Audrey still had not met her new master - or even so much as seen him. She thought him perhaps a ghost, haunting the darkest part of the halls; or perhaps a fairytale prince. She had dismissed the thought just as quick. Wealthy, powerful, and influential - Audrey had an inkling of the reality of most dukes and lords. Fat, selfish, greedy, crude - and lustful, just as her aunt and Agatha had warned her. Still her heart throbbed contentiously when she stepped through the disused door, wondering if her mysterious benefactor lurked here, buried beneath furniture, sheets and dust.
Hazy daylight filtered through translucent white curtains, the windows behind them dingy with smears of dirty age. Taking a deep breath, Audrey pushed between cramped pathways carved through the chamber, its wooden floor scratched and scored. Her footfalls left impressions deep in the dust, telling any who wished to ask that a nosy young chambermaid had traipsed her way into the mildewy confines of the locked room.
“Audrey! Come downstairs!” Agatha’s voice echoed. So entranced by the strange locked room was Audrey that she called back half-heartedly, distracted by a stack of colorful, floral-patterned round boxes ahead.
“I’ll be down in a moment, Ms. Agatha,” her voice trailed, full of an enraptured malaise. Stepping
sprightly over piles of boxes, she wove through the mess of dust and dirt and stuffy cabinets until she reached the circular boxes. She popped the top from one of them, coughing as waves of dust kicked up into her face. After the spell faded, she hurriedly dug into the contents, buried under layers of crumpled tissue.
Audrey could scarcely contain her elated surprise; stuffed away were layers of small drawings, paintings - and on top, most surprisingly, were some of those expensive new photographs, realistic drawings made by extravagant inventors using little boxes, which may well have been magic, as far as Audrey was concerned. She had heard whispers of them from the drunken travelers and Parisians who wandered into her aunt and uncle’s inn, but had never seen them before. Devices to capture and create these sorts of things would dwarf any amount of money she could hope to make in her life. Yet in these boxes lay piles of them - pictures of family, friends, by a lake front; amid the hills, with the regal estate in the distance. Audrey traced her fingers in shock along the images, stunned by how real they all looked - and how much it must’ve cost to hire someone to take them. She shuffled through the lot of them, hoping quietly in her heart to find some idea of the kind of man she worked for - her curiosity got the best of her, and with each photo she sorted through, she wondered if perhaps the face of these men - some cheery, some brooding; some handsome and young, some old and fetid - represented the visage of her employer.
“They’re fascinating, aren’t they?” A voice from behind startled Audrey, shocking a quiet and meek chirp from her lips; she let loose a handful of the images, tossing them precariously back into the box before her. She swallowed hard, terror cold in her every vein, frozen like a cat caught disobeying its master.
“You shouldn’t be in here, you know.” She felt the warmth emanating from the words; a man’s voice, a deep voice thrumming low and deep and enticing. She couldn’t speak at first, though the words bubbled slowly and incomprehensibly to her throat.
“I-I-I’m so... please, let me apologize, I—” a hand fell firm onto her shoulder, and she felt a strength pulling her backward. Spun on her heels, Audrey swallowed hard, her eyes wide when they fell upon the man whose voice rumbled in a sultry baritone through her ears.
“You must be the new maid that Agatha hired, yes?” he spoke so smoothly, so confidently; he knew every word he wanted to say. He knew how the world moved; he moved it himself. Tall and strong, clad in a custom-tailored suit stylish enough to dazzle Audrey’s mouth wide open, she couldn’t get over how... gorgeous, he was. Truly gorgeous. She had expected a slovenly, greedy and indulgent man, and instead her eyes fall upon young, powerful man with a chiseled jaw, rakish honey-blonde hair, a confident smirk and beaming baby-blue eyes, with skin a deep shade of glowering bronze. Virile stubble dotted his chin and cheeks, though he didn’t wear a beard, as Audrey had become so accustomed to seeing on men back in the city. She stood frozen in shock, and wonderment; she’d never seen a man quite like this, and it took the breath straight from her lungs.
“Do you know how you speak?” he chuckled. “I’m certain you’ve figured by now that I’m your employer - yes? Lord Bryce Parris, Duke of McClellan,” he imparted with a regal charm. He leaned in to kiss Audrey’s hand and her heart throbbed, nearly right from within in her chest, the lump in her throat too big to swallow.
“I-I’m sorr... sorry,” Audrey struggled, unsure whether she ought to be more afraid or stunned by the gorgeous man.
“Which part are you sorry for? Being unable to speak? Or perhaps about breaking and entering this particular room?” he smirked. “Or perhaps you’re sorry for gawking so shamelessly and impertinently at me, Miss Fisher?” he purred. Audrey blinked.
“I’m s... sorry, for... how did you know my name?” she stammered.
“Audrey Fisher. Do you think I allow just anyone to wander freely onto my estate, Ms. Fisher?” he retorted with brimming confidence. “Agatha told me all about you. I had to ensure you weren’t a spy embedded by any of my rivals, yes?” Audrey blinked.
“A sp-spy? Do you think I’m—”
“Perhaps you are,” Lord Parris smirked, his hand gently rubbing Audrey’s shoulder. She all at once became aware of the sensation of his palm on her dress and her body shuddered at the warmth. “That’d be quite exciting, wouldn’t it?”
“I’m... I’m not a s... spy, or... I’m sorry, y-your highness,” she murmured.
“Your highness? I’m not the king,” he laughed. “I could certainly be your king, though. If you wanted it,” he commented brashly, and while Audrey’s cheeks burst bright-red at the impropriety, something about it felt so inviting; so enticing. She steadied herself, remembering what Aunt Bette had said. She’d said it would be like his.
“L... Lord Parris, I apologize, for entering the room, for...”
“Perhaps you are a spy, hmm? You managed to pry that locked door open. Not a skill too many maidservants have, I’d assume. I’m watching you,” he whispered hotly into her ear, and he was - so shamelessly, he was. Audrey quivered like a leaf in the wind under the gorgeous man’s skewering gaze, his eyes so enticed by her every inch. She gulped, feeling so improper, but so right, at the same time.
“I w... worked for my aunt, at an inn, and our lodgers would often leave doors locked, or lock themselves out, or...” Audrey tried to explain herself, but her heart beat too hard for her to speak.
“I’m teasing, of course, Ms. Fisher. A blushing beauty like you would be the worst spy ever. Or perhaps the best,” he chuckled, honeyed, into her ear.
“There you are! Lord Parris, and—” Agatha stood in the doorway, her expression contorted in dismay. “...Ms. Audrey, together. In this room.”
“Your new maidservant has quite a few mystery talents, and a curious mind,” Lord Parris purred. “I like her.” Audrey swallowed hard, squirming in her slippers. He liked her? She didn’t know what to make of that, but it felt... nice.
“I’m certain you do, but it’s time for tea and an afternoon rest, so let’s go, yes, Audrey?” Agatha spoke sternly. “Meet me downstairs. Now, please,” she said, with the boisterous insistence of a school teacher.
“It sounds like you’re in trouble,” Lord Parris smirked playfully to Audrey.
“I didn’t mean...” her voice trailed off into a hesitant sigh.
“Don’t worry about Agatha. You should be worried about me, and the spanking I ought to give you,” he hummed so hot and so tense that Audrey’s body shook and her voice quivered loose a weak, uncontrolled moan. He strolled out of the room, head held high, chuckling quietly to himself, and Audrey nearly melted into the floorboards from how hot his words sizzled in the air.
“Remember what Aunt Bette told you,” Audrey said quietly to herself, trying to still her nerves.