A Pet's Rebellion Ch. 02

While a working woman could make her own inferior stays, a wealthier woman would usually be measured and have a superior set commissioned. Kristof knew that his new guest had been measured, and that a few sets of stays were being made in Osgarth, but they might not receive the products for a few days. Even then, the stays might have to be adjusted again, to make sure that they fit the wearer properly.

But ... for a woman who was so accustomed to have a snug support device about herself to suddenly endure a great deal of time without such a device ...

Kristof remembered a time when Bethaline had been ill, and a physician recommended regular, long soaks in tubs of medicated water. He had overheard Bethaline complain to a maid about having to go so long without a set of stays keeping her back straight.

"Rina, do any of the maids have a shape similar to Miss Madock's?"

Rina's gray eyebrow rose up. "I believe so, but we both know it's not polite of you to ask such a thing."

There was a thick exhale. Then Kristof's fingers delved into his flowing hair, tugging and playing with the brown locks. "As this woman's current benefactor, I have an interest in her well-being, which means I must ask of certain unmentionables. Politeness can only reach so far." He put one great leg over the other. His breeches made a stretching noise against his thighs. "If I purchased ... shall we say a certain article of clothing, from a maid, could it be altered to fit Miss Madock?"

The housekeeper sighed and rolled her eyes so high that they almost turned backwards. Then she said, "It's possible, I suppose."

"Have it done immediately, then." He put his legs back into a straight position so he could put his book in his lap. "Once a maid has been chosen, I'll give her twice the value for her lost property."

A smooth curtsy, and then Rina said, "Yes, Master."

Kristof's fingers tapped and poked at the cover of his book as Rina left him alone. He wanted to march on into Miss Madock's room and say hello, but he couldn't bring himself to do it at this point. She didn't even have proper underwear. His very manhood was screaming at him to make sure she at least had proper clothing.

And by the following afternoon, Kristof heard that his guest had an old, but altered, set of stays about her. "She doesn't seem very grateful," Rina told him with a sniff. "She still mopes about in her room as if joy itself has been banned."

Well, she didn't even have all her pretty new clothes yet, not even a pair of stockings! Kristof decided that he should continue to wait. It would all be worth it. Miss Madock would be grateful. She came from abject circumstances. She wasn't a noble accustomed to the best. She wasn't a courtesan or other sort of kept woman who often had men paying good money just to hold them. Miss Madock was a woman who knew only the worst, and she'd be extremely happy with him when she received the best.

He was definitely surpassing that absurd Duke Adurant!

So, when a seamstress, a cobbler, and a male stays-maker carrying packages of basic, yet expensive clothing arrived at Castle Bransted a few days later, Kristof demanded that he be the first to inspect the products. There were three fairly plain gowns, but they were sturdy. The first gown was a casual outfit of dark gray cotton with long, fitted sleeves. The second gown was a sturdy outfit with a pattern of brown and green thin stripes. The third was his favorite. It was a gown of pale pink silk. None of these gowns had ribbons, or lace, or anything tedious. There wasn't enough time for something so elaborate to be made.

Kristof wanted the woman dressed as soon as possible. He actually felt a bit of excitement at the thought. He caressed the pretty silken gown's sleeve, as if touching a puppy's floppy ear, but he realized he wasn't thinking as he normally would, and he pulled his fingers away.

He complimented the seamstress on her products, understanding that she had been rushed.

Then he examined the undergarments, even though the seamstress, the stays-maker, the cobbler, Rina, and several maids all blanched at him. Normally, the only time a man was meant to stare at a woman's undergarment was when he was physically making one, usually a set of stays, because setting the baleen into the best stays required a great deal of strength. Of course, baleen was what was used in the two sets of stays Kristof had ordered, and he was pleased to see them.

One was a simple cream color, and the other was a pale green. They felt very nice in his large hands, and there was something of a thrill in simply touching them, knowing they were well made, and didn't have cheap wooden splints or reeds, which would often crack into pieces. His face warmed, and he wasn't certain why. He had seen stays before, had removed several from many pretty women. Still, something about these two sets, with their simple but effective laces, their thoughtful, triangular design, and the fact that Miss Madock would soon be wearing them, all elevated his senses.

He tried to ignore the feelings, putting the stays back into their box and thanking the stays-maker for hurrying for him. Then he looked at the three pairs of stockings, two trendy bum-rolls, and two chemises, which, like the gowns, had been made by the seamstress. Plain? Yes. Ordinary? Of course. Exactly what his guest needed? Certainly. Satisfaction and excitement was yet again nipping at his brain. Kristof tried to shake the feelings out of his head.

Finally, he studied the three pairs of shoes he had ordered. There were two sturdy pairs of boots and a single pair of delicate slippers. He imagined Miss Madock's dainty feet, covered in stockings, sliding into the slippers that he had demanded just for her, and he could have sworn that his cock twitched.

Damn it. This was turning odd.

"They're fine. They're all fine products!" His hands shot up in the air, as if he was giving up on a game. "Go on and fit them over the woman!" He loudly stomped away, leaving behind a group of confused people.

Wait another day.

That was what he told himself.

Wait for the clothing to be properly fitted to the guest.

She'd look so charming.

Meanwhile, Kristof could try and figure out why his mind was so scrambled.

***

Kristof woke up earlier than he normally did, as he had hoped to do.

He washed his face twice. Not once. Twice. Leaves and flower petals had been moderately stirred into the water to give a subtle scent. Tooth powder made of baking soda, peppermint oil, and sage was applied to his teeth with a thin toothbrush.

He purposely chose a shirt with profuse lace cuffs that lightly touched the joints of his fingers and covered his thumbs. He made certain that his cravat was even more luxurious. The waistcoat and matching coat he chose were a gentle, milky brown, with very sparse purple triangles embroidered in playful, seemingly random patterns. His breeches, stockings, and shoes were fresh and lovely.

Kristof put drops of his favorite cologne onto his bare fingertips and shook his hair about. Then he used a rectangular comb with several types of teeth to tidy his hair up. His fingers loosely looped the length of the hair once, and he held it in place with a tight band of purple fabric and a hairpin.

A rectangular mirror with a well carved wooden frame served him well when he studied his reflection for a great deal of time. He used tweezers to tame anything moving out of line in his eyebrows, but there honestly wasn't much for him to pluck. When he was satisfied with his face, he focused on his fingernails to make sure they were clean and trimmed, his scissors at the ready.

Yes.

Kristof was confident that he was handsome and well dressed.

So, when he was strutting his way out of his room, he knew deep in his heart ... and deep in his testicles, that Miss Madock would be completely engulfed in physical and emotional attraction. Physical, because he was handsome. Emotional, because he had given her everything she needed.

When he stood outside Miss Madock's bedroom door, a maid went to him and told him that the guest wasn't inside. With hopeful words, Kristof said, "She's perked up and left her room?"

The maid nodded and said, "The last I saw of her, she was following some of the maids outside."

Kristof's head tilted up a little, and so did one of his great shoulders. It happened to be laundry day. Why would the guest want to go outside? Was she going to look at all the wet clothes?

He left the maid and went outside. It was still fairly early, but he knew that on laundry day, quite a few of the sturdiest maids would wake up very, very, very early. Many of the clothes might already be drying. When he was in the colorful courtyard, he learned that he had to be careful not to step on anything. Several sheets and undergarments were laid out on the grass. Other pieces of clothing were draped over hedges. Some pieces were loosely hung over clotheslines.

A reasonable distance away, tall and sturdy maids tended to great fires that had boiled water in copper cauldrons. There was a well nearby, where extra water could be taken if needed. At times, the women used washing bats to shake about the clothing inside the hot water. Some maids, however, hand-washed colored garments in little pots of colder water. Some maids were starching garments by dipping them into older water that had been used for cooking potatoes.

Kristof's eyes were mostly drawn to the clothes and sheets hanging over the clotheslines. They were like several mismatched curtains, partially concealing the busy maids. In the space between two sheets, He saw and heard a few singing women as they turned the cranks of mangles, pressing out excess moisture from wet fabric.

One of the gowns of the women was different from the others. The maids usually wore bodices of yellow and brown stripes with skirts of a different fabric, typically dark gray or brown. They also wore long aprons and plain, yet charming white caps with simple ribbons. One of the women was wearing a dark gray gown with the fitted sleeves tightly rolled up to her elbows. Kristof spied her little brown boots under the gown's hem.

Miss Madock!

But, what was she doing?

Kristof's eyes narrowed. His guest should be doing something leisurely. Walking around, reading, or something as relaxing as that should be her priority.

His fingers pressed close against themselves, and they slipped between two hanging sheets. He nudged the fabric aside to assess the situation more carefully.

He saw the back of Miss Madock's new gown, saw the way the seams complemented her properly encased back, the way the skirt flared out and hovered over her legs, only stopping to show off her boots, which covered her ankles. His eyes followed the skirt's shape back upwards, to the seams of the bodice, and then up to her nape, which wasn't hidden at all. The woman had tied a dingy white scarf about her head, possibly given to her by a maid. The length of her straight black hair had been pulled under the fabric. Some of it was sticking out from the top of the improvised bandeau, drooping over the side of her head like a wilted flower.

The woman ... the madwoman ... she was actually turning a crank of a mangle as a maid led fabric through it!

There was a bit of sweat trickling down her neck!

"Miss Madock!" His voice was as acute as a finely maintained knife used by the most skilled of cooks.

The nearby maids stopped singing, and they looked up at his voice, but they didn't stop their work. Miss Madock, however, paused and turned around. Her skirt twirled a bit. Then it settled. Her bare hands were lightly pinkened by the drudgery. So were her pretty little cheeks. They were just full enough to suggest that she wasn't starving to death, but hollow enough to put a barely there hint of sharpness to her features. Her expression was a tired one, as if she had recently been drained. There was still bruising around one of her eyes, but it was much less severe.

He hadn't been able to make out which one of the singing voices had been hers, and he almost regretted distracting her. He might have been able to figure it out if he had listened for a few moments.

Kristof's eyes softened at his thoughts, but he held onto his tone. "Why in the world are you working with the maids?"

The unamused, almost dead look in her pretty green eyes didn't change. Kristof noted her lovely eyelashes. They were thick, black, and a little spiky. Even though Miss Madock looked like a disinterested, exhausted cat, her eyes didn't lose their astonishing beauty.

She gave a slow curtsy, and then she said, "Good morning, Your Grace," with a very bored, sleepy tone.

"Answer my question, please." His foot tapped a bit in the grass. His arms folded against his chest.

Miss Madock laced her pretty little fingers together and said, "I wanted to stretch my body and do something productive."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sweetling." He stretched his arm out and put his hand before her, his palm pointed upwards, his fingers straight. "Come with me. Breakfast will be ready soon."

Something in her eyes lit up, but only for a few seconds. Her plump lips parted, but then they closed and tightened. Her adorable nose twitched like a bunny's. A lonely, puppy-like noise came from her throat, but she swallowed the noise down before it could stretch out too long.

Kristof smirked as he remembered that Miss Madock apparently had a fondness for delicious food, a fondness so great that even when she was miserable in bed, she had shown a bit of vigor when the meals came. He wished he had witnessed the events.

Oh well, it didn't matter. He'd watch her eat breakfast soon.

Miss Madock turned a hanging sheet up as she walked under the clothesline, silently refusing to accept Kristof's hand. She paused once she was away from the hanging fabric. Kristof assumed she was waiting on him.

He repeated her actions, turning up a sheet so he could safely go to where she stood. Then he offered his elbow to her. Miss Madock turned her head in a surprisingly uppity way. He frowned.

She should be eager to put her hand on his elbow!

Perhaps she needed another good meal to put her in the proper temper?

Kristof took a calming breath, and then he put on a smile. He led his guest into the keep, down a few hallways, and to the dining hall. It was a large room with arched recesses in the stone walls. The table was far too big for only two people, but Kristof didn't care. He wanted this woman to notice every sign of wealth he could display.

He pulled out a cushioned dining chair for her. The back of the chair had lovingly carved patterns, similar to wirework. He was happy to see Miss Madock sweep down the back of her skirt and sit on the expensive chair, even if she did have a coldness in her eyes.

They were served their breakfast. Each person was given cups of dark coffee. Small dishes of sugar and cream were also displayed. Then they were given their plates of food. Each plate had two small pancakes made with wheat flour drizzled with honey, one thick cylinder of a sausage, and a single poached egg. Kristof grinned as he noticed Miss Madock inhaling the potent aromas of the food. She tried to be subtle about it; he could tell, but her wonderfully bull bosom swelled up with her breath and her black eyelashes fluttered.

As they quietly ate, Kristof took moments to watch his guest slowly cut into her egg, and he saw her lazy smile bloom as her eyes took in the sight of the yellow liquid oozing out of the little white bubble of a thing. Her body leaned this way and that as she chewed and made light murmurs. Her hand made something of a flourish as she swiped her sausage into the egg yolk, as if she wanted to paint a small image onto her plate. She was careful as she sliced her pancakes into rather precise shapes.

At times Miss Madock licked her lips like a hungry cat. It was a lovely thing to see. It had his cheeks burning and his cock swelling and twitching under his drawers. Kristof knew her belly must be warm and full. He couldn't bring himself to speak to her. He didn't want to interrupt her enjoyment. So, the whole meal went by quietly, with only the gentle scraping of utensils against plates and the almost child-like murmurs of the momentarily content guest.

When both of their plates were fairly bare and their cups had no more coffee, Miss Madock actually kicked her chair back a little and stood up. She gave a very serious curtsy, and then she said with lowered eyes and a tender smile, "Thank you, Your Grace, for the fine food. I am humbled by your generosity."

He grinned, putting his fingertips together as his elbows moved to the table. This was what he had been hoping for.

"Go back to your seat, Miss Madock. I'd like to speak to you for a moment."

As two servants came to clean the table, Miss Madock reclaimed her seat, her hands tightly folding in her lap.

Kristof asked, "You had a family once?"

A short nod, and then Miss Madock said as she looked down at her fingers, "Yes, Your Grace."

"Would you please tell me what became of them?"

One of her shoulders jerked up a bit. Her eyelashes seemed to float up and then back down. "I once lived with my parents, my grandparents, and my older sister."

"Were you forced out of your home?"

She shook her head. "My home and my parents burned away."

He blinked at her, lowering his hands, lacing his fingers together. "So luckless. I'm terribly sorry. What sort of people were they?"

She sighed. "My father was an accountant. Every month, he would buy a hair ribbon for me, and he would always try to find a color I didn't have. My mother was a governess, but when she married, she became a part-time seamstress. She educated my sister and I," and here, she paused for a few seconds, and her cheek twitched when she continued, "She eloped with a man some time before the fire. I can't say I know where she is."

"Did your grandparents die in the fire?"

Miss Madock shook her head. "My grandfather died of a weak heart. My grandmother died in her sleep."

"You've certainly endured quite a bit of unhappiness, haven't you?"

"I suppose that's a fair statement." Her lips twitched. "I'm wondering, Your Grace, when I might be permitted to leave. I need to find employment soon, and it seems that there isn't a position for me here."

"Do you believe I'm dishonest?" He leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. "I do have a position for you. I've said as much, haven't I?"

He heard the bottoms of her boots slide against the floor. He saw the lines forming in her brow.

She knew what he wanted.

"A trip to Henrisk might do your mind well," Kristof said, thinking it was a good chance to show her more of the benefits of taking this position.

The drooping bit of her hair swayed as she shook her head. "I don't understand."

"The Social Season has started. Have you ever taken part of it?"

Miss Madock shook her head again. "I haven't, Your Grace. I've only been in Osgarth."

"I'll take you there, then." His nod was serious, but his smile was playful. "You won't have to worry about anything concerning your past, no fires, no losses, no foolish Mr. Kalen. You'll only have whimsy."

"Mr. Kalen?" Miss Madock's head turned towards him. Her mouth seemed fuller as her teeth seemed to peek out from behind her parted lips. "Have you ... have you met him?"

He hadn't really thought about him very much. The man just happened to come to his mind as he listed the problems in Miss Madock's life.

"I did. He should be in a courtroom by now." Kristof shrugged. "Oh, and by the by, I did try to question him, but he panicked and stabbed one of my men. I sent a letter to the courthouse to serve as testimony. I imagine he'll be in a cell eventually." It wasn't a very noteworthy story to tell, not in his mind. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about, because to him it would be like boasting that he chose not to murder an infant. Congratulations and praise weren't appropriate for common decency.