8 comments/ 40514 views/ 26 favorites Chelsea's Downfall Ch. 01 By: TheFallen27 Chelsea was a petite girl with pale skin and glossy black hair that constantly tumbled out of her cap in an unruly mass of curls. Men would consider her beautiful if they ever bothered to look but as was a mere maid of no rank, she rarely drew attention. She passed around the manor unnoticed, carrying out her duties. Chelsea was innocent and sweet and very pleased that she's managed to get a new job at such a nice house so she could earn a wage to send back to her family. Wrapping a cloth around her hands to prevent burns, Chelsea opened the oven and pulled out a fresh batch of bread. The smell made her stomach growl with discontent, but she ignored it and set the bread down on the table before sitting down to peel a sack of potatoes. "Get them done and then I need you to go set the table for tonight." Old Cook ordered from the other side of the kitchen, "And then get some food down your neck, you look half starved." Old cook was a strict woman who tolerated no nonsense in her kitchen, but she knew how hard Chelsea worked and felt sorry for the girl with ghostly white skin; she always looked as though she might faint at any moment. "I haven't had time to eat today, what with preparing everything for the feast and attending to the guest rooms." Chelsea sighed, "I'll be glad of a hot meal later." Old Cook glanced over her shoulder to make sure nobody was around and then spooned a generous helping of stew into a bowl. She set it down in front of Chelsea. "Here, I can't have you collapsing at the feast. Eat that and then you'll be able to go about your duties." Chelsea shook her head but her eyes had widened at the sight of food. "I couldn't!" She exclaimed, "That's for the feast tonight!" Laughing heartily, Old Cook shoved the bowl towards her. "Don't be daft, there's plenty and more for them upstairs." A pang of hunger made her tummy grumble yet again and she gave into temptation, spooning the stew quickly into her mouth as if terrified someone might come down and catch her. Manderly Manor was owned by Lord James Manderly and had been passed down through his family for centuries. He cared for his inheritance well, ensuring that it was well staffed and that the help was treated appropriately. He was a sociable gentleman who often held parties and feasts at the Manor and this weekend was no exception. Many gentlemen had made their way here and had gone out hunting with Lord Manderly that afternoon. They returned to the courtyard from their hunt with a clatter of horse hooves and shouts of victory as they threw their game to one of the stable lads and ordered it sent to the kitchen. "Good hunt, James!" Called a man, slapping Lord Manderly on the back, "I thought that deer was going to get away from you but you shot it right at the last second." "Quite." Lord Manderly said monotonously. He was in no mood to entertain his younger cousin, Henry Greene. He was under obligation to invite the man to his home once in a while to discuss family business, but James was an honorable gentleman and Henry, by contrast, was loud and obnoxious and it was rumoured that he has a bastard by nearly every girl in the village. "If you will excuse me, I must ensure that the dinner arrangements are going well. I'll have Geoffrey show you to your rooms." And with that the guests were whisked upstairs by Geoffrey the butler. Henry glanced about his room. It was big enough for his needs with a king-sized bed and a view of the grounds. Looking out of the window he could see the staff going about their work. Men were tending to the gardens and a boy was leading one of the horses around a field. He looked down and saw a girl in a maid uniform carrying a crate of wine bottles into the house. She stopped for a moment and he got a good look at her. 'Pretty' he thought. Her snow-white skin seemed iridescent in the sunlight and her glossy black hair was beginning to escape from her cap. 'How cute she would look blushed and naked.' He thought to himself. He observed her for a moment longer as she tried to shift the weight of the crate about in her skinny arms before heading inside, and before Henry knew what he was doing, he was out the door and heading down to the dining room. He caught her as she was on her way in, still carrying the wine. He watched her for a moment and found it amusing that her little white cap was slipping off her head with every step, revealing more and more of her ebony locks. He could tell from her worried expression that she could feel it but with her arms full, she could do nothing to set it straight. Finally it dropped to the floor and her hair tumbled beautifully down her back and around her face in wonderful shiny curls. She gasped, a tiny frightened sound that made a grin spread across Henry's face, and he stepped forward towards her. "You seem to have dropped something, Miss." He said, pointing at the scrap of white cloth at her feet. She watched him warily as he bent down and scooped up the cap. He held it out to her and nodded a small bow. A rosy blush spread across the flawless white skin of her face and she stared down at the wine in her hands, trying not to look at the rich Lord before her. She should apologize for what happened, or thank him for helping her, and yet no words would come to her mouth. Henry watched as her cheeks flushed and something stirred within him. This fragile little nobody had drew his attention. 'Stop it.' He thought, 'I can have any whore in the village and there are plenty of pretty noble girls attending tonight. I'm supposed to be here to talk business with my cousin, I can't get distracted by some child from the kitchens.' "What is your name, little girl?" He asked, trying to look at her face which was now hidden behind a curtain of jet black hair since she had ducked her head so far down to hide her blushes. She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to find her voice. "Chelsea, m'Lord." She mumbled, bobbing a tiny curtsy as best she could with her arms so full. Her voice was as soft as silk and very lightly lilted with her common northern accent. "Chelsea, eh? And how old are you Chelsea?" Her cheeks flushed some more and she squirmed a little under his scrutiny. "Eighteen, m'Lord." Eighteen! He would not have guessed anything older than fifteen, judging by her tiny, fragile frame and shy demeanor. By eighteen a girl should be much more comfortable in the company of men. "Well here's your cap." He said, dropping it onto the crate in her arms, but instead of drawing away from her, he took another step closer. Placing a finger under her chin and lifting her face toward him, he took a good look at her flawless face. Her eyes remained downcast and her long black lashes hid them from his sight. Her lips were plump and soft. Rose buds against her snow white skin. How he wanted to devour them! "Do more to keep it on your head in future." He said, releasing her chin from his grasp and gesturing to the cap. "We can't have all this hair out on display. It might inspire sinful thoughts." To demonstrate his point, he tucked a lock behind her ear, stroking her cheek as his hand left her face. She finally lifted her eyes to look at him for a moment and he felt his breath catch in his throat. They were a startling shade of sky blue and as wide as saucers. She looked terrified by his touch, much like a rabbit he had once found trapped in some bramble. He remembered how he was pointed his gun at the the little creature and its eyes had widened just like hers, and it knew it was helpless. It remained hypnotized, staring down the barrel until the moment he shot it. She looked down again quickly and took a step back. 'This will be by best hunt yet.' he thought. Chelsea's Downfall Ch. 02 Henry was rather enjoying the feast. The food was rich and filling, the wine constantly pouring, and the women beautiful. All that was left was for him to decide which he wanted for the night, though in truth he was growing rather bored with all of them. A tall, buxom girl in a gown of pale pink satin that showed off her deep cleavage flicked her blonde hair behind her in a manner that rather irritated Henry and giggled insipidly at something another gentleman had said. She glanced at him across the table with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and stroked her foot up his leg. Raising an eyebrow at her, Henry smirked and took a sip of brandy. These high born girls were as common as muck, and as wanton as any tavern wench once they'd had a couple of glasses of wine. "She'll do for tonight." Henry thought absentmindedly, "If nothing better comes along. She's pretty enough, and clearly willing. Her voice and giggles are quite annoying, but that can easily be rectified with a gag." His smirk spread as her foot found it's way higher up his thigh and he found himself imagining her swollen breasts bouncing as he took his pleasure from her. "More wine for the lady." he shouted, grabbing a passing servant by the arm in order to acquire the jug of wine she was carrying to another table. "Yes M'lord." The girl muttered, filled the lady's cup. Henry felt a tingle up his spine at her voice. Chelsea He looked up at her, and sure enough the pale little girl with curly black hair stood before him. His hand remained enclosed entirely around her skinny arms, and he drew her a little closer. "I'm glad to see you've managed to fix your cap." He said, rather loudly. "I assume the master of the house would be most distressed if you showed any neglect to your appearance in front of his guests." He felt a tremble run through her body. "Yes Sir. I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I promise it won't happen again." Her voice alone made him rigid with desire. Common yet respectful, and barely above a whisper. She also sounded terrified which was an aspect Henry had grown rather fond of in his women. Chelsea felt a lump catch in her throat and tried desperately to avoid making eye contact with any of the guests. She was shaking, as she always did when addressed by males, and having one touching her so inappropriately was giving her a terrible desire to run from the room. Relief flooded through her as the man's fingers released her arm and he dismissed her. She walked as briskly as she dared away from the table, and fled down to the kitchens. The colder air and the empty room allowed her to gather her senses a little. "Why am I such a fool?" She asked herself. She knew she could not carry on being so shy when serving at such large parties or somebody will more than likely express their disapproval to Lord Manderly and then she'd be thrown out with no job, no money and no way of getting back to her family up north. She filled a another two jugs with wine and composed herself before heading back up to the feast, hoping that her absence would not have been noticed. She entered the great hall and continued with her duties, filling up wine glasses where needed and clearing away plates when guests were ready to move onto the next course. She kept her eyes downcast and her hair tightly coiled inside her cap, though a couple of stray curls had managed to sneak their way out and bounced around her cheeks as she walked. Her evening serving dress, although set aside for formal occasions such as this, remained modest and drew no attention. Absorbed in her duties, she did not notice the man coming up behind her. "Chelsea." The deep voice growled her name, making it sound primal and almost rude. She spun around in shock, eyes wide and searching for the speaker, only to find herself looking into the deep brown eyes of the Lord she had encountered earlier. He was uncomfortably close, so she took a step back away from him. "M'lord." She said, bobbing a curtsy and dropping her gaze to her own feet. "I'll be leaving the feast early." He informed her, closing the gap between them with a step and pressing her against the wall. "See to it that a fire is lit in my room and turn down the bed." Chelsea blushed a sweet rose colour at his proximity and nodded. "Yes Sir." She whispered, barely audible above the din of the other guests. Henry couldn't help but feel pleasure at making the poor girl squirm. Her emotions and discomfort were written plainly across her face and her chest lifted and dropped with her panicked breaths. He placed a hand on her waist and splayed his fingers across her hip, and then leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'll see to it that you are rewarded for your excellent service." Chelsea trembled. How could he make such a remark sound so threatening? She bobbed another curtsy, desperately willing him to remove his hand before somebody saw. He granted that wish at least, and moved away quickly to rejoin his table, leaving behind a faint smell of brandy. Setting down the last of the wine, she set off to speak with Geoffrey. He was standing near main entrance to the hall in his evening attire and keeping a beady eye on the guests and staff alike. When he saw Chelsea approaching, he raised an eyebrow gave an imperceptible nod that was his way of giving permission to speak. "One of the gentlemen is planning on going to bed early tonight. He requests that his bed is turned down and a fire lit in his room." Chelsea said, her voice a little uneven. "Which gentleman?" Geoffrey asked, glancing about the room. "I believe he is Lord Manderley's cousin." Chelsea said, "On the table to the left." Geoffrey looked over and his eyes found Henry, who was now had his arm draped around the shoulders of the blonde lady and was whispering something in her ear that made her throw back her head and cackle obnoxiously. "Henry Greene." He said, disdainfully "Well, we're well staffed enough for the feast. You may go and see that his requests are met, and then get some sleep. I'm going to need you up early and in the kitchens to help cook with breakfast." "Yes Sir." Chelsea said, feeling relieved that she was allowed to leave the feast. She felt much more comfortable in her own company. She turned to leave as Geoffrey cleared his throat. "One more think, Chelsea." He said, "You'll find that Greene is a virile fellow. He likes his bed kept warm by willing women." He nodded over the where Henry was sat, now openly nuzzling against the lady's neck. "You are not to mention or gossip about this to anyone. It is not for us to judge those we serve and the entire staff need not know that Lady Westerling is enjoying his company at night if that is what happens." By his expression it was clear that Geoffrey disapproved of such a coupling himself, but Chelsea nodded and then made her way up to Lord Greene's chambers. It was a fine room, with heavy curtains, a thick carpet and well made draperies around a massive bed. A basket of wood and coal had already been sent up and sat next to the hearth, where Chelsea knelt down and began building the fire. Henry threw back another swig of brandy and glanced around at the other guests. All were merry, all were reaching a certain stage of drunkenness that would result in flirting and a lowering of inhibitions: an environment that he would normally thrive in. Yet all he could do was think of the little ghostly shy girl in his room, making up his bed. He stood up and left without excusing himself, leaving Lady Westerling looking somewhat bemused by his sudden change in personality. Only ten minutes ago he hadn't been able to keep his hands off her and now he was sauntering out of the room, swaying a little as he went. He realised that he had fallen victim to drinking too much the moment he tried to tackle the stairs. His head swam and he almost fell backwards but managed to grab onto the banister and steady himself. He proceeded to climb, albeit slowly and with caution, until he reached the second floor and could stagger safely to his room. After struggling with the door handle for a few seconds, he managed to fling open the door to his chambers and was greeted with the sight of a maid, bent over his bed and turning down the sheets. He smiled as her admired the view of her backside bobbing up and down, and then almost laughed when she turned around and jumped at the sight of him. "Please, don't stop on my account." Henry said, leering at her as he rested his head against the door frame. When she didn't move, he shouted. "Well get on with it!" She flinched at his raised voice but lowered her head and turned to finish off the bed. Her small hands were quick and dexterous, and the bed was done in no time at all. She leaned over and plumped the pillows and then turned to face him. "Your bed is ready, m'lord." She said, curtsying again. He found himself enjoying watching her curtsy. He liked the downwards bob of her head and the gesture of subservience. "Do that again." He requested, sauntering over. Chelsea looked up at him confused. "Remake the bed, Sir?" She asked, "Is it not to your satisfaction?" Henry shook his head. "Curtsy. Again." She glanced down at her feet and lowered herself into a curtsy again, this time more conscious of her movements. She waited in her bent position, and looked up at Henry with wide expectant eyes. "Lovely." He said, hiccuping. Chelsea rose and the corners of her mouth turned up in the faintest smile. At least she'd managed to get something right. Henry stood in front of her, looking down at her. He lifted his hand and clumsily tugged the cap from her head and dropped it to the ground, eliciting a frightened gasp from the servant. She went to take a step back away from him but one of his hand closed about her arm and held her firmly in place. "You don't have to hide such beauty from me." He murmured, raising his other hand and stroking the mass of loose black curls that tumbled about her pretty face. "Sir, Please!" She cried, trying to pull away. Henry barely noticed her resistance, momentarily entranced by how beautiful she looked with her hair loose. How her sky blue eyes widened in fear, and her hollow cheeks blushed pink below her milky skin. She tugged her arm harder with surprising strength for one so thin, yet it did nothing to loosen Henry's grip on her. He tightened his fist around a bunch of her hair and pulled insistently down on her arm, leading her to the bed "Please, Sir! I have to go, this isn't-" He quieted her by pushing her down onto the mattress where she lay silently for a moment before sitting up shocked. "The only place you have to go, is here." Henry growled, gesturing to the bed. Chelsea stared up at him, plainly terrified and quivering like a leaf in a breeze. Her pale skin was ashen and she looked almost as though she would faint. She opened her pretty little rose bud lips to protest again but he grabbed her chin roughly and lifted his face to his, smothering her complaint with a hard, unyielding kiss. Chelsea's Downfall Ch. 03 His lips pressed roughly against hers and Chelsea could feel them beginning to bruise. Her complaints went unheard as Henry curled his fingers around the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head backward and forcing his tongue inside her mouth to meet hers when he felt a sharp pain. He withdrew instantly, swallowing the metallic taste of blood. "You bit me!" He snarled. Chelsea backed away across the bed, trying to put some distance between them. She was in trouble now and she knew it but all she could think of was to get away. Growling like an animal, Henry grabbed her ankle and dragged her back towards him before raising his hand to teach her a lesson. He struck her across the cheek with enough force to send her spinning face first into the mattress. She let out a sweet little gasp of surprise and then turned to look back up at him, tears welling on her eyes and a bruise forming already across her cheek bone. "Sir, Please!" She cried, large tears spilling down her flushed face. "Please let me go." Even now she still had the audacity to question him. He watched her brush the tears from her cheeks and tenderly touch her swollen cheek bone where he had hit her, wincing as her fingers made contact with the bruise. Ever so gently, he cupped her chin in his hands and turned her face up towards his. "It's okay." He said, stroking her hair in what he clearly thought was a comforting manner. "If you do what I say, I won't hit you again. I promise. If you do stay here and do as you're told I shan't tell your master how you've displeased me." "D- d- displeased you?" She stuttered. "Displeased me." Henry confirmed, nodding. "And assaulted me." He gestured to his tongue which had stopped bleeding but still bore the marks of her teeth. Chelsea shivered violently, shaking her head and making her luscious curls bounce about her face. Even now, she had no idea how appealing she was to him, her snow white skin flushed with fear and bruising on one side, tears making her eyes shine, and her dress ruffled from her struggles. She tried to protest again but Henry pushed her back and pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her complaint. He leaned over her and whispered threateningly and his hand glided down her thigh. "Now are you going to be a good little servant or am I going to have to recommend your dismissal to my cousin?" His hand grasped the hem of her dress and began lifting it. "Henry?" A voice from the door startled them both and Henry span to see Lady Westerling in the doorway. "Elizabeth!" Henry greeted her, lurching slightly as he stood. Chelsea sat upright, still trembling and tear tracks visible on her face. She was grateful for the interruption but terrified and ashamed of what the lady must think of her, laying so suggestively underneath the Lord with her skirts about her knees and her stockings on display. "What's going on?" Lady Westerling asked, glancing at Chelsea as she attempted to right her appearance. "Is this maid being inappropriate, Henry?" Henry looked back to Chelsea's face longingly and then back to the Lady, angry that she had disturbed his plans. "Not at all. The poor thing fell and hit her face on the bed post." Lady Westerling walked over the Chelsea and lifted her face to inspect the bruise. "Clumsy girl." She chastised, "Get out and try to me more graceful in future." Chelsea nodded and scurried out, barely remembering to curtsey as she left. Lady Westerling perched herself on the bed, where Chelsea had been laying in shock only a moment ago, and pushed her gown off one shoulder seductively. "You left the feast rather abruptly, Henry." She whined, "I was rather hoping we could eat dessert together." Henry smirked and nodded. "I was hoping for that too, Elizabeth." Chelsea ran down the hallways and up the servants stairs to her pokey little bedroom as fast as her shaking legs could carry her. She was struggling to breath as she threw herself onto her bed, weeping. The other servants had yet to return from the feast so she had the room to herself for an hour or so more. She laid crying and shaking for a few moments before composing herself. It wouldn't do for anybody to discover her in this state. Quickly, as though scared someone may come in and see her, she undressed and dove underneath her thin bed covers. She lay there for some time, pretending to be asleep as the other girls came in and undressed and went to sleep themselves, too exhausted to chat about the feast. Chelsea could hear them snoring softly and Heather, who lay in the bed closest would murmur occasionally in her slumber, but sleep would not find Chelsea. She lay awake and rigid, unable to rid herself of the memory of Henry Greene leaning over her, his weight upon her chest and the smell of brandy in her nostrils. The sun finally filtered through the small attic window, making a pattern of tall shadows on the wall opposite, and Chelsea rose, wishing to start her work early in hopes that some honest labour would clear her mind. She washed and dressed and then headed down to the gardens, her hair falling in loose curls down her back. Spring had brought with it some lovely fruits and Old Cook wished to make the most of them so Chelsea picked all the ripe berries she could see and took them into the kitchen. Cook herself hadn't even risen so Chelsea made the most of the quiet kitchen and began making the bread. She had the first batch in the oven and was in the middle of kneading the second when Old Cook came in, a couple of other maids following her and rubbing sleep from their eyes. Mary and Jane were never of any use in the morning. "Heavens Chelsea!" Cook exclaimed upon seeing her work, "What time have you been up since, you silly girl?" Chelsea smiled wanly, plonking the dough into a bowl and covering it with a damp towel to let it rise. "I had trouble sleeping. I thought I might as well make myself of use." The other two girls smiled to each other and sat down, happy that their mornings' work was complete before they had even risen. Old Cook scowled at them and smacked them across their backs with a cloth. "Get yourselves up, you lazy wenches! You can go into the garden and gather the vegetables for lunch. Here's a list of what I need." Mary glanced warily at the list, refusing to take it. "I can't read." Cook rolled her eyes. "So you're stupid as well as lazy. Can you?" Jane was almost asleep again, leaning against the table with her eyes half shut. "Wake up you silly little girl!" Old Cook bellowed, making Jane and Mary both leap to attention. "Can you read?" Jane nodded sleepily "Yes Ma'am." Cook shook her head in frustration and thrust the list at the girl. "You go gather the vegetables. Take that basket with you." She turned back to Mary, "And you go to the larder and fetch a couple of wheels of cheese. Anything but the smelly stuff, you know his Lordship hates it." Chelsea didn't wait for orders but simply continued with her usual duties. It was always difficult when there were so many guests and Lord Manderly usually hired extra staff for the stay, but for some reason he hadn't on this occasion. This meant triple the work for all of the servants and some were less willing to pitch in than others. "Where's your cap, girl?" Old Cook asked, gesturing to Chelsea's loose hair. Chelsea swallowed and tried to push down the memory of Lord Greene sweeping it off her head and grasping handfuls of her hair. "I couldn't find it this morning. It must have fallen off somewhere and I didn't realise." She said, her voice shooting up an octave with the lie. Cook opened one of the kitchen drawers and produced a ribbon. She held it out. "Well at least get your hair tied back before I start cooking and singe it." Taking the ribbon, Chelsea thanked Cook and used it to pull her unruly curls back away from her face. She realised her mistake as soon as she saw the look of horror on Cook's face. "Where on Earth did you get that frightful bruise, young lady?" She blushed and raised her hand to touch the tender flesh around her cheek bone. The swelling had subsided but left behind a dark grey bruise that marred her pretty face. It was still painful to the touch and as her dainty fingers danced across it she was reminded of Lord Greene's anger. Hopefully she would be able to avoid him for the rest of his visit. "I fell." He voice was barely above a whisper. "You fell?" Old Cook asked, disbelief written plainly across her face. "Yes Ma'am. I was turning down the guest bedrooms and tripped. I hit my face on the bedpost." It was the lie Lord Greene had told Lady Westerling. She thought if she had to lie in order to maintain her dignity, she might as well be consistent. James awoke to the feel of Lady Elizabeth Westerling's tongue gliding over his manhood. She took him in her mouth and began to move her lips up and down his shaft like she was born to do it, and yet he felt nothing. He's fucked her last night with the thought of Chelsea still in his mind and keeping him rigid, but now in the cold light of morning, he wanted the real thing. Lady Westerling bored him and he'd already taken as much pleasure from her as he thought she could offer. "Stop." She did. She looked up at him with droopy tired eyes and spittle on her lips. "Problem, Henry?" She enquired, tilting her head to one side to make her messy blonde hair swish across her shoulders. Henry would have found her attractive once, but now she was the same as every other whore he'd fucked. Used. Like bad meat. And he knew he certainly hadn't been the first. By the loose feel of her flesh, many other men had gone there before him, though there were no rumours of the Lady being anything less than virtuous. He wanted Chelsea. All he had been able to think about all night was her sweet face and now that he was sober enough to think clearly he could come up with a more cunning plan than simply ravishing the girl as she was turning down the bed. If word got to his cousin that he was assaulting the staff, Lord Manderly would send him away. He would have to be clever about it. Surely the little waif would be serving breakfast. He could begin there. "What are you thinking about?" Lady Westerling asked, her voice whiney and incessant. "Breakfast." Henry stated. Then he stepped out of bed and dressed without giving her a second glance.