"Where is she?" He murmured conspiratorially as she opened the door. "Where is the mistress of the house?"
"Out at church, sir," she curtsied and looked up at his tall frame in the doorway.
"And where is master?"
"He went to mass too, sir."
"Who are you then?"
"Margot."
"So, you have been to mass earlier?"
"I have that, sir."
"Good girl."
"I like to make them proud."
"I hope you would make me proud too."
"An excess of pride may come before a lady's fall," she said, straight faced, the twinkle in her hazel eyes, hinting at a smile.
He reached into his pocket and handed her a gold embossed card. She took it, gazed at it dubiously and turned to place it on a silver salver that rested on a little table next to the door. Turning so she stood in profile to him, she leant down and opened a little drawer in the table. He looked her up and down slowly, admiring her curves and the sweetness of her little snub nose. "I like your humour, maiden," he commented, reaching across to take her wrist in his hand.
"I'm glad it serves you well, sir," she replied softly, looking down at the large, hirsute male hand, manacling her wrist. As she stared back up at his face a passing look of slight distaste crossed her features, but she did not withdraw from his grasp.
"But, where do you keep your smile? In that drawer?"
"In a secret place, sir."
"And if I said I came here just to see you smile?"
"I would say that you came here to be delighted, sir."
"You could please me, Margot," he grinned, lifting her hand up to his to kiss it.
"That's good sir. I like to please a man."
"In the village or just here?"
"That depends on the man and on master."
"How is he involved?"
"He isn't. That's the whole point."
"In what way is it dependent on him then?"
"While he travels about with the mistress, I make hay."
"I'm pleased to hear that."
"I am a great little agriculturalist, sir."
"Does your master own all this farmland, then?"
"That he does sir. His acres run from the church over the hill to the edge of the valley, sir. He allows me a little field to lie in the sun and to watch over his horses."
"Do you have house guests when the master is away?"
"His title is 'master', sir," she frowned and shook her hand from his grip.
"Sorry - when master is away."
"I forgive you sir and I'm sure master would too were he around to oblige."
"Thank you for the absolution. Now answer the question, girl."
"You do not want any witnesses for your dastardly deeds? Would you bed me and demand breakfast too in secret?"
"Do you want witnesses?"
"Not really."
"Then discretion will be my watchword: a refreshing beverage will suffice for now."
"That is as well, sir. Perhaps you should come in and take refreshment."
"Is that allowed?"
"Gentlemen are always allowed, sir," she curtseyed once more and took his black cloak from him.
"Then, I accept the offer, Margot, though your master must never know."
"You will not compromise me then sir?"
"Will you remember my visit to your master, girl?"
"Only if you give me cause."
"And is a sovereign cause to forget it?" He smiled, reaching into his waistcoat and proffered a golden coin, all the while looking up the stairwell towards the bedrooms.
"A gold sovereign could help," she replied, lifting the coin to her mouth and biting it hard to check it. Then she pulled open the drawstring of the little velvet purse strung from her black Sunday skirt and popped the coin in there.
Having concluded this neat little transaction, she walked towards the back of the hallway, carrying his cloak.
"But, it is not enough?" He said raising his voice a little to compensate for the distance.
"Not enough for all you desire, sir," she opened the door and held it open for him.
"Would another coin assist, girl?"
"A coin always appreciates company in my purse," she agreed, reaching up to hang it in a large oak cupboard by the banister. He watched her stretching up, admiring the simple cut of her auburn hair and the shape of her body.
He wanted to reach out and touch the little bead of perspiration he saw beading at her neck, before she brushed it away with a lace handkerchief pulled from the sleeve of her chenille blouse. Her Sunday best: not for church, but for his pleasure. She looked well in the sombre colours. She would look even better stripped of such finery.
"Then, take it and lead on, Margot," he said impatiently, as she turned to face him across the table. He reached into his already depleted purse and held up the coin for her to observe carefully, before flinging it onto the table. It rapped the wood sharply and then rolled across the coarse grained wood, dropping to the floor with a further sharp retort.
He was watching her in hawk-like fashion, as if waiting for her to feed before he snatched his prey. Margot turned away from him and bent slowly from the waist, her skirt rising up to reveal the prettiest of ankles and to outline the most curvaceous bottoms. It cost him a good deal of restraint not to step forward and touch her lightly on the behind as she collected the coin in her hungry palms.
"You were not born to service were you, Margot?"
"No, sir," she replied dully. "My family was a merchant family. I was the youngest daughter. We fell on hard times and I was traded to pay off a creditor."
"You do not sound as full of regret as I might expect."
"Do you have great expectations, sir?"
"Perhaps."
"I take my compensations where I may," she shrugged.
"Indeed?"
"I have a trading heritage and know trading will always continue in this County. That is some re-assurance when I find myself bartered and beholden to a new master."
"This has happened often?"
"It has happened often enough."
"Are gentlemen such as myself some compensation for such brutish behaviour?"