Back in Service by Rosanna Challis Page A

mouth tight and her eyes downcast.
    ‘We shall take tea together in my drawing room later,’ Hetty insisted. ‘Tell Lady Alice… tell her I want to show you how to take care of hairbrushes and combs. That will satisfy her.’
    Jane nodded miserably and Hetty could not help fearing the worst. She spent the next half hour in a state of agitation, and when the tentative knock finally came at her door she rushed to open it. ‘Come in, my dear, I have the kettle on and there are crumpets to toast on the fire.’
    While Jane sat near the blazing coals and pronged a crumpet, Hetty made tea in a kettle set on a little spirit-stove in the corner. She insisted on this small independence from the servants, having been used to making do for herself in Paris. On a chilly day, there was something intensely satisfying about the making of tea and the toasting of crumpets and she wanted it to remain a private pleasure.
    Secure from interruption, the two young women settled comfortably around the small hearth. ‘Now, Jane, you must tell me everything that happened with Sir Victor,’ she began firmly. ‘Do not fear my embarrassment. Remember, I have been in your shoes and know everything about that man’s debauched appetites.’
    ‘Oh Hetty,’ Jane sighed, ‘it was dreadful!’ She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.
    ‘What did he do, my dear?’ Hetty put a comforting arm around her shoulders, resisting the urge to comfort her with a more intimate embrace. ‘Here, have a sip of tea, it will give you courage.’
    When Jane had calmed down somewhat, she began to tell her story in a quiet, hesitant voice. ‘I went up with Nanny Baines, as you know, taking the Hungary water. He was sitting there in a big leather chair with his feet on a footstool and a plaid shawl covering his limbs. I thought nothing of it at first since he looked every inch the invalid. I even began to feel sorry for him.’
    ‘Your sympathy is wasted on the likes of him,’ Hetty interjected tersely. ‘It is never wise to lower one’s guard with a man like Sir Victor.’
    ‘Then that Baines woman,’ she wiped away a tear with the back of her hand, ‘lifted the blanket up to his knees and told me to rub the water into his bare feet and legs. I obeyed, of course, still thinking nothing of it, really. But as I knelt beside him, I could feel him stroking my hair as if I were some little lapdog. I ignored it, but then he started caressing my neck and I began to feel more and more uncomfortable.’
    ‘But you continued massaging his legs?’ Jane nodded, slipped a crumpet off the toasting fork and handed it to Hetty, who smeared it liberally with butter and handed it back. ‘Eat up, Jane dear,’ she urged.
    There was a pause while both of them ate and drank their tea. Hetty noticed Jane’s chin was slick with butter and leaned forward with her napkin to wipe it. The girl smiled at her gratefully, and at once improper feelings rose in her bosom she did her best to suppress, telling herself she must retain the girl’s trust at all costs. ‘Come on then, Jane,’ she said gently. ‘What happened next?’
    ‘Nanny Baines came up to pull the blanket higher over his thighs, right up to his loins, and I saw his… his you know…’
    ‘His phallus, Jane. There is no shame in giving the male organ its rightful name.’
    ‘Yes, his… phallus was completely exposed.’
    ‘What state was it in, Jane?’ she enquired, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
    ‘What do you mean, state? ’
    ‘Surely you know a man’s organ may be in one of two states, Jane, small and shrunken when at rest, or large and stiff when prepared for the deed of procreation. So tell me, what condition was Sir Victor’s phallus in?’
    Jane’s eyes filled with tears again, and fearing she had spoken too bluntly, Hetty once more rose to put a comforting arm around the girl’s shoulders. ‘I told you, Jane, there is nothing to be ashamed of. You did no wrong, I am sure of