The female shipping clerk

Chop-Chop stiffened as she looked through the door into the train compartment where she expected to find Old Netherwood's underbutler Hawkins.

"Hawkins?" Lucy called through the open compartment door.

"M-Miss Lucy?" a shaky voice replied.

Lucy's eyes focused on the unlikely scene of Hawkins standing behind a stout woman in railway clerk's uniform. Hawkins had both hands on her broad, bare rump as she bent forward, gripping the narrow shelf that served as her shipping-clerk's desk. From her viewpoint, Lucy could see that Hawkins' bare loins and the clerk's bare buttocks were bridged by Hawkins' male member. She suspected from the angle of Hawkins' shaft that their connection was natural sexual congress.

Hawkins and the clerk stood frozen, caught in flagrante by Lucy and the cook.

Lucy frowned. Surely the clerk should be at her duties rather than raising her skirts for Hawkins? But perhaps she had little to do while the train was underway and this was mere indiscretion rather than dereliction of duty. Lucy shook her head and returned to her purpose. "Hawkins, please find us in Compartment Three in the next car when you are able. Cook and I are on our way to Old Netherwood."

"Y-yes, Miss Lucy," Hawkins said. He released his hold on the clerk's flesh to touch his forelock in respect.

She laughed. "Carry on with your business, Hawkins, Miss..." she said.

The plump clerk blushed scarlet. "M-Miss Quill, ma'am," she stammered in embarrassment.

Lucy took the door handle from Chop-Chop and closed the door.

She lingered by the door for a moment, listening. Despite the rumble of the rails, a firm rhythm of skin slapping on skin and the counterpoint of manly and womanly sighs bore witness through the door that they had indeed taken Lucy's advice to carry on.

Not deeply embarrassed, then. Lucy smiled.

"Cook," she addressed Chop-Chop. "We should await Hawkins in our compartment, and I must return Mister Fitch's electric torch, but we may want to speak with Hawkins without his presence. Where do you think we should talk with him?"

"We have a coaling stop coming up, Miss Lucy," Chop-Chop said. "We can have us a little walk and talk then, pr'aps." Having not drowsed off like Lucy, she had a better sense of their progress.

Lucy and Chop-Chop returned to their compartment, now lit by the sunny window, and Lucy returned Mr. Fitch's torch with thanks. In a few minutes, Hawkins joined them, still pink-cheeked and looking abashed.

"Miss Lucy, Cook," he acknowledged them.

"Hawkins, thank you for joining us," Lucy said. "I have some private news for you later, and a few questions. But for now, I believe Cook has some questions about the order of the household stocks and the comportment of the kitchen help.

Their fellow-traveller Mister Fitch hid his face behind an edition of the Times as Cook nattered on with Hawkins. She questioned him about the particulars of the larder, the quality of fresh stores, and the fitness for duty of Old Netherwood's current complement of servants.

Presently there was a whistle and the train slowed as it approached a station.

"This'll be our coaling stop," Chop-Chop said.

"Hawkins, perhaps we can stretch our legs for a bit," Lucy said.

"Yes, Miss Lucy," Hawkins said.

"Will you want me, Miss?" Chop-Chop asked.