St Jude's - Opportunity Knocks - A new story (sort of) with illustration

 This horrible disease is screwing up practically every country in the world but hopefully you, your family and friends are surviving and managing to get through it as best you can.

I'd begun another chapter of LLD and although almost half way through it I wasn't sure if I would finish it before Christmas. So I thought I'd write a very short piece about how our friend Karl Maria Von somebody or other was getting along in St Jude's( hopefully you'll remember that particular establishment). However I wanted to make it as short as possible, to make every word and sentence count, the idea was to limit it to 1200-1500 words  max.

No prizes for guessing how that plan worked out although I did manage to avoid several rabbit holes and kept in under 5k words- so it's short enough. I'll try to complete the LLD chapter as soon as I can but like a lot of people right now my concentration levels are not the best.

My thanks as always to everyone who gave  encouragement  and supported the blog by ticking the 'more' box and especially to those kind enough to leave a comment - I greatly appreciate it and it does mean a lot.

I  hope  you all have a really good Christmas, stay safe, and with a bit of luck next year will be a much better one. Couldn't be any worse I suppose - says he tempting fate.

Hopefully you'll enjoy the piece below. 

Take care

Carrie

PS The illustration at the top is an old one  but one of my favourites but some readers may not have seen it before. 'll try to get a new one done before Christmas but can't promise it right now.

St Jude’s: Opportunity Knocks

By

CarrieP

 

 

F

or a young gentleman, six am was an unearthly hour to rise. It wasn’t so long ago that this was the very time of day he would stumble through the door of his mother’s home from a night’s carousing with his friends in music halls, taverns or other such nefarious places. Much to his mother’s dismay and disgust would rarely awake before three pm.

Those occasions now seemed like a lifetime away but were in fact merely weeks although how many he could not quite recall. But that was then. Now, despite being wide awake and the whole day ahead of him he knew he had no time to dwell on his past life. In fact he had no time to linger on anything, to do so would detract from his busy working life.

One would expect a young man of his class and education rising at such a time to be engaged one of the esteemed professions, banking or the law, perhaps the military, maybe even some academic pursuit. However it would be extremely doubtful that anyone would correctly guess the young man’s current occupation. Although if one was to see the clothes he had dressed himself in his employment status would immediately become abundantly clear if not entirely puzzling. For instead of an impeccably tailored suit the young man wore a drab brown dress under which were two coarse petticoats a tight corset and in place of a gentleman’s top hat he wore an equally dreary off-white mob cap- the colourless dismal uniform of a lowly scullery maid.

To most people this would be an extremely unusual, some would say bizarre situation that this young man, Karl-Maria von Uttendorf, now found himself in. But to ladies of a certain social standing whose sons were in danger of succumbing to a life of decadence and debauchery it was a vital corrective if their offspring was to return to the straight and narrow.

The young man’s mother, Magdalena, Countess von Uttenddorf recently became aware of St. Jude’s Finishing School for Young Ladies where occasionally the reprobate sons of the upper classes were sent to have their dreadful behaviour modified.  A programme of feminisation was the preferred method whereby the young man would be treated just as any other pupil for the duration of their stay. If the new student resisted or became belligerent then a stricter regimen was implemented and the unfortunate young man would find himself beginning his sentence as a junior housemaid. For those of an even more rebellious nature a stiffer penalty was imposed and the youth would be dispatched to the kitchens to serve as a scullery maid under the authority of St Jude’s cook, the formidable disciplinarian Mrs Coldstrap.

This is exactly where Karl-Maria von Uttendorf now found himself.

 And it was the very same Mrs Coldstrap that was foremost in Karl-Maria’s mind from the moment he opened his eyes every morning. There were a several lessons he had learned very early in his new role, the most important being that escape was impossible from this particular establishment and any attempt would be punished severely but even worse, would add to his time at St Jude’s. Equally important was to ensure he did not displease his new overseer and his every waking moment was spent trying to make certain she found as little fault with him as possible. Of course this was impossible and no matter how hard he tried there was always something that she found lacking in his efforts, a thumb print on a plate, the tiniest spot of grease on the stove, her boots not polished to the correct standard. Rarely did a day go by where he did not make some transgression or other. Usually his minor lapses elicited a stream of contempt which left him humiliated in front of the other servants whose laughter served to increase his mortification tenfold.

His most egregious lapses however were punished by being placed over her knees and six strokes of a wooden spoon applied to his buttocks. The first time this occurred the chastisement was to be executed in front of the assembled domestic staff however Mrs Coldstrap in an unusual bout of leniency graciously relented after he fell to his knees, wrapped his arms around her voluminous skirts and begged her to do it in private.  To his great relief every subsequent disciplining of this nature- and there were many- also took place in her bedroom where to his even greater surprise after he had received his correction she became somewhat kind--hearted and compassionate. The distress and humiliation he experienced was eased in the way she held him to her ample bosom as he felt the warmth of her statuesque frame press against him. After the most recent occasion when there was a particularly zealous application of the wooden spoon and his tears freely flowed in avery unbecoming girlish fashion Mrs Coldstrap became quite overcome, kindly insisting he lay on the bed where she could administer some soothing balm. He was too fearful to decline and as he lay face down on her bed she began her ministrations. To his horror he felt something he had not experienced since his incarceration -a faint but recognisable stirring in his nether regions. His humiliation was now superseded by a sudden panic which began to rise together with the engorgement of his organ. Much as he tried to mentally constrain the offending member her gentle touch on his buttocks made it impossible.

Just as it was becoming intolerable he heard a knock on the door, Mrs Coldstrap ignored it but as it became more persistent she broke off her treatment with a growl and went to the door and became engaged in a lengthy conversation with the unwelcome interloper. He gratefully took the opportunity to rise from the bed and arrange his uniform properly.

She eventually returned to him and patting him on the cheek told him in a clearly irritated voice she had been summoned to a meeting with the Headmistress. As she was distracted by this unwelcome news he took the opportunity to escape, mentioning he had various tasks still undone as she fumbled for a clean apron she barely acknowledged his leaving her presence.

That incident had only occurred the previous day and he noticed on her return from the Headmistress her mood was more agitated than was customary and  afraid of repercussions did his best to keep his distance.

So it was with even more trepidation than usual that he began his menial work on this particular morning and he ensured he made as little noise as possible as he moved about the kitchen, cleaning out the stoves before lighting the fires and readying the area for Mrs Coldstrap’s arrival in an hour or so. When she did appear she was too preoccupied with her work and he received a mere three minor scoldings and only one smack on the ear which given what he usually encountered he considered it an excellent start to the day. It was usually around this time that he would try to gauge her humours and plot his strategy for keeping on her good side for the day. This normally involved being as docile and subservient as possible which as a result the regular and many reprimands, admonishments and punishments he  received on a regular basis now came as second nature to him. However it was quite difficult to keep out of her way and in fact the only time he was allowed leave the kitchen and Mrs Coldstrap’s eagle eye was to scrub the front steps of the school as well as the basement steps leading to the kitchen.

It was while he had his head down scouring the stone steps that he heard a voice call out but as none of the pupils lifting their skirts as they passed him ever acknowledged his presence never mind even consider speaking to him he felt he must have misheard. Even more importantly he dare not lift his head from his task for fear of being accused of slacking.

“Girl !”  the voice rang out again but much louder.

From the very first hour of his detention he had been informed males were considered personae non gratae and from that day onward his male name would cease to be used. In fact he was not to have any name and until the Headmistress decided otherwise and as such he would only be addressed as ‘Girl’.  Indeed he had become so used to this designation there were occasions he found it difficult to recall his name and found himself repeating over and over in bed so as not to forget it. However this was becoming more and more difficult to achieve and now he could only vaguely recall it on the rare occasion he had a moment or two to himself.

Now he heard the voice again but it was more impatient this time and he took the chance on raising his head slightly. Standing on the top step was Janet, the head housemaid . 

“Are you being wilfully disobedient, Girl.” she barked. “Or just plain stupid.”

Suddenly realising he was the recipient of her ire he quickly responded in the way that he’d had to learn the hard way.

“No Miss, I’m sorry Miss.

Addressing another servant as ‘Miss’ was merely another humiliation among dozens he endured every day.

“I sincerely hope not girl.” Janet said brusquely “Now come with me the Headmistress wishes to see you. You can collect your scrubbing brush and pail later.”

Perplexed by this summons he almost stumbled up the steps.

“Straighten your uniform girl.” Janet snapped “The Headmistress detests slovenliness.”

Walking across the expansive hallway a shiver went up his spine as he suddenly remembered the only other time he had crossed its highly polished tiles. As a lowly scullery maid he was never allowed above stairs to sully its elegance.

After knocking and being given permissonto enter he now found himself face to face with the woman who had interned him and forced him into the life of a drudge. Anger was absent, that emotion had long been dispatched and had been replaced by resignation of his fate and a flickering hope that someday release may come.

As was usual when he was confronted by a female of any rank he instinctively bobbed a curtsy.

The Headmistress behind her large mahogany desk studied at him over her bifocals and to the increasingly nervous young man it seemed like an eternity before she spoke.

“How long have you been with us, girl?” she eventually said.

It took him several seconds before he found his voice.

“Ah… I…ah…it…”he stammered having no idea as his new life had erased his sense of time.

“Yes I thought so.” The Headmistress said with a degree of satisfaction before giving a little laugh “Time flies when you are enjoying yourself no doubt.”

His eyes dropped to the floor with a sudden onset of shame.

“Would you say you have made progress?”she asked rising from her chair and moving to the front of her desk.

“Oh yes…Mrs…” he blurted forgetting whom he was addressing and suddenly became flustered and a little fearful.

“Madam.” The Headmistress offered helpfully.

“Oh yes Madam.” he spouted enthusiastically.

“Yes Mrs Coldstrap is of the same view.” she concurred “And would like to keep you as her scullery maid , maybe even promote you to kitchen maid. I believe she has a soft spot for you.”

The young man blushed and clutched his drab uniform to stop his hands from shaking.

“Would you like that?”she pressed him further.

At the nightmarish suggestion of a future under Mrs Coldstrap a panic began to rise inside but sensing his imminent collapse the Headmistress quickly added,

“Or would you like to become a junior housemaid?”

His life under Mrs Coldstrap’s austere regimen had seemed like an eternity but was in fact only a matter of weeks. However in this short time the relentlessness of the humiliations and punishments he suffered had stripped him not only of his male clothing but also practically every vestige of masculinity. It was only when he undressed at night he saw the physical signs of his manliness but his state of mind had been so perversely transformed even such evidence seemed more like a mirage than reality. Another one of the Fates cruel tricks.From dawn to dusk being dressed as a scullery maid , performing a female kitchen servant’s menial tasks, constantly addressed as ‘Girl’ had eroded any semblance of maleness and in his confused mind he wasn’t sure if he was male or female.

For the downtrodden and emasculated scullery maid this sudden offer of escaping from the sheer drudgery of life under Mrs Coldstrap was like throwing a life line to a shipwrecked mariner. So devoid was the young man of self-esteem not to mention any appreciable male identity the prospect of ascending the servant hierarchy and becoming a housemaid was almost beyond his wildest dreams. From his lowly position in the kitchen he viewed the housemaids with their smart uniforms as the pinnacle of domestic service.

“Do you understand the Headmistress, girl?” Janet asked impatiently.

“Oh yes…yes Madam.” he blurted excitedly at her prompting.

“Yes I thought you might.” the Headmistress smiled “But it will be a probationary period. If we are not satisfied with you then you will return to Mrs Coldstrap. Do you understand?”

“Yes Madam, thank you Madam.” he babbled gratefully and for good measure curtsied.

“This is a rare opportunity for a scullery maid. ” the Headmistress stressed gravely “I sincerely hope you understand and  will grasp it, otherwise…”

“Oh yes…yes Headmistress.” he blurted excitedly  “I will, I won’t let you down.”

The Headmistress acknowledged the gesture with a contented smile and waved her hand to dismiss him.

“Come along girl.” Janet ordered and they made their exit but not before he thanked the Headmistress and once more curtsied.

As they turned the Headmistress allowed herself a self-satisfied smile.

Janet led him up the servants’ stairs to an attic room which although sparsely furnished was palatial compared to his current accommodation. On the simple iron framed bed there was a black dress, a white apron and matching cap, Janet beckoned him to disrobe and put them on. He stood staring at the garments and felt his heart thumping in his chest. The first time he was confronted with a set of female clothing, the dismal uniform he now wore, there was no such invitation. He was held by two large and hefty female outdoor servants while he was forcibly dressed. Subsequent attempts to cast them off were met by severe canings until he learned there was no escape from their humiliating envelopment. He quickly realised continuing with such resistance was quite useless in the face of the overwhelming forces ranged against him. The flame of masculinity that once burned so vigorously inside was now a faint, almost imperceptible ember.

As his gaze lingered on the garments his masculinity was now far from his thoughts, he only saw the neat and elegant uniform of a housemaid and with it the once seemingly unobtainable possibility of fleeing Mrs Coldstrap’s clutches.  Janet smiled as she watched his hand tentatively reach out to touch the dress almost as if he was handling some precious artefact. The haughty arrogance of the young man she had witnessed walk through the front door a short time ago was completely absent. His self-confidence and swagger replaced now by a timidity and subservience instilled by Mrs Coldstraps’s relentless regime of subjugation. Fear of a return to her control would doubtless ensure his continuing obedience.

It was with a mixture of giddiness and relief that he hurriedly removed his scullery maid’s dull garb and donned his new attire. He quickly if a little clumsily pulled the dress over his head and lost no time in securing the buttons almost as if afraid the garment would magically leave him  if he did not quickly anchor it to himself. Janet watched with a smirk as he put on the pinafore apron and expertly tied it into a perfect bow at the back. She could barely contain her amusement as he picked up the frilled cap and quickly moved to the small mirror on the wall. It was something he enviously witnessed the housemaids do in the kitchen before they presented themselves upstairs. Remembering their every move he ensured the cap was correctly positioned on his head and pinned it in place before presenting himself to his new supervisor for approval.

“Hmm… not bad…but there’s still something not quite right ...”she hesitated  trying to determine the solution “ A little too much masculinity but a little powder and some light lip colouring should repair the damage.”

At the mention this something deep inside him stirred. He briefly considered questioning such measures but such was his state of excitement at being free of Mrs Coldstrap he immediately disregarded the notion, besides risking Janet’s ire at questioning her authority was far too great a chance to take.

The faint ember of masculinity grew slightly dimmer.

 

“No one likes to see a mannish servant girl above stairs.” she said as she administered the final touches “Isn’t that correct girl.”

“Yes…yes....”he replied quickly, feeling that to disagree would incur his supervisor’s irritation and the consequences were too terrible to contemplate.

He remained silent as she completed her task and once satisfied moved him to the mirror to see the results. Denied a mirror since his incarceration he gazed intently at the reflection and discovered he had to concentrate to discern what should have been familiar features. Despite the evidence of his own eyes he found it difficult to believe these characteristics , now softened by the addition of cosmetics, were indeed those of his own.

“It’s not seemly for a girl, especially a junior housemaid to admire herself.” Janet said a little scornfully but seeing what a good job she had done softened her tone “Although I suppose in your case it’s understandable. Now come along girl, you have work to do.”

As they descended the backstairs Janet informed him of his various duties and how he was to conduct himself now that he would be working ‘above stairs’. This instruction continued as they emerged from behind a green baize door on one of the floors where the school’s pupils had their rooms. As they passed a full length mirror mounted on the wall the young man caught a glimpse of himself and marvelled not only at the difference his new uniform made but also how different his face appeared. Gone was the drab and gloomy wretch that toiled miserably under Mrs Coldstrap’s, it was replaced by a figure whose face had a lighter and more hopeful aspect.  

Janet stopped at a door and after knocking lightly received permission to enter and tucking himself behind her he too slipped inside. The opulence of the room took Karl-Maria’s breath away and he almost gasped as his eyes took the elegantly appointed décor and furniture. Mrs Coldstrap’s unrelenting and often comfortless regimen left little time for him to dwell on his former existence life and to avoid her sharp tongue he quickly adapted to life below stairs. The incessant work of a scullery maid   had been managed to diminish memories of his previous privileged life and he almost forget he once slept in a room similar to this one. Now, in these surroundings and much like his dormant masculinity, visions of his entitled past flashed briefly in his brain.

And with these memories came some vague emotional stirrings deep within him however just as he was reflecting on these Janet’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“The new girl Madam.” she said and he suddenly became aware of being pushed towards the Headmistress and a young woman in a state of semi-undress.

“We have a new maid, Headmistrass?” the girl, ignored the two servants and addressed the Headmistress

“I would not say new, Bella.” The Headmistress replied moving closer to two servants. “I have promoted the scullery maid, for a probationary period of course. But as Head Girl I would welcome your views.”

“The scullery maid.!” the girl repeated , the surprise and more than a hint of delight evident in her voice, her interest now piqued she followed the Headmistress across the room, the half-crinoline perched on her hips swaying as she moved.

As the two intimidating figures approached him any thoughts or remembrances of his former life vanished immediately, a familiar anxiety reasserted itself. His only concern now was to ensure he was not returned to the clutches of the waiting Mrs Coldstrap. The lowly servant he had become reasserted itself and as the two ladies came to a halt in front of him he lowered his eyes and in an automatic response to the presence of any female he immediately curtsied. He felt both excited and apprehensive, apart from his recent interview with the Headmistress, this was the first time he had come face to face with one of the teaching staff or a pupil. Of course they had passed him as he scrubbed the front steps but the only part of them he saw was the hems of their dresses as they went by, never acknowledging his existence but then why would they or anyone else for that matter notice a scullery maid- that was the lot of the lowest servant.

The only thought that now occupied his excited brain was to make a good impression.

“This is that dreadful boy who arrived some time ago?” Bella asked the Headmistress a little incredulously.

The Headmistress smiled and placing her forefinger under his chin lifted Karl-Maria’s head and her eyes met his.

“Answer, Miss Bella, girl”

Being addressed as ‘girl’ everyday, suffering various indignities and humiliations had weakened his resolve, this combined with Mrs Coldstrap’s regimen of long hours and hard work had gone a long way in erasing his sense of self.  When he did have a moment to reflect ,he now rarely thought of himself as male –he had come to consider himself as merely the scullery maid. The elegance of the room in which he now stood had momentarily reawakened vague visions of a previous life but the immediacy of his prospects of escaping Mrs Coldstrap had quickly dispelled those recollections.

“Ah…I… umm…ah…”he stammered and instinctively curtsying added “Yes… Miss.”

“And where have you been hiding yourself?” Bella asked with a half smile.

His eyes dropped to the floor once more.

“Answer Miss Bella, girl.” Janet prodded him once more.

“In the kitchens Miss.” he replied with a deference he now found as natural as breathing, a nod of Janet’s head indicated that he should expand on his answer “ As Mrs Coldstrap’s scullery maid, Miss.”

 “Ah yes.” Bella sighed “That is where the more disobedient boys are sent for…”

“Guidance…” the Headmistress helpfully added as she continued her inspection of the new maid making a slight adjustment to the straps of his apron“…to improve their character.”

“And has your character improved?” Bella continued probing.

“Oh, yes Miss.” he was quick to respond, images of scrubbing floors and scouring pots and pans loomed large in his head. “I’ve learned a lot.”

The young man now felt he was within touching distance of deliverance from the purgatory of life as a scullery maid.

“I’m so glad to hear it.” Bella said “And your ambition now is to...”

She paused for a moment and glanced at the Headmistress who smiled and nodded for her to continue but a clearly over-excited eagerness in the youth’s voice finished the sentence.

“To become a housemaid Miss.”

Do you think this is possible Headmistress.” Bella said a note of caution in her tone “Having a male as a scullery maid in the kitchen where no one would see him is one thing, but he would be visible to pupils and visitors as a housemaid.  Perhaps it is too early for him to be promoted I wonder if another spell under Mrs Coldstrap would be more beneficial. After all the position is for a girl.”

Karl-Maria felt the prize being torn from his grasp. He fell to his knees and clutched the girl’s ankles, sobbing

“Oh please…please Miss Bella.

“Well he is not the prettiest I grant you.” the Headmistress said “but Mrs Coldstrap tells me although not perfect he is making progress in comporting himself as a female. In as much as a scullery maid can I suppose.”

The three women looked down at the pathetic figure who had now taken up position at the feet of the Headmistress.

“He is not the most nimble and does tend to be somewhat awkward in his gait, Madam. Janet offered helpfully “but there is no doubt he does appear to have acquired some female traits, perhaps in time he could reasonably be regarded as female. If he is prepared to make the effort that is.”

“Is that right?” Bella said and looking down at the pitiful shape clutching at the hem of the Headmistress’s skirts.  “Would you like to become more… like a girl?”

Another lifeline now dangled in front of him and despite his distress he grabbed at it immediately.

“Oh yes, yes Miss Bella.” he exclaimed eagerly, his face a mixture of hope and gratitude.

“Well I suppose if he quickly develops female traits and habits he may make a reasonably presentable housemaid.” Bella spoke directly to the Headmistress.

“As I said Bella, it will be for a probationary period.” the Headmistress replied and turned her attention to the young man still clinging to her skirts and motioned him to stand and spoke to him in a cautionary tone “Of course if you disappoint Miss Bella or Janet it will be back to the kitchen for you. Do you understand girl?”

“Yes Headmistress, of course Headmistress.” he blurted  and curtsied “I promise I will do anything asked of me.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” the Headmistress said.

“Now that he is a junior housemaid should we decide on a name for him, Headmistress?” Bella suggested.

“Mmm… I suppose we should.” the Headmistress answered, examining his face as if looking for inspiration.

“Fetch Miss Bella’s petticoats from Miss Bella’s dressing room, Janet will show you where they are,” The Headmistress eventually said gesturing to Janet “while Miss Bella and I will consider an appropriate female name for you.”

After another curtsy he walked with Janet to retrieve the garments ensuring he swayed his hips slightly to affect a more feminine gait and for the first time in what seemed for an eternity he allowed himself a brief and furtive smile of relief.

A junior housemaid  he said to himself with  mixture of pride and relief.

He now realised he had the opportunity to finally slip the chains of Mrs Coldstrap and glancing around at his elegant surroundings was determined never to return.