Story: It Wasn't Right. Chapter 11.

by Jackie J

Given no suitable Mistress could be found, that would be willing to take Milly Brannigan to be their trainee personal maid, Mrs Burtonshaw had proposed to fill the void and train Milly personally. There would be no shortage of positions available for Milly Brannigan to be a lady’s maid, once trained, conditioned and mentally prepared for such a position. Mrs Burtonshaw intermating that given the training went well, and she was sure it would, she already had one such position in mind for Milly.

If I wished to proceed and be trained to be a true lady’s maid by Mrs Burtonshaw, meaningful authenticity would be paramount. Mrs Burtonshaw used those words repeatedly when she initially told me of her proposal.  Crestley House was obviously out of the question, being too familiar and distracting. Mrs Burtonshaw’s residence was at best modest, not at all suitable for a Mistress and her personal maid. Also, Mrs Burtonshaw was not wealthy, and a mistress could not be going cap in hand to her personal maid for funds, could she? Mrs Burtonshaw had the answer to resolve all these matters, to create the authentic environment for a mistress and her maid. For the Mistress to have access to the wealth that will reflect her position and for her maid to only have access to what she is given and no more. To experience the true dynamic of being the personal maid of a mistress, a maid must first understand then accept that she is totally dependent on the benevolence of her Mistress. There can be no pretence in this dependency aspect, which will be the cornerstone of the training, how else can meaningful authenticity to be achieved?

 Just sign a few documents and leave the rest to my Mistress, Mrs Burtonshaw.

I had smiled when Mrs Burtonshaw said, that in many ways, she already was Miss Williams Guardian. In truth, whilst indulging my desires for the apron, I could not argue with that? Why not make it official, Mrs Burtonshaw said quite casually, it will solve everything. 

When I was initially told and then reflected on Mrs Burtonshaw’s scheme, I had found myself in a state of confused panic, confronted by a mental paradox of my own making. Was it a comfortable convenience to separate Mistress and Maid, Miss Millicent Williams, and Milly Brannigan or something more sinister? Still hard to believe but I had experienced a dichotomy of intent. The Mistress of Crestley house questioning the potential consequence of Mrs Burtonshaw’s proposal, maid Milly, like a petulant child, with feelings of resentment that her wish to become a lady’s maid would be jeopardised.

Having had such a surreal and absurd experience I could not agree to what Mrs Burtonshaw was planning, how could I? I was driving myself deeper into madness. But, having tempted myself into the new uniforms, felt the irresistible emotions of servility that they engendered within me, and relived my experience with Lady Carrington, Miss Williams succumbed to Milly’s desires. Miss Williams will continue to do what Milly wants; whatever Mrs Burtonshaw wants of her.

Having confirmed my agreement, to proceed with Mrs Burtonshaw’s scheme, much like I had been told, a few signatures and my role, or should I say more correctly Miss Millicent Williams role in proceedings was over. With the forms signed Miss Williams could not and would not have any further say or influence in Mrs Burtonshaw’s plans for her. I, Milly that is, understood and agreed that would be the case.

Mrs Burtonshaw’s suggestion, to have Miss Millicent Williams Guardianship in the name of Miss Margert Williams made sense. There would be less opportunity for problems with the authorities and bank with Miss Margert Williams sharing the family name, a relation, a cousin and what more trusting than a cousin, to make an excellent Guardian for the unfortunate Miss Millicent. 

Mrs Burtonshaw explained, it was not uncommon to have such a temporary arrangement. After all, it was only whilst I, Milly, remained Mrs Burtonshaw’s personal maid.  Although stated on the documents, it was not like Miss Millicent Williams was actually mentally ill and incapacitated, was it. Mrs Burtonshaw would just have the guardianship order rescinded, when Milly Brannigan is fully trained and had experienced life being a personal lady’s maid, wouldn’t she?

Mrs Burtonshaw did not have to do what she has already done for me, and now all this. But for her I would still be a frustrated mistress, looking from the outside in, into the world of domestic servitude. Now I am not just to be a maid of all work but a lady’s maid, the personal maid of a Mistress.

Mrs Burtonshaw, now my Mistress and assuming the name of Miss Margret Williams, suggested a letter from Milly Brannigan, being Miss Millicent’s maid, confirming the distressed and unbalanced state of her Mistress, this would help with the Guardianship. It was the least I could do after all Mrs… whoops, Miss Williams had already done, was doing, for me. 

Wearing the finest of my uniforms and a new cape and bonnet, nervous but also excited, I sit with my Mistress outside the offices of the notary. Everything is prepared and after a short wait we are invited inside.

The Notary questioned but understood the absence of Millicent, Miss Margret being most convincing of her cousin’s mental frailty preventing her attendance. The signed papers, already in his possession, of Miss Millicent Williams acceptance and agreement to become the ward of her cousin, along with the testament of her maid Milly Brannigan, enough to see all the formalities completed. A twelve-month order of Custodianship being granted, to be renewed on application. A number of stamps and seals added to the documents the Notary stood from his desk, it was done.

“Well Miss Williams that concludes the matter, I will register the submission with the courts which is a mere formality. You now have full power of attorney. I do hope your cousin can find the strength to recover her faculties although, from what we discussed during our original meeting, it may take quite some time. “

Mrs Agnes Burtonshaw in the guise of Miss Margret Williams stood slowly from her chair and smiled. The documents she placed into her satchel officially confirming her possession and control of Miss Millicent Williams and all she owned.

I was not sure until the last impression of the notary’s seal was setting firm in the cooling wax, but it is done. I turn and smile down at my perfectly attired maid. Her identity confirmed by the notary, Milly Brannigan, with her testimony and witnessing signature, having enthusiastically sealed her own fate, or more correctly the fate of who she was, of Miss Millicent Williams.

With unfettered access to Miss Williams finances, that same afternoon, I conclude the lease agreement on the property I have selected to finalise Milly Brannigans training. Intoxicated and befuddled by her fantasy I doubt Milly realises what I have done to her, what in truth, she has done to herself?  I feel no guilt, the woman wanted to be a maid and with my facilitation, and her own collusion and connivance she is. Who would now consider her to be anything other than just a common maid? Not only a maid in appearance and manner but fully documented to be just such.

All that remains for me now, is to be the cruel Mistress this foolish woman desires. After her experience with Lady Carrington, she craves her total subjugation, to feel worthless and helpless, held under the control and serving the needs of a dominant woman. I have twelve months to feed those cravings, until they are no longer cravings, but her accepted way of life, incapable of living any other way, than being servile at the feet of her betters.

Mrs Burtonshaw, well Miss Williams now of course, changed the very moment we left the offices of the Notary. She warned me that she would, that things would be quite different for Milly Brannigan. Miss called it conditioning.

With finance no longer an issue Miss Williams secured a lease on a sizeable residence. My Mistress and I becoming residents at Poplars, an opulent property overlooking the river Thames most fitting for a rich Mistress and her maid. Before being slapped, and slapped hard, and told to know my place, I had dared to question whether such grandeur was necessary.

My conditioning is relentless and continues unabated. There is no respite from my belittling denigration, humiliation, and being chastised and ridiculed at each and every opportunity. My Mistress strict and uncaring.

I attend Miss Margret, her personal needs, bathing, dressing, grooming and her hair but it does not free me from the more mundane tasks of a maid. Cleaning, cooking, the laundry. Mistresses’ inspections being increasingly fastidious. A smear on a window, mirror or glassware, dust, dust anywhere, a lack of sheen to any surface, anything out of place and her ridiculing chastising tirades make me tremble. It is all too much for one maid of course it is. That is why things are left undone, that is why I am spanked at Mistresses pleasure. I deserve to be spanked; I am told that I am deserving of no less. I prefer Mistresses bare hand to the strap but that is never my choice. I just raise the skirts, lower my knickers and bend over what is now christened the punishment chair in the scullery. Unless I want more, I know I must thank Mistress for every slap or stroke I receive.

Being a maid, I have had problems with the way I speak, Mistress says the way I talk, the words I use, and my accent is intimidating, insolent and disrespectful. A lady’s maid could never be so arrogant. Lady Carrington had said the same whilst I was at Bracken Hall.  Mistress found a way to improve my deportment removing my confident stride, with the tight restrictive underskirts, to a now more respectful short shuffling gait. Mistress is now teaching me to speak properly, respectfully, commonly.  Each evening I read from a strange book. Shortened words and slang words that I could not help finding amusing at first when Mistress explained their meaning.  All part of my conditioning, it is not easy and definitely no longer amusing for me, but I must learn. Mistress employing the help of her educator, a thin but strong cane that whacks my knuckles should I revert to my natural tongue. Natural tongue indeed, what is that? I am on my second book and am already fearful of speaking in any other way than my Mistress demands.

Two months of being at Poplars Mistress had me sort through her cousin Millicent’s trunk that she had abandoned to go travelling. It seems an age since I had worn such fine things, light, delicate and pretty. The size of me now, I could never fit into such lovely dresses and gowns. How easy I find it to delude myself that the contents of the trunk are not mine, were never mine, but those of another, Miss Millicent my Mistress’s cousin? Such delusions much easier to accept than the truth. A maid should never covert such fine things, they are for ladies like my Mistress, not the likes of a maid, a maid like me.

Mistress is right of course such beautiful clothing should not be left gather dust. The fine gowns and dresses I alter to fit Miss Margret, the rest of the contents Miss Margret takes for her own. With each fitting of the adjusted dresses, I admire how good they look on Miss Margret. Perhaps I should be resentful rather than pleased with my work, but I am pleased, pleased the garments fit my Mistress so well and she looks gorgeous in the dresses. Miss Margret seems quite amused when I tell her so. “Tha’ luks luvly Miss”

Three months and I am on top of all things domestic at Poplars I have my own rota’s and stick rigidly to them, the household sparkles from the entrance hall to the attic rooms. Mistress’s nit picking continues but the spankings have stopped, and I have more time to lavish my attentions on Miss Margret. The withering looks and sharp words when in Mistresses attendance, for the slightest deviation, from her explicit instruction, holds me on edge, nervous and increasingly attentive to her needs. The spankings seldom, Mistress now only uses the educator, the thin but strong cane that continues to help with improving my diction and pronunciation.  A rap on the knuckles for a first transgression, no matter how slight, a thrash across the open palm for any repeat.

Mistress continually reminds me that an accomplished lady’s maid learns to anticipate a Mistresses needs and wants, and that I still had much to learn in that regard and learn I must.

 There are regular visitors to Poplars, and I take pleasure in displaying my devotion to my Mistress in their presence. Miss Margret Williams now well established in the community and increasingly beyond, playing her role perfectly. Who would doubt her to be other than the lady of substance she so perfectly portrays?

Six months Miss Margret’s maid and more often than not, when I am waiting on Miss Margret, pinning her hair, fussing with the hems of her skirt’s, buttoning her blouse of jacket I am without thought of anything other than genuine admiration for my Mistress. Standing statuesque in her fine clothes she is a true lady. A lady who must be served. 

How long I am to be kept Miss Williams personal maid I am unsure. I no longer ask Miss Margret when I will be ready, when I will have learned all that is needed to be a perfect lady’s maid. Miss Margret’s mocking reply was always and remains the same. If I needed to ask, how could I possibly be ready.

Do I mind being Miss Margret’s maid, of course not. I constantly seek to convince myself of a reality to my situation. That I had not agreed to any of this but had been tricked by my cousin and compelled into a life of servitude, that Miss Margret really was my cousin. I have long accepted that my desires are a form of madness but whilst Miss Margret is happy being my Mistress then I am more than content to remain her maid.