A Proper Lady

Elizabeth Pavlov Dryden was in a terrible, rotten, no-good mood today, and nobody, not even her mother, could convince her otherwise. Especially her mother, who right now was the last person that she wanted to see. Outside her bedroom window, the first golden rays of the sun peeked up over the horizon to shine through a gap in the London city haze, a rare occurrence given that they lived near the Thames, but Elizabeth was in no mood to appreciate the view. The memories of what happened last night were all too fresh, and she closed her eyes as she tried to go back to sleep. The world outside could afford to wait a little longer for her to get up today.

A minute later however, prompted by the chiming of the grandfather clock downstairs, footsteps echoed out in the hallway, and a knock sounded against her door.

"Go away, I'm sleeping," said Elizabeth.

The door opened, and Sarah, one of the maids, stuck her head inside.

"Young Mistress, if you don't get up soon, your mother will be cross," she said.

"Then let her," said Elizabeth, "As if she isn't already."

Elizabeth huffed and pulled halfheartedly at the ropes that secured her wrists to the bedframe above her head. Another product of the events from last night, and one that had taken all four of the maids working together under the directions of her mother to accomplish. Of course, that naturally included Sarah as well. Dragging herself up onto her pillows, Elizabeth glared daggers at the girl that stood in front of her. Sarah blinked, and walking over to the side of the bed, she began to untie the bonds.

"You know, your mother hardly slept at all last night," she said.

"Oh?" said Elizabeth.

She scowled as Sarah pulled at a particularly stubborn knot with her hands.

"She's frantic, she doesn't know what to do," said Sarah.

"And what does that have to do with me?" said Elizabeth.

Sarah kept silent as she moved over to the other side of the bed. The second knot loosened, and a minute later, Elizabeth felt the tension in the rope slacken as both her limbs came free. Brining her arms together in front of her, she winced as she rubbed her fingers over the marks on her wrists. Sleeping with both of her hands tied up had been more tiring than she thought.

As Sarah bent down to gather up the ropes, Elizabeth yawned and climbed out of bed. A few seconds later, the maid returned from the closet again with the set of clothes picked out for her today. Stretching her arms up, Elizabeth let her discarded nightgown fall to the floor. Her light-colored hair fell around her shoulders as she began the long and arduous process of getting dressed.

Elizabeth winced as Sarah pulled the laces of her dress together behind her back.

"Not so tight," she said.

"I apologize, Young Mistress," said Sarah.

The bindings loosened as Sarah untied them, and the clamshell waist of the dress opened up a little as Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. She held the air inside her lungs, expanding her chest out as much as she could before Sarah could draw the strings together behind her back. Only once the bindings were secure did she let the air out, and the stiffness of the fabric came squeezed back down again. Standing beside her, Sarah waited patiently for her to adjust to the tightness of the first layer before she moved to pick up the next.

"Would you prefer yellow or blue today?" asked Sarah, "Or perhaps..."

Elizabeth sighed as the other girl waited for her to choose.

"Just pick one," she said.

Sarah chose the yellow petticoat, the one with frills running down the length of the sleeves, and Elizabeth clenched her teeth as the maid pushed her arms into the sleeves. She felt her shoulders wavering a little as the weight of the fabric settled down around her chest. Despite the chilliness of the morning air, she was already starting to feel hot underneath the thickness of everything she had to wear.

Hot because of the clothes, she reminded herself, and not because of something else.

The thought was soon lost though as Sarah moved her head forward to help tie her hair up. Turning to look into the mirror besides her bed, Elizabeth examined the reflection that stared back at her. Underneath the pale green eyes staring back at her, and the golden colored curls on her head, a deep flush was already starting to spread down to her neck where she counted no less than one, two, three layers of petticoats, crinolines, and corsets. She looked to the remaining pile of clothes next to her in despair. They weren't even halfway through the set.

"Please hold still, Young Mistress," said Sarah.

Elizabeth grit her teeth together again in response. Oh, what she would give to be free from the responsibilities of her role. Instead of granting her wish however, God had seen it fit to make her a girl. In days like these, with the heat of the fireplace built up against the dampness outside, she could only imagine how miserable she would be by the time the sun went back down.

It wasn't until another half hour later that Elizabeth finally breathed out a sigh of relief.

"What do you think?" asked Sarah.

Elizabeth turned to look into the mirror for a second time.

"Wonderful," she said, "As always"

For most of the girls she knew, the specific intricacies of the outfit were designed with more than just one purpose in mind. Besides the most obvious goal of protecting their modesty, the clothes also served as a way for them to show off their status and wealth. For her though, with her narrow waist and lack of breasts, the entire thing just looked ridiculous instead. With the sheer amount of clothing draped around her, she felt as if she was little more than a human doll forced into an oversized dress.

Besides her, Sarah took a step back and bowed her head. In comparison to her own heavy outfit, the girl wore a much lighter one instead, consisting of only a simple black and white garb in the style of a French maid dress. It was enough to make Elizabeth jealous sometimes of how straightforward it looked. So simple and carefree, as if the girl able to do whatever she wanted whenever she pleased. None of the silly rules that forever bound her as a lady of the upper class.

Elizabeth huffed in annoyance.

"Is there anything to your displeasure?" asked Sarah.

Elizabeth frowned and shook her head.

"No, it's just...," she said.

Her head felt light as she struggled to draw in air. Trapped under a mountain of clothes, the bindings meant to straighten her posture felt more like a band of rubber constantly squeezing all the air out of her chest. Sarah stepped forward to hold her, and after a moment, Elizabeth regained her breath. It felt as if she was trapped in a prison with the individual layers acting as the bars to her cell.

"Thank you," said Elizabeth.

Sarah opened the door for her, together they made their way down the stairs. The smell of breakfast drifted over to them, and Elizabeth's stomach growled. Scrambled eggs with a generous helping of toast and jam. Before she could make her way to the kitchen however, the maid stopped and pulled her aside.

"Please be patient, Young Mistress," she said, "Your mother had ordered for you to be examined first."

Elizabeth scowled. She had been expecting this conversation ever since the events of last night, but she hadn't expected for it to happen so soon.

"Examined? By who?" she said.

"Dr. Roland," said Sarah, "Your mother sent him a telegram, and he's worried that eating first would affect the results of the exam."

Anger rose inside her, and despite herself, Elizabeth jerked her hand away.

"This is ridiculous, I'm not even sick," said Elizabeth.

She started to make her way towards the kitchen, but Sarah grabbed onto her again. This time however, the maid seemed intent on making her stay.

"Please, you must understand," said Sarah, "If... if your mother catches you, I'll be punished as well."

They stopped in the middle of the hall and Elizabeth sighed in annoyance. If it was just her then maybe she could get away with it, but her mother was relentless when it came to punishing the maids. It just wouldn't be fair for Sarah to suffer for what she did. She tugged at the collar of her dress as she tried to draw in another breath of air. It was hard to think like this underneath the weight of all her clothes.

"Well, why don't you...," said Elizabeth.

Before she could finish the thought however, a knock sounded out against the front door, and just as Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask who it was, there was a flutter of movement as her mother rushed out from a nearby room. The door cracked open, and peeking around the edge, Elizabeth tried to see who was there. A single glance however was enough to make her pull away again. Standing right outside on the front doorstep was Dr. Roland, and as he looked up to greet her, Elizabeth swallowed on a dry throat.

&&&&&&

Dr. Roland was a thin and hungry looking man with a sour and dour face that looked as if it had gone bad some twenty odd years ago. His personality was much about the same, a mirror match of his appearance even down to the way he spoke. Were it not for his numerous medical treatises and his membership in the Royal Society, Elizabeth doubted her father would have ever hired him at all. Hire him he did though, and Dr. Roland stared down at her as he stepped inside.

"Good morning, Mrs. Dryden, is this the patient?" he asked.

As always, straight and to the point, another attribute that her father valued as a businessman. For her though, Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to feel the same way. She had always hated doctor visits, and the absolute seriousness with which Dr. Roland treated his patients didn't help at all.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is," said her mother.

They both looked at her, and Elizabeth shivered in response before her mother turned to talk with the doctor again. As always, she spoke with the expected mannerisms of her class, holding herself upright with the posture of a proper lady as she talked. Today though, some of the usual regality she always wore was gone, and she bore a thin line on her face that spoke of a night spent unslept.

It took her mother a moment to find where to begin.

"Last night... Elizabeth, well, we...," she said.

Her mother stopped briefly, as if unsure what to say, and Dr. Roland waited for her to finish. It was only after a few more attempts that she was able to get the words right, as if they contained something too disgusting to be said aloud.

"Well, we caught her," she said.

Elizabeth turned bright red, and there was a pause as Dr. Roland tried to understand. He frowned in confusion.

"Caught her? What do you mean?" he asked.

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. The same ones that...

"With her hands between her legs," said her mother.

Now, more than ever before, Elizabeth prayed that she could turn invisible and disappear. This was it. This was how she was going to die. Sitting in the middle of her living room with her mother and Dr. Roland standing around her as she collapsed to the floor. Alas, goodbye sweet world, and the eighteen years of life she had lived. There was just no way she could survive the embarrassment of her shame now. Especially not after her sin had been spoken of out loud.

After a moment though, when death didn't come, she peeked through her fingers to see the two still talking between themselves as if she wasn't there. Briefly, Dr. Roland turned to look at her with a concerned look on his face.

"Was she doing anything else?" he asked slowly.

"We...," said her mother.

"Any cries or noises perhaps?" he said.

Another pause, and Elizabeth buried her face in her hands once more. Even her mother seemed a little embarrassed by the question, and she seemed to shrink down as if forcing herself to accept the reality what had occurred.

"Yes, she was moaning," said her mother.

The memory was still fresh, and Elizabeth desperately tried to think of anything else expect the events of last night. Enraptured by the bliss, she had been just on the cusp of finishing as well, teetering on the edge of the most wonder feeling in the world when her mother had burst in on her with the sheets pushed out of the way and her nightgown pulled all the way up to her chest. Her mother had taken one look at the scene before she had fled, crying out for the maids. A moment later, they arrived and with a length of rope, the four of them had tied her down to the bed. Elizabeth had spent the rest of the night in misery as her core throbbed with the unspent release she could have had. The feeling of emptiness was made all the more worse by the fact that it was the first time she had dared to go so far. Previous to that, the most she had ever done to herself was a soft touch that lasted barely longer than a minute at most. Afterwards, kept awake by the frustration of her bottled up desires, it had taken until the early hours of the morning for her to finally fall asleep.

Thinking about it now brought the blood rushing up to her face again, and she pressed her legs together as Dr. Roland leaned forward to examine her with a critical eye.

"Female hysteria," he said, "Not an uncommon problem among girls who bodies are still in the midst of change. If left untreated however, the symptoms will only grow worse."

"Symptoms?" blurted out Elizabeth.

Her mother glared at her for the outburst, but the doctor continued as if it hadn't occurred.

"Yes, inability to focus, lack of concentration, general uncontrollability" he said, "If this is the first time it's occurred however, there should only be a small chance of any lasting effects provided regular treatments are started soon."

Dr. Roland looked over to where her mother stood.

"I will need to conduct a routine examination," he said, "With your permission?"

Her mother nodded, and despite how much she tried to keep herself calm, Elizabeth found herself taking a step away. Now, while they were still in the public area of the living room? She glanced about as if looking for a way to escape. Trapped under the stern gaze of her mother however, she knew that once the woman had made up her mind, there would be no turning back until the task was through.

&&&&&&

It took another half hour of convincing by the doctor before Elizabeth had finally allowed the exam to start. It was madness, pure madness. Why couldn't they move instead to the privacy of her room? She looked over to her mother, but the only response she received was a cold stare that she should do as she was told. As Dr. Roland reached into his bag to take out a pair of rubber gloves, Elizabeth winced at the sound. She always hated the slimy texture the material gave off, and she shuddered to think of where he would be touching her now.

"Your clothes, if you will," said Dr. Roland.

Sarah rushed over to assist, and Elizabeth turned even more red than she had been before. Already, she could feel her stomach dropping at the thought of what was to come. Besides just the hassle of getting ready in the morning, the other downside of having to wear so many layers was the sheer amount of time it took to take it all off. In the isolated confines of her own room, it wasn't too much of a bother, but standing here in the living room with everyone watching, the embarrassment would only be multiplied tenfold. Elizabeth shivered as she felt Sarah reach behind her to undo the bindings of her dress. The first set of straps came free, and the shoulder of the dress fell away to reveal the layer below.

"All of it," said Dr. Roland, "I'll need full access from head to toe."

By now, several of the other maids had gathered around the edges of the room along with a few of the servants, and they watched on in eagerness as Sarah bent down to undo the ties holding her skirts in place. Elizabeth held still as the fabric fell to the floor. Despite the fireplace next to her and how hot it was, the only thing she could felt now was cold. Lifting her foot up, she stepped free from the discarded article as Sarah continued with the task of stripping her nude.

Another strap, another button, another piece of lace, on and on it went until at last, a quarter of an hour later, she was left in nothing but her underclothes. Then, that too was gone as Sarah lifted the fabric up and out of the way to remove. Quite a few snickers went up around the room as Elizabeth was left standing with her naked breasts on display. Blushing, she tried to cover herself up, but Dr. Roland moved her hands out of the way.

"None of that, be a good girl now," he said.

There was a small stool nearby, and Sarah went over to fetch the waist-high chair from where it stood on the other side of the room. She brought it back, and leaning over the low surface of the seat, Elizabeth grabbed on to the limbs on the opposite side. She tried to keep her legs together to protect what little modesty she had left, but it was almost a futile gesture given what came next. Reaching out with his hands to spread her cheeks, Dr. Roland scooped up a generous amount of lubricating grease with his finger and spread the substance across her backdoor. Drawing a thermometer out from his bag, he placed it against her hole, and Elizabeth shivered as she felt the cold surface of the glass bulb push its way inside.

"Oooohhhhhh..."

It was far from the first time that she had her temperature taken, but every time she did, the feeling of having something shoved inside her back there only grew worse. Elizabeth clenched down as she felt the bulb spreading her apart little by little until she felt like she was going to burst. Then, just when she thought she couldn't take any more, the widest part made it past her entrance, and aided by the lubrication, the rest of the shaft slid inside. At a little over half an inch wide, the thermometer scraped up against her walls as the doctor pushed the instrument deeper within her bowls.

"Five minutes, hold it in now," he said.

He gave the thermometer a few taps to ensure that it was secure before allowing her to stand back up. Elizabeth did so, clenching down the best she could to stop it from slipping back out. With the wide end of the bulb buried inside her bottom, she could only imagine how she looked with the upper half of the glass rod still sticking out. Five minutes was a long time to wait when her face was as red as the mercury inside.

In the meantime, Dr. Roland turned her around to examine her breasts. Reaching up with his fingers, he traced a circle around each of her nipples, just outside the darkened patches of her areola. Still in the midst of developing, they felt especially sensitive, and Elizabeth shrunk back as the two points swelled up from the small mounds on her chest. Dr. Roland reached up to cup each of them in his hands.

"Sensitivity nominal," he said, "Though the severity of the reaction is another indicator of hysteria as well."

He continued on with the examination for another while, rubbing his thumbs over the sensitive points as they rose up into the air. Only once he was satisfied with his findings did he motion for her to turn over the stool once more. Grabbing hold of the thermometer, he drew it out of her to check the measurement on the glass. Elizabeth felt herself clenching down against the smoothness of the instrument as the bulb stretched her apart once more.

"Ninety-nine point two degrees," he said.

He frowned and rubbed his chin.

"Slightly above average, though not by much," he said.

Her mother leaned over to look.

"Is she sick?" she asked.

Wiping the end of the bulb with a cleaning cloth, the doctor put the instrument away and sighed. He spoke slowly, as if the diagnosis was just out of reach.

"Not necessarily," he said, "Though a higher body temperature is also another sign of the disease, without much else, I'm afraid it's still too early to say."