Hadassah arched her back and swept her hand across her sweaty forehead, exhausted. She had been scrubbing the floors for nearly half an hour and had done very little to cover the ground she had hoped to cover. Certainly, the hall was bigger than she had initially suspected, she sighed, rising to her feet. A soft wince escaped her lips as pain shot through her muscles.
She especially hated scrubbing floors, she thought, her eyes scanning the wide hallway. But what choice did she have? After spending nearly a month in the estate without seeing nor being summoned by her new master, she was beginning to feel useless. Berta must have noticed too, because she began to put Hadassah to menial labor around the house. Of course, scrubbing floors could not be seen as menial, but Hadassah wasn't about to complain.
She turned around sharply at the sound of approaching footsteps. Pushing her limp, messy hair aside, she clasped her hands before her and waited patiently for the mysterious guest to appear.
“Dasa?” Berta tired form appeared through the hallway. Taking hold of Hadassah's hand, she began ushering her through the small hallway. “You must get ready. Apparently, Lord Talbot is expecting a guest for dinner and I cannot possibly do this myself and with Marcia ill...” She stopped before Hadassah's room and pushed the door wide open. “Change out of those clothes, you will help serve dinner.”
Hadassah nodded quickly to Berta's instructions and waited until Berta had turned from the door, before closing it.
She hadn't met with the masters of the house, except during her brief interview with the man whose name she didn't care to know. Everything in her hoped she wouldn't see him tonight at dinner. Still, everything in her knew she would and so much more than that, she knew she couldn't appear ugly and smelling of smoke.
Propelled by her determination to appear somewhat beautiful before the condescending master, she rummaged through her small pile of dresses and found a presentable yellow house dress.
Simple with white lace fringes, the dress seemed perfect for a valet who was now reduced to a maid. She slipped out of her dirty work clothes and into the clean dress, tugging at her hair until she had succeeded in pulling it into a neat bun behind her head.
Not wanting to be late, she turned to the door and made her way out. A loud crashing sound immediately followed her actions.
Stunned, her hand remained frozen on the doorknob for a few seconds. When she regained her composure, she closed the door and hurried towards the direction of the crash.
“Arrggh.” A loud groan filled her ears as she approached the large hall. She reached the source of the crash, eyes wide in horror at the sight of a grown man seated on the floor, drenched.
Her eyelids continued to grow as her eyes traveled the scene to find the bucket she had been using to scrub the floors only a few minutes ago, broken, dirty water from the bucket, soaking into the wooden floors and messing up the work she had spent so much time doing.
Mouth falling wide open, she turned her attention back to the man, her fingers curling in annoyance. She couldn't see his face for his wet hair had succeeded in covering it as he sat helplessly in the midst of the mess.
Swallowing a bitter sob, she made her way to where he sat and took hold of his arm. He shrugged her off, an annoyed mumble escaping his lips.
“What idiot leaves a cleaning bucket at the foot of the stairs?!” He asked pointedly.
Placing her hands on her hips, “You were the one clumsy enough to walk into a bucket of dirty water. Surely, you can take responsibility for your own clumsiness.” She hissed, taking hold of his wet arm once more and pulling him to his feet.
A frown settled on her face as she wiped her wet, dirty hands on her skirt, swallowing a complaint. She would have to appear before the masters and their guests looking like a complete mess once more and she would especially have to endure being referred to as ugly. But she couldn't complain, it was partly her fault a man nearly broke his two legs; she had forgotten to remove the bucket from the foot of the stairs.
Sighing in frustration, she tore her eyes off of her dirty skirt and lifted her head up.
Jumping back in utter horror and surprise, a loud cry escaped her lips as her foot slipped on the wet floor and she found herself seated on it, water sipping in through her dress to her thighs.
She closed her eyes briefly, praying she would open them and find that this entire day was a dream. When she opened her eyes once more, he was taking firm hold of her forearm and helping her to her feet.
“Are you alright?” She thought he was looking at her, even if his eyes seemed to be aimed slightly above her head. His wet hair had been pushed aside, revealing deep blue eyes, the same ones she had hoped for many days she would never have to look into again.
“I-” She mumbled, tears stinging her eyes.
No, she wasn't alright! She was far away from home, standing before a man she was beginning to loot and most likely appearing like a pitiable creature. She certainly couldn't show up to dinner wearing a wet, dirty dress, but she had run out of options. Her life only seemed to be getting worse and the presence of blue eyes seemed to make it a lot less bearable.
She opened her mouth to say just that, when loud footsteps from up the stairs, caught her attention. She glanced up to find a woman, dressed in an expensive green dinner dress, making her way down the stairs.
Hadassah didn't wait to see the woman's face. Sensing she was the lady of the house, Hadassah bowed her head and clasped her hands before her, fighting to keep her tears from falling.
“Daniel?!”
Hadassah froze. Where had she heard that name before? Surely she had heard it!
“What happened? Goodness, why do you smell like a wet horse?”
A loud giggle escaped Hadassah's lips in that moment, tears slipping down her face. She clasped her hands over her mouth, embarrassed.
“Who are you?”
Knowing the question was directed her way, “Dasa, my lady.” She curtsied.
“Dasa? Where have I heard that name? Perhaps Berta...” Hadassah watched her feet approach.
“Perhaps, my lady. I have been hired as a valet for a master I have never met.”
“Oh?” She sounded annoyed.
“Do not look at me that way, Mother, I am not in need of a valet.”
Hadassah took a step back yet again, horrified. It couldn't be him, could it?! Surely this wasn't her new master?! She all of a sudden remembered where she had heard the name Daniel before, it had been the evening Berta had informed her of her employment.
“Lady Price will arrive shortly, Daniel, I do not have the time to stand here, arguing with you. Dasa?” Hadassah's head remained bowed as she nodded, hands trembling beside her. “This is your new master and whether he admits it or not, he does need help. You may begin by helping him out of these wet clothes.”
Hadassah stood frozen as Lady Talbot made her way past her.
“Yes, my lady.” She finally murmured to herself, lifting her head up just in time to find Daniel making his way back up the stairs.
Fighting the now crippling desire to cry, Hadassah followed quietly behind.
•~•~•
Daniel easily found the conversation with Lady Price, tiring. As was expected, Lady Price had nothing to talk about that was of interest to him, even if she knew nearly everything that laid behind the entire town's closet.
He had endured an entire evening in her company and while he knew it would be rude to excuse himself when she was in the middle of hinting yet again at the prospect of them getting married to each other, he didn't think he could survive another second with her around.
He needed an excuse, he thought. A polite, yet pointed excuse to leave. He could feign tiredness... He shook his head, knowing it would be a poor excuse considering the fact that he did nothing but sit in his room all day. He searched his mind for several minutes, each excuse he thought about, seeming too poor for his liking.
Small footsteps sounded in the parlor where they sat; footsteps that sounded familiar to his ears. He had listened to them the entire evening and had become acquainted with them; they were Dasa's, his less than submissive valet who had challenged him twice. She had not only accused him of lacking of grace which is tantamount to accusing him of being barbaric, she had called him clumsy.
Still, he found Dasa's presence rather refreshing. It wasn't that he thought he would ever be in need of her, especially considering the fact that he had slammed the door in her face after the water incident earlier, and found a clean change of clothes without her help, it was that she seemed to have a brain behind her pretty face.
He thought she was pretty, he shook his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he listened to her footsteps cross the room. They were nearly silent and graceful. They were footsteps belonging to a lady rather than a servant, footsteps that could only be heard by ears trained to do nothing but listen for faint sounds.
Her footsteps also gave him an idea of her posture, painting a mental picture in his head; a picture of a pretty woman who most likely had the perfect gait with her shoulders straight, chin up, hands to her sides...
She drew near in that moment and leaned down, putting a halt to his train of thought. The scent of her skin drifted to his nose, reminding him of her servitude. She smelled of cheap soap and a distinct smell he knew belonged to her skin alone.
He listened to her pour tea into a tea cup, the sound reminding him of Lady Price's presence.
Rising to his feet suddenly, “Dasa has informed me of my need to go to bed right now.” Feeling two sets of confused eyes settle on him, “You see, Lady Price,” He turned to the sofa where he imagined she sat wide eyed. “When tea is served and so late in the evening, it is Dasa's way of politely instructing me to go to bed. Isn't it, Dasa?” He turned to Dasa, brow raised.
She stood in silence for a long while, most likely confused. Daniel suddenly found himself praying she would back him up on this falsehood.
“Yes, my lord.” Her voice carried confidence in it, surprising him. “Perhaps you know me too well, for I have also brewed a camomile tea to this effect.”
“Great!” He said, a little too loudly. “I mean, forgive my nurse, Lady Price,” He walked around the coffee table, beating the air slightly until his hand found Dasa's hand. Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, “but she is only doing her job.” Bowing slightly, he turned and began making his way out of the room, with Dasa following closely by his side.
And for the first time in many years, Daniel silently admitted to himself that he needed help, if only to get away from Lady Price.
He especially liked the feeling of Dasa's hand, tucked in the crook of his arm.
Copyright © 2018 Lily Orevba All rights reserved.
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A/N
Super, super amazing cover by Jas-the-bookie She's also the one who made the cover for the published version of UNTIL YOU. She's super amazing guys! This cover is to die for!