellow light from the
hissing gas mantle. The sun wasn`t even up yet. Darkness pressed against the four small
panes of the tiny window set high on the scullery wall.
"I`ll get used to it. The air is fresh here. The city can be hard on your chest,
especially when there`s a fog comes up from the river."
The young woman paused to examine her diminutive reflection in the silvered surface of
the knife`s blade. McGeever snorted and wiped her hands on the rag with an impatient
gesture.
"You`ll have no time for primping here! What work did they set you to do in London,
then? Doesn`t look as if you`ve spent much time with the cutlery. You`ll be at that all
day and old Ma Bacon will be apoplectic by tea time."
"Will she now?"
Warnock breathed on the knife, a fine coating of mist briefly clouding the reflection of
her deep brown eyes. Idly, she wondered how long it would be before McGeever or the
housekeeper or anyone else discovered her guilty secret. She was unmarried but not a maid
in any sense of the word. Well, she had better learn and learn fast. She looked up just in
time to catch a sharp look from the Irish girl, who put down her basin and stood up, the
beet-stained cloth slowly falling to the cold, flagged floor.
"I`m going to show you something and it`s for your own good."
McGeever`s round cheeks were shiny and flushed almost as deeply as the root vegetables in
her bowl. Her hair was thick and dark, her mouth as small and round as the spout of a
teapot. Warnock watched the other girl impassively as she began to lift up the hem of her
skirt. Layers of white petticoats were hoisted to reveal dimpled knees and plump thighs.
"You`re not wearing any drawers."
She had to remember to sound at least a little bit shocked, although going without
drawers was a common enough folly where she had just come from. McGeever bit her bottom
lip and turned around to face the wall, simultaneously raising her skirts to waist level.
Warnock saw.
"You`ve been caned, Mary."
The young girl`s fleshy white buttocks were liberally striped with livid scarlet welts.
Abruptly, she let her skirts fall and her face glowed redder than ever as she resumed her
seat on the hard wooden chair. When she finally spoke, her voice had diminished to a pale
shadow of its former self.
"Be warned, Lily. If you don`t pull your weight in this household, you`ll get as
much--or worse."
Ah, but I already know all about that little game.
"So, is it Mrs. Beacon who delivers the sore bottoms?"
Oddly enough, she already knew the answer, before the Irish girl had time to reply.
"Oh no, that bitch`s bark is worse than her bite, thank heavens. No, it`s Mr.
Gerrard, the butler, who sees to the disciplining of staff. I did a bad job of
black-leading the grate in his sitting room last Wednesday morning. Jesus, I thought I`d
never be able to sit down again. I swear it felt as if I`d been stung on the bum by a nest
of hornets!"
Lily had made a swift assessment of Mr. Gerrard the previous evening when she arrived. He
was a large man, somewhat portly, with a bulbous, purplish nose that suggested a penchant
for imbibing spirits. His bushy eyebrows met in the middle and he frequently consulted a
large pocket watch. She had to remember to be frightened, to be totally aghast.
"You poor thing, Mary McGeever. I swear I`d faint clean away if he tried to do that
to me."
Mary resumed her work with the beets.
"Just be warned, that`s all. I don`t know what kind of easy, fancy ways you`ve been
used to in your London town house, but you`d better pull yourself up by your
bootstraps."
Easy, fancy ways...
Smiling slightly, Lily began to polish with a vengeance, her mind firmly fixed upon her
former home.
* * * *
"My dear, a rose by any name could never smell as sweet as little Miss Lily
here."
The gentleman was an American and clumsily charming in the typical manner of his
countrymen. He stood in the doorway of the dimly lit bedroom, swaying slightly with an
excess of fine wine and after dinner port. Behind him, Mrs. Jakes lingered, deftly tucking
the guinea he`d proffered into the recesses of her small velvet bag.
"I think you`ll find this girl meets your requirements, sir. However, we do have a
house rule concerning excessive marking of the flesh. If you beat her so she cannot work
for a few days, you must pay more to cover our loss."
The madam`s scarlet mouth seemed garish in the soft light of the room and her bombazine
dress crackled slightly as she withdrew, exchanging a knowing look with the man who merely
nodded politely and cleared his throat. Lily waited quietly, knowing that very soon the
deceptive stillness would become a violent storm. She understood sadists.
"Are you a good girl, sweet Lily?"
Already his voice had changed, as swiftly as he closed the door behind him and casually
tossed his hat upon a chair. Lily kept her eyes upon the ivory backs of her hands, which
were demurely crossed upon her lap. She replied immediately yet softly.
"No, sir."
This was a familiar game, the game of cat and mouse, always the same but for some minor
twist in theme. Schoolmaster and errant pupil, cruel husband and virgin bride. The
American did not remove his gloves.
"Oh? All girls must be good girls. The penalty for sin must be severe."
"Yes, sir."
Her voice had diminished to the faintest whisper and she realised that her heart had
begun to beat like a drum. The body knows before the mind takes in what is to come. He was
a monster, this Colonial, with his Southern twang. Why, he probably kept slaves, real life
slaves and maybe he even beat them too. She slid to her knees on the rug beside the large
and opulent bed. Subservience would please this arrogant oaf.
"Did I tell you to kneel, Miss Lily?"
The American moved around the bed and took a handful of the young woman`s soft dark hair.
She cried out in pain as he sharply tugged her head back and slapped her several times
across the face.
"Little bitch. Worthless little bitch. What are you?"
"I`m a worthless little bitch, sir."
She loathed such humiliation but went through the motions of her act, moist eyes downcast
to gaze at the swirling pattern of the Turkish rug. Large, slightly moist hands tore at
the flimsy bodice of her nightgown, rapidly exposing her round, firm breasts to the warm
air of the bedroom. Steely fingers pinched her nipples hard and, despite herself, she
moaned softly.
"Slut. Worthless slut."
"Use me, then."
She couldn`t believe she had uttered those words, a red rag to the bull that towered over
her cowering form. The American raised one eyebrow quizzically at such a forward
outburst.
"Oh, I shall, Miss Lily. Believe me, I shall."
The next thing she knew, she was lifted up and thrown down upon the bed, so violently
that it knocked the wind out of her and she could barely catch her breath. The heavy
mahogany posts of the headboard collided with the bedroom wall and Lily gasped as gloved
hands found her throat and began to squeeze relentlessly.
"Insolent whore. Why, I could rid this earth of a piece of bad business in just the
twinkling of an eye, my dear child."
His voice was as soft and sibilant as the faint hiss of gas in the mantle on the bedroom
wall. Darkness was rising, a velvety pool of inky oblivion. She was beyond screaming, her
heartbeat a heavy pulse which filled her ears to overflowing. Blood suffused her face and
her hands fluttered impotently against the scarlet silk of the counterpane.
I`m going to die. He will kill me.
The thought seemed to echo rhythmically in her mind like the persistent fatalistic
dripping of a tap.
Kill me. Kill me. Kill me...
The American seemed a relentless black mass, which loomed above her like a thundercloud,
casting a shadow over her tortured face.
"But why should I ease your pain, my demonic daughter? I want you to know what it is
to truly suffer, as the dear Lord Jesus Christ suffered for you and I upon the cross. Only
through the ritual shedding of blood, sweat and tears can we come close to saving your
wretched harlot`s soul."
The pressure eased and Lily finally took a ragged breath, coughing convulsively as the
sadist`s hands moved from her throat to her breasts.
"Such a pretty little creature, like a sweet, ripe apple, yet rotten at the core.
Turn onto your hands and knees and raise your nightgown."
Slowly, shakily, the young woman did as she was bade, entering a vague dreamlike place
between fantasy and reality. She crouched on all fours like an animal, her long hair
falling across her face as she bowed her head to the mound of pillows at the top of the
bed. Her bared haunches felt frighteningly exposed. What would happen next? What depraved
pleasure would this monster take from her? Instinctively, she tried to relax her bottom
but found herself clenched tight.
Oh God, he will really hurt me if I can`t be at peace!
Lily had known many a rough gentleman in her time at Mrs. Jakes` house, and, indeed, had
quite swiftly come to adopt the position of the special girl, the one who could and would
accommodate the most darkly perverted tastes of the clientele. However, there was
something about this American, something very wrong. A gloved finger found her anus and
began to insinuate itself into her resistant body. Terror began to rise in her, an
uncontrollable and unheard of emotion. She was never afraid, no matter how cruelly her
clients abused her. The bruises always healed, and the payment was good, infinitely better
than serving in a shop or sewing for her keep. It wasn`t the first time she had sensed
evil intent in a gentleman but this was something else, something profoundly malevolent.
"I don`t believe you can be a virgin, Miss Lily, yet you feel so closed to me, so
tight. I like that. I like that very much indeed."
The brute`s voice had changed again, sounding a little more human. Lily thought of
calling out for help, of apologising and saying that she felt unwell and could not
proceed, yet somehow she was caught in an invisible net, unable to move or to issue a
sound. The finger probed deeper and she summoned all her strength to open herself, to
yield to the man, as she had done so many times before with other men that wanted to take
her like a beast. Still, her body formed a tightening spiral about his finger, clamping
down as he drove in, pulling at her tender flesh, beginning to hurt her again. If he tried
to enter her she would surely tear. A light sheen of perspiration coated her forehead and
her mouth was dry. Finally, with a monumental effort, she found her voice.
"I can`t, sir. I`m sorry but I can`t."
The American withdrew his hand from her trembling buttocks and Lily froze, waiting for
the man`s reaction. Refusal was not normally an option. There was a long pause, then the
man sighed softly, as if all the cares of the world lay upon his shoulders.
"I see. The Lily deems herself too pure. Well, you know I could take you in any way
I desire, don`t you, child? All it would take would be for me to bind your wrists."
Lily`s heart pounded at the thought of being restrained by the brute, of being pinned
down like a butterfly and driven through until she screamed.
"Yes, sir. I understand. But please..."
Her voice faltered and cracked. Her captor was toying with the silky cords that fastened
the heavy drapes about the bed. Thick strands of crimson thread cascaded over the soft kid
of his gloves like tiny rivulets of blood. As if tolling a death knell, the clock above
the fireplace began to strike the midnight hour.
"Damnation."
The young woman did not want to look but curiosity got the better of her. Slowly, she
turned her head to observe the figure by the bed. He no longer seemed to see her, his dark
eyes firmly fixed upon the chiming clock. A strange expression haunted his hateful face,
as if he too was alarmed by the night`s events. As the clock struck the twelfth hour he
abruptly turned on his heel and strode out of the bedroom without a backward glance. To
her dismay, Lily found that her eyes were filled with tears.
* * * *
"You`re not hungry, then?"
McGeever`s slightly peevish brogue broke through the cloak of Lily`s reverie. They sat at
one end of a long oak table that filled one wall of the vast kitchen, where the servants
took their meals. The food was good, a thick broth and great slabs of freshly baked bread
and sweet butter, yet Lily felt as if she had a lump in her throat. Witnessing the result
of the Irish girl`s brush with Mr. Gerrard had brought back a steady stream of nightmarish
memories.
"I`m all right. You can have my bread and butter, Mary."
The young girl`s eyes lit up with greed and she swiftly scooped up the remnants of Lily`s
lunch, leaving nothing but a light dusting of crumbs upon the plate. McGeever munched
steadily while delivering a lecture.
"You needs to keep up your strength. Still plenty of work to do before we`re done
for the day. There`s a party arriving on the last train."
"I know that, Mary."
Lily did her best to keep her voice civil, although she was rapidly losing patience with
both the Irish girl and her new situation. She hadn`t realised it would be so hard, rising
in the dark hours before dawn, the endless backbreaking chores. One morning she had been
there! One bloody morning. Surely it would get easier when she got used to it. The thought
of years of unending drudgery made her feel desperate. This was why she had chosen the
other life, with all its risks and thrills and follies. However, the nasty business with
the American had soured her enjoyment of life at Mrs. Jakes` establishment and she had
asked a regular and influential client if he would help her escape from her old life and
make a fresh start. The gentleman had presented her with a glowing reference in return for
her solemn assurance that she would contact him the moment she decided to resume her old
situation. She was then able to apply for a domestic position at "a good house"
and thus arrived at remote Akenhead Hall on a dark and dreary December evening. The same
train that had deposited her from a third class carriage onto the near empty platform of
Church Edmond station would soon be bringing a party of house guests.
"Do come along, Warnock!"
Reluctantly, Lily rose from the table, a dull ache already gnawing at her lower back. She
would need to get McGeever to help her tighten her stays. As she carried her bowl and
plate to wash them at the scullery sink, her eyes met those of the butler. Silently, he
stood in the short hallway between the kitchen and his inner sanctum, coolly observing the
newest member of his domestic staff. Swiftly, Lily dropped her gaze to the task at hand
and passed by him in as meek and dutiful a manner as she could summon from her rebellious
soul.
| 
