Bound Over

There was no time for regrets and no point in turning back.

She spotted the liveried chauffeur waiting for her on the platform and she couldn't stop a little frisson of excitement crawling up her spine. She stood still and waited for the driver to approach her. He did so solemnly, picking up her case and nodding for her to follow.

She squared her shoulders and strode towards the opened door of the vintage Rolls Royce. The blood pulsed hot in her face and she looked around to see if anyone was watching. She slid into the back of the car, swung her legs round and tucked her skirt demurely underneath.

A man's face appeared out of the gloom, startling her.

"Miss French," he pronounced, making it not a question but giving her her name. She held out a hand and then let it fall back into her lap as the greeting went unacknowledged.

"You were specifically told to bring nothing with you, were you not?" the man asked tonelessly.

"I ... I brought only the barest essentials," she laughed nervously, looking to him for an answering smile. There was none forthcoming.  Her laugh died and she muttered an apology.

"No matter. The driver will dispose of all your belongings." He stared at her. The protests that had risen to her lips died before she could give them voice.

Her heart raced at his words and the intensity of his stare. Her breast rose with the quickening of her breath and she looked to see if he had noticed. If he had he didn't show it.

"We have a little over twenty minutes to prepare you for your first audience with the master."

"Oh. I thought that you....." she stammered, and fell silent at his look.

"You thought what Miss French? You thought yourself important enough that the master would meet you from the train? I see that we shall need every second of those twenty minutes to prepare you." A hint of a smile played across his lips. The sight did nothing to reassure her.

"The first and most important thing for you to remember is that you are no longer of any significance. You have no name of your own, nor any will. " His voice was devoid of emotion. "You do understand me when I tell you that you have no will of your own?" He asked the question as though simply clarifying a point.

She bit her lip, nodded her head, and stared down at her hands as she did so.

"The second thing you must remember is that you are never to make eye contact with the master. Your head must always be bowed in his presence, unless he chooses otherwise."

He continued. "You are never to question any order given and you must never hesitate to comply with his wishes. You do not speak to him, unless expressly given permission to do so, nor seek to gain his attention.

"Look at me." His tone was firm and controlled. She lifted her eyes anxiously to his, her heart beating wildly in her chest. His look was cold and appraising and her stomach fluttered in response. She felt an unexpected moistness between her legs.

He turned his attention to the papers on his lap. She stared at the shuttered expression on his face. She wanted to ask, "How had she been chosen?" She wanted to ask, "What should she expect?" Most of all, she wanted to ask,  "Who was he?"

She kept silent.

He glanced up from his papers and caught her stare with a disapproving lift of his eyebrow. She lowered her gaze and listened as he told her more about her new life. She would talk only to those for whom she was expressly given permission. She would carry out her duties without question or complaint. She would report to Madame.

"Madame is to be obeyed at all times. Madame will be your mentor and the person to whom you will refer for clarification."

On learning that there would be another woman to confide in, she sighed with relief. He stopped and stared coldly into her reddening face.

"Madame will not be your friend. You will have no friends here. You would be wise to remember that."

He passed the sheaf of papers and a pen across to her. "I understand that you are aware of the benefits and rewards that this arrangement will yield. You now understand something of how things will be here. We are almost at the main gates. If you are still agreeable, I would ask you to sign at the bottom of the last page."

She leaned forward and plucked the papers from his outstretched hand. She gave them only a cursory glance, then signed her name – as he had known she would. His expression was unreadable.

She looked out of the window as the Rolls Royce drove through the huge gates. Gnarled oak trees lined the gravelled driveway and, behind them, as far as she could see, ancient woodland stood silent and watchful. The car swept round a bend and her eyes lit up as she glimpsed, high up on a hill and silhouetted by a setting sun, a tall, elegant folly. She smiled at the unexpected whimsy.

The man turn to her. His face was cold and hard. Her smile faded.

"We are approaching the house, " he stated flatly. "You will now remove all of your clothes ....."

AN: I am now in the process of completing and editing the finished story. If you would like to read what happens next please 'follow' me and I will message you when the story is updated.