I'm startled by a knock at my drawing room door. Immediately I turn to check the clock and I'm shocked to see that nearly an hour has passed. "What is it, Alice?" I call out.
"The doctor has arrived, my lady."
He's early. Certainly better than the alternative. "Send him into the parlor, I'll receive him there." I feel my hands tremble in... anticipation? Fear? Excitement? I can't quite tell.
"Right away, my lady." Alice calls out, and I hear her trot away to invite the doctor in. I stand up, feel my knees shaking as well. My goodness this is no way for a Marchioness to hold herself I think to myself, but then my husband the is so distant, I can hardly consider myself married to him. What distinguishes me from being a mere baroness? I steady my breath and proceed to the parlor. I arrive before Alice and the doctor and sit down in an ornate red chair, waiting for them to arrive.
Shortly thereafter, Alice opens the door. "Doctor Thomas Maxwell, my lady." She steps aside, revealing a man carrying a small briefcase. He's a bit taller than I expected, with long, dark blond hair. He wears round glasses and a navy blue jacket. His eyes are such a brilliant blue color that it's almost all I can see, even from some 50 feet away.
"Good afternoon my lady, Doctor Thomas Maxwell at your service." His introduction shocks out of a slight stupor and I turn again to address him.
"Doctor Maxwell, I've summoned you on recommendation of the other noblewomen of this area. I understand you are able to treat... hysteria without use of the new electric devices, is that correct?" immediately I am embarrassed both for my inability to say hysteria and for my admitting it is the condition for which I have requested treatment.
"That is correct, my lady. Is it for this that you've summoned me?" His calm, matter-of-fact demeanor is at once comforting and off-putting. I feel a twinge of anger-- no, not anger, perhaps frustration, at him, as well as another feeling I cannot quite identify.
Quietly taking a deep breath, I respond. "That is correct, yes." As if by reflex, I uncross my legs. "What would this treatment entail?"
He responds again with the tantalizing-- no, irritating clinical dryness. "Well, my lady, as you are likely aware, the accepted treatment for hysteria is extended stimulation of the genitals, in order to induce a release of your excess feminine energy. Does this please my lady?" I feel myself sweating between my legs and so spread them apart further.
"If it will indeed treat my-- hysteria, then yes, I will allow it." Again with the pause before hysteria, I scold myself internally.
"Very good my lady." The doctor looks around the room. "If I may make such a request, might you move to the sofa over there? The arms of your current seat would impede my access."
Suddenly I am apprehensive, but I wish not to show it. "Of course, whatever you need, doctor." I stand up and feel my legs shaking, sweat dripping down my thighs. Curses! I've forgotten to wear undergarments. I suppose it matters not now, as they'd simply be removed anyway. Nevertheless, I am mortified. I walk over to the couch, my knees wobbling to and fro. Thank goodness my dress hides this fact. Upon sitting on the sofa, I'm suddenly acutely aware of the fact that I will be facing a large window, overlooking my husband's preferred golf course. I feel a quiet ball of rage at my neglectful husband build in my chest, but quickly quell it. Now is not the time.
Doctor Maxwell sits down in front of me, asks "My lady, if I may lift your dress."
"Yes doctor, whatever you need." I continue to quietly seethe at my husband's golf course, not quite aware of what the doctor is doing between my legs. Damn that man, the marquis. When I had first married Henry I truly believed that my life would change for the better. His station was as high as I could ever dare to dream as a mere viscount's daughter, to move out to this idyllic countryside, having access nearly to my own private estate.
Of course, I could not have known just how true this would be. Henry spent four out of every five weeks tending to some some estate or issue elsewhere, always leaving me here in the nearly empty manor in Creswell to "look after the gardens." The gardens of which he is so particular that I might not plant but a single tulip if I so desired, though the design is so plain as to induce a palpable ennui unto any guest. And what little time he does spend in Creswell is almost invariably spent on that damned golf course.
"My lady, are you prepared to begin treatment?" I'm briefly startled out of my odious stupor by doctor Maxwell. I look down and see him between my legs, my dress pulled up, my womanhood thoroughly exposed. I feel a pulsing heat between my legs, and feel my stomach tighten considerably.
"Yes, on with it." I look back at my husband's golf course, unable to calm the seething hatred I feel. How dare he wed me, promise me so much, and then sentence me to this, this, downright asphodelian monotony. My status begets nothing of value, my days are spent wandering the manor, "monitoring" the enervating exterior décor. I experience nothing, the days blend together into weeks, into months, I've not even the foggiest idea how long we've been married as there have been naught but the seasons to track the time. Six years, perhaps? Seven? Ten? Three?
"Everything alright my lady? You seem a bit stressed." I hear doctor Maxwell's voice from below, as he stops stroking my thighs. I'm suddenly aware that he's been doing this for the past several minutes.
I am immediately irritated that he is no longer stroking my thighs and I bark at him. "Get on with it doctor."
"As you wish." He returns his hands between my legs, stroking the outside of my womanhood. I take a deep breath. I've never before been touched so gently in such a sensitive area. I can feel my heartbeat strongly throughout my lower body. He suddenly strokes it directly and I feel a bout of intense yet gentle pleasure quite unlike anything from my prior experience. At once I understand viscerally why the Viscountess of Glenstuffordshire recommended this doctor so strongly. I try to suppress a moan. I don't know how successful I am and I feel myself turn beet red. I look down at the doctor to see if he noticed, but he seems too focused on his work. I try to take a deep breath, but it turns out quite shaky, as I feel him spread the petals of my private flower. Unexpectedly, the doctor inserts a finger into me and I'm overcome with sensation. I feel my lower body move, though I'm not sure exactly how.
