Unintended Consequences -New Victorian Story plus Illustration

 

Below is a new story and set in the Victorian era. The illustration is in the body of the text.

Unusually for me, when I began this I had the ending in mind so I thought it would be reasonably short and easily completed, but…  the best laid plans of mice and men, etc etc., naturally it didn’t work out that way. If I was to complete it as single piece it would take another few weeks if not longer and that would have been far too long between posts so I felt it better to split it into two parts.

At the moment I’m not sure whether I’ll complete this story first or the next (and hopefully final) chapter of LLD. Time as always is an issue and my head needs to be in the right place. Disjointed and not the ideal way to post stories I know, but as always I’m hoping readers will overlook this and bear with me.

Hopefully you’ll enjoy it.

Take care and stay safe.

Carrie

 

Unintended Consequences.

By

CarrieP

 

Part 1

 London circa 1890

R

eturning to London from his tour of Europe’s major cities was deeply irritating for Claude Fingal- Burke. He had been press ganged into accompanying his overbearing mother, Lady Constance,  on this boring journey with her equally tiresome squadron of other society matrons, first  to take the waters in Baden Baden  and then on to Bayreuth to sit through days of that dreadful Herr Wager’s interminable operas. However he had managed to hatch a cunning escape plan that would see him vanish in the night and make his way to the more entertaining fleshpots of Paris. To her great displeasure Lady Constance only became aware of her only son’s absence in a letter he had left the morning after he had taken an overnight train which ensured he was well beyond her reach by the time she rose. He knew she would be unable to follow him as she and her companions were invited as special guests of the maestro himself.  Naturally the only reason he had left his intended address at the Paris Ritz was for her to forward sufficient funds to finance his licentious escapades. However he never fully considered his plan as within a day of his arrival he had been summoned by telegram to London by his mother’s elder sister, his aunt, Lady Emily. And as Aunt Emily as the family’s matriarch controlled the purse strings he had little option.  The following morning a sullen and extremely disappointed young man boarded the ship at the northern French port of Calais bound for Dover and then on by train to London.

 As the train made its way through the green fields towards the city he had plenty of time to think about the error he had made and resolved not to repeat it the next time he would manage to slip the bonds of his mother and her entourage’s suffocating company. He really should not have been surprised when he read the telegram from his aunt insisting on his return, after all  this was not the first time he had absconded from his mother’s company to follow his reprobate male desires. In retrospect he should have been a little more clever and allowed longer periods between his treks to the continent’s liveliest and welcoming cities, it would not have caused as much suspicion among his older female relatives. His latest disappearance had apparently created an even bigger furore and it was quite obvious from the tone of the telegram Aunt Emily was not amused by his latest antics.  As a male he had more latitude than his female cousins but it seems he had reached the limit of his mother’s and Aunt Emily’s patience. However he was quietly confident that he could mollify her by concocting a story about a friend in need of his help or perhaps a tale about visiting some charitable foundation for injured racehorses. His aunt, being a patron of a similar foundation in Ireland would no doubt understand this, he had concocted similar stories on many occasions without his lies being discovered. Of course he would have to show contrition and utter the obligatory mea culpas but he was confident he would leave her house secure in the knowledge that the necessary finances would be transferred and perhaps after a day or two’s stay with her to worm his way back into her good books and restore the family’s equilibrium he would return to Paris and recommence his activities. As usual after devising such a masterful plan he congratulated himself on his remarkable ingenuity.

 Now as the cab pulled up to the grand town house in  Mayfair’s most fashionable street he had polished and honed his story and his self-assurance grew that, as on several occasions in the past,he once again could charm his aunt. He knocked loudly on the door with his silver topped cane and stood back smiling as he considered just how clever he was.  The door was opened as usual by Jane, the head housemaid. Most unusually for such a grand London house, his aunt like his other aunts and mother, did not employ a butler or indeed any male domestic staff. He always thought this very strange but passed it off as yet another family quirk. Houses inhabited exclusively by women, with their ceaseless feminine chatter and suffocating attention on him was no life for a young man about to enter university. Everywhere he turned he was in danger of being engaged in some tedious feminine conversation about the latest Paris fashions, perhaps asked his opinion about a certain hairstyle or which gown was more suitable to wear to certain parties. It was a dreadful existence.

 “Good morning Master Claude.” she said and smiled as she bobbed a curtsy. “The mistress is expecting you, she’s in the blue drawing room.”

A reasonably attractive girl her, if a little well built and on the tall side, her figure no doubt enhanced by her corset which was clearly defined under her uniform ensuring her breasts were given the prominence they deserved.  He had managed to brush against and even tried to feel them on a few occasions when they were alone and although she struggled and objected he somehow felt she may have enjoyed the experience nevertheless he stopped the practice when she threatened to inform his aunt.  Although Claude doubted very much that his aunt would believe her after all the girl was only a servant. However, Aunt Emily, unusually for the mistress of such a grand London house, seemed to have a close almost intimate relationship with all her domestic staff and as such he did not wish to arouse any unnecessary suspicion.

“Ah there you are Claude.” his aunt said her eyes drawn away from the letter she was reading and now cast them rather coolly on him. “Unfortunately we do not have time for tea as I have a pressing appointment with the family’s financial advisers. You will accompany me and explain  why exactly you abandoned your mother in Baden Baden.”

Rising with a well practiced grace from her seat, she adjusted her dress to her satisfaction before glancing in the mirror and after ensuring every hair was in place she sailed effortlessly across the drawing room floor. The unmistakable rustle of silk and taffeta filled the room and coming to a halt before him she proffered her cheek. An observer would usually interpret such a gesture as one of familial affection however Aunt Emily considered it more an invitation to display the required deference.   

Of course Aunt Emily.” he said as she approached and although he disliked the gesture, thinking it too effeminate,  he nevertheless  steeled himself and kissed her on both cheeks. In his experience to do otherwise would not have been wise.

The last thing the young man wanted to attend was a conference with boring bankers and tedious lawyers, however refusing Aunt Emily would be tantamount to committing financial suicide. He concluded that it would be in his long term interest to accede to her request, besides once he had appeased her obvious irritation with his concocted tale about injured racehorses he would be in an ideal position to ask for an advance on his inheritance. Settling on this as his plan he summoned up one of his warmest smiles and extended his arm.

“You always had such a charming smile.” she said in a more conciliatory tone , placing her arm on his and glided towards the door and as Jane appeared and removed a parasol from the umbrella stand she added “All my friends thought you so precious as a child.”

When made in private such comments were extremely annoying to him as they raised deeply embarrassing events from his past, so embarrassing that he had tried and failed to gently admonish her on several occasions. But even more distressing was when similar remarks were made in front of the servants. And with good reason, from the corner of his eye he could see Jane smirking, it was most disagreeable but considering his aunt’s poor view of his recent behaviour he felt he could not afford to show his displeasure. Hoping she would not continue in this vein before they reached the front door, he held his tongue and continued to smile through gritted teeth. Unfortunately this was not to be the case as his aunt, like most fashionable ladies, could not resist the temptation to pass by another mirror without gazing into it to insure every hair had remained  in place and every fibre of her costume had not been somehow disarranged from her last appearance in front of the drawing room’s mirror. He stifled the urge to make a sarcastic remark, now was not the time to risk his advance.

“Do you like this dress?” she asked as she straightened her heavy silk skirt eliciting another rustle from her taffeta and satin petticoats. It was a dark wine-coloured velvet gown with a long -waisted bodice laced down front, a high collar enhanced her slim neck, the red satin facing skirt had a large bustle and pleats at the side, both heavily decorated with red glass beads and bugles.

In the mirror he could clearly see the reaction of his aunt’s servant girl. Her face wore a look of open ridicule making no pretence whatsoever at disguising her amusement.  Irritated at her impudence he wanted to rebuke her but his aunt seemingly oblivious to the maid’s impertinence continued to preen herself in front of the mirror. He knew his aunt would soon demand an answer and the last thing he wanted was an admonishment from her in front of a housemaid.

“Yes…yes Aunt…very nice.” he replied, swallowing his pride trying his best to ignore the girl’s sneer.

“I’m not too pale for the colour?” she continued as she turned to view herself at another angle.

“No…no, not at all, it suits you perfectly Aunt Emily.” he said trying to contain his impatience and wishing they could leave before his aunt embarrassed him even further and although not looking at the servant girl was in no doubt she was deriving great amusement from his aunt’s  ghastly questions.

“There is a slight chill in the air, do you think four petticoats are enough, darling.” she extended the awkward conversation however he noted that her toe was most cordial and she did use the word ‘darling’ which he took to mean his innate charm was working its magic once again.

The bigger prize loomed large in his mind and this was no time to let it slip despite the shameful hoops he would have to jump through. A quick and discreet glance at Jane confirmed his worst suspicions. Her eyes met his , the mockery quite clearly on display and he thought she was struggling to suppress outright laughter. He steeled himself to answer.

“Emm…ah… yes… Aunt…yes…”he stammered as another housemaid appeared from the servants stairway “Perhaps we should leave.”

“Yes my dear, in a moment.” she said rearranging a hairpin that she seemed to thing had come slightly adrift. “Louise, my new lady’s maid suggested I wear four and advised that the latest Paris fashion requires an extra taffeta one to give extra volume .  It’s a new shade of pale pink.”

No. he prayed in  silence. Please Aunt…don’t…

His silent supplication fell on deaf ears as his aunt lifted her skirts to display an array of lawn, silk, satin and taffeta in similar hues of pink.

“I like the way the hem is gathered on the satin one, don’t you?” she enquired, apparently unaware of the deep embarrassment such a question would cause a red-blooded young buck. “Actually now that I look at it there maybe something caught in the stitching. My maid should have spotted that, be a darling boy and remove it.”

Under normal circumstances Claude would have refused point blank and in the process make some sarcastic remark about such a task being beneath a male of his standing. However his razor sharp intellect immediately concluded that this was a test of his character and his usual reaction could have a very negative effect on his immediate financial prospects. He decided his aunt’s good mood and the benefit he would derive from it would not be worth the risk a refusal would bring.

Another furtive glace in the mirror confirmed his worst fears. Jane immediately recognised and was delighting in his discomfort and with her smile of derision now lighting up her face decided to increase humiliation.

“Oh look I can see it.” she offered helpfully “Just above the mistress’s boot. I’m afraid you will have to get on your knees, Master Claude.”

“I…ahh…emm…”he hesitated as the girl continued to point at his aunt’s raised skirts exposing her highly polished three inch heeled boot.

“Claude!” his aunt called to him with more than a hint of impatience in her voice yet she seemed to ignore the obvious delight on her servant’s face at the young man’s discomfiture.

 Swallowing a very large piece of male pride he felt the sooner he completed his shameful chore the better and lowered himself onto his knees  to locate the offending article. Finding the piece of coloured lint he quickly discarded it and began to rise.

“Is everything all right Madam.” another female voice enquired but on his knees he could not make out its owner and was just about to raise himself when his aunt issued new instructions.

“Stay where you are Claude.” his aunt instructed before addressing the new arrival ”No Louise, it appears there was some lint on my petticoat.”

“Oh I’m terribly sorry Madam. I thought I had checked all of them before I dressed you.”

From his kneeling position he deduced that this was his aunt lady’s maid and from the tone of her voice was not pleased.

“Well obviously not. My nephew is now kindly doing what you should have done.” she said testily before returning her attention to Claude,

“Now that you are there, dear boy, you may as well check my other petticoats. I’m sure you will be a little more conscientious than my lady’s maid.”

Claude cringed at the words yet from his kneeling position was, in some perverse way, relieved that the women that stood above him could not witness the deepening blush now developing in his cheeks. He was even more relieved when his aunt addressed her maid, diverting the women’s focus away from him.

” You have become a little lax in your duties lately, my girl. This is not the first time this has happened.” she admonished her  maid“ I considered you were making progress and thought  I had you reasonably well trained but it appears  I may have been wrong , I’m afraid you made need some correction to ensure your concentration is completely focused on your mistress’s needs and not your own.”

With his aunt fixating on berating her maid, Claude felt his cheeks burning with shame and his body arranged in the most undignified position for a male, he did not wish to draw unwanted attention to himself. He continued silently with his degrading task, lifting and separating the various hems of the petticoats, locating and removing a stray thread from the taffeta petticoat and some stray fluff from the satin one.

“Yes Madam.” Louise answered with a curtsy and with eyes downcast murmured softly “I understand.”

“You can see how diligent my darling nephew is.”Aunt Emily continued and although he was not in a position to observe it, could nevertheless feel three pairs of female eyes on him.

“Yes Madam.” he heard a timid voice say.

“You could learn a thing or two from him about how to perform your duties.” his aunt lectured her maid.

“Yes Madam.” came the reply, his cheeks grew warmer and he thought he heard the faintest snigger from another female voice.

“Please check the back of my skirts Claude.” his aunt instructed him, the irritation in her voice quite evident. “This girl was obviously not mindful of her obligations as a lady’s maid when dressing me.”

On a number of occasions he had been on the receiving end of her reprimands and almost felt sorry for the girl and knowing that once his aunt became irritated it would be difficult to placate her. He also knew that a refusal or even hesitation on his part would surely transfer her anger from the maid to him, this would not auger well for his impending visit to his aunt’s bankers or indeed for a positive outcome for his financial future

He immediately complied and while she continued to berate her lady’s maid he shuffled on his knees to the back of her skirts.

“Let me help you Master Claude.” Jane offered with undisguised glee as she lifted her mistress’s skirts and gestured for him to continue his demeaning chore as she supervised to the background sound of his aunt’s ongoing upbraiding of her maid.

“You will leave the paddle on my bed and I will deal with you on my return.” her mistress concluded her scolding, issuing further instructions before the girl was allowed to leave.

Again he felt a degree of sympathy for her maid as he knew from experience what his aunt’s instruction to leave the paddle on the bed meant. As she would go about her duties the paddle would constantly remind her of what lay in store on her mistress’s return.

“There are no further stray pieces of thread or other material.” he said lifting himself from his kneeling position, his shame prevented him adding the words ’on your petticoats’.

Jane, however, had no such qualms.

“Master Claude was most assiduous in his task, Madam.” she gushed in faux admiration, only too eager to inform her mistress while heaping yet more ignominy on the young man who seemed to have visibly shed several  degrees of masculine confidence.

“Such a nice compliment.” his aunt remarked and as Claude fought against his natural reaction to rebuke the girl, his aunt continued “Where are your manners Claude?”

Mindful of his long term goal he convinced himself that now was not the time to vent his feelings and once more swallowed his pride and mumbled a grudging and dishonest ‘thank you’.

“Please ensure my skirts are arranged correctly at the rear, Claude?” Aunt Emily continued his torture. “I do not wish to be embarrassed by a display of petticoats.”

Silently, and under Jane’s continuing sneer, he complied with his aunt’s instruction and aligned the heavy satin skirt so it fell correctly from her bustle.

Completing his latest demeaning assignment he stood back allowing his aunt to view the results for herself in the full length mirror.

“Excellent!” she announced  as her hands moved over her skirts fluffing them out gently yet never taking her eyes off her nephew“ I’m so glad you have not forgotten how  to arrange a lady’s dress.”

As Jane looked quizzically at her mistress, Claude’s eyes fell to the floor.

“Master Claude was most helpful to me several years ago when my previous lady’s maid was indisposed for several weeks.” his aunt explained to her housemaid who looked at Claude before returning her attention to her mistress. 

Claude could feel the nascent beginnings of a temperature rise in his cheeks and wanted to interrupt his aunt but although he had formed the words in his brain his mouth could not deliver them.

 “Oh yes, he was quite invaluable.” Aunt Emily, to Claude’s mounting consternation, persisted in her account of this brief but shameful period in his life “Well at least once I had trained him properly in some of the more elementary duties of a lady’s maid. How to arrange my gowns in the correct order in my dressing room, ensuring my intimate linen was pressed and scented,  my petticoats were separated by material and colour, corsets folded properly with the laces adjusted correctly and so on. “

“Master Claude really is a most obliging young gentleman, Madam.” Jane said earnestly as she busied herself brushing some invisible detritus from her mistress’s shoulders but Claude could easily detect more than a hint of derision in her voice. It was obvious his aunt did not share his view and smiled at her attentive servant.

“Well not exactly at first Jane.” His aunt answered, still inspecting herself in the mirror and laughed lightly as she continued  “At the beginning he was a little rough at brushing my hair, which I suppose was only to be expected for a male unused to the task of a lady’s maid, however with the proper guidance he quickly became proficient and to this day I have never had a maid brush it like he did. Of course it took a little longer to teach him how to arrange some basic styles for a  lady’s hair however over several weeks he became reasonably competent in braiding and became quite adept at arranging elaborate chignons.”

Claude’s cheeks flushed crimson once more and felt the urge to scream in protest at his aunt’s dreadful and unfair portrayal of him as some sort of male lady’s maid. As he was about to launch into his diatribe Aunt Emily suddenly decided she was presentable to appear in public.

“Yes quite satisfactory.” she said turning away from the mirror “It’s time we were on our way.  Come along Claude stop dithering and do take that strange look off your face, it makes you look like a slightly distracted sheep. And straighten up for heaven’s sake I do not like you slouching.”

Her undeserved criticism hit home and his planned tirade along with another layer of his self –esteem suddenly melted away. Deflated, he followed her along the hallway and reaching the door Jane hurried to open it. The mid-morning sun was peaking over the roof tops and Claude felt a warm breeze drift into the doorway, soon he would be free of Jane and her smirking face and after he had concluded his business with his aunt he would return to Paris and not see her again.

“Your parasol, Madam.” Jane said, offering a salmon pink parasol to her mistress.

“Master Claude will take it.” she responded gesturing to the young man. “A gentleman’s place to assist a lady, is that not so Claude?”

Wordlessly he took the object from the maid and tried to put a brave face on yet another degrading activity he had to undertake.

“Of course, Aunt.” he lied and followed her out the door but not before glaring at the impertinent housemaid who in turn taunted him with a blatantly broad sneer as she closed the heavy door behind him.

Now finding himself in the street holding a frilled parasol Aunt Emily informed him they would take some exercise by walking through the park and instructed him to tell the carriage driver to meet them at the other side of the park where they would continue their journey.

Entering the park Claude noticed of all the ladies they encountered he was the only male holding a parasol for their companion and  to his great embarrassment drew amused stares from the well dressed girls of his own age accompanying middle aged matrons  who were, like his aunt, rigorously corseted and obviously amply petticoated. He took these girls to be their companions, daughters or nieces but as to their looks, pretty or not, he could not tell as his eyes were downcast from the shame he felt performing such an emasculating task. His spirits rose somewhat as they neared the park’s exit and he thanked his lucky stars he had not encountered any acquaintances. However within feet of the exit they were stopped by a forceful female voice.

“Emily darling.” the voice greeted his aunt and the obligatory kisses were delivered to each cheek. “I missed you at the opera last week.”

“Yes Cecily, a mild headache nothing serious.” his aunt replied as the woman raised her lorgnette and inspected the parasol carrying youth.

“Such a sweet young man.” the woman gushed “and what long eyelashes to accompany those expressive eyes. And such luxuriant hair, my daughters would be so envious.”

Claude somehow found the strength to stop himself from wincing at what she no doubt considered a compliment about his features. After all it was not his fault that he was cursed with what could be considered less than manly looks.

“My dear sister Beatrice’s son, Claude,” Aunt Emily introduced him to Mrs Cecily Domhurst “And don’t let those delicate facial qualities fool you Cecily. He may look pretty but he has all the ghastly characteristics of the dissolute and morally ill disciplined male.”

“Surely not!” the other woman said incredulously and ran her fingers down his cheek “Such an innocent face. But I suppose like most males when they get to a certain age they feel they are beyond the exemplary feminine modesty and restraint that guided them into adulthood.”

“Exactly, Cecily.” Aunt Emily exclaimed “Claude was such a good boy before he was sent away to boarding school and on returning from his first year his mother and my sisters could see that the damage had been done.”

Breaking off from her less than flattering account of him she added curtly,

“Claude, have you forgotten your manners?”

His aunts had insisted on him complimenting their friends on their gowns, they felt it showed graciousness that ladies appreciated and would ensure a lady’s first impression of him was a good one.  Naturally any young man worth his salt in masculinity would abhor such pandering but he had to admit girls and women did like it and of course doing so would increase his cachet with his aunt. He also hoped that once this was over they could continue on their way. His eyes automatically inspected Mrs Domhurst’s dress and from the deep recesses of his brain his training at the hands of his aunts sprang forward as he subconsciously took in the detail. This tall and amply proportioned matron wore a two piece striped silk taffeta stayed polonaise-style bodice with a bunted bustle, the skirt had a back opening and matching lavender trim with a two tier ruffled hem. He felt the style was a tad too young for her but politeness would not allow such a crass comment.

“So pleased to meet you. What a lovely dress.” he somehow managed to say with a smile and noticing his aunt’s approving look decided to gild the lily “The polonaise bodice is very fashionable I believe.”

 “Why thank you my dear,” Mrs Domhurst returned  his smile “Not every young man would be so attentive. I dare say you were lucky to have been raised under the doting eyes of your aunt and her sisters. It  is so pleasant, despite your aunt’s misgivings, to encounter such a thoughtful and well adjusted male.”

Claude, for some reason he could not immediately explain, felt something inside that told him the discussion would quickly take a turn for the worse.

“I suppose you had him in skirts in his younger days, Emily?” Mrs Domhurst enquired.

Claude flinched at the words and could feel a knot tighten in his stomach, he quickly looked around to see if anyone was within earshot which much to his relief there was not.

“Naturally.” his aunt replied as she smiled benevolently at him at the memories of times past as she continued in a wistful voice “and a better behaved, mannerly boy you would not ask to meet.”

The knot continued to tighten in Claude’s stomach and he withdrew as far as he could in a vain attempt to make himself blend in with the surrounding shrubbery.

“I find immersion in exclusively feminine company has a wonderfully beneficial effect on the developing male brain.” Mrs Domhurst declared to the nodding agreement of his aunt.

“My sentiments exactly.” Aunt Emily concurred “Left to their own devices the male invariably evolves into a ghastly creature bent on acquiring all of life’s vices and none of its virtues. It is our responsibility to save them from themselves, to reinstate a moderating feminine influence over their dreadful impulses.”

As the women warmed to their theme, Claude did consider briefly slipping away but quickly dismissed the idea as against his financial best interests, heaven knew what his aunt would do if he followed this course. At this meeting of kindred spirits he knew better than to voice a contrarian view, he held his tongue yet again and remained a reluctant spectator.

“Claude, do stop slouching, stand straight for goodness sake.” his aunt barked the familiar order at him bringing him quickly back to reality.

“I notice young males, unlike girls of a similar age, have this dreadful tendency to slump their shoulders.  Most unbecoming in a young person of high social rank.” Mrs Domhurst said in a disappointed tone, her eyes falling on Claude who immediately adjusted his bearing and continuing to hold him in her gaze, she continued, “As we ladies know only too well a good corset would undoubtedly correct the boy’s  posture. In my experience this will also ensure a very significant tempering of the male tendency of disobedience to female relatives in a position of authority.”

“It really is for their own good.” his aunt opined as she brushed his sleeve to remove a strand of hair before  adjusting his necktie as if he was a schoolboy “They are like children that never grew up properly, they constantly require feminine guidance if they are not to stray from the straight and narrow. Girls are far easier to handle, don’t you think Cecily?”

“Oh of course, Emily.” Mrs Domhurst agreed “As we also know it is difficult to indulge in mischief or unsavoury behaviour while strictly corseted, dressed in layers of petticoats and a pretty gown. Not to mention three or four inch heeled boots.”

Claude had heard similar discussions on many occasions when his mother, aunts and their friends congregated for afternoon tea and he was forced to endure their nostalgic reminiscences which invariably, and to his great embarrassment, involved memories of his own childhood at the hands of these very women. It was a time he tried his best to forget although at these ghastly events it was a very difficult task and he would have nightmares for days afterwards.  Mrs Domhurst seemed determined to pursue this particular theme and  added in a plaintive tone,

“Such a pity they cannot be put back into skirts, their attitude would improve immensely and they would be all  the better for it. I’d wager he was perfectly behaved when under female authority and in skirts.”

Claude winced as if he had been stabbed by a hot blade and once more glanced around to ensure there was no one in the immediate vicinity to hear these dreadful revelations.

“Of course he was, and looked perfectly adorable in his dresses.”Aunt Emily nodded her agreement.”It broke our hearts when he was sent away to school. I still have kept those dresses as mementos.”

Thankfully and much to his great relief the topic moved to other matters and Claude was able to breathe easily once more. It was not long before Aunt Emily heard the park’s clock chime the hour and brought the conversation to an end  but not before the usual invitation to tea and the ghastly exchange of kisses which he was once more forced to participate in. As she embraced him, her heavy, voluminous skirts seemed to envelop him and her heady yet not unpleasant perfume wound its way through his nostrils into his brain. He felt almost helpless as her arms held him so close to her breasts he could feel the ridges of her corset press into him.

“Oh I’d imagine he looked quite delightful in a satin pink gown.” Mrs Domhurst said with a smile that unsettled the young man as she slowing and reluctantly released him from her grip “As I said such a pity he…”

“Is that the time Aunt Emily?” he exclaimed looking in the clock’s direction and putting as much distance from the dreadful woman as he could without causing obvious offence but Mrs Domhurst continued to maintain her pleasant yet worrying smile.

“You could always leave him with me Emily.” Mrs Domhurst addressed his aunt but never taking her eyes from the young man. “Despite your assessment, I find him enchanting not to mention very pretty. I’m sure we would get along wonderfully.”

“Well Claude would you like that?” Aunt Emily asked her nephew who despite his best efforts to conceal it was obviously deeply unnerved at the suggestion, gripping the hem of his jacket to steady his shaking hands he retreated behind his aunt like a frightened five year old.

A wordless low whine left his mouth and both women smiled.

“Perhaps not yet.” Mrs Domhurst, joined by his aunt, laughed lightly at his obvious plight but reaching out and stroking his cheek added softly “But soon, dear boy, soon.”

As she left Claude struggled to regain his equilibrium and it was only after they both were in the carriage and had resumed their journey he began to relax.

“Such a dear friend.” Aunt Emily said as the carriage made its way through the tree laden avenue leading from the park “You obviously made a wonderful impression, Cecily is utterly taken with you.”

Claude could only smile weakly and mumble something bland.

“We must have her to afternoon tea very soon.” she continued.

“That would be nice. “ he felt pressurised to lie his agreement as to do otherwise would no doubt draw his aunt’s ire.

Thankfully the conversation turned to other matters as the carriage wound its way to the outer fringes of the city and eventually slowing as it reached the high gates of what appeared to be a walled estate. As the carriage passed through Claude tried to make out the name of the property but could only discern two words.

“Is this our destination Aunt Emily?” he asked as the horses made their way up through the expansive grounds.

“Yes, my boy it is.” she replied.

“St Jude’s?” he said, repeating the name on the gates and noticing a brace of Dobermans watching the carriage’s progress he added almost absentmindedly “An unusual name for a financial institution?”

“Yes darling, I suppose it is.” Aunt Emily answered.

A Momentary Lapse of Reason

 

I’ve been trying to post the illustration below at the top of the blog as I’ve been doing for years but now when I do it’s reducing he dimensions and I doubt if readers can read the text or indeed expand it.

 I have no idea why Google seem to do these things arbitrarily and without explanation.   I’m not even sure many readers like these captioned images  but on the off chance that some do here is a new one.

Carrie

Life's Little Dilemmas Chapter 4 plus Illustration

 

Hopefully you are still managing to survive physically -and equally importantly mentally- in these incredibly stressful and, depending on where you are, dangerous times. Let’s hope (we seem to be doing a lot of that) despite these new variants we’re seeing some light at the end of that bloody long and dark tunnel.

Below is the latest chapter of LLD, when I began writing it I’d imagined it as much shorter but as always things never work out as you want and it finally wound up slightly longer than the previous chapter-hence the delay.

The first chapter was posted almost a year ago which makes it an episode every quarter which is ridiculous so I’ll try to bring it to a conclusion in the next chapter which I hope will be a lot briefer than this one. Although in my defense your honor, I suppose what didn’t help was writing Nurturing Talent in between chapters- as I’ve said previously I have the attention span of a fruit fly.

There may be a few inconstancies but hopefully they won’t detract too much from the overall story. Readers may remember where we left our hero but to summarize in a few lines,

Ms Goodbody’s very good friend, Eleanor Forsythe, arrives unannounced and meets William dressed reasonably convincingly  as a maid, she understands our hero’s panic as the maid experiencing a period and hands him a sanitary pad. There’s confusion as to his name and both women settle on Nancy as a more suitable name for a servant girl, he is told to leave, insert the pad and he will be called on when needed.

Maybe I should have written that as the story. 

I haven't had time to create a new illustration for the top of the blog so I'll do it in the next week or so. 

Thanks, as always for your kind and supportive comments and also your patience for the lag between postings, I’m blessed with very understanding readers.

Take care

 

Carrie

 

Life’s Little Dilemmas

By

 

CarrieP

 

Chapter 4

 

 

S

tanding perfectly still, unable to move a muscle, it took several minutes before the quiet ticking sound of the large clock on the kitchen wall eventually grew loud enough to penetrate the young man’s brain and as it did so second by second he slowly became aware of his surroundings. With this sluggish return to reality came an equally gradual realisation of air circulating around his legs, registering a most unusual sensation. Something else about his legs felt strange, a feeling of being enveloped in something taut yet soft. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling yet it was somewhat perplexing and alien.  More sensations now began to reach his brain and he became aware of a constriction around his waist followed quickly by what he now realised was elastic gently pinching into his flesh at the shoulders and across his back. The clock’s ticking became louder as the synapses in his brain were now close to being fully operational, he felt himself emerging  albeit slowly and tentatively into full consciousness. He tried desperately to suspend the process but it was impossible and he feared that if he cast his eyes downwards he would be confronted with the visual confirmation of what his brain was attempting to convey.

Yet he still struggled to maintain some form of resistance and although his eyes remained firmly closed the brain would not be thwarted.  His hands were the first to admit defeat as their digits felt the heavy, yet soft material that hung loosely around his lower body and moving over the fabric they found another separate item of cloth. Of course by now he knew denying reality was a fool’s errand and he quietly surrendered, his eyes slowly opened and confirmed what his sense of touch had suggested.

Although not unexpected he nevertheless winced as it immediately became apparent he was dressed entirely in female clothing, but even worse, this was no ordinary feminine attire.

He was dressed in the uniform of a housemaid.

The fog inside his head had now lifted and as it did the events that had led to his new and most inappropriate attire were revealed. Adding insult to injury the relentless constriction around his torso and the unforgiving pinching of the garment supporting his small but distinct breasts appeared to take great delight in reminding him of their presence and purpose. However before he had time to indulge in self-pity or even recrimination for his lack of judgement another sound drowned out the ticking of the clock and immediately caught his attention.

A harsh ringing tone rang out in the still quiet of the kitchen, propelling him further into his new reality. It was a noise he had heard once before and added another layer to the coating of shame which he now felt was enveloping him by the second.

The sharp and disagreeable sound now filled the air, sending a frisson of alarm through his body however he remained rooted to the spot as his eyes were drawn to the small device mounted on the wall.

“The maid’s bell.” he uttered disconsolately as his hands grasped the starched apron that clung to his dress.

Your bell. a voice whispered inside his head, he closed his eyes trying to block out its very existence.

A second or two passed and the sound slowly dissipated however almost afraid to open his eyes he continued to clutch his apron hoping that perhaps he had imagined this unfamiliar and shame inducing noise. To his dismay but not surprise it was quickly followed by a second tinny jangle.

We had better hurry the voice said urgently as if chiming with the ringing tone, then quickly adding “The mistress won’t be pleased if we’re slow to appear.”

“The mistress.” he repeated sotto voce, feeling almost overwhelmed by the word as it clearly and unambiguously declared his relationship to his new employer.

Your mistress. the voice stated firmly but calmly before  silently asking the rhetorical question “Which makes you?”

 His eyes opened and caught his reflection in the window, although slightly distorted and blurred there was no doubting his face under a maid’s frilled cap and below that a vaguely feminine frame  attired in the uniform of a housemaid.

Say it. the voice prompted, much better that you accept your position sooner than later.

There could only be one answer.

“Her maid.”

You really don’t want the mistress or Miss Forsythe to ring a third time, do you?

 The mention of Miss Forsythe immediately alarmed him, her handsome yet austere face and statuesque figure loomed large in his mind’s eye. Such a vision had the desired effect and he immediately became reacquainted with his new role in the household.

Much as he disliked admitting it he had to concede the voice he had just heard was correct, for better or worse and in a fit of desperation he had accepted the position of Miss Goodbody’s housemaid. Dressed like this he could not abscond and even if he could, flee to where? He was trapped and if he did not answer the maid’s bell surely both women would soon investigate. At their first encounter Miss Forsythe had not uncovered his shameful secret yet even so he could not bring himself to even consider contemplating that perhaps he did indeed resemble a female.

Of course Miss Forsythe is probably short sighted. he quickly reasoned And only saw a uniform…

Maybe…the voice within answered, without much conviction Or maybe we’re not….  

“Don’t…!” William blurted out loud and suddenly became aware of the bell and the two women in the drawing room. His non appearance would surely arouse their suspicion.

 Without further thought or delay he found himself hastily leaving the kitchen and hurrying across the polished marbled tiled vestibule, the clicking of his heels ringing in his ears and the gentle fluttering of his dress’s or more precisely his uniform’s skirt around this knees. Flustered as he undoubtedly was he nevertheless managed to recognise that in this urgency he cut a most undignified figure as he progressed towards the drawing room door. Women he knew never moved in such a bumbling manner.

Calm…deep breathes…  the instruction whispered, following the direction  his heart slowly stopped racing, Now how did Madam teach us how to walk.

“Short steps, slightly swaying hips.” he murmured, his deportment lesson still fresh in his mind.

Excellent. Continue with the deep breathes…yes that’s good and slowly exhale. the reassuring tone managed to sustain his newly acquired calmness and although still anxious was nevertheless becoming less overwrought as the voice continued, You still have a few seconds to spare, time enough to check your appearance before entering.

Looking in the mirror he could see that his appearance although superficially acceptable somehow did not seem quite right. It was vital that he had to appear as flawless as possible if he was to deceive Miss Forsythe into believing he was indeed a housemaid, the anxiety he felt was now overtaken this imperative. Somewhere in his head he heard a quiet voice say,

Yes, we really should be more presentable.

As a male he always tried to look his best even in the straightened circumstances he suddenly found himself in when he lost his position at the university, he still managed to affect respectability even though his clothes had seen better days. Now, and despite the humiliating arrangement he was forced enter into this admirable habit remained close to the surface and he took stock of the figure in the mirror. His eye, although untrained in these matters, was drawn to his apron which he considered slightly yet still noticeably disarranged, he immediately straightened it ensuring the straps over his shoulders were aligned properly. Turning around he checked if the bow Miss Goodbody had tied was still in place and secure. He sighed at the perceived imperfections in his appearance and fidgeted at his fringe, or at least the wig’s fringe until he was satisfied it was in some way satisfactory. His attention then turned to his cap which he felt was perhaps a little off to the right however he quickly became frustrated as he remembered Miss Goodbody had fixed it firmly in place with several hairpins. He sighed once more and considered removing the pins but quickly decided he did not have the expertise or time to rearrange it.

 “Maybe I’m just been too fussy.” he whispered, now quite captivated by the mirror’s reflection and barely aware that the clothes he wore were those of a female – and a housemaid at that.

No, you’re right. He heard the reply inside his head. The last thing we need is Miss Forsythe to suspect anything. We were lucky the last time. Have you checked the seams of our stockings are straight?

“I suppose you’re right.” he said quietly and turning to inspect his hosiery.

One last glance and he was finally satisfied he presented a reasonable facsimile of a housemaid. However as he began to move towards the drawing room door he suddenly became aware of an unfamiliar bulkiness between his legs. He had been so overwhelmed by his circumstances, so spellbound by the mirror’s reflection that he had almost forgotten that Miss Forsythe had misunderstood his anxiety for the symptoms of a girl experiencing her menses and had insisted he wear the feminine hygiene product she had given him. To his utter shame he now wore this pad between his legs just like the girl he now appeared to be.

No need to feel like that.  The soft voice returned once more. Quite the opposite she believes you to be female, a girl, a little gauche but a girl nonetheless. You should be proud. A few more days and you will be so proficient you will wonder why you were worried at all.  Do  you remember that time when…

“Ah…I… “ he interrupted the voice abruptly and giving one last look in the mirror said in a quietly determined voice” I really need to go in now.”

His gentle knock was answered by the now familiar and clear voice of Miss Goodbody

+++++++++++++++++++

“One moment.” I said barely hearing the timid tapping on the door, Eleanor removed her hand from under my skirt with her usual sly grin and I spent a few moments arranging my skirt and blouse before checking my make-up to ensure it hadn’t been completely ruined.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Felicia.” Eleanor laughed “It’s only your housemaid, not the queen.”

“Appearances, Eleanor, appearances.” I answered, a little peeved at her nonchalance although I did notice her adjusting her blouse and check her hair in the mirror. “You of all people should know a mistress must always present the perfect image to her maid. After all, how can one expect her girl to achieve and maintain the highest standards if her mistress’s appearance is even slightly dishevelled?”

“Her girl!” Felicia sniggered, pursing her lips as she applied the finishing touches to her lipstick.

“Eleanor…please, the girl must be quite traumatised already.” I said in my most serious voice although I knew I was wasting my time “Now please try to be gentle.”

She sidled up to me and smiled, gently brushing my cheek before her hand dropped to my breast.

“Oh I’m always gentle darling, you should know that.”

“You’re incorrigible.” I feigned annoyance and kissed her on the lips before turning my attention to the door.

“Enter”

The primly uniformed figure slipped into the room and I must say to my surprise walked in a reasonably feminine gait across the room, a slight, almost imperceptible sway to the hips and I could see the concentration in the face as one foot was placed in front of the other.  Not perfect by any means and a little mechanical but considerably better than some of my previous housemaids, one or two of which walked like ploughboys or dockers. It took me months to train them properly so I was more than pleased to see that my short tutorial had borne some fruit. Although the thought did strike me that perhaps part of the reason for his new feminine bearing may have been the thick pad between his legs. As we all know such an item, necessary as it is at that time of the month, can be a tad cumbersome for any woman. Just another one of the vaguely irritating things that as women we have to contend with but such things have become a natural part of our lives. However I would imagine for a male to have a wide and substantial wad of cotton between his legs and knowing it to be a feminine hygiene product would have both a mental and physical impact.

Whatever the reason, his walk was now less masculine, his presence seemingly diluted of maleness than when he had previously appeared in front of us. From the corner of my eye I noticed the practically undetectable upturn of Eleanor’s mouth into a discreet smile; I suspect this subtle change was not lost on her either.

“You rang, Madam.” he said his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Ahem…” I coughed pointedly, he raised his eyes and as I met his I tilted my head knowingly.

“Oh…yes…I’m sorry Madam.” he apologised in a manner that was surprisingly genuine and managed a reasonable attempt at a curtsy.

Although I suppose I shouldn’t complain, it’s hard enough to get girls to wear a proper uniform these days never mind convincing them of the requirement to curtsy when they are spoken to. It can be so tiresome training a girl to become a competent housemaid but it does have its rewards. Standards have fallen in recent years and a well trained servant girl is not as commonplace as one would expect so it can be most gratifying when a guest or relative comments favourably on a well trained servant girl. It reflects well on the mistress of a house. However the very idea of transforming a male into a female servant girl, a member of the supposedly stronger, dominant sex reduced to a lowly uniformed housemaid was quite audacious and although I would never show it – is incredibly thrilling. Having complete authority over a male, having control over every aspect of his life, subjugating him to my will, my every whim, was a long held desire ever since I heard my dear mother speak of her alma mater, St Jude’s where such extraordinary transformations took place. It doesn’t take much encouragement to get her and her friends to reminisce on their schooldays and I now understand the wistful, or perhaps it was lustful, looks on their faces as they remember those days fondly. I confess the anticipation of feminising a male does make me quite moist.

And here he was properly capped and aproned in the morning uniform of my previous housemaid, Sarah. Perhaps it was a tad tight around the shoulders and a little loose in the hips but not so ill fitting as to draw undue or overly critical attention to the wearer. When he is a little more used to his role and has assimilated more feminine traits I will have him fitted for several uniforms and depending on how proficient he is may even have him measured for appropriate foundation garments.   His misfortune in developing a small yet noticeable female bosom resulting from an adverse reaction to experimental medication he took as part of a drug trial, has and indeed, will continue to make my task so much easier.

It was clear from the manner in which his hands gripped his apron and the slight tremor in his voice that he was extremely anxious, due undoubtedly to Eleanor’s presence and her little gift to him. I was inordinately curious and not a little excited to know had he followed her instruction and inserted the sanitary pad into his girdle. The very idea of a male having such a uniquely feminine item between his legs was almost too much to bear and it took all my willpower to prevent my hand from touching myself.  A surreptitious glance at Eleanor confirmed she was having similar thoughts.

“An understandable slip… Nancy.” I said acknowledging his apology and noticed a visible wince at the mention of his new feminine name and felt a gentle admonishment would help him understand he was now a servant and standards had to be maintained. I smiled benignly as I delivered the mild reprimand, “But please be more mindful in future.”

“Yes Madam.” he answered timidly and accompanied by another curtsy, his shame etched on his clearly self-conscious face.

“Oh don’t be too hard on the girl.” Eleanor said as she smiled sympathetically at my new maid. “After all darling, the girl is new to domestic service but I’m sure she will be a quick learner. Isn’t that right my dear?”

So typical of Eleanor. I thought, observing the scene unfolding in front of me. Girls, and it’s almost invariably a girl with Eleanor, is like a flighty horse, gain her trust and confidence with a carrot before throwing on the saddle. The girl usually falls for the sympathetic smile, the warm and comforting words and those hypnotic grey eyes, before she knows it the girl is completely under her control. And William or should I say Nancy was no different.

“Oh yes Miss.” he answered eagerly and visibly relieved at Eleanor’s seemingly compassionate attitude and automatically curtsied “Thank you Miss.” 

“Some girls are born for domestic service.” Eleanor continued, furtively glancing at me  those hypnotic eyes now turning mischievous, silently  informing me of her intent. She smiled benignly once more as she added, “Others must be trained.”

She left the sentence hanging in the air and looked directly into the young man’s eyes, not saying another word.

I could see his mind racing and it was not hard to imagine what was going on in that confused little male brain of his. Naturally to a social inferior, which his uniform affirmed he indeed was not to mention a male masquerading as a girl, a friendly smile was most welcome and any remark no matter how peculiar that came from such a considerate lady should be acknowledged positively. I was not disappointed.

“Yes Miss.” he replied with another curtsy.

“Yes I can see she has come to service quite late.” Eleanor addressed me but not taking her eyes from him “That’s not a criticism…ah…emm.. Oh how dreadful…I seem to have forgotten your name, my dear.”

I could see the shame building up inside him and the nascent flicker of a deep mortification appeared in his cheeks. He looked at me, I smiled understandingly in an attempt to encourage him but it was also most important for him to know and realise his place as my maid. His acceptance of his new name was an intrinsic part of his role as a servant girl and to ensure he was in no doubt as to my uncompromising attitude I nodded my head solemnly and raised my eyebrows a full quarter of an inch.

I suppose for a male suddenly being forced to discard your very masculine name and acknowledge its replacement by a particularly feminine one must be extremely crushing to the male ego and sense of self.  However surely even he understood how ridiculous a maid called William would sound. It was yet another little dilemma for him but one he would have to resolve within himself.

Thankfully the boy had enough sense and recognised what was required and I smiled as I saw him try, and fail, to suppress his deepening humiliation. Of course if Eleanor was aware of this indignity she didn’t show it.

“Nancy…Miss.” he eventually managed to say in a voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it, his cheeks  were now flushed with the soft pink glow of his growing humiliation.

“Please speak up girl.” Eleanor said brusquely which startled him somewhat.

“Nancy, Miss.” he quickly complied, louder this time but his discomfiture clearly on display as he once more clutched his apron tightly.

“Ah yes… yes, of course…Nancy.” Eleanor pondered this for a moment and turned to me  “Yes I remember now, you said the poor girl’s name was Wilhelmina or Wilma or something. Nancy is a far more suitable name for a housemaid.”

Her attention soon returned to the young man, asking in a rather blunt manner.

“Don’t you think so…Nancy?”

“Emm…ah... yes, Miss.” William replied his eyes darting to me for guidance.

I could see a slight tremble in his lower lip, clearly unsettled by this change in her mood. She can be a little terse at times and I could not rebuke her I front of a servant however the last thing I wanted, when I was so close to achieving my ambition, was an attempted escape by my new male housemaid.

 It was quite obvious a little support was required for the increasingly and by now visibly perturbed young man.

“A life in domestic service may not have been something…” I began and smiled warmly at him “Nancy thought of as his…I mean her natural rank in life but in the few hours she has been in this house she has shown a remarkable aptitude for the position of housemaid and indeed has grown into the role. It can be difficult for girls to come to terms with their new life. And as you quite rightly said, Eleanor we should not be too hard on her.”

“Oh I hope I didn’t give that impression darling.” Eleanor gushed, a gentle smile returning and her demeanour becoming affable once more. She turned her gaze to the feminised young man continuing in a pleasant tone “I’m sure Nancy will make a splendid servant girl…once she is trained properly that is. Isn’t that so my dear?”

If the young man read anything into this remark he did not show it, it was glaringly obvious that he was far too relieved by her friendly smile and her return to a more congenial mood to concentrate on any words she had said.   His intense anxiety seemed to have abated and although still appearing a little nervous his hands fell loosely by side and under the warm beam of her pleasant face she drew him into her almost mesmerizing orbit. Eleanor has the most remarkable ability whenever the mood takes her to engender a sense of trust of anyone with whom she chooses to engage.  I once saw her transform the famously antagonistic and ice cold, Countess Rathgar into an adoring admirer in a matter of minutes and within the hour had bedded her. On another occasion she persuaded the Baroness of Hanau-Dillenberg  to act as her maid  as a jape at country house where she had been invited to spend a weekend. Of course being German,  the Baroness would not have been known to her hostess or guests and  was so desperate to sleep with Eleanor she readily agreed. The girl willingly spent the next six weeks as her housemaid before her mother arrived for a short visit which naturally ended the young Countess’s brief spell as a domestic servant and reluctantly she had to return home. I strongly suspect Eleanor had slept with the mother before they left. Unsurprisingly her talent extends to the animal kingdom, I’ve witnessed her subdue two ferocious Dobermanns with those magnificent grey eyes and expressive face of hers.

So, calming an excitable young housemaid would cause her little trouble. 

“How are you feeling now my dear?” she said, exuding empathy and beckoned him to advance.

“Ah…emm…I…”he began, moving closer yet unsure how to respond but with her eyes locked  firmly onto his and in thrall to her pleasant smile he managed to add, a little hesitantly “ I am much better Miss, thank  you, Miss.”

“So good to hear Nancy.” Eleanor responded, maintaining her smile as her eyes drew him closer still.

Knowing Eleanor as I do his reaction did not surprise me, however even I was taken by surprise at the deftness with which her left hand raised the skirt of his uniform and her right was suddenly between his legs.

His head turned to me, eyes wide in panic, his pale pink lipsticked lips opening simultaneously but unable to speak. As her hand lingered another whimpering sound emanated from his mouth but this time noticeably higher in pitch.

“Yes…my dear.” she said, her fingers examining the gusset of his girdle, intermittently pressing gently on the slight bulge which thankfully, from where I observed her examination, appeared to be the substantial pad. “You have positioned it correctly but it is rather bulky. I’m sure you find it a little uncomfortable when you walk?”

Still holding the uniform’s skirt exposing him in a most humiliating manner, she smiled at him for confirmation.

The poor unfortunate was still trying to process what was happening and unable to speak could only nod his agreement.

“Yes I thought you might.” Eleanor said and casually let the skirt fall from her hand.

“Have you quite finished?” I finally intervened with the rhetorical question.

“Of course darling.” she laughed lightly, unfazed by my mild sarcasm “I was only ensuring Nancy here  was comfortable with her new pad. Now a sherry, perhaps?”

My new maid stood motionless, still recovering from his latest ordeal at Eleanor’s hands.

“Nancy!” My tone a little louder than I would have preferred but necessary in order to rouse him from his trance like state. His face suddenly registered my voice and he looked at me blankly as if emerging from a dream.

“Fetch the sherry, like a good girl.” I said gesturing towards the decanter and glasses on a tray resting on the carved mahogany sideboard.

“Ah…umm….yes…sherry…yes…of course…”he stammered, reality beginning to creep into his pretty face as he slowly returned to something resembling full consciousness. Just as he was about to turn I coughed lightly, immediately catching his attention and I raised my eyebrows slightly.

“Oh…Yes Madam.” he corrected himself and curtsied, I caught Eleanor’s eye as he made his way across the room.

“As I said she does need training Felicia.” Eleanor drawled as her eyes followed his stilted but quite acceptable feminine gait as he moved towards his destination. She returned her attention to me and smirked as she patted the sofa “Yes I suppose the pad is slightly uncomfortable.”

As he returned I took up my position at the opposite end from Eleanor as we watched him lower the tray onto the table in front of us. Unsure of what to do next he looked first at me and then Eleanor for instruction.

“Please sit, Nancy.” I said motioning to the space between us. He looked blankly at me.

“Eh…sit…Miss?” he asked unsure he heard properly which I suppose was understandable. After all it would be most unusual for a mistress, while entertaining a guest, to invite her maid to sit next to her.

“Yes, sit you silly goose.” Eleanor repeated my instruction and patted the space between us and laughing lightly added “We won’t bite you.”

“But…it’s …I’m not sure…”he babbled and I could see the thought of sitting next to Eleanor was making him anxious once again and it would only be moments until he fled.

It is at times like these a mistress needs to show her authority, a new maid requires a firm hand if she is to attain the appropriate standard. Naturally Eleanor was right he does need to be trained properly.

“Sit…girl!” I ordered brusquely leaving him in no doubt as to my impatience, visibly confused he immediately obeyed albeit in a most unfeminine fashion. He sat, his skirt askew with the lace hem of his, well more correctly my, slip showing. Furthermore, his knees were far too much apart and in a manner no girl of any social standing, even a domestic servant would adopt.

 I pondered to myself.

 He has wonderful potential of course, with proper instruction, a little patience and sufficient time I think he could be moulded into anything I wish him to be.

As I began to weigh the serious issue of his future I was distracted by Eleanor’s obvious interest, or more accurately her fascination with my new housemaid although I doubt if the feeling was mutual as the young man was clearly quite unnerved by her. Only to be expected I suppose as he hardly anticipated an instruction to wear a sanitary pad and then inspected to ensure he was indeed wearing it. Having passed that particular test, and miraculously remained standing, I’d imagine he assumed to have been allowed depart but as always Eleanor had other ideas. Perhaps an intervention would have been the right thing to do but my curiosity with Eleanor’s approach intrigued me and I held my tongue. Indeed, I had to stifle a laugh as Eleanor with her index finger, moved his legs together to achieve a more feminine aspect to his graceless posture. Naturally I was delighted to observe him notice his faux pas with obvious embarrassment and tug the uniform’s skirt over the inch of lace peeking out from underneath. By now his anxiety was evident but Eleanor had already perceived this and although she said nothing she fixed those spellbinding eyes on his and smiled reassuringly holding his hands in hers as she effortlessly transferred a measure of comfort to him. Remarkably I could see a calmness visibly descend on him. She continued to hold his hands and ensured he kept eye contact until she was quite satisfied that he had settled sufficiently. Leaving go of his hands she patted him on the cheek much in the way one would reward a favourite lap dog for behaving properly in front of guests. I recall her using a similar technique at the last hunt of the season on one of my more feisty geldings, no one wished to ride it but after performing whatever it is she does the animal was eating out of her hand and responded to her every request throughout the chase, jumping like a gazelle over every hedgerow and ditch. Of course my new servant ‘girl’ is not gelded but considering the rigid, figure forming foundation garment he is wearing not to mention the addition  of his new feminine hygiene product- he might as well be.  His small bosom which had been rising and falling quite rapidly from the consternation he was undoubtedly experiencing had now calmed considerably.

Eleanor’s gift is rare indeed.

Although still nervous, the look of panic had slowly deserted his face and he seemed to respond to Eleanor’s ministrations, his hands relaxed in his aproned lap and the hunted look seemed to have left his eyes.

“As I said I won’t bite you my dear.” she said softly continuing to soothe him as she gently swept his hair, or should I say his wig’s hair behind his ear.”Yes Nancy, you are a pretty thing.”

 He blushed sweetly and cast his eyes downward, self consciously keeping his knees clamped firmly together.

“Yes, she certainly is.” I agreed and following Eleanor’s example patted his lap reassuringly.

“Your mistress has performed a remarkable feat Nancy.” Eleanor said her eyes briefly meeting mine before locking onto his, her free hand caressing his cheek. “Quite remarkable.”

A quizzical, vaguely concerned look came over him once more and I thought I detected an upturn in the rate of his breathing but Eleanor’s eyes and smile seemed for the moment at least to retain a degree of control.

“I thought you an ungainly, slightly gauche girl.” she said quietly and I noticed her grip on his hand tighten somewhat “It is only now that when I look very hard  I can see the masculinity under the make-up and hair.”

A low whine suddenly filled the air, his attempt to rise from the sofa was easily dealt with as Eleanor and I held on to his wrists. She was first to speak and whispered softly,

“Hush now my dear, you have nothing to fret about.”

Another whimper escaped from the now increasingly flustered young man, he tried once more to rise but again we held firm. Perhaps it was the calming effect of Eleanor gently stroking his face or maybe it was my reassuring hand on his thigh, whatever it was somewhere inside he began to understand this turn of events. Lodged firmly between two formidable women larger and probably stronger than he, there could be no escape.

“Unfortunately Miss Forsythe discovered your coat.” I explained in a soft, almost apologetic tone and in tandem my grip on his wrist relaxing just enough to show my good will, I continued in a quiet voice. “Together with some dreadful slips of the tongue particularly referring to you as William and with your slightly unfeminine gait  Miss Forsythe’s suspicions were aroused and…well…here we are…”

Looking from me to Eleanor, who nodded her head sympathetically; it was obvious to him that she was now aware of his shameful secret. He attempted to utter something but the poor dear appeared to be still in shock and remained speechless.

 Eleanor, immediately recognising the effect on him, responded in a comforting tone.

“No need to worry, dear boy.” she said in an uncharacteristically but genuine comforting tone and I could see her grip had also loosened somewhat. “Your mistress is quite correct, a male coat ignited my curiosity and it was only then I joined the dots so to speak. As I said apart from one or two somewhat odd aspects of your overall demeanour you managed to present yourself as a reasonably convincing female. Why, even when I examined the positioning of your sanitary pad I was completely fooled, no discernible evidence of masculinity whatsoever.”

At the mention of this, as I still held his hand, I felt what little strength he had ebb away and although still managing to remain sitting  upright his body seemed to go quite limp. A quick glance from Eleanor confirmed he had detected this also.

“And your bosom although not exactly what one would describe as buxom,” she continued supportively as she cupped his left breast in her hand “are more developed than either of my nieces.”

Yet another muffled moan escaped from the young man.

“And I do hope you won’t mind me saying so Eleanor,” I said brightly as I casually straightened his apron and removed a stray hair from his shoulder “but he is far prettier than either of the girls.”

“Of course you are correct darling.” Eleanor concurred , squeezing his hand reassuringly and flashed another encouraging smile at him “One cannot deny the evidence of one’s eyes darling. Nancy is far more attractive and even though unschooled and a little deficient in the finer points of feminine deportment is undeniably more feminine than either of them.”

“I think a restorative is in order.” I said and pouring a small sherry, handed the glass to the bewildered young man.

Such was his inertia I had to hold the glass to his lips and tip it slowly and carefully into his mouth, it took several seconds before I could see a flicker of light returning to his eyes. A second sip saw his body regain some semblance of life.

He looked first to me and then to Eleanor.

“I… I must …I have to…”he began clearly still a little disconcerted as if waking from a dream.

“Leave?” I suggested and moved closer to him.

Clearly still unsettled by Eleanor’s revelation he nodded his head in agreement.

“Oh don’t be so silly, there is no need for that.” Eleanor assured him and she too inched nearer the nervous youth, her knee now touching his.

“But… I…I’m male… I could not…it’s…”he stumbled desperately trying to gather his thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“Yes, a male with breasts.” Eleanor said not in an unkind way as an exquisitely polished fingernail traced a line across his protruding glands, her voice remained soft yet there was a distinct edge to it “And please do not be offended but from what I’ve felt or more precisely what I have not felt between your legs, a male in name only. A most unusual if unfortunate set of physical characteristics for the stronger sex don’t you think?”

“It’s not my …it was the…”

“Yes, yes…” I comforted him seeing he was close to tears “We know it’s not your fault but surely you must realise you bear little resemblance to what one would describe as a ‘real man’.”

“Whatever that is?” Eleanor guffawed however after receiving an admonishing look from me immediately returned to the task at hand, reassuring my new housemaid  of his suitability for the role.

“And you have such a pleasant face.”Eleanor quickly added “Not like those ghastly beasts one sees striding moronically around town. No, you have the fine and delicate feature of our sex. It is no wonder I did not immediately recognise your correct sex. ”

Her encouraging smile seemed to calm him a little.

 “As I have already said,” she continued in a voice that was both soothing and supportive “Only for the coat and the other inadvertent clues I would never have guessed you were male. Of course you are a little awkward and somewhat ungraceful in your gait but nothing I have not seen in my own sex, indeed in my own family. After a few weeks training that dreadful lumbering male stride will disappear and your movement will take on a more feminine aspect.”

Although he still seemed a little tentative nonetheless his anxiety had clearly and greatly diminished and like a nervous animal meeting a new master or mistress he appeared to becoming used to Eleanor’s presence.

One can only encourage a child, for that was how he was behaving, for so long before one is in danger of enabling a sense of self absorption, particularly in a male. The less time they have to wallow in self-pity the better. It was time to return to the natural order of things.

“Feel better now.” I said.

“Yes…yes…thank you.” he replied, a noticeable degree of relief in his voice.

I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows at his obvious oversight and to his credit he immediately understood.

“Yes, thank you Madam.” he corrected himself and I rewarded him with another smile.

“Even though Miss Forsythe is now aware of your male identity,” I said, patting him gently on the knee “You will continue to be called Nancy.”

Even though he did not show it in his face I could feel the sense of disappointment and humiliation behind those sad blue eyes. He could no longer take refuge in the one thing that still defined his masculinity. My eyes locked onto his, silently demanding an answer, the only answer acceptable. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“Yes Madam.” he replied quietly and I could feel his mortification seeping from every pore.

Having re-established the hierarchical relationship I casually smoothed my skirt and pointed to the table several feet away.

“Now, be a good girl Nancy and fetch me the pink folder.”

“Shoulders back hold your head up Nancy.” Eleanor instructed him as he made his way back to us.

“That is a list of your duties and how to fulfil them properly.” I said, gesturing to the folder as he reached us. “It tells you among other things how to arrange my wardrobe, the care of my clothes, exactly how you should act when guests are present, the correct uniform to wear on specified occasions and what foundation garments to be worn and much more besides. The list is extensive, study it carefully as infractions will be punished. I do hope you appreciate you are receiving an excellent salary and extremely comfortable and well appointed accommodation and naturally I expect you to adhere to my standards. I will not tolerate mediocrity, tardiness, slovenliness, laziness or any other form of laxness. You should also know I value obedience above all else. Do you understand Nancy?”

My tone, although perhaps not as affable as minutes earlier was certainly not officious after all I did not want to panic him into attempting an escape. With a little difficulty, as I was excited with the prospect of ensuring his complete subjugation, I managed to control the timbre of my voice and spoke in a matter of fact manner as if addressing a male in a housemaid’s uniform was an everyday occurrence for both of us. It had the desired effect. Observing him from our seated positions it was clear that wearing a maid’s uniform with the accompanying restricting female foundation wear had reduced the fading flame of his masculinity to mere embers. And I had no intention of allow a male phoenix to rise from the ashes. Whatever male confidence he’d once possessed would soon dwindle and pale into insignificance under the weight and constriction of his heavy corsetry and a housemaid’s uniform.

Now that he had almost recovered from his ordeal and the fog inside his head was lifting it was quite obvious from his face that his tiny male brain was working at a rate of knots weighing up the situation and the alternatives. I could imagine the conversation, perhaps if he was wearing trousers he would see things differently, perhaps if he was in a better financial situation, perhaps if the drug trial had not diminished his manliness, perhaps…Then his eyes seemed to glaze over momentarily.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… the voice inside said Does it make a difference? No. Do we have a choice? No What exactly is the alternative? None.

Answer the mistress.

For a moment his eyes winced before drifting towards the door and perhaps the thought of fleeing crossed his mind but it seemed to vanish as quickly as it occurred as if some internal dissent had been quashed

“Yes Madam.” The answer came in a soft voice, his face revealing the utter confusion that was taking place inside his head.

“Excellent.” Eleanor said unable to contain her exuberance and blatantly ignoring my disapproving look for infringing onto my domain she persisted “You will soon become used to domestic service, I have no doubt that in a matter of weeks and with the correct training life as a housemaid will be second nature to you.”

“Yes Miss.” He replied.

“And…”she continued with a smile as she took my hand in hers “as my own maid may not return for some time I’m sure your mistress will not mind me borrowing you for an afternoon or two.”

He looked at me, once more his face betrayed his discomfort.

“Mistress…”he repeated quietly, as if he had never heard the word before, and I now recognised the look on his face was more than discomfort it was also one of shame. It was as though he had only now finally realised his humiliation did not end at being dressed as a girl, he was now a maidservant, a female domestic and like all domestic servants had to adhere to the conventions between employer and employee. And of course the most important of these was to accept that the person who now held authority over them was to be referred to as ‘the mistress’. For a once proud male it was probably a humiliating prospect however I’m sure he will get used it after all he is curtsying as if he has been doing it all his life.

“Yes, your mistress.” Eleanor confirmed, ensuring he understood this was the correct term to be used when referring the head of the household. “Whom I’m sure will oblige me.”

“Well perhaps after she is trained properly.” I answered. “Isn’t that so Nancy?”

“Ah…I….”he hesitated, being referred to as ‘she’ also seemed to unsettle him but at least he had enough intelligence to understand this is now how he would be viewed and  finally accepted his new pronoun. “Yes Madam.”

For a moment I thought he was going to cry but the sharp ringing of the telephone cut through the air immediately diverting our attention and snapping him out of his self-pity.

“Now run along, Nancy and change into your afternoon uniform and be sure to study your duties.” I instructed casually as I moved to the telephone. “I’ll ring the bell when I need you.”

The order seemed to pull him back albeit a little unsettled into the present.

“Y…yes…yes. Madam.” he said and to my surprise even remembered to curtsy and as he turned to leave Eleanor called him to her.

“And don’t you worry, your secret is safe with me.” Eleanor said with a smile and opened her handbag “It’s been a trying time for you Nancy, You may need another one of these.”

She handed him a sanitary pad.

“No need to thank me.” she said and waved her hand dismissing him.

As he made his way to the door and still in earshot Eleanor turned to me,

“I think he will make a perfect housemaid.”