Chelseas Downfall Ch 02

Henry was rather enjoying the feast. The food was rich and filling, the wine constantly pouring, and the women beautiful. All that was left was for him to decide which he wanted for the night, though in truth he was growing rather bored with all of them. A tall, buxom girl in a gown of pale pink satin that showed off her deep cleavage flicked her blonde hair behind her in a manner that rather irritated Henry and giggled insipidly at something another gentleman had said. She glanced at him across the table with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and stroked her foot up his leg. Raising an eyebrow at her, Henry smirked and took a sip of brandy. These high born girls were as common as muck, and as wanton as any tavern wench once they'd had a couple of glasses of wine. "She'll do for tonight." Henry thought absentmindedly, "If nothing better comes along. She's pretty enough, and clearly willing. Her voice and giggles are quite annoying, but that can easily be rectified with a gag."

His smirk spread as her foot found it's way higher up his thigh and he found himself imagining her swollen breasts bouncing as he took his pleasure from her. "More wine for the lady." he shouted, grabbing a passing servant by the arm in order to acquire the jug of wine she was carrying to another table.

"Yes M'lord." The girl muttered, filled the lady's cup.

Henry felt a tingle up his spine at her voice.

Chelsea

He looked up at her, and sure enough the pale little girl with curly black hair stood before him. His hand remained enclosed entirely around her skinny arms, and he drew her a little closer. "I'm glad to see you've managed to fix your cap." He said, rather loudly. "I assume the master of the house would be most distressed if you showed any neglect to your appearance in front of his guests."

He felt a tremble run through her body. "Yes Sir. I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I promise it won't happen again."

Her voice alone made him rigid with desire. Common yet respectful, and barely above a whisper. She also sounded terrified which was an aspect Henry had grown rather fond of in his women.

Chelsea felt a lump catch in her throat and tried desperately to avoid making eye contact with any of the guests. She was shaking, as she always did when addressed by males, and having one touching her so inappropriately was giving her a terrible desire to run from the room. Relief flooded through her as the man's fingers released her arm and he dismissed her.

She walked as briskly as she dared away from the table, and fled down to the kitchens. The colder air and the empty room allowed her to gather her senses a little. "Why am I such a fool?" She asked herself. She knew she could not carry on being so shy when serving at such large parties or somebody will more than likely express their disapproval to Lord Manderly and then she'd be thrown out with no job, no money and no way of getting back to her family up north.

She filled a another two jugs with wine and composed herself before heading back up to the feast, hoping that her absence would not have been noticed.

She entered the great hall and continued with her duties, filling up wine glasses where needed and clearing away plates when guests were ready to move onto the next course. She kept her eyes downcast and her hair tightly coiled inside her cap, though a couple of stray curls had managed to sneak their way out and bounced around her cheeks as she walked. Her evening serving dress, although set aside for formal occasions such as this, remained modest and drew no attention. Absorbed in her duties, she did not notice the man coming up behind her.

"Chelsea." The deep voice growled her name, making it sound primal and almost rude.

She spun around in shock, eyes wide and searching for the speaker, only to find herself looking into the deep brown eyes of the Lord she had encountered earlier.

He was uncomfortably close, so she took a step back away from him. "M'lord." She said, bobbing a curtsy and dropping her gaze to her own feet.

"I'll be leaving the feast early." He informed her, closing the gap between them with a step and pressing her against the wall. "See to it that a fire is lit in my room and turn down the bed."

Chelsea blushed a sweet rose colour at his proximity and nodded. "Yes Sir." She whispered, barely audible above the din of the other guests.

Henry couldn't help but feel pleasure at making the poor girl squirm. Her emotions and discomfort were written plainly across her face and her chest lifted and dropped with her panicked breaths. He placed a hand on her waist and splayed his fingers across her hip, and then leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'll see to it that you are rewarded for your excellent service."

Chelsea trembled. How could he make such a remark sound so threatening? She bobbed another curtsy, desperately willing him to remove his hand before somebody saw. He granted that wish at least, and moved away quickly to rejoin his table, leaving behind a faint smell of brandy.

Setting down the last of the wine, she set off to speak with Geoffrey. He was standing near main entrance to the hall in his evening attire and keeping a beady eye on the guests and staff alike. When he saw Chelsea approaching, he raised an eyebrow gave an imperceptible nod that was his way of giving permission to speak.

"One of the gentlemen is planning on going to bed early tonight. He requests that his bed is turned down and a fire lit in his room." Chelsea said, her voice a little uneven.

"Which gentleman?" Geoffrey asked, glancing about the room.

"I believe he is Lord Manderley's cousin." Chelsea said, "On the table to the left."

Geoffrey looked over and his eyes found Henry, who was now had his arm draped around the shoulders of the blonde lady and was whispering something in her ear that made her throw back her head and cackle obnoxiously. "Henry Greene." He said, disdainfully "Well, we're well staffed enough for the feast. You may go and see that his requests are met, and then get some sleep. I'm going to need you up early and in the kitchens to help cook with breakfast."

"Yes Sir." Chelsea said, feeling relieved that she was allowed to leave the feast. She felt much more comfortable in her own company.

She turned to leave as Geoffrey cleared his throat. "One more think, Chelsea." He said, "You'll find that Greene is a virile fellow. He likes his bed kept warm by willing women." He nodded over the where Henry was sat, now openly nuzzling against the lady's neck. "You are not to mention or gossip about this to anyone. It is not for us to judge those we serve and the entire staff need not know that Lady Westerling is enjoying his company at night if that is what happens."

By his expression it was clear that Geoffrey disapproved of such a coupling himself, but Chelsea nodded and then made her way up to Lord Greene's chambers.

It was a fine room, with heavy curtains, a thick carpet and well made draperies around a massive bed. A basket of wood and coal had already been sent up and sat next to the hearth, where Chelsea knelt down and began building the fire.

Henry threw back another swig of brandy and glanced around at the other guests. All were merry, all were reaching a certain stage of drunkenness that would result in flirting and a lowering of inhibitions: an environment that he would normally thrive in. Yet all he could do was think of the little ghostly shy girl in his room, making up his bed. He stood up and left without excusing himself, leaving Lady Westerling looking somewhat bemused by his sudden change in personality. Only ten minutes ago he hadn't been able to keep his hands off her and now he was sauntering out of the room, swaying a little as he went.

He realised that he had fallen victim to drinking too much the moment he tried to tackle the stairs. His head swam and he almost fell backwards but managed to grab onto the banister and steady himself. He proceeded to climb, albeit slowly and with caution, until he reached the second floor and could stagger safely to his room.

After struggling with the door handle for a few seconds, he managed to fling open the door to his chambers and was greeted with the sight of a maid, bent over his bed and turning down the sheets. He smiled as her admired the view of her backside bobbing up and down, and then almost laughed when she turned around and jumped at the sight of him.

"Please, don't stop on my account." Henry said, leering at her as he rested his head against the door frame.

When she didn't move, he shouted. "Well get on with it!"

She flinched at his raised voice but lowered her head and turned to finish off the bed. Her small hands were quick and dexterous, and the bed was done in no time at all. She leaned over and plumped the pillows and then turned to face him.

"Your bed is ready, m'lord." She said, curtsying again. He found himself enjoying watching her curtsy. He liked the downwards bob of her head and the gesture of subservience.

"Do that again." He requested, sauntering over.

Chelsea looked up at him confused. "Remake the bed, Sir?" She asked, "Is it not to your satisfaction?"

Henry shook his head. "Curtsy. Again."

She glanced down at her feet and lowered herself into a curtsy again, this time more conscious of her movements. She waited in her bent position, and looked up at Henry with wide expectant eyes.

"Lovely." He said, hiccuping.

Chelsea rose and the corners of her mouth turned up in the faintest smile. At least she'd managed to get something right.

Henry stood in front of her, looking down at her. He lifted his hand and clumsily tugged the cap from her head and dropped it to the ground, eliciting a frightened gasp from the servant. She went to take a step back away from him but one of his hand closed about her arm and held her firmly in place.

"You don't have to hide such beauty from me." He murmured, raising his other hand and stroking the mass of loose black curls that tumbled about her pretty face.

"Sir, Please!" She cried, trying to pull away.

Henry barely noticed her resistance, momentarily entranced by how beautiful she looked with her hair loose. How her sky blue eyes widened in fear, and her hollow cheeks blushed pink below her milky skin.

She tugged her arm harder with surprising strength for one so thin, yet it did nothing to loosen Henry's grip on her. He tightened his fist around a bunch of her hair and pulled insistently down on her arm, leading her to the bed

"Please, Sir! I have to go, this isn't-"

He quieted her by pushing her down onto the mattress where she lay silently for a moment before sitting up shocked.

"The only place you have to go, is here." Henry growled, gesturing to the bed.

Chelsea stared up at him, plainly terrified and quivering like a leaf in a breeze. Her pale skin was ashen and she looked almost as though she would faint. She opened her pretty little rose bud lips to protest again but he grabbed her chin roughly and lifted his face to his, smothering her complaint with a hard, unyielding kiss.