A fable
There was a beautiful woman of noble birth whose station had been raised yet further, due to her marrying a Baron. She was very world-wise, and as time went on she became more so. Although she had a kind heart, as the Baroness she grew sly and cunning, even as her beauty began to fade - though truth be told, she was the only one who seemed to notice.
At this time the Baroness had three handmaidens, who were all sisters: Trisxkadael was twelve, Ibnekrahn was nine, and Zolflios was six. The two older sisters had to help the Baroness into a corset every day now, because she’d started wearing one to hide the small imperfections only she could see.
As time passed, the loss of the Baroness’s youthful tone became slightly more apparent, and it caused her much distress. She now asked that her corset be put on tighter, and though it was painful, the Baroness knew it was a small price to pay for her public image. To make herself feel better about the whole affair, she commissioned the finest tailor in the land to make for her a new corset. It was more than a decent corset - more than an excellent corset - it was a splendid corset, all of black silk, with white lace, and red ties, and green and azure gems.
Trisxkadael and Ibnekrahn were old enough to understand why women wear corsets, and devoted as they were to their Baroness, they fawned dutifully and grovelled accordingly. But Zolflios was confused as to the need for such a device - though knowing her place, she held her tongue.
“It’s elegant!” said Trisxkadael.
“It’s beautiful!” sighed Ibnekrahn.
'It’s black,′ thought Zolflios.
The matter of her figure did not improve for the Baroness, and as months passed, she commanded they tie the corset yet tighter, such that the older sisters now required the assistance of young Zolflios to do it.
“Such a beautiful fabric,” Trisxkadael crooned.
“It’s wonderful to touch; it must feel very nice,” Ibnekrahn purred.
“..My hands are sore...” murmured Zolflios.
Months became years, and the corset grew ever tighter. Though the Baroness suffered from it she was used to the pain by now, - indeed, could scarcely remember life without it, - and would not have thought of being in public without the corset. The pain made the Baroness irritable at times, and the maturing older sisters occasionally had to mask their exasperation, and either keep their opinions to themselves or find such to offer that would satisfy the Baroness and defuse her irritability.
“It accentuates your figure!”
“The emeralds are magnificent!”
Zolflios had never much cared for the corset herself, and having nothing good to say about it she dissembled, announcing: “You are the most elegant lady in all the land, mistress. You and the Baron shall make a stunning entrance this evening.”
The Baroness smiled at Zolflios before turning to the mirror to put on her earrings. As she was putting them on she imagined the scene that would transpire later, when she and her husband made their entrance into the drawing room to welcome their dinner guests. How gorgeous and elegant and radiant she would be! How dignified and handsome her husband! And later on, at dinner, how witty and charming she knew she could be. And how clever... How sophisticated... How knowing...
She smiled at the thought, and as she did so, her absent gaze caught the reflection in the large vanity mirror in front of her. She saw the wince of pain tinging her smile - the pain from the corset. But then she realized the pain in her smile had a deeper cause, and she saw that it was the pain of being the Baroness. She realized then how tired and how frustratingly empty she’d become, always striving manically to live up to what was expected of her; how she’d smiled in a similar fashion to people she loathed, simply because she’d known it her duty to be charming. To be the Baroness... But after all, it was worth it - was it not?
She thought about this, and gave herself a grave glance in the mirror. Then she put on some lipstick, just as her mother had taught her to do whenever she needed cheering up. It helped little, which only made the Baroness more upset, and the sisters could not help but notice the pain in her expression.
“Some brandy for your discomfort, my Lady?” Trisxkadael asked discreetly.
“Laudanum is better - I’ll fetch it,” Ibnekrahn said dutifully.
“..My Lady, why don’t you just loosen it?”
Everyone stared at Zolflios.
“How cheeky!” Trisxkadael scolded.
“How pert!” Ibnekrahn chided.
'How... impossible...' the Baroness thought sadly.
Trisxkadael slapped her little sister across the face. “You arrogant imp!” she hollered.
“You uppity scallywag!” Ibnekrahn blurted.
'..How nice...' the Baroness thought wistfully.
“It’s unthinkable!” Trisxkadael shrieked.
“It’s scandalous!” wailed Ibnekrahn, as she grabbed her little sister by the ear.
'What a sensible girl...' said the Baroness to herself.
“Yes, loosen it please, Zolflios.”
The older sisters gasped quietly.
'..How absurd..!'
'..How dangerous..!'
“How much, my Lady?”
The Baroness thought a moment, then said: “Just get it off me, dear.” Zolflios nodded and removed the corset. The Baroness breathed a great sigh of relief. “I will take that spot of brandy now, if you please.”
“I’ll fetch it straight away, mistress,” said Trisxkadael. '..She’s gone mad..!'
“..And now for your nails, Baroness?” Ibnekrahn asked sweetly. '..Pray this doesn’t ruin her...'
“My Lady, you still look beautiful,” said Zolflios. And the Baroness believed her. Now that the pain was gone, she felt beautiful. Her figure might be less than perfect, but at least she’d be able to breathe. The Baroness knew she was taking a risk, but in the end, she felt that it was worth it.
“Thank-you, dear... And now for my nails... Shall we try purple tonight?” She began to giggle along with her handmaidens, and they set to painting her nails.
An hour later the Baron and the Baroness met alone in their sitting room to wait for the clock to strike eight, at which time the couple were to make their entrance. The Baron embraced his wife and kissed her cheek. As she held him, she wondered casually if he’d felt the absence of her corset. She then realized that the question hardly mattered, as she could feel its absence. The cheekiness of the notion surprised her, and she smiled.
The couple sat with brandy for another half-hour, their conversation growing playful, due in part to the liquor. The Baron smiled at his wife and told her how beautiful she was, and that tonight she seemed especially so.
“Maybe it’s my new nails, dear... See?”
“Oh, my! Purple!” exclaimed the Baron. “..Why darling, it’s so dangerous!” He chuckled. “And... mysterious...” He smiled. “..And provocative...” He leered.
“Now Magnus, tut-tut.” She giggled. “Be patient - like a good boy... We’ll have time for your nonsense later, after they’ve all left.” She allowed herself a slight leer: “..And I’ll have nothing on but my nail polish... Now, my dear, I think it’s time we should go and meet our guests.”
The Baron stood and regarded his wife fondly. Then he started as it dawned on him: “I’ve just realized what’s different about you tonight, Clara - you’re not wearing your corset!” He laughed. “Well done, my dear! Damn thing must be bloody uncomfortable, no?” He took his wife by the arm, and they walked to the drawing room and made an entrance that was indeed most grand.
Later at dinner, at some point during the third course, the Baron, now jovial and loose with wine, had occasion to find himself saying: “Lords and Ladies, have you noticed something different about Lady Clara this evening?”
He smiled affectionately at Clara, but she was suddenly taken with panic:
'Dear god, he’s drunk! He’s going to humiliate me! What an irresponsible fool!'
She glared at her husband, but he was oblivious, and pressed on: “None of you noticed? ..Really?” He searched their faces a moment, then exclaimed: “Her nails! They’re purple! ..Show them, dear... They’re really quite something, eh what?” He laughed, and turned to Clara. “You know, you really ought to try this more often, darling - I think it’s very becoming...”
The Baroness exhaled with a smile, and showed the party her purple nails.
“Such an alluring shade...” 'How ridiculous!'
“So exotic...” 'I wouldn’t be caught dead...'
“Oh my, how unusual! ..I must say, I rather like it!”
