How long had she been in governess
Swanley’s care? She couldn’t
remember. It felt as if it had been for
her whole life. She couldn’t imagine a
life without governess Swanley, couldn’t even begin to think how she could cope
without her governess to guide her, without her governess to make all those
little decisions for her, life’s little
decisions, tell her what to do, what to wear, how to behave; decisions were so
difficult to make, so hard to make her mind up…
She’d been so stupid to think she could make
it through that final year in school, go on to university. It had been a ridiculous idea – why, she
couldn’t even leave the house alone, not without her governess to hold her
hand; she was terrified, absolutely petrified, by open spaces you see; agoraphobia
they call it. Her stepmother had been
absolutely correct to take her out of school as early as was legally ratified,
as soon as she was no longer compelled by law to attend. That school had been far too relaxed, had
lacked discipline. Why they didn’t even
have a school uniform. Miss Swanley
would never have that; Miss Swanley, governess Swanley, insisted on school
uniform at all times, even though she was being schooled at home – a school
uniform Miss Swanley had designed herself, had tailor-made by a dressmaker in
her employ, right down to the mid-thigh length bloomers with their removable
rubberised lining and locking ‘tamper proof’ waistband that constantly peek out
from beneath the hem of the little pleated skirt.
Discipline was something definitely NOT in
short supply under Miss Swanley’s régime; discipline was what she needed; a
firm hand; someone to keep her on a short leash, under control… Strict
discipline – that was what she needed; a strong hand, and a warmed behind if
she stepped out of line… And Miss Swanley’s cane could provide
that. But Miss Swanley was right to cane
her or throw her across her knee for a sound hairbrush spanking
She was such a silly, silly empty-headed
little girl… a silly little thing without a thought in her silly little head,
quite unable to make the tiniest little decision for herself, completely
dependent on her governess, on governess Swanley, on those wonderful little
sedative capsules the woman doled out, too shy to as much as look at strangers
let alone speak… terrified even of leaving her bedroom unaccompanied…
Another caption from a picture I've re-blogged on Tumblr to my account there. You'll doubtless recognise many of the elements from my books, but there you are; such were the thoughts running through my head.
Four days to go to my knee replacement surgery. So, the sun's
out (unlike yesterday, which was dismal) so I'm off to meet up with the
other half. Going to the Victora and Albert museum (wow! I'd much
rather go to the pub - still, perhaps I'll manage both!)
I'll have my phone with me - and my lap top - so I'll be able to see and reply to my emails.
See Ya!
Posts
.png)
16 comments:
What a wonderful description, and completely in tune with the look in the girl's eyes - total dependence. This image must have been taken during a specific time during her daily routine though: her hair has been allowed to hang loose and free, certainly not something that would be countenanced for anything more than the most fleeting of intervals such as maybe just before her evening bath, or immediately upon waking in the morning. Either time would be suitable for treatment. Setting her up for a peaceful sleep dreaming the thoughts of a girl safe and secure in her environment, far removed from the terrors of open spaces without a hand held or from decisions which now do not concern her. The looks of passers-by no longer concern her either as they wonder at the prim and traditional outfit worn by the girl with her governess. Her eyes are fixed straight ahead at all times unless she hears the voice of her governess at which point she immediately looks up and waits for instruction, automatic, programmed but at e same time secure and unthinking. Maybe her vision is limited by a bonnet.........
That was a lot of fun, I might have to check out these books...
I have been wondering why you always tiptoe around the actual age of your "victims"? Are there censorship laws in the UK that prevent you from explicitly involve late teens?
On another topic I am also wondering if the idea of mother/daughter/sister enforced discipline scenario is against your personal taste or is this again a censorship issue?
Don't get me wrong I do enjoy your writings but some variety would be nice. The step-mother scenario is a little too repetitive in my opinion.
Maybe someday a sister in law could decide that her brother's wife and daughter should become her servants instead of enjoying their deceased husband/father fortune. After a few months of conditioning the mother could be made to perform acts on her daughter, acts "against nature" but also discipline. Maybe Potty and Putty (yes their new names) would be made to cane each other when they have been breaking the rules and their are many many rules they need to follow. At this stage of their reeducation neither of these girls would be willing to defy their governess.
If the thought of forced incest is taboo then forgive me for putting these ideas on paper.
Max
The theatre room at the V&A is celebrating 450 years since Shakespeare's birth. It's worth seeing. I was just there on my first visit to London. Also the modern art glass has some spectacular pieces.
Now, I know I have said this before, but why not make up an identity for yourself. It would be just as anonymous as,well – Anonymous - so long as you choose something that does not give away a clue to your true identity, has the advantage of simplifying (and personalising, which feels more friendly) responses to comments in such situations as this and it can be kind of fun, perhaps witty, and creative too – you can choose or invent something which represents something about your personality and / or interests: 'Sir Spankalot' sets a nice example in that respect. My own chosen moniker, my nom de plume if you will – Garth P. Toyntanen (to give it in full) – happens to be an anagram of my real name, though not particularly clever, nor witty at all, not in any manner I can see anyway.
Enough of my moaning; suffice it to say, I am always grateful for any and every comment or contribution sent in, what ever the contributor cares to call his or her self; and so on we go:
First of all, my thanks to ANONYMOUS 1 for the compliment, and for the insightful analysis of my caption. Well, YOU have clearly been reading my stuff or are otherwise familiar with my thought processes and the way in which my mind works. Certainly no governess or other, similar authority figure in the Toyntanen world stand for such a casual coiffure at other times than those you outline. But even taking that in to account her hair has been allowed to grow too long n any case, a very lackadaisical state of affairs.
Yes there was a time and place in the Toyntanen world when an authority figure might have advocated a tight severe plat or hair braided into a pair of pigtails tied off with ribbon bows – and this would be the recommended style, even for waist length hair, in which case the otherwise unwieldy over-long plaits might have been wound up in flat coils, pinned up at either side of the girl's head. Latterly, however – an era in which the emphasis is tending to shift away from that previous, and perhaps, overly-empathetic concern with the potential emotionally detrimental effect on a young lady of the fate of her lovingly cultivated locks, in favour a placing greater import on that most fascinating of words, 'discipline', - that selfsame authoritarian would more likely enforce a severely styled boyish cut, with the hair clipped to above the ears, side parted and with the 'bangs' cut well back from the forehead. Alternatively a slightly more feminine form might be adopted, perhaps collar length (but NEVER longer), still with the 'bangs' chopped well clear of the forehead but with just sufficient length length left in the sides to allow for two stubby plaited pigtails, again tied with ribbon bows. But regardless of whichever of these two approaches might be adopted, the one common theme would be a complete disregard for the feelings of the young lady as the years of loving care and attention, the expensive hairdresser salon visits and untold hours of brushing it has taken to grow that waist length – or even bottom length – golden or auburn or ebony glory falls to the floor or settles like the ashes of vanity around and over the barber's chair and the plastic or nylon cape around her shoulders. Of course in truth the wise disciplinarian will have the greatest of concerns over the emotional effect of all this on his or her charge, it is just that the concern has shifted focus, that is all.
If there is one area in which we do not ENTIRELY agree it is that the stares and glances of passers-by are now of no concern to her. On the contrary: through the insidious and oft subtle power of suggestion not only has her natural shyness become sharpened but in addition she has become even more sensitive to criticism and the critical, knowing glances of strangers, passers-by and visitors to the home in equal measure. If anything, then, far from being unaware, her sense of shame and embarrassment and of humiliation over the situations she finds herself in has become heightened, her cheeks rarely not the colour of burning coal or of an iron poker left in the fire.
Sir Spankalot – Really? A name like that and you have NEVER read any of my books? I'm surprised at you; you're letting the side down. Ha Ha! Sorry I'm on morphine – or something very much like it. For the pain which has come as a side effect of my knee replacement operation, you must understand; I'm writing this while sitting up in a hospital bed with an icepack on my knee, roughly fifty-five hours post operation.
ANONYMOUS 2 (AKA Max), hi, and thanks for your contribution: certainly food for thought. Actually, the idea of mother and daughter has been done, though not quite in the way you suggest (which has some very exciting undertones), but a mother-daughter pairing trained together to serve and pleasure a dominant woman working together has been depicted elsewhere. Look for a book titled EMMA’S SECRET WORLD (can't remember who by, but it was available on the top shelf of a certain big high street bookshop chain here in the UK back in the mid 90s).
Now the reason I seem to always tiptoe around the actual age of my "victims" is that there are indeed quite sensitive censorship issues in the UK – and elsewhere – not all of which involve official censorship, but some of which centre on certain social concerns (social concerns which, in the UK at least, border on paranoiac hysteria and can be dangerous – physically dangerous). For example, once, not so long ago, anyone found guilty of under-age sex – perhaps with a young adult only slightly below the age of consent – would be charged and convicted, as rightly should be the case; but that would be it. Nowadays their name would be spread all across the newspapers, branded a paedophile. And in the UK a person can be branded a paedophile for having a relationship with a young adult OVER the age of consent, if the age gap is popularly deemed too great; thus the tale of the thirty-something married (MARRIED, mark you) to a girl not quite 18 (the age of consent is 16 in the UK) being followed up the street, his young wife on his arm, being followed by a small army of boys and youths chanting 'paedophile, paedophile', over and over. Elsewhere in the UK, a 'vulnerable' chap branded locally – falsely it turned out – a paedophile, based on rumour and whispers, but little else, was beaten and then burned to death by a mob of youths. The reason, he 'caused trouble' but mainly he 'looked wrong'!
Then we have the legal side: as already stated, the age of consent (when one is considered a consenting adult) in the UK is 16. In a lot of other countries it is 18 (thus the statement seen on many websites that 'all our girls are over 18'. I believe that in certain countries – and in certain states of the US – the age of consent is 21. So you see, what is legal in the UK might be highly illegal – maybe even viewed as paedophilic for all I know – in other countries; and of course the internet is a world-wide phenomenon; and while not quite a world-wide phenomenon, my books also can be purchased and are sold all over the world.
Actually, I do use the term, 'late teens' quite frequently, and quite explicitly – and I do so in the knowledge that where the age of consent is 18, then that is the age that can be assumed; ditto where that age happens to be 16, but is definitely meant to infer a biologically mature individual, should there be any locales where that age is deemed to be perhaps 15 (which might, just, be taken as late teen, or at least the extreme threshold of that designation). That term – late teen – also rules out an unfortunate assumption that may be drawn in certain corners of the world based on another term I sometimes use, 'of marriageable age'. In the UK that age, too, is 16 (with parental agreement ). In certain other countries 'marriageable' can be very young indeed, thus I try to make it clear, while not completely stifling the right the individuals to make use of his or her (I have female readers out there) imagination that we are talking about UK law when I use the term 'Marriageable', and in any case I go out of my way to describe, or infer in some way, a sexually mature figure.
The topic of a mother/daughter/sister enforced discipline scenario is simply against my personal taste – I just think the kind of stuff I write seems less plausible with blood relatives involved. Whether it would become a censorship issue - all things to do with public decency laws being put aside for he moment – might well depend on the age of the older participants. A mother-daughter scenario immediately places a lower limit on the mother's age. This is a problem that simply does not arise in the case of a step parent relationship. In the latter case not only may the age gap between participants be allowed to be much smaller, but it can also exist in the reverse direction, by which I mean the step-mother (for example) could plausibly be YOUNGER than her stepdaughter – an idea I would wager many members of my readership would find exciting.
But yes, you are right; the step-mother scenario is getting a little tired, which is one reason I am starting to explore other directions – one of which is not a million miles from your final suggestion, a hint of which you should be able to detect in the last book I published; as hint, think of the phone call between my new character, Miss Swanley, and a woman she begins to refer to and address as 'Lina'. Remember?
ANONYMOUS 3. Thanks for the tip. I didn't make the Victoria and Albert museum in the end. I was too stressed out over my upcoming total knee replacement operation and didn't get past the nearest Wetherspoons pub. So here I am, ice pack on knee sitting up in bed writing this and about to get on with some physiotherapy exercises before sleep. Thank God I have a private room!
ANONYMOUS 3. Thanks for the tip. I didn't make the Victoria and Albert museum in the end. I was too stressed out over my upcoming total knee replacement operation and didn't get past the nearest Wetherspoons pub. So here I am, ice pack on knee sitting up in bed writing this and about to get on with some physiotherapy exercises before sleep. Thank God I have a private room!
I hope your recovery from knee replacement heralds a return to blogging and writing. Personally the uniform s appeal to me the most, along with those diabolical devices.
For the benefit of anonymous 2, all of Hilary James' Emma books are still available from Nexus in both Kindle and paperback form, as well as related works by Alan Alldiss, the actual author.
Hi Garth. Sorry I haven't been around much. I'd just like to wish you a speedy recovery. Knees and backs can be a LOT of trouble. I hope you feel better soon.
The Non Victorian Chick
Thanks for that info, Vlad. You know, I had an inkling that Alan Alldis might have been behind that 'Emma' series of novels; I think it was the way the writer tends to be drawn towards the Middle East Hareem theme, but is also very much British at the same time.
Ahhh! The Non Victorian Chick! Long time - no hear! You don't write, you don't call...! (My mother actualy says stuff like that! I once held my phone from my ear in the pub with it switched to speakerphone when she was giving me an earfull: Much laughter all round!). So, where you been? What you been reading? My excuse is that I have been stuck recuperating at my mother's post opperation, and she dosen't have internet access... OMG - it's been like being in prison! I had a go at texts / emails from in hospital but the morphine and stuff got in the way, to the extent that at one point I found myself having dozed off with my phone in my hand (at least it was only my phone - ha ha!)half way through sending a text.
Today I an in a coffee bar, having had to travel to my doctor's to have the last of my stitches out (actualy 'clips'; things that look like I have been attacked by some loony toon with an office stapler). I had the other stitches out back last Thursday, but I'd 'pulled' a couple at the kneecap through over zealous flexing and bending of the joint. But then again, adherence to the physiotherapy regime is essential in order to get a good range of movement - and as a cyclist I need at LEAST 110 degree flexion angle. So it's a little 'swings and rundabouts' in that way.
In hospital I was 'fastracked' meaning that I was shoved on to a pair of crutches just 2 - 3 hours post surgery and while still woozy from anastheic - I thought they were joking! I was in for 3 nights and had 6 physio sessions in that time, going from two crutches to one crutch to two sticks and the one stick - talk about intensive! Just a little over 48 hours post surgery I took my first couple of steps without a stick (I have a pic which I'll post up when I get back home to my desktop computer.
I had surgery on Thursday afternoon on 24th April, and on the Sunday (27th April) I left hospital and was able (just - with determined effort) to walk out to my taxi carrying my stick (VERY slowely, VERY painfully - what a stupid dick, you're probably thinking). Still hurts like sin, still cant quite get it to fully straighten out, but the range of movement is encouraging - which is how I pulled those stitches! So... I'm gonna be home this Monday and back working with Roger Benson and / or Ms Fox (directly or indirectly) on some artwork while trying to finish off a little writing project I have on my hard drive.
By ya'll!
I am glad your recovery is going well, although I do not envy you the pain. I hope everything improves quickly and that you are back to form quickly.
I am keen to read more of your work, and am interested in the "little writing project on your hard drive"........
Fasttracked? Hmmmm. Just don't end up like a friend of mine. He had surgery, and they sent him home in pain, and with a good supply of dangerous prescription painkillers, which he proceeded to abuse. Nest thing he knew, he was seeing giant spiders coming out of his stomach.
The Non Victorian Chick
Spiders? OMG! I HATE spiders (see - I DO have a weakness, I'm not QUITE the superior being I'd like folk to perceive me as... err... and then there is the barely controlled alcoholism… and the dyslexia… and the bouts of depression… and the urge to eat vast quantities of veggie sausage rolls – lower fat pastry of course – despite the fact they make me ill coz I’m a bit wheat intolerant and they use gluten much more for the filling nowadays coz of the concern over GMO soya; I ate eight last night, and I’m paying the cost in sheets of bog roll… Oh god, it goes on and on… see what you’ve done? I’m gonna have to go down the pub now and get pissed – which is what I did yesterday, first time since surgery) Five weeks out, and there is still stacks of pain… But I’m on paracetamol and Voltarol cream, so no need for concern, young non-Victorian type person (and now booze too). But, yeah, if they’d sent me packing with some nice morphine-based stuff I’d be abusing that too!
Post a Comment