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deepperplexity · 5 months

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Prompt 1. Chimney Soot [A1]

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: Delaford Estate

A/N: IT'S THE FIRST OF DECEMBER AND RICKMAS2023 IS STARTING! 😍👏 We're kicking it off with our sweet Colonel Brandon - tbh it feels like a tradition to start with him now 😂👍 - and I'm so, so, so ready for this year's event to unfold. I have so many stories in my head I hope to write this year and there will be more longer fics (several parts) this year if all goes as planned too! IIIIIIIH I'M SO EXCITED!

Thank you for being here and know that no matter at what time you read my fics I always, always, always love to hear from my readers so even if you're here in 2027 don't hesitate to leave comments if you want to 🥰 I hope my writing shenanigans can spread some joy and warmth up until Christmas Eve and I am so THANKFUL to all who has messaged me through the year about being excited for this event - your encouragement means so much! THANK YOU! And let's get this show on the roa-, err, screen! 🤭❤

Tags/TW’s: Mentions [past lashings, past family trauma, lack of family], Hunger, Being Cold, Being lost in life, Old friendships, Being afraid/Feeling fear, “Want/Longing at first sight”, Hidden identity, Running away, Accidental embrace.

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Word Count: 2.9k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Snow flitted toward the ground; little lifeless flakes of frozen water droplets turned to crispy beauty. The first sign of the approach of true winter. You shivered and pulled your tattered cloak closer toward your body while the hem barely reached your ankles. The basket within your grasp was too heavy, the breaths you drew too cold.

Life would soon turn ruthless beyond compare for you. No home, no family, no sanctuary from the biting chill nor the clinging wetness of melting snow resting upon your shivering shoulders. Yet still, you walked on. The only one left in the world who would possibly offer help lived just beyond the hill you shakily climbed while the ground beneath your feet began to turn white.

Miss Mary had been a friend of your mother. The only one remaining after all the years of seclusion crafted by your father. He had always been a man of madness — of possessive rage, and harsh fists. Life, as you knew it, had always been cruel and unkind. From the moment you were able to hold a broom somewhat upright you’d been put to work by the man who created you and no protection had come from the woman who birthed you. May you burn in the fire pits of hell for all the years to come, you thought as you gripped the wicker basket with whitening knuckles.

The wind whipped your hair about, loosening it from both clips and bonnet alike. You lowered your gaze and trudged on, avoiding the flakes endeavouring to stab your eyes as you came to the top of the hill. You took no time to rest, merely following the road down toward the fork where you would take a left and hopefully within no time at all arrive at the estate. Please, please let Mary be there at this time…

The forking of the road came and went, your body turned nearly numb while the wind picked up all around. Then it appeared, like a fairytale castle nestled between old oaks and stretching walls of moss-covered stone. Light flickered in the windows, a warm glow calling out to stave off the encroaching night as the sun said its farewell and abandoned you.

Your feet felt like blocks of ice as you moved up the narrow stone steps at the back of the building, where servants entered the estate unseen by its owners and guests. You reached out and knocked, your frozen hand feeling the echo of the impact yet the numbness made you wonder if perhaps you’d merely graced the old wood.

The door opened a moment later, a wave of warmth from within flooding you for a second. “Yes?” said the older gentleman while holding a candle up to shed light upon your harrowed face. “Sir, I am Miss Y/n Y/l/n,” you began with a shake to your voice as you shivered profusely. “Does Miss Mary still hold a position in this household?” you enquired while raising your gaze toward the man who seemed somewhat friendly, there was no glare of distaste in his eyes at the very least. “Oh, she does, are you a friend of hers, Miss Y/l/n?” “My mother was, I do not know if she remembers me very well though.” “Well, step inside, Sir Brandon would be most unhappy about keeping a woman out in the cold while waiting,” the man continued and you scrunched your eyebrows, you were not sure who Sir Brandon was beyond being the owner of the estate and a colonel.

The man walked off in a quick stride while you stood just inside the door. You were too cold and wet for the warmth in the servants’ entrance hall to be of any real use to you so you kept shivering while remaining in your wet clothes which still had little flakes of snow stuck in the fibres.

“Goodness me,” a familiar voice said on a gasp. Miss Mary appeared in the doorway with her hand pressed against her chest in something you could only describe as shock. “Miss Mary,” you said with a quiver to your voice. “I’m sorry for appearing in such a manner, without an invitation nor a word of my arrival beforehand,” you continued quietly while you tried your utmost to hold on to the basket while your numb fingers ached with the prickling of needles as the warmth slowly began to thaw you. “Y/n, dear oh dear,” she whispered as she walked up to you, a sweet worry half visible in her features that had you sigh a deep breath of relief.

***

When morning came you were warm and comfortable for the first time since early summer. You hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in months and the rest had done wonders even if your entire body still ached from the backbreaking work you had managed to procure in recent times.

You wasted no time getting up and dressed. Just as you secured your tattered bonnet a knock came from the door. You opened it only to find Miss Mary with a bundle of neatly folded clothes in her arms, a warm smile tinted with worry gracing her lips.

“These are for you, dear,” she said and stepped inside before you closed the door behind her. “Master Brandon is a fine gentleman and I spoke to him on your behalf, you now hold a position here at Delaford.” You blinked at her words, unable to fully grasp them, or the ease she spoke of her master with. You had yet to meet a kind master; your doubt of the man was not unfounded but not supported either.

“I have work? Here? With you?” you asked, dubious but also relieved beyond measure. Grateful for Miss Mary’s kindness. “Not with me, dear. I am one of five housemaids, I am sectioned to the upper west quarters. I have procured you work as a scullery maid, Cook is a strict woman but fair. She sees hard work and those who do their due diligence under her are rewarded thusly. You will also keep the main fireplace in order, sorting the coal and wood stocking, sweeping the ashes, and polishing the spark guard. Mrs Thatch is old of age and struggles with this task of her allocated quarters, hence it now falls to you,” Miss Mary said, rattling it all off with precision while moving about in your newly acquired room — tugging at the faded curtains, straightening a pillow. The familiarity with her mannerisms and speech was a comfort to you, remembering it from many years ago when you had been but a tiny child.

“Thank you, Miss Mary.” She nodded at you with her tight but kind smile. “Miss Mary,” she said quietly, “been many years since I was called that.” “Oh?” “It’s Mrs Garber now, Y/n. And, as I’m sure you are aware, you are below my station and hence will call me by that name from now on. I shall call you by your first name, as is practice.” You nodded at her words, they weren’t spoken harshly, just in a no-nonsense sort of way.

“Well, Mrs Garber, thank you for all of this. I will do my absolute best so you’re pleased and stay in good grace with the master.” “Oh, I do not doubt it. Now, change into your new clothes after you’ve bathed, you reek of street and dirt. We cannot have that.” You blushed deeply. “I shall do so instantly.” “The kitchen is to the left of where you entered yesterday, you will find your way to Cook on your own?” You nodded and smiled at the kind woman before she left the room with another smile aimed at you.

***

Mrs Garber had been right. Cook was a strict woman, ruling her kitchen with a sense of urgency to everything. But you managed to keep up, managed to not be in the way while doing your tasks around the others flying about with spoons, pots, pans, chopping boards, and all types of food going from one part of the kitchen to another in a flurry.

You were putting back a giant pot you’d just scrubbed to an inch of its life — making the iron nearly shine in the dim light — when Cook told you to pay attention. It was first then you noticed the little bell to your right (one among many) was chiming gently. You wiped your hands, stowed away the rag, and grabbed one of the coal baskets before leaving the hectic kitchen behind. With the heavy basket in a tight grip you silently, stealthily, moved through the estate toward the main part where you’d order the fireplace as the little bell indicated needed doing.

The room was grand, with large pillars lining the walls in stony white and shining floors reflecting the warm glow of the chandelier high above. You did your best to keep to the outskirts, blending in as well as you could with the environment despite there not being anyone in the room. You picked up the pace, sat the heavy basket by the fireplace, and got to work clearing out the old ashes after placing a sheet beneath to protect the flooring.

After emptying everything, sweeping the last bit of dust out, and wiping the grills you leaned in to inspect the stone — making sure there was nothing left — only to look up and see a whole clogging of soot just beyond reach from your seated position. Oh, fabulous… That’ll take me up the chimney to clean. You sighed deeply and grabbed the poker next to the fireplace before crawling inside the fireplace to reach the clogging. T his hasn’t been cleaned in ages.

You squinted, aiming for the clog, only to halt mid-motion. You grabbed your handkerchief and tied it around your face to not inhale whatever was about to come down on you. You grabbed the poker anew, aimed, and jabbed at the nearly rock-hard piece. It took three hard jabs before you broke through the exterior and the heavens rained down soot and ashes atop you.

You didn’t have time to turn away, to back out of the tight space, or even cover your face before you were covered in grey and black. Glorious, perfect, now I’ll be dragging dust and soot all through the house! Mrs Garber will be scolded for making the master hire such a travesty for a scullery maid. I’ll be out on the streets again… Your thoughts swirled while your eyes watered as you kept working on clearing the clogging, you were already a complete mess of chimney soot either way, why not spare the others the suffering if you were already to be scolded for messing up the newly swabbed floors. Your hand fisted, but you resisted the urge to hit the hard surface around you in the tight space, breaking your hand would do nobody any good.

“I believed Santa Claus to be a red-dressed man,” came the most delicious, gravely voice. It echoed all around you in the tight space as your entire body froze. “It seems, I was mistaken,” the man continued and it sounded as if he were even closer. You looked down only to see the most handsome face peering up at you from below.

Your eyes widened, your mouth agape under the handkerchief as you took in the sweet smile, the flowy hair, the hooked nose and gentle eyes. “You are not the mysterious man of Christmas, are you, miss?” he asked and your knees trembled in secret — hidden behind your drab dress that used to be white with a black apron, it was now all grey. You managed to shake your head though, and he chuckled. The sweetest sound ever to grace your ears, amplified by the echo of the chimney you stood in.

“Miss, I believe this is the work of a chimney man, a sweeper.” “I-, I-, Sir, it was clogged,” you managed to say, even if it came out muffled. “I was cleaning the hearth, saw the clog and thought I ought to take care of it. It’s-, it’s a fire hazard. I wouldn’t-, wouldn’t want the grand colonel’s house to burn down, Sir.” “The colonel?” he asked, tilting his head, or, well, he tilted his head further — how was he even looking up at you? He must be bent most awkwardly. “Yes, Sir. The colonel who saw fit to hire even a scullery maid such as I,” you said. “Mrs Garber professes him to be a most wonderful master. I’ve yet to meet the man, but I dare say I shan’t have such a pleasure after the mess I’ve caused… Sir,” you replied in a near ramble, flustered by how the man peered at you most gently. Sweeter on the eyes than any man you’d ever witnessed before. The red coat with golden details you could just hint from his shoulder complimented his skin, his hooked nose was oddly beautiful paired with his strong cheekbones and thin lips.

“A wonderful master, you say, miss?” “Yes, Sir. Mrs Garber told me so.” “Will you step out of the chimney, this position hardly warrants for decent conversation, miss.” “S-sir, I am not one for you to hold decent conversations with, I’m merely a scullery maid.” He chuckled at that, again sending trembles through your already weak knees. “Miss, out of the chimney, if you please,” he said but his voice was gentle and calm, almost a hint of something warm to it. “We shall order a sweeper to visit, you ought not feel the need to take on such a task.”

The man disappeared from the chimney, making you realise his head had been right by those trembling legs of yours, far too close for decency but that was due to the lack of space of course. You drew a steadying breath and began to crouch, backing out of the fireplace with minuscule motions so as not to make the dust flare up. Your foot found the edge of the raised stone and you tried not to turn around too quickly even if your heart hammered at the prospect of seeing the gentleman fully.

You stood up too quickly. Your head banged the edge of the mantel, your other foot stepped right on the edge of the plateau, your trembling knees wobbled and you stumbled out onto to polished floor — your arms flailing, your dress swirling while spreading dust all over. No, no, no! You headed toward the floor in a dusty mess when the man caught you up, his strong body firmly pressed against yours as he took your weight with ease, not even faltering a single step at the sudden impact.

His hands squeezed around your waist, the warmth of his skin penetrating the two layers of fabric almost instantly while a tingle, unlike any other, shot through you. Your hands had grabbed his biceps, strong and unyielding beneath your palms. You blinked rapidly to clear the soot from your lashes while tilting your head only to find him peering down at you with those gentle eyes — a curiosity within them.

“Sir, I’m terribly sorry,” you exhaled shakily as he helped you straighten. Your eyes flickered away from him only to find a literal imprint of dust over his front, outlining you. “I’m terribly, terribly, terribly sorry,” you rushed out in a mere breath as you backed away from him, bowed and your eyes on the polished boots he wore. “Miss, are you well?” he asked while taking a step toward you. “Oh, I’ve made a mess of you, Sir,” you whispered while thoughts of being back out on the street swam through your head in a sea of fear and worry. Surely, the colonel will cast me out, making a mess of a guest of his. A guest so kind and sweet to boot too.

“The floors!” came a shrill old voice from behind you. “Maid! What have you done to the floo— And the colonel! ” the voice shrieked. Your eyes widened, your entire body draining of the warmth his gentle eyes and thunderously gravely voice had inflected upon it. The colonel? You wished to curl up right then and there, to disappear completely. “I’m-, I’m-, I’m so terribly sorry, Sir-, Colonel,” you squeaked, desperate to keep your tears from running down your soot-covered cheeks. It was useless. The clicking of servant heels from behind you, the nearly scrutinizing eyes from the man before you, the shaking of your shoulders, and the lack of breath in your lungs all had you in a vice grip of fear. Last time you left a stain on polished floors you’d endured four lashings over your naked hands. Hands you were now gripping tightly before you, wringing them and spreading the now moist soot all over them.

You couldn’t stay there. You had already made such a mess, made a fool of yourself, and created problems for the very man who employed you — probably out of pity, or worse because Mrs Garber stuck out her neck for you. You did the only thing you could do. You bowed as deep as your body would allow and just as the other servant with the shrill voice reached your side you bolted — spreading dust all around while running towards the kitchens to get to your room where you’d change into your own clothes and leave before any lashing could be given.

“Miss!” came that thunderous voice. “Miss, wait!” he called in a rush that managed to stroke your spine, within your skin. The most pleasurable sound you’d ever heard came from the man who employed you and whose clothes and floors you had just darkened with chimney soot and ashes — as if you were tarnishing the man himself with your very presence in his grand estate.

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: THE FIRST FIC OF RICKMAS2023! 😍👏 Oh I hope you enjoyed this little introduction to this yeas event - as you've probably noticed I am using a system of numbers and letters to make it easier to find which fics that belong to each other this year, I hope it'll be of help as I have hopes for doing several longer fics with several parts this year.

Anyway, I hope you're ready for another December of fan-derful reading, darling! 👏❤ Please do say hello in the comments if you want to, and as I've noticed it's sometimes difficult to know what to comment or find the courage to do so without any prompting I'm promoting you from the very beginning! 🥰

MERRY RICKMAS DARLINGS! 💚

I'll be adding a question in the End Note of each fic, so if you don't know what to comment you can always answer that if you want to let me know you're here and having a good time. I'll add my own answer as well! ❤❤❤

Q: Who's your favourite Alan Rickman character? 😍 A: For me it's Judge Turpin! 👀

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[Dec:2023]

#rickmas2023 #rickmas #colonel brandon #brandon x reader #alan rickman #rickmaniac #brandon fanfiction #colonel brandon fic #sense and sensibility #christmas fic

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