So this was my FoxyFics charity piece, thanks to everyone who donated, and this is for everyone else to read :)
The Footman and the Maid
By missrebecca
Pairing: Jasper/Alice
Rated: T
Summary: A maid in one the largest houses on the street, Alice has lived in London her whole life. Seeing herself as both uneducated and uncouth, she believes no one will ever love her, that is until the new footman arrives. But he's keeping part of himself hidden, will she break through and find out his true identity?
The white linens were warm, pressed straight and piled high in the young woman's arms as she walked up the stairs. The wood creaked slightly beneath her feet, the house built long before she was even a thought in the back of her parents minds. It was a nice house, the sort she wished she could own some day, though she knew it was only pipe dreams. Her sort didn't live in grand town houses in the centre of London, but that didn't stop her from dreaming.
Dreaming of a handsome man who would take her away from her life of servitude, who would clothe her and feed her, and buy her tickets to the theatre. She would be treated like a lady should be, but she would never hire a maid, of that much she was sure. If she ever got out of this life, she would have a housekeeper, to help her keep her home tidy and presentable, but she would never hire a young girl to make beds and empty chamber pots. She would do it herself, after all it would be her house, wouldn't it?
Alas, these were all but dreams, fantasies that she knew would never come to fruition, no matter how much she wanted them to.
She walked quietly along the first floor of the large house, careful not to disturb her mistress. The lady of the house was one of high society, she spent her days holed up in her study, planning grand parties and social functions, so as to show off the impressive home she kept. The Master was in the town, where he worked as a lawyer for some of the most respectable people in the city, it was his income and the old money that came with the ladies dowry that allowed them to keep such an impressive house and extensive staff to cater to it.
"Mary." Her name was called in the quiet tone of her mistress, and for a second the young woman worried if perhaps she had been too loud. She knew not to keep her mistress waiting, however, and turned from her spot before the master bedroom and walked back to the lady's open office door.
"Yes Ma'am?" She asked quietly through the door. She was only to enter when asked.
"Do come in."
The door pushed open without the slightest creak at her back, as she worked her way into the plush office space. The walls were decorated in a pale pink paisley wallpaper, the floorboards polished to a high shine beneath the thick rugs. Rosalie Masen was sat, her dress pale to match the paper, cinched in tight to her small waist, and her fair hair pulled into an almost severe knot to the back of her head.
"The new footman shall be arriving a little earlier than first planned, direct him to his new living quarters, show him around and when Mrs Platt arrives direct him to her for instruction."
"Yes Ma'am." With a small curtsy, which was no mean feat while her arms were still piled with white sheets, she turned and left, leaving the door slightly ajar before continuing into the hallway.
The arrival of the new footman was all the house staff could talk of for the past week. The gentleman who had held the position previously had died, rather suddenly in his sleep, though the young woman had a feeling that Mrs Platt was behind it. It was no secret that she had once been lovers with the man, before he had run off with the young scullery maid.
She continued walking along the first floor, placing the linens in the cupboards in each bedroom, careful not to crease any of the sheets. Finally, her arms weak but empty, she turned to walk back down to the cellar, thinking of the new footman, and how unfair it was that it should be her who had to look after him.
She was supposed to have the afternoon off, which she would spend in the public house around the corner. It was her most favourite place to spend her time, talking to the other staff who worked in some of the other large houses on the street. There was a man there, who would always arrive close to closing, his shirt filthy and his face ruddy with dirt. She knew not what he did with his time, nor what his name was, but he always had the nicest things to say to her and she so wished to become better acquainted.
The cellar was dark when she entered, the lamps broken and the old candles not enough to light the whole place. But it was warm, and she could hear a lot of banging coming from the direction of the kitchen.
"Ah, Mary." She heard, as her feet barely touched the stone floor. The voice came from a portly gentleman, dressed in a white shirt and black suit. Mr Carlisle Cullen was the butler, and had been with the household almost since it was built. He had seen three families occupy the house, but he never spoke of the scandal that must have gone on. He was a nice man, but he insisted on calling the young woman Mary.
She hated her Christian name, and instead went by Alice, her middle name. She thought it was mischievous and much more interesting than Mary.
"Now," Mr Cullen continued, his perfectly manicured hands resting on his rotund middle, as he sat in his customary chair, "I know you're due the afternoon off, and I'm sure you'd like nothing more than to spend it down at The Dog, but Mrs Platt is running a little late, so it's up to you to show the new footman about the place. Can you do that?"
"'Course I can." Her tone was more petulant than she'd meant, but she simply hated being spoken to like a child. She was nineteen years old, she was hardly a babe anymore.
"Tea dear?" The kitchen doors swung open and out walked Ms Swan.
Ms Isabella Swan was a skinny woman, with dark brown hair that she always wore in a tight bun at the base of her neck, her heart shaped face was always flushed, either from embarrassment or from the heat of the kitchen, and she was the best cook Alice had ever met. Ms Swan was a widow, her husband having died of influenza some years ago, yet she was the sweetest person Alice knew, and was like her mother in every way but blood.
Ms. Swan didn't wait for Alice to answer before she was placing a cup and saucer before her, along with the porcelain tea pot and a small plate of sandwiches. Alice quickly tucked her short dark hair behind her ears and tucked in, as Ms Swan continued to speak.
"I wouldn't worry too much about the new footman, Alice. I've heard, though he's new at the position, he's quick to learn. I'm sure you'll have no bother off of him."
She certainly hoped not, the last thing she needed was to train someone who'd never worked in such a household before, though knowing her luck it would be up to her. Mrs Platt tended to give her all the worst jobs, emptying chamber pots for example, when the Masens had a perfectly good chamber maid for such tasks.
"When is he arriving?" Alice asked, picking at her chipped nails.
"Shouldn't be long now, he's due to arrive in about an hour, dear. Why don't you go outside, enjoy the sun?"
Alice nodded, finishing her tea before she walked slowly into the sun filled courtyard. The paved square was small, barely six feet across, but it was quiet once the door between the cellar and the outside was shut. Alice sat on the stone step, smoothing out her black maid's uniform, wishing she didn't have to stay. She hated wearing it, and would much prefer to be dressed in her usual wear. The footman had better not be a complete dunce; she thought for sure she would go mad if it were so.
The sky above her was blue, the sun shining brightly on her; it was a brilliant May day. Alice tilted her pale face up to the sky, basking in the rays pouring down to her and imagined she was far away from the bustling streets of London. She drowned out the sounds of horses in the street behind the wall, and the ladies gossiping on the corner, she ignored the faint smell of smoke and coal, the smell of London, and instead imagined herself breathing fresh air. With her eyes closed she could smell cut grass and clean air, she imagined running her hands through thigh high corn in a mile long field, or baking bread in a country kitchen, made of wood instead of steel. It was bliss, and she forgot all about her lost afternoon, and her duties to the household behind her.
That was until Mr Cullen popped his head out the door.
"Mary, the new footman has arrived, go let him in and show him to his quarters."
She sighed but nodded, hoping the new footman would kindly call her Alice, instead of Mary, and that he was younger than Mr Cullen. It would be nice having someone closer to her own age in the house. She walked through the cellar, running her hands over her skirt and pinafore, making sure both were straight, before pulling open the large wooden door, which was the servant's entrance, at the opposite end of the long room.
The man behind it was young certainly; he could only be but a few years older than her. He looked nervous, with wavy, dirty blond hair hanging to his chin, stood in an off white shirt and brown day jacket, staring at her through deep blue eyes as though he truly wished to be anywhere but there.
Alice was simply mesmerised, and while she realised it was incredibly rude for her to stare so long at a gentleman she didn't know, she couldn't seem to stop herself. He was devilishly handsome, almost too handsome to be a footman surely.
"M-Mr Whitlock. Ma'am," he stuttered, thrusting his hand in her direction, his eyes all in a panic.
"The name's Alice, Mr Whitlock. You'd be the new footman?" When he nodded she reached behind him to grab his bag. "You'd best be following me then. Keep up."
Alice didn't quite wait for him to enter the cellar and shut the door before she started up the staircase and into the main area of the house. Mrs Masen was always talking about putting in a servant's staircase, so they didn't have to walk through the main hallway, but it had yet to come to fruition. They crossed the marble hallway, the soles of their shoes echoing across the empty space.
She'd never encountered a man so handsome, and truly knew not what to do with herself about him. Alice's mind was spinning, imagining what she might say to him, were she brave enough to speak. Would he be kind? Would he smile at her? She wanted to know things about this man, what his name was and where he'd come from. He certainly hadn't sounded local in the cellar.
They traversed the stairs and turned left through an almost hidden door, which lead to the servants quarters. It was not nearly as lavishly decorated as the rest of the house, but it was generally warm and free of dirt, it was much better than her old home with her mother and sister had been. Here the floorboards were bare and dull, worn with age, and they creaked as they walked, their steps echoing monotonously off the pale walls.
Alice arrived at the door at the far end of the hallway, the door to the room directly opposite her own. She stopped so suddenly poor Mr Whitlock nearly ran into the back of her, muttering a quick apology as he righted himself.
"This is to be your room. I'm not entirely sure of the state of it, as I don't tend to our rooms, so don't expect it to be cleaned for you." She spoke sternly, regretting it instantly, what must she sound like? "Though I'm sure you knew that anyway. Mrs Platt should be arriving shortly, but until then I'll leave you to get settled, before giving you the grand tour."
Alice dared not to meet Mr Whitlock's eyes as she spoke, rattling off the information almost too quickly for him to catch. All she could think of was how close her sleeping quarters were to his, how he was barely a stones throw away.
"Well anyway, I'll let you get settled, I'll be across the hall when you're ready." She dipped slightly, before almost running into her room, slamming her back against the closed door. Had she really just curtsied him? Surely she was going out of her mind.
Sighing, Alice shook her head, pushing herself away from the door and over to her cracked and perpetually filthy vanity mirror. It was one of the only things she managed to save from her old home, her sister Cynthia took everything else with her when she married. She pushed and pulled at her thin, pale face, wishing her lips were plump like her mistresses or that she were a tad taller like Ms. Swan. Dropping back onto her heels she frowned into her reflection, the dull grey eyes staring back.
How could she even entertain the idea, that someone as handsome as Mr Whitlock would ever find her even the slightest bit pleasing to the eye? Though she wasn't ordinary, with her petite body and features, her jet black hair and pale eyes, she was by no means extraordinary, and certainly not the sort of girl a man should hope to marry. She had no money or real family, nothing in the way of skill, she was uneducated and uncouth, as her sister so often told her. Who would ever love her?
A knock at the door disrupted her from the spiralling thoughts, and she ran a hand through her thick hair as she walked to answer it. It was Mr Whitlock, looking bashfully at his toes as though they held the answers to all the worlds problems. Alice thought he was simply adorable.
"Are you ready Mr Whitlock?" She asked when it became apparent he was not going to initiate conversation.
"Y-yes," he stammered, finally turning those blue eyes to her own. If she wasn't careful, she knew she would become lost in their depths.
Alice nodded quickly before turning down the hall and beginning to point out which door encased the room belonging to which member of staff, Mr Whitlock never spoke, humming his acknowledgment as they drifted back into the main area of the house. They walked soft, careful not to disturb Mrs Masen in her study, and Alice spoke in a whisper, so that Mr Whitlock had to move incredibly close to her to hear.
"This is Mrs Masen's room, and opposite is Mr Masen's study. This is the water-closet, the bath is next door. The rest are spare bedrooms and storage."
Mr Whitlock nodded and together they descended into the sunlit entrance way.
"Behind that door is Lady Masen's parlour and living quarters, she's Mr Masen's mother, but she has her own staff." Alice pursed her lips; none of the staff liked Lady Masen, mostly because she was not a Lady, no matter how she liked being called as such. Her staff were also incredibly rude. Made up of two Indian gentlemen, they felt they were above the rest of them, simply because Lady Masen allowed them to dine with her.
"I sincerely doubt you'll see her much, she's very prominent in London society." And doesn't mind rubbing your nose in it.
"Here we have the parlour," Alice continued, crossing the hallway to a door next to the entrance to the cellar. "This is where Mr and Mrs Masen breakfast, the room next door is the lounge, where they spend their evenings. The dining room is opposite us, where they eat an evening meal at half past six every night."
Mr Whitlock's silence was beginning to unnerve Alice, she wondered if she'd spoken too much or maybe she hadn't been explaining things thoroughly, but in all honesty she didn't want to be there, no matter how handsome he was. She would still rather be at The Dog, or walking through the park.
"Is that okay? I'm sure Mrs Platt will explain your duties and everything better, you can go wait down in the cellar for her if you like, I'm sure she shan't be long."
Mr Whitlock nodded and headed off to the cellar, he walked tall, she noticed, shoulders pulled back and chest pushed out, holding his head high. It wasn't often you saw a young man with such wonderful posture, especially in a position such as his. She followed him down the stairs, quickly dispensing of her apron onto the hook with her name above it, before racing past the table and into the kitchen.
"Ms. Swan!" She called, smiling as her friends head popped up from where it had been checking on cakes in the oven.
"Alice, call me Isabella, you make me feel old otherwise." Alice smiled and nodded, she truly only did it to irk her friend, Isabella Swan was only a decade older than herself, and yet she was a widow already, it was so tremendously sad to think of.
"Have you seen Mr Whitlock?"
"I have, a fine young man he looks to be too."
"He's divine, isn't he?" Alice was gushing, she knew, as she threw herself upon the sturdy wooden table in the centre of the kitchen. She was grateful the door was closed; she would feel so embarrassed if Mr Whitlock heard any of this.
"Quite taken with the lad, aren't you, Alice?"
Her cheeks flushed from the look Ms Swan sent her, it was as though she knew all about the thoughts Alice had been having, stood with Mr Whitlock outside their bedrooms. Surely she shouldn't feel bad about being taken with him though? He was a handsome young man so who wouldn't be? Her lack of an answer however, was answer enough for Ms Swan.
"Dear Alice, don't let fear overtake you. If you find you enjoy his company, tell him, it's not as though he has to court you."
Alice frowned, knowing her friend was right. She was scared, scared no one would ever love her, and scared she would be stuck in this servant's life for all her days. She wanted to be free, truly free. She wished to be a lady of leisure, like her mistress, Mrs Masen, but unlike Mrs Masen Alice wouldn't sit inside all day. She would take walks, ride horses, paint or write outdoors. She couldn't imagine spending her whole life cooped up in some large mansion all by herself.
She didn't need some prince on a white horse, she just needed a man to take her away from the city, away from the noise and the smell and the people. She wanted a simple life, doing simple things; she didn't want to have to worry about how society would view her for doing what she wished.
But who was to say Mr Whitlock could give her all that? And who's to say, that even if he could, he would want her?
"That's true, it's not as though I have a father to please."
It was a thought that would make any other young woman saddened, knowing they had no parents to care for them, and while the loss of her mother still weighed heavily on her heart, she couldn't bring herself to care about her father. He hadn't been around much, and when he was he was violent, drunk and angry, and he would lash out with his hands and feet. His belt was the worst; Alice still had the scars to prove just how skilled he was with the buckled leather.
"Well anyway, I'm off for the afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow…Isabella."
Ms Swan smiled, throwing a dirty rag at Alice's retreating back, as she giggled and skipped her way out of the kitchen.
"Don't be out too late!" Ms Swan called, just as the door shut on her small friend's short curly hair. That girl would surely be the death of her.
Back in the cellar Alice was in high spirits, knowing she was finally able to go out; she simply needed to rush upstairs and change. Her eyes passed quickly over the scene before her, trying not to hover too long on the wide eyes of Mr Whitlock. He seemed to be getting some sort of lecture from Mrs Platt, there seemed to be a lot of finger wagging and haughty movements going on. Plus, from the look on Mr Cullen's face he was glad to not be on the receiving end of it.
"Mr Cullen!" She called, standing on tiptoes to be seen over Mrs Platt's hulking frame. Mr Whitlock turned his face towards her, his eyes pleading with her to save him, but there was nothing she could do. He was in Mrs Esme Platt's hands now and it wouldn't be till tomorrow that she would see him next.
"I'm off out," she continued, as Mr Cullen acknowledged her.
"The Dog?"
"Where else?"
With a bright smile on her face and a skip in her step Alice bounded back up the stairs, before walking quietly through the hallway, up the stairs, past Mrs Masen's study and through the hidden door into the servants' quarters. She was thinking of the limited number of clothes she had stashed in the ottoman at the end of her bed. She wanted to look good when she went to The Dog, she knew she would be passing through the cellar, and she wanted Mr Whitlock to see her at her best.
She rummaged through her trunk, finally settling on the floor length skirt that had once been her mother's and the pale pink silk blouse she had stolen off of her sister. Both had seen better days, but she knew she would stand out. No one wore silk in these parts except the Masters of the households. It was sure to get her noticed.
Unlike Mrs Masen she did not have a bodice to cinch in her waist, though she was naturally gifted with a small frame, she often wished she could afford one, simply to make her look much more regal and upper class. Once dressed she grabbed the red hot tong from the grate and re-curled her already curly hair, smoothed a hint of colour (she had stolen from Mrs Platt) over her lips and gave her self a once over in the dilapidated mirror.
Alice walked quickly back through the house and down to the cellar, constantly fidgeting and playing with her hair. She wondered if Mr Whitlock would find her attractive, if maybe she would catch his eye. Everyone always called her a flirt, and maybe she was, after all she was almost hoping to see the dirty gentleman from the pub tonight as well, but it wouldn't hurt if Mr Whitlock found her pleasing also.
"Do be careful now Mary," Mr Cullen called, as she bounced into the cellar.
"Of course I will." She skipped over to the table, grabbing a slice of toast from the elder gentleman's plate and kissing him softly on the skin of his head. He was so much like the father she'd wished her own could be, she wasn't quite sure what she'd do without him.
She stood by the table, her hand resting against it as she cocked her hip to the side, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as she looked out for Mr Whitlock; though it appeared he had left with Mrs Platt.
"Your young man's gone out." Alice turned towards the kitchen, to see Ms Swan smirking at her as she wiped her red hands on a dishcloth.
"Oh, Mr Whitlock you mean, I'm not sure why you'd think I'd care for his whereabouts."
Her statement simply got a shared look between Mr Cullen and Ms Swan, how typical! She couldn't get away with anything in this household.
"Well, anyhow, I'm going out. I've got my key, so don't wait up will you?"
With that she finished her toast and danced out into the night. Though it was seven in the evening the streets were still light, and the lamps had yet to be lit. All around her she could see women in fancy hats, going out for a night at the theatre or to a newly opened restaurant in town with their husbands, being driven around in cabs pulled by magnificent horses, with tailored footmen to help them down to the roadside.
Alice watched it all with wonder, though she'd seen it all her life, she couldn't help being entranced by the lifestyles of the wealthy people in town. None of these people, with their full skirts and tailored jackets, would be seen dead in somewhere like The Dog.
The pub in question was out of sight of the main road, hidden down a rather filthy alleyway. Alice always hated walking this way, where the buildings either side towered high, blocking out all light, and there was an incredibly pungent smell of urine.
The Dog stood at the end of the alley, backing onto the docks, there had been many a time when Alice had to be light on her feet, so as to avoid being pushed into the murky waters. It was an old pub, some say it had been there since the great fire that had tormented the opposite shore, either way it was an impressive sight, the lamps outside were lit, as they always were, to combat the oppressive darkness of the surrounding lane. The cobbled street sloped, and Alice gently picked up her skirts, to avoid the muck that was littered on the path to the large oak door. Inside it was warm, three fires raging in the three separate areas of the bar.
Jim, the Landlord stood in his once white shirt, cleaning glasses with a cloth she was sure had seen better days. As she entered and hopped onto one of the many tall stools around the bar, he smiled toothlessly at her, placing the smeared glass open ended on the bar and leaning forward.
"Haven't seen you in a while little Alice, they been keeping you busy up in that big house?"
"They always do, Jim."
She smiled, they did this all the time, in truth it had been only three days since she had last been in Jim's homely establishment, but he liked to play games.
"What can I get you then, darling?"
"Pint of bitter'll do me fine, Jim."
He smiled and turned to bend behind the bar, grabbing a thankfully clean glass from the cupboard behind him, before filling it from the taps on the bar. Alice rattled quickly through her purse, finding the few pennies she had stashed there before leaving the house.
"That'll be three pence there, my Alice."
She placed the coins on the bar and took her first glorious sip of the thick beer. It was just what she needed after a day's work. Alice knew she needed to put Mr Whitlock from her mind, it would not do to dwell on him, but it seemed she simply couldn't get the image of his blue eyes from her mind. The way they pierced her and held her interest, it was most astonishing how captivating he was. But that night she was not with Mr Whitlock, she was alone; silently hoping another gentleman would grace her with his presence.
Before too long her pint was half gone and the pub was filling up. Poor Jim was inundated with orders, and soon Jacob, his young apprentice had to come down from his studies to assist. Alice sat by the bar, smoothing her skirt constantly as she kept an eye out for the gentleman she had seen before. She was in the perfect place of course, and was sure to see him as soon as he entered.
As she continued drinking, and he had yet to show his face, she was getting ready to give up and go home, when she heard the door open once again. She promised herself this would be the last time she looked to see if it was him, the last time. Imagine her shock when she turned and came face to face with the tall man, his dirty blond hair pulled back from his face by a long strand of leather.
His shirt was filthy, covered in God only knows what, and his trousers were tucked into mud coated boots, but Alice was entranced by the twinkle in his brown eyes and the smirk playing at his pink lips.
"Pint please, Jim," he said, his voice gruff and deep. It sent shivers through her, and any lingering thoughts of Mr Whitlock were quickly thrown out.
The man, whose name Alice still did not know, sat down at the bar; turning his body towards her as his pint glass was placed before him. He didn't pay, and Jim didn't ask for anything, as his brown eyes pierced hers.
"I've seen you around."
Alice nodded her throat constricting as she tried to work out what to say, what could she say? She wanted to seem mature, sophisticated, but she was afraid that anything she did say would simply come across as uneducated and limp.
"What's your name little one?"
"Alice."
"Alice…pretty name. I'm James," he smiled and held his hand out for her to take, which she did after first wiping her damp palm on her skirt.
After the awkward introductions they continued to talk. She learned he worked on the docks, in the ironworks constructing ships, which was why he was always so filthy. He was older than her, by five years, but it didn't put her off, after all she tended to like older men. James continued to buy her drinks throughout the night, their laughter growing louder and more carefree as the night wore on, until Jim decided that his little Alice had had enough.
Late into the night they tumbled from the pub, Alice clutching tightly to James' waistcoat in a vain attempt to stay upright, though it wasn't working very well. She wasn't sure she'd ever drank so much in her life, and she knew she would be ill the following morning.
Her thoughts were disjointed as she walked with James through the deserted alley, watching the rats scuttle along the walls into the sewers. He was saying something, but she truly couldn't hear him, not that she was trying to, the stars were oh so bright above her, and for some reason she found them endlessly fascinating.
The brick was hard behind her head, and it took her a moment to realise she had stopped walking and James was pressed up against her. Her head was splitting from where it had hit the cold brick, and his weight was oppressive against her chest. She could barely breathe as his lips attacked her neck. Alice wondered when she had ever consented to this, and through her bleary thoughts she was sure she never had. She was not one to kiss a man after their first meeting; she had a little more sense than that.
Her hands were weak, her arms limp and disjointed as she pushed against his shoulders, slurring at him to stop. Couldn't he see that she didn't want him to do this? And yet his hand was against her chest, resting beneath her bosom as his other wrapped around the side of her neck. Her heart was pounding as her breaths came in gasps, her pushes were sharp now against his shoulders, and the voice in her head was screaming at her to do something more.
"James!" She called, attempting to get his attention. Why wasn't he listening? "No, James, stop. Please, stop!"
When his hand moved from her bosom, and began to pull her skirt up she truly began to panic. She didn't want this, she didn't ask for this. Why was he doing this to her? How stupid was it of her to get drunk with a stranger! She had no strength, as she attempted to hit him and kick him, each of her attempts missing their mark, but she refused to give up. Her mouth opened and she screamed, long and high and she thought for sure he would relent in his attack, but alas it was not to be. His large hand clamped tightly over her mouth, cutting off the scream as her head connecting sharply once more with the brick.
Alice began to sob, her tears running heavily down her face as he laughed, rubbing himself into her, showing her how much he enjoyed her tears. She could barely believe this was happening to her, when all of a sudden James' oppressing presence was gone, replaced with the sounds of knuckles against flesh.
She opened her eyes and gasped as the sight before her. It was Mr Whitlock, his knees on either side of James as he thrust his fist into James' face over and over and over again. The sound was wet, dull as the blood pooled from James' face into the dirty street until finally Alice could take no more, and knew if Mr Whitlock killed a man it would mean trouble for both of them.
"Mr Whitlock, no!" She wrapped her hands tight around his arm, his momentum carrying her forward until she was on her knees beside James' limp form.
"Alice, move."
"No! You'll hurt yourself, and he's not worth it."
"He was-Alice, he was forcing himself onto you, believe me he is worth it."
"No, no he's not. Let's just leave him, I don't wish to be here anymore."
She bit her lip as she watched him consider his options, finally though, his blue eyes cleared of their malicious look and he stood, helping Alice up at the same time.
"Come on, I'll walk you home."
"Thank you." They walked in silence, his arm wrapped tightly around her small frame. Alice couldn't stop counting her lucky stars that Mr Whitlock had saved her, she didn't dare think about what was about to happen if he hadn't been there to protect her. Though she thought it a little odd that he was out so late, in an unknown town nonetheless. It was such a change in him though, he had seemed so nervous earlier when she had given him a tour of the house and yet he had just been ready to kill a man while defending her honour.
Yet Alice couldn't keep her thoughts on Mr Whitlock for too long, before it went wandering back to that alley, and to the bleeding man they had left in it. To the feeling of him against her and his hand against her mouth. She just knew it would bruise, and how was she to hide such a bruise across her face and neck?
"Tell me about yourself, Alice," Mr Whitlock said, breaking the silence and breaking Alice away from her thoughts.
"There's not a lot to tell."
"Well there must be something." His brow furrowed as he looked at her, confused by the girl before him, but Alice wasn't sure what to say. She had done very little in her short life, and was bound to do not a lot more for the rest of it.
"There truly isn't. I've led an incredibly uninteresting life Mr Whitlock-"
"Call me Jasper."
"Jasper." The name felt foreign on her tongue, but in such a delightful way she couldn't mind it. It was such an interesting name to go with such a mysterious man. "I was born and raised in London, I have one sister I no longer speak to and both my parents are dead. I work and that's about it. I can tell you a lot more about the people we work with than about myself."
"Well then, tell me about them."
She bit her lip once again, and noticed how his blue eyes dropped down to her mouth before returning to the path before them. Did it annoy him when she did that? She hoped not, as it was somewhat of a nervous habit of hers, and she was likely to do it often in his presence. She was grateful for his calming presence, and for his want to keep her talking. Talking about other people would allow her to keep her mind from that dark alleyway.
"It's going to sound like such horrible gossip, though."
"Is it gossip?"
"Somewhat, but everyone knows, so it's not as though it matters."
"Certainly not, so tell me."
Alice took a deep breath, trying to think of what would be the best thing to start with. It would sound like gossip, she knew it would, but she couldn't help that she was interested in other people's business; she simply hated not knowing what was going on.
"Mr Cullen is in love with Mrs Platt." She smiled at his shocked expression, it was just what she needed to steer the conversation away from her, and keep her mind occupied.
"But, isn't she married?"
"Oh no, her husband died a long time ago, she simply thinks it uncouth for a woman her age to not be seen to be married."
"I see…"
"It is a little odd, you can say it if you think it, I won't mind."
"Well, it's just, she's so strict and he seems so…mellow."
Alice laughed, lightening some of the tightness she had felt in her chest since Jasper had saved her in the alleyway.
"You couldn't have put it any better, that's exactly right. But I suppose love conquers all, correct?"
"It must. What else then?"
"If I tell you this, you have to promise not to mention it, ever. Everyone in the house knows, but you mustn't speak of it. Do you understand me?"
"Of course." He looked so solemn and sincere, Alice knew she could trust him. After all, he would be working with them and would discover the truth on his own soon enough.
"Mr Masen and Mrs Masen are having affairs."
"What?"
"Edward Masen is having an affair with Ms Swan, the cook, and Rosalie Masen is having an affair with their gardener, we're not sure of his name."
"B-but, Ms Swan?"
"You can think what you like, everyone has their own opinions. Mrs Platt refuses to be more than civil to poor Isabella, whereas Mr Cullen couldn't care less."
"But, if they're both being unfaithful, why stay together at all? And do they know of their spouse's infidelity?"
It was a good question, and Alice thought over how best to word it as they neared the steps down to the servant's entrance. She was amazed at how quick the walk had gone, but people always did say that time flies when you're having fun.
"The truth is they're more comfortable together than they would be apart. Together they are wealthy, separate, who knows? And we're not entirely sure if Mr Masen knows, but of course, Rosalie Masen knows all about Ms Swan, she knows everything that goes on in her household."
Poor Jasper looked gob smacked, but did he really think there would be no scandal going on in such a household as the Masen's? It was one of the biggest on the street, and certainly held the most prominent people, but maybe he didn't know that yet. Either way, Alice was sure it wouldn't take long for him to work it out himself.
They walked quietly through the household, being careful to avoid the especially creaky fifth stair, before easing themselves behind the hidden door and down the corridor to their rooms.
"Well, goodnight, Jasper. And thank you again, for being there. I don't like to think of what could-"
"No thanks necessary, Alice."
He smiled and waved as she entered her room, closing the door and resting her forehead against it. There was no denying it; she was inexplicably attracted to the new footman.
For six weeks Alice and Jasper worked tirelessly side by side, Alice cleaning rooms while Jasper worked the Masens' carriage. Their evenings were spent together, either by the fire in the cellar or in The Dog. He would never allow her to walk alone again, which she was grateful for.
After the night she was saved, she awoke after a restless sleep to find large blue bruises on her neck, with more slight green ones, in the suspicious shape of a hand over her mouth. She was not quite sure what to do about them, though she supposed if she managed to stay out of the way of Mr and Mrs Masen everything would be okay.
She dressed carefully, her muscles aching and her head sore. Her hair was left in limp natural curls and she had large dark circles beneath her eyes, looking at herself in her dusty mirror she hoped Mrs Masen wouldn't be having guests over.
Alice walked slowly, head down, towards the cellar, simply dreading what everyone would say when they saw her, and thankfully she was the first there, besides Ms Swan in the kitchen. She wrapped her pinafore around her waist, her shoulders aching, and she bit back the wince, she only hoped as the day wore on her poor muscles would ease up. Realising that it was only a matter of time before someone saw her, she decided to simply bite the bullet and walked into the kitchen, standing quietly by the table as she watched Isabella dancing before the large stove. Finally she turned, wiping her wispy brown hair from her forehead as she did, a smile began to cover her face before she gasped in shock as her eyes took in the angry purple bruises over Alice's small face.
"What happened?" Ms Swan exclaimed, dropping the wash cloth and running towards her, wrapping her damp hands around Alice's small face as she slammed to a stop before her.
"I got into a little trouble last night."
"Who did this?" Ms Swans eyes were ablaze, her thoughts filled with shock and anger that someone would do anything to hurt sweet little Alice.
"Just some man."
"He didn't-" Isabella began, her eyes guarded, biting her lip.
"No. Jasper saved me before that could happen."
"Jasper?"
"Mr Whitlock."
After that there wasn't anything that could stop Isabella's questions, she simply needed to know everything that had gone on between them, and Alice was happy to oblige her. The night had calmed her, if only a small amount and she was finally able to realise just how lucky she had been, and relished in the fact that Jasper had saved her.
In the following weeks she managed to put the whole experience from her mind, though when she crawled into bed after another long day hard at work she would always go back to that alleyway, and how scared she had felt in that moment. It was getting easier however, and she was sleeping for longer. The bruises vanished and her muscles became loose, no one ever spoke of her experience and she managed to avoid her master and mistress until the bruises had completely vanished.
At night she would sit with Jasper, and listen to the wireless, or listen to him tell tales of his life in the country. Riding horses with his friends, chasing girls around farmland, cow tipping, something Alice had no experience with at all, and she could barely imagine how it came about.
As the weeks wore on and they became more comfortable together as they shared couches and the step behind the kitchen, personal space became a thing of the past and the attraction between them became almost palpable in the air. And each night they would stand outside their bedrooms, Alice biting her lip and Jasper twisting his hands together, murmuring goodnight and hoping the other had a nice sleep, but neither doing or saying what they truly wished.
One morning, on a bright summer day, Alice skipped out of her room delighted because finally she and Jasper had the afternoon off together. She planned to take him into town, and show him the cake shop her Aunt had owned once upon a time. She was so excited and couldn't contain herself as she knocked swiftly on his door, opening it without waiting for an answer.
What she saw shocked her, utterly and completely. She had walked in on Jasper getting changed before, and had, more than once, seen him almost completely nude, but nothing had shocked her so much before.
Jasper was stood in his room, straightening his tie, drawers pulled open at random around him and his suitcase half full before him. He ran a nervous hand through his hair before turning wary blue eyes to her, standing shocked, hand over her mouth, in the doorway. She was confused, though she knew what this meant, she couldn't seem to figure out why he would be leaving. Why hadn't he told her?
"Jasper?"
"I've tendered my resignation."
"I can see that."
There wasn't much more to say, and Alice wasn't sure what to do. She thought they were getting along well, she thought maybe they had something. For the first time in her life she felt maybe she deserved happiness, maybe she deserved the future she wanted. Maybe it wouldn't have been some grand house in the country, but she knew she could be anywhere and happy with Jasper.
Suddenly he was before her, smelling of cinnamon and his blue eyes crazed. His hair stood on end and for a moment Alice was almost scared, she had never seen him so wild and fevered. He stroked a soft hand down her face, cupping the side of her neck and resting his forehead against hers.
"Come with me." Her gasp filled the quiet space, and she stepped back, pulling herself away from him. She wouldn't be able to think clearly if he kept touching her like that.
"Excuse me?"
"Come with me."
"I heard you, I just don't understand what you mean. How can I possibly come with you? Come with you where?"
"To my home."
She shook her head in shock, mouth hanging open as she spun in a confused one-eighty. This couldn't be happening, he couldn't be asking her to leave with him, to God only knows where.
"Why are you even leaving?"
"I have to go." He didn't look apologetic, and she wondered if he'd always planned to do this, to leave her after six weeks, after so little time. Maybe he hadn't planned to meet her, maybe he hadn't planned for a girl to fall in love with him, but that had happened and now he was leaving, and Alice was suddenly thrown for a loop.
"I don't…w-why?"
"I just do, but please Alice. Come with me."
"What will we do?" She was panicking, a touch of hysteria in her tone. She didn't want to believe that this was happening, that he was asking her to leave with him, and that he was offering to take her away from this life.
He didn't speak for a while, and she wondered if he'd even heard her, though how he couldn't in the silent room she didn't know. He seemed to be thinking, and the way his hands fidgeted together showed her just how nervous he was about this.
"Get married."
"Get married?" She almost shouted and she was sure everyone in the house could hear her, but it was a shock. Was that supposed to be a proposal? In a dusty old room in her employer's house. "How do you propose to keep me exactly? It's not as though you make a lot of money."
"I won't ever keep you. But you need not worry about expenses." His voice had turned cold, defensive, she was taking too long to agree to this, but she simply couldn't blindly step in to something like this.
"I can't…I can't do this right now." With that said she ran from the room, racing through the hallways and across the large entrance hall. Lady Masen shouted, demanding she stop, but Alice wasn't listening, she couldn't listen, not when her whole life could be changing so suddenly.
She thundered into the cellar, ignoring the alarmed looks from Mrs Platt and Mr Cullen and kept running until she was through the kitchen doors, where she started to pace and didn't stop until Ms Swan grabbed her by her shoulders and demanded to be told what was wrong.
"He's leaving." Ms Swan's face crumbled and she wrapped her arms tight around her small friend's shoulders.
"I know sweetheart, it'll be okay though."
"No, you don't understand. He's leaving, and he's asked me to join him."
Isabella frowned, turning back to the table and beginning to chop the carrots for the Masen's evening meal.
"So why are you here?"
"Well I can't go with him, surely? I have no money, he has no money! How will we live? Where will we live? He says he wants to marry me!"
"Then marry him!"
It was all Alice wanted, these weeks had been simply divine and had shown her just what she wanted from her life. She wanted Jasper, even if he was as poor as she, even if she had to leave this town, which had been the only home she'd known, she simply wanted to be with him. And yet, now the chance was here, she was terrified of leaving, of taking a chance on this amazing opportunity.
"But-"
"No Alice. No more buts, no more what if's. Just go, be happy. For me?"
Alice bit her lip, wrapping her hands into her pinafore.
"I've been incredibly foolish, haven't I?"
"Yes, and if I were you I'd catch that man before he leaves."
Alice launched herself at Ms Swan, thanking her over and over for her succinct advice; it was all she really needed. She knew she would miss her, and everyone else she worked with, but she couldn't imagine just letting Jasper walk away from that house, she couldn't let herself be left behind.
"Mr Cullen!" She called, running back through the cellar. "I'm leaving."
"Thought she might be," he mumbled, smiling up into Mrs Platt's hazel eyes.
"Jasper!" She called as she ran back upstairs. "Jasper, I'm sorry, I'll come with you!" But she received no answer, his room was empty, the drawers and wardrobe thrown open and everything cast out. Was she too late?
No, she wouldn't allow herself to be. He couldn't have gone far, and she was sure he had no money to get a cab as far as he was surely going. Surely he would be getting a train. She ran into her room, emptying her drawers into her own battered suitcase, laying her mirror onto the top, not even looking back as she buckled the straps and dragged it with her down the stairs.
She raced out of the main doors, smiling slightly for not using the servants' entrance. Her feet slipped on the damp cobbles, and she looked up to the sky, into the voluminous dark clouds gathering above her. She would have to run if she didn't want to get wet.
The journey to the station was a blur of people, shoulders bashing into hers, people shouting at her to get off the roads, out of the way of the cabs. But she couldn't stop, not when she might miss him, not when she needed to see him and go with him. Her bag was heavy and it swung sharply against her legs, but she didn't stop, not even when she fell, her palms scraping harshly against the ground, she didn't stop.
Finally she heard the shout and whistles of the station, and she ran through the entrance, looking everywhere for him. Why hadn't he told her where he was from? He could be going anywhere. But then she realised, for all her misfortune, there was only one train in the station. So there was only one possible place he could be.
Alice ran on unsteady legs to the train, noticing all the doors were shut with no one boarded, so he had to be on the platform somewhere. Her eyes scoured the area, looking for that familiar disarray of blond hair, her heart pounding and body aching, her lungs screaming at her to breathe deeper. Until finally, finally she saw him, sitting on his suitcase, with his hands behind his bent head. She didn't need to see his face to know it was him, she would know him anywhere.
Her bag was left by the platform and she rocketed herself up and threw herself into him, knocking them both to the platform floor as she apologised over and over again.
"I was so stupid Jasper, so stupid; of course I want to marry you!"
He didn't say anything, just looked up at her shocked, as though disbelieving that she was really there.
"I don't have any money, and I'm afraid I'm frightfully uneducated in all matters. But I know I'll be a good wife, and I'd love to come with you back to your home."
"Alice, what-"
"I couldn't let you go!" Tears were flowing freely down her face as she imagined how she could have lost him, she never lost hope that she would find him until she got him, and realised just how late she could have been.
"Say you'll still have me?"
Then he smiled, sitting them up and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Of course I'll still have you, you dopey mare."
Alice thought her face would surely split into two she was smiling so much, but she knew she'd never been so happy in her life. She couldn't imagine letting go of him now, and she couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the fact that she was leaving, that she was being taken away to a better life in the country.
"Ahem." A voice startled them from their quiet staring, and they turned with guilty faces to see the be-speckled conductor, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he looked upon them. "You'll be wanting to be on this train, I suppose?" They nodded. "Well, you best be getting up then."
Then he walked away, leaving them to scramble to their feet. Jasper held eagerly to Alice's hand as they waked back over to her bag and made their way to the open carriage door.
"Oh!" Alice exclaimed, letting go of Jaspers hand in her shock.
"What is it?"
"I don't have a ticket, and I have no money for one!" She couldn't believe she'd been so foolish to not grab any of her savings from under the loose floor board before she left. She had simply been so excited to see him, to leave with him, she hadn't given much of a thought to how she would afford to.
"Silly Alice," Jasper began, retaking her hand and leading her onto the train. "I have two of course."
Their bags stowed on the rack above their heads they sat in their carriage, watching London fall behind them. Alice wasn't sure if she would miss it or not, an awful lot had happened to her in that city, but she couldn't say she would miss the smells or the filth. Certainly she would miss the people she'd met, Ms Swan mostly, but she knew she was heading to somewhere better.
Alice fell asleep eventually, her head on Jasper's shoulder, and dreamed of wide open fields and earth tracks. Of farm houses and cows, cooking her own food and growing her own vegetables. She imagined blonde haired children with grey eyes like her own, she dreamed of growing old with the wonderful man beside her, and knew she would never tire of him.
Finally they arrived at their destination, just as the summer sun was setting in the sky, it had been a long journey, but Alice was glad she slept, though she was a little groggy as she nearly fell off the train.
"Where are we?" She asked, realising she still didn't know where he lived.
"Somerset."
"You live in Somerset?" Jasper nodded, taking her hand and leading her to a rather fine carriage waiting near by. It was being pulled by two dappled grey ponies, and a finely dressed footman was stood by the door, ready to help her inside. She had never been treated so well in her life.
It was a bumpy ride to Jasper's home, but Alice didn't mind. She had never ridden in such a nice cab before, and she wondered if maybe Jasper had more money than she'd first thought. They didn't speak as they travelled, Jasper allowing Alice to take in the scenery in silence. It was a truly magnificent place, they passed few houses, though those they passed were cottages with quant thatched roofs. They passed fields full of black and white dairy cows, horses running wild and plump sheep. It was even better than she imagined it would be.
When they stopped she wasn't entirely sure what to expect, some time back they had passed through large wrought iron gates, as though entering into some high class estate. There had been expansive lawns as far as she could see and she was beginning to wonder what an earth they were doing there. The tailored footman opened the door for Jasper, their bags were left in the coach and he grabbed on tight to her waist, hoisting her out of the coach to the sound of her excited squeals.
"Jasper, where are we?"
They were stood in the curving driveway to a rather impressive house. It was double fronted, made of pale stone with four large columns highlighting the imposing oak door. There were three stories, underneath the slate roof, it was more than she'd ever known and she simply couldn't imagine why they had stopped here.
"Why are we here?" She asked again, when she'd still received no answer. Jasper was stood, once again twiddling his thumbs together, looking at her nervously.
"Alice, this is my home."
"Excuse me?"
"I live here."
Alice frowned, not quite understanding what he was saying.
"I thought you'd never worked anywhere before the house in London?"
"I haven't."
"So how can you live here?"
"Jasper!" Their conversation was cut short by a shout from a dark haired man strolling around the side of the house, arm in arm with a beautiful woman. Both had hair that was almost jet black, and their skin had a healthy glow Alice assumed one got from living out in the clear country air.
"Peter," he called back. "That's my brother and his wife Charlotte."
Once again Alice frowned. "So this is his home?"
"No, Alice, this is my home."
And then it sunk in, Jasper was rich. He hadn't worked before coming to London because he didn't have to, but she couldn't work out why he hadn't told her, and why he spent six weeks working as a lowly footman, being shouted at by Mr Masen when he wasn't on time and getting an ear full from Mrs Platt whenever he slept in.
But his brother was getting closer, and Alice knew there would be no time for questions until they were inside.
"Jasper! You survived the city, and you brought a friend back." Though his hair was dark, his eyes were the exact same shade of blue as Jaspers. The woman next to him had a soft smile, and understanding eyes.
"This is Alice." She smiled shyly, not wanting to seem rude but truly wishing to be anywhere but there. She needed to speak to Jasper alone, to find out why he'd essentially lied to her, why he had hidden such a large part of himself.
"Did he ever tell you how he ended up down there?" Or maybe she wouldn't have to wait so long.
"No actually, he didn't."
"Lost a bet didn't he! Never been to London in his life, so what else could we do with him. Nine weeks down there, surviving without any money, 'course we all bet on how long he'd last, I only reckoned a week before he came crawling back."
Peter was laughing while Jasper went pink in the face, and Alice's mind suddenly felt a lot clearer about the whole thing. Though she still wondered why he hadn't told her about his fortune, she now understood why he was there in the first place.
"Anyway, there'll be plenty of time to get acquainted later, I should get Alice settled."
Alice allowed herself to be led into the house, staring in awe at the enormous marble entranceway, a large crystal chandelier hung ominously above her as they traversed the stairs. Jasper led her into a high ceilinged room, painted white with an enormous bed in the centre. There was no doubt that this was to be her room, and yet she'd never seen something so big. The whole house she shared with her mother and sister could have fit in that one room.
Jasper placed her suitcase at the end of the bed, and then stood; shuffling his feet waiting for her to ask the questions he knew she wished to know.
"Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"I wanted to Alice, but I didn't want it to define me. I didn't earn this money, it simply came from my father and good investments, everyone here knows just who I am. In London no one knew me, I could just be Jasper."
"You could have told me. You should have trusted me."
"I know I should have. But I didn't, and I can't change that, so please don't let this change anything. Please say you'll stay with me?"
Then she laughed, at how silly this man could be. How could she leave him, when she was so completely in love with him.
"I'll stay with you, on one condition."
"Yes, anything." She smiled, biting her lip knowing he liked it, and walked slowly towards him placing her hands on his shoulders.
"Kiss me."
She barely saw his smile before his lips were against hers. It was only her second kiss, and she was so glad Jasper didn't bend to social conventions, after all, a kiss like this would never be allowed between two people who were unmarried. His lips were soft, teasing, and his tongue was like silk as it swept across her lips, before slipping inside them. It was the most sensual thing she had ever experienced, and she knew she could never leave him. That she would be in that place for the rest of her life.
When he pulled back his eyes were clouded, glazed with lust and happiness.
"Show me the rest of the house," she said, taking his hand and spinning her way out of the room and into her new life with Jasper.
Let me know what you think please :)