Chapter 2.
The carriage ride seemed to take hours. Lucy jounced and swayed gently, occasionally dozing in the warm but still airless cocoon of her blankets, feeling Rosetta's trust form occasionally knock against her. Her experience shrank to this dark, swathed world, the taste of her gag and the now stronger smell of feminine perfume surrounding her like a miasma. She worked at the cords about her arms legs and body, first struggling, then testing each methodically with continual pressure. They felt like flat, soft cloth of some sort, surprisingly comfortable despite their tightness, only the rigid cramps of her position, lying face down with arms bent tight into her back and her legs firmly together actually causing her any distress.
As the journey rolled on and Lucy fell into a fitful sleep, she found herself feeling an odd sense of safety. She did not know what was going to happen, she would probably be hurt, perhaps even raped, and yet her very helplessness, the thought of winging into the night in a mysterious coach, the thought of being unable to do more than mew a protest at whatever these unknown kidnappers planned was strangely exciting, causing an odd glow at the base of her stomach.
As usual when in moments of excitement Lucy's thoughts turned to Simon. He'd come to STrefon hall a few days before. The other servants whispered that he was Rosetta's betrothed, some sort of marriage arranged by her father on the continent before Thomas Strefon's mysterious death. Lucy had first seen him when Rosetta ordered the maid to bring them tea in the drawing room.
She remembered the smug, catlike grin on Rosetta's face as she sat in a scandalously short black dress that seemed almost at the point of spilling her bosom to the world, her shapely legs crossed beneath a wealth of transparent silk petticoats that seemed more to accentuate the marbled skin of her thighs than conceal them.
"this man is mine" that smile seemed to say.
"this man and all his money"
"Put the tray here!"
Rosetta ordered imperiously, pointing at the table before her. Lucy quailed, she knew that tone all too well, her hands almost betrayed her, starting to shake and setting the teacups rattling.
With an instinctive gesture of kindness Simon reached out one surprisingly delicate hand and steadied the tray, his fingers brushing her skin for a moment. She looked up into his blue eyes and saw him regarding her honestly, not the look of master to servant but something more open, more friendly.
"Allow me to help miss ----"
"Lucy"
She whispered.
"My name is Lucy"
"just the scullery maid! Back to the kitchen with you girl"
Rosetta's tone was dismissive, casual. Like a herder shooing cattle she reached out a hand and turned Lucy's face towards the door, combining it with a little push on the maid's well shaped behind.
"Miss Strefon. I hold it the highest duty to treat all ladies as ladies, whether they be a maid or heiress. After all, all are members of the fair sex"
"and you'd know all about fair sex wouldn't you my dear Simon"
Rosetta smiled again, leaning forward to display her assets to best advantage, but from the corner of her eye as she retreated, Lucy thought she saw Simon wince, obviously discomforted by this blatant and predatory gesture, though a second later the door had shut behind her and once again she was back in the world of housework and steam.
"We're nearly home now. So, we're still settled on where to house our guests? I believe no changes need to be made in arrangements now that we have two ladies staying with us instead of just the one we planned"
These words, spoken in Francis light, cultured voice snapped Lucy out of her reverie of the past. Her captors had mostly been silent on the journey, only exchanging an occasional word about directions.
"I still say Francis the cellar is best"
"Marian!"
Francis voice was firm, obviously this was a matter they had disagreed about in the past.
"Your arrangements down there are nothing short of barbaric. Our grounds are extensive, and the master bedroom has a stout lock on the door, as do all the doors to the outside world. The bedroom is more than big enough for too. I'm sure our guests are intelligent girls who understand it is in their best interest to cooperate"
"If not that maid can always sleep with me!"
Jude's characteristic basso chuckle proceeded this statement, and abruptly once again Lucy felt her insides tighten as though the bonds around her waste had been cinched a few inches further. Again, she mewed through her gag. Marian had a cruel, almost indifferent competence about her, Francis, a strange form of courtesy, but Jude was purely and simply a beast with appetites to match. She wondered why the large perverted man seemed completely uninterested in Rosetta with her coltish legs, willowy frame and voluptuous curves, then realized the truth. Rosetta was the daughter of a land owner, the legitimate daughter of a land owner, while she was just a penniless maid, a fitting plaything for such as Jude.
"Don't be a fool Jude. You know that our package was not to be harmed"
"But I aint' talking about her!"
Marian's tone was again cool.
"Hmmmm, I wonder. Either way, you may not touch the girl until I say, not unless you'd like to find yourself at the end of a hempen rope doing the hangman's fandango. Remember"
Her voice grew soft and menacing.
"I know what you did in Rochester! I know about all of the girls, and where they all went"
Lucy heard a sullen silence from Jude that was seemingly answer enough. She felt hands at the swathes of blanket covering her body, folding them back and exposing her to the light and air again. By the lack of rough treatment she guessed them to be Francis' hands, though could not be sure. Just as when she'd been wrapped up there were a few dizzying turns as she was rolled out of the blankets, the last nearly pitching her off the long leather seat onto the carriage floor, forcing her to push down on her bound ankles to save herself, pushing her body into a clumsy sitting position amid the nest of fusty blankets.
She found herself sitting as she thought on a long leather seat in a large but plainly appointed carriage. A covered lamp swung above with the movement of the horses, and thick blinds were rolled over all the windows save the one in front from which came a hint of night and the sound of clopping hooves.
On the seat facing her were two of her three kidnappers, while Francis, his hands still full of blanket stood over her, his elegant form swaying expertly with the motion of the carriage, light catching in the curls of his golden hair.
In the corner beside her was an upright roll of blue velvet still securely tied, with two gorgeous legs protruding from the bottom. Distractedly Lucy wondered why Rosetta had not worn any slip or petticoats under her ball gown, then decided she probably didn't want to know.
Francis reached across her to tweak at the blue velvet at about the point where Lucy guessed Rosetta's face was. She now saw a small hole had been torn into the material at the level of her nose, undoubtedly to help the gagged girl breathe. A job of sewing for her next time the dress went to the laundry Lucy again thought, her mind distracted and whirling, seemingly drifting like an errant wind.
"Now then ladies. I hope I have your full attention. We are about to arrive at my manner house and your choice of accommodations is entirely up to you. My sister"
Here Francis cast a look at Marian who returned it coolly.
"Believes you will not cooperate without harsh treatment, including lodging in our cellar, a cold and dank place which I am sure you would find decidedly against your liking. I prefer to hold to the good nature of all females, and am sure that as ladies of delicacy and refinement you would not put your hosts to excess trouble. If however it becomes necessary for us to take sterner measures with your accommodations, be certain that we will do so"
Here his tone became hard, and for the first time Lucy could see a resemblance between him and his older, harsher sister.
"You cannot escape. All you can do is cause yourselves extra discomfort. When we reach the house I will be glad to free those pretty mouths and untie those darling hands, but such freedom is only on the provision of your good behaviour and can be taken away again at any time. I don't seek for your agreement, for in truth matters will be the same whether you agree or not, it is just your own comfort which will alter"
As he finished this speech, Lucy heard the carriage wheels rattle across gravel, the horses hooves skidding slightly. She wondered who exactly was driving the carriage given that all of her captors had been present inside, but then dismissed the thought, it hardly mattered at this stage whether 3 or four, undoubtedly there would be no opportunity to escape before they got inside and were behind locked doors.
Marian reached over and opened one carriage door then reached long, tanned hands out to grasp the shrouded form of Rosetta.
"This way my lady!"
Her low voice gave the title a hint of sneer. Ignoring a plethora of muffled protests, she pushed the noisy parcel out of the carriage, standing Rosetta on her feet and jumping down beside her. Lucy wondered if her own ankles would be untied, and worried given that she suspected movement would be difficult after such a long time bound, however Francis, with rather more strength than she'd expect from his slim frame scooped her trim, trussed body into his arms.
Again, she thought of Simon and felt that fleeting, unwelcome sense of safety, her head cradled on this man's shoulder, her sheet of hair bound by the strip of her gag falling softly against his jacket. What was she thinking! She was a prisoner, a captive, and this man, cultured though he might be was still one of those holding her prisoner.
She saw nothing but stars and the branches of trees, the sky paling towards dawn as she was carried through the night, up a few steps and into a hall with a low dark ceiling. The panelling was fine, as though this was an old house, but badly repaired, here and there a panel cracked and stained and dust blotching the corners of the ceiling.
Lucy was carried up a long flight of stairs, feeling Francis' narrow chest heaving with the exertion as he reached the top (though small, Lucy was still a sturdily built girl) Judging by the continuing sound of muffled complaining squeaks and stumbles ahead of her Rosetta was going first.
She saw a lintel, again fine wood, and the glow of an oil lamp on red silk curtains, then she was deposited onto the soft, smooth surface of a feather bed, one obviously covered in satin. Francis' hands worked at the white shawl over her face, untying first the front and then the rear knots, then with deft fingers he pulled the sodden lump of pink silk from between her lips.
Lucy's mouth felt extremely dry from the long time gagged, and her jaw had a soreness she didn't expect as she worked it. The gaga hadn't been dangerously tight, but undoubtedly wearing one for an extended period was not comfortable, her mind went back to the conversation in the carriage and she felt her stomach flutter at the very thought of being gagged and bound again, --- though whether that flutter was fright or a strange sort of exhilaration she couldn't tell. She felt the man's hands untying her various bonds, and looked over with a morbid curiosity to see what exactly she had been tied with.
Long cotton curtain tiebacks, all finely woven in a shade of dark, passionate rose pink. She recalled the monumental task of washing the curtains of Rosetta's bedroom she'd undertaken the day before, dumping the heavy cotton fabric in a tub of boiling water until her hands felt hot and raw, and only a liberal application of hand cream had kept her skin from cracking and going red as a lobster. Well at least they'd been comfortable, who knew what would've happened if the kidnappers hadn't found such convenient materials in the laundry.
From across the room, the tall dark haired woman was removing Rosetta's gag. The handkerchief came free with an explosive gasp.
"How dare! you! I am Rosetta Strefon! I can have you hunted from one end of the country to the other! You know what you are doing is against ----"
Marian leaned forward her eyes dark and hooded in her long pitiless face, her sleek dark hair falling in a curtain, black as a raven's wing. She grasped the lower part of Rosetta's face in one hand, her long fingers pressing cruelly into the soft skin around her mouth. Rosetta's protests stopped and Lucy saw the large blue eyes grow wide with astonished fear.
"This is why I would have you silenced!"
Marian's voice hissed like a snake.
"In deference to my brother's foolish wishes, I will give you one more chance. Do not waste it"
She released the girl's face and cast an approving look at Lucy who hadn't moved or spoken despite being free.
"You should take lessons from your sister"
Even now, even in the extremity of her fear, Rosetta's lips tightened at the mention of the family relationship between them and Lucy felt a distant spark of anger. For goodness sake, could the girl carry a grudge so far?
Francis crossed to the door and Marian joined him, two black figures one in skirt and blouse one in a suit, but once again both menacing.
"Goodnight ladies"
A second later the huge oak door slammed shut, and as promised there was the rattle of a heavy bolt before footsteps echoed away down the hall.
Lucy stood carefully, smoothing down her thin cotton dress as she felt circulation slowly returning to her limbs. Looking around their new prison she saw it was a large room with a thick pile carpet of wine red and a huge satin covered bed in the same shade, flanked by a pine dressing table, wash stand and several wardrobes. The grate was empty, and the room was surprisingly cold, but an oil lamp burned on the mantle. Lucy crossed instantly to the window, her body moving stiffly. Sure enough as she suspected, the glass outside the red curtains was covered with a thick set of crosswise iron bars, through which was nothing but a dim view of tree dotted fields stretching away under the cold stars.
From behind she heard the sound of water, and suddenly aware once more how dry her mouth was, still tasting faintly of perfume and sweat she turned. Rosetta had grasped the jug from the wash stand, and not bothering with the cup was draining it greedily, snorting almost like an animal.
"Mmmmm"
Lucy ventured timidly, fearing that all of their limited water supply would be gone in a second.
"Silence girl!"
Rosetta finished the jug and tossed it thoughtlessly on the floor, smacking her lips.
"Now, you can brush my hair before I retire"
Lucy looked down at the jug mournfully, massaging the inside of her mouth with her tongue.
"What?"
Rosetta shrugged, attempting to rearrange the folds of her hopelessly rumpled gown. Being used to package the girl up had left the garment a mass of wrinkles and creases that even hours with an iron and hand drying would have trouble getting out. Tiring of the task, she simply wriggled her narrow shoulders and let the gown fall carelessly to the floor, kicking off her high healed shoes as she did so.
Lucy saw she had been wrong in her earlier assumption. Rosetta was indeed wearing a slip above those white stockings and black panties, a confection of ivory white silk that clung rather than concealed, emphasizing every curve of her body but ending almost above the thighs.
"Brush my hair!"
Rosetta repeated, seating herself cat like on the side of the bed and combing back the thick, dark gold coils of her locks. She gestured to a wood handled brush on the dressing table.
"Of course it's a privilege for a little bastard like you to even touch a high born lady, but here since my dear Margaret can't be with me, you will be my lady's maid"
Margaret, a thin, sour faced red head in her late forties who it was rumoured was teaching Rosetta the arts of seduction. Lucy didn't think much to being her replacement.
"But Rosetta"
The slap was not hard, but it rang through the empty room with the sound of a gunshot.
"mistress!"
Lucy started again.
"But mistress, we should work together. I know we haven't always been close in the past, but here we just have each other and"
Lucy ducked the second slap, and felt that little fire of anger burst out again. Obviously Rosetta was content to be a captive, to be helpless so long as she could make someone else worse off than herself. It was childish, puerile, and Lucy found herself for the first time in her life contemplating hitting back.
Then again, she had said it herself. They were alone together, and undoubtedly just as her captors had the ability to make both of their lives more miserable, so did Rosetta.
Sighing, Lucy obediently picked up the brush and knelt behind Rosetta on the bed, wordlessly drawing it gently through the thick gold tresses, ignoring that now cloyingly familiar smell of Rosetta's perfume that clung to the high born girl's skin and hair.
Rosetta moved gratefully under the brush strokes, catlike, almost purring, but offering never a word of praise or encouragement. One hundred strokes later she divested herself of the rest of her clothes and slipped her supple, willowy body between the crimson sheets.
"douse the light girl"
Lucy hesitated. Dry mouthed, aching, she hadn't removed any of her clothes. She looked at the wide expanse of the luxurious bed and thought how comforting it would be for her strained muscles to slip into it's cool embrace.
Saying nothing she crossed the room to the mantle and blue out the flame on the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Crossing back to the bed she slowly removed her clothes, wincing slightly as sore shoulders and arms moved in unaccustomed directions, then timidly she laid one hand on the satin bedspread.
"What are you doing!"
"well I thought this bed is large and there isn't, ----"
"The floor is good enough for you girl! now go!"
"but"
Lucy clapped a hand to her mouth, she'd countermanded Rosetta. To her utter surprise the other girl didn't notice.
"but nothing! You should be grateful, the floor's carpeted!"
Lucy pursed her lips and traversed the room, thinking ruefully of the bundled blankets from her own bed that had been used to transport her into this captivity. Probably still in the carriage. Resigned to an uncomfortable night she gathered together all the material she could, Rosetta's rumpled ball gown and her own thin grey dress, the various under garments, even the materials that had been used to tie and gag both girls. Crossing to a corner she made herself an inadequate pillow and almost to her surprise fell at once into a deep, exhausted sleep.
END