Tilly (1981)
“intoned the duchess. “Hand me my reading spectacles, Tilly.”
Tilly complied and settled back in her hard chair to endure yet another of the duchess’s committees. “Don’t slouch,” hissed the duchess, and Tilly jerked her spine bolt upright. The duchess had taken to strapping Tilly into a backboard for two hours each day to “stiffen her spine.” And, as if the mahogany slab were not enough agony, a violin string was tied around Tilly’s shoulders so that it cut painfully into her flesh if she so much as moved an inch.
The Taking Over of Tilly had started the day after the ball and Tilly tossed and turned at night, tortured by dreams in which the duchess’s great, hairy, disembodied face mouthed, “Don’t slouch!” over and over again.
The committee meeting was taking place in the boardroom of a home for Disreputable Women. The duchess and her equally militant companions would often drive about the streets in search of disreputable women and, having found them, thrust them triumphantly into a home.
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