This is a full-length novel at 112k words, available for free on Inkitt here. It's Downtown Abbey meets Pride & Prejudice - with spice! (I'm not sure if Jane Austen would be spinning in her grave or cheering me on...)

Synopsis:

“It is another example of the things we do that are well ahead of the times. Laxton is all about taking the pleasures we can find.”

Late nineteenth century England, and Emily is a young woman in need of an occupation. Her father has an acquaintance at the estate of Laxton, more than a hundred miles across the country. But Laxton is far more liberal and sophisticated than Emily had ever expected.  She is thrust into a world that pushes her limits and spares no blushes.

Among the other maids Emily soon makes friends, but it is Lucy that stands out: perceptive, beautiful, uninhibited and direct. Their relationship blossoms, despite the shadow of the intimidating Mrs Dempster.

Emily tries to find her place as she struggles with libertine social mores for which her upbringing has not prepared her.  Yet it is Mr Mills, the master of Laxton, that seems to take an interest in Emily. 

Why do all their interactions have to be so very complicated?

Excerpt:

I was a third of the way down the path when I observed two figures within the greenhouse, and almost immediately heard their voices. I stopped in surprise when I noticed that one of them was the footman I had already encountered twice already at my time at Laxton: once when he was busy spanking Sally on my first day; the other just prior to that event, when he had come up behind me as I left the washroom naked, save for a towel held only to the front of me, and commented on the niceness of my bottom. I blushed again at the thought, thinking what an eyeful he would have had.

The other person was one of the maids. She had her back to me, and I did not recognise her. They were clearly conversing, standing beside a long trestle table that ran the length of the greenhouse. Presumably it was used for various plant-related tasks, but it was mostly clear near where they stood, and the footman was leaning against it.

It was the body language of the encounter that, I think, made me pause to watch. He was relaxed, open; nonchalant even. In contrast, she seemed quite tense, almost anguished; though this was more of an impression, derived from the tension in her shoulders and the agitated way her hands moved as she spoke, as from behind her I could not see her expression. I suspected that they did not know I was there. Besides, they were clearly caught up with one another.

I crouched lower on the path to better see through the glass and hoped no one else came along. I was keen to see how this intriguing encounter resolved itself, and while in truth I was a little surprised at myself that I was spying, there was something quite compelling about their encounter: her body language in juxtaposed to his, and the tone of her voice too. It was frustrating that while I could just hear her voice – and his rumble when he occasionally replied – their conversation was too muffled to clearly make out the words.

Yet after a time listening and watching it seemed apparent that she was pleading with him. To the objective observer (which I fancied I was), his body language seemed quite open to whatever she was requesting, but nonetheless she continued to try to persuade, indeed, almost to wheedle and cajole, such was her intonation.

As I watched she moved to face him, he turning in kind to lean backward against the table behind him, and now I was presented with his back but her face. I knew I had seen her before, but I could not quite remember when or where.

His voice came through as a rumble, and though I could not make out the words the inflection seemed somewhat imperative. Her response was slow at first, yet as I watched, my eyes growing wider by the second, she raised her hands to the front of her bodice, and gradually untied the fastenings.

We both watched, he and I, as she pulled the laces loose all the way down, then took each side of the open bodice in her hands and pulled them wide, freeing her breasts from their captivity. I stifled a gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. She looked up at him in a way that could only be that of one seeking approval from another.

The footman watched, unmoving and saying nothing, apparently waiting to see what she would do next.