The young woman considered Letitia’s words for several minutes as they walked between tall hedges just showing signs of the oncoming autumn season. Little peeks of reds and browns, sparse as yet, but heralding the inevitable arrival of cooler days.
“I don’t know anything about being a maid,” Harriet said. “I’ve had one, but never really paid much attention to what she did. And to be honest, I didn’t like her very much. I always felt she was spying on me.”
“Well there you are then. You won’t be anything like her at all. You’ll be quite the opposite.”
Harriet’s mouth opened and closed. “Miss Letitia…” The remonstrating tone was quite clear. “You are in an aristocratic household. You need a maid who knows what she’s doing. Who can take care of one such as yourself without any direction. Your maid should be able to anticipate your needs, make sure that your day is not plagued with problems…all those things, of which I have no knowledge whatsoever.”
Letitia shook her head. “You’re completely wrong. I don’t need that sort of maid at all.”
Harriet came to a standstill next to a stile. “I do not understand what you’re saying.”
“Very well. Here, come and sit for a moment.” The two women walked to the stile and rested themselves on it, tucked between the hedges and looking out over a delightful view of fields and sheep and a few cows grazing in the distance.
“I’m going to trust you with a secret,” began Letitia. “You’ve been good enough to trust me with yours, and although we barely know each other, I believe such a trust will be held fast between us. Am I right?”
She looked at Harriet, into her eyes, doing her best to gauge this woman she was about to let into her most private thoughts. The honesty she saw there reassured her, as did Harriet’s words.
“I think we met by design, Miss Letitia. You and I were destined to run into each other this morning. Your words make me believe that I do indeed have a future that does not include the terrible things I feared. So yes, whatever you choose to impart will be held close and private until my death. I promise.” She held out her hand.
Letitia took it and shook it. A masculine gesture but an effective one for this occasion. “Then first, you must stop calling me Miss Letitia.” She blinked. “I should amend that to when we’re alone. It would be indeed odd for a maid to be on such informal terms with her mistress.”
“And you will continue to call me Harry?” asked Harriet. “I quite like it.”
“Then Harry it is.”
“Very well, Letitia. Now please tell me what this is all about.” Harriet settled herself in readiness.
Letitia took a breath. “I have written a book.”
“Oh, my. How exciting. And how brilliant of you.”
Harriet’s admiring gaze was exactly what Letitia had found herself wanting for so very long. “Thank you. Yes, it took me a lot of time.”
“Is it a biography? A book of poetry perhaps? Or even…” Harriet took a breath, “a romance?”
“Er…not exactly.”
“Oh, then…a collection of recipes?”
“No, not that either.”
Harriet looked puzzled. “What subjects remain?”
“Sex.”
The silence would have been deafening if not for the birds, who apparently weren’t affected by Letitia’s dramatic pronouncement.
Harriet finally cleared her throat. “You saidsex?” She almost whispered the word.
“I did,” confirmed Letitia, hoping her new-found friendship hadn’t just ended before it had really begun. “I’ve written a book that tells the stories of the ladies who live in an unusual mansion. A place where gentlemen can derive pleasure.”
“You mean whores?” Harriet whispered again.
“No, not whores.” Letitia looked at her. “Definitely not whores. These are women whochooseto be there. They are all well-educated, but not defined by their position in Society. They are hungry for sensual experiences, some have dreams of finding a husband, others of fulfilling their fantasies.”
“And the men?”
“That’s where I decided to take a little more control. The men have to pay exorbitant sums of money to gain admittance to the house. And even then, they may be turned away by the residents at a whim.”
