The Housemaid Sarah Denzil Novels & Stories

"So you are a widow?! How many children do you have? You are 39 years old. Your appearance is also clean. I like it," said the Old Madame who sat on the sofa. She held my application letter that contained complete files about me. The only last diploma degree that I did not attach to it. It is too high applies to be a maid, it might be rejected after. She is around 75 years old, looks very rich and classy. Silk dresses, sparkling jewelry and bun hair showed her class.

Olivia smiled, “enjoy, son. We are getting late. Nicholas smiles and kisses his mom's forehead, and the couple leaves. Nicholas shows Sarah to his little bar and goes to his room. She was standing there and didn’t understand what she had to do. After a while, a maid who was in her 40s came and A Maid asked her, "what are you doing here, honey?" “I’m Sarah Lewis. I am Mr. Nicholas Hill’s assistant." she replied with smile. "Oh, dear, it’s nice to meet you. I am the head maid of this mansion, but what are you doing here in the bar?"

“No, Helga. Her one suitcase is still missing.” “If you want, you can ask Maria to bring it to you,” Helga suggested on the phone. After Helga, Maria was the second senior maid of the mansion. When Helga left, Maria started heading the servants. “No, Helga. I want to do it on my own without involving anyone. I will myself go to the storeroom and get her suitcase.” Before Helga could say anything else, Sarah hung up the phone. Flashback ends. *** “So, you mean to say is…” I closed my eyes thoughtfully, “Sarah might know about my stuff?”

It was usually empty this time of day, but as I rounded the corner, I saw a flash of fabric. A girl was scurrying away from the direction of Genevieve’s room. She was hunched over, clutching something to her chest, her eyes darting around like a thief. I recognized her. It was Sarah, the maid from the laundry. The one who had given the testimony that broke my brother. “You,” I called out. The girl jumped nearly a foot into the air. She spun around, her face turning a ghostly shade of white. She looked like she was about to faint.

The echoes of his nightmares and the weight of guilt leave Dean in a state of profound unease, caught between the waking world and the remnants of his troubled sleep. He emerges from his dimly lit room, nearly colliding with Sarah, who had just settled Jane into sleep. "Sir," the housemaid utters with trepidation. "Where is she?" He questions. "In the room, sleeping," Sarah responds with bitterness. "Why is she in the room? She doesn't have the privilege to sleep in a comfy bed. Put her back in the basement," he demands, moving towards Jane's sleeping quarters. Sarah, however, blocks the closed door.

It was one of the other maids, a quiet and reserved girl named Sarah. "Delilah, I need to talk to you," Sarah whispered, her eyes darting nervously around the room. I nodded, my heart still racing. "What is it, Sarah?" I asked, trying to keep my voice low. Sarah hesitated, glancing around the room again. "I don't know if I should be telling you this," she said, "but I think you need to know. It's about Betty... and what happened to her." My heart skipped a beat. "What do you know?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Interesting people?" Sarah thought for a moment before realizing who Denise was referring to. "Are you talking about that woman? The one with Mrs. Clemens..." The word "humiliate" almost slipped from her mouth, but she quickly bit her tongue and rephrased, "The one who made things difficult for you." "Her name is Candice Hale." "I don’t remember her name, I only remember her seductive fox-like face." "That’s her." "How did you know she came to Shandor? And that she’s over at Grandma’s place?"

she spat at me, her words dripping with venom. Since morning, my head had been throbbing relentlessly, my dizziness growing with each passing moment. Mrs. Jane had demanded that I cook food for her friends, a gathering of twenty people coming over for lunch. Despite my fever steadily rising and my headache intensifying, I had spent two arduous hours in the kitchen, mustering the strength to prepare the meal and serve it to the guests. My eyes felt heavy, struggling to remain open, and in my exhausted state, I accidentally spilled stew on Mrs. Johnson's dress.

Grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand, my hands shook so badly the water spilled over the rim. The heavy oak door clicked open. Sarah stepped into the room, pushing a rolling housekeeping cart. Her graying hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and deep laugh lines framed her sharp, observant eyes. As one of the oldest maids in the Northern Peak, she commanded more respect than half the perimeter guards. "Just doing my late-night sweep," Sarah announced, kicking the door shut behind her. She took one look at my flushed face and shaking hands. A knowing, wicked smirk instantly spread across her wrinkled face.

A strange flutter started low in her belly, spreading outward like ripples in water. ''What the hell was this?'' She'd never felt anything like this. Had never experienced attraction this immediate, this overwhelming, this visceral. "Mr. Blackwood," Elizabeth said smoothly, though Aria detected a hint of surprise. "I wasn't expecting you until later. This is Sarah Mitchell, our new housekeeper. She'll be starting tomorrow." "Will she?" It wasn't a question. Damien's gaze hadn't left Aria's face, and she found herself unable to look away. Couldn't have looked away if her life depended on it.