Through time; The ripper

Skipping the corset

*Lily*

I awaken to the smell of leather and old books, a musty scent that clings to the air like a cobweb. My eyelids flutter open, and I find myself sprawled on a fainting couch, the kind one might expect to see in a Victorian novel… deep maroon upholstery with gold accents. The room is dimly lit, but I can make out the outlines of dusty shelves filled with books and curiosities.

My head feels heavy, and I groan softly as I sit up, trying to shake off the lingering fog of unconsciousness. That's when I see him… Leo, his expression of concern is quickly being replaced by relief. He’s standing nearby, arms crossed, looking every bit the brooding hero from a storybook.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You had me worried for a moment.”

“Where am I?” I ask, my voice hoarse, and the reality of my situation crashes back in like a tidal wave. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” he replies, stepping closer. “Miles can be a bit overwhelming at times, but you’re safe now. We’re still at Scotland Yard, or rather, a smaller branch of it… a back room used when people doesn’t have time to go home for a rest.”

I shake my head slightly, trying to collect my thoughts, “How long were I out?”

“Hours… it’s morning now,” He smiles slowly. “When you started snoring I assumed you had slipped into slumber.”

“I do not snore,” I huff.

He raises a brow, but changes the subject, “So ready for a day in Victorian London?”

I take a moment to process his words, my heart pounding as I remember the newspaper, the date, and the notion of Jack the Ripper lurking in the shadows. “This is insane,” I mutter, more to myself than to him. “I’m in 1888. This can’t be real.”

“It’s real,” Leo says gently, kneeling beside me. “And we need to get you changed. You can’t go wandering around in your modern clothes. It would draw too much attention.”

“Changed?” I echo, my voice rising in pitch. “You mean like… period clothes? This is absurd!”

“Well here we just call it clothes,” he grins, then his eyes turn serious. “It’s for your own safety. I’ve already procured something for you.” He gestures to a nearby screen, which stands like a sentinel guarding my modesty. “You can change behind that.”

I sigh, my mind racing. Is this really happening? Can I really just accept that I’m in a different time? I glance at the screen and then back at Leo. “What exactly did you get for me?”

“Just some simple attire that will help you blend in,” he replies, standing back to give me privacy. "Something fitting of a lady from… I guess you would call it the middleclass.”

I take a deep breath and nod, my resolve hardening. I may be in a different time, but I’m not about to let fear dictate my actions. I rise slowly, feeling the remnants of dizziness, and I make my way to the screen.

Once behind it, I peel off my modern clothes, the fabric feeling strange and foreign against my skin. I take a moment to examine the garments Leo has chosen for me. The dress has a corset-like top and a rather wide skirt, made of soft, muted fabric. It’s adorned with delicate lace at the cuffs and a modest neckline.

This dress is nothing like what I’d wear back home, but it’s also beautiful in its own way. I decide to keep my own underwear on… there’s a level of comfort I refuse to give up entirely. So I skip the corset and shorts-like panties.

Pulling on the silk chemise I look at the rest and realise that the skirt is wide due to the number of underskirts and things that goes under it.

“What is this?” I stick my head out the side of the screen, showing Leo this weird pillow like thing with straps.

His cheeks flush slightly pink. “I believe that is a bustle.”

“A what?” I look at it. “What is that for?”

“Uhm you tie it around… like under… “ He looks like he would rather be dissecting a dead body than explain this.

I smile, “Breathe Leo, remember not a Victorian miss, you can say it, I won’t be offended.”

“Under the dress, you tie it around the waist and the pillow gives more fullness on the… back.” He manages.

“So a strap on ghetto bootie.” I look at it. “Can I just skip it?”

He clears his throat. “Probably you should consider your language… and no, the dress won’t look right without it.”

“Drat,” I mumble and duck back, fumbling to get it placed right, and then start putting on the petticoats.

When I reach for the dress I realise I forgot the stockings, but those need the corset. Then I realise no one will see my legs and feet so I just keep on my socks with the kitty heads on.

I wriggle into the dress, the fabric brushing against my skin in a way that feels strangely empowering. I catch a glimpse of myself in a dusty mirror propped against the wall. The reflection staring back at me is so different, yet somehow, it feels like I’m stepping into a role, a character in a story that’s yet to unfold.

“Are you ready?” Leo calls from the other side of the screen, breaking my reverie.

“Almost,” I respond, adjusting the bodice and smoothing the fabric down. I take a moment to steady my breathing, reminding myself that I’m not just a character in this story… I’m living it. I put on the boots like shoes.

With a final tug to ensure everything is in place, I step out from behind the screen. Leo’s gaze sweeps over me, and I see a flicker of approval in his eyes.

“Well that hair won’t work,” Miles says as he comes in the door.

I reach up to touch my hair, “Why?”

“Only a harlot would wear her hair loose on the streets.” He says. “Luckily I can help you.”

“You can?” Leo and I say at the same time.

Miles just grins, and point to a chair at a vanity, “sit.”

He grabs a brush and starts, “lets keep it simple.”

About a quarter of an hour later my hair is pulled back into an effortlessly elegant chignon, with a few loose curls framing my face.

“Wow, you actually are good,” I tell Miles.

“Don’r forget this,” Leo holds out something, and Miles takes it, using it to cover most of my hair.

I groan, “A freaking bonnet? "Seriously?"

“Language,” Leo shides. “And no respectable lady goes out without a hat. This was kinda the smallest I could find.”

“What is I do not care to look like a respectable lady?” I mumble.

Leo sighs, “Then people won’t show you respect… and you will reflect badly on my reputation.”

I half roll my eyes and look in the mirror. Okay, it actually does make me look kinda feminine and pretty, but of course I am not gonna admit that.

“You look like you belong here,” he says, and I can’t help but blush slightly.

“Let’s hope that’s true,” I reply, my heart racing. “What’s next?”

He gestures toward the door. “I need to head out and gather information. The more I know, the better my chances are of keeping you safe. I thought maybe you would join me.”

I nod, a new determination igniting within me. “Then let’s do this.”

After telling Miles we will be back later, we step into the foggy morning streets of London.