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Guising

by miss circe

Lizzie didn’t even think. The promise of shelter and money would be a success on any night, never mind a night such as this. She hiked up her skirts and climbed into the dark carriage, closing the door behind her.

There was a flash of steel in the dark.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: When I was little, growing up in Scotland, we called Trick or Treating “Guising.” I’m not sure it fits for the story, but I’ve always liked the triple pun, so there!

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Lizzie crouched in the narrow doorway, hiding from the heavy rain. She rubbed her bare arms and stuck her head out from under the awning, glancing this way and that up the cobbled alleyway. The gas lamps spluttered and flickered in the wet night and the pools of light they created only helped make the alley even less appealing.

There were no tricks in this weather. The other girls had gone back, figuring that a slap and a row were better than to be soaked through. Lizzie had less choice – she had a bigger debt to pay. She pulled the lacy sleeve of the heavy sodden dress down over the worst of her scars.

“Sod this,” she thought to herself, and made a break for it, picking up her skirts and running as quick as she dared over the uneven cobbles towards the theatre district. She reached the end of the alley and stopped abruptly as she almost collided with a battered black carriage.

“Watch it!” she yelled at the driver, who didn’t even turn in her direction. “Someone could get killed.”

A gloved hand drew back a thick velvet curtain inside the carriage and produced a shilling with a flourish. Hesitantly, Lizzie reached out and took it with a slight bob and curtsey.

“Thank you sir,” she said.

“Why don’t you come in from the rain?” The voice emanated from inside the carriage as the door sprung open and a set of metal steps clicked into place.

Lizzie didn’t even think. The promise of shelter and money would be a success on any night, never mind a night such as this. She hiked up her skirts and climbed into the dark carriage, closing the door behind her.

There was a flash of steel in the dark.

* * * * *
“Good morning!”

Lady Vivien Bracknell swept into the room with a flourish, tugging back the heavy velvet curtains and bathing the room in the pale autumn light of morning. There was a heavy groan from the bed, and the frantic shifting of bedclothes.

“Come now Giles, you should be up and about.” The formidable woman grabbed the top of the sheet and pulled forcefully downwards, revealing her young, and very naked, son.

“Mother, do you mind?” he asked, scrabbling to cover himself - the warmth and comfort of sleep forgotten.

“Darling, there is nothing about you that is a surprise to me. I have seen it all,” she replied, throwing a linen shirt towards him. “Now get up and dressed. We’re having guests at lunch, and I’d like you to look your best.”

Giles took the shirt and tugged it over his head as he swung his bare legs out of the bed. He reached under the bed frame and took out a porcelain pot.

“More men who served with father, here to pay their respects no doubt,” he said, as he began urinating.

“Actually no. Miss Emma...”

“Oh God, this tiresome party!”

“Miss Emma,” she continued, louder, “is coming to help us plan this Hallowe’en party you wanted.”

“You wanted.”

“Darling, we have had a party for Hallowe’en since you were a child. I see no sense stopping now. It will be nice to see people socially for a change.” His mother snatched the pot away from him when he had finished and turned to leave. “Miss Emma is a nice young lady, and you should be more agreeable to her. I’ll give this to the Tanners."

Giles sat and watched his mother leave, and the door close behind her voluminous skirts. He sighed, pulling on his trousers and tucking the shirt into them.

* * * * *

Mr. Crouch worked by candlelight, the heavy smells of lime and urine in the air. The body under his fingers was still warm from the water bath, but shapeless – having been pulverised just hours before. He worked methodically, kneading the skin in the putrid solution. It felt soft and yielding under his fingers.

Satisfied, he gathered the hide in his hands and removed it from the copper bath, moving over to a large table, and splaying the skin out before rubbing it with cedar oil. Mr Crouch was an expert – the skin had no tears and was not stretched. It felt soft and would tan well.

“Mr. Crouch,” a voice called from the darkness. “How are we proceeding?”

The old tanner looked up into the shadows, his hands automatically continuing to massage the oil into the pale hairless skin.

“Just need to stretch her overnight and she’s yours.”

“Excellent,” the voice replied, appraising the old man’s work. “Absolutely excellent.” A small velvet bag of coin was dropped noisily onto the table as the stranger walked off into the night.

* * * * *

“Well, it absolutely must be a masquerade!”

Giles gazed at the young poppet sitting across from him as she gushed enthusiastically. Emma Woodhouse was definitely pretty – of that there was no doubt. Her large eyes, small up-turned nose and pouting lips gave her face both a girlishness and an aristocratic look that was very appealing. Her complexion was almost white, and she wore very little makeup – much to the envy of other girls within her social circle. Her crowning feature, Giles thought, were the voluminous curls of strawberry blond hair that framed her face, and bounced as she talked excitedly.

He smiled to himself for a moment as he realised she had dressed for him. She was wearing a green and white dress that he had commented favourably on previously, but was obviously too light for the autumn season. He had liked it as it gave a singularly good view of her generous bosom – Emma usually preferring less daring necklines.

“What do you think, Giles?” Lady Bracknell asked, her voice emphasized to pull him out of his character study.

“Yes, of course,” he agreed, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to.

“An animal theme it is,” Emma pronounced, happily clapping her dainty hands together.

“Oh, good,” Giles agreed weakly.

There was an awkward silence, broken by the distant church bells tolling the hour.

“If that’s everything for now,” Emma said standing up and straightening her skirts, “I really should go. I have a pianoforte lesson.”

“Darling, thank you so much. You are a dear. Isn’t she, Giles?”

“Yes. Dear,” he smiled weakly.

Lady Bracknell pulled the slip of a girl into a hug. “Don’t mind him, he got out on the wrong side of bed. He’s very pleased to see you,” she whispered.

Giles offered the girl his arm and escorted her towards the door.

“Are you looking forward to the party?” Emma asked.

Giles thought for a moment. “Yes, actually. Yes I am. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied, taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm. “Is there any animal you would like me to come as?”

Giles smiled as they walked, lost in thought until he reached the door. “Emma, I’m sure you will be delightful whatever animal you are. However, you would be an especially lovely rabbit.”

“A rabbit?” she asked in mock shock. “Why, maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” she said in a whisper, “we could be rabbits together!”

“Maybe so.” Giles kissed her hand and opened the door. “Give my best to your brother,” he added as the girl left with a smile on her face.

* * * * *

Mr. Slant worked by daylight, maximizing the dull autumn light through his large shop windows. His fingers were nimble as he sewed, attaching the stiff fabric to the rigid steel stays. It was a curious order, to be sure, but he was used to the unusual, and this was not the first time for this particular customer.

The corset was almost complete, and Mr. Slant was pleased with his work. The steel curved and swept in an impressive hourglass figure from just under the bust to well below the waist. But it was the thickness that he was most pleased with – the steel struts were slimmer than usual, but more numerous. However, the garment didn’t end there. Unusually, it sat much higher on the chest, with two circular holes where the breasts would lie. At the base it included two thin steel suspenders, which led to a band to encircle each thigh. Around the outside of this band, and the circle surrounding the bust, eyelets had been added.

It had been an interesting project, and different from the usual standard fare. He had also been paid very handsomely for his trouble.

* * * * *

Emma sat in her chambers, brushing her hair as she counted to one hundred. The green and white dress of earlier had been cast off, and lay in a neglected puddle on the floor, the hated corset on top of it, her white stockings on top of that. She had felt so silly wearing the dress, but so sure that Giles liked it. Liked looking at her bosom, she corrected herself.

Sixty-three. Sixty-four. She was really not sure about Giles. He was such a handsome boy, but so maddening. So changeable: Flirty and sweet one minute, cold and distant the next. A rabbit though! That would be fun. She would get some darling ears made, and a little pom-pom tail for her bottom. She wriggled her nose excitedly.

“Twenty-three, Forty-five, Eleven.” A voice called from her doorway.

Exasperated, Emma slammed the brush down on the dressing table. “Robert, you really are a pig.”

“It always surprises me, dear sister, that you can count that high.” Robert Woodhouse strode confidently into his sister's room, his eyes flickering down to the pile of clothes on the floor. “And so tidy.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Emma replied, returning to the mirror and her brushing. “Giles Bracknell was asking after you today. Do you owe him money?”

“Giles, no, not that I know of. Where did you see Giles?” he asked, sitting down lightly on her perfumed bed.

“I was there, today. Helping with their Hallowe’en party. Will you come, or do you have dark deeds to attend to?”

“Dark deeds I’m sure,” he said absently, tilting his head. “Oh no, I’ll be there. What’s the theme?”

“Animals!” Emma said delightedly, swivelling on her chair to face her brother. “I’m going as a rabbit.”

“Not a dog?” he asked with a smirk.

“You should go as a pig. Or a snake.” Emma replied, sticking her tongue out.

“Maybe so.”

“Do come though, I know he’d love to see you. You were so close before.” Emma stood, fussing with her nightgown. “You never know, you may be brothers in law before long.”

“Maybe so,” he repeated, standing and stepping back from the bed with a grand gesture.

“We need to find you a girl so you can pester her when you can no longer pester me. Although,” she added, pulling back the covers and swinging in to the warmed bed, “I don’t know of anyone who would take you.”

“Oh, I’ve got a girl. Didn’t I say?”

“You do? Who is she?” Excitedly, Emma sat up in the bed. “You must tell me everything immediately!”

“Her name’s Elizabeth. We met at the Gray’s party last month. If you must know.”

“What’s she like? Is she pretty?”

“She’s handsome. Slender. Dark. I suppose…”

“You suppose! Your romance skills are lacking. I’m sure she’s a poppet.” Emma playfully swiped her brother. “Bring her to the party! Giles won’t mind I’m sure. I can meet her then.”

“Well… I was going to suggest you could meet her and choose a party outfit together. If you like?"

“Oh Robert, I’d love to. Wonderful.” Emma clapped her hands together. “What about tomorrow? No. Thursday! In the afternoon. Can she meet me in the Ivy at eleven?”

“I’m sure she can,” Robert said. “I’ll let you know. Be nice to her Em. I don’t want her thinking badly of this family.”

“I promise,” she replied, lying back down and closing her eyes. “That’s wonderful Robert, it's taken so long.”

“Yes,” Robert said, pausing on his way out to pick up the discarded stockings and stuff them down the front of his trousers. “Yes it has.”

* * * * *

The Ivy was bustling when Emma arrived. She smiled breathlessly as she entered, unfastening the top button of her coat as she walked towards the maître d'.

“Miss Emma,” he began, bowing his head a little, “how lovely to see you again.”

“And you. I believe my brother’s ladyfriend is meeting me here, when she arrives can you show her to my table.”

“Oh, she is already here,” he replied, turning and gesturing at a small table in the centre of the restaurant.

The girl at the table was definitely nervous. Her long black hair was covering her face as she sat, hunched over her tea. Her clothes too were very conservative – her dress, Emma could see, was a dark brown and covered the girl from the throat to the ankle. Excellent, Emma thought. A project.

“Hello,” Emma said brightly. “You must be Elizabeth!”

The girl looked up, smiled and stood, smoothing down the front of her dress awkwardly. “Hello,” she said in a small voice, “Emma.”

“It’s lovely to meet you. Robert has told me almost nothing about you,” Emma joked as she sat, flashing the girl another winning smile. “I love your dress.”

“Thank you. You too, you’re so very pretty,” the girl replied, causing Emma to blush.

She was pretty, Emma decided, but so very pale – almost white. Her skin looked very soft. Emma had to fight the urge to reach out to touch her. She wore makeup, but only around the eyes, her lips and some rouge to give her cheeks colour. Emma was sure that they had met before, but had no idea where.

“Well,” she said, sitting back in her seat. “Have you any ideas what animal you want to be for the Hallowe’en party?”

“Animal?” the girl asked. “Robert didn’t say there was a theme.”

“My brother is pathologically useless. Yes, it's animals. I’m going as a rabbit with floppy ears, a tail and a twitchy nose.” Emma wriggled her nose to demonstrate, causing Elizabeth to smile. “Ah, there it is. What a pretty smile.”

“Thank you,” the girl replied, crawling back into her shell.

“Oh don’t hide away,” Emma encouraged, reaching out her hand and brushing Elizabeth’s hair behind her ear. “See, that’s better. I think you’d make a delightful cat. Robert would just want to stroke your hair all night long.”

“Do you think so?”

“Absolutely. He used to brush my hair for me when we were smaller.”

“Really?” Elizabeth stifled a giggle.

“Oh Yes. Actually,” she leaned in closer, “when he was very little I used to dress him in my things. He was quite adorable!”

“That’s so sweet,” Emma giggled.

“It was very darling. So, let’s go. I have the perfect place for you to get a mask.”

* * * * *

The shop bell tinkled as the two women entered, talking to each other as though fast friends. The boutique was one of Emma’s favourites, carrying all the latest French fashions to London. Elizabeth stood timidly at the door, while Emma unbuttoned her coat and confidently draped it on the chaise next to the door.

“Come on,” Emma smiled at her new friend. “What’s a party without a new dress?”

Elizabeth smiled sheepishly, and too took off her coat.

“Ladies, how nice to see you!” Peeping from behind the curtain at the back of the shop, a large man with a moustache emerged, his hands outstretched wide. “Miss Emma, you look divine. Who is your friend?”

“Oscar, this is Elizabeth. My brother’s new lady friend.”

“Oh?” Oscar arched one eyebrow. “Really? Well, I never. Charmed, I’m sure,” he said, extending one hand limply. “And what can I do for such lovely ladies? Something mineral perhaps? Vegetable? Or… animal?”

“Oh Oscar, you know fine why we are here. We’d like dresses for the party. Elizabeth is going to be a glamorous pussycat, and I will be a little rabbit.”

“A fox!” Elizabeth cried, smiling. “You should be a fox!”

“Oh no darling, Giles and I are to be rabbits together.”

“No, but, if you surprise him as a fox that will be the talk of the party!”

Emma was about to argue back, but stopped. Her new friend was right, what a wonderful idea. She would surprise Giles as a fox. “Yes, Oscar, a fox. How wonderful.”

The ladies were both taken into the back room, where they sat with Oscar and discussed fabrics and patterns over tea. Brilliant orange and white for Emma, black for Elizabeth. Oscar even had a fox-fur tail that he would attach to the bustle of Emma’s dress for her. Once they had decided, Emma simply stood up and began to unlace herself from the dress she wore. She had pulled it down her corseted frame before she realised Elizabeth was staring at her.

“What is it? Oscar will need to measure us,” she said, handing the still-warm garment to the dressmaker.

“But,” Elizabeth began, her eyes flickering towards the waiting Oscar.

“Oh, it’s fine darling,” Oscar said with smile. “I’m not interested in anything you have in there.”

A dawn of comprehension rose over Elizabeth’s face, and Emma stifled a giggle. “Oh,” she said, eventually, before unlacing her own dress and letting it fall to the ground.

Emma was surprised to see that the girl was un-corseted; as she was sure with a waist that slender it must be with help. But no, her figure was natural, and she simply wore a smock - which clung to her ample frame - and a pair of white stockings.

“Do you want help out of your corset?” Elizabeth offered.

“Oh no darling, I always wear one.” Emma glanced down Elizabeth’s body one more time. “I may even go tighter for the party. What do you think Oscar?”

“I think you’ll look beautiful, Miss Emma.”

* * * * *

The carriage bumped and jolted along the cobbled streets as it wound its way towards Emma’s house. Elizabeth’s carriage was well appointed, and Emma was glad of it – her feet had begun to hurt, and they both had boxes with new gloves and masks - one black, one orange.

Once Elizabeth had opened up, Emma found her charming company. She said very little, and agreed with whatever Emma said about any topic. They would be excellent sisters-in-law, Emma decided. All it would take would be the first baby and she would lose that perfect figure too.

Emma had been talking for quite a while before she realised that the coach wasn’t going in the correct direction. In fact, it was heading across town, towards the slums with the mills and tanners. Her brown knitted in confusion.

“Elizabeth, darling, I think we’re going the wrong way?” she asked, leaning out of the window.

A delicate hand wrapped itself around her middle then, as if to pull her back in. However, before she knew what was happening, Emma’s mouth was covered with a thick rag. The smell was overpowering, and she instantly fainted – the chloroform working fast.

“Sorry poppet.” Elizabeth banged the top of the carriage twice, and felt the coach lurch forward, the driver acting under new instructions. Carefully, the girl inserted two fingers into Emma’s nose, and pushed the flat of her palm up under her dainty chin. She held the position for some time, even as the body began to spasm and shudder. In minutes, it was still. She had very little time to act.

The coach charged into the tanner’s yard, and came to an abrupt halt. The door burst open, and the metal steps snapped into place. Carefully, Elizabeth emerged, carrying the corpse of Emma with surprising strength. The driver jumped down to help, supporting her head and letting her gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair cascade over his black suit.

Mr. Crouch was there to meet them as they laid the body on his worktable. He said nothing, and worked quickly as he cut the dress, corset and smock from the still-warm body. She was not a woman to him – she was a job.

Mr Crouch reached for the hammer, and was about to bring it down on her head when Elizabeth held out her hand. The girl took a deep breath and nodded, closing her eyes as the hammer fell.

“When will she be ready?” she asked, as the broken body was lowered into the vat of lime and urine.

“Two days,” Mr. Crouch said. “Same as the one you’ve got on.”

* * * * *

Elizabeth closed the door behind her and carefully fastened the lock. The room was bare and drafty – its only furniture a dressing table, a large mirror, a closet and a tailor's dummy. She sniffed – the smell was terrible, even from this far away from the tannery. Not long now, she thought.

The young girl began to undress as she walked towards the dressing table. She stepped out of the dress as she walked, and was no more bashful about her white smock, wriggling it up her curvaceous body and pulling it over her head before throwing it aside. The almost naked Elizabeth put one foot up on the dressing table chair and unlaced her boot, tossing it aside before unceremoniously sliding down her stocking. She switched feet, and repeated the process.

She began to reach up, but paused as her hands brushed against her bare breasts. She cupped them softly, and squeezed them gently. “Perfect,” she said, her voice now very different: much lower, and richer. The nervousness had gone, replaced by a confidence not there before. “Anyway,” she said, snapping herself out of it and running her fingers through her hair, pulling out several clips in the process. The wig was removed carefully, and placed on top of tailor's dummy.

The naked woman reached behind her head, to where the thin laces ran across the top of her head and down to the nape of her neck. She deftly unfastened the ties and prised the edges of the skin apart. Elizabeth’s features began to distort, until her face was unrecognizable. She began to roll the skin of her face down, revealing another, hotter and sweatier face underneath.

Robert exhaled as he rolled the skin down to his neck. It was good to feel the cool air against his skin. It would be even better when he could take off the rest of her.

Nimbly, he reached behind his back to the ties there, and began to unfasten them, gradually widening the slit that was opening up in his back. The almost-invisible seam widened, until the clear dull grey of an undergarment was visible. Carefully the opening was widened further, until he could almost see the edges of the skin at his sides. Suddenly lady-like in his motions, he began to pull his own fingers free of the fingers of the skin, and pull his arm free – first one then the other. He ducked down, and pulled the top half of the cured skin off his body, wriggling it down his fantastically slender middle and over his wide girlish hips. The secret to his figure was then revealed – the most marvellous corset ever conceived. The dull grey fabric was sodden with sweat, but still clung to his naked body – contorting it into a feminine sweep. Bladders filled with water were attached at the top of the chest, and between the bottom of the corset and the metal ring that circled his thighs.

Again, with patience, he reached behind himself and began to loosen this punishing contraption, one segment at a time. Eventually, he pulled it off his warm and sticky body and carefully hung it on the dummy, rubbing the patches where it had irritated, and taking a mental note where to apply oil in the future

Finally, enjoying the freedom to breathe deeply, he slid down the legs of the skin and slipped it from his feet. The stench of sweat filled the air, overpowering the aroma of the tannery.

“Good,” he said finally. “Very good.”

* * * * *

Giles leant against the wall in drawing room, trying to look uninterested. Around him, partygoers in various outfits laughed and brayed as they talked and danced. Many of them awkwardly carrying drinks in one hand, and a mask in the other. As usual, only scant attention was paid to the theme, with most arriving in ornate, but random headdresses and outfits. There were, Giles ruefully noted, too many ladies who had adopted to present as cats.

He adjusted his rabbit ears and fiddled with his pocket watch – checking the time, but also to remind others how clever he was: not only a rabbit, but Alice’s rabbit. He smiled a wan hello to a passing cousin.

He heard Emma arrive before he saw her. Her bright shrieking laugh pierced the conversation like an arrow, and could be heard three doors away. Grimly, he snapped shut the pocket watch and stood tall, preparing himself for what might be to come.

Emma had never looked more beautiful. He laughed the moment he saw her, for she had chosen to come as a fox, rather than a helpless rabbit. Her dress was vivid and daring, showing off her too-tight waist and generous bosom to wonderful affect. Strangely, it was the little fox ears she wore that made Giles laugh the most. He caught her eye, and she smiled then, a dazzling bright grin that lit up the room. This evening may not be as turgid as he had thought.

“Emma, you look very cunning,” Giles said, leaning in to kiss her on both cheeks. Her skin tasted sweet, and was almost supernaturally soft.

“And you look very late,” she countered. “If I’d have known I’d have come as a dormouse.”

The gathered partygoers laughed.

The party continued around them, with many of the socially elite demanding Emma’s time, and many of Giles’ father’s friends taking up his. So it was much later on that they two found a quiet corner to themselves. However, rather than speak, Emma simply took Giles’ hand and pulled him along with her, up the stairs and breathlessly into Giles room. The vivacious girl closed the door behind her, locked it, and dropped the key down in between her generous cleavage.

“Emma, what’s gotten in to you?” Giles asked, frightened and aroused in equal measure.

Wordlessly, Emma walked towards him and put a finger onto his lips. She moved her face towards his, and kissed him, her eyes closed and her body melting into his. Giles was initially in shock, but gave in, opening his lips and returning the kiss hungrily. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, lifting the girl into the air as they broke off laughing.

“Well?” Emma asked, beaming.

“You utter genius,” Giles responded, happier than he had been for months. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Aren’t I delightful,” Emma said, twirling on the spot.

“It’s fantasy. Robert it’s utter brilliance,” he said, before grabbing her and kissing her again. “We can be together,” he said, stroking her long strawberry-blonde hair and tweaking her little foxy ears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Emma replied softly with Robert’s voice. “My little rabbit.”

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Many thanks, as ever, to L. Satori for proofreading

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