Easter Season
by Tigger, Copyright 2008, all rights reserved
Timeframe of this story: After "A Losing Season", but before "Tales of the Season: Darla's Story"
~0~
They might have been posing for the cover of Town and Country Magazine with the caption, "Ladies at Tea," albeit for an issue dated "Spring, 1952."  Three stylishly dressed ladies - one older, two 'not quite out of the schoolroom', - were seated in an elegantly decorated and sun-gilt room, reading and conversing over a tray of tea and cakes.
Jane Thompson savored the smoky aroma wafting from the steaming cup she held, 'just-so', in her right hand.  As always, Marie had sensed Jane's mood, and had prepared Jane's favorite Lapsing blend for afternoon tea.  The soothing brew helped the School Mistress relax in mind, body and spirit as she contemplated her plans for the remainder of their day.  
The lady of the manor was in her early forties - though she appeared years younger. Tall and slender, she wore her auburn hair in a tight chignon.  Flashing violet eyes gave her an aura of almost tangible personal power when she turned her attention to her two younger companions for this very formal high-tea. It was, she mused, a setting that would have looked decidedly more typical of 1952 than the current era; which was precisely as Jane had intended.
She first directed a question to the young, blue-eyed blonde - petite, outgoing and absolutely beautifull. In Regency England, she would have been called a Pocket Venus, and would have been the most sought after belle of her London Debut Season. 
 "Michelle, I believe you have a major writing assignment due this evening.  I'm looking forward to reviewing it with you after dinner."  
Perfectly in character, Michelle made a face. "Problems, Michelle?" Jane inquired - too sweetly.  "Perhaps you need more tuition to complete your assignments in a timely manner? Or perhaps you require some additional motivation?"
"Oh, no, I mean, I'm fine . . my work is fine, I mean. ."
Jane held her hand up. "Stop. Breathe. Think. Speak."
The Thompson Mantra had the intended effect - the blond girl flushed, but stopped. After a short pause, and a visible effort to compose herself, she spoke. "My assignment is nearly done, Aunt Jane.  I will be ready to go over it with you tonight."
"Now, wasn't that easier?" Jane approved before turning her gimlet eye on her junior student. "And your work, Miss?"
The remaining member of their little tea party was Rose Red to the other girl's Snow White, and had she been a debutante in Regency London, might have needed a substantial dowry to attract as many suitors as her blond friend. The quiet, brown-eyed, curly-coiffed brunette was tall for a girl, particularly in contrast to the tiny blonde. Still, she was attractive, particularly to those who appreciated Rubens' interpretation of feminine beauty.
	"I'm nearly finished with the history paper that is due day after tomorrow, Miss Jane," was the soft response.  "I need another reference for one of my argument points.  If I can't find it in our library tonight, I may need to impose on you or Marie for a trip to the University tomorrow."
	Jane nodded.  "I'd like to review your work thus far tonight after dinner, as well.  If I agree with your assessment, and you cannot find what you need here, I will take you tomorrow morning."
	"Thank you, Miss Jane," Veronica replied, and then returned her attention to the tea and finger sandwich on her plate.
Ever the teacher, Jane watched for any slip in their manners and deportment, and evaluated their adherence to the expected social norms and niceties. Happily for her students, she found nothing to correct in their presentation or behavior. They were, by any measure, sterling examples of genteel, refined young womanhood.
Except, of course, that neither one of Jane's charges were women – nor were they even female.  As had all her previous students at Seasons House, these young people both hid masculine secrets beneath their fashionable skirts, sweaters and lingerie. 
The petite blonde was Michelle (Michael) Nash, and he was the son of one of Jane Thompson's oldest friends and an earlier student of the Jane Thompson Method of Reform.  He was also the child of Jane's heart.  They'd come so far together, Jane thought, smiling inwardly.  He'd even begun to accept the value of what she did here with her boys.
So much so that he'd willingly delayed his return to St. Andrews Preparatory School to take up Michelle's skirts once more. Simply because his 'Momma-Jane' had told him that her newest student needed a big sister. 
And lord above, she thought, but this one had DESPERATELY needed a big sister - especially in the beginning. At just over five feet, ten inches tall, Veronica (Ronald) Brinkley was unusually tall for a Seasons House student.  Moreover, she was, well, the only word that politely described the child's figure was 'voluptuous.' In fact, she was surprisingly voluptuous, which posed some challenges to Jane, her partner, Marie, and most of all, to Veronica.  
Actually, the boy who had become Veronica had been seriously overweight on his arrival at Seasons House. Even now, after six months of rigidly managed diet and exercise, overseen by the Ladies of Seasons House, she was just now reaching a reasonably healthy weight for her height.  There was still, however, excess flesh about the waist that, thanks to Marie's artistic, yet stringent corsetry, gave the girl the illusion of bounteous pulchritude. 
	The corset compressed  girl's tummy flesh so that it had to go somewhere when Marie laced her up every morning. The old fashioned foundation garment favored by Victorians and Jane Thompson forcibly displaced the student's excess tissue upward and downward from her tummy.  This gave Veronica the illusion of a full bosom, womanly hips and a well-rounded bottom.  Marie gleefully compared the effect to what happened when a toothpaste tube was pinched in the middle - stuff tried to go out both ends. Well, Jane sighed, this girl had the flesh to go out both ends of the corset.
As a result, Veronica was the first student Jane had ever trained who really didn't need prosthetic augmentation or padding to look shapely. Once corseted, the boy-girl actually needed a bra for support. Initially, before she'd begun to take off the excess poundage, Veronica had required a larger cup-size than anyone else in the house! 
The possibilities Veronica's figure offered for Jane and her method were truly mind-boggling, and the Victorian School Mistress had been sorely tempted on any number of occasions to use that weapon. The image of the look at that boy-girl's face would have been PRICELESS! 
Unfortunately, that strategy was also very dangerous.  There was the very real possibility that an attack of that nature and magnitude on Ronald's adolescent male self-image might have been something from which he might never recover. 
	A younger, less-experienced Jane Thompson, might well have used that tool, but just as her students learned and grew in her keeping, so too had Jane learned and grown in the keeping of her students. There were other tools, less dangerous tools that would and had worked fine in the past and would do so again.  The process might take a little longer, but in the end, both she and the student would still win.
	Infinitely more importantly in Jane's view, however, is that the slower, safer route greatly reduced the possibility that either of them would fail.
So she had never so much as mentioned Veronica's rather prominent bosom to the girl; had never even drawn attention to them except to ensure that any clothing purchased for the girl fit properly and modestly. 
Now, thankfully, that sort of shock treatment no longer seemed necessary. Veronica had come a long way in her months at Seasons House - at least, insofar as the masquerade went she had. Jane could hardly believe what they had achieved with this child. More to the point, Jane couldn't believe what this student had achieved. Truly amazing, the satisfied teacher mused, considering that, in those extremely difficult early days, it had been all that Marie, Michelle and Jane could do to build up their own confidence in this one's ability to pull off the masquerade.
Seasons House – Six Months Earlier
"He's out cold, and Ma'amselle Michelle is watching over him on your spy TV sets," Marie reported as she walked into the parlor to find Jane pacing about the room in a complete dither. "The sleeping potion in the wine worked perfectly - again."
"What was Ruth THINKING??!?" Jane spun about to face Marie directly, her eyes sparkling with emotion. "THAT child," she said, dramatically sweeping her arm to point up the stairs where her new student slept, "Will NEVER successfully pass in public!"
"Oh, Jane, come now. Think of him as a challenge," Marie teased. "Apres la jolie Beth and Michelle, you've gotten lazy, eh?"
"What did you say?!? A challenge?! Try a disaster begging for a divine MIRACLE! My god, Marie, that boy has to weigh two hundred pounds if he weighs an ounce. How are we going to get him safely into public - as a GIRL! - without him being read? I don't think it's possible."
"Oh, pooh, so this one will be un petit peu difficile, and, oui, this transformation will probably take longer than usual to accomplish, but all is not so hopeless." At Jane's disgusted look, Marie giggled. "Oh, all right, so he won't be shivering in lingerie at Betty Franson's Style Shoppe anytime soon, but all is not so bad as you make out.  I mean, did you look at him closely?"
	"How could I not?" Jane demanded, rounding on her partner.  "The only things worse than his figure are his complexion and table manners!"  
	Marie gave a little Gallic shrug. "So he will take some extra time and work, but he has potential, I think. He's rather narrow at the shoulders, n'est-ce pas? And most of that bulk is not muscle, but soft tissue, eh?.  Once we get a nice, tight corset on him," the little maid giggled mischievously as her fingers twitched in happy anticipation, "Well, overeating will no longer be a problem.  In the meantime, our new soon-to-be ma'amselle will just be an overweight girl, not an overweight boy, eh? That may be something you can use to torment him, too."
"Torment HIM? How about HIM tormenting ME, Marie? YOU were only SERVING that abominable meal! YOU didn't have to suffer through that meal, didn't have to look across the table and stomach his utter lack of table manners," Jane flared.  "I was tempted to force-feed him the after dinner wine by the end of the second course just to have done with it and him. He didn't need a fork, only a shovel! It was disgusting to have to sit there across the table from him."
Marie gave a nonchalant, Gallic shrug and snapped her fingers. "Think of it as the condemned man's last meal, eh?" she said, dismissively, "I have faith that the Mistress of Seasons House could teach a baboon to use the correct fork given enough time, and you WILL have time with this one. C'est juste? His Maman was quite emphatic on that point, remember?"
"A baboon would start the program with better habits than our young Ronald, my dear." That unhappy thought led to another, and Jane's face went pale. "Heavens, do we have anything other than his own clothes that will be big enough to fit him?"
"I'll put something together. I've already found a robe for him - it's the only article of clothing left in his armoire now that I have his suitcases are locked in the attic.  Then we can use some bolt fabric to cobble together a wrap-around skirt, or maybe a sarong. Those will suit our purposes until I can get his measurements and have Betty Franson order something for us.  And just think! I'll be able to corset him every day!" The little housekeeper giggled wickedly, bringing a glimmer of a smile to Jane's face.
"Start with a heavy duty one," Jane offered. "Our regular foundation garments might not stand the strain."
"Of course. Shoes may be a problem," Marie observed, "but we'll contrive. We always do. A little toe pinching early on won't hurt him."
Marie's calm in the face of this student's many shortcomings was a balm for Jane's own mood, and as she relaxed, she began to consider ways to deal with the problem of a boy not suited to her usual program. "Now that you mention it, I think we will dispense with high heels. For now at least, in any case," She sighed. "Marie, I swear that child nearly tripped over his own feet twice at the train station and once while going in to lunch. He's either very clumsy, or he's a very good actor.  Since he can't know what we've planned for him here, I think we have to assume he really is clumsy.  Unfortunately, my usual solution to that problem is the ballet school, but we can't send him to Madame either. He'd be bigger than the boys, not to mention the girls.  No way could he hide in the back of the corps de ballet!"
Marie considered that, and then chuckled, earning the infamous Thompson eyebrow lift in reprimand. "I was just imagining 'her' doing a pas de deux with one of the young lads at Madame's school.  Reminded me of a Muppet show where Miss Piggy danced 'Swine Lake' with one of the other Muppets.  She squashed him."
"I think that would be a consummation devoutly to avoided, dear. The question is, what do WE do WITH him? There's no way to do the thirty minute costume changes with him. We don't have the necessary clothes and accessories in his size." Jane furrowed her brow as she reviewed the early program schedule in her head. "And I think we will eliminate the peroxide shampooing with this one, too."
"Oh? Why?" The look of shock on a boy's face when his hair turned platinum blonde was absolutely priceless, and something both women looked forward to early in a student's program at Seasons House.
"The color would look too startling against his complexion, such as it is, and that will draw attention. Too much attention, I think. If his coloration looks natural, then that aspect of his presentation as a girl won't tend to draw a second look.  Of all our students, this one's masquerade won't survive a second look."
"You say so, Jane. You want me to see what I can do about interim clothing for her?"
Jane closed her eyes and made a visible effort to bring her emotions back under control. Then she nodded. "Yes, please, dear. And then see what you can do about working up some healthy, low fat menus.  Perhaps we can at least help him learn to eat properly during his time with us." Then Jane's continence darkened as the memory of the just completed meal came back to her.  "Properly in ALL ways!"
The little brunette giggled. "Pauvre petit chou."
"Don't waste your sympathy on Ronald, Marie. Not yet, anyway. With the nonsense he's been pulling at home, he's well and truly earned whatever is in store for him here. Yes, indeed."
Seasons House - Present
Jane finished the last of her tea and set her cup down. Both students, trained to recognize the signal, looked up from their reading to give the Schoolmistress of Seasons House their full attention.
"Now that we have refreshed ourselves, Veronica, I believe you have your exercise session with Marie? Excellent. After you are finished with that, I will give you the remainder of the afternoon to complete the assignments you have due this evening." At their acceptance of this order, she smiled. "Excellent. I will look forward to reviewing your efforts tonight following your after-supper chores.  
"C'mon, Veronica, I'll help you get ready for your exercise class." Michelle said as they left the parlor. "Then I'll give my paper one last proof reading.  If you want, you can do a final read-through my report for me, after you get back, and I'll help you get ready for your presentation."
~-~
"BLAST! I just chipped a nail! I tell you, Ronnie, I love Marie, but she really laces you down, and she can't tie a decent knot to save her soul," Michelle groused, as she contemplated a good 45 minutes of nail repair before dinner. 
"You're telling ME!?" Ronnie retorted.
"Don't giggle, darnit! Suck it in and give me what slack you can to work with!"
"Yes, Ma'am," was the excessively meek response, earning the tall brunette a quick swat to her pantied bottom. "Yipe!"
"Serves you right," Michelle sniffed. "Almost there. Got it."
The rigid garment actually creaked as the heavy nylon cords released their hold.  "Ohhhhhhh, that feels SO good!"
"Hurry up, sweetie.  Tante Marie is waiting for you," Michelle scolded gently, holding up the loose, red satin top and pants set that her little sister wore for her Tai Chi lessons. They sure hung a good deal more loosely about her tall frame now than they had, what, more than half a year ago? 
Seasons House - Six Months Earlier
"I was right about coordination," Jane nearly muttered.  It had been a long, demanding day for all four residents of Seasons House, but particularly for the three co-conspirators gathered in Jane's parlor while the newly-named Veronica slept the sleep of the exhausted in her locked room. "Even if we had clothes that fit him, I mean, her, there's no way we dare put him into heels."
"_Her_, Momma-Jane," Michelle teased as she poured and prepared tea for the two older women, "Put HER into heels. You told me we HAD to use feminine pronouns for HER once we named her for Old Tom."
"I'm having a real problem seeing the 'HER' in that 'HIM' just now," Jane growled, as she reached for her glass of iced tea. Whether it was the unusually warm autumn night air slipping in through her window, or her current emotional state, the Mistress of Seasons House was actually perspiring. "And I honestly didn't believe that any child could be that uncoordinated."
"We've had clumsy children before, Jane," Marie put in as she accepted the cup offered up to her. "Merci, petite."
"Ballet worked for me, Momma-Jane, as an incentive to work harder at walking in heels and thus escape the Dance Mistress."
"As it has for many students, dear, but Marie and I don't believe that's the way for this one."
"You're that concerned about her weight?" Michelle asked, "About how that will affect her ability to pull off the masquerade?"
"That's certainly part of it," Jane admitted. "I don't want her hurting herself or hurting someone else. Plus, ballet is something we've done when the child had enough skills to pass in the relatively strict environment of Madame Allison's very regimented classes. It will be a long time before this one is even THAT girlish."
Michelle's brows went up as inspiration. "How about that trick you played on me? Promise him no skirts, but put him in very girly pants, blouses, tights.  He'd just look very effeminate in an environment where the cliché is for girlish boys."
Jane sighed. "I see two problems with that.  First, Allison's school is here in town, and we don't want even a girly-looking Ronald becoming too well known around here.  More importantly, even if we could find a similar school in say, Providence, I don't think we can trust this one with the other students' safety - not yet, anyway."
"I thought you said he wasn't violent," Michelle said softly. 
"He's not, at least not in the classic definition.  He is here because he is a practical joker - a very inventive one - but one who doesn't think out all the possible consequences of his little 'jokes'.  I'm afraid if someone were to tease him for his appearance, he'd retaliate with one of his ill-considered and often dangerous jokes."
"Dangerous? I haven't seen his record, Momma-Jane. What did he do that got him sent here? 
"Too many things. In one case, he snuck into the girl's locker room during cheerleader practice and coated the toilet seats with silver nitrate.  Evidently that particular chemical penetrates the skin easily to the sub-dermal layer and leaves behind a black stain that won't wash away and takes literally weeks to wear off. It's almost like a tattoo."
Marie's eyes went wide as the vision of the cheerleaders who used the bathroom flitted through her mind, but it was Michelle's stifled giggle, "Talk about doing the Black Bottom Stomp at the next dance," that drew Jane's ire. 
"And if one of the girls who spent the next month with chemically blackened bottoms had been allergic or unusually sensitive to that particular compound?" she demanded softly. Her child's face fell in shame and Jane nodded. "Just so. He didn't think of that, either. Fortunately, he lucked out and nothing too serious happened.  The final straw, however, the so-called 'joke' that got him before Judge Ruth, could have killed someone, but he lucked out there, too. He put a cherry bomb into one of his teacher's desk drawers, with a crude little electrical device connected to fuse so it would explode when the drawer was opened. This was a teacher he professed to like, if you can believe that."
"Momma-Jane," Michelle said carefully, "Why was that the final straw? I mean, firecrackers in desk drawers is a fairly common gag at St. Andrews. They make a lot of noise, the teacher jumps and the kids laugh. No big deal."
"No big deal?" Suddenly hard, violet eyes speared into Michelle's cornflower ones. "We will discuss YOUR participation in such 'gags' later, Miss. In this case, it wasn't a firecracker; it was a cherry bomb, and unfortunately, one that had more than the expected charge of explosives. The wooden front of the drawer was splintered, driving several long shards of wood into the teacher's hand. She refrained from pressing charges, but the school quite correctly expelled him."
"If she didn't press charges, how did he get sent here?" Michelle asked quickly.
"The law says a child of Ronald's age must attend school, even if they are not allowed in with the general public school population for misbehavior. In that jurisdiction, the family court handles the referral of such students to other programs. That Ruth her chance at him when she presided over his alternative school assignment hearing.  And don't think I don't recognize that as a rather weak attempt to deflect my attention from your evident participation in such foolishness, young lady!"
"Okay, I suppose it isn't all that funny," Michelle murmured as Marie nodded enthusiastically. "And I haven't done anything like that since I was first sent to you! So, I suppose that Ronald thought you were the lesser of the two evils, eh?" Jane nodded regally eliciting a giggle from her student. "Of course he did. I guess you're worried she might try something at the ballet class? Like what Ronald did to that teacher?"
Jane nodded. "And I simply can't take the risk.  Think about it, dear, something slippery spilled on the floor, or wiped on the girls' toe shoes? An unthinking practical jokester like this one might see that as the classic "slip on a banana peel" slapstick prank."
Marie closed her eyes at the mental image. "Except on a ballet floor with girls just learning to dance en pointe, someone could be seriously, seriously hurt."
"Just so," Jane agreed. "I'm positive that the idea of such a prank would occur to our soon-to-be young miss, and equally positive the potentially hurtful outcomes would not. Not yet, anyway. We need - HE'LL need something else."
"It's Indian Summer outside - still pretty warm," Michelle put in.  "Some kind of conditioning program? Suppose I took her jogging or biking?"
"That might help with his. . .her figure, but it doesn't answer the coordination problem. Heavens, the child might get hurt tripping over her feet were you to take her jogging, and I cannot bear to think of what might happen were she to tangle her skirts in a bicycle chain."
"How about Tai Chi?" Marie asked.
"You want to teach THAT child a martial art?" Jane demanded. "NOW? When he's shortly going to hate the very sight of us?"
Marie grinned devilishly. "I'm not going to teach him any attack moves. Basic postures only. It will be like yoga except she'll have to move with me. It would be very good exercise for him. Tai Chi won't bulk him up but it will burn calories.  Besides, maybe we can use it as a motivational tool, as well."
The taller woman cocked a brow in query. "How?"
"We'll make sure he's strictly corseted whenever we're not practicing. If, no, make that WHEN he acts out, he doesn't get the privilege of practicing with me, and worse, gets to spend the whole day taking very short breaths. That will give us something we can hold over his head against his learning all his lessons and his good behavior, eh? I doubt he'll try anything cute more than once - especially if we REALLY lace him up tightly the first few times. Just to get his attention, eh?"
"But, Tante Marie," Michelle breathed, frowning up at her second mother, " I mean, you just said he's not in very good shape so he is already going to have a harder time here than I did, or as I understand it, most of your students did. Isn't that just a little evil?"
"Yes, it is," Jane declared, "Quite effectively so, too, I think." Then, she saw the uncertainty and concern clouding Michelle's face, and said aloud what her housekeeper already understood. "Marie, be careful with him. As Michelle said, he's not in very good physical condition and I don't want him passing out. Mind you, I do want to get his attention and show him that failure to comply with the program carries unpleasant consequences, but physical harm, even unintentional, is out of bounds."
"Consequences such as losing the privilege of being corset-free for daily Tai Chi?" Marie asked.
"Just so.  Give him a few days to begin to look forward to that momentary respite.  I'm sure I can find some reason to discipline him when the time comes."
Seasons House - Present
A great deal had changed since that warm September day, Michelle mused as she watched her little sister make her formal, ceremonial bow to Marie, even the weather. Easter was only a few short weeks away, but this was New England where spring often came late. Rhode Island's March winds were cold and damp, and their chilling bite kept the brightly outfitted pair indoors. The music room's dance floor was more than sufficient for their exercises, and more importantly, comfortably warm. 
Watching both players' smooth, graceful movements was yet more evidence just how far Michelle's little sister had progressed from her first, pitiful attempts at emulating Marie's practiced movements. As Jane had predicted, Sensei Marie's unwilling student had managed to screw-up a few days following that first Tai Chi class. Ronald had begun to grow less wary of Marie, and had rather vociferously balked at letting Marie 'help him' back into Veronica's corset.  Big mistake, thought the petite blonde, for Ronald's loud protests had brought Jane into the confrontation.
The still-daunting schoolmistress had been MORE than happy to 'help' Marie with the corseting. Four hands being better (and stronger) than two, the end result of that little contretemps brought home a very harsh lesson, indeed. Per Jane's direction, Veronica hadn't passed out, but it had taken the girl-boy several hours to learn how to breathe and move in the strict garment.
A week later, Veronica, with her corset removed only for that occasion, had very gratefully and attentively taken her next lesson in Tai Chi.
"Helped with a lot more than your physical coordination, didn't it, Sis?" Michelle Nash asked Veronica's back before heading up to her own room. Fellow conspirator though she was, Michelle knew better than to disappoint the Schoolmistress with a shoddy, incomplete homework assignment. 
	~0~
Jane glanced down at the invitation in her hand and then tossed it onto her desk. Lost in contemplation, she went over to the glass doors of her downstairs office. Her eyes gazed at the still-bare garden, but her mind really didn't register any of that.  Instead, she was fully focused on the possibilities and potentialities of that note.
It meant sending Veronica out into the world, ostensibly on her own, having her interact with young people her own age, as the girl Jane insisted she be and not as a boy. Her social skills had improved in the past six months, as had her deportment. And, certainly, her physical appearance was also markedly better.  Her manners and personal presentation were a bit old fashioned, to be sure, but that was as Jane intended and insisted for her students.  That was really not a problem in any case. Given who was sponsoring this activity, they would not be too out of place in that group while serving to protect her from the worst of Edith's nonsense. And yet- they would be just enough outside the norm for the other young people in attendance for Jane's student to be constantly aware of it and of her masquerade.
What were the possible consequences, Jane asked herself for what had to be the tenth time?  There would be young males in the group, of course, behaving as young males do.  The tall redhead picked up her teacup and sipped contemplatively. Again, the location should to mitigate against a youthful 'Battle of the Sexes' problem during the group get-togethers, and she or Marie could ensure that time before and after the meetings, outside the range of the adult supervision, could be kept to an absolute minimum.  From that perspective, it certainly posed less risk to her student than might the children's theatre or the Cotillion.
No, Jane mused, the real risk was that something might 'offend' her student - some insult, or worse, some supposed compliment on her still zaftig figure - not many girls that age were quite that curvy.  Would she retaliate? The girl was inventive, Jane remembered, and she was patient. 
Returning to her desk, Jane pulled Veronica's progress folder from her file cabinet. Opening it, she began to review her notes on the circumstances surrounding her student's last major incident.  That had also begun with an opportunity for a public excursion . . .
Seasons House - Four Months Earlier
Jane Thompson sat in the office of her private apartment at Seasons House, staring out the antique glass windows. Actually, there wasn't much to see. Mid-November was not New England's best time of the year.  It was too late for there to be any fall color left on the trees to brighten the skyline, too cold for any but the hardiest plants to blossom, and too early for the snow that would turn the vista before her into an inspiration for a Courier and Ives holiday card.
It was, in a word, dreary; a world gone gray and just a little bleak. Unfortunately, it was a scene that suited her mood. She was, Jane concluded, bored.
Ennui was all but unknown in Jane's experience. Her work in high finance and with her boy-girls had never before left her any opportunity for boredom. Well, now with several deals all in the 'wait and see' stage, there wasn't in that realm anything happening to excite her mercurial intellect.  Worse, there wasn't anything happening with her student except standard school work - REAL book learning, for heavens sake! Jane was bored, and it was not a welcome experience.
Veronica Brinkley had been at Seasons House for nearly a month and a half, and to be completely honest on that subject, had been doing rather well, given her unfortunate starting point, especially from a physical perspective. She'd lost about fifteen of the seventy-five excess pounds she'd carried on her five foot, ten inch frame. Just as importantly, with Marie managing the child's diet and exercise programs, and Jane strictly overseeing Veronica's regimen of personal hygiene, the teen's acne problem was finally showing significant improvement, as well.
However, despite her recent successes in those aspects of her person, Veronica was in no way ready for any public excursions.  She simply would not pass the 'no second look' test. Marie's assessment that the child would look like an overweight girl had been overly optimistic. For all the corseting they'd imposed on Veronica, finding stylish clothing in keeping with the standards of the Jane Thompson Academy was a hopeless cause. She had curves, all right, but even the Style Shoppe couldn't cover them tastefully, let alone elegantly. 
	And that was the key problem! To learn the lessons that the Jane Thompson Method taught in public places, the student had to be able to pass without notice or comment (at least from those people not in on Jane's program) IN public.  Over time, the style and presentation of a typical 'Jane girl' had become fairly well known about town.  So much so, that most of Jane's students never got a second look because what people saw was what they expected to see from a girl in Jane's company.
	Veronica would NOT be what the ordinary folks of the town expected to see walking with Jane Thompson down the streets of Kingston. She'd draw those second and third looks that might take in other anomalies about this student, and then people would start to talk. "My goodness, Laura, have you seen that new girl of Miss Thompson's? Why, I swear, she looks like a linebacker in a skirt. Not up to her usual standards, don't you know?"
	And then, everyone would be looking and talking until it was only a matter of time before the masquerade failed and the truth was out.  No, that was just too much attention and far too much comment for her safety or Jane's peace of mind.
The public outings were critical to Jane's Method because they put the students into highly stressful situations wherein acting out could cause them to be unmasked as boys pretending to be girls - a fate worse than death to most young American males. Jane carefully designed these highly emotional experiences so that her students had to find ways of dealing that emotion and stress in ways that did not put themselves at risk of discovery.
	For the most part, this wasn't as difficult as it might seem. Simple things became huge challenges when her charges faced the public en femme.  While she always ensured they had adequately mastered walking in heels beforehand, the mere act of walking from the car to the salon took on greater urgency when they absolutely believed that the slightest slip might lead to THE disaster or that the most casual passerby might recognize the cowering boy beneath the wig and makeup. Activities that were a part of any girl's formative years, were completely alien to her boys.  That meant they had absolutely no context for how to deal with shopping for clothes at a dress shop, how to behave during a morning spent at a beauty salon, or how to react to boys as girls when attending dances and other social events.  No, the hard part was protecting them from really making the slip that would give them away which was why Jane carefully chose where and when she took her girls out in public.
Of course, Jane's true goal for all the experiences she so-carefully orchestrated for her students was so that she could guide them out of whatever unacceptable behaviors had sent them to her in the first place. And she loved it – truly LOVED it - when in the fullness of their time with her, stronger, gentler young men stepped out of their sissy stockings and petticoats ready adult responsibility and citizenship.
Privately, however, Jane admitted that, at least in part, she relished every terrified look, every furtive glance, every little humiliation her method imposed on her student.  There was something intrinsic to her nature that keenly anticipated the thrilling little reactions she pulled out of their hapless male egos.  She loved forcing them to back down when every fiber of their beings wanted to rebel against one of her edicts. She loved their disbelief when, once settled in Sandy's salon chair, they were ordered to select their own 'new looks' from the Chalet's catalog of ridiculous 'big-hair' coiffures. She loved watching secretly as they shivered and quaked in their pretty undies while trying on the most outrageously frou-frou gowns Betty Franson could find for them.
At least, she had always loved all that before Michael and his attempted suicide after one such public excursion. That had certainly sucked the fun out of her little games.
The problem was that she still had to play those 'games' for her program to work! Without the public pressure to respond like the girls they were pretending to be instead of the hooligans they'd been, until they found outlets for the stress and pent-up emotion different from those that had resulted in his/her trip to Seasons House, they weren't ready to become big sisters and finish the program by helping another student learn the same lessons. Jane KNEW that what she did - had done - with her students WORKED.
What Jane did not know, because she had never before attempted it, was if a 'kinder, more gentle' version of her program - one without many of the hard-line stressors she had inflicted on her past students - would still achieve the same positive results.  Was it fair to Veronica to deny her the benefit of the proven program? To NOT to expose her to those delightful - Jane's mind stopped in horror as she realized what she'd almost thought - 'those delightful little humiliations'?
That was the crux of the problem, wasn't it?  However beneficial the experiences were for her past students, Jane enjoyed them because, at least in part, of the emotions and reactions they invoked.  Not a nice thing to acknowledge about one's self, was it?
Jane spun about and looked into the large mirror above the hearth.  She stared at the woman staring back from its silvered depths. "I could be flippant," she said aloud to her twin image, "And say that a person is supposed to enjoy their work, especially if the benefit of that work is a proven fact."
"Ah," but her mind heard the other Jane Thompson reply, "But that would be flippancy, which is not something you'd accept from any of those who wore your school's uniform all these years, is it?"
There was only one answer for that question, she knew. Sighing, Jane walked back over to her desk and picked up the notice she'd received in the mail just that very morning. Rereading the missive, it was all Jane could do not to sigh yet again. It was such a perfect.  Not even one year before, she'd have thrown Veronica into this activity without a thought.  It took place out of town, involved people that Veronica would likely never see again, and activities which would have all the participants so busy that little if any attention would be paid to anything but the tasks at hand.
Or to anyone.
Like a boy pretending to be a girl, and terrified that someone would find that out any moment.  Jane knew from years of experience how the event would play out for her student. Veronica would start off trying to hide, working as hard as she could so that she could avoid eye contact, and in the vain hope that the work would finish early so she could leave.  Some kind-hearted individual would take notice of the apparently shy, obviously hard-working youngster and try to strike up a conversation – or worse, send another young person over to chat Veronica up. 
Thompson-drilled manners would then force the girl-boy to respond.  That was the critical point, and one to which Jane needed to be sensitive. If that first contact went well, and they almost always did, the newcomer would integrate his/her new friend into the rest of the age-group working on the project whether Jane's student wanted to be integrated or not. 
Fortunately for Jane's program, there were not many people who, like Mark Twain's Judith Loftus, caught the subtle errors her boys made in their feminine presentation, and she very carefully screened out gatherings where traditionally feminine skills (such as quilting and sewing bees) were expected of girl participants. As a result, none of Jane's Huckleberry Finns had ever been caught out as be-skirted boys.
	Yet.
Thank the Good Lord!
But watching them think otherwise was part of the fun for Jane, which was why she was second-guessing herself now.  Was she considering this opportunity because it would be a useful learning experience for her student or because she was bored and thought it might be fun?
Until she could be sure, she couldn't bring herself to decide, and so she didn't; tossing the flyer into her desktop hold basket, before walking away.
She'd just have to step up the girl's training here at Seasons House, she mused.  Maybe it was time the girl experienced high heels.  Her coordination had improved under Marie's tutelage, and those new shoes in Veronica's size had been here for a week now.
	That thought brightened Jane's mood considerably, and she strode off to find Marie.  She'd fit the shoes to the girl and get her started off gently.  Sort of like teaching someone to swim in a wading pool.
	Then Jane could come along and push Veronica into the deep end.
	~0~
Scene Past - Jane loses Patience
Veronica turned to make yet another look of the upstairs hallway, Mr. Webster perched carefully on her head, when the hall clock pealed nine times. Nine PM, Jane thought wearily. Surreptitiously, while her student was turned away from her, Jane reached behind to rub at the growing knot in the small of her back. 
Michelle had gone home to the Hamptons to celebrate Thanksgiving with her Mother and Barbara's new husband. That left only Marie and Jane to watch over Veronica, and covering the hours when 'Big Sister' would have been supervising 'Little Sister', or when it would have been Michelle's turn to watch the closed circuit television, were beginning to wear on the two older women.
Nor were they the only ones who were feeling stressed and overtired at the moment. Veronica had been at this high-heeled walking exercise for the better part of an hour at the end of what had already been a long and difficult day. Jane could see the fatigue in the girl's body carriage as she struggled to move and still keep the dictionary balanced. Overworked muscles bulged beneath the nylon sheen of her hosiery as Veronica placed each foot down with exaggerated and muscle-tiring control. 
Jane was about to call a halt to the lesson when one of Veronica's heels landed on the decorative fringe of the Persian runner. Under most circumstances, with the relatively low heel and the very fine fringe of the rug, the worst outcome would have been Mr. Webster taking yet one more tumble to the floor.
This was not one of those circumstances. Veronica's still-uncertain balance combined with tired muscles to roll the shoe beneath the girl's foot and send her AND Mr. Webster tumbling to the floor.
Jane was at the girl's side in an instant. "Veronica, are you all right? Did you twist your ankle?" she demanded as her fingers probed for injury.
"WHAT do YOU care?!?" the furious teen snapped.
"I won't dignify that with an answer! Now tell me!" Jane snapped back, her own temper starting to simmer. "Are you HURT?!?
Veronica brushed Jane's hand away and she struggled to her feet. "I'm fine," she replied coldly. "Thank you so very much for asking. Now, if we could please complete the lesson? I'd like to go to bed."
"Don't get snippy with me, Miss, I'm still the teacher here!"
"Are you?" Veronica flared, exhaustion and pain loosening the controls she'd learned to keep on her emotions. "Are you REALLY? What is it you're supposedly teaching me, Ms. Thompson, and how does it relate to the reasons I was sent to this pretty pastel prison of yours?"
Anger, cold and bright, began to smolder inside the Mistress of Seasons House. "How about attention to detail, Veronica? Had you stayed on the carpet, as I directed, you wouldn't have fallen. How about consideration of the consequences of your actions? How about. . "
"And THIS," Veronica stormed back, her hands brushing down the shapeless dress that covered her still-large figure, "is supposed to teach me THAT?"
The derisive sneer on the girl's face threatened Jane's weakening control on her own emotions, but somehow she managed a soft, "It works, young lady. Trust me."
"Then you must be a one trick pony because this is all you've done and I haven't seen any good come of it. You say you're a teacher? That I've got to learn the lessons you have to teach? Fine, then teach ME - as I am - as ME!"
"My way works," Jane repeated, "And you gave me your word to do as I instructed."
"Fine," Veronica growled, "Guess that means you can't or don't know how to do it any other way. Must not be very good teacher if you have only one way to teach. Probably why you're not teaching in a real school. How do you know what works for one works for all? Haven't you ever heard of individual differences?"
Jane's temper exploded. This. . child had the unmitigated gall to question HER abilities? This overstuffed whelp DARED to impugn HER program? When she'd already tailored it - far, far beyond what she'd ever done for any other student - to the detriment of her own enjoyment of the experiences? "Go to your room, Miss.  Think very hard on your options tonight because tomorrow, you'll have to decide whether you wish to continue here or find some other alternative that suits the courts," Jane's voice went very cold and very soft, "Just a few more of those nasty little unforeseen consequences you seem to have to trip over to see, I suppose."
Teacher and student stood for several moments, glaring at each other, neither willing to be the one to break eye contact. Finally, Jane had had enough. "That will be all. You are dismissed."
The Schoolmistress watched her erring pupil mince to her room.  When the girl's door was shut, Jane walked over and activated the outside lock before going to her own rooms. Once inside, she strode to her phone and buzzed Marie.
"Yes, Jane?"
"Please go to Veronica's room and supervise her before bed ablutions. I know I said I would do it, but I've had my surfeit of her tonight.  Oh, and tomorrow morning? Assuming she renews her agreement to stay?"
"Renews her agreement?" the petite housekeeper broke in.
"Just so," Jane said stonily. "IF she agrees to continue here, I want her turned into a Victorian porcelain doll.  Make her outfit as uncomfortable as possible, please. And she's to be given the silent treatment. Moreover, any sound she makes will be noted and dealt with as I deem appropriate."
"Jane, what did she DO?"
"I'll tell you in the morning," Jane said. Then an item on her desk caught her eye. That would be JUST the ticket. "Oh, and Marie?"
"Oui, Jane?"
"Use the specially formulated cosmetics when you make up her face tomorrow. I want the whole shot. Fine, lined brows - thin them out, please, and Cupid's bow-lips, full lashes, heavy on the mascara and a nice Little Lord Fauntleroy Pageboy hairdo of pretty golden curls. I want her to fully understand the magnitude of the consequences of her actions tonight."
There was hesitation on the other end of the line. "You are sure, Jane, that this is necessaire?"
"I believe it is, Marie," Jane replied flatly.
"Very well. It shall be as you have ordered, Madame."
The line clicked as Marie broke the connection, leaving Jane staring at the handset.  Marie never called her 'Madame'. What was THAT all about?
~-~
The sharp knocking at her door brought Veronica quickly awake. Not that she'd been all that deeply asleep. She had spent a fitful night, more catnapping than sleeping, in part because of the confrontation with Ms. Thompson and in part because her calves were killing her from all that unusual exercise.
"Yes, Ma'am?" she called out, certain that it was Ms. Thompson knocking. Mademoiselle Marie knocked, too, but her tapping always sounded friendlier than Ms. Jane's demanding raps.
A glance at her clock told the teen that it was not even 6 AM yet, so she was surprised when both Jane and Marie marched into her room fully dressed. Scrambling from her bedcovers, Veronica reached for her robe.
"That will not be necessary," Jane said firmly, her face set in stern lines that had her student swallowing against a suddenly dry throat. "In a moment, Marie will help you dress in the outfit I have decided you should wear for the time being." Veronica saw the bundle of white and lace the dark eyed housekeeper cradled against her bosom and barely managed to contain a groan.
"Your behavior last night was unacceptable, Miss.  Therefore, I have decided that you are to spend today, at least, in a period of silent reflection. This," and Jane held up a small box with a wire dangling from it, "is a small radio which will activate whenever you speak.  Each incident of speech without my specific permission will result in your punishment being extended another day."
"But, suppose I NEED to speak, like there's a fire or something?"
A hard smile darkened Jane's face.  "Then, there had better be a fire. After you've reflected, we will have another talk. Depending on the outcome of that discussion, I will decide whether you will be allowed to continue here or be sent back to the courts to decide how you will be educated.  Is that understood?"
Veronica looked at the older woman for several moments, before acquiescing. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Excellent. Now, in addition to the absolutely charming outfit I have selected for you, I expect you to continue practicing your other lessons during your punishment. After Marie dresses and makes you up, you will refresh your makeup at least once an hour.  Failure to do so or failure to do so properly will have consequences. Unless you wish your future to be decided in the courts, I suggest you demonstrate your readiness to work with me by giving your best efforts to today's activities."
With that, the auburn haired fury swept out of the room, leaving Marie and Veronica behind.
Sighing, Marie set her bundle down on the bed. "Go and take your shower, cherie, and be quick about it," she ordered softly, "We have much to do before you help me with breakfast this morning."
~-~
Marie winced as she watched Veronica pull the small cosmetics case from her purse, and then use the compact's small mirror to redo her face. Each stroke of the lipstick, each brush of shadow and each touch of rouge set the cosmetics' pigments deeper into Veronica's skin. That, in turn, lengthened the time they would require to wear off. Marie wasn't sure what Jane had in mind - her friend had been unusually evasive when questioned on that subject - but the little housekeeper knew it would involve a public outing.
That prospect frightened Marie.  A similar outing for Michael had nearly gotten the boy attacked, and had been one more step to his attempting suicide in this very house. The softhearted housekeeper felt a shudder run down her back at the memory.  Whatever was Jane THINKING? Didn't she remember?
Veronica looked up at Marie and would have spoken had the older woman not immediately put her finger to the girl's mouth. The student's eyes went wide, and then filled with gratitude when she realized what Marie had just averted.  Then, she used her hands to indicate her face and raised one very finely plucked brow in query.
Marie surveyed the dollish face carefully and then nodded her approval.  She'd done what she could to minimize the effect Jane obviously intended. Hopefully, her little trick would limit the damage, but it couldn't prevent the long-term cosmetics from working completely. After all, she had not been able 'pretreat' Veronica's lips, and the repeated applications Jane had directed of the rouge, eye shadow and eyeliner would lessen the efficacy further, but it was the best she could do until Jane cooled off.
In the meantime, she'd try and help advance that by talking to Jane again.
~-~
Her ears still burning from the scolding Marie had just delivered, Jane entered her student's room and was barely able to contain the urge to gawk at the figure oh-so-carefully sitting on the very edge of the vanity stool. The gown and pinafore were right out of an illustrated edition of Jack and Jill, and - good heavens, Jane wondered, how MANY petticoats had Marie put on the girl?  Quite a few if the straining bell shape of the skirt was any indication, but for all that, it was the teen's face that caught and held the older woman's attention.
As she had directed, it was the face of a classic Victorian doll. Vivid circles of red ornamented each cheek, matched only by the bright ruby richness of the exaggerated 'Clara Bow' lips. Dark purple eye shadow covered each lid from heavily mascara-ed lash to finely lined brow.  But it was the 'foundation' that set it off.  Marie had evidently taken Jane's direction of 'porcelain' to heart, for she'd over-painted the girl's features from color to hairline in white stage paint. It was, Jane marveled, a remarkable effect.
Veronica watched her 'guest' with quiet intensity. Jane knew there had to be a hundred questions on her student's mind, but the child held her tongue.  Not once in the eight hours since the device had been set had the alarm indicating Veronica had broken her silence gone off.
Inwardly, Jane was fuming. This was NOT at all how she had planned this little exercise, but Marie so very rarely took exception to any element of Jane's program, that she had to consider that carefully.  Especially when her French Canadian friend became quite that direct.
And loud.
Well, there was no way around it now. She'd told Marie she'd end it, and so she would.  "I have reconsidered the incident last night, and have concluded that fatigue may have been the cause of your lamentable behavior," she told the teen curtly. She would NOT, however, admit that, as Marie had contended, that the fatigue was due to Jane forcing the child to overdo in any way. 
Nor would she concede that her reaction (Marie said 'over-reaction') might also have been the result of her own fatigue. 
"Your period of silent reflection is over, Veronica. You may speak freely again. You will clean up and dress for dinner in your usual clothes.  We will discuss your reflections tonight at dinner."
Then, the school mistress spun on her heel and stalked out of the room.
~-~
[bookmark]
dinner, Jane (still angry) apologizes, and says that, if he can behave properly at the outing she has in mind, she will reconsider her plan of action.  He cannot cut his hair, as it is necessary if he fails and he must wear the waist cincher to curb his appetite as he still needs to lose weight, but other than that.  Although he should wear clothes to get dirty in and that will protect his arms.
ends up in coveralls, long sleeve shirt, very feminine 'workshoes' (only work clothes we have on hand for someone of your . . .'size'.)and a ponytail.  plus the residuals of the long lasting cosmetics and the very fine brows.
M: "He looks like an overtall 8 year old girl getting ready to play in the dirt."
J: except her breasts are bigger than yours or mine.
M: should I loosen the stays? it will make them less obvious.
J: No.
Working in a park/garden cleanup for Thanksgiving.

Scene - Cleanup at Roger Williams Park - Michelle to the Rescue
Marie calls Michelle who shows up in jeans and a sweater to 'protect' her little sis.  Deflects most of the male attention, gets her to introduce self as 'roni' - ie., a big girl, not an effeminate boy as Jane intended.

Scene - Michelle reads the Riot Act to Jane while Marie Cheers
Ill-advised - who was watching out for Ronnie? if he'd gotten in trouble, could Jane have pulled him out in time? How?  She did great, btw. . .
	After, Jane still pleased with how Androgyne outing in Providence went. Child did well, interacted well, didn't act out even when teased about looks.
thanksgiving planned as something of a rite of passage. 
V needs to make the point that this was 'unfair'. Before or after the fact?  Probably after.
leads to practical joke for Turkey Day
~-~
Scene - Jane Quandry Resolved - Extra Time from now on.  Makes the first approach.  Speak to me, child.  I promise I won't punish you for honesty. You cannot win a battle with me, but if we work together, we can both win.

Scene Present Jane, Marie and Michelle decide to do the Edith White Project as public outing for Veronica

Easter Edith Chapters

Easter - Vicar at Seasons House

Easter Hospital Trip
Easter - Veronica 'outed' by Vicar
Climactic scene? What?