Curious_Muse
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2016
- Posts
- 164
Lucy hurried up the stairs, excited to be able to be of service to Mr. Dawkins. She carried a porcelain bowl and his shaving kit, helplessly trying to simultaneously grab a large pitcher with water that one of the kitchen maids had placed there for her.
“Oh, don’t tire yourself,” a voice said behind her. “I’ll carry that for you.” Lucy, recognising Nora, flinched. “It’s fine, I can do it myself.” The other girl laughed softly. “Don’t be silly. With what hand? You’ll break your neck on these stairs if you try to carry of this at once.”
If Nora had seen Lucy’s face, she’d have understood that the girl was pondering the breaking of necks herself. Why could this Nora not keep her nose out of other people’s business for once? Mr. Caldwell had specifically asked for her, Lucy’s help, and yet there she was, trying to barge in on favours that were not for her to collect.
“Fine,” she said coldly and continued her way up without turning around. “Don’t spill anything.”
Nora was too distracted to notice Lucy’s displeasure. Her offer to help was not a selfless gesture. She very much hoped to find a moment to ask Mr. Dawkins about Dr Winchester. Maybe he would inquire about the research he had asked her to undertake? It would be an excellent opportunity to bring up the Society she had read about without revealing too much of her knowledge. When she arrived in the dressing room, Lucy was already preparing the shaving foam in a small bowl.
“Don’t just stand there,” Lucy snapped at her. “I need the water.”
Lucy applied the shaving cream with gentle, almost loving gestures. He was such a fine man. Her fingertips brushed over his naked chest in a gesture that could have been accidental, or not. The sharp blade scraped over his skin without so much of a nip. Nora watched, lost in thought. There had been several pictures in that scandalous album where men had used blades to cut away strings of silk, of lace. Some had used knives to caress the skin of the helplessly bound women, and Nora wondered if that had been all. In one of the images the tip of a blade had drawn small drops of blood, and yet the victim had seemed lost in blissful extasy.
“You’re such a klutz!”
Nora realised that she had accidentally tipped the pitcher she had been holding, pouring water onto the floor. Lucy was furious.
“Just…just put it down. I’m fine doing this by myself.”
The red-haired girl mumbled an apology, blushing profusely and avoided looking at Mr. Dawkins before rushing out of the room. She needed to get a grip on herself before she’d be kicked out of the house.
***
Kitty opened the door and beamed at the woman on their doorstep. “Good morning, miss,” she said happily. “Please do come in. Mr. Caldwell and Mrs. Mortimer are already expecting you in the Great Room.”
Elena smiled at her and nodded. “Thank you.” Kitty nodded happily. “I do hope you had a pleasant journey.” She so wanted the young woman to feel comfortable and at home in Dawkins House. How very sad her eyes looked! “It’s right through there.”
To a woman of an aristocratic background such as Elena, the setting of the Great Room was somehow familiar. She curtsied briefly at the door before making her way towards the table. Everything in this house was of a tasteful elegance that she had not expected. When the guesthouse owner had told her about this place, Elena had pictured a home for wayward waifs and fallen women, a sombre, joyless residence.
“It’s an honour to meet you, Mr. Dawkins,” Elena said nodding her head, her Greek accent slightly more pronounced than usual. She was nervous. “I’m Miss Elena Castellanos.” There was a brief pause. In fact, she was now Mrs. Wesley Gilmore, if the ceremony had not been a lie as well. But what did that name now signify? If anything, it only added to her shame. She turned towards Adelia. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Mortimer.” She assumed that the empty chair was for her but decided to remain standing until she was invited to sit.
“Please,” Adelia said, “Do sit down.” She briefly smiled at Caldwell, signalling how thrilled she was with their first candidate of the day. Such elegance, such fragile, heart-wrenching beauty. It was rare that Dawkins House welcomed upper class women, as they usually commanded the means to extricate themselves from shameful situations with the help of their families. But here was a young aristocratic woman who was stranded in a foreign city, lost and alone. The potential of such a girl! Adelia lost herself in images of Elena dressed in expensive black silk, in corsets, stockings and pearls. She’d bring even the most jaded young dandy to his knees.
Nora appeared with a silver tray, carrying three porcelain cups with coffee, a bowl with sugar and a small pitcher with cream. Aware of Mr. Dawkins’ earlier displeasure she did not linger, but she shot furtive, curious glances at the new arrival.
Elena thanked Adelia and sat down, her gloved hands resting on the tablecloth before her, wondering what would be required of her in order to be admitted to Dawkins House. Adelia looked at her lover. “My dear Caldwell, please, you go first.”
“Oh, don’t tire yourself,” a voice said behind her. “I’ll carry that for you.” Lucy, recognising Nora, flinched. “It’s fine, I can do it myself.” The other girl laughed softly. “Don’t be silly. With what hand? You’ll break your neck on these stairs if you try to carry of this at once.”
If Nora had seen Lucy’s face, she’d have understood that the girl was pondering the breaking of necks herself. Why could this Nora not keep her nose out of other people’s business for once? Mr. Caldwell had specifically asked for her, Lucy’s help, and yet there she was, trying to barge in on favours that were not for her to collect.
“Fine,” she said coldly and continued her way up without turning around. “Don’t spill anything.”
Nora was too distracted to notice Lucy’s displeasure. Her offer to help was not a selfless gesture. She very much hoped to find a moment to ask Mr. Dawkins about Dr Winchester. Maybe he would inquire about the research he had asked her to undertake? It would be an excellent opportunity to bring up the Society she had read about without revealing too much of her knowledge. When she arrived in the dressing room, Lucy was already preparing the shaving foam in a small bowl.
“Don’t just stand there,” Lucy snapped at her. “I need the water.”
Lucy applied the shaving cream with gentle, almost loving gestures. He was such a fine man. Her fingertips brushed over his naked chest in a gesture that could have been accidental, or not. The sharp blade scraped over his skin without so much of a nip. Nora watched, lost in thought. There had been several pictures in that scandalous album where men had used blades to cut away strings of silk, of lace. Some had used knives to caress the skin of the helplessly bound women, and Nora wondered if that had been all. In one of the images the tip of a blade had drawn small drops of blood, and yet the victim had seemed lost in blissful extasy.
“You’re such a klutz!”
Nora realised that she had accidentally tipped the pitcher she had been holding, pouring water onto the floor. Lucy was furious.
“Just…just put it down. I’m fine doing this by myself.”
The red-haired girl mumbled an apology, blushing profusely and avoided looking at Mr. Dawkins before rushing out of the room. She needed to get a grip on herself before she’d be kicked out of the house.
***
Kitty opened the door and beamed at the woman on their doorstep. “Good morning, miss,” she said happily. “Please do come in. Mr. Caldwell and Mrs. Mortimer are already expecting you in the Great Room.”
Elena smiled at her and nodded. “Thank you.” Kitty nodded happily. “I do hope you had a pleasant journey.” She so wanted the young woman to feel comfortable and at home in Dawkins House. How very sad her eyes looked! “It’s right through there.”
To a woman of an aristocratic background such as Elena, the setting of the Great Room was somehow familiar. She curtsied briefly at the door before making her way towards the table. Everything in this house was of a tasteful elegance that she had not expected. When the guesthouse owner had told her about this place, Elena had pictured a home for wayward waifs and fallen women, a sombre, joyless residence.
“It’s an honour to meet you, Mr. Dawkins,” Elena said nodding her head, her Greek accent slightly more pronounced than usual. She was nervous. “I’m Miss Elena Castellanos.” There was a brief pause. In fact, she was now Mrs. Wesley Gilmore, if the ceremony had not been a lie as well. But what did that name now signify? If anything, it only added to her shame. She turned towards Adelia. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Mortimer.” She assumed that the empty chair was for her but decided to remain standing until she was invited to sit.
“Please,” Adelia said, “Do sit down.” She briefly smiled at Caldwell, signalling how thrilled she was with their first candidate of the day. Such elegance, such fragile, heart-wrenching beauty. It was rare that Dawkins House welcomed upper class women, as they usually commanded the means to extricate themselves from shameful situations with the help of their families. But here was a young aristocratic woman who was stranded in a foreign city, lost and alone. The potential of such a girl! Adelia lost herself in images of Elena dressed in expensive black silk, in corsets, stockings and pearls. She’d bring even the most jaded young dandy to his knees.
Nora appeared with a silver tray, carrying three porcelain cups with coffee, a bowl with sugar and a small pitcher with cream. Aware of Mr. Dawkins’ earlier displeasure she did not linger, but she shot furtive, curious glances at the new arrival.
Elena thanked Adelia and sat down, her gloved hands resting on the tablecloth before her, wondering what would be required of her in order to be admitted to Dawkins House. Adelia looked at her lover. “My dear Caldwell, please, you go first.”