you.”
She nodded but did not look at him and he felt a stab of pain. Even now he wanted to take her, to hold her. He was lying and he knew it, even if she didn’t. He was not about to let this girl blame herself. He was not about to bring her any more pain than he already had.
“Elspeth, do you understand it is not your fault?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, still looking at the floor.
“Very well, then,” he said. “Please go to your room, then. And tomorrow we will both try harder to be the people we should be.”
Elspeth nodded and turned, walking stiffly from the room. Clifford took a step forward and stopped, clutching the chair to keep himself from following after her. He wanted to go to the girl, but he could not bring himself to do so. So he stood there and watched her go, drawing in regret with every breath.
***
Elspeth did not allow herself to break down until she reached her room. As soon as she did she barred the door and threw herself on the bed, where she sobbed brokenly into her pillow.
Oh god, she loved him. She really did. She was a fool, a complete and utter fool. She was a servant, a pathetic girl so poor that she was working for a man. She lived by his leave with nothing of her own. Why should he want her? Clifford Harker was a fine gentleman in a fine house with two fine sons. He was in mourning now, as he’d pointed out, and vulnerable. He’d given in to a moment of weakness and had stopped when he realized who – or what – he’d been kissing.
It was nearly winter, the time of year when couples generally kept close, kept each other warm. By spring he’d be over this emotional hurdle, and perhaps strong enough to look for love again.
“I won’t be me,” Elspeth sobbed into her pillow. “It won’t be me.”
She tried to imagine Clifford Harker bringing another woman around, an acceptable proper woman. She tried to imagine serving him and this woman dinner as she continued her servitude, of watching this woman take her place with Harry and Colin of seeing this new family go off together on picnics and leave her behind to watch longingly from the window.
She imagined Clifford Harker placing his hand on this new wife’s swelling belly and looking at her with pride, their eyes filled only with love for each other.
This brought tears anew and while she knew she should not be torturing herself, she could not stop the images from coming.
“You must be strong,” she told herself. “You must be strong. It will not do for you to pretend that you can have something you were not meant for.”
Her bottom still throbbed from the spanking and suddenly she felt a great comfort in the pain. It was a reminder that he really touched her, that he was guiding her, that he took an interest in shaping her. It was a reminder of what had happened next and how she had gone from despair to elation in his grip.
“Silly fool.”
She gingerly sat up on the edge of the bed and then stood and walked over to the dresser, pouring some water into the wash basin and splashing it on her face. By the dim candlelight, she could still see how red-rimmed her eyes were, how haunted they were by her own desperate longing.
Elspeth removed her apron and hung it on the peg by the dresser. Next came the dress, and she turned to look at her bottom, wincing at its splotchy and reddened surface. Dipping the washcloth into the cool water she sponged it gently on the torture surface.
She slipped on a chemise then and undid the hair from the loose bun, brushing it as it cascaded down her back.
She sighed as she put the brush down. Tomorrow was a new start, and she vowed to greet the day as a stronger woman who reminded herself as many time as necessary of her station, of her place in the order of things. She would not delude herself or pretend she could be the princess in a fairy tale.
“You are just a maid,” she reminded her reflection. “Just a maid and nothing more. Perhaps I should just leave.”
She nodded but did not look at him and he felt a stab of pain. Even now he wanted to take her, to hold her. He was lying and he knew it, even if she didn’t. He was not about to let this girl blame herself. He was not about to bring her any more pain than he already had.
“Elspeth, do you understand it is not your fault?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, still looking at the floor.
“Very well, then,” he said. “Please go to your room, then. And tomorrow we will both try harder to be the people we should be.”
Elspeth nodded and turned, walking stiffly from the room. Clifford took a step forward and stopped, clutching the chair to keep himself from following after her. He wanted to go to the girl, but he could not bring himself to do so. So he stood there and watched her go, drawing in regret with every breath.
***
Elspeth did not allow herself to break down until she reached her room. As soon as she did she barred the door and threw herself on the bed, where she sobbed brokenly into her pillow.
Oh god, she loved him. She really did. She was a fool, a complete and utter fool. She was a servant, a pathetic girl so poor that she was working for a man. She lived by his leave with nothing of her own. Why should he want her? Clifford Harker was a fine gentleman in a fine house with two fine sons. He was in mourning now, as he’d pointed out, and vulnerable. He’d given in to a moment of weakness and had stopped when he realized who – or what – he’d been kissing.
It was nearly winter, the time of year when couples generally kept close, kept each other warm. By spring he’d be over this emotional hurdle, and perhaps strong enough to look for love again.
“I won’t be me,” Elspeth sobbed into her pillow. “It won’t be me.”
She tried to imagine Clifford Harker bringing another woman around, an acceptable proper woman. She tried to imagine serving him and this woman dinner as she continued her servitude, of watching this woman take her place with Harry and Colin of seeing this new family go off together on picnics and leave her behind to watch longingly from the window.
She imagined Clifford Harker placing his hand on this new wife’s swelling belly and looking at her with pride, their eyes filled only with love for each other.
This brought tears anew and while she knew she should not be torturing herself, she could not stop the images from coming.
“You must be strong,” she told herself. “You must be strong. It will not do for you to pretend that you can have something you were not meant for.”
Her bottom still throbbed from the spanking and suddenly she felt a great comfort in the pain. It was a reminder that he really touched her, that he was guiding her, that he took an interest in shaping her. It was a reminder of what had happened next and how she had gone from despair to elation in his grip.
“Silly fool.”
She gingerly sat up on the edge of the bed and then stood and walked over to the dresser, pouring some water into the wash basin and splashing it on her face. By the dim candlelight, she could still see how red-rimmed her eyes were, how haunted they were by her own desperate longing.
Elspeth removed her apron and hung it on the peg by the dresser. Next came the dress, and she turned to look at her bottom, wincing at its splotchy and reddened surface. Dipping the washcloth into the cool water she sponged it gently on the torture surface.
She slipped on a chemise then and undid the hair from the loose bun, brushing it as it cascaded down her back.
She sighed as she put the brush down. Tomorrow was a new start, and she vowed to greet the day as a stronger woman who reminded herself as many time as necessary of her station, of her place in the order of things. She would not delude herself or pretend she could be the princess in a fairy tale.
“You are just a maid,” she reminded her reflection. “Just a maid and nothing more. Perhaps I should just leave.”
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