It had been two or three days since Eleanor had woken alone on the narrow bed and in room in the rafters of the house. She had no memory of how she had arrived there after falling into a state of exhausted torpor, drained by her ordeal within the vacbed. More worryingly she was genuinely unable to count the days that had passed since then, the monotony and isolation of her enforced duties as a housemaid occupying her physically and draining her mentally until the hours simply ran into one another and became lost to her memory.
Consoled a little by the fact that she had been left alone during that time, she had felt the aching in her muscles and the pain in her abused abdomen begin to retreat, little by little, until they were no more than a slight tenderness in her most strenuous tasks and chores.
For the most part, Eleanor did nothing more than what was expected of her during the days that followed her first encounter with the Squire. She was happy to have not seen or heard of the man in that time and though she was unaware of the fact, the mental after effects of his treatment had dulled her mind temporarily to the point where she could not truly have contemplated her escape from his estate if she had been inclined to try.
Instead she made her rounds of the house, attending to her tasks in silence and simply nodding when a response was required from Alwyn or another member of the household. The truth was that apart from Alwyn, she had seen very few others since arriving at the house and mostly they were figures glimpsed only for a few minutes and all as anonymous as the rest behind their masks or beneath their hoods.
Today she had seen no one at all and had simply begun the routine of her tasks in the manner of an automaton. So deeply was she sunk into a morass of lethargy and mental boredom that the sound of a cough from over her shoulder made Eleanor almost jump out of her skin.
"I hope this morning finds you well," Alwyn's voice had become familiar enough by now for Eleanor to know her by its sound alone. She was puzzled by the fact that she had not heard footsteps approaching, but the answer as to why was instantly clear as soon as she turned to face the smaller woman.
Dressed as usual from head to toe in her uniform red, Alwyn was sitting in a wheelchair no more than a few feet from where Eleanor had been dusting. The sound of the chairs tyres seemed to have been muffled almost completely by the thick carpet that lined the floor of the corridor as she approached. The question as to why the need for the wheelchair was silenced as Eleanor took closer note of the other woman's clothes and saw that the more common red tights did not emerge from beneath the tight pencil skirt as was the norm.
Today the length of Alwyn's legs below her skirt was instead sheathed in a single length of red spandex that stretched all the way down to her feet and covering every inch in the skin-tight material. Though her feet were visible at the bottom of her legs, from the point where her toes ended there flared out a wide flap of reinforced fabric that almost reached the floor where it spilled over the edge of the chairs footrests.
It took Eleanor a moment to shrug off her daze and realise what the strange addition to Alwyn's clothing was. But then she saw clearly as the sight awakened her curiosity, for some reason she was wearing a mermaid's tail. Suddenly there was a reason for Eleanor to shake off her state of resigned drudgery and she was soon feeling more awake and alert than she had in days.
Though she would have been slow to admit the fact, Eleanor had always been more than a little enchanted by the idea of mermaids, by their fairytale nature and elemental grace. As she had grown up, the fascination had receded as it did for most when the real world relegated fantastic things to a position of lesser importance. But there was always the allure of the flashing tail and the idea of swimming freely through the mysterious waters of the deepest oceans, hidden away and strangely strong in the back of her mind.
"I'll take it from your staring at my lower half that you're aware there's something unusual afoot," Alwyn twitched her feet so that the fin at the end of her tail flapped up and down, "if you'll pardon the pun."
Eleanor nodded.
"The fact that the Squire is somewhat eccentric in nature can't have escaped your notice," Alwyn shook her head, "if it had, then let's be honest, you would have had to be mentally deficient in some manner."
Eleanor nodded again, still more interested in the sight of Alwyn's legs moving inside the tail.
"There are times when he is gripped by the urge to indulge in one of his more complicated hobbies and pursuits, which the household is expected to help him with. Game shooting and riding are particularly onerous on the staff, but his passion for angling is slightly easier to accommodate."
Eleanor raised her hand slowly.
"I know what you're thinking," Alwyn shook her head, "why am I wearing the tail if all that's required is for him to catch a few fish?"
Eleanor nodded for the third time, wondering if she would ever be allowed to speak again.