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Maid for You [Prince of Smut & YellowSmoke]

Y

YellowSmoke

Super-Earth
Joined
Jun 15, 2013
Location
UK
Cast:
Léa Lavoisier (21)
Hélène "Ellie" Lavoisier (17)
Florent Guillory (42)
Miriame Guillory (41)


Two months had passed since Ellie's parents had perished on the road between Grenoble and Bourgoin-Jallieu. The sale of their house had been handled by relatives, leaving Ellie and sister Léa with a tidy sum of money but no idea of what to do with it. The elder sister was already employed as a maid to the Guillory family in Brezins, and did not seem to be of a mind to leave her post. As a matter of fact, she'd even gone so far as to convince Florent - the man of the house - that it would be in his best interests to hire Ellie as well, and so it was that one pleasant morning in late Summer, the young southerner found herself trudging up the gravel driveway to their stately home in the French countryside.

The house before her was a grand edifice of years gone by, when houses were not churned out like a dozen replicas on a production line, but rather each were unique and elegantly designed buildings which stood as far apart from their neighbours in design as they were in distance. The Guillorys' nearest neighbours were almost beyond sight, and the house itself was set against the backdrop of the monumental French Alps, stretching from the horizon up towards the blue, cloud-streaked sky.

With nothing but a suitcase to her name - for all of the money from the sale had gone into Léa's bank account - Ellie stood before the elegant château in a quaint yellow-and-white summer dress, its light colours and floral design seeming to act as an emblem for her youthful innocence. White high heels - formerly belonging to her mother - were strange guests upon her feet, but they completed her outfit nicely, and she wished to make a good first impression upon Monsieur Guillory. Her brunette hair was parted slightly off-centre, and all pulled back behind her head save for a side-sweeping fringe which covered her forehead.

She felt as though she were on the precipice of a new life as she climbed the single step to the large red door and in one dainty hand brought the knocker down upon itself. Thunk. Thunk. Her heart raced, and she was thankful to know that she would see Léa again; that her sister would at least be the one familiar fixture in an otherwise new environment.
 
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Léa Lavoisier


Léa felt fortunate that both Monsieur and Madame Guillory were visiting town today for she could barely concentrate on her duties as it was. After weeks of anticipation, her mind was aflutter with her sister Ellie's imminent arrival and she struggled to finish even her simpler chores. Her inability to focus was quite unusual as Léa normally found her work to be cathartic; cleansing her thoughts and emotions of anything that troubled her by throwing herself into the more mundane cleaning a maid performed. She had certainly blunted the sharp grief of the last two months by placing an unusual amount of fervor into doing her job well.

It helped that, far from finding a maid's life tedious drudgery, Léa had always enjoyed bringing order to the chaos that crept naturally into estates such as the Guillory's grand mansion. Pressing sheets and bringing silverware to a shine made her feel in control and nothing was more pleasing to her soul than a spotlessly cleaned room with every item in perfect place. Still, the old château was a lot of work, even though most of the house was rarely used these days. The Guillory's had employed a maid staff of three for decades, until their youngest daughter had left last summer for marriage. Since then, Léa bore the duties all by herself with only some supplemental part-time help from local women in town.

All by herself until today, that is.

Léa had been nervous last month when she had proposed to Monsieur Florent that they employ her sister, but to her surprise he had agreed quite quickly. Perhaps the man, as egotistical and vain as he appeared, had a softer side and felt some sympathy for Ellie's plight after their parents had passed away. Or perhaps he had merely calculated that Ellie, worked hard, would cost less than the part-time maids they had to employ to supplement Léa. Whatever the reason, Léa had pressed Ellie to accept the offer and bring the two sisters finally together again for the first time in years.

Léa had never felt alone before when her parents had been alive. Home was a physical location with real people waiting for her, even if she couldn't get there without traveling across half of France. Since then, she'd keenly felt how Ellie and herself were all that each other had left. The inheritance had been a bittersweet gift; enough money to tempt her to leave her job, but not enough to live off permanently. She'd still need to work unless she found a husband. The very thought made her wrinkle her nose in distaste as she'd never enjoyed the thought of marriage and had not met a man yet she hadn't viewed with some disgust. And if she did get married, where would that leave Ellie? No, better that they work together and save their money jointly. The Guillory's were no worse than other rich French families and Ellie might need a vocation in the future. For now at least, Léa had decided that the two sisters should be together to start a new life of their own. As the older sister, it was her duty to provide for Ellie.

The low thunk of the knocker at the front door startled Léa, causing her to drop the candlestick she had been polishing. The silver rod fell to the carpet with a loud thud, but Léa paid it no heed as she spun towards the main hall. Before Girard, the butler, could move from the back quarters, Léa loudly announced that she would answer the door and hurried with her skirts lifted into the reception hall. Pausing briefly to compose herself, she brushed back a stray lock of her brown hair that had escaped the bun she typically wore and smoothed out the black skirt and white apron of her outfit. Another deep breath and she opened the door.

A smile burst across her face when she saw that it was indeed Ellie standing outside. Her sister looked so young and innocent, particularly in that country sundress, that Léa's hug was tighter and more protective than she had planned. Somehow her little sister had made the journey alone. She was actually here.

"Oh... Ellie, you made it!" Léa murmured as she gave Ellie happy kisses on each cheek. Then, at arms length, she took in her sister's slender figure while shaking her head in disbelief. Her eyes lingered on the white heels Ellie was wearing. They were her mother's shoes, she believed, and glaringly mature for Ellie's otherwise youthful appearance. It was a strange contrast that made Léa uneasy at the sudden realization her younger sibling was indeed becoming a young woman that was no longer the child she remembered so well. "I'm so happy you are here finally. That we are together."

"Please, come in. Let me take your bag," Léa said, pulling Ellie after her with a tight grip on her sister's hand. "The Monsieur and Madame will be returning from town shortly, so we have time to unpack in the maid's quarters that we will share. I'll also introduce you to the butler and the chef."
 
Oh, how good it felt to be hugged again! Since the passing of Mr. & Mdm. Lavoisier, the only arms Ellie had known had been her own. True: she had been embraced in consolation at the funeral, but even then the gesture served as nothing but a reminder that she would never again hug her mother, and Léa's absence had been more strongly felt during that hour than ever before. Here was a genuine embrace, one which brought the tones of home she so desperately missed. She had been just 12 years old when she had last seen Léa, and she was so mesmerised by the woman into whom her sister had grown that she barely knew what to say, but nonetheless a wide smile beamed from her youthful face for the first time in months.

As she took her first steps into the Guillory household, Ellie's eyes roamed the walls and high ceilings of the large château, and the teenager realised at once that she had never before set foot in such a grand and well-kept home. The wooden furnishings were all varnished, the walls were free of soot, and on the way to the maid's quarters she glimpsed more ornate candle-holders and spotless pieces of silverware than she could count.

"Wow, Léa... they must love you here. Everything is so clean!" She turned her eyes up to her sister's face and again was struck by how she had grown. It had only been 5 years but it seemed a lifetime; Léa had always been beautiful but she had grown into a beautiful woman, and the house in which she earned her keep was spotless, at least by Ellie's standards.

"Are they nice?" she asked, a little hesitantly. Having never met the Guillorys, it was understandable that she should be a little nervous, having committed herself to living and working in the same house as them. "Do they treat you well?"

Devoid of the heavy bag she'd lugged halfway across the country, her arms felt light and tired, and with her sister's hand around hers she felt a little freer and more optimistic than she'd been on the journey, when nervous apprehension had gripped her and reminded her that if all did not go well, she had nothing to return to. Her life would now be Brezins, and her family was but one. She took strength from Léa's presence and knew that Léa would be for her the anchor as which her parents had acted until two months ago, but she knew too that - in time - she would have to become strong herself.
 
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Léa Lavoisier


Léa couldn't help but smile at her younger sister's obvious gawking while being shown the Guillory's château. Léa had actually been even younger herself when she had first left their home to find work as a maid, but she doubted she had ever been as awestruck and innocent as Ellie appeared today. Her sister's naivete was endearing and she squeezed her hand tighter while fighting back a chuckle at her questions. Oh, to be this young again and free of the worries that Léa felt had settled on her since their parent's death.

"Like all rich people, they love their belongings far more than their servants," replied Léa with a slight shake of her head. "Whatever you do, never make them think you might have stolen something and never, ever break anything."

Léa caught Ellie gazing at her and she smiled at the concern that was etched on her sister's delicate features. The girl she knew so well was still there, but she'd grown into a beautiful young woman with features strikingly similar to Léa's own. Large brown eyes and fair skin, with an adorably cute nose in the center of her face. Léa felt in many ways like she was looking into a mirror of herself five years ago, when her face had smiled more and she'd found more joy in life around her. And of course, before she had grown wise to the world and the dangers it posed to young girls.

"The Guillory's are fine," Léa said soothingly, giving Ellie's hand another reassuring squeeze. "But they are not like Mama or Papa. They are our employers and do not care about us beyond the job we do for them. If we displease them, they can let us go at any time. You must not act like a young girl, but like a grown servant. Obey their requests, do not talk back to them, and do not let them think you are shirking in your work. They have been fair to me, which is more than I can say about other employers. Don't worry, I will train you exactly on how to behave."

Léa led Ellie into the back hall, used by servants, and down the corridor to the maid's quarters. It was a small room, with two beds, two dressers and a view of a hedge from the lone window. Léa had decorated it with scattered photographs she had cut from magazines that reminded her of home, and one old, worn and faded photograph of their parents that she had tucked into a mirror on the wall.

"This is our room," said Léa with a shy smile. Ellie's return felt like a puzzle piece that had been missing in her life suddenly locking into place. The drab room, so quiet and lonely before, seemed more alive just with her sister's presence. She'd had friends before, other maids, but never anyone she loved and cared for the way she did Ellie. Despite their age difference, they had been fast friends while growing up and Léa realized now how much she missed that kind of companionship. She had been alone for so long, trying her hardest to be an adult and act mature, and always wearing a mask of confidence that she dare not remove. The idea of having someone she could talk to and tell everything, with no inhibitions or concerns, was intoxicating and she reached out impulsively to give Ellie another brief hug. "I've missed you so much and am so happy we are together again."
 
Ellie understood what she'd been told. She recalled the summer when she and Léa had been paid to walk Johnstones' dogs for three weeks, and how the English family who had befriended their parents on their holidays had cared less about their relationship with the Lavoisiers than about their oh so French poodles' well-being. Mrs. Johnstone had lambasted poor Ellie - then only 11 years of age - for allowing one of the dogs to a slice of ham with too much fat on it (apparently the animal had to be in prime physical condition for an upcoming dog show, and it was of the utmost importance that its figure was kept trim), and even the young French girl's tears had done nothing to soften the heart of the old battle axe. By the looks of it, the Guillorys were at least as rich as the Johnstones had been - if not more so - and Ellie was to be entrusted with the care of their entire home, not just a four-legged companion.

Her heart sank a little when she saw the room she was to share with her sister: while the pair had not come from a rich family, her own room at home - my former home, she reminded herself - had nonetheless been far more luxurious than the humble quarters with which she was now presented. The bedsheets were plain and the mattresses looked thin, and it was sparsely decorated. The walls were bare and despite the glamour of the house through which they had walked, the furnishings were aged and worn, though Léa had done her best to keep them in good repair. Their surfaces were polished and clean, and after a moment Ellie supposed that they possessed an antique sort of charm.

She heard her heavy bag thud softly to the bare wooden floor, and then her sister's arms were around her, though the embrace was all too brief. She really would need Léa, she realised, and turning to her she smiled and her focus shifted to the joy of long-awaited reunion.

"Me too," she beamed. "It took so long to get used to not having you around. I was always so excited to receive your letters. We'll be happy here, I'm sure of it." Sure of it she was not, though she hoped that her words would prove prophetic. So far from the only home she had known, robbed of her parents and having left her friends behind, Ellie's life was set to change dramatically, as it had already begun to do on that fateful night when Christophe Lavoisier's car had veered off-road and collided head-on with a wooden pylon.
 
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Léa Lavoisier

Léa had caught that hitch, ever so slight, in Ellie's smile when they had entered the room. Quickly masked in her response to Léa's hug, Léa still guessed that her younger sister wasn't as thrilled by their new quarters as Léa had hoped. It had been five years since Léa had lived in their parent's house and she realized her perspective had certainly changed. Maid's quarters could be squalid, dark and crowded, with four girls to a room at time. Some were unheated or drafty, others little more than mattresses on the floor. The Guillory's, owning a larger and now mostly empty house, had provided her with an almost extravagantly nice room by her standards. Léa even suspected that at one point in the château's history it had been a room for a high ranking servant, maybe even the head housemaid?

"I know it's not much, but it's ours," Léa said with a nod.

Well, Ellie was still young and this was her first job. She didn't realize how lucky she had it, yet, and Léa briefly frowned as she pulled her sister's suitcase to the empty dresser. A maid's life was tough and she had a gnawing uncertainty that Ellie might not take to it like Léa had. The girl had grown, physically of course, but might she still have a little of the immaturity that her parents had encouraged in her as their youngest? A little more of a desire to be taken care of, rather than care for herself? Léa felt a strange excitement at that idea; it was much in line with her own strong urge to look after her younger sibling and fill her parent's role. She'd have to be strict with Ellie and teach her well; their relationship couldn't be just sisterly coddling and hugs. There was too much weight on Léa's shoulders for that.

Léa had a smile by the time she turned to face Ellie again and glanced at her sister appraisingly. "Let's get you unpacked and then fitted into a maid uniform. I'd like you to make a smart first impression to the Guillory's who should return within the hour. They'll not regret hiring you if you are ready to work so soon after arrival."

Léa had just crouched down to unclasp Ellie's suitcase when she heard Girard announcing that the Guillory's had returned. Her jaw dropped in surprise and a flicker of annoyance crept across her face.

"Well, it looks like we'll have no time to get you changed. Let's go and present you to them and we can change afterwards," said Léa with a reassuring smile to Ellie that hid her own annoyance. It would be fine. As much as Léa wanted to show Ellie off in the proper light, the Guillory's were rather casual for a wealthy couple and Léa told herself again that they would find no fault in Ellie not being in uniform already.

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Florent Guillory


The limousine bounced down the country lane towards their château and Florent stifled a yawn. The de Limousin's luncheon had been insufferably boring and he had been pleasantly surprised that Miriame had agreed to leave early. Even though his wife seemed to take no joy at these events, at least any more, she always seemed to want to maintain a veneer of politeness that prevented her from declining invitations or leaving early.

Miriame had returned to her typical silence since they'd entered their car, staring out the window at the familiar countryside outside of Brezins and barely replying to his comments. Florent tapped his hand idly on the pants of his suit and glanced at Miriame with a frown. He'd been distracted with his business affairs for many years, which had perhaps made him slow to note the changes in her, but since their youngest daughter left just the prior summer he'd keenly felt Miriame's new penchant for brooding silence. Her smile, her laugher and her joy seemed to be gone.

Of course, Florent had not always been the most attentive husband in recent years either. Florent adjusted his silk tie and swallowed drily, thinking of the mistresses and liaisons of his recent past. Miriame could not know, could she? She did not suspect him and act like this out of some bitterness? Florent was not a careless man and he tried his best to be discreet, out of respect for Miriame, but Brezins was not a large city and he had always feared some rumor leaking back to his wife. She was partly to blame for his acts anyway, as her bed had been cold to him for years as well.

A cold bed, despite the fact that Florent was still a handsome man, though now in his forties and with distinguished grey sprinkled in his dark hair. A tall man, he worked hard to keep his figure lean and knew his impeccably tailored suits fitted him in a manner most men his age envied. The bright blue eyes were as piercing as ever and he believed his face, though more lined, had the same sharp features that had made him quite the catch in Brezins when Miriame had married him over twenty years ago. A man had his needs and women seemed almost more drawn to him now, at the peak of his wealth and success and with his looks and charm still a match for younger men. How could he help himself from enjoying their attention?

A taxi was coming down the lane in the other direction as they approached the turn off to their château and Florent was puzzled for a moment.

"That's strange..." he murmured as he watched it dwindle behind them. "Ahh, yes... the new maid, Léa's sister, must have arrived. She'll help cut down on the part-timers that come with their sticky fingers."

Florent had suspected the non live-in maids of stealing small items in the house. Léa had been without reproach, he'd searched her room secretly at times to prove that, but he distrusted strangers coming and going so freely. Hiring her sister at a cheap rate had been a fortunate solution when Léa had proposed it. And of course, with the passing of her parents, it seemed a charitable gesture as well.

"Excellent timing for another set of hands as we have the cocktail party on the lawn coming up," Florent continued, trying to make small chat with Miriame. "I do hope that the de Limousin's can't attend. I couldn't bear another story about their insufferable son and his accounting firm in Paris."
 
"Don't worry, it's kinda cute... besides, you look really pretty in yours. I only wore this because I wanted to make a good first impression on Monsieur Guillory. And I don't know how maman wore these shoes; my feet are so sore!"

Ellie and Léa had been discussing the need to forego the younger's pretty country dress for the more demure attire which adorned her sister's body, when Ellie's short burst of laughter was interrupted by the distant thud of they heavy front door being closed. Her head snapped towards the sound, and when she turned back to Léa, her eyes were wide with expectation. "Is that them? Are they home?" Her sister's look confirmed that - most probably - they were, and immediately the teenager's pulse began to race. She had prepared herself for this moment during her trip across country, but now that it was here, she was all nerves again. What would they think of her? And what would she think of them? Their arrival truly did signal the beginning of her new life, and little Ellie had no idea what awaited her in the coming months, or quite possibly years.

Ever the grown-up, her sister ensured that her white-and-yellow dress was uncreased and that her hair was tidy, and with a gulp Ellie nodded to Léa's final words of assurance. Together, the siblings turned for the door and passed through the house to meet their employer. Ellie felt out of place in her mother's heels, but she did so desperately want to make a good impression. The shoes made no noise upon the plush carpets which adorned the Guillorys' floors, and the skirts of her dressed hushed softly against her short, lithe legs as she walked up the small corridor which lead from the main hall to the back of the house, branching left to the kitchens and right to her new quarters, back the way they'd come. Her hair fell down over her shoulders - bare save for two thin straps of white fabric - to where the dress hugged her modest but shapely breasts.

At first sight, Florent Guillory was everything she had imagined - and nothing she could have dared to imagine. Tall and impeccably dressed, he presented a respectable and imposing figure; the well-defined features of his face struck her as belonging to a man possessed of imperturbable confidence, and though his hair was speckled with the grey of years far beyond hers, he was eminently handsome. Ellie saw him before he saw her, and in that brief moment, there was - she thought - a sternness to his features which implied that he was not a man to be crossed. Behind him, she barely noticed the elegantly dressed Madame Miriame, who upon entering the house moved to the left-hand side of the hall and proceeded swiftly upstairs without so much as a glance or a word to anyone.

"Monsieur Guillory," Léa addressed him respectfully. "My sister Ellie."
 
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Florent Guillory

Harry, the chauffeur, opened Miriame's door with a soft "Voila" and Florent patiently waited for his wife to exit before he followed her up the stairs. Girard was already opening the front door for the couple, a smile on the old man's portly face. The butler had served them faithfully for decades and lived down the lane in a small cottage. He spent most of his time managing the staff and the domestic affairs of the estate, including planning dinners and parties. There had been a noticeable drop in those in the last couple years, Florent mused.

"Monsieur. Madame," Girard said with a slight bow. "I believe the new maid has arrived, although Léa has not brought her by me yet." There was a hint of annoyance in his voice. Of course, many of the part-time maids they had employed had been acquaintances, or even friends, of Girard's wife, so the new live-in maid had not been his idea. He was likely still peeved that Léa had approached Florent directly on the matter as well.

"Ah good, don't worry Girard, I'm sure we'll still need to supplement at times," said Florent with a tap of the butler's shoulder. A flash of white to his right caught Florent's eye and he turned to find Léa approaching with a young girl.

The contrast between the two sisters was startling. Léa was in her maid uniform, a black, knee-length and short-sleeve dress with a white apron and bonnet; as traditional and drab as could be. And even when she wasn't in uniform, which seemed rare, her clothes tended to be dark and conservative. Léa was a pretty girl, Florent had noted on many occasions, but she worked hard to hide the fact and draw attention away from herself. And she was always so cold and formal, like she didn't like people and men in particular. Florent was more used to women fawning over him, flirting and smiling at his every word. Léa had always left him feeling uneasy, like his charm and masculine appeal was impotent in their interactions.

Léa's sister, Ellie was her name, seemed almost the opposite from first glance. Her dress caught Florent's eye first. It was a white and yellow sundress of a quaint, country style no longer fashionable in Brezins. With bare shoulders and no stockings, her creamy skin filled his eyes and the girl appeared almost half-dressed. Next to her sister's black uniform, she positively shone like a radiant flower. Ellie had the same dark brown hair and eyes as Léa, and similar features, but she was slightly shorter and her youth was undeniable. Léa had told him Ellie was seventeen, but she looked barely that with such innocent and large eyes that stared at him with some trepidation. Florent couldn't help a quick glance down her petite body, taking in the modest swells that hinted at her breasts, her slender figure and, lastly, a pair of jarringly adult white high heels at the end of her lithe legs. The simple sight of that mature footwear jolted him into appraising Ellie in a more venal fashion, rather than just admiring a pretty young girl. He snapped his eyes back to her delicate face with a rakish grin. A young girl yes, but old enough to make his loins stir. So innocent, so pure and so young, but those lips were full and pouty and seemed to beg to be kissed. Florent, you old fool, she is less than half your age! Still, the illicit thrill of these naughty thoughts was quite fun.

"Ahh, Mademoiselle Ellie," said Florent, dimly aware of Miriame heading up the stairs without bothering to introduce herself. One didn't shake hands with a woman in France, you kissed their cheeks. But, Florent had never done that with staff before and strangely had to quell the urge to perform what would be his normal instinct upon meeting a woman, especially an attractive one. It left him fidgeting awkwardly for a second, half-leaning forward, before he spoke again. "We are very excited to have you join the staff. The tragedy of your loss is devastating and my wife and I are both glad we can help reunite the two of you again."

Florent flashed Ellie another smile and let his gaze drift to Léa. The older sister was giving him a thin smile in return, but her eyes had narrowed and Florent realized he was perhaps a bit more effusive with Ellie than he had been with Léa before. Well, if she weren't so cold and gloomy, perhaps he would act this way with her as well. Must all the women in his damned house be so sullen and appear to dislike him? Couldn't one at least smile and show some joy?

"I will begin training her immediately, Monsieur," said Léa stiffly. "We are grateful for your generosity."

"Excellent and it is my pleasure I assure you. And now, if I can beg your pardon," said Florent with another smile and nod to the girls. He turned and headed upstairs, intent on changing out of his suit and perhaps having a drink before supper. Glancing down from the wrap-around grand staircase, he saw Léa take her sister's hand to tug her away like one might a young child. Ellie had been looking around the entrance hall and their eyes locked again briefly before Florent glanced away.

Mon Dieu! Ellie was going to be a breath off fresh air in this musty old house. Florent's mind was spinning as he imagined having her around every day; the temptation alone would be torture! To hope for anything more than temptation was foolish fantasy, of course, but still an entertaining line of thought...
 
"Monsieur Guillory seems nice," Ellie told her sister when they were alone, smiling in the wake of her first encounter with the man of the house. She'd been so unsure of how to act before him that she'd almost forgotten to bow courteously when he bid them adieu, as her mother had taught her. She had not failed to notice however, that Léa was a little stiff with him - almost overly formal in her reticence - and it struck her as odd in comparison to Mr. Guillory's genial approach. She supposed that that was how maids were supposed to be around their employers, and that in time she too might have to curtail her vibrancy in favour of a more respectful inclination. Things were less informal here than in the quaint country town she'd been reared in - surely even more so under the roof of the stately château - but she hoped that she'd acclimatise in time.

Her meeting with Florent - brief as it was - had eased her insecurities somewhat. He'd been polite and courteous (though this was surely to be expected from such a respectable, affluent gentleman) but he also left her with the impression that he was kind, even approachable, despite her sister's rather frigid disposition. If he was as amiable as he seemed, then with Léa by her side, the prospect of a happy life in Brezins was a distinct possibility, and this did buoy her spirits considerably.

A few minutes after returning to her room with Léa, a sharp knock at the door signalled Gerard's arrival to inquire after the house's new resident employee. The impeccably presented butler assured her that as well as having her sister to aid her in settling in, he would be available to answer any queries she had, though throughout their brief and decidedly formal conversation, the man seemed quite distant. Again, Ellie presumed that it was nothing more than circumstance with relation to his position, and though this made her blissfully ignorant to the possibility that her arrival might have displeased him in some way, it did slightly take the edge off of the optimism attained in meeting Mr. Guillory. Was everyone here to be so cold? Come to think of it, where had Madame Guillory gotten to? Her mother had always taught her that it was rude not to greet guests in your home, and though Ellie was to be more than a guest, it surprised and confused her that the lady of the house had swept so quickly up the stairs - so quickly that she hadn't even gotten a look at her face. She had been little more than skirts and high heels as she disappeared from the welcoming hall.

The truth of the matter was that Miriame Guillory was not feeling herself today, and was in no mood to meet anybody. In fact, Miriame had not been feeling herself since Thérèse had been married and taken away from her, and over the last year her general demeanour and state of mind had gotten worse and worse. She had been close to her youngest - she the final vestige of the family life which had given her purpose in the house - and without her to dote over and look after, she had been left with nothing. Florent had his businesses to attend to and associates to converse with, but without Thérèse, Miriame was reduced to acting as an extra maid - albeit a rather inactive one - and the conversation of her friends seemed less and less interesting to her. She kept up appearances out of a feeling of obligation - a need to keep a respectable face amongst the haut monde which her marriage to Florent had allowed her access - but none of the events which she attended fulfilled anything but that obligation now, and even her own brunches and lunches with the other ladies of Brezins had grown tedious without some life to return to after everyone had gone their separate ways. She sometimes wondered if it could all have gone differently; if, in the wake of Thérèse's departure, Florent had not been so busy with work to respond to her needs, they would not have rekindled the closeness and passions of their heyday, but he had been busy, and by the time he had ample space to give her the attention she had so desperately needed, Miriame had become depressed and his advances were met with little but coldness.

In her room, the madame shrugged off her shawl and let it lie where it fell, and towards the window she dragged her weary soul to sit upon her favourite chair: four ornately carved wooden legs embossed in gold paint leading up to an arching back, all upholstered in plush, floral-patterned linen. There, she was wont to gaze habitually out upon the lawns at the back of the house. The grasses were green, but Miriame often felt that they were too plain; that green canvas called to her to paint them with blossoming flowers but it was too comfortable to just sit and wistfully stare. Hadn't she too dreamed of blossoming into something beautiful? She supposed that she had, only that which made her beautiful was now gone, and she was nothing but the arid soil left behind. True, she was not quite dead - not nearly dead at 41 - but her existence was as plain as the bare, green lawns.
 
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Léa Lavoisier

"Yes, he is very nice," muttered Léa in response to Ellie's comment. In truth, she had thought the man a little overly delighted in greeting Ellie and it stirred some concern. Her sister was so young and no doubt naive about men and how horribly they could behave. Léa had much to teach her. While Monsieur Guillory had never been improper with her, she distrusted him much as she did most other men.

Léa had led her sister back to their room and was laying out her new uniform on a bed. Since they were similar in size, Léa hoped that one of her uniforms would fit Ellie without much tailoring. The short-sleeved black dress was classic in style, ending at the knees. The neckline was cut fairly conservatively, baring a bit of chest but demurely hiding cleavage. A white apron was belted around the front that was paired with a matching bonnet for the head. Finally, Léa laid out a set of silk stockings. The sheer, black fabric was light in her hands and Léa glanced at Ellie as she placed them on the bed.

"I doubt you've worn stockings much yet, but these have elastic around the top. If your thighs are too narrow, I have garters and even a belt you can use," Léa said as she studied her younger sister' slender form. Her legs, indeed, might be too thin and the extra items required. The idea of her in adult underclothes was a little unsettling, but she had to get over the lingering view of Ellie as a child. Ellie was 17 and very much a young woman now, with a body that was ripe and developing curves. No wonder Monsieur Guillory had given her such a lascivious look. Léa would have to talk with Ellie about men sooner rather than later.

Girard's entrance briefly disrupted them. The old butler had been less than thrilled about hiring Ellie, no doubt because the part-time maids were all friends of his wife, but he wasn't petty and Léa doubted he'd hold a grudge. He was near retirement and more than anything simply desired capable help that wouldn't make him to do any extra work or require tedious oversight. A few polite greetings and he was gone.

"Don't fret about him, he's more interested in making sure he can depart on time every day than anything else," said Léa with a grin at Ellie. "He'll leave us both alone if he thinks we are doing a good job. Which we will be. Now, let's get you dressed in your uniform. We can get it tailored in town tomorrow if anything is off!"

Léa smiled and made a gesture towards Ellie to urge her to take off her sundress. She wasn't sure why, but she felt a strange anticipation and sudden urge to see her sister undress. It wasn't exactly an improper thought, no nothing like that of course! Perhaps it was a desire to have the intimacy they'd enjoyed when they were young, when nudity or being in your underclothes had never been a thought between them. A feeling of casual closeness with another person that she'd been missing these last five years.

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Florent Guillory


Florent entered their bedroom humming lightly to himself. It was a new song he'd heard on the radio at a cafe in town, something popular with the younger generation with typical risque lyrics. Youth could be so beguiling at times, he wondered to himself as he loosened his tie.

Of course, despondent Miriame only reminded Florent of his own true age. The sight of her, sitting in her chair again and staring out at their grounds irked him suddenly like it never had before. She'd always liked that chair, but only recently had she seemed to sit in it for hours. Like some old lady counting off the days until her death.

"Miriame," he said as he took his jacket off and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Whatever has gotten into you. You didn't even say hello to the new staff downstairs."

Tossing his shirt onto the chair, Florent stepped out of his loafers and began unbuckling his pants.

"This mood can't be just from the de Limousin's horrible party. I know you've been lonely since Thérèse left, but the girl is only an hour away. Really, I've found it quite a drag to have you moping around like this when I return. We have the lawn party coming up in less than a week, shouldn't you be excited about that?" Florent asked as he started to redress his lean frame in a casual pair of slacks and a half-buttoned silk shirt. The lawn party had always been one of their big early summer social events. A 'who's who' of Brezins society and out of town guests, Florent always felt like he was holding court at his summer palace during the fete.
 
"Should I?" Miriame replied disinterestedly. A year ago she would have been excitedly tending to the preparations of the party, flitting to and fro in expensive, pretty garments, but this week it had all been left to Florent and Girard, and she seemed more interested in languishing in the room she shared with her husband. It did feel like that: not so much cohabitation as just happening to share a room with him, and at times she wished that he simply wouldn't come home. She did not detest the man - far from it - but she had come to take for granted all that he provided her with, and somewhere over the last year she had lost touch with him, or he with her. Both of them knew when that had been.

"I don't know anymore, Florent. I need time to... I need time. And this party is simply at the wrong time. Must we have it?"

She knew that there was no way they could cancel, not after all the invitations had been sent. What would people think? Questions would be asked and did the Guillorys not have a reputation to maintain? Beyond that, the idea that she needed time was a lie that her husband must have grown tired of hearing by now. It was not the first time she'd uttered those words, but yet had a time come when she seemed to make any use of the time she had to herself while her husband was working.

In her more sympathetic moments she would realise what a strain she was putting on their marriage - on Florent himself - and recall how large a role he still played in her life, what love she had for him... once. At times she could even be affectionate, though she seemed to have lost all interest in love-making. Now, the word love seemed foreign to her in every aspect of life, not just in marriage. All she knew was the passivity of wallowing in self-pity, as only a spoiled woman knows how best to do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~​

"Well, I guess it will give me a chance to speak with Monsieur Guillory," Ellie mused, turning her outstretched leg as she inspected the over-sized garments. She was nervous about the idea of having to ask her new employer for leave to go to town so soon, but it made sense to do so immediately; it would be more professional that way. That had been Léa's idea anyway, and it became apparent that there was much for Ellie to learn from her sister about the life of a working woman.

Her uniform was slightly too baggy on her slender frame, and she would certainly have to buy new undergarments, as those which she'd been given were slightly too big. She wondered idly for a moment if she still had a ways to go with regard to her physical development or if she would be the smaller of the sisters forever. They weren't too dissimilar, she acknowledged. Sure, her legs were a touch shorter and more narrow, her breasts a cup smaller if that, but proportionally their figures were almost identical.

"Were you nervous when you started here? Or were you more worried about Girard walking in on you while you were about to try on your uniform?" She laughed softly at her own joke, and her cheeks dimpled just the same as her sister's were prone to, lending an apparent brightness to her upturned eyes. It occurred to her just how different a life they had each led over the past five years, and really, she had no idea how Léa had felt during that time, save what she received in letters. Young as she was, Ellie knew that not everything in a letter could be trusted: the sender was always consciously or unconsciously under the influence of the knowledge that their words would effect the reader in particular ways. She did hope that it had all been as comfortable as she had intimated in her correspondences, and she was struck with a fresh delight at their reunion. It would be good to live together again, even without maman and papa. She was sure of it.
 
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Léa Lavoisier
Ellie pulled the hem of her sundress up and over her head, exposing her slender, nubile form to her sister with a casualness that left Léa delighted. Clearly her sister had no qualms about acting the way they used to and certainly underwear was nothing to be embarrassed about.Ellie had a similar build as Léa, but with smaller breasts and less curves. It was the skinny body of a girl still growing into a woman, but quickly now. Ellie's simple white bra and panties weren't the most flattering underwear, but Léa still found her eyes wandering down Ellie's figure with a little too much interest as Ellie leaned over the bed to grab the stockings.

With a sudden, strangled gasp, Léa realized that the embarrassing thrill of anticipation she had felt at the prospect of seeing Ellie undress hadn't gone away. Instead, the thrill had transformed into a voyeuristic enjoyment of the show that was unfolding! To Léa's horror, her body was reacting to the sight of her half-nude sister in a decidedly un-sisterly fashion. Her heart was beating quickly, hammering in her chest like at trapped animal, and she could feel a tingling warmth spreading through her body. But most disconcerting was the heat she felt between her legs, a heat that she knew by now was the wrong sort of feeling to have towards anyone that wasn't your husband. And definitely not towards your sister!

Léa was mortified and had to fight to appear herself as Ellie continued trying on the uniform. Were her fingers shaking as she helped Ellie pull on the stockings? Did she enjoy the touch of her sister's thighs too much as she tested the hold of the elastic at their tops? And was that relief or regret when Ellie finally pulled the black dress over her and covered the skin that seemed so tantalizingly near?

"Y-yes, I think we should go shopping," Léa said as Ellie examined herself. "It does appear a bit too loose and the dress should be taken in."

Léa's tongue felt thick and it was almost difficult to speak now. Her mind was roiling in a mix of excitement and shame that she was still struggling to parse. It was true that Léa had never really liked men. She'd known that from an early age and the one 'experience' she had with them early in her maid career was a bitter enough memory to have soured her on the sex almost completely. She felt lightheaded as the hidden, unspoken truth crept into her thoughts like some terrible monster rearing its head. Women had always been more... interesting. Her gaze had always lingered on the elegant ladies of the households she had worked with, her fellow maids, and even women on the streets. Of course, she'd always thought she was interested in their hair, their clothes, their make-up, or even their grace, but she couldn't deny that they held her fancy more than a handsome man. And then there were the maids she had worked with, some close friends of hers, others more distant, and she blushed thinking about some of the strange thoughts she'd had about them as she drifted to sleep. Thoughts returned unbidden to her as well of her childhood with Ellie, the things they had done in childish play. Those kisses, they had been play? Exploration, right? But to have these adult thoughts now with, of all people, her sister... was she a monster?

"I-i wasn't nervous here," Léa answered, swallowing and composing herself while giving Ellie a smile and squeezing her sister's shoulder lightly. "For my first job, when I was younger than you, I was terrified, quaking in my shoes. But don't you worry, this is a nice household and I'll show you around. Let's go out now, just remember to keep pulling up your stockings, and I'll show you around and explain our duties."

Léa led her sister from the room, exhaling deeply once her face was turned and urging herself to appear unperturbed. Resolutely, she told herself that the strange burst of emotion she had just felt was some lingering effect of not seeing Ellie in so long, an overflow of their past intimacy. Her mind not used to having a loved family member with her again. What she had felt was a strange yearning caused by her loneliness, nothing more. Right?


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Florent Guillory


"Mimi," said Florent with a soft sigh, "There is never a right time for a party. Why don't you treat this as something to keep you occupied? To make you happy again? I'm going to the parlor to have a drink."

He frowned at his silent wife and then shrugged, turning to exit their room and head downstairs.

Thoughts of his wife's moodiness had him in a bad mood, but once in the parlor he fixed up a gin with some tonic water, a lime and a couple ice cubes and relaxed on one of his leather chairs with the afternoon paper. Soon, she was forgotten as he lost himself in reading. A curious article about a local girl who had won a musical scholarship to the Sorbonne caught his eye. She looked hardly old enough for University and his thoughts drifted towards Ellie. Her bright smile and light dress were burned in his mind and he found himself wondering idly when he'd see her next.

At that moment, the door to the parlor opened and Léa entered with a slight curtsey and "Pardon." Florent waved her in casually and felt his heart skip a beat as Ellie entered behind her. Still as youthful as before, but glowing to his eyes with a seductive ripeness despite the drab maid uniform she wore. It was too big on her, with stockings that seemed to be sliding down her thin calves. Absurb, but very fetching for some reason.
 
"You're right," Miriame replied with a sigh, though she did not turn from the window and her voice sounded hollow, her words devoid of vérité. She did not wish to be occupied with the troublesome organisation of the party; she was content to wallow in self-pity, for at least that did not come to her as a challenge. He had suggested that it might make her happy again, but she could have laughed at that. Happiness was lost to her, she decided, and pursuing it would only prove painful and futile in the long run. There was too great a comfort in being sad.

The problem which Florent faced was not one easily overcome: his wife's depression was a self-feeding loop which she seemed to have completely embraced, accepting that she was depressed, and she did not believe in her own ability to fight it. And why would she? All of her needs were taken care of: she had nothing to fight for, not since Thérèse had left. She was almost numb by now, and only at the very depth of sadness did she ever long for an ascent to happiness or at the very least a reprieve from her melancholy. Most of the time, she hung in stasis in her seemingly infinite sadness.

Only when her husband departed did Miriame pull herself from the window and contemplate the idea that maybe she too should have a drink. I should greet the new girl too, she thought, and felt struck by a sense of duty which was the only motivation she had for doing anything nowadays. She sighed again, picked up a brush, and set to combing out her hair before she made her way downstairs to find Ellie. A lady of the house should always look her best, even if she had lost enjoyment in all that life had to offer.

In the parlour, the newcomer was once again besieged by nerves at the sight of her employer. She was sure she would settle in eventually, but for now - despite Léa's assurances - she was still anxious around the dignified gentleman of the house. She had rarely spent any time at all in the company of a man so well-presented and seemingly well-to-do, and though his manner was undeniably pleasant, his status was intimidating for the young country girl. Everything was so new... but again she assured herself that she would acclimatise. Mimicking her sister, she curtseyed, and with a little effort managed to look Monsieur Guillory in the face without averting her soft brown eyes. Somehow, the knowledge that Léa was by her side gave her enough strength to fight her inclinations to do so, and in the days to come she knew that her sister's presence would prove invaluable. About the house they would be co-workers and she would learn from the other's experience, but behind their bedroom door they would be sisters again, sharing their thoughts and providing each other with a comfort which would need no emphasis to be felt.

She did let her eyes wander for a moment as Léa explained that Ellie's uniform would need to be taken in - it was better to get such things out of the way immediately so that she could focus on settling in to her new job - observing yet again how much more lavish and elegant the château's contents were in comparison to the humble surroundings in which she had grown up. A different house, and a different world it seemed to be, and this was what lay at the very heart of her anxieties. She could handle new company, and she had known for a long time that one day she would have to enter the working world, but the fact that she was here in a strange house no doubt possessed of customs which were alien to her, that made it all more nervy.

"Bonjour, mes filles!" Miriame exclaimed, appearing in the doorway behind the girls. "You must be Ellie; Léa's told us so much about you. It's a pleasure to meet you, darling."

Madame Guillory cast a striking contrast to her husband upon first impression. Certainly her being a woman made her immediately less intimidating to Ellie, and she blushed slightly at the warmth of her greeting, forgetting all about her earlier reticence in vanishing without a hello. She still held a beauty which must have turned many a head in her youth, though signs of her ageing years had crept into the corners of eyes and in the dimples around her mouth. Her elegance was very befitting of the house, however, and the appearance of a third female in the room set young Ellie more at ease.

"The pleasure is all mine," she replied with a courteous bow, pleased that her mind had not frozen and had found what she felt to be a most appropriate response.

"I trust you're settling in all right? It must be so nice to see your sister again."

"Yes, madame. I'm sure I'll be very happy here. You have such a beautiful house; it will be my pleasure to maintain it for you."

"We'll see about that," Miriame jested, and with practised poise she kept up the façade of a fully-functioning member of high society. She certainly knows all the right words... but who could enjoy this awful, empty place? Her smile concealed her thoughts, mirroring Ellie's sweet smile before she raised her eyes to her husband. "What do you think, dear? Doesn't she seem a darling?"
 
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