Truly more women need to be sadists, free themselves of the perception of weakness and helplessness that has been put on them and flip the roles completely.
"I'm looking respectfully" well can you look at me like you're dying of a fever. like you're delirious and it hurts. like you're fighting desperately for your life.
No, im not “obsessed” with this girl. Fantasising about bathing in her blood doesn’t cross the line, if i wanted to hold her hand that would be obsession.
"maids can date other maids!!" are you hearing yourself. do you know what you're saying. think of the princesses that you're depriving with such awful and frightening rhetoric.
I set the platter down on the end table next to my mistress and pour out her tea. She doesn’t take it with milk or sugar, and she always insists that I oversteep the leaves in the pot. Bitter herbs sharpen the mind, she says.
Agatha is sprawled out on her reading chair in her chamber, still in her nightgown despite it nearly being noon. Lady Agatha purportedly drove away several governesses in her youth with her willful and unladylike attitude, and I have personally seen her drive out a fair score of potential suitors in much the same way. I admit that I almost admire her sharp tongue when it’s turned towards those above me, but all too often her disposition grates on me in the way that only a spoiled child can.
“Thank you, Liz. Would you draw the curtains? I have a bitch of a headache.”
Her delicately manicured left hand covers her porcelain face, as she regards me through spread fingers. My lady’s room has a western facing window, and there’s not a single stream of light flowing in at the moment. A catty remark crosses my mind briefly as I walk over to the curtains to draw them.
“Right away, my Lady.”
She’s not fond of sharp or sudden noises, so I carefully pull them together, taking far longer than I would prefer. Once the are curtains shut, I tidy up her room. The laundry maid has often complained that Agatha’s clothes seem to spend more time as makeshift rugs than on her body. She’s still watching me through her fingers, although she hasn’t yet deigned to honour me by turning her head.
“Lady Agatha, forgive me my presumption, but you seem not to be feeling well today. Shall I send word to that factory owner’s son that you won’t be able to entertain him for dinner?”
Exactly on cue, she lets out a put-upon sigh and slumps further into her chair. Mister John Harker has been quite dogged in his pursuit of Agatha, despite her repeated deflections of his various advances. By society’s estimation he’s a perfectly unobjectionable man, though the arrogance he displays by courting far above his station embitters him to me. Not that anyone of standing minds, her parents have been trying to marry her off to any man who will take her, both to finally rid the estate of her presence and to dispel the rumors that they’ve spawned an unmarriageable hellion.
“I’m afraid you didn’t respond clearly enough for me to answer Mr. Harker’s solicitations, my Lady, shall I return after you’ve had time for the tea to settle?”
My mistress is so predictable. As soon as I suggest that I’m about to leave, she immediately rights her posture, combs her hair out of her eyes, and clears her throat.
“Tell that parasitic bastard that I am indisposed in no uncertain terms, Liz.”
She pauses for a beat, her face twisting as venom decants behind her ruby lips, until her expression settles into a malicious grin barely veiled by an austere half-smile. Just as I’m about to prompt her, my Lady speaks.
“On second thought, I’m feeling much better. Your tea always does wonders for me, Elizabeth. Let him know that I would be honored to dine with him alone tonight.”
I know she’s not touched her tea yet, so Agatha must be plotting something. Typically she would hold a massive party so that she could publicly humiliate a suitor. A solo dinner is well outside of her usual mischief.
“Very good, my Lady. I’ll have a messenger send word to Mr. Harker immediately.”
“You must help me get dressed and prepared first, Liz. I can’t host anyone in this state, certainly not him. My hair’s a mess, as is my face.”
I can’t help but smile to myself. Agatha is always so petulant and exacting when she gets an idea like this into her head. Until the very moment her plans begin, she’ll find something wrong with her appearance or presentation and endlessly correct it such that everything is perfect. She’ll need to bathe, get dressed, do her hair, and have at least four hours to make sure that each room in her scheme is arranged to her need.
“Did you bathe last night, my Lady?”
Of course she didn’t, I was with her until I turned out her lights. My mistress never bathes unless I remind her too. She seems startled when I ask this, snapped out of her plots for a moment by the societal expectation of cleanliness. Honestly, she’s helpless.
“Oh! I, well, no…”
“I see, my Lady. I’ll go draw a bath for you now, and I’ll fetch you when it’s ready.”
“Thank you, Liz.”
“It’s no trouble at all, my Lady. Do you have an idea of what you’ll be wearing tonight?”
“…I don’t.”
“Well my Lady, I encourage you to think on it while I prepare your bath. Please excuse me.”
She’s not listening anymore, and I know it. I don’t particularly mind. The look of her perfectly focused face tells she can’t tell if I take a moment outside of her notice. Some time to alert the staff to the general outline of what will be occurring today. I quietly excuse myself from her chambers and look for Anthony, the estate’s coachman and messenger. He seems genuinely excited to be giving Mr. Harker substantial news for a change. I can’t blame the man, it must be exhausting to constantly rebuff the pesterings of a desperate lovelorn fool.
Lady Agatha didn’t outline any of her plans to me before I left, but they all more or less follow a rote routine, so providing advanced notice to the kitchen and cleaning staff has historically improved the odds of my mistress’s plans going off without a hitch.
The bath has always been simple, but unorthodox, to prepare. Agatha prefers her baths to be as hot as possible, so I nearly boil her bathwater. When she’s ready it’ll be the almost scalding temperature that she so adores. I gently knock at the door and let myself in. Agatha has spread a few different dresses out on her bed and the floor and is in deep deliberation as to which dress she should wear.
“I think the sky blue dress would be appropriate for today, my Lady.”
She starts up, like a cat that’s had its tail tread on. I suppress a giggle. She nods to me in agreement and begins to gather up her other dresses.
“Also, your bath is prepared. Leave the cleanup to me, my Lady.”
I reach down to help her upright and she takes my hand swiftly. She pulls herself to her feet in one sudden motion and walks to the bathroom faster than is necessary. Out of the corner of my eye I catch her alabaster cheeks flushing rose, cut off sharply by the slamming of a door. This is routine as well, a startled Agatha can’t bear to be seen by anyone else. I tidy up her room, returning all but the blue dress to her wardrobe. After all is set into its rightful place, I make up her bed and tidy the mess of romance novels on her desk.
A book titled Carmilla catches my eye as I clean, hidden away behind the headboard of Agatha’s bed. It’s in a horrid state, spine bent and broken, pages yellowed with several dog-eared to hold her place. My lady is still bathing, so I take a break from my chores to peruse a few pages. Within seconds I am absorbed so fully that I nearly miss my Lady crying out for my aid. I clear my throat and tuck the novel back where I found it.
“Liz! Elizabeth! I need your help! Now!”
It’s strange, she almost never requires assistance in the bath, but I open the door to the bath and a wave of heavy steam forces me back. I wipe the fog from my glasses and walk in.
“Liz, what took you so long?”
Agatha’s skin is entirely red from the hot bath, but she hasn’t yet wet her hair. I can’t help but sigh, she’s going to insist that I wash her hair. It’s nearly been two months since she last asked for this, I had almost hoped that she had forgotten that I said I’d be willing to. I move behind the bathtub and prepare the soaps.
“Forgive me, my Lady. I was engrossed in my work.”
She pouts, because she can’t help it. I keep my opinions to myself.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore! Now that you’re here, wash my hair! … please.”
I knew it.
“You’ll have to wet it yourself, my lady. I wouldn’t want to appear to be drowning my mistress on the off chance that someone stumbles into your bathroom.”
With a huff, Agatha sinks beneath the steaming water, giving me another opportunity to remove the fog from my glasses. She childishly breaches moments later, splattering both myself and the floor with her bathwater. Every day it grows harder to suppress my annoyance with my mistress. Each interaction is just another trial from God, sent to test my patience.
“Close your eyes, my Lady. We wouldn’t want it to get into your eyes.”
I lather her scalp and begin the laborious process of cleaning her unmanageable amount of hair. Agatha has been famously opposed to it ever being cut. Trimming it to remove the splitting ends has been a battle enough her entire life, the other maids have told me. She’s made a personal enemy of every salon’s proprietor and all of their employees within fifty miles, and now none will ever assent to seeing her.
My mistress sighs with contentment as I work on her. She purrs like a cat when my nails scratch her scalp and mewls pathetically when I move on to more of her hair. There’s some wordless protestation when I wipe my glasses for a third time, but it’s easily resolved with a bit of pointless fawning.
“Alright, it is finished, my Lady.”
She sinks back underneath the water. I have to wait for her to resurface before I leave, lest I provoke another outburst. It won’t be long, as she can hardly hold her breath above water, let alone below it. When she surfaces this time she doesn’t intentionally splash as a seal would.
“If that’s all, I’ll be taking my leave now, Lady Agatha.”
I’m struck by how wounded she looks as I move to leave. With a sigh I turn around and set my glasses on the vanity, as it seems I might be in this teakettle of a room for quite some time.
“Is there something wrong, my Lady?”
There’s a pause as she thinks over my question. She’s clearly troubled, it’s written all over her face.
“What do you think of that Harker bastard, Liz? And you have to answer honestly! Or else!”
It’s now my turn to spend a moment thinking. By all measures he’s an upstanding young gentleman, cordial and polite at every opportunity. He gets along well with all of the servants in our estate, myself excluded, and he’s absolutely filthy rich, so it wouldn’t be beyond him to provide the lavish lifestyle that Agatha insists on.
But despite knowing all of that, I simply cannot stand the man for more than five minutes at a time. His posture is stiff and bent all at the same time, he never knows when to stop joking about with people, and his tireless pursuit of Agatha, despite her obvious intolerance of his existence, makes me wretch. If I were her mother, I would make it clear in no uncertain terms that he is to leave my darling Agatha alone and never show his face in my house again.
“Hmm. Well, in all respects he’s a wonderful gentleman who any young woman would be delighted to marry.”
I can feel my mistress burning holes through me with her glare as I begin my evaluation of her suitor with the same uncritical praise that she’s doubtless heard dozens of times already.
“But, I personally would resign as my Lady’s personal maid if you were to accept his proposal. I cannot stand to share a room with the man, and were it not my duty to ensure he felt safe and welcomed in this estate, I would have denied him entry long ago.”
Agatha looks visibly relieved to hear such a scathing opinion of Mr. Harker. After I finish speaking, she steps out of the bath without warning and wrings out her hair. I nearly stumble as I go for a towel to give her so that she can cover up. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen her fully naked before, so I suppose she must not mind at anymore. I excuse myself to her chambers to help her dress and do her hair after she finishes drying herself.
She’s returned to her silent plotting once she exits the bath, and wordlessly allows me to dress her, not putting up nearly as much of a fight as I’m used to out of her. I prefer her like this, a nice pretty doll for me to dress and groom. I’m almost shocked not to hear any complaining as I do her hair up into a partial crown braid, but she’s within in her own internal world now. The Day of Judgment itself could not rouse her now.
Once she’s fully prepared for the day she gracefully dances out of her room, stopping to offer me a mumbled thanks for dressing her. She’s likely off to let the staff know her particular requirements for tonight’s dinner. I’ll be following her during the late afternoon, but time has flown, and I’m finally allowed one of my breaks, so I go off to the kitchen to have myself a meal.
The cooks are all abuzz about Lady Agatha’s meal request for tonight. Against her parent’s paltry resistance, she’s asked that they prepare all of the most expensive meat they had on hand, and that they were to make enough to feed the entire staff. Nobody is quite sure what awful prank she’s going to play on Mr. Harker, but they don’t care. Wine, bread, cheeses, all are fair game to the staff tonight, so Agatha likely has their entire support.
It’s already late afternoon when Anthony leads Mr. Harker into the foyer. He looks dazzled by the chandelier when I greet him on behalf of Agatha.
“Welcome to the Rosewood Estate, Mr. John Harker. At present, my Lady Agatha is preparing for your meal with her. Forgive her absence; she’ll be with us shortly. Until then, it would be my honor to entertain you.”
My voice breaks his fascination with the crystal chandelier and he laughs nervously.
“Uh, haha, yes, very good. You’re, wait, don’t tell me, I remember your face, uh, you’re Elizabeth! Right, yeah Lizzy, the uh, maid that’s always joined to Aggie’s hip. That’s splendid, I could use your advice.”
I wince when he calls my mistress ‘Aggie’ with such familiarity. Where does he get off thinking that he can use a pet name she despises when she’s done nothing but ignore his telegrams and letters for months? I offer a silent prayer that whatever Agatha has planned will rid us of this vermin for good.
“I’m flattered, Mr. Harker. Not only do you remember a humble servant like myself, but you think so highly of my opinion that you’d ask for my advice. If you would give Anthony your coat, I’ll guide you to the sitting room, where it’d be my utmost pleasure to answer any questions you may have.”
Mr. Harker’s face lights up with an awful juvenile smile as he hands off his filthy longcoat to the coachman. I lead him to the sitting room, opening the door for him and he immediately takes Agatha’s favored seat. His posture is positively uncouth as his miserable form seeps into the chair.
“Should I have a servant put on some tea, Mr. Harker?”
“Tea? No, can’t stand the stuff. I only drink coffee. Lizzy, you wouldn’t believe how rough the journey here from London is, but after months of silence, my beloved Aggie has finally seen sense! Everyone told me that she’d never respond, uh, that she’s always going to be unmarried but I sure showed-”
I can’t bear to hear anymore of his blathering, so I cut him off.
“I’m as pleased as anyone else is that my Lady has finally graced with you an invitation to our humble estate, Mr. Harker. If you would forgive me speaking above my station, what did you intend to ask me about?”
His surprised expression at my directness fills me with equal parts pride for silencing him and anxiety for speaking over a man.
“Uh… right, right, so you know Aggy better than anyone else right, Lizzy? I mean, uh, of course you do. I’ve never seen her without you by her side, uh, so, in your opinion how do you think it’d be best for me to uh, spring an engagement on her?”
Die. I want him to die right now.
“Lady Agatha has always hated surprises. I’m sure someone who cares for her as deeply, as you yourself do, would understand that instinctively. She’s also quite sharp, trying to trick her into saying yes would only put yourself in danger of one of her infamous rejections. Were I in your position, I would be upfro-”
“Ha! Upfront? You’ve got to be joking around with me, right Lizzy? I’ve always uh, been upfront with Aggie about my intentions and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Honestly, were I a more cynical man, I’d think she’s uh, preparing to embarrass me like she she did to Georgie, and Percy, and Willy, and…”
He trails off getting quieter and quieter as he lists a number of Agatha’s potential suitors that he personally knew. I take the moment to breathe, trying to quell the seething rage I feel after being so sharply cut off by a dimwitted half-common fool who asked for my advice, then decided he knew better instantly.
“Yes, my Lady has discerning taste. But not one of the unfortunate men you listed were ever personally invited to a private dinner with Lady Agatha.”
Mr. Harker looks up from the fingers he was counting his former rivals on, genuinely shocked at what I had just said.
“Wait, uh, really?”
“Yes sir.”
“You’re not pulling my leg, are you Lizzy?”
“This is not the proper time to make jokes, Mr, Harker.”
The smile that appears on his face on hearing this turns my stomach.
“Splendid! Right, uh, sorry for doubting you Lizzy. You’ve been so helpful. Uh, take this as a sign of my thanks.”
He shoves a crumpled wad of banknotes into my hand, then returns to Agatha’s chair, somehow spreading himself in a less dignified way than before.
“Sir, I can’t accept these, I haven’t done anything for you.”
I gently set the money onto an end table nearby Mr. Harker. It stinks like he does. I’ll have to wash my hands once I have some time to myself. When he speaks again, his voice is in a lower tone.
“Oh Lizzy, you’re so humble, I insist. And uh, just between you and me, uh, Percy said the reason why he stopped pursuing Aggie wasn’t because of all of the drinks she spilled on him or the kissing some other man while he was watching or any of that. Percy’s a good-natured chap after all. You could probably cut off his leg and he’d thank you.”
“Forgive me, I’m not sure I understand-”
“He said it was because uh, whenever you’d look at him, he’d uh, feel the chill of the grave. So, uh, if Agatha does become my fiancee, I’d like to have a good uh, you know, relationship with you, Lizzy.”
I notice that I’ve been clenching my fists in my lap during this entire conversation. I relax myself, and give him a halfhearted half-smile.
“Whatever my Lady desires, I will make so. If she truly does wish to marry you, Mr. Harker, I’ll gladly serve you with her.”
“Brilliant! We’ll be thick as thieves in no time, won’t we, Lizzy?”
As if Lady Agatha has any intention of spending one more moment of her precious time with this imbecile after tonight is through.
“I’d imagine we would be, sir.”
Another maid opens the door to let us know that dinner is ready to be served. Harker gets up right away, boundless energy pouring out of his every step. I follow behind and over his shoulders I see Lady Agatha. She’s done her own makeup for this dinner, and though it’s competent, I still wish she had given me the opportunity to do it for her. Even so, at this moment she is the pinnacle of grace and beauty, her dress flowing like water with each step she takes.
“John, it’s so very good to see you tonight. I trust that Liz was a satisfactory substitute hostess while I was making myself presentable?”
Her voice rings out clear and wonderful as church bells, contrasted to Mr. Harker’s boorish mumbling.
“Uh, yeah, Aggie, she was an uh, a great hostess. You uh, look pretty tonight. Uh, Lizzy said it would just be the uh, two of us dining?”
“Yes, I’ve had my staff prepare the meal beforehand so that it can just be the two of us alone, John. I’m quite proud of what my chefs have waiting for us tonight.”
Agatha offers her hand to Harker, which he takes, not even kneeling to kiss it, and then pulls her into the dining room. The doors close behind them and I rush to the washroom to scrub his scent from my hands.
It’s been nearly thirty minutes as I wait alone by the door, hands red and raw from the washing. The air stings. All I can here through the polished oak are polite murmurs as the two eat and chat, though try as I might, I can’t discern the direction the conversation is going.
Doubts begin to eat away at me while the minute hand crawls iota by iota across the clock face. Did Agatha actually have feelings for Mr. Harker that I simply hadn’t noticed? Was this not going to be a prank of hers? Without being able to hear, anything could be going on behind those closed doors. I fall to my knees and offer another prayer to whatever saint can be bothered. Ask God on my behalf to kill that man on the spot.
As I strain my ears I hear a glass shatter and a slight scuffle. I ignore it dutifully, if I am needed then she will come ask for me. Then a dull thump as something hits the floor hard. It is none of my concern, my imagination must be overactive. Then a strangled, gurgling scream. I disregard my station and throw open a door to see if my Lady is safe.
Within the dining hall I see my lovely Lady Agatha on top of a fallen John Harker, her face pressed against his neck and hand covering his mouth. He’s gripping the tablecloth with one hand and clawing desperately at the air with another. The red wine is all over the floor and my Lady’s dress. Harker’s eyes dart towards me and he forces out another gagged scream.
I begin to apologize for my intrusion and turn to leave, when I catch from the corner of my eye thick crimson pool oozing from Mr. Harker’s neck. There’s a tearing sound as she looks at me from atop the bleeding man. She looks up at me and spits out a chunk of his flesh. A jolt of envy courses through me.
“Oh Liz. Right outside my door. Ever my faithful dog. Did you hear that scream and get worried that John was attempting something improper with your master?”
Harker had sunk his teeth into Agatha’s hand, hard enough to make her bleed, but the light is already beginning to leave his eyes. I come to my senses enough to speak.
“What in God’s name are you doing, Agatha?”
She smiles far wider than she’s ever done before, showing off all of her perfectly straight bloodstained teeth. Her voice remains even and tempered, as if she were speaking to her parents or another noble. I’m beckoned over by her free hand and I approach warily.
“John was just blathering on and on and on about his life and how he’ll treat me if we were to get engaged and about his work in the city and all of his terribly boring friends and it was so mind-numbingly dull.”
Her voice is excited and lilting as she continues, but she isn’t talking past me. All of her attention is on me now.
“You know how I get when I’m bored, Liz. I started to look at his neck instead of his face. When he gets excited did you know one of his veins throbs just a little? I got to wondering what it would feel like if I were to sink my teeth into it and then before I knew it-”
She laughs clear and innocent as a church bell. It brings a smile to the corner of my face despite the circumstances.
“I was on top of him ripping out that throbbing vein with my teeth!”
Blood has started to seep into the edges of her dress, the floor is slick with Harker’s life. I get closer to her, and she wrenches her other hand out of his mouth. I kneel beside her and she rests her head on my shoulder.
“And it felt so good, Liz, the heat of his blood pouring into my mouth, the feel of my teeth cutting through skin and muscle alike, the terror in his eyes as he realized that I was going to kill him.”
Agatha lets out a dreamy sigh, running her uninjured hand over the chest of Harker’s corpse. I glare at it. It’s still too much affection for him, from her.
“And the struggle, he bit my hand, you know. How improper of him, he’s meant to be my suitor.”
She takes my cheek with her unbitten hand and turns my head to look her in the eyes. I ask instinctively.
“Is there something you require, my Lady?”
My Lady Agatha kisses me on my lips, the bitter iron taste of Harker’s blood fills my mouth, my cheeks reddening from the directness, the impropriety of it. I feel my heart quicken when her tongue meets mine and at this moment I forget about the dead man beside me, the stains to my clothes, and every thought about what I should do now.
The kiss ends abruptly, and I’m still left reeling from the intensity of the situation. Agatha stands and present her injured hand to me. I wrap it with a napkin to staunch the flow of blood. The same smile is still on her face.
“Now Liz, I seem to have made a mess of my dinner. Could you clean up for me?”
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