Stiephanie (Stiffy) takes a Stiffy

Stiffy….

It was just a few years after the great war. I was at my parents house in Hertfordshire cleaning my car in the stable yard following my journey down from London. It was disappointing that my shiny new Vauxhall was now sullied with road grime and I couldn’t trust any servants to clean it without breaking something.

“Bertie!” someone shouted, I looked round.

“Stiffy! I replied knowing how much my sisters friend Stephanie hated the nickname.

She scowled, “Freebie is around somewhere.” I suggested.

“Bertie my name is Stephanie and your sister is Phoebe not Freebie as you well know,” Stiffy insisted.

“Yes Stiffy,” I agreed, “Anyway how’s the Lord hunting going?”

Stephanie had yearned to marry a Lord or some such ever since we were children, she pretended to be a Lady when we played together and of course in her games I was the Butler but now aged 24 her search was becoming something of a private joke.

Thank god I had missed the great war, things were just getting back to normal, except the horses had given way to motor cars, at least among the wealthier classes.

“Not too well to be honest,” Stiffy said wistfully, “The clever ones died in France and only the dullards remain.”

“Dull is good, you should employ a gigolo for fun, Lord for the title and,” I offered.

“That’s it they have no money,” she sighed, “Half of them are bankrupt, Bertie, or the families are.”

“Well if you will insist on a title,” I sighed, “What about Wally Branksome?”

“Wally? Dear god you are not serious?” she laughed.

“Well his family does have a lot of property alongside the Great Northern and Metropolitan railways,” I ventured, “Ripe for building houses on, got to be worth a few quid.”.

“Gosh, wow,” Stiffy gasped, “Of course, Wally Branksome, and he is lord something even now before he becomes the Earl.”

“Yes Stiffy,” I joked, “Get a gold band on your finger and bingo you’ll be a bona fide Lady!”

“Good Lord, Oh Bertie you are clever!” she said and she gave me a peck on the cheek.

She wandered off to see my sister Phoebe. An hour later she had devised a plan.

“The Maudsley’s have a shoot next weekend,” Stiffy announced, “ Phoebe says Wally will be going.”

“Really?” I replied.

“And you have an invitation,” she added.

“Oh, really, I really don’t like shoots, but if Freebie says so it must be true,” I replied.

“Yes you and a plus one, you can take me!” Stiffy announced.

“But I thought you had your sights on Wally?” I protested.

“It’s not a “Date” it’s a way to get in with Wally, for me to get in with Wally!” Stiffy insisted.

“But I have other plans!” I protested.

“Yes, and I’ll tell your sister about your other plans,” Stiffy threatened.

She meant my flying lessons.

“Oh very well, I’ll take you.” I agreed.

The weekend started on Friday evening, we arrived around six o’clock ready for dinner at eight. I had to bunk in with two other chaps in a room with two pairs of bunk beds, Stiffy with three other girls, this was the norm you understand. For us middle orders, that is. Wally had his own bed room as befits a “Lord”

Dinner was edible, and as ordered I engaged Wally in conversation and I ensured his glass was kept full with Port wine when the Ladies left us after Dinner so he was pretty merry when the girls re appeared around Ten Thirty.

Stiffy applied all her charm, you could see most of her charms through her short thin “Flapper” style dress which left little to the imagination.

I left her to it, had a round of Whist with some chaps and despite her best efforts Stiffy realised that rather than rousing Wally’s passion he actually required regular rousing to avoid him nodding off.

Night approached, people wandered off to bed.

Stiffy approached me surreptitiously, “Help me get Wally to his room,” she ordered rather than asked.

“If I must,” I agreed, “But why?”

“Don’t be so dim, if I spend the night with him he’ll have to make me an offer” (of marriage) she explained as it it was completely obvious instead of completely mad.

So I helped her get him up the stairs, the servants stairs, back stairs, not the main staircase. He was completely insensible, both tired out and drunk

She found his key in his waistcoat pocket and opened his bedroom door. We frog marched him inside and laid him on the bed. He just lay there insensible, fast asleep, snoring like a pig.

“Will you be alright,” I asked.

“Absolutely, get his trousers off would you?” she asked. She at least had the sense to lock the door first.

She had his waistcoat and shirt off and between us we had his shoes and trousers off and laid him onto the bed which was between single and double bed width.

“Good, I’ll stay here and come morning,” Stiffy grinned.

“Great plan except,” I observed, “He is out of it and presumably you are virgo intacto, first thing they will need to see is that you aren’t.”

“Oh bloody hell,” Stiffy sighed, “Yes, Virgo Intacto that’s me.”

“And you can’t make out he did it if you are,” I explained, “Just leave him here and go to bed.”

“Damn and blast,” Stiffy snapped, “What if I did it wth someone else.”

“Who exactly?