AN: It took me longer than expected to write this chapter, but let me assure all of you that I won't abandon this story; I'm just a very slow writer. :) Also, because I have been asked a few times, I can assure you that this story will definitely have a Happy Ending for C/B.
Much love to my awesome beta Robin, who took the time to edit this despite having a rather stressful week, and to all those who have read and reviewed. You are all very much appreciated. Also, a big thanks to Tati for her love for this story and her obnoxiousness ;). And last, but not least, thanks to sk280 for her lovely message.
IV. Scarlet Clover
As Blair awoke the next morning, a dim yellow light fought its way through a crack in the bulky curtains. She heard the clear sounds of several birds outside her windows, muffled slightly by the thick velvety fabric. Since no footsteps or rattling dishes could be heard, she surmised that it must still be early. Blair tried to stretch her stiff limbs carefully, which were still sore from last night's long and cold walk back home. Her left arm hit a hard, cold object, and she jumped a little at the unexpected sensation. As she turned her head to look at the item, the events of the night splashed down on her like an icy bucket of water. Crisp memories of iron rods, moving door handles and twisting canes swamped her head. She closed her eyes once more to clear her thoughts; however, dark, fathomless eyes gazed at her from behind her eyelids.
Swiftly, she scrambled out of bed to draw the curtains and open the windows. A clean, cool breeze filled the stuffy room and her lungs. Timid sunrays were only just beginning to appear at the horizon, the grass in the orchard still dark and glistening from the night's rain. The old mill, despite being bathed in the awakening light of the day, refused to appear anything but gloomy. Black sooty lines ran down the remaining walls, the roof slashed open like a mangled carcass.
Again she felt the deep urge to explore the fallen structures and their secrets. Realizing that most servants were still asleep and that the Master would probably not be up before noon, she quickly rushed to her dressing room to comb out her hair and twist it into a tight bun at her neck.
Hastily, she gathered her corset from the chair where she had hung it to dry and tried to tie it around her body. When she pulled the strings tighter, a slow, burning pain spread from her stomach to her chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment. Blair gritted her teeth heavily, letting the pain ebb away from her in uneven tides. She knew that the corset and the heavy fabric of her dresses were slowing the healing process, but she feared that without them she would break apart at the gashing fissure in her body. Carefully, she slid into a plain blue linen dress, hissing through her teeth as she bent down to button her shoes.
After returning the iron rod from her bed to its place next to the mantelpiece, she retrieved the room key from its hiding spot under her mattress. Before opening the door, she listened intently for any sounds coming from the corridor. She just hoped that Mr. Baizen hadn't fallen asleep on her threshold last night. Cracking the door open slightly, her gaze swept the carpeted floor for any signs of a body. As everything appeared to be quiet and peaceful, she hastily made her way past Mr. Baizen's room towards the blinding white staircase. She took two steps at a time, almost losing her balance when a creaking noise behind her made her turn her head. Yet, as no steps approached, she continued her way to the back entrance in the kitchen, which had served her so well the night before.
Opening the small door, a light breeze moved the skirt of her dress. Standing within the light of the still pale, red-tinged sun, smelling the sparkling air and damp earth, she felt as free and alive as she hadn't in a very long time. A small smile flitted across her face as she walked across the dewy grass to the looming remains of the mill, which appeared to be less threatening the closer the stepped.
She entered the rotten building cautiously through the blackened frames of what had once been a door, the stinging smell of stale smoke rising to her nostrils. The ground was covered with charred wood and splintered glass, the remaining façade crumbling under the pressure of the elements. Mossy grass had already begun to smother the grey stones, forlorn dandelions twinkling among the piles of dusty rubble. Absentmindedly, she ran her hand along the low walls as she moved through the silent space, feeling her fingers disturb the thick layers of grime. Her feet tripped over a soft object, causing her to look down. A deep feeling of sadness and horror surged through her as she recognized a singed leather shoe on the ground, two large dung beetles scurrying from it in fear.
The faint sound of clanging pans pulled her from her thoughts. She suspected that the servants must have started their work in the kitchen, preparing the breakfast for the Master and planning the dinner for the return of their Mistress. Quickly, she exited the old mill to avoid being seen. Before stepping into the kitchen, she took a deep breath to compose herself, rubbing her hands together to clean her dirty fingers. Just as she wanted to turn the knob, the door swung open rapidly, revealing a tired looking Vanessa. Her eyes narrowed in surprise; she scrutinized Blair's face and the gardens closely as if she suspected someone to be hiding in the bushes.
"What are you doing out here this early, Miss?" she asked, not even trying to veil her contempt.
"I was just out for a walk," Blair replied with ease, having used that excuse on various occasions with her own governess when she had snuck out to meet Serena.
"At this time?" Vanessa prodded, her eyes still flickering suspiciously.
"Yes," Blair said flippantly, "now, I'd appreciate it if you brought my breakfast up to my room." She tried to squeeze past the maid into the kitchen. "And I don't want my eggs overcooked."
"I'm not your servant, Miss," Vanessa snapped, refusing to make room for Blair to pass.
"I'm sure it will be more gratifying than emptying chamber pots," Blair seethed, all but pushing the obnoxious maid aside with her elbow.
Squeezing herself though the narrow archway into the kitchen, she instantly wanted to flee when found herself face to face with Mr. Baizen. He was leaning on the wall next to the swinging door on the far side of the room, his arms crossed lazily over his chest. Quiet panic rose inside of her as she noticed that the knuckles on his right hand were purple and bloodied, her mind flashing back to last night and the terrorizing sounds at her door. She swiveled around to leave the room through the entryway she had just used, but bumped right into Vanessa, who had already closed the door to the garden and was now blocking it with her body. Blair threw her a murderous glare; yet, the maid only smiled smugly, refusing to leave her post.
Blair turned back to face Mr. Baizen, who had apparently watched the silent war between the two women with slight amusement. His lips were crooked into a mischievous grin, but his eyes were relentless and frozen. She cleared her throat with annoyance while her eyes searched the kitchen for some kind of escape or weapon. Realizing that no other person was in the room beside herself, Mr. Baizen, and Vanessa, her gaze finally fell on a long knife lying on a small wooden table to her right.
She heard Mr. Baizen chuckle. "Don't even think about that, Miss Waldorf."
Her eyes moved back to look at him. He had taken a few steps towards her and was shaking his head in mocking disapproval. "I just want to talk to you." He sighed loudly. "About where you were last night."
A numbing sensation travelled through her body as she forced her face to remain calm and disinterested. "I was here, in my room, of course."
With swift steps he crossed the room towards her, his expression having lost all of its softness. Hastily, she took a few steps to the side, reaching for the knife, but his hard hands yanked at her elbow before she could grasp it. He pulled her flush against his body, his fingers piercing her flesh forcefully. Her eyes shot up to glare at him, refusing to let him see the fear churning inside of her.
"You can go now, Vanessa," he said to the servant, "but make sure that no one interrupts us." His blue eyes gleamed coldly as he smiled down at Blair, gripping her arms so tightly that she almost fainted.
Blair turned her head slightly and saw that Vanessa's gaze flashed uncertainly at the scene before her, apparently unsure of what to do. She caught the servant's eyes for a fleeting moment, silently pleading for her help. However, Vanessa averted her face quickly, directing her step towards the swinging door without looking back.
Blair stared at the closing door dazedly, only hearing the repeated thuds as it slowly came to a halt. She couldn't think of anything but the searing grip of Mr. Baizen's fingers and his hot breath as he bent down towards her neck. She forced herself to focus on the smoky steam rising from a pan on the stove, the sounds of eggs crashing into each other in a pot with boiling water, the dim streams of sunlight hitting the marble floor from a small window above the wooden table; anything that would keep her mind from apprehending what was surely going to happen. As she felt his wet lips press against her exposed neck, she squeezed her eyes together tightly, willing her mind to find an escape. A moist cloth swept a line down the column of her throat, bile rising inside of her as she recognized it as Mr. Baizen's tongue.
She tried to wiggle her arms from his grasp, only serving to make him hold on to her harder, pushing her against the locked door behind them violently. She trashed her head from side to side in an attempt to keep his mouth from going further; however, in retaliation he grasped her chin angrily with one hand, forcing his mouth onto her lips.
A strangled cry left her throat as she continued to struggle against him, searching to kick his shins with her feet. He groaned slightly when she landed a heavy blow against his right leg with the hard tip of her shoes. Yet, it was not enough to make him let go. He pressed his body firmly against hers, wedging his knee between her thighs and grasping her slender wrists with a punishing grip to stop her assaults.
"Why must you fight so hard, Blair?" he asked in a raspy voice close to her ear, biting her earlobe painfully until she was sure he had drawn blood. "I know you were at The Lion last night, although your disguise was good, I must admit."
Blair's eyes shot up to look at his face, which now hovered before her, a leering grin stretching his features, his gaze wandering to her plump lips. "No, I wasn't," she said adamantly, believing that he was only testing her.
He let out a long, annoyed sigh. "Miss Waldorf, do you think I'm an imbecile?" His voice was laced with cold anger as he pushed his knee further up between her legs.
She stared at him challengingly, not wanting to yield to his power without a fight. "I hope that was a rhetorical question, Mr. Baizen, because you might not like my answer."
He smirked tensely. "Your blonde friend, lovely as she might be, is not one for keeping thoughts to herself. She told me all about her old childhood friend, who just came to town to be a governess." He bent down to brush his mouth against hers. Blair pressed her lips together tightly, which he greeted with a low chuckle.
"I never knew for certain that it was you, but then I saw you last night in the club with that blind fool. Your friend even told me that the cloak in her room belonged to her governess friend, who had just visited her that night." He grasped both her wrist in one of his large hands, freeing his other hand to trace her throat with his fingers as if searching for the right spot to squeeze the air out of her windpipe.
Blair swallowed tightly, her head swimming with anger at Serena's carelessness and black despair at her current predicament.
"What do you want from me?" she asked meekly.
He chuckled darkly once more. "I thought that much was clear, Miss Waldorf." His free hand traveled down her collarbone until it reached her linen-clad chest, rubbing his palm over one of her breast deftly, ensuring that she could feel his touch through her corset. "I want the same courtesy that you apparently extended to my dear friend Mr. Bass last night."
She shook her head determinedly, wanting to defend herself although she knew it wouldn't discourage him, "I didn't – "
"Don't even try to deny it. I saw how he held your hand, how possessive he was of you. And as your employer I think have even more rights to your services than he."
With a swift motion of his head, he pressed his lips against hers insistently. His mouth moved with bruising force, his teeth biting down on her bottom lip, trying to get her to respond.
Attempting to ignore the burning pain on her lips and wrists, Blair squeezed her eyes shut, grinding her teeth together roughly. Despite her efforts, she noticed his hand sliding down her body to her stomach. He gripped her waist tightly, pushing his thumb into her wound. She winced heavily, a small gasp escaping her lips, which he took as an invitation to invade her mouth with his tongue. She bit down on it sharply, hoping it would distract him enough to release her. However, he only growled in pain, drawing his head back quickly, but did not soften his grip on her wrists or the pressure of his body. She sensed the fabric of her dress being hunched up to her hip by his fingers, his breath thick and uneven against her neck.
"Father?"
Blair's eyes flew open quickly, her hands and body released from their prison as Mr. Baizen swirled around to meet the familiar voice.
Margaret's clear eyes darted between her father and Blair, her small hand still pressed tightly to the open swing door. Blair could see a swirl of emotion flit over the girl's face, before finally setting her mouth into a determined line, erasing all the features of an innocent child.
Blair took a slow step towards the girl, trying not to spook her. "Margaret, what you have just seen, is not what it looks like." She shot Mr. Baizen a questioning look, hoping he would step in to reassure his daughter, but he only kept watching her with curious eyes.
"It looked like you were kissing Father, Miss Waldorf," Margaret said pertly, turning around quickly and letting the door fall shut behind her. Blair could hear her hurried steps reverberating through the marble front hall and corridors.
Heavy silence fell over the room, only interrupted by the heavy thuds of the still moving door.
"I suspect that my wife has returned early from her journey, and that you will lose your position as soon as Margaret tells her what she saw," Mr. Baizen remarked in a dispassionate tone. "Pity. You were by far my favorite governess."
Blair turned to face him, staring at him with contempt. She tried to school her features into a mask of indifference, while her mind raced with images of how she could kill him in the most painful way.
Suddenly, she heard the door open slowly, and as she turned her head she saw that Vanessa had entered, her eyes darting nervously in Mr. Baizen's direction before settling on Blair.
"Lady Baizen wishes to see you immediately in the drawing room, Miss Waldorf," the maid said in a self-satisfied manner.
Blair just nodded tiredly, moving past Vanessa to leave the room.
"You will no longer work here after today, Vanessa," Mr. Baizen said in a stern and cutting voice. "You failed in your loyalties towards you Master, and I'm sure my wife will agree with me on that."
As Blair pushed the door open tentatively, she heard Vanessa gasp behind her. "But Mr. Baizen, when your wife arrived, I had to –"
"Get out of my sight now and pack your things, Miss Abrams," he commanded icily, before she heard him unbolt the door to the garden roughly, slamming it shut behind him.
Blair tried to ignore the small whimpers following her as she exited the kitchen and crossed the entrance hall with deliberate steps. When she turned the corner to the adjacent corridor, she noticed that the drawing room door stood wide open, casting a rectangular sunny shadow onto the floor and the opposite wall. She approached it slowly, steeling herself for the lady's anger.
She entered the room carefully, immediately spotting Lady Baizen's dark form in front of the window, milky light casting a simmering halo around her. Her back was turned to Blair, her coal-black hair piled up high on her head like a crown.
"Miss Waldorf, please close the door," Lady Baizen said in an eerily composed voice. Blair almost wished she would throw one of her beloved flower arrangements at her; everything would be more bearable than this stifling tranquility.
She closed the door loudly, hoping to snap the other woman from her trance. "Lady Baizen, you wanted to speak to me?" She thought it best to confront the tension head-on instead of stepping around it for another hour.
Uncomfortable silence spread over the room as Lady Baizen tilted her head slightly to look at Blair from the corner of her eye, her silhouette a sharp shadow against the illuminated window. "It came to my attention that you engaged in inappropriate behavior with my husband," she said slowly. "How will you defend yourself against that?"
"I know that you don't think very highly of me, Lady Baizen, but I wasn't at fault in what Margaret saw," Blair said pleadingly. Fear quelled up inside of her at the very real possibility of losing her position.
She heard Lady Baizen scoff slightly. "You mean to imply then that it was my husband's fault?"
Blair opened her mouth to answer, but thought better of it, unsure of what to say without changing her situation for the worse. A thick lump formed in her throat, and she wished that she could start this day all over again. If she had only stayed in her room for longer, if she hadn't felt to urge to explore those wretched ruins, she'd be safe.
Lady Baizen finally turned around to face her, her gaze flickering to the red marks on Blair's wrist though her expression remained stony and unmoving. "I know my husband well enough to guess his role in this scenario, Miss Waldorf," she said without empathy, "but you have to leave this house today, for the sake of my reputation and yours."
A small, humorless laugh escaped Blair. "My reputation?" she asked in disbelief, her voice rising. "Surely, you must have guessed that I'm already a fallen woman, Lady Baizen. If I lose this employment, I have nothing."
Lady Baizen regarded her with cold, but solemn eyes. "At least your dignity will still be intact." Deliberately, she turned back towards the window, signaling that the conversation had come to an end.
"I'll have one of the servants take you to town in a cart, Miss Waldorf," Lady Baizen said quietly, "that's all I can do for you."
Blair could only stare at the woman across the room as a deep sense of helplessness flooded her body. She wanted to shake her, beseech her to reconsider her decision; however, her pride forbade it. Hot tears rose to her eyes as she finally turned to open the door.
"I warned you, Miss Waldorf," Lady Baizen called to her, but Blair did not look back as she entered the hallway and closed the door behind her.
As if walking through heavy sand, she made her way towards her room, every step pulling her down to an unknown future. Servants passed her on the steps, but she could see nothing except murky black and white swirls. Finally reaching her door, she fumbled with the key clumsily until the lock sprang open.
She walked straight towards the travelling trunk next to her bed, but standing before it, she couldn't find the strength to open it. Silent tears ran down her face as millions of thoughts fought for dominance in her head; yet, none would linger long enough for her to grasp it and spin it into a plan.
Suddenly, a small, cold hand slipped into hers, and with shock she realized that it was Kathy's. Apparently, she had sneaked into her room without her noticing. She tried to wipe the tears from her face quickly so the girl wouldn't see them.
"Are you crying because of me?" Kathy asked in a quiet and unsure voice. Blair looked down at their intertwined hands before her gaze fell onto the child's concerned features. Her forehead was wrinkled into a frown, her blue eyes searching Blair's questioningly.
Blair pulled her lips into a smile while kneeling down on the plush carpet in front of Kathy. "Of course not, little one." She stroked the child's soft cheek with her knuckles in reassurance. "Never because of you. I'm crying because I have to leave today, Kathy."
Kathy's eyes widened, swiftly twisting out of Blair's reach. She walked over to her favorite spot at the window, staring at the blackened ruins below, which were now fully bathed in the morning sun.
Blair followed the petite girl and crouched down beside her cautiously, searching her brain for comforting words. She would have liked to tell Kathy the truth, but knew that it would only serve to alienate the child from her parents further. "I have to visit a sick aunt in Ireland," Blair lied, her voice cracking slightly. "She is very sick, so I might not come back for a while." She turned her head to look at Kathy's profile, to see if she had heard her. Although the pale girl was still facing the window like a statue, her eyes flitted back and forth between the ruins and Blair repeatedly.
"Do you understand that, Kathy?" Blair prodded, hoping that this fabricated story would make it easier on the child to let her go. And if she was honest with herself, it made it easier to accept for her as well; if she forced herself to believe her own lie, the truth would lose its sting.
Kathy nodded and turned fully towards Blair, giving her a timid smile. Blair almost wanted to pull her into a hug, assure her that everything would be fine, but she knew that it would make Kathy uncomfortable. Instead, she settled on stroking the girl's thick black hair, like she had done on their first day together.
"You can help me pack my trunk, if you like?" Blair suggested with a lightheartedness she did not feel, nudging Kathy's nose playfully. The girl's eyes lit up for a short moment, before she spun around, heading for the wardrobe.
When Blair looked up, she found Jenny hovering before the door, wringing her hands nervously. "Miss, Lady Baizen sent me up to see if you might need help?"
"Thank you, Jenny," Blair replied warmly, acknowledging Lady Baizen's gesture, "you can gather my things from the dressing room."
Jenny cast down her eyes as she crossed the room with haste, but stopped abruptly next to Blair. She lifted her eyes to meet Blair's with a steady gaze. "I'm so sorry, Miss," she said in a sincere voice.
Despite hearing the genuineness in the maid's tone, Blair found it unbearable to be pitied, especially by someone of lower rank. "Let's not talk about it anymore, Jenny," she bit out coolly, cutting off the conversation. Apparently, Jenny understood her request, quickly walking towards the other room to busy herself with the toiletries.
Blair tried to aim her attention on Kathy's failing efforts to store all of her heavy silk gowns into the wooden trunk. Most of the dresses now lay in a rainbow colored heap on the floor, where Kathy was attempting to fold the expensive fabric, her small tongue sticking out in concentration.
"Make sure to fold the sleeves in first, Kathy, and try to avoid sharp creases," she tried to guide the girl's efforts gently, not wanting to deny her this last shared activity.
With trepidation Blair watched them pile her wardrobe and necessities into her trunk, her uneasiness growing as Jenny hailed one of the male servants to carry it outside and store it on the waiting horse cart. Blair took a deep breath as she looked around the bedroom to see if she had forgotten anything, trying to ignore what lay ahead. She couldn't believe that after everything her future now looked more uncertain than ever.
She grabbed her bonnet from the bed, while reaching for Kathy's hand, not turning back as they exited the room and made their way down the white stairs, which emitted an almost unearthly blinding glow in the midday sun.
Despite the plentitude of servants being employed by the Baizens, not a single human sound reverberated through the halls, the summer heat seemingly having stifled all activity. As Blair opened the front door, the cacophony of chirping grills from the surrounding meadow was almost deafening, beads of sweat forming on her forehead as the scorching air hit her skin. The cart and its driver were already waiting for her in front of the house, the horse pawing the ground with its front hoofs impatiently.
She bent down towards Kathy, who was still clinging to her hand. With her free arm, Blair pulled out her room key from her dress and placed it in between Kathy's fingers, attempting to encourage the child to let go of her. The little girl grasped the object tightly and raised her eyes to Blair in question. "Give that to you mother, little one." Kathy's gaze fixated on the key in her hand for a moment before nodding warily.
Blair let her right hand glide over the child's hair one final time, before placing a soft goodbye kiss on her cheek. As she pulled away she saw that Kathy's eyes had filled with tears. Once more Blair forced her lips into a reassuring smile, trying to ignore the aching lump in her throat.
She quickly spun around, walking towards the cart in hurried steps. Blair willed herself to stare straight ahead when it finally pulled away from the mansion, busying herself with tying her bonnet under her chin. Although focusing her attention on the burning sensation of the sun on her knees and the slight breeze cooling her face as the cart slowly made its way down the hill, she found it difficult to ban the image of Kathy under the towering marble pillars from her mind. She tried to occupy her thoughts by what her next step should be, where she should go, and as the town, buried under a hazy film of white smoke, came into view, she knew that Serena would know what to do.
As the cart finally came to a halt before the tavern, Blair was faced with the most terrible deja-vu; this time, however, the town square was deserted and the only sound echoing from the surrounding houses were the sharp snorts from the horse. She watched as the driver unloaded her trunk hastily, obviously avoiding her gaze. Blair would have almost thought it comical if it weren't for the fact that even a mere stable boy was now deeming himself above her.
"Would you be so kind as to bring my luggage into The Lion, boy," Blair said with icy sweetness, leaving no room for disagreement.
He looked at her uncertainly for a moment, before caving in and hauling the heavy box towards the entrance door. Pushing it open slightly, he dropped the trunk unceremoniously on the threshold. Unfazed, he returned to his seat on the cart, clicking his tongue loudly until the horse fell into a lazy trot.
Furious, Blair stomped towards the door, attempting to climb over the trunk in a dignified manner without tearing her frock. As soon as she had managed to enter the stuffy bar room, the familiar stench of sweat and alcohol assaulted her nostrils, the warm breeze from the open door offering only small relief. With discomfort she noticed that loose tendrils of hair had attached themselves to the sweaty skin on her neck and that her corset now clung to the moisture at the small of her back.
A sole customer was hunched over an empty glass, longingly staring at the filled shelf behind the bar. Murky sunlight filled the dusty room, illuminating the dark stains and broken shards of glass on the wooden floor boards.
Arthur was leaning against one corner of the counter, holding up a newspaper; his old eyes twinkled merrily as he recognized her. "Lass! You can't seem to get enough of us, do you?" he said teasingly. "Perhaps, I can convince you to work here after all?"
Blair smiled wryly. "I need to see Serena, Sir. I need her help." She gave him a pleading look, hoping that her female charm would convince him to ask no further questions.
Nonetheless, his eyes wandered to the spot where her trunk was still wrenched between the door and its frame. "Did the old dragon kick you out, child?" he asked in a warm but worried tone.
"That is none of your concern, Sir," Blair snapped disdainfully. "Could I please see Serena now?"
He glanced at her curiously for a moment, his gaze concerned. "You know the way, just go on up." He nodded in the direction of the stairwell. "I will keep an eye on your luggage for you, Miss."
"Thank you," Blair said, straightening her spine. Marching across the room, she tried to step around the litter on the floor and the drunk, filthy man at the bar with as much grace as possible, taking care not to touch anything inadvertently. As she passed him, he turned his face towards her slowly, giving her a dopey smile that revealed his rotting, brown teeth. She pressed her lips together tightly, and quickly made her way up the narrow steps to the upper floor.
Standing in front of Serena's closed door, she started to knock on it timidly. When nothing happened, she banged her knuckles against the wood more forcefully. To her relief, she soon heard a slight shuffle behind the door. As it was finally unbolted, Blair almost had to laugh at Serena's appearance; she had clearly just peeled herself out of bed. Her blond hair was in wild disarray and her eyes barely open as she tried to adjust them to the dim light of the hallway. "Blair?" she croaked.
"I need to talk to you, S," Blair said firmly.
"Now?" Serena rasped incredulously.
"I lost my position and now I don't know what to do," Blair explained dryly.
Serena's eyes widened as she processed her friend's words. Dazedly, she stepped aside to let Blair into her room. Thick, blue curtains had been drawn across the open window to block out the daylight and the heat. Still, the air was pungent and stale, causing Blair to cross the room hastily and pull the drapes aside. Immediately, a fresh gust of wind filled the close space. "That's better," Blair sighed, turning back around to face Serena, who had sat down on the large bed, her feet tucked under a yellow blanket.
"What happened?" Serena asked with an uneasy look on her face. "Did someone find out about last night?" Her voice grew smaller with each word, almost as if she was afraid of the answer.
Blair closed the distance between them, taking a seat next to Serena on the edge of the bed. "There is something you need to know about your patron, S.," she started hesitatingly, searching her friend's eyes. "He is also my employer, Mr. Baizen."
Serena stared at her in shock, shaking her head slightly. "I don't understand," she whispered, "how did he know –"
"Apparently, you told him all about your governess friend coming to visit you," she interrupted with a bitter edge to her voice. "So, when he saw me last night, it wasn't very hard for him to connect the dots."
"I didn't mean to …," Serena trailed off, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket at her feet. "He was so nice and charming," she continued apologetically.
Blair regarded her friend thoughtfully, laying her hand on Serena's thigh as a peace offering. "Promise me you won't see him anymore, S."
Immediately, Serena's head shot up, eyeing Blair with confusion. "Why?" she asked curtly before continuing in a softer tone, "I'm sorry that you lost your position, Blair, I really am. But I need his money."
Blair took a deep breath, pulling her hand from Serena's leg. "This morning he tried to force himself on me." Her voice wavered slightly as she lowered her eyes with shame. She knew that Serena would never judge or condemn her, but she couldn't help but feel demeaned and embarrassed by what had almost happened.
She felt her friend's gaze bore into the side of her head. "Are you all right, B.?" she prodded in a gentle whisper.
Blair nodded, meticulously picking lint from her dress until Serena placed her hand over hers, stilling her movements.
"Did you at least kick him in his nether regions?" Serena asked in a heated voice.
"I tried," Blair replied with a small smirk.
"Good," Serena said with satisfaction, "because otherwise I'd have done it tonight."
"So, you won't …?"
"No, he will no longer be welcome in my bed," Serena said determinedly. "I'm sure there are plenty of other men who'd want to sleep with me, right?" she giggled, nudging Blair's ribs with her elbow.
Blair rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a laugh bubbling up from her throat. It almost felt as if they were girls again, concocting silly plans and schemes in her bedroom. They sat in comfortable silence for several moments, Serena resting her head on Blair's shoulder.
"I don't know what I'm going to do now S.," Blair confessed, "I have nowhere to go."
Serena grasped Blair's hand tightly. "Maybe you could write to my mother. I'm sure she could find you a new position. You know she has quite a lot of acquaintances."
"Maybe." Blair replied hesitatingly, knowing that she had no other choice but to prevail on Lily's kindness once more.
Suddenly, Serena jumped to her feet, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Or … you could stay here with me and work at The Lion. That would be so much fun, B.!"
Blair let out an incredulous laugh. "Have you gone mad, Serena? I'd rather work in one of those dreadful cotton mills than become a whore."
"I know that, Blair," Serena huffed angrily, "but I'm sure Martha could find a more decent employment for you." She turned on her heels quickly and stormed towards the door. "In fact, I'll go ask her right now. Wait here."
"Serena, no," Blair cried, but her blonde mane had already disappeared into the hallway.
Blair lay back on the bed and sighed deeply, the heat having drained her of all the energy to stop Serena's quest. She closed her eyes, listening to the deep, humming silence outside the window.
Soon enough, hurried steps echoed through the corridor, prompting Blair to sit up slowly and straighten her hair. As Serena entered the room with Martha in tow, she rose up from the bed hurriedly, not wanting to grant the stout women an advantage over her, even if it was only in height.
In broad daylight, the lady's face looked tired and sallow; however, her gown still exposed more of her body than it covered. The upper buttons of her bodice hung open, revealing a dirty white corset and a sheen of sweat in the crease between her breasts; the dark sleeves of her dress had been rolled up to her elbows and were apparently soaked with water.
"Serena here tells me that you are looking for a job? Did the Master already have his fair share of you and kick you out?" Martha said gruffly, her gaze flickering to the marks on Blair's wrists.
Immediately, Blair's eyes flew to meet Serena's in a silent reproach.
"I had to tell her," Serena whispered, shrugging her shoulders.
Blair returned her attention to the older women, refusing to be intimidated by her knowing stare. "Yes, something like that."
Martha's gaze swept her body once more, assessing her unabashedly. "I suppose I can't interest you in putting your figure to good use with one of our patrons?"
"No," Blair replied with conviction, "I'll do everything … except that."
"Shame." Martha shrugged her shoulders in acquiescence. "But, I could use a new chamber maid for the girls' rooms. I had to dismiss our old one because she has gotten herself pregnant by one of our patrons," she said, grimacing slightly.
Blair nodded, contemplating the offer. She knew that the position would require her to do chores beyond unthinkable for a well-bred girl, something that she had taunted Vanessa for just this morning.
"How much salary?" she asked briskly, not bothering with politeness, now that she found herself bargaining for a job that would push her down to the level of stable boys and footmen.
The other woman chuckled, her bosom moving heavily in her corset. "You are quite a mercenary girl," she said, her eyes dancing with mirth before her features settled into a stern expression. "£ 2 per year, including room and board."
"£ 4 per year, including room and board," Blair countered quickly, "and I might be convinced to not inform Serena's mother, who has quite a lot of influential friends by the way, where she is." She watched with pleasure as Martha paled considerably. "Because if I did, she would get this establishment shut down immediately." She gave the lady a sweet smile before turning her attention to Serena, "Wouldn't you agree, S.?"
Serena's crestfallen face told Blair that she wouldn't be easily forgiven for using her friend's family as leverage; still, she chose to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in her chest, and extended her hand to Martha instead. "Deal?"
She hesitated a moment, her gaze flickering between the two girls before grasping Blair's hand roughly. "Deal," she bit out, "but I hope you realize how much you owe your blonde friend here."
"I do," Blair replied softly, hoping that it would appease Serena until they could talk in private. However, when she heard her friend scoff sharply, she refrained from searching out her blue eyes.
Immediately, Martha started dragging her out of the room behind her, pulling her hand harshly. "Come, lass, I will show you everything and then you can start right away."
As they hurried to the other end of the muggy corridor, she worried briefly that she went too far this time in using Serena's family history for her own gain. However, they had known each other since childhood and there was no reason for Serena to hold a grudge now, especially when Blair was in such a precarious situation. Still, an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach at the thought of having alienated her only remaining ally for good.
They stopped before a narrow door, looking as if it had been built by a one-handed carpenter. The wood panels were arranged in odd angels, leaving gaping holes that allowed a glimpse at the darkness behind it. Since the door had no handle or knob, Martha just pushed it open with a slight nudge, revealing another set of steep stairs that led to a spacious but dimly-lit attic.
"You'll find your bed and everything you need up there," Martha gestured towards the stairs. "I know you're from one of these well-to-do families in the South and are used to sleeping in silken sheets from the colonies, so this might be a bit of a change for you."
Blair smiled tightly, trying to swallow her pride and be thankful for not having to starve on the streets. As she took in the crooked, worn-in steps and moldy smell of rotting wood, her gaze fell once more to the makeshift door. She worried her bottom lip nervously, imagining how easy it would be for one of these drunken, depraved men to mistake it for a privy.
"Can I lock the door from inside?"
The older woman eyed her curiously. "Yes, there is a bolt, but if you ever think about inviting a man up there –"
"Understood," Blair responded swiftly.
Martha nodded, seemingly pleased. "You'll also find all of your work utensils stored up there. You will need to change the sheets in the girls' rooms each day and make sure that their chambers are presentable for the men," she droned on in a lecturing voice. "Then, you'll need to cook out the sheets in the back kitchen downstairs and help me prepare the food for the girls."
Although Blair's body filled with unease and disgust at the thought of having to touch bed linens coated with who knows what, she fought to keep her expression bored and disinterested, as if she had done these atrocious things all her life.
"Well, if you don't have any more questions, honey, you can start with the girls' rooms. Thomas will bring up your trunk later so you can get settled," Martha said impatiently.
Blair shook her head numbly, moving to climb the stairs to the attic to retrieve the necessary equipment.
"And, lass?" Martha called after Blair. "The chamber pots are part of the cleaning too," she said in a smug tone, apparently hoping to jolt her.
Even though her stomach tightened with revulsion, Blair tried to appear unfazed by the jab. At least she didn't have to feel guilty now for asking for more money; no self-respecting person would deign to do these chores without a proper incentive. Maybe she could try and advertise in the newspaper for a new governess position; living and working in this wretched town for a year, let alone the rest of her life seemed unimaginable.
The stairs creaked loudly as she made her way to upper landing, feeling the air around her turn unbearably stifling with every step. A small curtain-less window illuminated the room, allowing no breeze to enter it. Blair sighed heavily as she examined the worn-down, but comfortable looking bed and the antique dresser, adorned with a small, framed mirror. The only straight wall in the room was lined with various shelves, stacked with white linen, battered baskets, wooden buckets, and dozens of dirty rags and brooms.
Blair filled one of the more sturdy-looking baskets with as many clean sheets as possible since she had no desire to climb the steps to the attic once more. Furthermore, she grabbed two of the empty buckets and some of the cleaner rags from the shelf before hauling her supplies to the corridor below.
Taking one of the buckets, she went to the ground floor in search of the back kitchen that Martha had mentioned earlier. Luckily, she ran into Thomas on the stairs, who was more than happy to show her around the kitchen and storage area, even hinting at where to find the outhouse while blushing profusely. Moreover, with a few well-played smiles, she got him to carry the bucket filled with hot water up the stairs for her.
Breathing deeply, she finally knocked on one of the closed doors. She could have started with Serena's room, but wasn't sure whether she wanted to see her at the moment. Thus, she thought it best to give them both a little more time to unwind.
After a long moment, a young red-haired girl, clad only in a pink chemise, opened the door. She scanned Blair with unveiled distaste, her eyes lingering on her now matted hair and crumpled, grimy dress. Self-consciously, Blair attempted to straighten the wrinkles in her gown, while fighting to hold the impertinent girl's gaze, refusing to be intimidated.
"I'm the new maid," Blair tried to explain her presence.
"I can see that," the freckled red-head replied snidely, moving to the side to let her pass.
Entering the room, Blair almost laughed at seeing that the room had been decorated with a suffocating amount of pale pink pillows, curtains and rugs, giving the it appearance of a sickeningly sweet cream tart. "How old are you?" Blair couldn't help but ask with a small sneer.
"Sixteen, why?" the girl snapped.
Immediately, Blair felt bile rise in her throat at the thought that this child was already sleeping with men thrice her age, when she herself hadn't even been aware of more improper acts than open-mouthed kisses at the same stage of her life.
"Just curious," Blair answered gently, turning to the bed to busy herself with the sheets. She felt the girl study her movements, while she attempted to pull the linens from the bed with as much poise as possible. Touching only the edges of the fabric, she stuffed the soiled sheet into an empty basket, trying not to grimace.
"The chamber pot is under the bed," the girl pointed out, having reclined onto a pink chaise by the window.
Blair gave her a painful smile, holding her breath as she crouched down to retrieve the porcelain vessel. With swift movements she dumped its contents into one of her buckets, rinsing it with some hot water.
When she was done, she quickly carried the buckets and basket into the corridor, closing the door behind her swiftly. Exhausted, she leaned against the nearest wall, closing her eyes to compose herself and obliterate the humiliating experience from her memory.
"Rough day?" a familiar voice penetrated the solitude.
She opened her eyes to see Serena looking at her with concern from the far side of the hallway. Blair nodded slightly, sending her friend a grateful smile, which she returned almost timidly.
"You can do my room next, if you want," Serena offered.
"With pleasure," Blair replied wryly, but grateful that she wouldn't have to empty a stranger's chamber pot for the next half hour.
Over the afternoon, her cleaning skills became faster and more efficient, though she still hadn't finished the last room when the sun began to set, bathing the chambers in an orange glow. She heard the low rustle and murmurs in the hallway as the girls began to prepare for the night, often gathering in one room to help each other.
Blair was just trying to wrestle the last white sheet onto a mattress when she felt a presence behind her. She turned her head, letting the linen sink to the bed as she saw Martha study her from the open door.
"One of our customers has asked about a new girl that worked here last night." Blair felt heat rise to her cheeks in uncomfortable waves. "Apparently, she had long, soft, curly, brown hair," Martha carried on in an irritated tone.
"I haven't seen her," Blair said, schooling her features into a bored expression. Lazily, she turned to continue straightening the sheets.
"Don't toy with me, girl," Martha said sternly, reminding Blair once more of her mother, "Serena has all but admitted that she took you downstairs last night."
Blair cursed under her breath at her friend's inability to lie.
"I warned you about these men," Martha said.
Blair could feel the old lady's eyes burn into her back, but she refused to face her.
"He wants to speak to you, and he is willing to pay a handsome sum of extra money. So I'm afraid you'll have to go, honey." Blair heard Martha walk into the room, stopping behind her.
Blair huffed loudly. "He is blind. Can't you send another girl?"
Suddenly, she felt a strong hand grip her arm, forcing her to finally turn around. Martha's thick fingers grasped her chin deftly, causing Blair to let out an involuntary whimper.
"He said he would know if it wasn't you," Martha said gently while her fingernails dug into Blair's skin. "I'm not losing all that money because of your airs and graces, child. I'm a businesswoman first."
"I'm not a whore," Blair hissed, wrenching the other woman's hand from her face forcefully.
Martha laughed loudly. "I'm not asking you to lay with him. He only wants to talk to you." She eyed Blair curiously. "You must have made quite an impression."
"What if I'm not going down there?" Despite already knowing what Martha's answer would be, she still hoped for some female compassion from the other woman.
"You may have some power over me, child, but as long as you live under my roof you'll do as I say, or I will make your and your friend's life quite miserable." Martha raised her fleshy hand to pat Blair's hair in a comforting gesture. However, she jerked her head away indignantly, not wanting to be pitied by a brothel owner.
"Fine," she snapped, already stomping past Martha, refusing to make any changes to her appearance just to spite her.
"He is sitting in one of the secluded booths, the first one on the right," she heard Martha call after her as she walked down the corridor towards the stairs.
Pulling the red velvet curtain at the base of the stairs to the side, a thick wall of smoky air and heavy piano music hit her body forcefully. She knew that she would never get used to the smell of tobacco, alcohol and sweet perfume that permeated the room, no matter how many years she'd have to work here. She wrangled her way through the throngs of intertwined couples, trying to remain invisible for any gentleman on the prowl for new girls. As she finally reached the booth in question, she stopped for a moment to compose herself. Yet, the haze made it impossible to hold on to a clear thought.
Like the doors and stairwells, the booths were separated from the rest of the room with heavy velvet curtains, used to allow its occupants some privacy. Blair had heard from Serena that you never knew what to expect behind a curtain; apparently the illicit activities ranged from private dances and high-risk card games to sexual acts involving more than two partners. Shuddering, Blair slipped through the opening between the soft fabric as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw attention to herself.
He sat on the other side of the small compartment on an invitingly plush settee; the light from two candelabras tinged the space in an unworldly red glow. Much like last night his left hand gripped his black cane tightly, though the nervous twisting was gone. His other hand held a glass filled with a murky liquid, which he set down on a low table in front of him the moment he noticed her entrance. He stared in her direction expectantly, and she wondered if he really knew that it was her.
"So, you are mute again tonight," he said, a smirk forming on his face, almost reaching his dark eyes.
She took a small step towards him, but stopped immediately when she saw that he was rising from his seat with slow, measured movements. He did not lean on his cane as she would have expected, but occasionally moved it in front of him in a half-circle. She supposed that it was his way of surveying his surroundings for any surprising obstacles and barriers. Eyeing his steps and body curiously, her gaze travelled over his lean frame and tailored clothes, admiring his broad shoulders and strong neck. She had to admit to herself that he was a rather striking man, despite his preference for seedy establishments. Heat bloomed on her cheeks as she realized what she had just thought, quickly trying to ban the thoughts from her mind.
However, as he came closer, she realized that other than his dark charm and his name, she knew nothing about him. Torturous images crept to the forefront of her mind as she remembered how Mr. Baizen's lips and hands had humiliated and debased her this morning. She looked down to the dark bruises forming around her wrists; wrapping one of her hands around the marred skin, she dug her fingers into it slowly, trying to feel the dull pain.
As two black leather shoes came into her vision, her head snapped up sharply. He had come to a halt a few feet away from her, trying but not quite achieving to affix his gaze on her. His emotionless eyes almost scared her now as he seemed to be asking for something that she could not give him. Again, he twisted his cane into the floor board, apparently waiting for her to say or do something. He raised his right hand in her direction, compelling her to take a step away from him. As he noticed her movement, he mirrored her by taking a slight step forward.
She quickly turned on her heel, refusing to be taken advantage of by another man. Ripping the curtains open forcefully, she hastily made her way towards the staircase in case he chose to chase after her. She knew that it would be nearly impossible for him to find her among the loud noise and heavy smoke, even if he could see. Only wanting to hide herself in her small chamber and curl up under her blanket, she ran up the stairs to the girls' quarters.
As she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, looking behind her to see if anyone was following, she collided with a hard object. Before she could right herself, two strong hands encircled her upper arms, pushing her body backwards.
"So we meet again, Miss Waldorf," a cold voice snarled, which she recognized immediately as Mr. Baizen's. She closed her eyes in panic, struggling heavily to escape his hold.
"Let me go," she all but screamed, hoping someone in the rooms would hear her.
He laughed crudely. "Everyone is downstairs, and even if they weren't, they would probably be too busy to care about the little maid." He tried to pull her towards him, her eyes flying open as she smelled the heavy alcohol on his breath. His gaze was unsteady and clouded as he let it wander down her body.
"Your friend just informed me that I would be no longer welcome in her room, and I think I have you to thank for that." He gripped her arms tighter as if he wanted to cut off her blood circulations. She felt her fingers grow numb, revulsion and fear rising inside of her at the realization that he might want to try and finish what he started this morning.
She attempted to twist her arms out of his grasp with forceful and unexpected movements. Due to his inebriation, Mr. Baizen lacked his usual alertness, so Blair was able to gain enough room to ram her knee between his legs. Groaning with pain, he pushed her away from him furiously. As she stepped back to regain her footing, a sudden empty abyss opened beneath her feet. She felt herself lose her balance, her hands reaching out desperately to find something to hold on to. However, her fingers slid along the smooth wood panels of the stairwell, her eyes meeting the shocked face of Mr. Baizen for a short moment.
It felt like an eternity until her body hit the sharp edges of the steps, and although trying to cushion the fall, she was incapable of stopping herself from rolling down the steep stairs. She closed her eyes tightly, clenching her teeth as dull pain spread through her limbs and skull.
When she finally landed on solid ground, it felt as if someone had split her stomach open with a blunt axe. A warm, thick liquid seeped into her dress, covering her like a soggy blanket. She wanted to lay her hand onto her belly to stop the bleeding, but couldn't work up the energy to lift it. Her eyelids grew heavy even though the splintering noise in her head made it impossible to think.
She closed her eyes to rest and block out the throbbing and twisting spasms in her legs, but was soon awoken by cold water splashed into her face. A myriad of muffled voices swirled around her, but she felt too exhausted to even try and open her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to sleep and for these people to leave her alone. As the sounds grew dimmer and her body number, she sensed someone lifting her up, carrying her outside; however, she soon felt herself falling into the depths of a deep, black slumber as the ground started to move beneath her.