Part 1: Foxglove Hall
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Chapter 1: The interview
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When I completed my college studies last summer, I had dreams of becoming a vulcanologist. The idea of travelling the world exploring the restless might of nature carried a huge appeal. Unfortunately, jobs monitoring volcanoes... even researching extinct ones... are few and far between. My only success was a two month summer job indexing and cataloguing a college professor's photographs of Iceland's many volcanoes. Since then, six months of fruitless searching, and two unsatisfactory boyfriends, leave my dreams evaporating into nothing. A Christmas job in a mall, gift-wrapping presents, held off the inevitable for a few more weeks. Now the arrival of New Year means that I've exhausted my savings. I can no longer afford the rent on my bedsit, so I've no option but to surrender the lease. I need a job... any job... now.
My sister, Rose, and her husband, Sean, let me store my stuff at the back of their garage. However, they can't offer me more than the living room couch to sleep on. It's far from a satisfactory arrangement for any of us, but I'm out of options. It means moving ten miles to the small village they call home. Local employment opportunities there are few and far between, and invariably require skills and experience that I don't possess. In desperation I respond to an advert for a residential position at Foxglove Hall. I fully expect another rejection, assuming they bother to reply at all. My education speciality, and minimal work experience, hardly qualifies me for the advertised job.
Which only underscores how little I know. I'm surprised at how quickly I receive a response, inviting me to an interview at the Hall. As instructed, I make an appointment for an interview. Although Rose must be eager for me to move out of her house, she cautions me against seeking employment at the Hall. When I push her for a reason, she cites rumours and gossip going back many years. In normal circumstances, I would heed Rose's warning, but I'm getting desperate for a job.
I quickly do some research about Foxglove Hall and its owners. Foxglove Hall is a 16th century stone mansion located deep in the hills that surround the bucolic English villages of the Darwillow valley. The Hall is built on the site of an old 12th century castle. For centuries the Hall, and the castle before it, has been the ancestral home of the Earls of Darwillow. However, the current earl lives in America, leaving his brother, Arthur, and sister, Matilda, as residents in charge of Foxglove Hall.
Public transport in the Darwillow valley consists of a twice a week bus to the nearest city. That's of no use to me. Despite the cold January weather, I decide to walk the five miles to the remote mansion, saving the expense of summoning a taxi from the city. I arrive at the Hall about fifteen minutes early, having overestimated the time it would take me to walk here. My instructions are to call at the servants entrance, which I find tucked away at the side of the Hall. A huge iron door knocker is riveted to the stout wooden door. A dour man in a black uniform answers my knock on the door.
"Hi. I'm Laura Johnson," I say when it's obvious the man isn't going to say anything. "I'm here for an interview for the house staff job."
"More fool you," he snorts. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-one," I reply, slightly surprised by the question. "I'm sorry if I'm a bit early for the interview."
"Hmmph," he replies. "I guess you're pretty enough for the master's tastes. Come in."
I follow the man into a small sparsely furnished room that looks as though it hasn't changed much since medieval times.
"Wait here," says the man.
I'm kept waiting until the appointed time for my interview. Only then does a smartly dressed young woman enter the room. She introduces herself as Lady Matilda, who I recall is the current earl's younger sister. She conveys a degree of arrogance that I presume comes naturally to those of the aristocracy. Her slight German accent has probably been acquired from her late mother, a German countess with family links to the last German Kaiser. From the outset, I feel intimidated by Lady Matilda. The severe cut of her clothing, her black leather boots, and the way she speaks, give me visions of being in the presence of a German storm-trooper.
Lady Matilda asks me a lot of questions about myself, my family and my interests. Strangely, she doesn't ask about my employment record, although that's fairly evident from my CV. I answer honestly since I've no idea what information she is hoping to glean. The CV I submitted with my job application pretty much covers everything there is to say about me. Finally she seems satisfied with my answers.
"My brother will need to interview you as well," says Matilda. "If he likes you then you can start as soon as tomorrow, if that suits you. All our staff live at the Hall. Work hours are irregular, and the Hall is too remote to have our staff travelling to and from the city and surrounding villages. I presume that isn't going to be a problem."
"Not at all, my lady," I reply, not mentioning that a residential position will solve both my employment and housing problems at the same time.
"Good. Although the job advertisement specifies a general servant's role, I'm going to propose to my brother that we hire you as my personal assistant. Hazel, my last assistant, was careless and I had to send her packing. My brother has a liking for young female employees, so we need take precautions."
In ancient England, it was accepted practise in the homes of the aristocracy for the lord to have free use of a female servant's body. I thought social and legal changes had ended that practise over a century ago. Matilda is implying that the exercise of a lord's feudal rights over his servants is still alive and well at Foxglove Hall.
My interview with Lord Arthur consists of him having me remove my jacket in the poorly disguised ploy of getting a good look at my cleavage. I'm sure he'd like me to undress completely, but the presence of his sister dampens his obvious ardour. It soon becomes obvious that my firm and well proportioned tits are my best qualification for duty as an employee in his house. Having given his nod of approval, Lady Matilda turns to her brother and demands that I be hired specifically as her personal assistant. Lord Arthur isn't particularly happy about that limitation, but it seems that I'm not the only one intimidated by Lady Matilda's forthright manner. Somehow, she exudes authority without ever needing to raise her voice.
Having agreed to hire me as Lady Matilda's personal assistant, Lord Arthur resumes his work. Lady Matilda takes me to another room and goes through a contract of employment with me. Once I sign the forms she takes me upstairs to her suite of rooms in the east wing of the house. There are four rooms in her suite. To the right of the small entrance lobby is her bedroom with her private bathroom beyond. Ahead of us is the tiny windowless room that is to be my bedroom. Apparently Lady Matilda expects immediate attention from her assistant whenever she requires it, regardless of the time of day or night. To the left of the entrance lobby is an L-shaped sitting room that curves behind my bedroom to enable direct access between the lounge and Lady Matilda's bedroom.
"First we shall measure you for a uniform," says Lady Matilda. "Get undressed."
I'm shocked by her request, but I'm already too much in her thrall to willingly disobey her command. I make a move towards what will be my room, but Lady Matilda halts me in my tracks with a single word command; Here! I promptly remove my jacket, blouse and skirt, leaving myself standing in nothing but my underwear. Lady Matilda gives me a fierce look and I remove my underwear as well. I stand there like a frightened rabbit, embarrassed and ashamed of my nudity. I cover my tits and cunt with my hands.
