The Visit
by
JulieDCole

Chapter II

Robert stared in horror. It seemed to him just then as if the reflection of his aunt in the mirror was indeed that of himself grown instantly and mysteriously old.

For now, whether because the reversal of the image by the mirror or because of that perfect duplication of his own characteristic pose and gesture, the likeness had flashed out clear and unmistakable. He saw that his father had been right. Once, incalculable ages ago, he felt that this old woman might well have been very like himself that brought a shiver down his spine.

He slipped quickly out of the room and ran upstairs as fast as his tight breeches would allow. He felt that he must instantly put that question to the test and search himself for the signs of coming age as he had just searched his aunt’s face for the indications of her former youth.

But when he scrutinized his reflection in the tall cheval glass, the likeness appeared to have vanished. He saw the normal reflection of a young and slim man, blond hair pulled neatly back and secured with a black velvet bow and his head thrust a little forward with a small upturned nose, slight chin and moist lips. But there was also there was indeed some presence of a young woman, in his whole pose. When he placed his hands on his hips his feminine side was accentuated and in a way this seemed to be more of his natural stance. He looked at his expression and whole projection and the long coat suited his slender features. There was also an air of vigorous defiance much like he had seen in his aunt.

Since he was so entranced by his appearance he was at least now prepared to accept his aunts comment and admit that he might be viewed a handsome young man or perhaps he could easily be mistaken for an independent and beautiful woman . He looked attractive in either guise perhaps, yet whatever, no semblance of his mother who perhaps was not so beautiful as his aunt might have been in younger days as a working woman. But she had been a loving, caring mother and a good wife so he concluded it was an unnecessary comment of a jealous aunt, not married and wihout child.

At that moment, if the semblance was more of the other person that he had seen downstairs then he definitely might age as she had done with no softness to hold on to, or kindness in her eyes, an aged look with beauty faded long ago. No, surely No!

He drew himself up to give himself a little more confidence, more than a little relieved by the result of his test. The likeness was all a fancy he reckoned, the result of suggestions, first by his father and then by Miss Deane herself. And he need at least have no fear that he was aging yet so he might find happiness and a partner and income enough in life to keep his youthful zest and feed from happiness.

He removed the bow and let his hair hang loose and shook his head to bring it back to life. His aunt was surely wrong. With longer hair and some powder on his cheeks why couldn’t he be beautiful if he so wished. Why should she say he was ugly?

He paused for a moment to look harder. The light died out of his face. His image was looking back at him with a distinct feminine air, nose cocked, arms embracing a bosom staring stiffly, superciliously , with, so it seemed to him, the contemptible simper of a young woman who still fatuously admires the thing that has long since lost its charm. No sign of the Robert of a few years ago. Something was happening to him or was it just he’d never looked deeply into the mirrors at home that were sparse. He caught his breath and clenched his hands, drawing down his rather meek looking eyebrows in an expression of angry scorn.

“Oh my goodness who are you? Never, never, never again, will I look at myself and never will I let myself turn into someone like that woman. I have to take more care of myself and focus on finding opportunities during this visit ,” Robert vowed fiercely.

He was to find, however, before this first evening was over, that the mere avoidance of that one pose before the mirror would not suffice to quell his urge for experimentation or to lay the ghost of the suspicions that was beginning to haunt him about the aging process.

He felt he might find time to explore this other more feminine side of him because of the feelings it had created inside him and the beauty that might be hidden. He removed his waistcoat and unbuttoned his shirt. Yes maybe he could easily be mistaken for a young woman of mischief dressing in tight breeches. He could imagine himself as a boyish featured woman and even Roberta junior if that was to Roberta senior’s preference. Maybe she would have preferred a niece. Who knows what was in her mind. Was she jealous or did she want Robert to be the young woman she once was and the daughter she never had? Surely not. Why was he suddenly having such thoughts and ideas?

At the very outset a new version of the likeness was presented to him when, during the first course of dinner, Miss Deane, with a lowering frown of her blackened eyebrows, found occasion to reprimand the elderly parlor-maid.

For a moment Robert was again puzzled by the intriguing sense of the familiar, before he remembered his own scowl at the looking-glass an hour before. “Do I really frown like that?” he thought. And on the instant found himself feeling like his aunt.

That, indeed, was the horror that, despite every effort of resistance, deepened steadily as the evening wore on. Miss Deane had, without question, lost every trace of her beauty; but her character, her spirit was unchanged, and it was, so Robert increasingly believed, the very spit and replica of his own.

They had the same characteristic gestures and expressions; the look of kindly tolerance with which her aunt regarded Robert was precisely the same as that with which Robert regarded his father. When his aunt’s voice dropped in speaking from the rather shrill, strained tone that was obviously not natural to her, Robert heard the inflexions of his own voice. And as his knowledge of Miss Deane grew, so, also, did that haunting unpleasant feeling of looking and speaking in precisely the same manner.

It seemed to him as if he were being invaded by an alien personality; as if the character he had known and cherished all his life were no longer his own, but merely a casual inheritance from some unknown ancestor. His very integrity was threatened by his consciousness of that likeness, his pride of individuality. He was not, after all, a unique personality, but merely another version—if he were even that?—of a Master or nay, even Miss Robert Deane, born in the middle of the previous century.

Moreover, with that growing recognition of likeness in character, there came the thought that he in time might look even as his aunt looked at this present moment. After all he had seen his body changing and was feeling strange some days. He didn’t feel so strong as he had felt in younger days and he tired easily if taking exercise or attempting to move domestic items. What would Adele think of him like this? What if he were to lose his youthful boyish features and what if he took on even more feminine appearance and even looked like his aunt once looked.

Perhaps he also would lose his handsome features, the softness and his perceived beauty, until no facial resemblance could be traced between the hag she became and the man or even the beauty he/she had once been. For, through all her torment, Robert still proudly clung to the certainty that, physically at least, there was no sort of likeness between his aunt and himself. He was after all a man as already proven to Adele even his attempts to please her had so far been rather feeble.

Miss Deane’s belief in that matter, however, was soon proved to be otherwise; for when they were alone together in the drawing-room after dinner, and the topic so inevitably present to both their minds came to the surface of conversation, she unexpectedly said: “But we’re evidently the poles apart in character and manner, my dear.”

“Oh! Do you think so?” Robert exclaimed. “I—it’s a queer thing to say perhaps—but I curiously feel like you, aunt; when you speak sometimes and—and when I watch the way you do things.”

Miss Deane shook her head. “I admit some similarities but see no physical resemblance at all with you dressed that way,” she said; “so, my dear, we are utterly different.”

Did she too, Robert wondered, see him as a niece not as her nephew and what did she mean dressed like that?

By the last post Robert received his expected letter from Adele Flemming. His aunt separated it from the others brought in by her maid and passed it across to her nephew with a slight hint of displeasure in her face. “MISTER Robert Deane, junior,” she said.

“Really, it hadn’t occurred to me how difficult it will be to distinguish our letters. I hope my friends won’t take to addressing me as Miss Deane, senior. Properly, of course, I am Miss Deane, and you Mr. Robert not Miss Roberta, but I’ll admit there’s sure to be some confusion with our names so similar and especially if you dress so, that you might feel is fashionable but many might consider feminine. “What do you think my sweet Robert? “

Robert felt awkward with this constant attack on his masculinity. But for some reason it didn’t feel uncomfortable. He had a desire to see if he looked better as a woman rather than as an effeminate man but no such opportunity was likely.

Miss Deane suddenly announced “Now, my dear, I expect you’re tired. You’d better run up to bed. My maid has un-packed your cases and hung your garbs. She will have placed a warm pan beneath the sheets and laid out suitable attire. ”

Robert was willing enough to go. He was glad to have an opportunity to read Adele’s letter in solitude; he was even more glad to get away from the company of this living supposed aged echo of himself. “I believe I should go mad if I had to live with her,” he reflected. “I would get into the way of emulating her. I should worry about how I might become more of a woman if I lived here and then to age like her, growing old before my time.” He realized this was all in his mind.

When he reached his bedroom, he put down the letter unopened on the dressing table and once more stared searchingly at his own reflection in the mirror. Was there any least trace of a physical likeness to his aunt he asked himself; and began in imagination to follow the possible stages of the change that time would inevitably work upon himself becoming more womanly at each stage. He shrugged his shoulders. If there were indeed any sort of facial resemblance between himself and his aunt, surely no one would ever see it except in Miss Deane, and she seemed obsessed with a senile vanity. Yet was it, after all, Robert was beginning to wonder if this was an unnatural obsession. Might he not in time suffer from it himself?

The change in his appearance as he aged might be so slow like his aunt might have encountered, so infinitely gradual; and always one would be cherishing the old, loved image of youth and beauty, falling in love with it, like a deluded flower, and coming to be deceived by the fantasy of an unchanging appearance of youth.

Looking always for the desired thing, he would suffer from the hallucination that the thing existed in fact. If indeed the changes extended to some form of prolonged appearance of womanhood he imagined that like his aunt the only artifice needed to perfect the illusion was a touch of paint and powder. What strange thoughts seemed to be going through his mind since he arrived at Tavistock Square.

No doubt in his mind that his aunt—perhaps searching her own image in the mirror at this moment—saw not herself but a picture of her nephew not as Robert but as Roberta her niece. A strange situation in deed and it brought a slight shudder and a puzzled expression on his face.

Somehow now she was hypnohypnotizedhe suggestion of a pose and the desire of her own mind. In time, Robert himself might also become the victim of a similar illusion! God forbid such a thing might happen .

Oh! It was horrible! With yet another shudder, he picked up the letter and turned away from the looking-glass. He would forget that ghastly warning in the thought of the joys proper to his youth. He would think of Adele and of his next meeting with her. He opened her letter to find that she had, rather timorously, suggested that they should meet the next afternoon—at the Marble Arch at three o’clock, if he heard nothing further in the meantime. She was quite bold to invite him rather than the other way around. Maybe this was normal in London Town he thought. At home it was not acceptable behavior. What would his father think indeed?

For a few minutes he lost himself again in delighted anticipation, and then slowly, insidiously, a new speculation crept into his mind. What would be the effect upon Adele if she saw him and her aunt together? Would she recognize the likeness and, anticipating the movement of more than half a century, see him in one amazing moment as he would likely as not eventually become?

He needed time to think and to prepare himself for his meeting with Adele. He needed to take special care of his appearance to put as great a distance between their two faces as possible.

There was a knock on the door and the Parlor maid entered without any care of the state of his undress. By now he was already stripped to the waist so he grabbed his shirt to cover his developing breasts. Her eyes focused immediately and the mere act of bending to pick up his undershirt made matters worse.

She spoke out to say “Excuse me ma’am but Miss Deane asked me to draw a bath for you and prepare suitable attire for a good night’s rest. I fear I made a mistake because of your attire today and it appears that the wrong cases were unloaded from the train.” She assumed that he was indeed a niece rather than nephew.

In a moment of nervousness he decided for some strange reason to apologies rather than to suggest that her eyes had deceived her. He had immediate need to find explanation of the bosom on display and as a young man he could think of no greater shame.

For some reason he decided to accept her assumption so he told her that he found it easier and safer to dress as a man whilst travelling and especially alone on a visit to London. Also he asked that she might understand her dilemma and help him to carry on his disguise a little longer. Since his aunt already appeared confused he explained it would not be of consequence and the likelihood was that she might get worse if he changed to his normal garb as Roberta. It seemed to work and so now to her he was Roberta disguising himself as a man.

It would certainly help since the maid would be no longer embarrassed to come to his room and whilst taking his bath he did not have to disguise his developing breasts.

As he lay back to soak she tended him. It was a nice experience for him to be free of tight restraints and especially she then assisted him to wash his hair and remove as much of the surplus soap suds as possible. She could not help but comment on his lack of development and as she tended them she offered some ideas how Roberta might benefit from a change in diet and then even pregnancy if she had a candidate in mind. Roberta felt her cheeks become warm and her nipples seemed to harden. It didn’t go unnoticed.

The maid then indicated her work was done so she held a large towel as he stepped out of the water as discreetly as possible and at least she averted her eyes. He had tried to tuck himself and it seemed to work. But he didn’t have to worry so he moved to the stool besides the fire whilst she brought more fresh towels to his aid and finally a dressing gown appeared. It was warm and comfortable but clearly not that of any male guest who had visited.

For thirty minutes or so Polly brushed his hair as it dried by the fireside. He’d never had such an experience before and he found himself becoming even more the woman Roberta that Polly saw before her as they chattered. He found out that Polly had worked at the house for more than twenty years and how she found Aunt Roberta was deteriorating and suffering from illusions. Still she said that Miss Deane retained her strong character and it would help to have a niece to talk with. She hoped Roberta would present herself properly indoors in front of her aunt whatever she might decide whilst out in the town.

When they returned to the bedroom Polly had replaced the gentleman’s night gown with one more akin to that of a female guest and brought some under garments from some store area that was on the upper floor. Robert declined her assistance to help him change to the nightdress and she then placed the under garments to air by the fire ready for the next day. Polly seemed to have accepted that Robert was a woman and so he had looked into the glass once more. His hair had been brushed and now had a natural curl. It was styled very much as a young woman might style it and he felt now that his aunt was wrong to cast him as ugly. He was intrigued at the image and Polly had made several complementary remarks saying Miss Deane had a similar look in her younger days even at the age of fifty tears.

Robert was tired and he needed sleep. The two goblets of red wine and the glass of port were laying heavily on his stomach and he felt a little drunk. He thought this was part of the reason for the devil in him admitting to being a woman in men’s garb. He soon fell into a deep sleep as Polly extinguished the lights and placed a guard in front of the fire. Tomorrow he would be seeing Adele and he had to present as himself and seek the assistance of Polly to remain discreet. Polly now seemed intent on him wearing female underwear beneath his breeches and shirt and had the notion that she could find a way to fit a tight corset to retain his breasts and hold him as straight as a man should be.

He had little choice but what would Adele think if she saw him now? What of her lover sleeping in female nightdress and wearing ladies undergarments. And for Robert tomorrow’s first task was to decide how best to pull back and straighten his hair after Polly had gone to so much trouble to pretty it. For now as he lay asleep Polly looked on and in the light of the last flickers of firelight and the lamp she carried couldn't help but say to herself how beautiful this young woman was and how much a shame it was she should not display herself accordingly.

Robert slept soundly with his arms wrapped around a large pillow no doubt comforted as he pressed his developing breasts against it.