The Education of Annalise

by Laetitia

  * * * * *

  The next day dawned bright and sunny. The women occupied the morning with making final choices for their costumes for the afternoon. They each tried on an endless array of light summer frocks. There were a myriad of things to consider. If possible, they decided, no one should wear the same color...or if they had to duplicate colors, at least they would make sure the fabric or print was different. It went without saying that whatever the choice, each dress had to be utterly flattering to the wearer. Trying on dresses and then getting a consensus opinion used up vast amounts of time and energy.

  Next, they bathed and had their maids torture their hair into riots of corkscrew curls which either fell softly down the back of the head from a ribbon woven through the mass al· Greco, or puffed out in two small bunches in front of their ears, framing a low placed chignon on the back of the head. Their maids were all experienced in turning out their mistresses in fine form.

  By one-thirty, the women gathered in the blue parlor to check their final appearance before skipping lightly down the front steps to the waiting carriage that would whisk them away on their adventure.

  The drive took less than an hour, but the weather was so warm and the breeze so gentle, the short drive soothed their jangled nerves. The scenery bloomed effusively, caught in the throes of late August, the countryside resembled a great beauty who has just barely passed her prime. The echo of her former glory is apparent, but the rose in her cheek is slightly over-blossomed. The air smelled redolently of harvest and fall. Fallen apples dotted the road in places where the fruit had ripened and dropped, lending a spicy tang to the air. But the blazing sun proclaimed that summer still held sway, and all the lovely ladies were grateful for the shade of their straw "poke" bonnets.

  When the carriage pulled up to the south portico entrance, the young women were handed down to the shale driveway by a liveried footman, who indicated they were to go right on up the wide expanse of steps. Welcomed at the door by another liveried footman, one of higher rank, if the excessive gold braid on his uniform was any indication, they were shown into a large open front parlor.

  The scene that greeted the five young women was chaotic to put it mildly. The Aubuson carpet had been rolled into a tight tube at the end of the room, and several shallow tubs had been scattered around the floor. Women were standing fully clothed in the tray-like tubs, and a duet of maids per person were ladling water over the women's dresses. The accompanying squeals as the water sluiced down their various forms, straight, curvaceous or lumpy, were near to deafening!

  Shocked and disoriented, all the fractious five could do was stare. They finally scraped up their wits and turned to go, only to be stopped in mid flight by their hostess.

  "Oh no, my dears! Don't be alarmed. This will be ever so much fun!" she beamed at them as she steered the closet two deeper into the room. "Here Hattie, this one's ready," she said as she pushed a reluctant Mandy toward the dripping duo. "Marie, you must be quicker! Here, take this one." She pushed Lise forward. "Now be very careful not to wet their hair!"

  Caro Lamb stood with her arms akimbo and watched the scene unfold before her...then with an almost manic passion she threw her hands in the air. "NO, NO, NO! This will never do! My dears," she lowered her voice only slightly, as she gathered her five charges about her, "you must remove those under drawers. Your dresses will not drape properly if they must dip and sag over baggy drawers. OFF! Take them off immediately!" She clapped her hands loudly and it echoed in the cavernous room. "Help these ladies off with their drawers!"

  "Now just a minute, " Kait began to bluster, but Becca elbowed her in the ribs and nodded toward several other women in the room who seemed to take this odd ritual in stride.

  "Do you want them to think we're country bumpkins?" Becca hissed at Kait and Jess both, then began to divest herself of her lace-trimmed drawers.

  "Lovely, ladies! Never fear, we will wrap them up and return them to you when you leave. In the future, you will know not to wear them. Nest-ce pas?"

  she said over her shoulder as she rushed off to avert another small crisis.

  In mere moments, five bewildered young ladies, sans drawers and soaked to the skin, were being herded through the slippery hallway, through the back portico, and out into the terraced gardens. Glittering tables were arranged at several places on the lawn and ladies still damp from their required ablutions strolled unconcerned that their dresses clung to their bodies like a second skin, or that if positioned just right in the path of the lowering sun, rendered their dresses all but transparent. Several maids strolled around ladling more water over acquiescent women who were becoming too dry in the warm afternoon sun.

  "So wonderfully refreshing don't you think?" a soggy matron of the lumpy variety gushed like a school girl. "You can always count on Caro to do the unexpected." The older lady waddled off toward the food table.

  "Let's get out of here!" Mandy hissed.

  "We can't just leave," Annalise whispered back. "We just got here and she'll notice if we leave too soon."

  "I don't care!" Jess's voice began to rise with her agitation. "We look positively naked!"

  "But look..." Becca pointed out, "nobody else seems bothered by it."

  "Well I most assuredly am!" Mandy stamped her foot for emphasis.

  "Look, why don't we take one wandering pass through the grounds and then meet back here and leave?" Kait asked. "What do you think?"

  Reassured that no one else seemed bothered by the dampened dresses, the women began to wander through the crowd, occasionally stopping to have a short conversation with an acquaintance, or sweeping a glass of champagne from a passing tray. Each of them managed a circuitous route that landed them back on the portico steps.

  "Hurry! Let's leave before they come around and douse us again," Annalise began to prod her friends into the hallway and out the front door. She was never so happy to see a waiting carriage in her life.

  The drive home was punctuated by semi-hysterical bouts of laughter. Once they'd escaped the excruciatingly embarrassing "small country gathering" they congratulated themselves and each other for having acquitted themselves with at least a modicum of grace and decorum in a difficult situation.

  "Did you see Lady Bostwick?" Becca laughed.

  "Yes, rather too much of her for comfort to be precise," Jess giggled. "She really shouldn't come to affairs like these where your form and figure are on such display."

  The friends dissolved into paroxysms of laughter, until Mandy spoke up.

  "You realize if we saw that much of her, others saw that much of us."

  Symbolically doused once again, it was a sober procession that entered the cool halls of Westmiden as the sun set blushingly on the horizon..

  * * * * *

  It is an unfortunate feature of the clubs of London, that they tend to be clearing houses for rumor, innuendo and, on occasion, fact. Justin Burke and Benjamin Lindsey were sipping brandy and waiting for their other three friends to join them at Brookes’s, a fairly exclusive men’s club on St. James Street. Typical of long-time friends, they were enjoying a companionable silence, when Charles Fox, Lord Crewe came and sat with them without invitation.

  "This will not do! This most assuredly will not do!" Fox kept slapping a folded copy of the London Times against the palm of his hand as if he could make the offending piece disappear by beating it out.

  "Calm yourself man, " Justin smiled indulgently at the older man. Fox was the founder of the club and therefore deserved respect, but could sometimes get carried away. "If it’s the "Change, it will rally! Take heart."

  "The ‘Change? I don’t give a tinker’s dam about the ‘Change. I’m talking about immorality and depravation...don’t you smirk at me boy...your wife has fallen into bad company! Bad company, boy!"

  Fox swung around to pin Ben with a glare. "Your’s too you arrogant young pup! And no wonder!" He smacked the paper against his palm again for emphasis. "You two sit here swilling brandy like two young Pashas, whil
e your wives are...are...ah go to the Devil!...read it for yourselves!" Fox stood up and threw the paper on the low table between Justin and Ben.

  "Clean up your houses, boys...makes men look bad when they can’t control their wives!" With that the older man stomped off.

  Justin and Ben looked at each other, neither one wanted to reach for the paper.

  They stared at it lying there as if it were a rabid animal.

  Finally Justin picked it up. The paper had been folded so that the column Whispers was prominent on the page. His eyes skimmed the article quickly.

  Justin never moved a muscle, but Ben watched as color crept up his friend’s neck flushing beyond the stylishly high color, up to his cheeks, and ultimately flaming his entire face.

  "Good God Almighty!" Justin expostulated. He threw the paper back on the table and leaned his head into the comforting embrace of the well-worn leather of the high wing backed chair. He closed his eyes and tried to master himself.

  Ben reached for the paper to read the article for himself, just as they were joined by Chris, Darren, and Jeff.

  "Sit down boys," Justin welcomed them without even opening his eyes. "Were I you, I’d order a stiff brandy right now...while you can still choke it down."

  The three men exchanged confused glances and looked to Ben for an explanation.

  "Something in the paper about our wives..." Ben said.

  "All of our wives!" Justin interrupted. "All of them!"

  "What?" Christopher Myrick tried to read the column over Ben’s shoulder.

  "Sit down!" Ben barked. "It is irritating to have you looming above me like that!"

  "Why don’t you wait till you have a drink and then Ben can read it aloud to you all at once?" Justin still looked shaken, but at least his eyes were open.

  Once the men had been served their drinks, Ben began to read the article.

  You might recall that this writer disclosed a short while ago that Lady Caroline Lamb was having a small garden party to celebrate the end of summer...

  "Why should we care about a garden party?" Darren interrupted.

  "Just wait," Justin said. "You will."

  ... but even I had no idea that along with the summer flowers, the guests would be watered...

  What followed was a brief explanation of the "dampening down of the dresses" which was required by the hostess.

  ...the result of which was indecent in the extreme. Ladies parading around with soaked dresses that clung to their most personal parts and in some cases if the dress material was light enough, became utterly useless as adequate covering.

  As you might expect, Lady Melbourne’s usual decadent set was in attendance, and by all indications found this salacious behavior amusing in the extreme.

  Had it been the usual collections of coarse, lewd hangers-on that so often frequent Caro Lamb’s gatherings, I would still have been appalled, but not surprised.

  Alas dear reader, such was not the case. To my utter astonishment, who should appear, but five young brides from good families, strolling through the gardens like re-creations of Eve! Bad enough Caro Lamb has long ago bartered away her good name, but to be so brazen as to entice these young women with temptations beyond their ken...

  All five men took a large gulp of brandy, knowing it was futile...that even brandy couldn’t make their hearts beat at a normal rate or their hands become steady again.

  "Go on Ben, you might as well read the rest," Justin said.

  ...is a crime against all decorous society! It grieves me to disclose these women’s names, but my duty is clear. The five young brides were: Mrs. Justin Burke, Mrs. Benjamin Lindsey, Mrs. Christopher Myrick, Mrs. Darren Stone, and Mrs. Jeffery Powers.

  It is to be hoped that the families, and most especially the husbands, of these misguided young women will be able to exert positive pressure to acquaint them with the dangers of associating with bad companions.

  "Oh I’ll exert pressure alright!" Darren Stone was already standing.

  "Finish your drink, Darren, Mandy’s butt will wait for you I’m sure," Justin said.

  "How can you sound so unconcerned?" Jeff asked.

  "Because I’m trying to give our wives the benefit of the doubt. It may not have been as bad as it was being presented, and I think we owe it to our wives not to go off half-cocked."

  " But Justin, how will we know how bad it truly was?" Chris asked.

  "I think we should hurry back post-haste and ask our lovely ladies to give us a fashion review. Do you concur?"

  "Sounds reasonable," Ben said.

  "Then, if our worst fears are confirmed, we can deal with it directly...." Justin raised his brandy snifter in a mock toast. "Bottoms up, gentlemen. Bottoms up!"

  * * * * *

  Annalise had read the same column, and had almost fainted dead away.

  Alarmed by the green tinge of their friend’s face, the other women peered over her shoulder to see what had unnerved her so. There they were...all five of them named...and branded as Jezebels.

  "Oh dear God!" Jess shrieked. "What if our husbands read that?"

  "Calm down!" Mandy tried to follow her own advice, but her heart was hammering in her chest like a marching band. "Men rarely read the society pages."

  "If you don’t think someone will show it to them...you’re daft! Don’t be stupid, Mandy! We’re doomed! Jeff is going to blister me!" Becca began to pace nervously back and forth.

  "Sit down!" Annalise ordered. "Wearing a hole in my new carpet won’t solve a thing. We need to think."

  "How much time do you think we have before they ride in here like avenging angels?" Kait asked. "How long has it been since the paper was delivered from town?"

  "What difference does it make? They’ll be here soon. I’d bet Aunt Tillie’s corset on it," Mandy said with pragmatic solemnity.

  "Oh Lord! What are we going to do?" wailed Jess. "Chris welted my fanny just for flirting a little, but if he thinks I sashshayed around a garden party looking more naked than dressed..."

  "You did! We all did!" Kaitland said with brutal honesty.

  Annalise squirmed in her chair. "Listen ladies. This is all my fault. I should’ve never written to Caro to ask for that invitation..."

  "You’re correct about that at least...wife."

  Annalese spun around and looked at the large arched doorway into the parlor.

  What she saw there did not reassure her. Five men were standing reigning in their rage with obvious effort.

  She felt a shiver go down her spine.

  "Why don’t you favor us with the same display the guests at Caro’s party had?" Justin’s calm soft voice did not soothe Annalise’s jumpy nerves. If anything, she felt more jumpy than before, and her stomach was flopping around like a newly caught trout.

  "Yes ladies. We’d like to see for ourselves the outfits you wore that caused such comment in the London Times no less." Ben Lindsey glared exclusively at Kaitland, but every wife in the room trembled.

  "Uh...we threw the dresses out. They were ruined...you see." Jess tried to keep her voice from shaking, but she was unable to.

  Chris walked over to his wife as she stood by the fireplace. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look up into his eyes. "Jessica, if I call your maid in here and ask for confirmation of that, you’d better hope she can. I think you know the penalty for lying. Don’t you?"

  "I uhm...I thought some of us threw them out...didn’t someone?" Jess sounded pathetic even to her own ears, and none of the other wives wanted to risk more punishment to help her by lying as well.

  "Well then, it’s settled," Darren said. "We’d like all you lovely brides to dress exactly as you did for Caro Lamb’s party and meet us out on the south lawn."

  "Wha...what are you going to do?" Mandy could barely choke out.

  "Why Amanda mine," Darren walked over to stand in front of Mandy and pulled her to her feet. Resting his hands lightly on her shoulders, he smiled down into his wife’s upturned face. "I’m going to do
what I most love to do...gaze at my beautiful wife."

  Mandy looked for any hope of reprieve in his blue-green eyes and found only ice. She tried to smile, but her mouth was so dry she feared she most resembled the rictus grimace of the dead rather than the placating simper she was trying for. Well, there was a certain ironic justice to that, she thought.

  "Hurry ladies, or we will miss the advantage of the almost setting sun," Jeff said. "And if the Times is to be believed, that light was particularly efficacious for viewing such visions of feminine...ahem...charms."