Costume Drama

I stood, feeling faintly ridiculous in my sister's fine undergarments and thigh-high stockings. I held my hands awkwardly, unsure what to do with them.

"Stop fidgeting, Edward." said Mother firmly. "Do you understand why I have had you put on your sister's underthings?"

"Not really, mother," I said, shuffling and looking at my feet.

"If you are to act as a woman, you must feel like one, Edward. These soft garments will remind you of your disguise at every moment. Further, I shall begin to call you by your sister's name. I task you not to respond to the name of Edward until this trick is done, for it should surely ruin everything!" she explained.

I nodded at her. "I understand, Mother. If I am to try this deceit, I will strive to make it as true as possible. After all, if I am discovered, my own reputation will surely be damaged most thoroughly!"

"Indeed, Evelyn. I shall show you how we may use makeup to smooth your skin and shade your eyes, that you pass as a woman more easily. I shall style one of my wigs to pass for Evelyn's own hair; then we shall pass the day walking and talking through the mannerisms you must adopt to fool Mr. Graves and his solicitor."

I took a breath, and nodded. Mother picked up the underskirt and had me step into it; pulling it up over my stockings, and drawing it tight about my waist. The two layers of fine fabric rubbing against my legs felt oddly arousing as I walked to sit at the dressing table once more; this time facing the mirror. I felt my shaft stir slightly in its cotton prison, bringing a slight blush to my cheeks.

Next, I took a birch twig and chewed the end soft, using it to apply bicarbonate of soda to my teeth, bringing to them a pleasing whiteness. Once I was done and spat; Mother handed me a clay bowl of squeezed lemon juice, telling me to rinse my mouth and gargle. My mouth foamed over as I did this, requiring me to wipe my chin dry.

Mother showed me how to apply a pale powder to my face and neck to smooth out minor blemishes, and then faint traces of 'blusher' to my cheeks. The palest blue eye-shadow was applied to my upper eyelids. I expected more, but Mother explained that the idea was to leave me looking as though I was not truly wearing made-up. Lip-lacquer and eye-lash powder might be required at a formal dinner, but not on an ordinary day.

Mother had me file away at my nails with a strip of wood coated in sand as she worked away at the wig she had brought; trimming it slightly, and straightening the hair with heavy blocks of brass, warmed in the fire. Under Mother's direction, once I was done with my nails, I took a straight-razor to the fine down on my arms and hands; before powdering them to a fine smoothness.

Mother now had me lift my arms, and slipped over them a corset, bringing it down to sit on my hips. We spent the next twenty minutes with Mother working hard to tighten the strong cords at the back. I was panting for breath by the end, feeling like a trussed pig; but Mother was just satisfied, passing her hands about my waist.

"We have taken you in a few inches my girl," she said "But you still need more. We shall tighten it further in the afternoon; and further yet on the morrow."

I shuddered inwardly; already uncomfortable. Surely this single item of clothing explained much about the frailties of women! Besides, Evelyn herself rarely wore one, and I said so.

"Your sister has these curves naturally, you silly girl" said Mother, steadfastly refusing to refer to me in masculine terms or to use Evelyn's name other than for me. "Besides, even she does the same on formal occasions, as tomorrow shall surely be!"

She took two small balls of wool that she had placed on the bed, and used them to fill out the top of my cotton chemise; held up by the tight corset below. Next around my waist were a pair of bean-shaped bags filled with dry sand, which sat on my hips; slid carefully beneath my underskirt. I turned to sneak a glance at myself in the dressing mirror, and was shocked at the transformation I saw in myself already. There was scarce a trace of my slim, boyish form. My face was delicately feminine: and my body had been leant curves it did not truly possess by the corset and hip bustles under the thin underskirt.

Mother then went to work plucking my eyebrows into delicate arches; a most disagreeable and painful process; but one she assured me was necessary. At last, we took a blue dress, and slid it over my head; Mother pulling it down my body with care. A light blue fabric with much delicate embroidery on the front, the back was criss-crossed by a complex design of matching blue ribbon; this was used to tighten the dress much as the corset had done my very body!

Sat before the mirror again, I could scarce recognise any sign of manliness. Aside from the very faintest bulge at my Adam's apple - and then only when it was carefully sought - there really was nothing, but Mother still found enough to conceal with powder again; pointing out each tiny blemish with a tut. Finally, she moved to my hair, pulling a skullcap over my tight-cropped hair. She stood between me and the mirror as she slipped on the wig she had carefully prepared; pinning it in place with a few long but blunt pins.

The transformation was completed. As Mother moved aside, I realised that all trace of Edward was gone; and in his place was Evelyn, looking prettier and better groomed than my sister ever had. From the top of my lightly-curled blonde locks to the tips of my stocking-clad toes, I was gently groomed and feminine. As I stared at myself, Mother spritzed my neck and wrists with toilet water, and the scent of lavender filled the air. I was beautiful!

I stood and watched myself as I twirled before the mirror; a picture of prettiness without a hint of masculinity. I confess, I fell in love a little with my own reflection as I watched my pretty dress spin out, and my hair bounce with every movement. I laughed softly, feeling a little giddy; and definitely very girlish. The tight corset and soft underclothes left me in no doubt as to my innate femininity, and it left my head in a spin to think of it.

"You look beautiful, Evelyn" said my mother, as gently as I had ever heard her speak. "Now, do you see why I was so confident? You are the image of your sister, albeit I could rarely persuade her to dress so nicely!"

"Yes, Mother" I said, speaking as softly as I could. "You were quite right about everything. I look so pretty!"

"You do indeed, dear. You do indeed. Now, I shall inform Cook that I shall lunch on the verandah with my daughter."

A sudden fear gripped me.

"Don't look so fearful dear," Mother soothed. "I assure you, she will not know you. I spoke with the household servants to inform them that Silas and Edward are taking a few days away to Holmshead; they are expecting the two of us to amuse ourselves in the men's absence. There are only four servants left at present anyway, and you should see little of them"

My brows knotted. But if I, that is Edward, was away with Silas...

"Mother, do you mean for me to take Evelyn's place entirely until she returns?" I asked.

"Evelyn is not away dear - Edward is. Evelyn must remain in her home, with no suggestion of impropriety, until she is safely married. You may not spend time closely with the servants, but they must see Evelyn walking the grounds, breakfasting, and working her embroidery with me."

I stared at Mother. She had said as much, in a roundabout way, but I had not thought it through. Servants talked, after all; and it would surely lead to gossip if Evelyn were to disappear and reappear whenever Mr. Graves were to visit. I suppose that it did make more sense for Edward to travel away with Silas; but that might mean that I take my sister's place for as long as two weeks!

Little did I know...

---

Lunch was a simple fare of cold-cuts, fresh bread and milk; cheese and chutney. Mother spent the whole time correcting my behaviour; I took too much on my plate, had too much meat in all, took bites too large, and didn't hold my tea-cup correctly... There seemed so much to remember!

In the afternoon, Mother took me into the long gallery, where we could practice my walking in private. She taught me to walk more slowly; take shorter more graceful steps; to hold me hands just so. She even balanced a book on my head at one stage, to keep my posture erect. As I walked along the gallery, I looked at the paintings of dour relatives, and wondered if any of the sad-faced women had a secret like mine. Certainly none was as pretty, and few were smiling as I was. For all my mother's firm instruction, I was finding this an entertaining, even slightly arousing diversion.

Eventually, I was practiced enough to be seen outside, and after (as promised) tightening my corset another bone-crushing inch, Mother and I spent the rest of the afternoon walking the grounds sedately; I practicing speaking in my sister's voice, and she instructing me on how to modify my usual behaviour. The evening, after dinner, was taken up learning needlepoint, which I was shockingly bad at, and bridge, which I eventually admitted to my mother I was exceedingly good at. I had learned a number of card games on the long voyages to and from Brazil, and was considered a pretty fair player!

Once it was thoroughly dark outside, it was time for bed; and mother escorted me to Evelyn's - that is, my room. She showed me Evelyn's night gown, and bade me wash off my make-up before undressing, else my skin suffocate by night. I was to reapply it as best I could in the morning, and she would fetch me for breakfast.

After Mother had gone, I lit several candles and stared at myself in the mirror in the warm light. I was such a pretty sight, gazing at the feminine lines of my dress as I reached back to loosen the ribbons holding it tightly bound to me. Shortly, I was able to pull the dress off over my head; my blonde wig fixed strongly enough to stay put even as I did. In my corset and underskirt, I looked all the more pretty, in a most arousing way; and my hands wandered across the front of my sturdy corset. They drifted down to stroke the front of my underskirt, where I could feel my shaft thickening inside Evelyn's fine undershorts.

Stroking myself was intoxicating, and I knew that I had to hold myself. I reached down, pulling my thin underskirt up in handfuls, revealing my legs clad in pale blue stockings. Quickly, the stocking tops came into view, and then the cotton underwear covering my privates. I pushed this garment down with one hand as the other kept my skirt elevated, revealing my staff stirring to life.

He was a vigorous handful, arising from a large patch of curled blonde hair, dangling meatily between my legs, but swiftly engorging into a tumescent state. Thickly he stood as my fingers curled around him, stroking him to full attention in direct contrast to my feminine clothes and demeanor. I gasped as I pumped him, protruding a good couple of inches beyond the fist I had clasped around him

I was a strange but exotic sight as I stimulated myself before the mirror, and my breath quickly grew ragged; my breathing constricted as it was by the tight corset. Nervous shocks shot from my staff into my body, spearing my heart as I jerked back and forth. I groaned aloud as I came, spurting thick white fluid into the palm of my hand. Sobbing, I sank onto the chair and gasped for air. I looked at the reflection of a young man, so aroused by his sister's clothes that he brings himself off in his own hand, and wondered what would become of him.

----

The next morning, I awoke with not a little confusion in my sister's bed and wearing her heavy flannel nightgown. It took some seconds before I recalled the audacity of my mother's plan for me to temporarily pass as my sister so as to secure the engagement of the wealthy Mr. Graves. I had not a few doubts, I must admit; wakening it that strange room, but I resolved to quash them.

I rose, and went to wash my face with the cool water in the jug left from the night before. It seemed odd, somehow, to see my masculine face, bereft of the delicate concealment that had turned me so effectively into a woman the previous day. I worked through the simple applications Mother had taught me before affixing the skullcap and the blonde wig. This construction switched my appearance dramatically for that of Evelyn; and it was with some relief that I examined myself; eventually happy that my appearance was satisfactory.

I slipped off my nightgown, and began to put on my delicates, having aired them overnight. Soon I was clad in soft cottons again, tying blue ribbons around the tops of my stockings. This was how Mother found me, entering without a knock. She looked me up and down.

"Well, Evelyn. You look much refreshed, I am sure. Now, are you ready to make a good impression today?"

"Yes, Mother" I said in Evelyn's soft tones. "I shall do my utmost not to disappoint the family."

She smiled, reaching out to stroke my cheek softly.

"Well and good, darling. We all sacrifice much for the good of the family. Now, I shall help you finish dressing. I sent young Sophie to clean the library rug. She would usually help your sister dress at this time, but I wanted to be sure that you would be... ready to be seen by the servants."

"Am I, Mother? Do you think that they would suspect?" I asked anxiously, examining my girlish face, but boyish body in the mirror.

"Alas, you lack the curves of your sister, and we may do little about that in the sight of the one who dresses you. I am sure Sophie would notice the reduction in your bosom quite swiftly. I must assign her other duties in the mornings, and find one of the younger girls to help you. Perhaps Penny will do," she said, referring to a daughter of one of the gardeners.

I nodded at the thoroughness of her planning as she helped me draw tight the corset I had slipped into. Careful breathing was required, and Mother bracing her knee into my back to pull the corset as tight as Mother wished it, and after tying the cords she marked them with ink from my sister's table.

"There. Penny shall know how far to pull, then. This has certainly brought out a few curves in you. Now, I think your green dress today, and you may wear that cream bonnet later in the sunshine."

Mother helped me into a heavily brocaded dress which covered me from neck to wrists to ankles in deep green velvet. She left out the wool balls; in truth they had accomplished little under the weight of my dress yesterday. Still, the corset gave me an enviably slim waist, and the illusion of a small bosom.

Mother seemed very pleased with the results, and said so.

"I do believe that these clothes suit you far better than your old clothes ever did. You make a very pretty girl, Evelyn."

I couldn't help smiling with pride as we walked down for breakfast.

---

Goodness, the law was a boring subject. Mr. Graves' solicitor had arrived a couple of hours before his master, and Mother and I had spent time with him in the library. Mother and he spoke at length about inheritances, incomes and lands; whilst I strove to make my needlepoint a little less chaotic, with some success I should say.

I had been introduced to the solicitor, and oleaginous man whose eyes darted everywhere; particularly over the paintings hanging around us. He didn't seem all that interested in me, it seemed. Mother and he pored over crackling pieces of paper detailing our current holdings and concerns.

Eventually, after a short luncheon, the arrival of Mr. Graves was announced. I stood, nervously as he entered. Dressed soberly in black, with a deep blue cravat, he stood a few inches taller than I, and was a good deal older (37, I had heard earlier). He had tightly curled black hair, sideburns and moustaches trimmed in the naval style. All in all, he was the very picture of an eligible Georgian gentleman, and quite comely.

Mother introduced him to me, and he bowed slightly.

"A pleasure, Miss Dewheart" he said coolly. "I hope that Mr. Eave hasn't been disturbing your peace with his relentlessly litigious enquiries?"

"No... No, Sir. Although it has been a little hard to follow," I confessed softly.

"Of course. It seems most unseemly to keep you here during our upcoming discussions." he said. He wasn't dismissing me, as it was not his place to do so in our house, but his meaning was clear.

"Of course. Quite so," I said; turning to Mother. "Mama?" I asked softly.

"Why don't you take your embroidery to the garden, Evelyn?"

I nodded, gathering my things and leaving the older adults to talk about the potential match of Mr. Graves and myself. Or rather, I corrected myself, with Evelyn.

---

I was left to my own devices for an hour or so, before Mother came bustling up to me, very excited.

"Things are proceeding most promisingly, Evelyn. Mr. Graves was quite taken with you. He will come in a moment to walk the garden with you; and if he is pleased with you, we may be invited to his estate next weekend - mayhap to sign a wedding contract!"

"Mother, that is excellent news!" I cried.

"Now, be softly spoken darling, walk slowly and admire the flowers. If he asks anything of you, I beg you not to disappoint him!" said Mother.

I nodded to her, not speaking as Mr. Graves appeared through the back door.

"Miss Dewheart. Would you do me the honour of turning about the garden with me?" he asked with politeness, gesturing dramatically to the grounds with an outstretched arm.

I curtsied to him. "Sir. Of course"

He turned to stand beside me, and we sedately descended the three steps down to the grass. We began to walk slowly, admiring the many pretty flowers. He asked me their names which, after my work for the botanists in Brazil, I was easily able to answer. We spoke inconsequentially about the flowers, and the weather as our short walk (the flower garden at Croftworth is not large) reached its end.

Mr. Graves gestured to the wall by the kitchen, enquiring as to the purpose of the door therein. Once I had told him it was the kitchen garden, he was more interested, insisting that we view the much larger garden full of potatoes, carrots, herbs, and suchlike.

"I confess I prefer such a garden to one of flowers," said Mr. Graves almost wistfully. "You get the feeling of such life, such vibrancy amongst plants just bursting with fruits."

"You might admire our glasshouse, Sir" I said. "It has many pleasant fruits and herbs therein, and is pleasantly warm even on a cloudy day."

"By all means," he said "Lead the way".

We walked over to our glasshouse, built against the South wall to catch the sun. Inside were a great many vegetables, grown by my father, God rest him, and maintained by our faithful gardener Smith. I showed him our plants growing a rare treat - love apples, or 'tomatoes' as some call them. He ate one with appreciation.

"I should be of a mind to set up such a garden in my estate at Guildford," he said. "These fruits are most enjoyable. The tomato, the pepper. And what do you call this one?" he asked with an odd smile; taking in his hand the length of a ripe cucumber, dangling from its stalk.

I told him the name, and he laughed.

"Ah yes. I have not tried it myself, but I understand that the esteemed Dr Johnson is not an enthusiast. Has it any uses besides eating?" he asked almost slyly, his hand now grasping the base of the fruit.

I blushed, lowering my eyes. I could well see the resemblance to a male member, though at that point my imagination failed me. I stammered a quiet reply.

"I... I... I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Sir"

He released the fruit and came to cup my chin in his hand. He felt strong and virile, and I so weak and feminine as he turned my chin up to view him.

"Perhaps I see uses we might enjoy, should we ever grow our own," he said with a smile. "I would know if you see them, too."