6 Fantasy Stories (4 page)

A day later, my mistress, Lady Crenshaw, was having the time of her life. The business we were conducting in her bedroom, to my mind, was quite serious, but she simply couldn't stop laughing at my expense.

I tried my best to ignore her in spite of my compromised position. "Isn't there some way to
loosen
this...this..."

"
Corset?
" The mention of the word set off another gale of laughter from Lady Crenshaw. Clutching the back of a chair, she doubled over, eyes pinched shut as the laughter burst out of her. "
You
want
me
to loosen the
corset
you're wearing?"

As Lady Crenshaw continued her bout of hilarity, I looked down at the alien garment wrapped tightly about my midsection. I'd seen corsets on women many times, of course--I'm married, after all--but it was quite another thing to be stuffed inside one myself.

It was, in fact, quite worse than I'd imagined. "Just
unhook
the thing, will you? It's cutting off my..."

"Circulation?" Lady Crenshaw gave me a look with both eyebrows raised high, just before falling into yet another blast of howling laughter.

I found myself regretting my decision to approach her for help. Yet of all the women I knew, she was the only one I could imagine giving it in these circumstances. She was the only one I could ask without fear of being turned in to the authorities.

Even at that, this wasn't easy. I didn't relish becoming a laughing stock for my mistress. I wished her to see me as virile, not effeminate.

But this work was critical, and there was no other way. If I intended to infiltrate the Female Protection Society, I would have to appear to be a woman. My disguise would have to be good enough to fool the keen-eyed nun at the front door.

And I would have to be ready in less than two hours. I had first followed Bess and Mrs. Whitaker-Bunyan to the Female Protection Society a day ago. If they returned there at the same time today, they would arrive in one hour and fifty minutes.

Time was swiftly running out. "I really must insist that we get on with this." I raised my voice to command her attention.

Lady Crenshaw's bright blue eyes lighted upon my lower body. "I must say, darling, it's easier to take you seriously..." Fresh laughter escaped between her words. "...when you aren't wearing women's
bloomers."

I planted my hands on my hips and blew out my breath in utter frustration. I didn't have to look in the full-length dressing mirror to know I looked ridiculous.

For the first time in my life, I was wearing a corset and bloomers. A pair of medium-sized cantaloupes had been stuffed into the top of the corset, simulating breasts. My goatee had been shaved, my eyebrows plucked, and a layer of white powder applied to my face.

What in God's name was I
doing
? For a moment, as I stared at my image in the mirror, I entertained second thoughts. I could not escape the feeling that I had somehow gone astray, that I had stepped outside the bounds of rational behavior.

But the feeling didn't last. The clarity of my mission welled up within me. I knew with great conviction that what I did, I did for sound and irrefutable reasons.

Gathering up what dignity I had left, I straightened my back and spoke with all the male power at my command. "If you are
quite
done with your girlish silliness, can we
get on
with completing this regalia?"

Lady Crenshaw quivered, barely able to stifle her laughter. "Yes, yes, of course. Let us finish your kit."

Clearing my throat, I clasped my hands behind me and nodded. "Let's try on the dress, shall we? The blue one?"

"V-very good." Lady Crenshaw was still quivering. "And then the wig?"

I raised my bare chin, admiring the lines of my newly shorn face. "I should think so, yes."

"And then your elephant gun, please," said Lady Crenshaw.

"Elephant gun? Whatever for?"

"So you can blow my
head
off," said Lady Crenshaw, "as I am
fairly
certain that's the
only
way you'll keep me from
laughing
myself to death!" And then, with that, she dissolved once more into uproarious hysterics.

*****

I had a strange feeling as I strolled along the cobblestone street in my wig and dress. Not just the excitement of disguising oneself, the anticipation of infiltrating a new territory where one isn't supposed to be.

It was more than that somehow. An extra shiver that came with doing something forbidden, crossing a line I'd never crossed before. The thrill of breaking a taboo that was fundamental to the very concept of my self and the society in which I lived.

I was dressed as a
woman,
for heaven's sake. And so far, in the many blocks I'd walked from Lady Crenshaw's apartments,
no one
had seemed to twig to my deception.

Women had smiled politely and nodded as I passed. Men had doffed their hats and bowed. Some had cast frankly appraising looks in my direction.

It was, by far, one of the strangest experiences of my career as a wanderer. For someone who has traveled the globe, crossed into other dimensions, visited other planets, and jumped both backward and forward in time, that was saying something indeed.

One thought dominated my mind: I was dressed as a woman, and no one could tell the difference.

Except my companion, of course, but she'd helped me accomplish this masquerade. "I must say, you're cutting a fine figure, darling." Lady Crenshaw, who was walking beside me, elbowed my ribs gently. "You seem to have something of a natural
talent
for this."

I chose not to respond to her remark. Her quips could be an annoyance, thought I was glad for her company. Lady Crenshaw had asked to accompany me, saying she was worried I might hurt myself in this disguise. At first, I'd said no, but then had relented on condition of her restraining her laughter. So far, to my surprise, she'd managed to leave out the hilarity in favor of cool detachment.

Mostly. "You might just be making a more favorable impression than
I
am." Lady Crenshaw let out a little giggle. "After all,
you
got that strapping young attorney's
calling card
back there, didn't you?"

I sighed. "Simply the power of suggestion, darling. All we did was set the table, and he filled in the blanks."

"Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" She giggled again. "Cheeky!"

"I only hope I shall be so convincing
in there.
" I gestured with one white-gloved hand at the familiar brick building we were approaching--the Female Protection Society. Three women walked in the front door as I watched, chattering among themselves--none of them my Bess.

"Just like hiding among the rhinos, dear," said Lady Crenshaw. "Act like you belong here, and hope no one notices the horn's a fake."

"Ever the font of wisdom." I smiled at a passing businessman in a black suit and bowler, praying he wouldn't recognize me. The both of us were members of the Wanderers' Club. I'd been known to beat him roundly at snooker and darts, and he'd been known to drink me under the table.

As we drew near the Female Protection Society, two women strode out of a side street ahead of us. Instantly, my heartbeat accelerated, and my palms dampened within my gloves.

"There they are." Until then, I hadn't been sure they'd return to the same place at the same time two days in a row. "Bess and Mrs. Whitaker-Bunyan. Right on time."

Lady Crenshaw quickened her pace. "Come along, dear."

I grabbed at the sleeve of her red velvet jacket. "No, wait! She might
recognize
me!"

"The power of
context
shall set you free. She would
never
expect to see you
here
and
thus.
" Lady Crenshaw tossed her head and fluttered her hands. "But if it makes you
feel
better,
I
will do the
talking.
"

The shin-high lace-up black boots I wore clattered on the cobblestones. "Slow down! This
petticoat
is bunching up between my
legs.
"

"The
things
you say, darling." Lady Crenshaw turned and grabbed my elbow. "I do believe you are
positively
one of our foremost
Romantics.
"

*****

Lady Crenshaw and I caught up with Bess and Mrs. Whitaker-Bunyan just as the panel in the door was sliding open. The nun's familiar gray eyes peered out, darting from one to the other of the four of us in quick succession.

Then snapping back to fix on me. And linger there as my heart thundered at the prospect of being found out.

Just then, Bess cleared her throat and spoke. "We've come for the ceremony, Sister. May we enter?"

The nun's eyes held mine a moment longer, then shifted to Bess. "Has someone told you that
patience
is a
sin?
"

Bess shook her head. "I hadn't heard that, Sister."

"Because it is a
virtue
," said the nun, and then the panel in the door snapped shut. "You'd do well to
practice
it."

For a moment, I feared she might not admit us...but the door lock cracked open, and the door swung inward.

Bess entered first, nodding to the nun as she passed. Mrs. Whitaker-Bunyan did the same, and Lady Crenshaw crossed the threshold behind her.

I half expected to be barred from entry, so it came as no surprise when the nun caught my elbow in her iron grip. She frowned up at me with a searching gaze of such intensity, I could have sworn I felt the heat of it stinging my face.

I held my tongue, lest my voice--which was familiar to her--give me away. Disguising it was the one thing we hadn't practiced...but if the nun asked me a direct question, I would have to improvise.

Lady Crenshaw chose that moment to intervene. "You see it, too, don't you, Sister?" Interposing herself between me and the nun, she hopped up on her toes and stared at my face. "You're not the
first
to notice her uncanny resemblance to the
Virgin Mary.
"

"No, no, no." The nun shook my arm. "It's something else entirely."

I tensed, preparing to make a fight of it. Bess and Mrs. Whitaker-Bunyan had already disappeared down the hallway. Perhaps, if I knocked the nun unconscious, I could yet follow my wife and ascertain her secret.

Fortunately, I was spared the trouble. "It's just...you're so very
tall.
" The nun smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You remind me of my
mother.
"

Relieved, I smiled and shrugged. The nun gave my elbow one last squeeze before releasing her grip.

"People thought she was an awful woman," said the nun. "But she wasn't at all what they expected."

"How unlike Henrietta here," said Lady Crenshaw as she drew me away. "She is
exactly
what you'd expect her to be."

*****

Lady Crenshaw and I hurried down the plastered hallway in the direction Bess and Mrs. Whitaker-Bunyan had gone. I'd lost sight of the both of them, though I suspected Lady Crenshaw had some idea of where they'd gone.

We passed door after door along the hall, many of them closed. Open doorways revealed tiny, candlelit rooms, little more than convent-style cells, each with one bed, one chair, and one woman. The women, glancing up as we rushed past, looked utterly lost and forlorn. Were they the victims of cruel circumstance, cruel men, or their own cruel natures? I had no way of knowing.

The hall hooked right at its far end, and Lady Crenshaw led me around the corner. More doors lined this leg, all of them closed but for one which was in the process of falling shut. Lady Crenshaw bolted ahead, moving remarkably fast for all the crinoline piled around her legs, and caught the door before it could meet the jamb.

Holding it open, she made a little bow and waved for me to enter. "After you, milady."

"Jolly good." I headed for the reddish light streaming out of the opening. "Bit of a role reversal, wouldn't you say?"

"Not if you judge a book by its cover," said Lady Crenshaw.

*****

The red light was pouring up from below, from a spiral stone staircase descending into the earth. I hesitated at the top, wondering what awaited us at the bottom...and then I started down. Lady Crenshaw followed behind me.

The smell of incense wafted up as I hobbled down the steps, clumsy in the high heels of the boots I was wearing. I kept one hand on the iron railing along the stone wall at all times, bracing myself in case my balance faltered.

It turned out to be a long way down. I counted twenty steps, then thirty, then forty, screwing ever downward into the underground. Always, the red light grew brighter, the incense stronger as we descended...and a clamor of voices rose to greet us, the sound of a crowd. Strange music also swirled up from below, a swell of skirling pipes and fiddles and instruments I couldn't identify.

By the time we reached the bottom, I'd counted ninety-nine steps. Thus ensconced in the bowels of the earth, I stepped forward, casting my eyes over the startling scene before me.

How many times had I set foot in utterly strange settings far removed from everything I knew and held dear? How many times had my heart shuddered in my chest as I gazed upon a bizarre tableau that cast a queer new light on all my assumptions about the universe?

Yet here I was again.

Lady Crenshaw and I stood on an elevated rim at the edge of a vast cavern hewn from the rock. The bowl-like floor of the cavern was filled with an enormous crowd of people, stretching from wall to wall.

All of them, from what I could see, were women...women of all shapes and sizes and colors and nationalities. Women dressed in every style of feminine garb I could imagine, from the corseted dresses of London and Western Europe to the sarongs of India, from the kimonos of Japan to the fur coats of the Eskimos, from the bowlers and serapes of South America to the buckskins and feathers of the American Indians. It was a veritable international
army
of women, all of them suffused with the crimson light that had drawn us from above.

I could not hope to count them all in that moment, but I estimated that there were thousands, tens of thousands, all encircling a distant dais in the center of the cavern. All watching a single figure on that dais, a woman, all listening to her voice as it echoed throughout the vast space.

At first I thought she might be Countess Calypso, but no. I couldn't be sure if she was anyone I'd ever known. I couldn't understand a word she said, either. She was speaking some kind of foreign language, one I didn't recognize. That alone amazed me, because I'd thought I'd known every language on Earth.

Not that the women in the cavern seemed to have any trouble understanding. As the woman on the dais shouted rapid-fire jumbles of alien words, the crowd around her clapped and cheered and shouted back at her using the same language.

Bess was no exception. I saw her up ahead at the edge of the crowd, alongside Mrs. Whitaker-Bunyan. As I watched, Bess clapped her hands overhead and called out in response to what the woman on the dais was saying. I shuddered, unaccustomed to hearing the words of an alien language emerging from my own dear wife's ruby lips.

I turned to Lady Crenshaw at my side and leaned close, speaking into her ear. "What are they saying? I don't understand a word of it."

"You wouldn't, would you?" Lady Crenshaw raised one eyebrow and looked at me with a considering gaze. After a moment, she seemed to come to a decision, and her expression softened. "
Lingua femme,
we call it. The language of women. A way for women to communicate no matter where they come from or what the dominant language of their homeland might be."

I scowled at her, taking it all in. "This
lingua femme
...you've
known
of it all along?"

Her smirk had a trace of playfulness around the edges. "Among other things, darling."

My mind was working overtime as things started falling into place. I was afraid to ask the next question that occurred to me, afraid to hear the answer from her lips. "Undine." A bitter chill pervaded my body. Cold sweat trickled between my shoulder blades and down my back between the corset and my skin. "Have you been to this place before?"

Lady Crenshaw giggled. "Now, darling." She hooked her arm around my elbow and led me toward the crowd. "How many times have I told you about asking
questions
when you already know what the
answers
will be?"