Rebecca of Halstead Hall

Mrs. Sheraton then stood on stool and, aided by Abigail, carefully dropped a heavy taffeta petticoat over her head and down onto the panniers where it was tied at the waist. Next came a floral silk overskirt, then the matching bodice, feed the sleeves over Becky's arms, pulling it tight around her shoulders and torso. Picking up another lace, dyed to match the bodice, Mrs. Sheraton then laced it closed.

"There Miss, all finished, and not too bad at all, considering I have not had any practice for so many years."

Becky was not so sure - she had never been encumbered with this amount of cloth before. Viewing herself in the mirror, she now seemed to take up so much space with panniers and the high-piled hair; the only thing that was smaller was her waist, which now looked minute in comparison to the massive spread of her inflated false hips over the panniers. She turned and viewed herself from behind, and was a little dismayed to see that the bodice was still an inch from closing at her waist.

"Do not worry about that, Miss - a few days and we shall soon have it closed and here is a shawl to cover it in the meantime."

Becky was very sure that she did not want it closed; another inch would be just to much, and how long had this simple costume taken? She looked at the clock: four hours - they had started soon after breakfast, and now it was nearly lunchtime.

"I have not time for walk before lunch, I will stay inside and take my lunch in my drawing room and go for a walk this afternoon."

Mrs. Sheraton nodded assent, and she and Abigail curtsied and left. Becky walked slowly, feeling distinctly unsure on her new heels, out of the dressing room, through her bedroom, and into her drawing room. Walking over to her favourite low chair, she turned and slowly lowered herself into the chair. As she got lower, tottering slightly on the new heels, the pain at her waist from the stays became unbearable, long before she reached the seat of the chair. She straightened rapidly, and, instead, chose a far higher dining chair to sit on. The pain now became bearable, but she found she had to sit with her back absolutely straight to ease the pain at the waist, and her shoulders, and back, to stop the rim of the stays digging into her breasts. In this position she could only read by holding the book high in front of her. After a while, the stays of the corset made her rise again; also, when seated, the tight garters seemed to get tighter, biting further into her thighs. Standing was not much better, as the high-heeled shoes felt far too tight and cramped her toes. She was glad when a maid bought her lunch.

After lunch, donning a pair of gloves, she went downstairs to go out for a walk, only to find Mrs. Sheraton waiting in the hall, holding instead of Becky's normal light cape, another mass of material.

"I don't want to wear that, Mrs. Sheraton, I am only going for a walk in the gardens, not to the opera. I will wear my usual cape."

"I am afraid, My Lady, that your hair arrangement would be disturbed by your old cape, and, also, it would not cover your dress and protect the material."

Mrs. Sheraton proffered the cape, with an air of dominance, and Becky realised that against such arguments she should wear it. The cape was heavy and stiff and opened as if it were hinged, it was fitted around her shoulders and fell with vast expanse of cloth over the panniers to the floor, and Becky was surprised when the hood stood stiff away from her head and went well forward in front of her face, making sideways sight impossible.

Mrs. Sheraton, noticing her expression, said, "The hood is stiffened, so that it does not lie on your hair, and now, miss, you will be needing your pattens."

Becky had no idea what she was talking about, as Mrs Sheraton held up a pair of what looked like cloth covered sandals, except they had four inch soles also cloth covered. The soles must have been hollow, as Mrs. Sheraton held them so lightly.

"What are those for?" she asked.

"They go over yours to raise you up, to keep your shoes clean and to stop your skirt and cape from dragging in the mud, My Lady."

"But I cannot walk in those, they are much too high - I will fall."

"They are the lowest available, My Lady, but I am sure you will be able to manage with a cane and the arm of the maid Abigail to support you."

Mrs. Sheraton then bent, and reaching under Becky's dress, lifted one ankle, Becky feel something being attached to her foot, over her shoe.

"Your other foot, please, My Lady." Becky put her raised foot down and found that it was now four inches higher; she felt very unsteady, and leaned on Mrs. Sheraton's shoulder for support.

Mrs. Sheraton then fastened the ties on the cape, which ran from floor to chin. The ties were spaced every six inches, enclosing Becky in yet another layer of cloth. When she was finished, Becky resigned to her fate, reached through the small hand holes in the thick material, out for the cane that Mrs. Sheraton was holding.

"One more thing, My Lady, we must close your veil - we do not want the wind ruining your face or your hair arrangement."

And she reached up and pull a cord at the side of the hood, a heavy veil falling across the hood, and thus Becky's face and chin; Becky could hardly see, it was so thick. Mrs. Sheraton passed her the cane and signalled Abigail, and she ran over quickly. Becky saw she was wearing a light house dress, a pair of stout shoes, a simple bonnet and a short cape. Becky already envied her, her freedom, as the weight of the cape, and the enclosed feeling of the high bonnet and veil was already making her feel dispirited. She was not looking forward to this walk at all.

Abigail took her arm, and Becky began to walk, the thick pattens feeling very strange under the high-heeled shoes; Becky found the only way to walk was flat footed. She went through the front door and came to the steps in front, finding she had no feeling of where the edge of the steps were, her legs totally hidden by the mass of material surrounding, the protruding hood and the thick veil. Abigail eased her down the steps, and they walked in the gardens.

That evening at dinner, Becky was at least very satisfied with the attentiveness of her husband - he could not seem to stop complimenting on her appearance and how happy it made him. He was approving of her hair arrangement, her dress, her tiny waist, and her shoes. Becky was quite flushed with this attention and see her husband happy made her happy. Although she did not feel comfortable all evening, as the nagging pain of the stays at her waist increased, and the dull ache constantly reminded of their tightness around her ribs. She would be glad to go to bed and be released of them.

Chapter Four

At ten o'clock they retired upstairs, his lordship intimating that he may visit her later in her bedroom. Mrs. Sheraton was waiting, stand by the dressing table.

"I will help you prepare for bed, My Lady," indicating that she should sit down.

Becky assumed that she was going to take her down and remove the paint, and sat down. Mrs. Sheraton busied herself at the back of the hair style, but only unpinned one roll. She then picked up a large basket affair which, Becky realised was a high rigid hood.

"Mrs. Sheraton, what are you doing with that?"

"This is a nightcap, My lady, to protect your hair arrangement while you sleep."

"Can we not just comb it out?"

"I am afraid not My Lady, as now the pomade has set, and it would take even longer tomorrow morning than it took this morning to redo your hair."

Becky was going out with Lord Halstead first thing in the morning and she knew he would not appreciate it if she took until eleven o'clock to be ready, and so she nodded her assent. The hood was deep necked and fitted down to her shoulders, covering her hair style with space to spare all round, and protruding well in front; in the back of the hood was a spike that Mrs. Sheraton drove deeply into the pad which supported the hairstyle through the hole left by the removed roll of hair, She then came to the front and tightened the laces of the high stiff collar right up to her chin, so that Becky's head and neck were held immobile and she unable to move her head, and, as such, her hairstyle within the 'nightcap'.

Mrs. Sheraton took her arm and helped her up and then started to remove the dress, the petticoats and then the shoes. Becky became impatient - she wanted rid herself of the stays.

"Mrs. Sheraton, the stays if you please."

"Yes, My Lady, at once." But instead of the stays loosening, Becky felt Mrs. Sheraton tug the laces and tighten them up.

"Mrs. Sheraton, I want them looser and off, not tighter."

"But, My Lady, you must keep your stays on and tight at all times if you wish to get a small enough waist to wear the finer dresses. The lace has slackened over the day and I am just tightening it back up, If you release them at night we will lose all the ground we make in the day and your waist will return to its original size. Becky was prepared to argue with this, but her husband had been hinting very strongly that he was dying to see Becky in some of the more decorative dresses as soon as it was possible, and she grudgingly had to agree with Mrs. Sheraton's argument. Although how she was going to sleep in the tight stays along with the rigid bonnet, she did not know.

Mrs. Sheraton helped her on with a voluminous night gown and escorted Becky over to the bed. The pillows of the bed had been laid flat so that there were two in a row; Becky could only look down to see the pillows by bending at the waist against the pressure of the stays, as the 'nightcap' did not allow her to bend her neck at all. Feeling very unwieldy and stiff in the nightcap and stays, she lay down and tried to sleep.

Sleep did not come, as the stays she had been wearing all day continued their nagging pressure at her waist and rubbing at her ribs. The 'nightcap' held her neck rigid at an unnatural angle and forced her to try and sleep on her back which she never did, preferring the side.

It was not long after, as she lay trying to sleep, when her husband joined her. She found that she could not look up at him, as the 'nightcap' kept her head held down and the stays seemed to cramp her stomach muscles and would not let her sit up from the waist.

Her husband did not seem to mind, concentrating on the reason for his visit, whilst also seeming to take an inordinate amount of interest in her constricted waist, stroking it and grasping it with both hands, seemingly trying to make it smaller; such pressure Becky could feel, even through the whalebone and buckram of the stays.

Nothing was said the next morning, except that, in the carriage on the way to visit to some of Lord Halstead old friends, he commented that her plain dress was not really suitable and he would be glad when she was able to wear some the more decorative costumes.

Left to herself the next day, Becky decided to go riding, thinking that she would be rid of the stays, and the hairstyle would have to be taken down. Mrs. Sheraton nodded with indication of her feelings towards the request and left to prepare the riding costume. When Becky came upstairs, she was waiting with riding costume laid out on the bed. She first removed Becky's dress, and with a sigh of relief from Becky, the stays, which had now not been off for three days. To Becky's consternation, she then produced another pair of stays.

"These are your riding stays, My Lady, they are lighter and shorter than those (indicating the previous stays), but I am afraid that to fit into the riding habit we will have to lace you an inch tighter."

Becky swore under her breath, "There are no panniers, are there?"

"No, My lady, no panniers."

"Becky thought, "Thank goodness for that..."

"Just a bum roll, My Lady, to hold the skirt out a little."

Becky wondered what a 'bum roll' was and did not dare to ask.

Becky manoeuvred her arms into the stays, which were indeed shorter than the 'normal' pair, and would, she realised, not push down on her hips so much, therefore allowing her to bend forward slightly at the waist to allow her to 'sit' on her horse in the side saddle position.

Mrs. Sheraton adjusted the the stays in position and quickly threaded the lace, and started tightening. She rapidly secured them up to the tightness of the 'normal' pair, and as they got tighter, Becky felt the extra inch reduced from her waist, and started gasping for air, as she had done on the first tightening. She considered whether this extra discomfort worth it for the freedom of the horse ride.

Mrs. Sheraton tied the laces off; next came a shirt with a high stiff collar, and over this was fitted what Becky deduced to be the 'bum roll', a sausage-shaped cushion about five inches in diameter, which was wrapped around her 'stayed ' waist and tied at the back. The long brown skirt came next next, ("Over-long," thought Becky). Yes, it was supposed to be over-long on one side to cover her stirrup leg on the horse, and was held up by loop when walking, but on the horse side the skirt should on come down to her boot tip, and this one lay on the floor for a good three inches.

"Mrs. Sheraton, I think this skirt is too long for me, don't you?"

"Oh no, My Lady, not when worn with the correct riding boots," indicating some brown boots standing by the wardrobe, "and they need to be that height so that this (indicating the shorter side of the habit skirt) does not drag in the mud when you walk to the stable yard."

Becky groaned as she saw that the 'riding boots' had a four inch heel. "Oh well," she thought, "It won't matter when I am mounted." The jacket was next, with no surprises, as it fitted easily and was closed at the front with three buttons. Mrs. Sheraton stood on a stool and passed a black veil all around Becky's hair and pinned it tightly through to the hair support pad; the lower part was then tucked down into the collar of the shirt (Becky could have guessed that a veil would be required to protect her 'hairstyle'). The stock was another matter: Mrs. Sheraton approached Becky with at least ten feet of five-inch-wide silk stock and proceeded to wrap it tightly around Becky neck and high under her chin. The amount of material forced her chin up, and left her neck nearly rigid; it also pulled the lower part of the veil tight to her face.

Mrs. Sheraton tied off, then pinned the front of the stock with a large pin; then she attached a rather strange hat. From the front, it looked like a high crowned riding hat, but it had no depth, and the brim narrowed and ran all the way to the crown. It was pinned with several pins to the front of the hairstyle, and the crown pointed out slightly, giving the look that Becky was leaning forward slightly. Becky thought she looked a little ridiculous and was beginning to get frustrated, all this fuss just to go riding.

The boots were then bought forward and had to be forced onto Becky's legs and feet. Becky held her leg in the air, and Mrs. Sheraton had to push with all her weight, they were so tight; eventually, with a lot of effort from both parties, they were on. Becky was now rather flushed and feeling red under the high stock and veil, eager to be off. She stood up and immediately grabbed Mrs. Sheraton for support, as the heels would not let her stand up straight. She bent her knees, and, with some difficulty, stretched her calves and pointed her ankles until she could straighten. She was nearly on tiptoe.

"I do not feel safe walking, let alone riding in these stilts. What if I am thrown and the heel traps in the stirrup?" thought Becky." She would try them once to see how she got on."

With Mrs. Sheraton's support she walked ungainly downstairs and out to the stable yard, holding up her skirt in the other hand. In the yard she mounted her usual horse and feeling the stays dig in as she twisted her trunk into the side saddle position; the high heel of the boot sat in the single stirrup at a strange angle, and did not feel as if it would give much support. Becky unhappily rode away on her usual circuit, the overly tight stays digging into her sides with every bounce of the horse.

Chapter Five

After this ride, she decided that the only real pleasure left to her was not to be ruined, do she ordered that the riding habit buttons were to be let out by two inches and the skirt taken up by four inches so that she could go back to her old riding boots. Becky felt this was a small victory, but otherwise the clothing regime was intensified as the weeks went by. At the end of the first week, Mrs. Sheraton took down the hairstyle; Becky was rather pleased, as it had begun to itch, before Mrs. Sheraton erected a new one. Becky insisted that it be washed - Mrs. Sheraton looked slightly bemused, but acceded with just a "Yes, My Lady."

When Becky's hair had been washed and dried, Mrs. Sheraton erected the next structure. The procedure was similar to the first, except that the padded form was now eight inches high and a lot wider at the top. Becky's hair was not not long enough to cover the form on its own, and so a long false front fringe was added to Becky's own and pinned to the form; then both lots of hair were pomaded and combed up over the front and sides of the form - the back was filled in with curls, with extra false ones to make up the shortfall. As Becky's hair and the false hair did not match in the slightest, Mrs. Sheraton said that it would need to be powdered. Becky was led into a small cupboard off the dressing room and sat down. Her dress and shoulders were fully covered by a light white cape/sheet, and she was given a hand-held mask to cover her face. The door was then closed and a white flour/powder was shaken out from a funnel- type device, engulfing the whole room with powder, so that Becky's hair arrangement was heavily coated, the powder landing and sticking to the pomade.

When the hair arrangement was finished and Becky viewed herself in the mirror, she was shocked to see her resemblance to the portraits downstairs of Selina, her lordship's late wife.

While she saw the this similarity, in her young eyes, she also thought the hair looked ridiculous by current fashions; the high-piled stark white hair was now twice as high as her head and dominated the the reflection in the mirror. The weight of the larger pad and extra false hair and now become very noticeable, and she had to turn her head slowly as a result.

Other changes to her costume continued. As Lord Halstead had asked, Becky submitted to her waist to being reduced another inch, thus allowing her to get into to an afternoon dress; but not, as Mrs. Halstead pointed out, one of the formal ones, which would require a further inch. The change of style also required wider panniers and some the dresses she wore had those that extended two and half feet to either side, and thus more care was required when manoeuvring through doors and past furniture. The height of the heels increased from two to three inches; she found these most irksome, as the shoes did not seem to fit the foot any more, they just elevated at the heel and threw her forward, so that she must be on her guard at at time to stop herself pitching over.

Lord Halstead was always most happy about every progression towards the most formal dresses, and never ceased complimenting at every available opportunity, making all the discomfort seem to be a little worthwhile in only that she was pleasing her husband.

One morning at breakfast, Lord Halstead coughed and then said. "Rebecca, my dear, today is, or should I say was, a special day for me, as it my and my late wife's wedding anniversary," Becky looked at him closely, "and ... it occurred to me last night that, as you are progressing so well on the dress front, it would be rather nice, if we could celebrate this day by you wearing the gold dress shown in the portrait in the hall. I have spoken to Mrs. Sheraton and the dress is still in good condition; I would dearly like you to wear it tonight."