Chapter 1
Emma picked up the tray of food, her fingers trembling slightly as she prepared to bring it to Master Glen's study. The weight of the silver platter seemed to match the heaviness in her chest.
"Hold on, dear." Mrs. Johnson stopped her, her eyes narrowing with concern. "Before you go, I need to know that you know the rules well. I like you. You're a hard worker who pays attention to details and you haven't given me any problems. You haven't been here long and I truly don't want to see you get fired already."
Emma smiled, a flush creeping up her neck at the housekeeper's praise and warning. "Thank you, ma'am. The rules are: don't look at the master, don't talk to him, just put the food down and quietly leave. Do not disturb him in any way. He's an eccentric person who gets annoyed easily and will fire anyone on the spot. And lastly, he has a mistress who comes every Friday night, I just need to bring her straight to his room without question."
"Good." The older woman smiled and nodded approvingly as she made a motion for Emma to get going.
Mrs. Johnson was a woman in her mid-fifties with graying hair neatly tucked under a lace cap. Like Emma, she wore a simple black dress with a starched white apron, the very picture of efficiency and propriety.
Emma appreciated her deeply, for the older woman had proven to be a fair and considerate boss since Emma's arrival at the household a month ago. Unlike some of the other grand houses in the neighborhood, where tales of tyrannical housekeepers circulated among the domestic staff, Mrs. Johnson ran a tight but equitable ship.
Her even-handed approach was evident in how she assigned tasks. She had created a rotating schedule for the more unpleasant chores, ensuring that no single maid was always stuck with the worst jobs. She also made sure that the younger and newer maids, like Emma, were given opportunities to learn more advanced skills and serve the Master as well.
What Emma admired most was Mrs. Johnson's lack of favoritism. In her previous position, Emma had witnessed how preferential treatment could sow discord among the staff. Here, however, Mrs. Johnson treated all the maids with equal respect and consideration, as long as they followed all the rules set forth.
Emma left the kitchen, her heart racing as she made her way to the study. This was her first time meeting the dreadful master of the house, and she couldn't help but wonder what he looked like. He sounded like a difficult person to work for, but the pay was better than the other places she had applied to, and Mrs. Johnson was a good boss. Not to mention Emma needed the money to send home to help out her parents and younger siblings. She didn't mind the work, but she was scared of losing this wonderful new job.
She paused at the door, her pulse quickening. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remind herself: In and out. Quick and easy.
As she entered, she kept her head down, watching her own feet move closer to the mahogany desk. She gently placed the tray down, the soft clink of china against wood echoing in the quiet room. Slowly and quietly, she backed out the same way she came in, fighting the urge to steal a glance at her mysterious employer.
"Thank you."
She froze at the surprising sound, her body tingling at the deep, rich timbre of his voice.
For such a difficult man, he sure had a beautiful voice, she thought. Without acknowledging him, she continued to exit quietly, her cheeks burning and her heart pounding. As she closed the door behind her, Emma leaned against it while her muscles slowly relaxed.
Mission accomplished.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she went back to the kitchen while her heart still raced from the encounter. The cool air of the hallway helped calm her flushed cheeks as she made her way downstairs. The scent of roasted chicken and herbs wafted through the air, reminding her of her own hunger.
She ate dinner with Mrs. Johnson and the other maids in the cozy servant's dining room. The wooden table was worn but clean, set with simple china and cutleries. Emma savored the hearty meal after a long day of work. The chatter of her fellow servants filled the room, a mix of gossip and mundane talk about household duties. However, there was no mention of the master's name.
As she ate, Emma couldn't help but notice the curious glances thrown her way. Word had clearly spread about her first encounter with the master. She kept her eyes on her plate, avoiding their inquisitive gazes.
That night, Emma prepared for bed in the small room she shared with Mary, another young maid who had been here a month ahead of her. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, casting long shadows on the faded floral wallpaper. Emma sat on her narrow bed, brushing her long chestnut hair, when Mary turned to her, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Did you manage to steal a look at Master Glen earlier?" Mary asked conspiratorially, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned in close, her blonde curls falling forward as she perched on the edge of her own bed.
Emma's brush paused mid-stroke, her pulse quickening at the memory of that deep, alluring voice. She bit her lip, torn between maintaining professional discretion and satisfying her own burning curiosity about their enigmatic employer.
"No, I did not dare to. Why?" Emma asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and caution. She set her brush down on the small nightstand between their beds, the soft clunk echoing in the quiet room.
Mary's brown eyes widened with excitement as she leaned even closer, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "You need to at least once. He is the most handsome man I've ever met. All the girls here thought so too and kept fantasizing about him." She glanced nervously at the door, as if afraid the housekeeper might overhear. "We didn't dare mention his name during dinner since Mrs. Johnson hated it. She doesn't like it when the girls talk about the master, good or bad. Four girls were already fired last month because they were being silly around him and trying to get his attention."
Emma's eyebrows rose in surprise. The room suddenly felt smaller, more intimate, as if they were sharing a forbidden secret.
How handsome could he be? Emma thought, her mind racing.
She pictured various faces of all the men she had ever met which weren't many, trying to imagine a gentleman so attractive he could cause such a stir among the staff. Despite her best efforts, she found herself picturing a tall, dark figure with that deep, melodious voice she had heard earlier.
Emma was slightly interested, her curiosity piqued by Mary's enthusiastic description. But as quickly as the intrigue arose, she immediately squashed the idea the moment it formed. The cool night air from the partially open window seemed to clear her head, reminding her of her station in life and her responsibilities.
She had to focus on her job, make money, lots of it, and that was it. There was no time to be silly and get fired. Emma thought of her family back home, in her small village, of the letters she received detailing their struggles. The weight of their expectations and needs settled on her shoulders, grounding her.
"It doesn't matter how handsome he is," Emma said firmly, more to herself than to Mary. She pulled back her covers and slipped into bed, the crisp sheets a stark contrast to her warm skin. "We're here to work, not to fantasize about the master."
Mary sighed, a mix of disappointment and understanding in her eyes. "You're right, of course," she admitted, turning off the light. The room plunged into darkness, broken only by slivers of moonlight peeking through the curtains. "But it doesn't hurt to look, does it?" she added softly, her voice already heavy with approaching sleep.
Emma smiled. No, it doesn't.
She lay in the darkness, listening to Mary's breathing getting more even. Despite her determination, she couldn't help but wonder what Master Glen looked like now that Mary had planted a seed. As she slowly drifted off to sleep, his deep masculine voice echoed in her mind and her dreams were filled with tall shadowy figures.
A/N October 17, 2024
