When Elizabeth’s parents died suddenly, whilst not overtly wealthy, they had provided for their only daughter. Placed in the guardianship of an Oxford professor, with the specific instructions that their residual wealth be used for her education, she was also to have an unspoilt adolescence, learning self sufficiency, given she would be alone in an unforgiving world. The professor was true to his promise and, during her formative years, between relentless studying and, much to the delight of the professor’s wife, Elizabeth helped with the upkeep of the household. At the age of twenty one Elizabeth was glad to be free of these shackles and face the world.
Becoming a Barrister is not easy, for a young woman to become a Barrister very difficult, for a young woman in 1919, almost impossible. The Law, a male domain, the name of Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones stuck in the throat of almost all the judiciary of the land. But she was good, very good in fact exceptional. Not only did she have the brain, she also had the looks which infuriated the establishment even more.
Having forced her way into law school and graduated at the top of the all male class she had won an intern at Dawson, Roscoe and Mallard, the top law firm in the centre of an increasingly cosmopolitan London.
Resented in the extreme by her male contemporary’s and peers one of Elizabeth’s male associate’s, Earl Radford, whilst insanely jealous of her success and frustrated by her frigid response to his advance’s, had befriended her and worked to endear himself to the star of chambers. Earl Radford was not going to be overshadowed by a woman!
Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones’s name was up in lights, in the legal world, having successfully defended the wetlands trust for a land grab by the solicitor general. This on the back of having played a key role in preparing the Representation of the people act of 1918, Elizabeth having been heavily involved in the suffragette’s movement that gained limited but significant voting rights for women. The highly publicised success, in the land grab trial would be the last case for the somewhat increasingly arrogant Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones and this is the story of why.
Earl Radford convinced Elizabeth that she deserved a break and invited her to spend time on one of his estates, Craig Gowrie, situated in a remote part of Scotland, encouraging Elizabeth to get away from the hurly burly of city life and the pressures that being a leading barrister brought. Elizabeth was reluctant but with the Earl’s subtle persuasion she eventually agreed.
London was begrudgingly, but increasingly, coming to terms with the emancipation of women, a process that was slowly trickling outwards to the shires. But, accepting women to be anything other than decorative wives, domestic servants for the wealthy or doting housewives to the less well off, beyond the boundaries of the capital was an anathema. Women had their place and most knew it with little choice but to conform to established traditions. Women, such as the successful Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones, however humble her roots, were also frowned upon by the majority of her gender.
A last letter posted to her friend Georgina, Elizabeth had promised not to tell anyone of her trip but Georgina; well she was her best friend wasn’t she? Trunks loaded and sat comfortably in her compartment the whistle blew and the sleeper train to Scotland slowly chuffed out of the station. Earl Radford watched as the locomotive disappeared in a swirl of smoke and stream and with it the woman he loathed Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones.
In the comfort of her first class carriage, the long journey north, as the train rattled along, was not arduous although, having been explicitly forbidden to take any of her case work with her, by the scheming Earl Radford, Elizabeth became increasingly restless. It was a welcome relief when the guard eventually announced that the train would be arriving at its destination within the hour.
Whilst the initial part of her journey was in the comfort of first class accommodation this was not the case with her connecting train. Not only was her ticket, provided by Earl Radford, third class, a demarcation within the packed carriage resulted in her being ushered toward the rear. The front seats reserved for male passengers, behind these men with their wives. It was not common in these parts for women to travel unaccompanied and those that did, seen to be ladies at best of low morals. The cramped conditions and the ignominy of being herded to the rear of the carriage enraged Elizabeth but more so, that the four women around her accepted the situation without complaint. This was a new world for Elizabeth and she was already beginning to regret leaving the familiarity of her home environment.
The four hour journey into the wilderness thankfully came to an end and stepping onto the windswept platform Elizabeth sighed with relief. Elizabeth’s trunks having unknown to her been removed from the train before it departed London, at the insistence of Earl Radford, Elizabeth waited in vain for her luggage.
The platform cleared and the futile search for her cases exhausted Elizabeth sat on a bench staring down the railway tracks pulling a wrap around her shoulders against the bitter wind.
Elizabeth had not changed for over a day and with the soot and grime from the trains looked less than her best. She was cold and exhausted from her travels and seething that the trunks containing her clothes and accessories for her break, so she thought, had been lost.
Having been sat for some time contemplating getting the next train back to her home comfort’s and the world she knew a tall gentleman approached from the exit and spoke in a quite gruff tone.
“Miss Fitzroy Jones? Miss Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones?”
Introducing himself to be the steward of Craig Gowrie, Earl Radford’s estate, he looked at Elizabeth with a level of disdain.
Elizabeth smiled seeking to soften the man’s demeanour.
“Yes that right, I am so glad to see you.”
His demeanour or tone did not change.
“Your belongings Miss?”
Elizabeth thought the term “belongings” strange but perhaps that is how they spoke here?
“My trunks have not arrived I am afraid, I have asked the porter to investigate and he said he would check. I told him I was going to Craig Gowrie and he said that when they arrived he would send them on.”
A half smile broke on the steward’s face.
“Yes of course, very well Miss, come with me.”
Elizabeth had not been any distance in a horse drawn carriage for many years and bumped and bounced for what seemed an age along meandering poor roadways then tree lined rutted lanes, the carriage eventually swept through the entrance to Craig Gowrie. The driveway, some half a mile in length behind large iron gates and much better maintained, leading to the imposing frontage of the impressive Craig Gowrie hall.
Alighting from the carriage Elizabeth raised her long skirts from the rain lashed mud that they had unfortunately draped into and stepped onto the stone steps leading to the doorway.
The doors swinging open a face smiled at her, the first smile she had seen since arriving in this wilderness. It was the face of the head house keeper Mrs Rudd. A smart looking lady, perhaps a little older than Elizabeth, but not by much, similar height and figure although corsets of the day hid many an unflattering fold.
“Elizabeth, welcome, we have been expecting you do come inside.”
Mrs Rudd looked an apprehensive Elizabeth up and down. Elizabeth looking a little bedraggled a soup stain on her blouse, from her last meal on the train travelling north the day before, her shoes and the hems of her skirts wet and muddied and a general soiling from the soot and grime of the trains.
“Well you have arrived safe and sound that’s the main thing, that must have been quite a journey for you dear, especially alone?”
Elizabeth was about to reply to recount the horrors of her travel, the lost luggage etc but the question was not a question but a statement and Mrs Rudd continued.
“Earl Radford has explained everything to us dear, you have met Angus, he can be a little forthright at times but you will get used to that”
“Angus will fetch your belongings so let me show you to your room and you can get out of those filthy clothes and clean yourself up.”
The word belongings being used again seemed strange but Elizabeth let it pass not even bothering to mention she had no “Belongings” her luggage having gone missing. She saw no need to explain to the hired help of the household.
Following Mrs Rudd up a stairway the door was opened into Elizabeth’s room.
“One of our reception rooms dear.”
A welcoming fire in the grate but the room was austere, minimal furniture, little in the way of ornamentation, narrow stone lintel windows affording only a restrictive view to the rear of the grandee house. Elizabeth thought it strange that for such a palatial residence her room, the room of a guest, was so frugal.
Mrs Rudd left Elizabeth to familiarise herself with her accommodation there was not much, a bed, closet, drawers, vanity, a chair and table by the side of the fireplace and in a small annex a cramped bathroom.
Without a knock on the door Mrs Rudd was back a bundle of clothing in her arms.
“Angus has told me about the loss of your belongings dear so I have brought these for you to wear, they may not be the best fit but they will do until we get you settled.”
Leaving the garments on the bed Mrs Rudd smiled at Elizabeth. Something in her smiles a little discomforting reminding her of the looks that she had received from the women on the train.
“When you are ready come down to the main hall and I will show you around the house, you will need to know where everything is won’t you dear.”
Having washed in the limited facilities Elizabeth, wrapped in a harsh large towel, sat by the fire staring into the flames thinking of her comfortable apartments back in London, reflecting on the horrendous journey to who knows where she was, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Elizabeth having no idea where she was apart from that it was Earl Radford’s isolated estate Craig Gowrie.
Having dozed for some time Elizabeth stretched and yawned discarding the towel and looked at the clothes that Mrs Rudd had left for her. Elizabeth was not fashion conscious but smiled and giggled to herself inspecting the display on the bed. Her own clothes crumpled and soiled could not be worn again and at least the clothing Mrs Rudd had left with her was clean.
The underwear plain cotton, generous bloomers, no corset, Elizabeth ran her fingers along the broad straps of the petticoat before lifting the dress, again a generous fit buttoned to a neat high collar, the material was coarse but it was what it was, a pair of stout boot like shoes she thought twice about but laced them on all the same. Elizabeth messed with her hair but dragged her long blonde hair into a ponytail not wanting to fuss.
Elizabeth straightened the tight white cuffs that matched the collar of her dress, and left her room heading down the stairway to find the main hall.
Stepping from the stairway, along the corridor towards a set of large doors, Elizabeth was feeling uneasy, dressed as she was in the unfamiliar plain ill fitting clothes. Whilst not realised at the time these would be amongst the better garments she would ever wear again.
Nervously opening the large doors she had found the main hall of Craig Gowrie and at the end of the large room stood Mrs Rudd. Her voice echoed in the vastness of the chamber.
“There you are, I thought you may have got lost dear, come and sit at my desk.”
Elizabeth strode across the flagged floor to where Mrs Rudd stood.
Mrs Rudd pointed to a chair
“Sit dear sit.”
Elizabeth listened whilst Mrs Rudd described the outlay of the house, the kitchens, the dining room, the drawing room, the billiard room, the bedrooms, the entertaining rooms, then the stables but no mention of the room she had been given?.
Elizabeth was not given the opportunity to interrupt or question Mrs Rudd who methodically described, in some detail, the layout of Craig Gowrie.
Mrs Rudd could sense that Elizabeth was itching to ask questions but was in no mood for discussion.
Standing, Mrs Rudd smiled.
“Right Elizabeth, any questions save them until we have finished. Now you know what we have here at Craig Gowrie let me take you on a tour.”
Elizabeth was traipsed around the rambling house, each room, the steam filled kitchen, where she saw Maddie and Jennie two plump shrew like girls busy at their culinary duties finding time only to curtsy to Mrs Rudd before going about their work.
The downstairs tour completed Elizabeth was shown the elegant bedrooms with views over the manicured gardens either side of the gravel driveway leading into the distance. Mrs Rudd telling a somewhat bemused Elizabeth how keeping these rooms, in pristine condition, was quite a task.
Leaving the third floor bedrooms a nervous girl, in her neat maid’s uniform, holding dirty linen, entered the corridor from one of the rooms and curtsied before Mrs Rudd.
“Mistress the curtain rail is loose shall I ask Mr Angus to repair it?”
Mrs Rudd’s demeanour changed in an instant and her harsh tone left Elizabeth open mouthed has she listened whilst Mrs Rudd admonished the quivering maid.
“How dare you approach me when I am with someone, how dare you girl away with you before I take my strap to you?”
The girl quaked in front of Mrs Rudd, curtsied then scuttled away. Mrs Rudd turned to Elizabeth a smile returning to her face.
“Cathy has been with us two years now quite the little Madame when she came at first, but she is learning that maid’s, when taken into service here at Craig Gowrie ,must obey my strict rules. “
Mrs Rudd opened the door to the room that the maid had just left.
“This is the Jameson suite; Cathy is preparing it for you dear; it will be ready tomorrow.”
Elizabeth was beginning to worry but when Mrs Rudd told her she would be moving from the cramped room she had been given, into one of the salubrious suites, those worries dissipated and felt much more relaxed for the remainder of the tour.
An evening meal served Elizabeth returned to her room and placed the dirty clothes she arrived in into the basket outside her room, as requested, and slipping into the nightdress provided was soon snuggled up in her bed and asleep.Elizabeth did transfer to the Jameson suite and very comfortable it was. Three days and still no sign of Elizabeth’s luggage, of course it was never coming, it had never left London? With nothing else to wear Elizabeth made do with the dress given to her by Mrs Rudd and was beginning to become accustomed to its loose fit and unflattering plainness. The clothes that Elizabeth arrived in seemed to have disappeared and, despite asking Mrs Rudd, they never reappeared.
Earl Radford had sent his instructions for Miss Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones to his Housekeeper has he had for the other girls, who had crossed him or spurned his advances; Socialite, Catherine Tweedale, Lady Madeline Hawksmere and the Marquis of Denbigh’s daughter Jennifer Danesbridge all having become willingly enslaved to be maid’s at Craig Gowrie and the successful barrister Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones would be suffering the same fate.
A week exploring the high walled grounds, reading and generally relaxing Elizabeth was coming to terms with the splendid isolation. Craig Gowrie, situated high in the hills, not another dwelling in sight, the surrounding scenery was breathtaking. A total contrast to the buzzing metropolis of London and It was the Tuesday of the second week that a concerned Mrs Rudd approached Elizabeth in the library.
“Elizabeth I wonder if you can help me, Lord Carlisle and his shooting party, Earl Radford invited them to stay for a few days and I wonder if you would mind giving up the Jameson suite until their visit is over? Three, four days at the most and they will be gone, by weekend for sure.” “You can use the reception room again if you don’t mind?”
The reception room Elizabeth was given on her arrival was of course not a reception room at all it was at the back of the house part of the servant’s quarters.
Elizabeth agreed what else could she do, she was a guest and it was a small inconvenience, she would be returning to the Jameson suite when the shooting party had left, wouldn’t she?
That evening, after dinner, Mrs Rudd approached Elizabeth again the same concerned look on her face and spun her web of deceitful entrapment.
“Elizabeth I don’t know what to do, I really don’t.” “One of my girls is away seeing her parents and now Cathy, the maid you met the other day has gone sick, some virus or other.” “Lord Carlisle’s shooting party will be here tomorrow, so short staffed, I will never cope, I can’t let Earl Radford down, and Lord Carlisle is such an important guest.”
Mrs Rudd was skilled in her duplicity and appeared to be close to tears.
“What can I do?”
Elizabeth was misguidedly sympathetic comforting the scheming Mrs Rudd.
“Is there no one you can contact, another house perhaps, someone from the nearest village?”
Mrs Rudd, even with her practiced skills, found it hard to feign vulnerability but continued to portray a hopeless situation.
“O that I could dear, the nearest village is over twenty miles away across open moor, by roadway much further and there are no houses of note, but for the tied farmer’s crofts, no one there would be suitable.”
Elizabeth sharing Mrs Rudd’s contrived dilemma, drawn into her drama, steps fatefully into Mrs Rudd’s carefully crafted snare.
“Well could I help, fill in for Cathy or the other girl, the girl away at her parents?”
Mrs Rudd looked at Elizabeth.
“No, no you can’t do that, you are a guest here yourself and I doubt you will know little of domestic skills, why, I fancy you have a maid of your own to do your chores?”
Elizabeth smiled thinking of her formative years helping the professor’s wife.
“You would be surprised, will be surprised, I am sure I can cope, look I will do it, and I have nothing else to do, do I?”
Mrs Rudd hid her emotions and raised a weak smile.
“Very well then if you insist, but on one condition, I can’t be seen to show you favouritism, discipline must be maintained with my maid's I will have to treat you like the other maid’s in service here, the same conditions.”
All was agreed and Elizabeth shuffled down into her bed that evening feeling its firmness compared to the comfort she had briefly enjoyed in the Jameson suite and thought of her agreement to being a maid for Mrs Rudd. She had been self sufficient in her apartments in London, helped keep house for the professor’s wife she would be fine.
Waking bleary eyed Elizabeth focused on the face of Mrs Rudd stood by her bed.
“Come on it’s almost five thirty a maid’s day starts early?”
Elizabeth stretched as Mrs Rudd drew back the covers from the bed and pointed to the closet.
“I have hung your uniforms in the closet for you and can you sign the insurance papers before you come down, I will be in the kitchen.” “Don’t dawdle Lord Carlisle will be here with his party just after eight, they will be expecting breakfast.”
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed the realisation of what she had agreed with Mrs Rudd becoming clear.
The uniform was not that dissimilar to the dress that Mrs Rudd had provided her with on her arrival. High buttoned collar with white lace trim as with the cuffs. The petticoat however, multi layered and a little more cumbersome and of course the long bibbed lace trimmed apron. Elizabeth pushed her head through the yolk of the apron and wrapped a bow behind her. Her shoes, where were they? The shoes she had been wearing had gone, replaced by even sturdier boots, nothing shoe like about these. Laced above her ankles Elizabeth stood by the vanity and giggled pinning her lacy cap in her hair. Smoothing down her skirts and apron Elizabeth slipped the papers Mrs Rudd had left with her into the pocket of her Apron and headed down to the kitchen.
Elizabeth entered the steam filled kitchen and Mrs Rudd was waiting putting Elizabeth straight to work. A box of cutlery and places laid, serviettes folded and placed, mixing then stirring the bubbling pan of porridge, then bacon, toast, eggs the plates warmed, an urn of tea brewed then up to the dining room to serve. Mrs Rudd was relentless barking her instructions. The service over, the plates collected then to the sink, washing, draining then drying, pans, plates, cups, saucers, and cutlery.
All stacked away Elizabeth gave a sigh wiping her hands in her stained apron and as she sat to rest Mrs Rudd approached.
“Very good Elizabeth, what a good maid you make.”
“Did you sign the forms by the way I wouldn’t want anything to happen and you were not protected”
Elizabeth reached into the pocket of her apron and removed the papers.
“I didn’t have time to read through them, can we do that later.”
Mrs Rudd took the papers put a pen in Elizabeth’s hand and smiled laying out the forms on the worktop.
“No time like the present, like I said it’s something all my maids sign.”
Elizabeth, being a Barrister, was reluctant to sign anything, especially without reading the terms thoroughly. Having read through the forms a number of times, they were straightforward enough a simple disclaimer for insurance, nothing more and Elizabeth scribbled her signature on the two dotted lines pointed out by Mrs Rudd. The completed forms were folded away in Mrs Rudd’s possession.
The house fell silent when the shooting party left and headed out onto the moor, Mrs Rudd guiding Elizabeth to the main suites and telling her to change the linen in each. The first was a learning curve but by the twelfth Elizabeth was quite efficient and competent with the folded corners. She had to be, Mrs Rudd checking each one she did.
The shooting party returning from the moor Elizabeth was back in the kitchen preparing luncheon then serving table. Mrs Rudd had taken to calling Elizabeth, Lizzie not something Elizabeth welcomed but Mrs Rudd had explained that calling her Elizabeth didn’t really fit well with her being a maid and Elizabeth reluctantly accepted. Addressing Mrs Rudd as Mistress and having to curtsy to her was something else but by the end of the day it was becoming more natural.
The afternoon was spent in the laundry and Elizabeth, was already starting to regret having agreed to help Mrs Rudd by being one of her maid’s whilst Lord Carlisle and is party were staying at Craig Gowrie.
Dinner prepared and served, all the dishes, pans and plates washed, drained and stacked Elizabeth’s feet were aching, her back sore and her hands? Elizabeth looked at her reddened hands, from the washing soda, her chipped nails and scuffed knuckles.
Mrs Rudd entered the kitchen.
“Have you finished everything Lizzie?”
Elizabeth turned and instinctively curtsied.
Mrs Rudd chuckled under her breath seeing how, without thought, her maid Lizzie responded.
“Good girl, you have done well today you told me last night I would be surprised and I truly am you make the perfect maid, just perfect.”
The next day was no less intense and the day following and the day after that. During these days the professional barrister learned much about the life of a maid at Craig Gowrie, Mrs Rudd’s regime and her rules.
Much to her surprise Elizabeth had been introduced to the other maid’s as Lizzie. Maids were not allowed to converse with one another, in fact they did not speak at all which Elizabeth found very strange? Elizabeth, having agreed to be treated as the others, with no favouritism, had no choice but to comply. Two more days of her drudgery and it would be over, or so she thought.
Whilst changing linen in the guest suites Elizabeth saw the girl she had met and had witnessed being threatened with the strap by Mrs Rudd when she arrived at Craig Gowrie, the girl she was told was sick? When Elizabeth tried to speak with her the girl put her finger to her lips and shuffled away.
Elizabeth not seeing Mrs Rudd behind her at the end of the hallway called out
“Cathy, Cathy come back I thought you were sick, a virus, nice to see that you are well again?”
Cathy stood and looked toward Elizabeth, Mrs Rudd’s firm grip taking hold of Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“I am disappointed in you Lizzie disobeying my rules; you know that maid’s are not allowed to speak unless spoken to by a superior??”
Elizabeth half turned held in Mrs Rudd’s grasp a look of surprise on her face as Mrs Rudd continued
“Now I told you when you started as a maid here there would be no favouritism I need to keep discipline here at Craig Gowrie.”
Mrs Rudd moved her hand from Elizabeth’s shoulder taking hold of her ear, a deft practised twist making Elizabeth squeal.
“Stop that hurts, stop.”
Keeping a controlling hold of Elizabeth’s ear Mrs Rudd smiled at a trembling Cathy stood not many feet away fearing the same punishment that she knew was about to be administered to the new maid at Craig Gowrie, maid Lizzie.
Mrs Rudd smirked
“Don’t worry Cathy; it is Lizzie who is to be punished”
Pulled into one of the suites by her ear Elizabeth was helpless to resist being drawn over a bed chest, skirts raised, her bloomers drawn down, exposing her lily white buttocks, then slapped by Mrs Rudd’s strong hand. The first stinging slap and Elizabeth shrieked and wriggled she had never been slapped before.
Mrs Rudd raised her voice.
“I told you when you started as my maid.”
“That being a maid you must obey my rules.”
“Now tell me you will obey my rules Lizzie”
“Lizzie? Lizzie? Tell me now, tell me?”
Elizabeth had stopped wriggling the stinging slaps now finding numbed cheeks. Her mind was racing she was highly educated, a Barrister, a successful Barrister , a woman of substance yet here she was dressed in a maids uniform, her bloomers to the floor, her bottom exposed and being slapped by the head of Household at Craig Gowrie like a common maid?
Strange feelings of subjugation blocking any rational thought, dulling her pain, she should scream, shout, fight, and stop this ridiculous pantomime. But she didn’t, for some unknown and strange reason she did not want to???
Slap, Slap, Slap.
“Tell me girl will you obey my rules?”
Slap, Slap, Slap.
Elizabeth with warm tears rolling down her cheeks whimpered.
“Yes Mistress, Yes Mistress, I am sorry I will obey your rules, I will”
Mrs Rudd, her hand aching from her first excited punishment of her new maid chuckled
“Good, then no more of your insolence whilst you are in my service girl.”
Elizabeth stood and pulled her knickers up over her crimsoned tender cheeks and let her skirts fall.
Elizabeth was blushing, not from the ignominy of Mrs Rudd’s treatment of her but for her own feelings the feelings she had felt held prone and helpless, her bottom exposed, being slapped accepting being spanked for her trivial misdemeanour.
The rest of the day it was a contrite maid Lizzie that went about her duties, the softening glow of her buttocks reminding her of what she had experienced at the hands of Mrs Rudd. Why did she let her do that to her? Why didn’t she resist? Why did she just lay there and accept her spanking?
In the Kitchen preparing the evening meal for the shooting party Mrs Rudd stood close to her maid Lizzie. Close enough that Elizabeth could feel her warm breath on her neck.
“You were a naughty girl today Lizzie, a very naughty girl.”
Mrs Rudd’s menacing words making Elizabeth shiver a nervousness that did not go unnoticed by Mrs Rudd.
Mrs Rudd turned Elizabeth around to face her.
“You know I had to punish you like I did don’t you LIZZIE, discipline is everything, I could not show weakness, I could not let Cathy and the other maids see or know that you were being treated differently.”
Mrs Rudd was expecting a degree of protest, something, but nothing, Elizabeth just looked at Mrs Rudd curtsied and spoke meekly.
Mrs Rudd seeing Elizabeth’s reaction smiled and stroked her fingers through her maid’s hair.
“Off course there are other punishments for my maids, perhaps you will find out, will you be so understanding when you have to be punished again Lizzie?”
Not if but when? Elizabeth, her mind back to being spanked, looked at the tightening eyes of Mrs Rudd she could not help the words tripping from her lips
Mrs Rudd smiled and Elizabeth went back to peeling vegetables, what was happening to her, why was she behaving like this, like a maid, Elizabeth was Barrister not a house maid?
Dinner again served to the Lord and his party, the kitchen cleaned Elizabeth returned to her cramped room at the rear of the house and lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling, had she really let Mrs Rudd spank her bare ass? The remaining fading tenderness told her she had. One more day of service and she could return to being a guest at Craig Gowrie and with those thoughts her tired mind and body gave way to sleep.
It would be the last day of maid Lizzie’s service for Mrs Rudd and Lizzie dressed ready for her duties
Breakfasts having been prepared and served it was eight thirty and Elizabeth was in the laundry with Jenny, one of the established maids’, heaping linen into one of the large vats ready for soda and pummelling.
Mrs Rudd appeared through the steam.
“That will be the last of the laundry from the guest suites, once this is done go and help Cathy to finish off the cleaning then I will see you in the main hall Lizzie.”
It was just after two in the afternoon Angus helped Lord Carlisle and his party into their carriages and they were gone. Lizzie had tidied the last of the guest suits and made her way to the main hall to meet with Mrs Rudd, Mrs Rudd smiling as Elizabeth entered.
Mrs Rudd heaped praise on Elizabeth thanking her for helping out telling her what a good maid she had been, Mrs Rudd joking about having to punish Elizabeth just the once.
Strange but the hard physical work, of being a maid for the week, had a positive effect on Elizabeth, she had slept well, even in the rather uncomfortable bed; she had eaten well, very well, the exercise invigorating her.
Mrs Rudd had been tough on her, treating her like the other maid’s but she had complied and now with the praise from the head of household, Elizabeth felt vindicated for agreeing to help out as a maid and with Mrs Rudd telling her what a good maid she had been, engendered a warm feeling inside.
Mrs Rudd took Elizabeth’s arm
“The mail coach will be here in the morning and Angus will go with you to Dunockty, the nearest village, a treat for being such a good maid, then, if the weather clears during the week he plans to take you over the moors to see the Glen Gowrie eagles and perhaps catch sight of the stags, I am hoping Lord Carlisle and his party did not shoot them all?”
Whilst there was no obligation Elizabeth helped press the linen before returning to the Jameson suite. Her maid’s tunic and apron discarded she sat in the tub and reflected on an eventful week and thought of what Dunockty would be like? She was again feeling much more comfortable about being at Craig Gowrie.
With still no sign of the clothes she arrived in or her luggage. Elizabeth dressed back into what had been her day clothes, rather than her maid’s uniform and took breakfast, not preparing and serving but being served, which was a pleasant change.
Mrs Rudd entered and smiled.
“O’ dear no Elizabeth I think you will have to change, villagers in Dunockty don’t take kindly to strangers , best that you wear your maid’s uniform, seeing Angus with one of my maid’s won’t alarm them and take this basket dear.”
Elizabeth remembered how she was stared at on the train and accepted Mrs Rudd’s guidance.
The mail coach arrived and Angus unloaded sacks and boxes of provisions along with the mail before Elizabeth, dressed back in her maid’s uniform, boarded the carriage. The mail coach would be going to Dunockty to collect the village mail then returning via Craig Gowrie late in the day.
Angus said little during the journey and Elizabeth, comfortable in her maid’s uniform, having worn the same for the past week, sat and admired the scenery as the carriage rattled on its way. Dunockty was a small self contained village, most inhabitants related in some way or another, close knit and wary of outsiders. The coach pulled up outside the post office and Angus helped Elizabeth from the carriage handing her the basket that Mrs Rudd had given her.
Elizabeth excited by the prospect of exploring the village moved across the pavement towards the general store situated next to the post office until Angus grabbed her arm.
“No, best that you walk two steps behind me and remember you are a maid and don’t you speak to anyone.”
Elizabeth looked at Angus quizzically but did as she was told. In London she would browse the shops unhindered but this experience would be something completely different. Women in Dunockty were second class citizens and knew there place, a maid was even lower down the pecking order as Elizabeth was about to find out? Trooping behind Angus they entered the general store and Elizabeth stood silently whilst Angus made his purchases placing them in Elizabeth’s basket. The man behind the counter smiled and offered Elizabeth a sweet from a large jar. An unspoken and compelling gesture from Angus and Elizabeth meekly curtsied in gratitude.
Around the village, Angus made it plain, to those they encountered, that the girl with him was Lizzie a new maid at Glen Gowrie, this much to the frustration and annoyance of Elizabeth, but what could she do? What Elizabeth thought would be a pleasant time exploring the village was turning out to be no more than being displayed and treated as maid Lizzie.
Back at Craig Gowrie Mrs Rudd knew the purpose of Elizabeth’s visit to Dunockty, all her taken maid’s had made the journey once. Should they every think to leave Craig Gowrie the first place they would head for would be the nearest village, Dunockty. No matter how they tried to explain their situation they would be know has a Craig Gowrie maid and swiftly returned into the clutches of Mrs Rudd.
When Elizabeth eventually arrived back at Craig Gowrie she was seething so embarrassed by her day in the village. Made to feel worthless, curtsying to the traders, having to wait outside the public house whilst Angus took a dram, keeping her distance behind the strutting Angus, unable to say a word. The whole experience had been degrading and demeaning of course it was meant to be.
Stepping from the carriage Elizabeth was quickly into the house and seeing Mrs Rudd tossed the basket at her and let rip a tirade that echoed through the house then gathering up her skirts stormed up the stairway to her room.
Mrs Rudd rubbed her hands and smiled at a grinning Angus.
“Well done Angus this is working out perfectly, I will let her stew for a while.”
Elizabeth’s anger cooling the door opened, it was Mrs Rudd.
“Well Elizabeth I cannot believe your ingratitude, so ungrateful, Angus took you to the village, he did not have to?” “ He sheltered you from being abused by the villagers, they can be quite funny with strangers as I explained, I even organised for you to be one of my maids so they would not question you, then coming back here and insulting me like you did you should be ashamed of yourself.”
Mrs Rudd left and the way she had put things made Elizabeth think. Angus had made sure she was safe? She had been told the villagers could be hostile to her? Mrs Rudd had gone to the trouble of letting her dress as a maid to protect her from any abuse? Elizabeth was beginning to regret her outburst. How could she make it up to Mrs Rudd?
Dinner was a frosty affair with no conversation and this after having started to get on much better with Mrs Rudd.
Elizabeth, wanting to atone for her perceived ill judged tantrum, tried to engage with Mrs Rudd but there was no opportunity to apologise.
Two days past and it was eating away at Elizabeth she had to say something, had to do something to make things right.
It was Wednesday morning and Elizabeth was resolved to settle the matter seeking out Mrs Rudd.
“Mrs Rudd, Mrs Rudd a moment please?”
Mrs Rudd hid her smile with her curt reply, she knew what was coming, had planned for it and was ready.
“Yes what is it?”
Elizabeth contrite and awkward asked Mrs Rudd to sit.
“Mrs Rudd, look the other day, I am sorry, I was wrong, out of order behaving like that, shouting like I did, what you said afterwards, I am ashamed, I should not have insulted you like that. You did your best for me and I was ungrateful, I am sorry.”
Mrs Rudd sat looking at Elizabeth berating herself but said nothing. Elizabeth anxious to have her unconditional apology accepted continued.
“If there is anything I can do to make things right, just ask, anything.”
Mrs Rudd weakly smiled things could not have gone better and responded.
“Well that is good of you to apologise as you have, I was very upset and so was Angus after what we did for you.” “I accept your apology but let’s put this episode behind us and your suggestion of offering to do something, well if I think of something I will let you know.”
Elizabeth turned to leave content she had made amends when the scheming Mrs Rudd snagged her line to hook her pretty fish.
“Wait, wait there is something, no perhaps not, no forget it Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth turned back to Mrs Rudd.
“What, what is it, please tell me, anything, anything.”
Mrs Rudd stood from her seat.
“Well, Lady Fotheringham and some of her friends will be visiting Craig Gowrie at the end of the week, I was wondering if, no, no, it wouldn’t be right.”
Elizabeth anxious to know pressed Mrs Rudd.
“What, what is it please tell me?”
“If you need my room again, I wouldn’t mind.”
Mrs Rudd feigned a reluctance to continue but did
“When Lord Carlisle stayed, you were such a good help, the other girls really appreciated the extra pair of hands and of course so did I, and you were such a good maid.”
Mrs Rudd made a jovial reference to Elizabeth’s punishment for her Misdemeanour.
“And I only had to punish you once.”
Elizabeth could not prevent a slight blush remembering how Mrs Rudd had spanked her bare bottom. Reliving that experience should have been a red light but it wasn’t and she listened whilst Mrs Rudd continued.
“If you agree, you could be my maid again, only whilst Lady Fotheringham and her friends are staying at Craig Gowrie of course, they will be here for two weeks though, and that is why I am reluctant to ask.”
Elizabeth had said she would do anything to make amends and despite some reservation, two weeks of being a maid again for Mrs Rudd was quite some time, Elizabeth however was somewhat obliged to agree. Of course Mrs Rudd knew she was and continued.
“Well what do say are you ready to be one off my maids again.......? LIZZIE?”
Elizabeth looked at Mrs Rudd knowing that she would have to conform to Mrs Rudd’s rules again if she agreed but acquiesced and smiled.
“Yes I will do it Mrs Rudd, I will do it, it’s the least I can do.”
Mrs Rudd had already written to Earl Radford, even before she had enticed Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones to be her maid for the second time, confirming that matters progressed for the new maid at Craig Gowrie. Mrs Rudd asking that the trunks that Earl Radford had intercepted, containing all Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones’s clothes, could now be forwarded.
Sunday evening soon came around and Elizabeth was back in the cramped room at the back of the house, suspended from the rails of her closet a row of fresh maid's uniforms and the drawers filled with her underwear, all the clothing slightly baggier than before.
Mrs Rudd entered and smiled.
Mrs Rudd chuckled.
“Not Maid Lizzie until the morning dear.”
“Elizabeth something I have been meaning to say to you, whilst you were my maid last time, I didn’t say anything but, your jewellery dear, not really what a maid wears or possesses?”
“Could you give it to me and I will keep it, put it into the safe, save you by habit or being forgetful putting those lovely earrings in or that necklace on and your rings dear better have those as well?”
It seemed logical and Elizabeth gathered up her jewellery and placed it into the small bag that Mrs Rudd had with her.
Mrs Rudd was not finished.
“Seeing that I will be putting this into the safe, what about your other valuables, your purse anything that’s important, keep it all together.”
Again logical, Elizabeth wouldn’t need anything whilst she was Mrs Rudd’s maid Lizzie.
Gathering everything together she gave it to a smiling Mrs Rudd.
“That bag needs to be kept safe, the return tickets to London are in my purse, and heaven knows how I would get back without those?”
Mrs Rudd smiled.
“Indeed Elizabeth a point well made.”
Lady Fotheringham duly arrived with her friends dressed in their finery and the curtsying maid to greet them? Maid Lizzie.
Lizzie helped the ladies to their guest suits and hauled their luggage. As instructed, Lizzie hung their fine garments in their closets and was rather wistful feeling the delicate fabrics in her fingers, especially the silk underwear, quite a contrast to the ill fitting garb she was wearing. Working in the last guest suite Mrs Rudd interrupted her.
“Lizzie, those forms you signed last time remember?” “I have drawn up another set for you, same as last time, but you can read through them if you wish.”
Of course they weren’t the same as last time at all, Elizabeth would be finding that out later. Lizzie busy and a little flustered paid little heed, she had scrutinised the forms previously, straight forward enough and laying one of the ladies garments on the bed scribbled her signature.
Mrs Rudd smiled.
“And can you sign this as well; this one needs to be signed in your maid’s name, Lizzie, if you don’t mind.”
Lizzie duly obliged and went about hanging the lovely dresses on the closet rail.
The lady guests sat and chatted, giggled and laughed. Many of the conversations and the subjects they discussed were familiar to Lizzie and she had to wrestle with her instincts not to join in, how could she, she was just a maid? Over the first few days their comments to Lizzie were condescending and trite belittling her as the occasions presented themselves, and there were many. Back in London Elizabeth had known such women, socialised with them, represented them, but now, as Lizzie the maid, she had a growing contempt for them. But with little choice, forcing her smile, Lizzie went about her duties under the watchful eye of Mrs Rudd.
A trivial complaint about how the bed had been turned down for one of the ladies led to Lizzie being admonished in front of them all at Breakfast the following day. Mrs Rudd’s words angry and cutting telling the ladies that Lizzie was one of her new maid’s and that she would be punished. Lizzie blushed and stood silent, in part the embarrassment but, also hearing the word punishment, knew what was to come.
Lizzie did not have to wait long and the yelps and the sound of flesh slapping flesh, coming from the kitchen, amused the ladies finishing their breakfast. Lizzie’s punishment administered Mrs Rudd reminded a tearful Lizzie that she had other punishments and, being treated like all the other maids she would not hold back from punishing Lizzie accordingly. After her spanking Lizzie cleared table humiliated by the giggling of the ladies who were in full knowledge of what she had been subjected to.
Her previous experience, of being one of Mrs Rudd’s maid’s, Lizzie knew the routines and had settled back into them within the first three days. Kept busy and constantly paying deference and curtsying not only to Mrs Rudd but also to the high born lady guest’s, Lizzie’s mind was being saturated by her constant humbling servility. Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones being temporarily buried into her subconscious, her thoughts swamped by her duties, the duties of Lizzie the maid.
At first, when Lady Fotheringham and her guests arrived she saw much of herself in them but that had subtly changed, she had become used to their condescending attitude and indifference towards her, she no longer viewed them as her equals they were ladies and she was their maid and she had to treat them accordingly.
Mrs Rudd was much stricter with her maid Lizzie than on the previous donning of the Craig Gowrie maids Livery by Elizabeth. The combination of, her growing contempt for the lady guests,, the strict discipline meted out by the head of household and being constantly attentive and servile to the needs of the guests, Lizzie was becoming increasingly pensive, nervous and unsure. Not the characteristics of a successful barrister at all, but Lizzie wasn’t a Barrister, was she, she was a maid?
Mrs Rudd was happy to see this change developing in her maid Lizzie who was becoming ever more vulnerable to Mrs Rudd’s persuasive, devious skills. Praise and public admonishment given in equal measure Lizzie had graduated to the strap from her spankings and humbly received and accepted what she was given, she had no choice did she, discipline had to be maintained?
By the end of the week the confusion that festered in Lizzie’s mind was taking its toll, forgetful, negligent easy pickings for the head of household who continually lavished criticism on her hapless maid.
Lizzie’s timid negligence, whilst laying fires in two of the guest suites, resulted in coals and ash being left to stain the carpets. With her bare bottom exposed, knickers around her ankles she was strapped and chastised whilst she crawled about the floor scrubbing the carpets clean on her hands and knees.
That night Lizzie cried herself to sleep, this could not continue, she was on the verge of losing her mind at the hands of the relentless Mrs Rudd.
Mrs Rudd knew just when to push and when to pull back and found Elizabeth feeling sorry for herself in her room.
“Lizzie, I have good news for you, your trunks have been located and are being sent on to us here at Craig Gowrie.” When Lady Fotheringham and her friends leave you will have your full wardrobe to wear.”
Elizabeth took solace in this crumb of comfort, something to look forward to, and something to help her through her days of gruelling service.
The next few days were uneventful Lizzie working hard to accomplish the tasks given her, Mrs Rudd had purposely softened her approach and Lizzie was regaining her confidence.
The mind can be a selective and protective tool and Lizzie reconciled that her treatment had been due to her own misgivings, she knew the rules and she should adhere to them like the other maids at Craig Gowrie. Yes, it was strange but Lizzie was beginning to see herself not as a guest, but as one of them, one of Mrs Rudd’s maid’s. She even chuckled to herself realising that this concept was even in her thoughts.
Lady Fotheringham and her friends, having enjoyed their time at Glen Gowrie, invited themselves for a further week and Mrs Rudd told Lizzie to meet with her in the main hall.
Lizzie entered and what now was second nature curtsied.
“Mistress, you summoned me?”
“Yes I did Lizzie; straighten your cap dear that is very off putting.
Lizzie’s reaction was immediate.
“Sorry Mistress, yes Mistress, is that right Mistress?”
Mrs Rudd smiled at Lizzie’s unquestioning obedience and compliance, it would not be long now before Elizabeth’s total subjugation, and Mrs Rudd sensed it.
“I want to ask you a question Lizzie, and I want you to answer it truthfully, are you happy to be one of my maid’s?”
There was some hesitation before Lizzie replied; she had been in the role of one of Miss Rudd’s maid’s for a full two weeks along with the initial week of serving Lord Carlisle. Three of her five weeks at Craig Gowrie having been in service she had become accustomed to the duties, she had been punished of course she had, but it had been her own fault though hadn’t it? Was she happy she thought? She had not been unhappy apart from the one night following the fires incident? But she deserved the strapping didn’t she? The life of a Barrister was based on making decisions always in control decisions, decisions. The life of a maid was simple no decisions to make, told what to do, when to do it, how to do it. Was it this drawing her deeper under Mrs Rudd’s control of her? Was she aware of what was happening to her?
“Mistress, I am not unhappy so yes Mistress I guess I am happy?”
Miss Rudd smiled.
“Good, I am glad; you are a good maid Lizzie.” “I know these last two weeks must have been difficult for you, Lady Fotheringham and her ladies, seeing them in their fine clothes and expensive jewellery like you USED to wear when you WERE a Barrister.” “Serving them, at their beck and call, seeing them as your superiors, how did that make you feel Lizzie, feel free to tell me it will go no further?”
Lizzie did not question Miss Rudd’s reference to the past tense with regard to her clothes or her profession, much to Mrs Rudd’s delight.
“Mistress, at first I was upset, annoyed, angry, jealous, regretting agreeing to be one of your maid’s again but......but then.....”
Lizzie looked at Mrs Rudd.
“But then it was strange, I wanted to please them, please you, I accepted my place, my place as your maid.”
Mrs Rudd smiled.
“And do you still feel that way Lizzie?”
Lizzie looked into Mrs Rudd’s searching eyes she could not lie.
“Yes Mistress, yes Mistress I do.”
Mrs Rudd sat back.
“So if I told you Lady Fotheringham and her friends were staying on at Craig Gowrie you would be willing to continue in your service as one of my maid’s?”
Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones should have screamed from the roof tops No! No! No! But that successful Barrister was not on watch, she was lingering somewhere in Lizzie’s sub conscious, driven into hibernation by Mrs Rudd’s skilful scheming and manipulation.
Elizabeth was aware that the travel trunks containing her clothes would soon be at Craig Gowrie and that when Lady Fotheringham did depart she would be able to dress properly in her own fine clothes and stroll around the house being served as the guest she rightfully was. What were a few more days, why not she thought?
Her mind filled with the thoughts of her trunks arriving at Craig Gowrie, Elizabeth smiled as if she had been offered an opportunity, not a sentence of drudgery and responded with a slight overt hint of enthusiasm.
“Yes Mistress, if it pleases you Mistress.”
Mrs Rudd spoke quietly
“Yes it does please me Lizzie I am sure another week in my service will see you no different than my other maid’s, fully competent in your duties, let’s make that our goal shall we.”
“Now I have something here, something to help to achieve that goal, a present if you will.”
Mrs Rudd opened her drawer and removed a braided steel wire cord a pop seal lock on each end, a small golden disc swinging at its centre and smiled laying it on the table.
“Do you recognise this Lizzie?”
Lizzie did recognise it all the maids had one of them
“Yes Mistress, your maids wear them, they all have one.”
Miss Rudd toyed with the cord in her fingers.
“Would Lizzie want one, to be like my other maids, a reward for being such a good maid?”
Turning the disc, fixed to the steel cord Mrs Rudd revealed the name Lizzie stamped into the back.
“It’s yours Lizzie if you want it; just clip it around your neck, a pretty necklace to wear?”
Lizzie reached for the strong cabled wire cord, heavier than she thought and inspected the pop lock clasps. Lizzie not seeing the stout necklace for what it was, a collar of ownership, she viewed it with a degree of pride. Mrs Rudd was rewarding her for being a good maid, she had gone to all this trouble, even having her maid’s name embossed into the disc, Lizzie could not reject such a generous token of Mrs Rudd’s appreciation, could she?
“Just push these together Mistress.”
Mrs Rudd smiled.
“That’s right Lizzie just push them together.”
Mrs Rudd’s eyes swelled hearing the click of the one way push lock and chuckled seeing the collar swinging around Lizzie’s neck.
Whilst Lizzie was preparing vegetables for the day’s meals in the kitchen Jennie, working alongside her, saw the collar that Lizzie was now wearing and touching the disc frowned at Lizzie. Whilst desperate to speak, to warn her, tell her get away from Craig Gowrie, well she still could, she could not. Lizzie passed off Jenny’s expression assuming that she was just jealous that Lizzie now had a collar like her own well worn trinket.
Kept busy with her maid duties Elizabeth had had little thought of her career in London and in many respects was becoming more Lizzie than Elizabeth?
When Earl Radford had offered the use of his estate to Elizabeth he asked her to keep it quiet on the pretence that others may hound him for a similar treat. Elizabeth had been good to her word and said nothing of where she was going. That is except for the letter she sent to Georgina, her friend. Georgina who was now on the arm of Earl Radford, given his preoccupation with Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones seemed to have faded.
Georgina, unlike Elizabeth and being more in line with her gender of the age seeking a good marriage above all else. Georgina had always been in the intellectual shadow of Elizabeth, Elizabeth the pretty and successful barrister career girl, Georgina a little ditzy happy in her traditional girly role. With Elizabeth’s continuing success, whilst still friends, their relationship had drifted a little, Georgina becoming increasingly jealous of Elizabeth’s elevated position. Having won the affections of Earl Radford, over Elizabeth, Georgina felt quite smug. If she eventually married Earl Radford she would be the superior one in her relationship with Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones.
Back in London Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones’s fellow barristers had been told by Earl Radford that Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones had taken up with some guy or other, turned her back on her career for love. This just fuelled their already established prejudice of the times of a woman working in a man’s domain. The common opinion being that it was typical of a woman, that’s why they shouldn’t be involved in the first place better they stick to having babies, looking pretty and keeping house.
Elizabeth’s workload and clients at the practise having been spread throughout the chambers, no one really cared about Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones’s leaving her successful career and comfortable life in the city. Earl Radford convinced them of her well being informing them that he had received a letter explaining that she was fine and preparing for her new life away from the law.
The part regarding the letter was true of course and Earl Radford smiled reading the letter from his head of household at his Craig Gowrie estate. The letter confirming that his plans for his latest maid progressed well.
Earl Radford aware that, an old friend from his days at Eton school, Sir Paul Bannerman, also a barrister, had been made to look ridiculous in court, by a well prepared Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones, during a recent case, would be invited to join him when he next travelled north.
Earl Radford rocked back in his large sumptuous red leather chair blowing a smoke ring from his cigar and reflected on the other girls he had successfully spirited away.
The Socialite, Catherine Tweedale who ridiculed the size of his penis and threatened to broadcast the fact. Lady Madeline Hawksmere, the girl who had convinced her banking father to withdraw an investment loan, when he refused to marry her. Jennifer Danesbride, the Marquis of Denbigh’s daughter the girl who thought blocking his selection for a parliamentary seat was funny. All now tricked, trapped and willingly accepting their lives as maids at Craig Gowrie and the successful barrister Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones, who had spurned his advances and blocked his career path with her brilliance, would be suffering the same fate.
Lady Fotheringham and her friends continued to enjoy the luxuries of Craig Gowrie, maid Lizzie and her fellow maids ever present to serve their needs under the harsh control of head of household Mrs Rudd.
Wednesday and Lizzie and Cathy were again in the laundry heaping linen into the large vats for washing. Lizzie mistakenly added too much brightener to the wash, which reacted with the soda, and covered the sheets in blue stains. Cathy tried to help but it was hopeless the whole wash was ruined.
Mrs Rudd made her way through the steam filled laundry to inspect what Lizzie had done. Seeing the ruined linen she was angry, very angry but this was the opportunity she had been waiting for.
Lizzie started to reason with Mrs Rudd, a big mistake and she should have known better, maids never confront or seek to argue with their Mistress.
“Mistress I can explain the box, the box with the brightener it was wet, the bottom of the box was wet it just fell in, ask Cathy, I couldn’t help it.”
Mrs Rudd, her face red with rage having a maid speaking to her as if an equal grabbed Lizzie’s ear. Chastised and berated by Mrs Rudd as they went, Lizzie was led out of the laundry, and sat onto a wooden stool in the centre of the kitchen.
Lizzie’s nerves were jangling, Mrs Rudd, having brought the other maids into the Kitchen, stood and glared at Lizzie. Lizzie knew she was to be punished, for ruining the sheets, but what punishment will it be? Why were the other maids here?
Mrs Rudd flicked the disc on Lizzie’s secure collar.
“That was supposed to help you be a better maid, but no, no you need more to remind you that you are my maid don’t you.”
“ Not only have you destroyed that fine linen you have disobeyed my rules again this morning, questioning me in front of Cathy here, questioning the head of household, your mistress, now that cannot go unpunished can it girl?”
Lizzie’s eyes lowered to the floor, Mrs Rudd was right, she had disobeyed the rules and she deserved to be punished and responded accordingly.
Before the punishment began Mrs Rudd cynically asked maid Lizzie if she accepted her punishment.
Elizabeth looked at the faces of the maid’s stood around her, she had to support Mrs Rudd, she would be gone soon but the household discipline would have to be maintained, she misguidedly understood that. A few strokes of a strap would soon be over and answered in the positive, although suspecting the strap unaware what her punishment was actually to be.
Mrs Rudd rocked back on her heels
“Good and punished you will be girl.”
Without another word Mrs Rudd removed Elizabeth’s lacy cap and ran her fingers through the long strands of blonde hair and with delicate precision lopped off a large tress of Lizzie’s hair.
Elizabeth squealed seeing the large lock of hair drift to the floor and tried to stand but a firm grip of her neck held her in place. The shears worked quickly until nothing but tufts remained, tears rolled down Elizabeth’s cheeks although not fully aware of the savagery of the cut. A lather dispensed a honed razor removed what remained of Elizabeth’s locks then a stunting fluid applied to her bald pate. A shorn Elizabeth gazed at the three girls staring back at her noticing each shared the same hair, colour and style beneath their lacy caps.
Mrs Rudd clapped her hands and told the girls to remove their caps. Elizabeth’s eyes went wide seeing each remove their caps and wigs, each maid bald like she now was. Elizabeth turned to a scowling Mrs Rudd who had placed one hand on her shoulder and in the other hand offering her maid Lizzie her own wig and cap.
“You asked for the punishment and you have received it as all my maids have. You will now wear this style like all the maids in service at Craig Gowrie.”
Lizzie sat quivering and in a daze took the short black wig and cap from Mrs Rudd and worked it onto her shiny scalp. What had she let Mrs Rudd do to her? Lizzie was in a state of shock staring at her hacked luscious, long blonde locks strewn across the floor at her feet.
Mrs Rudd dragged a stunned Lizzie to her feet and pointed to the roaring fire in the corner of the kitchen.
“Now sweep up that mess and put it into the fire.”
A distraught, weeping Lizzie gathered up her shorn hair from the flagged floor and tossed it into the flames watching the last strand of her long blonde locks sizzle to ash.
Lizzie looked at the red faced Mrs Rudd, still in shock and disbelief at what had been done to her, and then, gathering up her skirts and apron, dashed from the kitchen to her room in a flood of tears.
Mrs Rudd let Lizzie simmer in her room for a while then entered to see Lizzie lay on the bed, her head pushed under and covered by the pillow, her shoulders shaking from her sobs.
Mrs Rudd sat on the edge of the bed prepared for her deceit and spoke in a soft unfamiliar contrite, comforting tone.
“Lizzie I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I really don’t, it was like a red mist, please forgive me. The sheets, they were sea Island cotton, the finest, they cost a third of my annual housekeeping allowance, I was furious, out of control, you must have seen that?”
“I saw you, your maid’s uniform, your collar, you started to argue. I forget who you really were?”
“Lizzie I feel awful, if I could undo what I have done I would”
Elizabeth pulled the pillow from over her head and straightened her wig and lacy cap and looked at Mrs Rudd. She had listened to many a guilty defendant plead their innocence but not even the accomplished barrister saw though Mrs Rudd’s duplicitous pleadings.
Mrs Rudd leaned forward and gently wiped drying tears from under Lizzie’s reddened puffy eyes.
“I really am sorry Lizzie and what is done is done I realise that, but it will grow back, won’t it?”
Of course Elizabeth’s hair will never grow back, just like the other maids, she will remain bald, the stunting balm applied ensuring that. An absolute disaster for the Barrister Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones but for a maid, a maid in service at Craig Gowrie a maid like Lizzie, it was a prerequisite.
Lizzie pushed herself up at the end of the bed still on the edge of tears.”
“I cannot believe you did this to me, I just can’t, how can I go back to London like this, I can’t.”
“But, what you just said, I am sorry for ruining the linen and understand, with it being so expensive, you were furious, but this shaving my head, like you did.”
Lizzie, her eyes now pleading, took hold of Mrs Rudd’s hands
“But it will grow back, not like your other maid’s promise me it will grow back.”
Mrs Rudd relaxed a little her comforting lies continuing.
“Why of course dear, my maids have kept their heads like that, so easy to manage for them, it is their choice.”
Lizzie choked back her tears in acceptance that there was nothing she could do but accept what had happened and Mrs Rudd’s explanation and apology was genuine wasn’t it?
“I look just like them now don’t I, the others, Jennie, Cathy and Maddie, my hair, well my wig, short , black, neat, just like theirs?”
Mrs Rudd smiled having diffused her maid Lizzie’s anger.
“Well yes, I think you do.”
Mrs Rudd continued.
“Peas in a pod my pretty maid’s all in a row.”
This little rhyme brought a smile to Lizzie’s face.
“Peas in a pod yes I guess we are now.”
Mrs Rudd stood from the bed smiled and poured in some good old fashioned flattery.
“If is any consolation at all, I like your hair in that style, it really suits you, perhaps something to consider when your hair grows back?
“Anyway you will be pleased to know that your trunks arrived today hopefully that will make you feel better?”
“Why don’t we go down to my quarters later, you can try on some of those fine clothes of yours it will cheer you up.”
During the weeks of her stay at Craig Gowrie Elizabeth had not held back on the calories from the generous portions she had consumed and, with the ill fitting and generous cut of the maid’s dresses she had been wearing, the pounds she had gradually piled on had practically gone unnoticed.
Down in Mrs Rudd’s living quarters , aware of what was about to transpire, Mrs Rudd helped Elizabeth from her maids dress then left Elizabeth to try on some of her things.
An hour later, when Mrs Rudd returned, she found a distraught and naked Elizabeth surrounded by scattered clothing the seams of some dresses obviously stretched some busted. The laces of corsets opened wide. Beautiful underwear tossed randomly across the floor.
Elizabeth, seeking comfort, stumbled towards Mrs Rudd who embraced her sobbing maid, Elizabeth speaking between her sobs.
“Nothing fits, nothing, my dresses are all too tight.”
Elizabeth held up a particular delicate looking dress its lace sleeves stretched and torn.
“I cannot even get my fat arms into the sleeves of this, one of my favourites.”
Just has Mrs Rudd had intended the trying on of the clothes, that had been cleverly tailored back in London for a fit to Mrs Rudd’s waspish figure, was a disaster for Elizabeth. When she arrived at Craig Gowrie Elizabeth’s figure was very much similar to that of Mrs Rudd’s but no longer. Her general appetite and comfort eating, during her six weeks at Craig Gowrie, had swelled her waist and hips.
Elizabeth’s confidence had been shattered, by the humiliation of being shaved bald, now that she could not fit into her clothes she was at her lowest ebb sobbing uncontrollably.
Mrs Rudd, hiding her pleasure comforted a shaking Elizabeth.
“There, there, dear, don’t get to upset they are only clothes, you have put a little weight on whilst you have been here that’s all.” “I am sure you will regain your figure and we can always adjust the fitting.”
“It is not like you need them right away is it, being one of my maid’s?” “Let me help you put these things back in your trunks”
Elizabeth managed to control her weeping but not her disgust at herself. How could she have let herself go like this, not a stitch to wear, of the entire wardrobe she had planned to wear nothing save her shoes fitted her. With all the garments neatly folded and replaced in the trunks, in a fit of emotional pique, Elizabeth turned to Mrs Rudd with a rant.
“I hate myself, I hate my clothes, they will never fit me, you might as well have them, keep them, I don’t want them.”
Mrs Rudd had already picked her favourites whilst folding the dresses away and could not wait to try them on but maintained her sympathetic persona.
“Don’t be silly, they are yours Lizzie, let’s get you dressed you will feel different tomorrow.”
Mrs Rudd helped Lizzie back into her plain cotton underwear, her shapeless maid’s dress and bibbed apron and smiled Lizzie’s corpulent figure, once again cocooned and shrouded within the vestige of her status, that of a Craig Gowrie maid.
“Why don’t you go to your room for a while we will be preparing Luncheon in an hour come down then, when you are ready.”
Elizabeth, still close to tears, actually thanked Mrs Rudd for her efforts and apologised for her tantrum.
“Yes Mistress, thank you Mistress”
Lady Fotheringham and her friends would be leaving at the end of the week and Elizabeth was deep in thought, what could she do? Without the maid’s neat short, black, bob wig she was bald, shiny scalped bald. She would look ridiculous and she should be returning to London after Lady Fotheringham had departed with her snooty friends. She could not travel like this? And clothes, what on earth could she wear? None of her clothes fitted her?
She need not have worried over such things Mrs Rudd having already prepared plans for maid Lizzie a proposition Elizabeth would find hard to resist.
Lady Fotheringham and her friends would be leaving Craig Gowrie but, swiftly on their heels would be yet another visiting group, another shooting party, the mixed group of husbands and their wife’s from Norfolk booked for a two week stay. Earl Radford ensuring that a continual flow of visitors would be descending on Craig Gowrie occupying all the guest suites.
After serving dinner and cleaning the kitchen on the eve of Lady Fotheringham’s departure Lizzie sought out Mrs Rudd and found her in the main hall
A curtsy as she approached Mrs Rudd sat at her desk working on the accounts.
Mrs Rudd looked up from her desk.
“Lizzie? What do you want girl, I am rather busy as you can see.”
Elizabeth stuttered a little at first but found the confidence to speak.
“Mistress, Lady Fotheringham will be leaving tomorrow and I had planned to return to London this weekend.”
Elizabeth shyly removed her cap and wig a slight blush creeping into her cheeks.
“My hair Mistress, or the lack of it, I can’t go back to London like this I just can’t and clothes I have nothing that fits me.”
Mrs Rudd forced a look of concern.
“But if you don’t return to London, what, you wish to stay on here at Craig Gowrie?”
Elizabeth whilst desperate to return to her comfortable life in London could see no alternative.
“Well, yes, yes I would.”
Mrs Rudd pondered.
“But, well that will be difficult, I have Earl Radford’s guests from Norfolk arriving the day after next, they will be taking all the guest suites.”
“How long are you thinking of extending your stay, you have been here now over six weeks.”
Elizabeth, her mind full of imagining’s of the ridicule she could face, the embarrassment of having to explain how she came to have her head shorn. She could not go back to London, not yet, not like this.
It was a timid and pleading maid Lizzie not the confident Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones that had arrived at Craig Gowrie that replied.
“Please Mistress, I don’t know how long, and I can stay in the reception room, the room I have been using, I won’t mind that?”
Elizabeth had not considered or even contemplated, in her request, that if she extended her stay at Craig Gowrie, she would remain in the service of Miss Rudd as maid Lizzie.
Mrs Rudd put down her pen and let her concerned look drift into a half smile.
“Well it was partly my fault that you agreed to have your head shaved and yes, even with a bonnet, and you could not keep that on all the time, your baldness would be exposed.” “And clothes yes only your maid’s uniform is a comfortable fit.”
Mrs Rudd stood slowly letting her last statement sink into Elizabeth’s questioning confused mind. Partly, Miss Rudd’s fault then it was mainly her own fault? Well she did ruin the sheets? She had agreed to be punished, not knowing her head would be shaved, but she had agreed. So in effect it was her fault? Her clothes, they did not fit because she had over indulged herself with the rich food and it was true the only clothes that did fit her were her maid’s uniforms.
Mrs Rudd continued
“I can understand that being embarrassing for you, without that nice wig you can wear here as one of my maid’s.” I take it you would want to keep the wig you are wearing and your uniform, to continue in my service as one of my maid’s?”
The manipulative Mrs Rudd was about to have the successful barrister, as was, Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones, practically begging to remain at Craig Gowrie has one of her maids.”
Elizabeth shuffled her feet, fingers toying in her apron nervously becoming resigned that she would be agreeing to remain one of Mrs Rudd’s maid’s for another two weeks at least. This after what had been done to her hair? What else could be in store for if she agreed. Elizabeth’s mind churned.
What else realistically could happen to her? She had worn the maid’s uniform, had her bare buttocks slapped spanked and strapped, worn the pretty necklace with her maid’s name embossed on it, an adornment she had been unable to remove. She had been strapped chastised and admonished in front of Lady Fotheringham and her friends and then having her head shaved and wigged to the same style has Mrs Rudd’s other maid’s . Indeed what else could be worse than what she had already experienced?
Elizabeth looked forlornly at Mrs Rudd resigned that she had one option and begrudgingly agreed.
“Yes Mistress to remain here at Craig Gowrie as one of your maid’s if I must?”
Mrs Rudd wanted a little more than that from Lizzie.
“Mmmmmmm, if you must; now that doesn’t sound very convincing to me Lizzie?” “You know how strict I can be, if you have doubt’s, cannot fully commit to continuing as one of my maid’s, then perhaps it is best you leave, go back to London at the weekend.”
Elizabeth fearing she would be making her journey south with her baldness on display and wearing who knows what pleads with Mrs Rudd.
“No, no, sorry I did not want to give that impression Mistress, I will be glad to continue being one of your maids, you told me I was a good maid, I am a good maid, I know all the duties here at Craig Gowrie, please let me stay.”
Elizabeth drops a curtsy.
Mrs Rudd hides her satisfaction Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones begging to be one of her maid’s
“Well you know what I expect from my maid’s Lizzie so let us start with another two weeks but be warned, no more excuses, I now expect the same standards as my other maid’s or .... Well let us hope you do not have to find out.”
“Yes Mistress Thank you Mistress.”
Elizabeth, pleased that she will be able to hide her embarrassment in the anonymity of Maid Lizzie, in the secluded remoteness of Craig Gowrie, turns and makes her way back to her room.
Elizabeth sat under the flickering gas light in her room and penned another letter, another two letters, one to Georgina, her friend and one to Earl Radford. Elizabeth had written most weeks to Georgina letting her know things were fine and that she was enjoying her time in the remoteness of Craig Gowrie but looking forward to her return to London. None of her previous letters having mentioned her time helping out Mrs Rudd, being her maid, this letter was no different but explaining she would be staying on a little longer at Craig Gowrie. The letter to Earl Radford, the first to him, confirming that she wished to stay at Craig Gowrie a little longer in that she was enjoying it so much, although she could not give him the real reason why, how could she??
As with her previous mail Elizabeth passed the letters to Mrs Rudd and Mrs Rudd duly put them with Elizabeth’s other correspondence in the back of the safe, none had ever been posted.
Lady Fotheringham departed with her friends late in the morning and Lizzie, having changed all the linen in the guest suites, was summoned by Mrs Rudd to her apartments. Lizzie knocked on the door and waited smoothing down her apron and straightening her lacy cap.
The door opened and Lizzie stood back staring at Mrs Rudd in her underwear, not Mrs Rudd’s underwear but Elizabeth’s fine silk underwear, Elizabeth recognising the twin embroidered roses on the bodice of the corset the pale blue silk trimming ribbons to the waist and legs of her slinky knickers. Mrs Rudd holding in her arms one of Elizabeth’s ornately delicately trimmed petticoats.
Mrs Rudd smiled seeing the expression on her maid Lizzie’s face.
“Don’t stare that’s rude come in I need your help with something.”
Lizzie entered the room in a daze her trunks opened and the clothes sorted into piles on the furniture around the room.
As Lizzie surveyed her clothing, laid out on display, Mrs Rudd let the petticoat she had been holding shimmer and cascade over her.
Lizzie looked at Mrs Rudd questioningly and Mrs Rudd responded to Lizzie’s unspoken inquiry.
“What? What? You said I could have these clothes, I thought you would be taking them back to London and declined your offer but you are staying so, well you did say did you not that I could have them?”
Lizzie remembered her rant, cursing her clothes telling Mrs Rudd she could keep them.
Mrs Rudd strode towards Lizzie the scent of Elizabeth’s own expensive perfume that Mrs Rudd now wore wafted with her.
“But what, did you or did you not say I could have these clothes and the contents of these trunks yes or no?”
Lizzie lowered her head in acceptance, what could she say, she had said those very words, they did not fit her, they were of no use her? In her temper and tantrum she had given them all away.
“Yes Mistress, yes I did say you could have them Mistress”
Mrs Rudd had expected some protest especially with wearing the perfume but none came from the lips of her subjugated maid.
“Good now I needed you here to help me pick a dress for today I like this one what do you think?
Mrs Rudd pointed to the dress that Elizabeth had shown her to be one of her own favourites.
Lizzie forced back tears.
“Yes Mistress very nice,”
Mrs Rudd then had Lizzie help her into the beautiful dress, the same dress Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones had worn to the Barristers annual awards ceremony only two month before accepting Earl Radford’s invitation to visit Craig Gowrie.
Elizabeth’s spirit all but broken Mrs Rudd continued her humiliation of her maid picking two sparking earring’s from the bag of jewellery that Elizabeth had handed into her stewardship.
“I think these will go well don’t you Lizzie, your earrings, you don’t mind do you?” “You won’t be wearing any Jewellery has my maid will you, not for some time at least, a shame to have it hidden away.”
Elizabeth looked at Mrs Rudd her favourite dress fitting her like a glove, her earrings dangling and twinkling she looked stunning.
“And this matching necklace, you have my necklace don’t you Lizzie, a fair swap then, I shall wear this.”
Dismissed by a gloating Mrs Rudd, although she hid that well, Lizzie the maid shuffled back to her accommodation at the rear of the house. She had agreed another two weeks in the service of Mrs Rudd and was beginning to worry about her sanity. True, she had, in a fit of Pique turned her back on her beautiful clothes, offered them to Mrs Rudd, but the realisation of what she had done and actually helping Mrs Rudd to dress in her clothes, was hitting her hard.
Bald beneath her neat short black wig, wearing the maid’s uniform of Craig Gowrie, the only clothing that now fitted her, a non removable necklace with her maids name embossed on it swinging around her neck she felt, she felt just what Mrs Rudd had schemed to create from the Barrister Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones, a humble maid, the humble maid Lizzie.
The party from Norfolk duly arrived Mrs Rudd’s maid’s stood in line at the entrance to the house to greet them. Nothing to distinguish one from the other in their rank, like pea’s in a pod, Maid Cathy, Maid Jennie ,Maid Maddie and Maid Lizzie four pretty maids all in a row, neat uniforms , short black bob hair styles beneath lacy caps, identity collars around their necks. Each curtsied in turn has the new guests passed by them.
The first week passed, Lizzie determined to cut back on her intake of food, strive to get back her lithe figure and reclaim her wardrobe which Mrs Rudd flaunted in front of her, a different dress each day accessorised with jewellery of her choice. Sunday morning, sat at breakfast, a healthy plate in front of her Lizzie again made the same promise to herself before devouring all before her.
The second week saw more humiliation for maid Lizzie, Mrs Rudd having her stitch and repair the dresses she had tried to squeeze into before straining the seams and loosening buttons. With each garment repaired Mrs Rudd having Lizzie help dress her, seeking compliments on how well the dresses fitted her. Lizzie of course complying, with her accustomed curtsy, to these belittling requests, it wasn’t hard though the dresses did fit Mrs Rudd perfectly.
During the weeks of the Norfolk parties stay maid Lizzie had received the attentions and flattery of one particularly handsome gentleman. Perhaps it was the lack of affection over the time of her stay at Craig Gowrie, her loneliness, her reduced self worth, whatever it was she did not resist his seduction. On the Thursday evening her spread legs straddled the thighs and waist of the well endowed buck whilst he ploughed her in her room. Having been relentlessly taken, Geoffrey Willis stared down at his panting conquest, the Craig Gowrie maid Lizzie her legs spread, stains to the sheets and smiled. Soon dressed he was gone into the breaking dawn leaving Lizzie alone in the afterglow of his lust.
Stretched out naked on her bed hugging her pillow the door was flung open, the angry face of Mrs Rudd glaring at her.
“You whore, how dare you, you have disgraced yourself and Craig Gowrie with your fornication?”
Lizzie drew the sheets over her to cover her modesty but a furious Mrs Rudd quickly ripped them away again.
“Don’t try and cover your shame you harlot.”
Mrs Rudd had paid Geoffrey Willis handsomely for his pleasurable task of seducing and taking Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones in what she thought the sanctuary of her room in her own bed. Now Mrs Rudd was about to reinforce Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones’s hopelessness and her continued demise into the life of a Craig Gowrie maid.
“How could you prostitute yourself like a common whore here under Earl Radford’s roof you filthy dirty girl.”
Lizzie stared at the angry Mrs Rudd, what could she say? It was true, although in a moment of her weakness, she had behaved like a whore. In London a level of promiscuity was tolerated but here out in the sticks, Marriage was seen as a solemn prerequisite to any thoughts of carnal consummation.
A timid shamed Lizzie whimpered to Mrs Rudd.
“I, I, I am sorry.”
Mrs Rudd, her voice raised glared at her maid Lizzie.
“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry well that just is not good enough for the disgrace you have brought on Craig Gowrie. “You are to be punished tell me you deserve to be punished for your fornication.”
A trembling Lizzie meekly replied
“Yes Mistress I deserve to be punished.”
Mrs Rudd opened the bag she was carrying her face and words filled with anger.
“I have something that will make sure you don’t do this ever again girl.”
Lizzie seeing what Mrs Rudd had pulled from the bag pushed back on the bed.
“No, No, you can’t, you can’t not that please no pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.”
Lizzie’s pleading unheeded Mrs Rudd aggressively worked, secured and locked the device about a frantic writhing, pleading Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones , Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones had been locked into chastity, the crude leather and steel crotch guard held firmly in place by a no less formidable leather and steel harness all secured with a pair of sealed asp chain locks.
Mrs Rudd stood back watching her maid Lizzie in tears squirm and twist tugging at the chastity belt locked to her.
“You can’t do this to me you can’t, take it off, take it off.”
Mrs Rudd smirked placing the key in her pocket.
“I have and I won’t that belt stays on you, a mark of your shame you filthy whore, now get dressed and to your duties girl.”
If Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones thought she could not sink any lower the next few days proved her wrong.
Maid Lizzie was not seen at front of house, serving meals or flitting from bedroom to bedroom cleaning and replacing linen, her days now confined to either the kitchen or Laundry. If she thought the maid’s uniforms that she had been wearing of poor quality the bulky grey cotton smock’s and waist tied aprons she now wore, made them look like Haute couture.
No longer a house maid, Lizzie, for her, sexual perversion, as Mrs Rudd described it, was now the scullery maid. Dressed in a uniform hardly better than rags she looked and was constantly made to feel wretched. The heavy chastity belt locked to her a constant reminder of what she thought at worst an indiscretion, not a sin worthy of biblical style retribution. But this was not cosmopolitan London, this was rural Scotland has Mrs Rudd had made plain.
Three days of cleaning oven’s, fetching logs for the fires, scrubbing out the laundry vats and the flag floors left Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones truly broken and bereft of all hope.
Mrs Rudd entering the kitchen shouted across the bubbling pans.
“Whore, to the main hall”
Lizzie dropped her scrubbing brush into her bucket of filthy water and slowly stood from her hands and knees and made her way to the main hall.
Standing in front of Mrs Rudd’s desk Lizzie wiped the dirt from her face with her soiled apron and curtsied.
Mrs Rudd smirked sat in yet another of what was Elizabeth’s fine dresses.
“You have brought this on yourself doing what you did whilst you were one of my maid’s, you have been put into chastity and to work as a scullery maid as an example, an example to the others.” “I was angry of course who would not be, but it gave me no pleasure in doing what I had to do to you.” “I am hoping however that this punishment will help you atone for your sins of the flesh.”
“The guest’s along with Mr Geoffrey Willis, the gentleman you enticed into your bed, taking him to your room for your carnal pleasures, will be leaving tomorrow.”
Lizzie dare not contradict Mrs Rudd for fear of further punishment such was the control that Mrs Rudd had driven into her. It was all the man’s doing Elizabeth never enticed him. But of course Mrs Rudd knew that, she had contrived the whole situation.
False hope is a cruel tool in the act of subjugation and Mrs Rudd was a master in this art.
“Now Lizzie are you going to promise to be a good girl if I agree to let you return to your role here at Craig Gowrie has one of my house maid’s.” “Let you wear your pretty clean maid’s uniform?”
Elizabeth, seeing salvation being dangled in front of her, no longer slaving in the kitchen and laundry, to get washed, out of the tattered rags she had been wearing, responded meekly.
“Yes Mistress, I will be a good girl, a good house maid, I promise Mistress”
Mrs Rudd chuckled
“Good, I want you to get a wash, fresh uniforms are in your closet, and then back here to the main hall.”
Lizzie wanted to ask about the chastity belt, she had to ask about the chastity belt and having it removed.
A quick curtsy
“Mistress the chastity belt can that be removed now?
Mrs Rudd’s eyes tightened
“After what you have done?”
“You will need to get used to wearing that belt for some time after what you did, we cannot have any repetition can we?”
“First you will prove what a good house maid you are like Maddie, Jennie and Cathy then we can talk again about your fornication, your punishment and your redemption.”
Lizzie skulked away and was near the top of the stairs, heading to her room when the realisation of what Mrs Rudd had confirmed about her chastity belt sunk in and spoke under her breath
“I can’t keep wearing this belt I just can’t”
Lizzie washed and in clean underwear, uniform and bright white bibbed apron, her wig in place, covering her bald scalp with her cute lace cap perched on top she looked perfect, the perfect house maid. Pleased to be out of the rags, pleased to not be confined to the back kitchen’s, accepting of being kept in chastity by the secure device locked to her, genuinely pleased to be Mrs Rudd’s house maid Lizzie???? Had she forgotten she was a barrister not a maid? That she was a guest here at Craig Gowrie not a maid?
Mrs Rudd smiled seeing her maid Lizzie enter the main hall in her pristine maid’s uniform with her neat short black bob wig, her maid’s collar around her neck and beneath her rustling petticoats, hidden from view, locked into chastity. Elizabeth now no different to Mrs Rudd’s other maids servile, collared, bald and belted.
Walking from the large entrance doors maid Lizzie approached Mrs Rudd and curtsied.
Mrs Rudd stood wearing another of Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones’s own expensive dresses and lingered whilst Lizzie could not help but gaze in admiration at what she had once worn now the curve hugging vestige of Mrs Rudd.
“I like this one Lizzie it is my favourite now, a pity you gave your clothes away, still you have your uniform don’t you and what else would a maid like you need?”
Elizabeth had given up on thoughts of ever reclaiming her wardrobe, having failed to restrict her diet her figure remained quite podgy they could never fit her now and Mrs Rudd was right the maid’s uniforms, with their generous fit, whilst a little restrictive, were practical for a maid.
Mrs Rudd walked slowly around her maid Lizzie before returning to sit at her desk.
“Lizzie you have taken your penance so far very well showing me that you fully accept that your whorish behaviour was worthy of the punishment you have received.” “Given you have proved to be a good house maid I have considered keeping your shame, the shame you have brought into this house, within the confines of Craig Gowrie.”
“For that I have decided that whilst you wear your chastity belt you will continue to work here at Craig Gowrie as one of my house maid’s to complete your penance, if you agree to this the matter will go no further, no one needs to know.”
Elizabeth looked at Mrs Rudd, what could she say? Back in London casual sex with a stranger, whilst not something one would broadcast, accepted in the higher echelons of polite social society that Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones circulated within. But within the judiciary that she practised, that was a different matter, exposed as an adulterer she would be ostracised, her career ruined? No doubt it would be publicised about being locked into a chastity belt, actually accepting being locked into a chastity belt?
Mrs Rudd tapped her pencil on the desk.
“Well LIZZIE what is it to be, do I write to Earl Radford or will you be staying on at Craig Gowrie as one of my house maid’s?”
Elizabeth really had no choice and dropped curtsy
“I will stay Mistress, but how long will that be for”
Mrs Rudd smiled and toyed with the beautiful necklace around her neck that was once the possession of Elizabeth.
“Well that will depend on you LIZZIE won’t it, let us start with a month and then we will see.”
Dismissed by a smiling Mrs Rudd maid Lizzie went about her duties preparing for yet another visiting party.
Mrs Rudd ensured that Lizzie received regular Spankings and strapping during her enforced month for her contrived failings. Lizzie having no choice but to accept her punishments each one reinforcing her own reduced status and acceptance of Mrs Rudd’s position as her mistress to be obeyed without question. Worked hard, preparing meals, serving and cleaning the confident barrister, Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones, who came to Craig Gowrie as a guest, now servile and timid under the draconian and dominant regime of Mrs Rudd.
One month drifted into two and in the quiet of her room Elizabeth inspected the lack of any growth to her shiny bald scalp and toyed with the locked asp of her chastity belt. The belt now having been locked to her for many weeks, save for her period of menstruation. Then twisting the irremovable collar, emblazed with her maid’s name that hung around her neck, she gazed into the mirror at the chubby cheeked vision that looked back at her and spoke to the vision staring back at her.
“Why have you let all this happen to you, why, why ,why?”
Would she every leave this place, could she every leave this place, would she want to leave this place???
Elizabeth then threw herself down onto her bed and softly sobbed.
Some time passed before being disturbed by the door opening, Elizabeth’s Mistress, Mrs Rudd stood framed in the doorway.
“Don’t forget that you have brought all this on yourself girl, just be thankful that I am letting you remain here at Craig Gowrie as one of my maid’s”
“Get up girl and tell me that you are thankful for letting me hide your shame here at Craig Gowrie as one of my maids.”
Elizabeth raised herself from the damp pillow and stared at Mrs Rudd before standing her head lowered
“Thank you Mistress for allowing me to be one of your maid’s”
Mrs Rudd smirked.
“Good girl, don’t forget how lucky you are, now get yourself dressed and come down to the main hall.”
Entering the main hall Elizabeth’s legs went weak seeing who was stood at the desk with her Mistress, Earl Radford, her friend Georgina and the barrister she had crossed swords with in court, the right honourable Sir Peter Bannerman.
Mrs Rudd shouted at her maid stood hesitantly by the door frozen with apprehension and fear.
“Come in Lizzie come here at once.”
Elizabeth was red faced and slowly walked to Mrs Rudd’s desk her head lowered.
Mrs Rudd glared at her trembling maid.
“You know how to greet guest’s girl?”
Elizabeth thumbed her skirts and curtsied not daring to look Earl Radford or her friend Georgina in the eye.
“That’s better girl show your respect to Earl Radford, his fiancé and his guest.”
Earl Radford smiled.
“Well, well, maid Lizzie I understand you are our latest recruit to join the staff at Craig Gowrie.”
Elizabeth raised her head slowly looking questioningly at Earl Radford and then at Georgina what did he mean to join the staff? Why is Georgina not saying anything?
Earl Radford relishing the moment continued
“What? That’s your name here isn’t it? Lizzie.
“You asked Mrs Rudd if you could be one of her maids, agreed to be one of her maid’s.”
“You have even accepted a maid’s collar, put it on yourself I understand?”
Elizabeth, breathless from her panic at seeing Earl Radford and Georgina, Georgina now betrothed to Earl Radford and Elizabeth in her Craig Gowrie maid’s uniform, blurted out the obvious?
“No, no, I am not Lizzie, a house maid, Declan you know who I am, I am Elizabeth, Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones, Georgina stop this help me please.”
Georgina remained silent having already listened to Mrs Rudd version of events and Earl Radford smirked accepting a file from Mrs Rudd before handing the file to Paul Bannerman for his inspection
Paul Bannerman chuckled reading the signed documents that Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones and of course maid Lizzie had foolishly signed.
Paul Bannerman handed the file back to Earl Radford knowing these would stand up in any court should they be required.
Earl Radford smiled seeing his fellow barristers discomfort sat in her maid’s regalia, her long blonde locks gone, and her hair a short black bob beneath her lacy cap. The lithe shapely figure he used to watch sachet down the legal corridors bloated, her swelled hips obvious even beneath the generous folds of her uniform.
“Well Mrs Rudd has told me her version of events that has brought you to this state of affairs so answer me truthfully.”
“So is it correct that it was you in the first place that actually offered to be one of Mrs Rudd’s maids.”
“Yes, yes I did I was helping.”
“That you were aware of the rules and strict discipline for a maid at Craig Gowrie but you still agreed and agreed to be a maid under these conditions?”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“And you accepted the wearing of a maid’s uniform the uniform of a Craig Gowrie house maid even though you were a guest here?”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“And during your time as a house maid did you agree to be named Lizzie, curtsy to and address Mrs Rudd as your Mistress?”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“And is it correct you let Mrs Rudd Spank your naked buttocks whilst you were a house maid under her supervision and you did not resist or say anything?”
“Yes, yes I did, discipline had to be maintained for maids.”
“And that you visited Dunockty with Angus dressed in the maid’s uniform of a Craig Gowrie house maid, this actually after your duties as a maid had concluded?” “And that during the visit behaved and portrayed yourself as a Craig Gowrie house maid named Lizzie?”
“Yes, yes I did, I had to."
Earl Radford smirked,
“Really, you had to, a guest at my estate dressing up as a maid?”
“And after all this, you actually asked again if you could be one of Mrs Rudd’s house maid’s knowing full well the strictness of the regime?”
Elizabeth her head lowering with each answer, the way it sounded, it was like being back in court, cross examined, she wanted to explain in more detail but the questions stacked up one after the other
“Yes, yes I did.”
“And during this time you were spanked and strapped on numerous occasions and said nothing accepting your punishments?”
“Yes, yes I did, as I said before discipline had to be maintained.”
Earl Radford leaned forward and tugged gently on the steel wire collar locked around Elizabeth’s neck then flicked the disc emblazoned with her maid name Lizzie.
“And this collar you accepted it willingly placed it around your own neck, a collar that house maids at Craig Gowrie wear, your Mistresses collar?”
“Yes, yes I did it was a reward for being a good maid.”
“And having your head shaved to wear the short black wig of a maid at Craig Gowrie and you said nothing just sat passively whilst this took place, threw your own hair in the fire?”
“Yes, yes I did it was a punishment.”
“Then your clothing, you gave it all to Mrs Rudd, preferring to wear a maid’s uniform, the uniform of a common house maid?”
Elizabeth looked across at Mrs Rudd stood in one of her dresses and her head sank it was true.
“Yes, yes I did.”
“Then having practically begged Mrs Rudd to let you stay at Craig Gowrie, as a maid mind you, not has a guest, continuing to serve under her rules you had sex with one of the visitors to Craig Gowrie? Prostituting yourself like a whore?”
Elizabeth stared at Mrs Rudd believing that being locked into chastity would be kept from Earl Radford but not even this intimate detail of her demise had been withheld and meekly replied?
“Yes, I mean no I mean yes I asked to stay but the man took me he seduced me I was helpless.”
Earl Radford smirked
“Helpless you say, but you admitted your guilt when confronted, agreed to be placed into chastity for your sins to be locked into a chastity belt the punishment and symbol of a whore and a harlot in these parts?”
Elizabeth visibly sagged in her chair confronted with the final act of her subjugation by Mrs Rudd.
“Yes, yes I did.”
“So it is all true, all voluntary as Mrs Rudd has told me?”
“You accepted first a maid’s name then a maid’s collar from the head of household at Craig Gowrie, you have willingly been introduced at the nearest village of Dunockty as a house maid at Craig Gowrie, you have no other clothing but your maid’s uniform, you have allowed your head to be shaved and wear the wig and lacy cap of a Craig Gowrie house maid and finally, for your whorish behaviour, you have been and agreed to be locked in chastity.”
Earl Radford turned away from a shamed Elizabeth who sat staring at the floor wondering what was to become of her. The way Earl Radford had spoken, questioned her, he made it sound like she had wanted to be a maid at Craig Gowrie, and her answers had confirmed just that???
Earl Radford smiled at Mrs Rudd happy with what she had reduced the famous barrister to.
“I have seen and heard enough Mrs Rudd, what you have told me being confirmed from her own mouth, the mouth of MAID LIZZIE herself.”
Earl Radford opened up the file he held in his hand and came close to a now shivering unsure Elizabeth having had recounted to her what she had done and agreed to be done to her.
Earl Radford held open and presented the file, containing two documents, in front of what was Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones.
“So these must also be valid your true wish to become a maid here at Craig Gowrie.”
“I and certainly Georgina would not have believed that you willingly signed these documents Mrs Rudd presented to me if we had not heard the answers to my questions from your own lips.”
Elizabeth stared at the documents they were the insurance papers she had signed, weren’t they?
Earl Radford took the first one and thrust it in front of a bewildered looking Elizabeth, not insurance at all.
“Read this last paragraph, and at the bottom that is your signature correct?”
Whilst at Craig Gowrie I Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones wish to be and will be known as maid Lizzie and serve under the supervision of Mrs Rudd. Maid Lizzie is to assume and have lasting power of attorney over my affairs whilst I remain at Craig Gowrie and I willingly forfeit and relinquish all rights and possessions under the name of Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones to maid Lizzie until such time as I Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones leave Craig Gowrie. That all matters be legally binding where maid Lizzie gives her authorisation.
Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones
It was a barrister’s eye’s that now feverishly scanned the document, the text serving to confirm the pattern of behaviour that Earl Radford had so eloquently recounted.
Asked again about the signature Elizabeth shamefully nodded her agreement realising she had been tricked into signing the document. Legal yes but if she leaves Craig Gowrie it is all negated it would mean nothing.
Earl Radford then showed Elizabeth a second document, Elizabeth’s blood ran cold and she was on the point of fainting reading the text where Earl Radford’s finger pointed. It was the second document Mrs Rudd had her sign in the name of Lizzie.
I Maid Lizzie, house maid to Mrs Rudd, in entering into service at Craig Gowrie, offer as a bond for my acceptance and training the lasting Power of attorney I hold for Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones. This I willingly transfer into the name, care and protection of Mrs Rudd to act on my behalf in all matters relating.
Elizabeth stared at the document then at Earl Radford, then to a smirking Mrs Rudd stood with her friend Georgina before glancing at a smiling Peter Bannerman her eyes wide with shock the realisation that she had been slowly and willingly drawn down a path to her eventual subjugation by the skilful manipulation of Mrs Rudd. The documents she had willingly signed bearing legal testament, by her own hand, of her willingness to become one of Mrs Rudd’s Craig Gowrie maid’s. That Mrs Rudd, her Mistress, held power of attorney over her affairs; she was trapped, trapped into a life as a Craig Gowrie maid, maid Lizzie.
Earl Radford having maid Lizzie stand walked slowly around her.
Elizabeth still unaware it was Earl Radford who had instigated her entrapment and had already explained to her friend Georgina that Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones had chosen to become a maid, prior to their arrival at Craig Gowrie, and would be remaining at Craig Gowrie as one of Mrs Rudd’s maid’s.
But with Georgina not fully convinced that the successful barrister would do such a thing Earl Radford had promised his wife to be that she would hear it from Mrs Rudd’s maid Lizzie’s own lips which she now had!
Earl Radford wrapped his arm around his future wife Georgina and smiled at what was Elizabeth Fitzroy Jones.
“The matter is settled girl you will remain here at Craig Gowrie a house maid under the supervision of Mrs Rudd as you have asked for, agreed to be and the documents confirm.”
Georgina stepped forward and smiled sarcastically at the friend she once knew now the podgy, rosy cheeked, collared and belted maid Lizzie the possession of Mrs Rudd.
“I don’t know why you have done this to yourself but you will understand that we can no longer be friends you being just a maid now and with me about to marry Earl Radford.”
Elizabeth looked at Georgina knowing she was right, how could a mere maid and a lady be anything other than Mistress and servant.
Elizabeth, knowing her fate had been sealed, curtsied.
“Yes, Miss Georgina.”
To be continued?