Rebecca of Halstead Hall

At this heartfelt request, Becky knew that she could really not say no, and nodded her acceptance, even though she was not looking forward to wearing that overpowering costume. Her husband got up, came towards and kissed her lightly.

"Thank you, my dear, you have made me so happy. I will instruct Mrs. Sheraton at once, and I will look forward to seeing you tonight."

Becky stayed seated at the table finishing her tea, and not long later, Mrs. Sheraton came rushing in a flurry of skirts. "My Lady, we must hurry and start dressing straight away if we are to be finished in time for dinner tonight!"

"Calm yourself, Mrs. Sheraton, we have plenty of time. It is only eight o'clock."

"My Lady, we have so much to do - the arrangement of your hair in the required style will take at least six hours, your makeup at least another hour, and we should start lacing you now as the dress requires the 'grand corps' stays, which are a lot longer than current stays - three inches smaller in the waist."

"Three inches." thought Becky. "I will die," and out loud with a little stutter, "I will come upstairs when I have finished my breakfast."

Mrs. Sheraton rushed away to start the preparations, and after finishing her tea and with as large a sigh as her current stays would allow her, Becky rose and went upstairs to start a day of what she would guess would be sheer torment. As she entered the dressing room, Mrs. Sheraton was still bustling about, and was not her usual calm and ordered self. Two other housemaids, including Abigail, were also rushing about preparing the clothes; hanging up was the cloth of gold dress which was still beautiful, but did not look that overpowering at present as it was not yet filled with the panniers.

Becky interrupted the proceedings with, "Let us get started, Mrs. Sheraton, if we have so little time."

Mrs. Sheraton signalled to the two maids, who, removed all of Becky's clothes, including the stays; Becky gave a sigh of relief, rubbing her aching ribs. She had to halt while a hip-length shift was passed over her head, and some fine silk clocked stockings, embroidered also with the Halstead crest in black and gold, were smoothed on her legs and tightly gartered. Then Mrs. Sheraton brought over the golden shoes which, to Becky's amazement, had five inch Louis heels.

"Can we not leave them until later, Mrs. Sheraton? I will never be able to walk in them."

"That is the problem, My Lady, I think you need all the practice you can get."

Becky nodded grudging acceptance - the shoes, which were even tighter on her toes than any previous pair, were forced onto her feet and tied tightly across her instep. Becky straightened and and tried to take a step, and swayed alarmingly; Abigail hurried forward to give her support. Becky's small feet were held nearly vertical by the shoes, and her already cramped toes were put under additional pressure from her own weight pressing down on them. With bent legs and Abigail's support, she tried a few tottering steps across the room, wincing each time her weight came down on the toes. After several attempts, with rest in between, she could manage to just about walk unaided, although she was most ungainly and her knees were still bent, as she tried to keep her balance.

Mrs. Sheraton hovered, eager to continue the dressing. In her hands she carried a pair beautifully embroidered stays, but it was not their beauty that held Becky's attention; it was several other attributes. She saw that they were a good deal longer than any of her previous stays, and also higher in the front; the shoulder straps were wider and set at a strange angle, and most imposing was the stays' rigidity. Mrs. Sheraton held them at the side and they did not collapse at all; they were solid, and Becky could see that there was no room at all between the bones at the waist.

"My Lady, we should start lacing you now if we are to have any chance of closing these before this evening - they will take a lot of closing, as these are 'grand corps' stays and are longer and tighter in the waist and rib and more rigid than anything you have tried."

Becky held her arms out, and the stays' shoulder straps were passed over them. She gasped as she felt the weight of them, they were so heavy compared to her 'normal' pairs. Even unlaced, the shoulder straps held her arms pushed backwards. Mrs. Sheraton rapidly threaded the lace and began to tighten the stays.

As she did so, Becky reached down and lifted her breasts and even had to force them up as high as they would go to lift them above the rim of the stays, as they clamped around her upper body. She could feel that they were absolutely solid, and her body would not be able to resist as it enforced its strict cone shape upon her torso. Mrs. Sheraton concentrated on the top of the stays, getting them tight around the ribs, before moving her attention to the bottom. As she had noticed already, these stays were longer than any of her other, and they sat tightly over her hips. Mrs. Sheraton did not try adjust them upwards, and Becky winced as the rigid lower edge of the stays was pulled to her hips, and she could feel it scraping across her pelvis as it tightened. The pain increased, as the stays were forced inwards and could not rise much upwards against initial tightening around Becky's ribs. Mrs. Sheraton noticed her discomfort and tied off the laces to allow Becky to get use to the pressure.

"How much more to go Mrs Sheraton?" wheezed Becky, as she tried to stand tall and to raise her body out of the stays.

"Five inches, I'm afraid, My Lady."

"Five inches!" gasped Becky. "They feel a lot tighter than normal already, and you said that I only required another three inches."

"It is the length, My Lady. Her late Ladyship always had a problem closing these stays as well."

"If Selina had a problem, what chance do I have?" groaned Becky, swaying a little from one side to other, trying to find a comfortable position, but not too far, as any bending caused the pressure of the bottom edge of the stays against her pelvis to become very painful.

"We must start on you hair now, My Lady, we have so much to do before this evening."

The trolley with all the hair fixings was by the dressing table already, overloaded with drapes of false hair. Becky tottered and winced over to beside the low stool and tried to bend; with much creaking and absolutely no give, the stays held her upright and she had no desire to force them, as with the little bend she had managed, the stays dug painfully into her pelvis.

"I am afraid I cannot sit down, Mrs. Sheraton, maybe we should take off the stays while we do the hair."

"We cannot do that My Lady, as we would never close them by tonight - I shall get you a higher stool," she said, turning to the housemaids.

"Abigail, fetch the low steps from the library. Jessie, fetch that high stool from the blue bedroom."

The maids rushed away and were soon back with the articles. The low dressing stool was replaced with a high stool and, even with the high heels, Becky could only just perch her bottom on it, requiring very little bending at the waist, and the steps were placed behind her to allow Mrs. Sheraton enough height to arrange her hair.

She first disassembled Becky's current style, and would have started immediately on the new style had not Becky insisted that it be washed. It had been 'up' for two weeks now, and she had felt itchy for days, using a scratching stick to poke into the hair to relieve the itchiness of her scalp. The washing process took longer than it should, due to Becky not being able to bend at the waist, and the maids had to hold the bowl high and Becky bent her head. When at last the hair was dry again, Mrs. Sheraton resumed with a little 'tut'. Becky did not know what all the fuss was about - it was only a hairstyle and it could not take that long.

Six hours later Becky began to wonder. She was still perched on the stool, and Mrs. Sheraton was still fussing behind her. She had begun by first fitting a much larger padded form than previously which sat on her head; the form was two feet tall, and nearly twice as wide as her head at its highest point. Becky's hair had been divided into hanks, and then passed through holes around the base of the form and pinned tightly to the padding of the form. Becky could feel the skin on her face and head being dragged as the tension increased all round. Mrs. Sheraton moved around the form repeatedly, unpinning a hank and repining it tighter, until she was at last satisfied that the form was held solidly. At this point, Becky was sure that every strand of her hair was now in tension and pulling on her scalp - it was quite painful.

Mrs. Sheraton then took the first of many massive hanks of pomaded false hair and pinned it to the front of the form, and then let it hang down in front Becky's face, reaching well past her waist. Bit by bit, the hank was taken up and over the top of the form, combed flat and attached with many pins. After three hanks had been attached the front of the form was just covered, another two hanks were required to cover each side and then, using a comb dipped in pomade, Mrs. Sheraton moved repeatedly from the side to the front, to the other side, combing the hanks so that they blended together and the whole front became smooth. This operation took over two hours, and Becky was becoming restless, wanting to move her head, as her neck was now aching too, due the heavy weight of the form and all the hair.

"That's enough for the moment, Mrs. Sheraton. I must stand and move my head, this wig is heavy and my stays are rebelling at my seated, or should I say, perched position."

"Very well, My Lady. I will arrange some coffee, and after you have sipped that, we shall need another tightening of yours stays. It must be done in regular easy stages if we are to close them before this evening, without you fainting dead away."

Chapter Six

After the coffee, Becky tottered over in the high heels and grasped the lacing handle, and Mrs. Sheraton untied the knot, recommencing the lacing and tightening the stays slowly from top to bottom and back again. Becky could feel the bottom of the stays digging in painfully to the flesh above her hips, and the her shoulders being dragged back by the backward-set shoulder straps. After the stays had been closed another two inches, Mrs. Sheraton tied them off, and Becky released the handle. She was now at the best waist that she had managed so far, but these stays felt much tighter, as they were so rigid and so long. Viewing herself in the mirror, she could see her now huge and high breasts heaving up and down as she panted for breath. They were lifted so high, nearly level with her shoulders, that a slight ridge was now present at the top of the breasts, the shoulder straps forcing out her chest and, as such, her breasts so that created a huge plateau so that Becky could not see past them to her feet.

Mrs. Sheraton left her until her panting had subsided a bit, and then ushered her back to the dressing stool. Becky winced as she lowered herself onto the stool, the stays digging even more into her pelvis and crushing her waist even more. Her breasts were lifted even higher and started to ache, and her shoulders muscles were on fire as they were pulled back by the straps of the stays.

Mrs. Sheraton immediately busied herself filling the massive two foot two-foot gap at the rear of the hairstyle; slowly starting from the neck, she pinned on hanks of false hair, then curling them around 'rats' (padded sausage shapes of material). After an hour, she had filled the gap with thirteen large curls; she then blended the curls into the main hair. Next came several large spirals of hair that hung down to Becky's shoulders, these formed from more hanks of hair which were heavily pomaded, and then formed around heated curling tongues, of which several pairs were kept warm by a spirit stove.

When the last of the spirals was attached, Mrs. Sheraton pronounced the hair style finished, and helped Becky up. The powder gown was fitted tightly around her, and she was led over to the powder closet; Abigail had brought the high stool, and door was closed behind Becky and Mrs. Sheraton. After half an hour of powdering the massive structure time and again, Mrs. Sheraton was satisfied, and she and Becky left the closet the, air of which was now so thick with powder that it was difficult to breath.

Now Becky was led over to the dressing table, her head now beginning to wobble as the weight of the wig was now becoming irksome, "Mrs. Sheraton I do not think I can hold my head still for much longer, I shall need a rest before we start again."

"That is to be expected, My Lady, and we can provide some support."

She signalled the two maids, who carried over, with some difficulty, a heavily-weighted pole with a strap at the top. Becky had assumed it was some sort of clothes horse, but it was placed behind her, and the large rigid strap was placed around her neck and tightened until it became rigid and the weight of the wig was then transferred to the pole. Mrs. Sheraton then began to decorate the hairstyle with feathers, strings of pearls and, in the front, a large silver reproduction of the Halstead arms.

After this she began on the face paint, and with a thicker-than-usual layer of white lead paint from Becky's forehead all the way down to her breasts, saying that she would fill in the neck when they removed the strap. The her lips, cheeks, and even her nipples, were heavily rouged . Next, instead of painting in the normal high eyebrows, she glued on some black fur eyelids which curled up at the outside.

"They are dyed mouse fur, My Lady," commented Mrs Sheraton.

Patches were then carefully applied to the cheeks and above her lips, her eyelids then painted with a heavy kohl pencil. The whole of her face was then painted with enamel, so that it shone.

"Please do not smile or open your mouth too wide, My Lady, as it will crack."

The neck strap was then removed and the gap covered with the white paint. It was now four-thirty, and Mrs. Sheraton stood back. "I think we had better continue the lacing, My Lady, as time is getting short.

So Becky again submitted to the lacing. Mrs. Sheraton was getting anxious, as time was getting short. Concentrating on the lacing at the bottom of the stays, she quickly pulled them in another inch. Becky could feel her legs going weak and her head spinning. She let go of the handle, and the two maids rushed into support her, Mrs. Sheraton heading quickly over to the dressing table, and returning with some smelling salts; she waved them under Becky's nose, causing her to cough, resulting in even more pain from her stays, but slowly her head stopped spinning, and her legs began to feel less rubbery. The pain at her crushed and compressed waist was enormous, and she began to stagger around the bedroom followed by the two maids, Becky pushing in at the waist with her two hands, leaning one way, and then the other, trying to get some relief. After fifteen minutes, the pain subsided into a throbbing ache and stayed that way as long as she moved carefully - any sudden movements caused the bottom the stays to dig into the hips and the pain to return.

Mrs. Sheraton sent the maids for some brandy and coffee, and allowed Becky to get what rest she could perched on the edge of the stool with her back rigid. The maids returned, and Becky drank some of the coffee and brandy and tried to relax; but all the time her now-massive breasts were heaving, as she panted for what little breath the iron-like stays would allow her.

After an hour had passed, Mrs. Sheraton asked if she was ready for another tightening.

"Just a little more, My Lady, and then we can get you dressed."

Becky stood reluctantly, and tottered over to the handle. The two maids stood in close attendance, as Mrs. Sheraton (less quickly this time) pulled in yet another inch, Becky just about hanging on, but then her legs failed, and she began to see stars. The maids grabbed her, and she was led over to the stool, the smelling salts were used again. After another half an hour, she had calmed herself enough to begin dressing.

They stood Becky in the centre of the room and attached the panniers, which extended over three feet either side of her, and then, standing on chairs, they passed over her head a thick petticoat. As they were smoothing this down and tying it at Becky's waist, there was knock at the door. Mrs. Sheraton went over and opened it slightly and conversed with whomever was outside.

Closing the door, she came back into the room, saying, "His Lordship presents his compliments, and enquires of your progress. He also says that he will be waiting in the gardens when you are ready to join him."

They continued with the dressing with the heavy gold skirt and bodice; next, a twenty foot long train of the same golden cloth lined with white was attached to hooks at her shoulders. After a bit of touching here and there, Mrs. Sheraton was satisfied, and she sent the two maids off on an errand. While they waited, Becky turned slowly (which was all she could manage) to view herself in the full length mirror. She did not recognise image that she saw in the mirror. The panniers were so wide that they reached out past the mirror, and would have been wider than Becky was tall except for the wig. As for the wig, it towered over her head, and her face looked so small in relation, as for her face, it bore little resemblance to her own at all, the paint and the patches so disguising her features. Further down, her breasts rose high, nearly to her neck, and the rouge on her nipples could just be seen above the shining gold bodice and down to her now-minute waist, which looked even more tiny against the spread of the skirt. It looked so small, that Becky was convinced, if she fell off the high heels, she would snap in the middle.

"Now, My Lady, we must get you covered for the garden."

The two maids returned, carrying a mass of deep black velvet material which was, when held out, Becky saw was a cloak with the usual, but in this case much bigger, structured hood to cover her hair.

"Mrs. Sheraton, I cannot go out to the garden - my train would drag in the dirt."

"We can soon fix that, My Lady."

With that, Mrs. Sheraton stepped behind Becky and folded the train up to her shoulders, hanging the fold onto the hooks at her shoulders with loops hidden in the train. After three folds, the train was off the floor, and Becky's knees were wobbling again, this time under the increased weight of the heavy cloth of the gold train. Mrs. Sheraton then produced a pair of gold patens, which were fully six inches high and, with maids supporting Becky's arms, she bent down and, one after the other, she fitted them to Becky's shoes, giving Becky an increased height, with the shoes, the patens and wig, of nearly three feet.

The cloak was then carefully passed around the dress and the wig, and closed around Becky's face. Mrs. Sheraton then reached up to close the veil, and then hesitated. "I have forgotten the plumpers."

She went over to the dressing table and returned with two flattened and rounded pieces of cork.

"Open you mouth a little, My Lady, these will plump up and give you lovely rounded cheeks."

Becky opened her mouth and the two pieces of cork were pushed into her cheek pockets, forcing her cheeks out a little.

Becky tried to protest at the invaders in her mouth, but found it nearly impossible to talk with the 'plumpers' in her mouth and words came out as more like a cough. Mrs. Sheraton then pulled the veil across the front of the wig and Becky's face; it was so thick that she could only just make Mrs. Sheraton and the maids.

With the aid of the two maids, Becky made a slow unstable progress on the patens out of the bedroom and down the stairs, Becky slowly putting one patened foot in front of the other.