Emma Knowles laid out her writing instruments on her desk. The quills, ink pots, and other stationery accouterments were neatly arranged for maximum efficiency and accuracy. As a member of the Dames for Decency and Social Health, her job was of utmost importance.
At week’s end, every Friday she received a package that contained a set of periodicals, newspapers, catalogs, and other publications. It was her job to carefully peruse these publications for any sign of funny business, as her friend Annabel would say. Should she find any signs of it- images or words- then she would flag the offending item and write a brief report on the matter. Which she did without fail every Friday afternoon.
Not that she was a prude, mind you, but the depravity of humans, and males in particular, knew no bounds. Sneaky devils. She still remembered the time she found the voluptuous table legs in the Gentleman’s gazette. They had been clearly manipulated to resemble a lady’s body. Or the time they included the carnal orchids in an article about how to keep a wife happy. Such crass creatures, men. She redoubled her efforts, making it her duty to keep the fair public from being polluted by their baser perversions.
As usual, there was a knock on the door, she paused in front of it, took a deep breath, slightly turned up her nose, and opened it.
Mr. Reginald, the delivery porter, greeted her politely, informed her of her package, gave her a quill to sign a form, and then handed her the package.
“Thank you, Mr. Reginald,” she said.
He tipped his cap. “Mrs. Knowles. Have a great afternoon.”
And that was that. The transaction was quick and efficient. A man like Mr. Reginald knew his station and did not attempt to fraternize or engage in chit-chat with gentile ladies.
The light in her work room was a little dim, so she drew the curtains aside and let a few rays into the room. Setting the package on the desk, she unwrapped it, and without further ado, she began to peruse her assigned publications with quill in hand.
She examined every little detail. The images, the motifs, the flourishes, and symbols. She even turned them upside down lest some mischief had been printed in that manner to fool the unwary and titillate the rascal.
Minutes turned to hours and soon the light outside began to glow golden pale. She had crossed every item on the list, though funny enough, there was still one left on the desk. It was a small folio, leather bound, and embossed with delicate floral motifs. She ran her fingers along the leather, noticing how delightfully fussy it fell on her fingertips. Odd, she had never seen this publication before. There was no title on the front, so she turned the cover and opened the first page.
Her face went pale. For a moment she felt faint. She sat up straight in her chair and blinked not really believing what she was seeing. She was looking at an ornate page, imprinted with colorful curlicues, flowers, and grapes.
THE HARLOT
The words were written in bold golden-red letters across the top.
She turned the page and saw that it contained several illustrations neatly arranged in panels. Each panel showed a scene that together wove a narrative. Upon close examination, Mrs. Knowles saw that the pictures told the story of a princess lost in a castle. She walked up a spiral staircase until she reached the top and entered an old room full of cobwebs and broken things. The princess perused the items in the room, and in an old wardrobe, she found a dress. The dress had a most unusual design, and when the princess put it on, it began to glow with a supernatural light.
Emma turned the pages, her heart beginning to skip beats, her breathing turning shallower- the princess had fallen under some spell because of the enchanted dress, and soon, all the men in town were vying for her attention and affection. The graphical panels became more colorful and bold. Soon, the princess was engaging in all manner of sensual pecadillos with any man she could get her hands on, even married ones. It was truly scandalous. Emma could scarcely believe her naked eyes.
How could the Dames send her something this vile to review? Surely, a mistake had been made.
From a drawer, she took a blank sheet of correspondence paper and dipped her quill in the ink. The pointy nib hovered shakily over the page… how could she explain the issue in the most delicate manner? Her gaze fell on the opened folio, on a page where the princess was cavorting in a barn with a farmer.
Emma closed it shut. The leather felt soft between her gripping fingers.
How utterly ridiculous! She thought. Contemptible. That a lady would cast her eyes upon such vulgarity. What will people think? Not that it had been Emma’s fault, but oh the shame of it. How could she explain it away?
Perhaps it would be better, she thought, if she kept her counsel and inquiries to herself. The error would sort itself out and none would be the wiser.
She took the leather-bound folio and locked it in her safety box behind a bookshelf.
By the time Friday arrived, she had almost forgotten about the book, but to her surprise, she saw that there was another copy of the leather folio in her assigned package. She opened it and saw that just like the last one, it was full of explicitly sensual illustrations. The images continued the adventures of the randy princess. The drawings left little to the imagination as the princess caused quite a stir throughout the kingdom in her enchanted saucy dress.
Emma was mortified. Surely, she couldn’t tell anyone now. What would they think of her? Her mind polluted, she might as well have caught the plague. So, she decided it would be wise to stash this volume away as well, and keep it safe until things got properly sorted.
Two more illustrated folios arrived the following two weeks. Each one filled with outrageous illustrations. In the story, the princess had basically slept her way through the realm with every man available, but now, it was time to find a single man that would be her husband and king. The story was left unfinished.
Face flushed, she filed away the latest installment in her secret hiding place.
On the following Friday, she rushed to the door when the delivery porter arrived, and her heart nearly stopped when after finishing signing the form, Mr. Reginald said, “it looks like you have an extra package this week, Mrs. Knowles. Gonna have to sign for that one too.”
She did so, and mystified by the second package, she also took it into her study. First, she opened her assigned publications and saw the familiar leather folio in the pile. Eagerly, she reached for it and flipped to the first page.
Blank. So were the second and the third pages. The panels had been drawn, but there were no illustrations on their canvass. Each one was simply empty.
She closed the folio and slammed it on the desk. What kind of twisted games was the sender playing?
Her eyes fell on the second package. It was bound by a red ribbon, which she cut with her scissors.
The paper wrappings made a pleasant crinkly sound. She opened it to reveal an extravagant dress. Green like in the story. She spread it and placed it against her body. It seemed the right length. Silky to the touch. She gathered the dress in a bunch and quickly rushed upstairs to try it on. She did so in front of the mirror, where she marveled at how well it fit her body. The measurements were accurate. Uncannily so. Its low collar made her blush.
Emma twirled this way and that. Raising her hair coquettishly to reveal the nape of her neck. She paced up and down the room then lay in bed. A beaming smile appeared on her lips as the sunlight streamed into the room and fell across her body.
What kind of woman would wear such a dress? She mused.
She knew the answer, but before she could utter it, she heard a knock on the door.
Rushing downstairs quietly, she peered through the peephole and saw Mr. Reginald standing outside her door.
Emma took a deep breath then with a sly smile, she turned the handle.
Mr. Reginald raised an eyebrow upon seeing her. He seemed about to say something then thought better of it. He cleared his throat, then nodding at Emma, he said, “looks like I delivered a package to the wrong address, Mrs. Knowles.”
He scrutinized her up and down.
“Oh that's too bad," she said leaning on the door, "I guess I better take it off and wrap it back up.”
She turned towards the stairs, then as she climbed the first few steps, she stopped and looked over her naked shoulder.
“It’ll be faster if you come up and help,” she said.
"Ay, madam," said Mr. Reginald, tipping his cap and stepping onto the floor of Mrs. Knowles' home for the first time in many years of service.
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