Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 10.

by Jackie J

Jess stretched and slid from her now familiar bunk and scratched a mark next to the other 30 neat lines beneath her bed, her month was almost done. Washing in her bowl and dressed in her uniform she yawned and stretched. This would soon all be a distant memory, or so she thought.

Entering the kitchen Lizzy smiled across the stoves at her Peggy and Cathy already seated at the table.

Jess looked questioningly at Cathy.

“What about her Ladyship's breakfast and her guest? Shouldn’t we be preparing the dining room?”

Cathy slapped the wooden bench.

“Sit down, Jess. Lady Isabelle and Lady Downton are away so no service this morning or indeed all week I have been told, it’s always the same when Lady Downton visits."

Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 9.

By Jackie J

Her head bowed and her gaze lowered for the most part Jess awaited direction from Cathy whilst Lady Isabelle and Lady Downton dined. Jess took a few hidden glances at the two ladies at table, Lady Downton close up was quite different to how she had imagined. Having seen the lady dismounting her carriage, on her arrival in her beautiful dress, although at some distance, that figure exuded graceful femininity. Dressed how she now was it was a contradiction of Jess’s first impressions. Pretty of course, her raven hair, sparkling green eyes and unblemished pale complexion perhaps she was something beyond pretty, perhaps beautiful would be a more apt description. Jess wondered about her attire quite manly, butch even. On the rare occasions Lady Downton had been mentioned by Jonathan and they were rare occasions indeed, the impression given was of a more girly persona, much more in keeping with the woman that Jess witnessed arriving at Stoneleigh. 

Jess’s thoughts were disturbed, by a discrete and gentle nudge from Cathy.

 Jess approached table and curtsied, raised the wine and recharged the ladies’ glasses with a perfect twist of the bottle before another curtsy and returning to take up her expectant station at the rear of the room. Lady Downton smiled watching Jessica’s humble and impeccable service amused to see Lady Florence Cranwell, a lady of wealth and leisure, serve table in such a submissive and accomplished manner. But Lady Florence had become accomplished in all aspects of serving table, along with all her other more menial duties at Stoneleigh. Cathy had been a good tutor and where Cathy’s endeavours had fallen short in her teachings Miss Hutchings had intervened with her own brand of encouragement.

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 11.

by Camille Langtry and SW

When Sophie knocked on Philip's door and heard his boisterous “come on in”,  she quietly entered and stepped forward slightly, her numerous bracelets and anklets she still wore rattling with every step, and froze when she saw that there was another girl, dressed just as she was, standing in the middle of the room. The girl turned her head and she recognized Rosa, who was clearly unhappy with Sophie’s arrival.

“Oh, I’s sorry Massa Philip, I didn’t know you has company, suh,’’ Sophie mumbled and reached for the door knob, hoping that Philip had already found someone to entertain him this evening and she was free to return to her mistress.

“Don’t be shy, Sophie. Come on in. I am sure Rosa doesn’t mind a little company, do you Rosa?” Philip, said, his words considerably slurred. He was sitting in front of Rosa, an almost empty whiskey bottle in one hand, a horse whip in the other, and was clearly enjoying himself. “I want you girls to play a little game for me. What do you say to that, eh?”

Both Rosa and Sophie remained silent. Both knew well enough that if there was one thing in the world Master Philip wasn’t interested in, it was their opinions.

Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 8.

By Jackie J

Sat comfortably in one of the large easy chairs Lady Downton smirked watching Lady Isabelle fuss around bringing her a glass of sherry.

“So, tell me Isabelle who is this present you have for me?”

Lady Isabelle pulled a file from her desk and smiled.

“A new girl, a new maid, you will like her I know you will, there is something different about this one.”

Opening the file Lady Isabelle began to read the description of Jessica Thornberry which Lady Florence had written.

Lady Downton purred her satisfaction.

“Mmmmmmmmm she sounds perfect and where did you find this pretty thing, where did she come from?

Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 7.

by Jackie J

The week prior to Lady Downton’s scheduled visit to Stoneleigh and after an aggressive and fulfilling ride across the estate Lady Downton dismounted and slapped the flanks of her mount and handed the reins to her stable girl. Lady Downton’s face flushed the stable girl giggled leading the lathered horse to its stall. The smoothing of her hand across the moist saddle indicating just how fulfilling her Mistresses ride had been.

Entering the rear of Downton hall Lady Downton’s maid Lucy stepped back and curtsied when her Mistress brushed past.

Snatching the mail from the stand in the hallway she stared at the distinctive envelope the crest of Cranwell Hall making her boil with suppressed anger. Not since she had been jilted by the heir to Cranwell some years before had there been any communication. Ripping open the envelope she sat and read the letter within. A wide grin grew across her face perhaps she would have her revenge for her betrayal after all.

The letter from Lady Catherine, the women who had promised the hand of her son, told how Jonathan had been deserted by his young wife and the love rival of Lady Downton. That she had never wanted her son to marry Florence and that perhaps at last she and Jonathan could be reunited, the letter inviting her to visit with Lady Catherine at her convenience.

Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 6.

By Jackie J

The first three days of Jessica’s introduction to the life of a maid were brutal and took a heavy toll on her both physically and mentally. Constantly tired every slender weak muscle in her body ached, her joints burned and her reddened knees, chaffed knuckles and blistered palms that would soon harden into calices, bearing testament to her gruelling toil. Gruelling toil for a lady of leisure who had not lifted a finger of domestic work since her early teens, but for a trained and accomplished maid like Cathy just the normal daily routine. 

The brasses that hung in splendid decoration, that Florence had previously admired, now a burden of work. The gleaming floors she had trod during her initial tour of Stoneleigh now swept, scrubbed and mopped clean by her own delicate hands. Jessica’s only refuge being the hard bunk that she collapsed tearfully into each evening. Brushing, scrubbing, mopping, dusting, polishing, this apron, that apron, standing, curtsying Jess, her name now shortened, looked wearily at Lizzy her evening meal slopped onto her offered plate.

Sat with the other maids on the long wooden table Jess sighed and spooned her food. If there was a saving grace to her wretched existence, that she had so foolishly sought, it was Lizzy’s food. Lady Florence ate like a bird but now, here at Stoneleigh, Jess the trainee maid scooped the cooks stew with gusto. 

Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 5.

By Jackie J

Having been helped aboard and seated in her coach, for the return journey from Stoneleigh to Cranwell, Lady Catherine managed to wait until she passed by the barking dogs at the gate house of Stoneleigh before she could contain herself no longer and chuckled and chortled for a good two miles before dabbing her tears of laughter from her cheeks.

The image of her bemused and contrite daughter in law curtsying aproned and dressed in a maid’s uniform meekly handing over all of her clothing then displaying the chastity belt she had been locked into and Florence’s hair, that lovely hair, hair that she had watched Florence tireless brush for hours into a glorious sheen having been unceremoniously hacked for her head. That look of desolation and desperation in Florence’s pleading eyes when she bid her good bye, it was all too much for Lady Catherine. She could not have hoped for things to have gone better.

The coach rattled along its way the journey punctuated with fits of uncontrolled giggles from its passenger. Cranwell was hers again and with the first part of her scheme in place she had work to do.

Returning to Cranwell Catherine summoned Janet.

Story: Daphne and the White Apron. Part 6.

by Monica Graz

Lita/Daphne was full of contradicting feelings and emotions as she was walking fast towards the Arnellos residence. She was still wearing the blue uniform dress that Rosie gave her. She felt slightly embarrassed as she realised that they were strong discolorations at the hem of the dress most probably from the use of cleaning chemicals, but as usually nobody seemed to pay any attention to the young woman walking in the streets of Mayfair. She was obviously a cleaner or a maid going to or coming back from an errand.

A whole new chapter of her Lita persona has been opened widely as she acted as a maid during the past few hours at the Ahmad’s residence, a chapter that touched her profoundly. She had experienced in a disturbingly exciting way that being a maid in a ‘real life’ situation was something that kept her very alert and alive. She let everybody in the Ahmad residence to boss her around and to give her orders and instructions and peculiarly enough she found that this ‘putting her down’ situation was bringing constant waves of secret joy and sexual stimulation. She simply couldn’t understand what was happening to her. She had a feeling that an inner force had taken over and was pushing her Lita persona to new unheard and totally unpredictable situations. 

She found herself suddenly in front of the Arnellos residence building. She automatically used the traders’ entrance and the service lift that took her up to the apartment. She entered from the back door directly to the kitchen.  She removed her cardigan and automatically put her white half apron on. A thin smile crossed her lips as she then realised that this little white piece of material, this small apron, had started everything!

Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 4.

by Jackie J

Taken on a tour of Stoneleigh by Miss Hutchings Florence was soon becoming weary. The journey to Stoneleigh, the shock and horror of how she had been treated: like a common maid, the sluice, the shearing of her hair, the weight and alien restriction of the chastity belt that she had been locked into, her restrictive uniform and the newness of her boots, which constantly nipped at her feet, all taking their toll.

Miss Hutchings leading her new trainee along the hallways room after room conveying duty after duty to an increasingly sagging Florence turned with a scowl.

“Jessica, Jessica are you listening to me girl?”

Florence still not in tune with her new standing sought to reason with Miss Hutchings which under normal circumstance would have been reasonable enough, but for a trainee maid, on her first day, to question the head of household, not the wisest decision.

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 8.

by Andy Engines

“Marije, stupid girl.”

The old woman’s hand flashed out and caught me hard on the side of my face. Tears welled up and I fought to hold them in as nausea pushed up from my stomach and I started to shake. Her face instantly changed and she smiled again and then held me tight.

“Sorry my child but you have to be less clumsy.”

I looked down at the shards of the vase around my feet and so wanted to tell her it was a mistake; that the cat had made me jump, but although my understanding was improving my spoken vocabulary was woefully inadequate still.

“Sorry. Mistake.”

She held me back at arm’s length and smiling she took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped my eyes. “Now, get this mess cleared up.”

Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 3.

by Jackie J

Whilst Catherine and Lady Isabelle retired to the comfort of the parlour to be served tea Florence was ushered along the main hallway to a set of steep stone steps and down the narrow passageway into the lower levels of Stoneleigh manor by Miss Hutchings.

“So girl who got you all dressed up like a princess, a dress like that must have cost a pretty penny more than a maid can afford I’ll be bound?”

Florence felt awkwardly embarrassed even though the dress she had chosen to wear was not her finest it was quite grand for a mere maid and quickly sought to distance herself from its ownership.

“My mistress gave it for me to wear Miss wanted me to look my best for Lady Isabelle.”

Miss Hutchings laughed.

Story: The Secret Slave. Part 10.

by Camille Langtry and SW

The slaves were ordered to line up on the steps as the guests began to arrive. A disturbing thought crossed Sophie's mind: what if one of the guests recognized her? It was not inconceivable to imagine the possibility, even though she was far from home. She anxiously scanned the faces of arriving guests as they exited their carriages and ascended the stairs to be greeted by Caroline, who received them in an attitude of almost regal formality, and, with great relief, Sophie failed to find any familiar faces.

The entire performance for the reception of guests was very well rehearsed with each slave knowing precisely where to stand and what to do. The prettier girls, Sophie among them, were placed at the top of the stairs behind the hostess. Their assigned job was to collect the men's canes, gloves and hats and put them away on a specially designated rack, while the rest of the slaves were required to curtsey or bow in unison for each new arrival. Apparently this ritual was well-known to them, yet the grim-looking housekeeper stood slightly to the side to make sure everyone did their best and there was no chattering or giggles.

The guests were escorted to the garden where the tables had been set out. The sun was still high and the ladies in attendance paraded with their parasols to protect their delicate skin from the treacherous Southern sun. The house maids, dressed in their neat calico uniforms, were quick to offer refreshments to the guests, one or two of whom had traveled for several hours to get to Cypress Hill.

Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 2.

by Jackie J

Florence did not sleep well that night tossing and turning.

How dare she doubt my word, only a trained maid can do maids work well, rubbish, nonsense.

Florence thought of Catherine’s proposal.

Catherine had informed Florence that Stoneleigh, a manor house in the next county some twenty five miles north of Cranwell, were seeking a maid. The plan would be that under the deception of having already been a maid in training at Cranwell she would apply for a position of maid under an assumed name being personally recommended by herself Lady Cranwell, the position would be that of a trainee maid. If she passed the training then she would have proved her word and if not, which Catherine had kept emphasizing that she would have no hope of doing, then her words would have been just bluster and bluff.

Anger at her mother in laws inference that she was incapable of doing a simple maid’s work eventually tired her into a restless sleep.

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 7.

by Andy Engines

Expectantly I sat watching the lawyer as he pulled a writing pad from his briefcase and placed it precisely on the table. He looked up and smiled at me as he reached across his chest and pulled an old fashioned fountain pen from his inner pocket. The silence was unbearable and his smile remained pointed in my direction as he went through an obvious ritual. Last to appear from a side pocket was an old beaten pipe that he lifted out and held in front of me as if for inspection.

“Miss Van Den Berg…May I?”

I dumbly nodded as he then pulled out what looked like a pocket knife from his jacket. “and please its Valentina.” The smile was still pointed at me and then as he picked away at the bowl of the pipe his eyes joined the smile.

“Do you have a … Some thing for this?” He held the pipe pointing into the bowl.

I rose and went to the kitchen wordlessly and looking through cupboards found a side plate that I imagined would suffice. Returning I placed the plate in front of him and sat opposite him again. He nodded his head in thanks and tapped out the bowl of the pipe onto the plate.