Even as dour as Dorcas had appeared, she couldn’t help but smile in the face of Emmy’s childlike enthusiasm over the gowns while the servant laughed merrily. “Come, we’ll help you put it on then.”
“I can dress myself,” Emmy objected. “I’m a big girl now.”
“Nonsense and I do mean nonsense,” Dorcas injected sternly. “No woman can get in one of these be herself.”
“Alright then.” Shrugging, Emmy peeled off her jacket. Jeans went next with a little work. The maid looked intrigued as she picked them up off the floor, but as her blouse fell open, both the maid and Dorcas gasped. “What?” Emmy asked, puzzled.
Dorcas recovered first shaking her head. “I apologize. I had assumed you to be wearing the proper garments. We were not expecting you to be bare.”
Emmy glanced at what she was wearing and frowned at her perfectly acceptable lace demi-bra. “I am not bare.”
“Bare enough,” the other lady sniffed with scorn. “I will have Margo fetch you the proper foundations.”
“The proper found…?” Now it was Emmy’s turn to gasp. “You don’t mean a – a corset, do you?” She stuttered out the word in horror. At their synchronized nods, Emmy shook her head clutching her shirt to her midsection and backing away. “Are you kidding me? I don’t think so! I am not contorting my body for you or anyone!”
“It is what a proper lady wears,” Dorcas argued looking emphatically determined to have it done.
“Well, call me a peasant then, because I won’t do it. I will wear my own bra and it will be just fine.” Emmy crossed her arms determinedly. Really, time travel was one thing but a corset!
“I’m afraid the gown will not fit you without the corset, mum,” the maid, Margo, offered uncertainly. “Your waistline is trim, but your bosom is too big this way.” She held her hands out in front of her.
Again, Emmy found herself looking down and shrugged dismissively. “That’s just a push-up bra. They don’t do that all by themselves. Without it maybe we’ll be ok.”
Remaining solid in her stand that she would not wear the corset they offered, Emmy managed to get into the dress without it but soon found out there was no way it would fastened around her torso. So much for being a thin woman! Resigned to give the alternative a try after much cajoling from Margo and a near lecture from Dorcas, Emmy stripped off her bra while Margo lowered a thin shirt, a chemise, over her head. The corset came next, again over her head as it was already partially laced. It was a beautiful creation of pale pink satin and lace and embroidered around the edges with tiny roses and cherubs.
‘Hiding the devil inside’, Emmy thought. “Are we talking whalebone or steel here?” she asked nervously as Margo adjusted it.
“The supports are steel bands,” came the answer. Emmy knew it was true as she felt its weight settle on her hips. The first pull of the strings brought a surprised grunt.
“This is so…not...good...for you,” she gasped as the chuckling maid continued to pull and tighten the garment. It wasn’t precisely painful, but uncomfortable to say the least.
Dorcas was examining Emmy’s discarded bra with interest. The ivory satin cups seemed to intrigue her as did the tag when she found it. “Victoria’s Secret. Heather? What is the secret? And what does 3, 4, D, D mean?”
A flush grew on Emmy’s cheeks despite her inability to take a deep breath. She had always been large-breasted but well proportioned for her build. After all she was tall and while narrow around her rib cage, had wide curving hips and broad enough shoulders to carry off her cup size nicely. She had been teased by nickname ‘Double D’ since the 7th grade. Occasionally past boyfriends commented that ‘more than a handful was a waste’ making Emmy feel slightly self-conscience though she was otherwise proud of her body. “It’s ummm, an item number, so you know which…ummm color you like,” she responded feebly.
“It is a very interesting garment.”
“It seems that this thing does about the same job but with ten times the pain.” The corset was finally in place. Although tight, Emmy supposed that she had her natural thinness to thank for the little oxygen she was receiving. The corset pushed her up, out and held her firmly. When prompted, she stepped into a pile of fabric Margo laid out on the floor. It was all pulled and tied about her waist. Petticoats, she realized. Then some sort of wire basket as tied on over her back side. What was that all about?
“So, Dory, what’s the deal with Connor?” Emmy prompted as the gown itself was finally lowered over her upraised arms.
“What do you mean?” Dorcas asked as she and the maid twitched and adjusted the gown until it hung as it was supposed to. Dorcas nodded to Margo who began the process of fastening the multitude of buttons up the back.
“Why is he…him?” was her reply. “I get the feeling he’s like the boss or something. Is it the laird thing?” The low neckline of the gown pushed her already upthrust breasts up even more until they felt as if they would spill out over the top of the dress. Well, that was a Saturday night in college not all that long ago. She could live with it.
“It is his life’s work to provide for the earldom and his clan. It is all he does,” Dorcas responded tartly.
“Ever?”
“It seems so,” Dory
