THE MILKMAID AND THE BEAST
LESLIE AYLA
CHAPTER ONE
JOLIE
The large manor house loomed in front of me, imposing in its entirety. It wasn't a very attractive home, the dark brick giving it a haunted feel. But what it lacked in beauty it made up for in sheer terrifying presence. It was three stories high, had an honest-to-goddess set of turrets and a driveway so long I was out of breath by the time I'd made my way to the front door from the gate.
The cab could have dropped me off at the door, but the second we'd pulled up to the address I'd provided the driver, he'd practically shoved me out of the car, barely giving me enough time to pay him from my meagre funds.
Thankfully, his rude behaviour made it easier for me to send him off without a tip. Not that I could have afforded one, but it did ease my guilt some.
I stopped a few feet from the front door, dropped my bags on the ground next to me, and then just stood there. Staring at the house.
Until about five minutes ago, I'd been incredibly excited for this new adventure of mine. A new job, one that included roomandboard. Benefits that allowed me to send Papa to a new carefacility that would be able to provide him with the help he truly needed. But more importantly, pride that I had managed this by myself. I'd done this on my own, even after life had beat me down time and time again.
It was almost as if fate had intervened. Things were dreadful, and looking grim after I'd lost yet another job when some of my coworkers had blamed me for their mistakes, when I found a crumpled listing for a live-in maid on a community board.
At first, I'd thought I’d missed the opportunity, because the advertisement was in such a state that it was almost impossible to read it. It had to have been on the board for ages! But when I'd phoned the number provided, I'd been advised to send my resume, and they'd be in contact for an interview.
I was jostled from my trip down memory lane when the large wooden door opened with a terrible screech. I made a mental note to talk to the housekeeper about getting it oiled up. But first I needed to meet the matronly-sounding woman who had done the telephonic interview.
She hadn't had much to ask me when we spoke, and if I was being honest it sounded a bit like she was desperate for someone, which just seemed odd. Why on earth would they be desperate for a live-in maid? The job market was terrible out there, and I personally knew of at least a handful of women who would jump at the opportunity.
A short, stout woman came barreling out of the front door. She was in such a hurry it seemed like she would barrel straight through me at the speed she was coming.
"Miss Lafleur!" she called out her greeting as she rolled to a stop in front of me. "I'm so glad you could make it. I hope your trip wasn't too troubling."
I smiled in response, trying to push down the nerves and fear building at the cabby's reaction and the look of the house."Please, Mrs Kettlemore, call me Jolie. And it was an easy enough trip. I'm just happy to be here finally."
Or more truthfully, I was relieved to know therereallywas a job at the other end of the phone call. This, too, was something that had befallen me before. There was nothing quite as terrifying as packing up your entire life for a job that was actually a big fat scam.
She smiled at me, a large pleased grin that made me feel welcome. "Jolie, it is. And you shall call me Beatrice. But only when not in front of the master, mind. He's terribly fond of his formalities and proper titles."
Before I could respond, she grabbed one of my bags and turned toward the house. "Now come my lovely. We should get you settled in. The master wished to meet you after dinner. He will review your duties with you and outline what's expected. Don't fret, though. He might be a stickler for protocols, but he's an easy master all round, as long as you follow his rules."
I followed behind her as she continued to ramble, giving me a bit of a tour as she walked through the dark house. I didn't pay much attention to what she was saying, even though I knew that might come back and bite me in the ass later.
Why?
Because the inside of the house was even more imposing than the outside.
I'd thought the dark brick and large turrets were scary.
It had nothing on the gloomy interior.
Shadows curled around big, bulky pieces of furniture; the place was not nearly well-lit enough. Sunlight fought its way through tall, drapery-covered windows. The house had so much promise, but it almost looked like someone (I was guessing the mysterious master) was scared of anything bright and colourful as everything was a dreary dark wood or black fabric.
I followed Beatrice down a dimly lit hallway and up a set of stairs she referred to as the servants' stairway. When we stopped in front of a door at the end of yet another hallway she stopped and looked at me, her friendly expression from earlier replaced with something far more serious and grim.
"These are your rooms, my lovely. And although I don't stand much on ceremony, the master does. You're not a prisoner here, but there are rules that must be followed. You have free rein of the house, and access to all the amenities, but youwillstay out of the master's study. I am the only one who is ever allowed in there, and it is only ever to dust and vacuum the rugs."
She paused, clearly waiting for me to respond, which would make these only the second words I've spoken to her since she greeted me at the front door. "Understood, Beatrice. Any other rules?"
She let out what seemed to be a relieved sigh before nodding her head. "Yes, but the master will go over those with you at dinner tonight. The meal is at nine. You remember where the dining room is?"
I didn't.
