I've been away from the writing for nearly a year now following a moment of grand idiocy where two of my longer, new stories were wiped from my hard drive including the complete version of the actress catfight I had embarked upon and posted part of on the site before it all went crazy- that'll teach me not to backup! That and the stresses and strains of real life led to me keeping my fingers away from the keyboard in feminine fighting matters. Nonetheless I have recently been inspired to return to the world of feminine dueling, partly with my wife's new found interaction with the cat world- and my thanks go to Anne and Nigel for that, you know who you are, and my apologies that I have not been in contact with you both recently- and also a desire to get the creative juices working again. I hope to post the opening to my newest chapter tomorrow, a little bit of a departure which I hope will encourage some suggestions from some of the folk in here.
Anyway, with many of the stories lost when the site went down I thought I would once again offer my Victorian catfights for folks to look at again. Many thanks to Felix Gato and his site which allowed me to preserve these works and thanks again for reading, comments are greatly appreciated. I hope some of you enjoy:
CATFIGHT VICTORIANA-
PART I: MAID TO FIGHT
Lady Margaret Farningham slowly closed the pages of the newspaper. placing it down on the stand beside her. As one of the key figures of the social scene in Victorian London she took it almost as her duty to keep abreast of events occuring in the world of London's elite, indeed it was almost ritual for her to read the daily society pages whilst she took tea in the morning and the open letter in this morning's pages piqued her interest more than any others had done for quite some time. Pondering, her breath shallow, she lifted the elegant china cup to her deep red lips, sipped the tea and then, unable to resist any more, avariciously grabbed for the paper once again. Opening the society pages once more she again eyed the words of the letter, breasts rising and falling against the tight restraints of her corset:
Readers of the Times
I am writing to let it be known that this night of 14th August 1865 an affair of honour was settled between myself and Lady Jayne Thompson to settle a dispute over the hand of one Major Rufus Nialls. We duelled in private with no seconds and the weapons chosen were our own God given teeth and nails. As loser of this duel I am compelled to write that the Lady Thompson is truly the better woman and well deserved of the hand of my former beloved Major. I wish them every success in their relationship. As consequence I shall now be returning to Leipzig never to return to London.
Analise BismarkMagaret's blue grey eyes scanned the letter imaging the venom that must have gone into every penned word, the humiliation, the shame and of course no doubt the physical pain from torn hair and scratched flesh. Yes, she was familiar with such sensations, after all she had had more than her share of such encounters....'duels' was of course the lady-like term but she still preferred the words used by the street walker and dock whore- catfight, it seemed to sum up such conflicts far more aptly. After all a duel was something that in the world of men was refined and honourable, yet between women such battles seldom had much in the way of refinement and honour despite the ritual that might precede it, at least that was her experience. Of course such 'duels' were very much covert, secret encounters, it was rare a woman would announce such a clash in public and it was certainly not spoken of by the women in society even when on such occasion as one would appear at a ball or function with a cut eye, patchy hair or bruises. Indeed such was the level of rivvalry between the women that Lady Margaret knew on more than one occasion such 'duels' had actually taken place at such a grand ball or party. And then of course there was the stipulation that this Analise would have to leave, the ultimate humiliation, not only the loss of her man but almost a national failing. Margaret knew little of the Prussian duchess, had met her but once and cared little for her but it was the other woman, the victor that had piqued her interest this morning, Lady Jayne Thompson. Margaret was well aware of this flame haired female, her ladylike demeanour and underlying fiery temper was known amongst her circle, she was seen as the epitome of the cat and this was not the first time that her fighting exploits had reached Margaret's ears. Again the Lady Farningham closed the pages of the paper looking wistfully out of the window. Yes, she thought it was time she and this Misss Thomspon met. With a rustle of her laced sleevs she picked up the china bell on the table, it chimed delciately as she turned to the door opening almost instantanously. Mary her dark haired Irish maid entered,curtsying with a low doffing of her white capped head, 'M'lady?'
'Mary' the lady of the house smiled thoughtfully, 'Bring me pen and paper, I have a letter to write'
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Lady Jayne Thompson took the letter opener in her slender red nailed fingers swiftly ripping the envelope with a neat slash.There was something about the elegant writing style, the loop of the J and the T of her name, which made this envelope stand out amongst the rest from well wishers and admirers following her recent success. Slowly she pulled open the letter and cast her eyes about the decorative and feminine script on expensive paper:
My dear Lady Jayne
First might I congratulate you on your recent success against that German hussy. As one passingly familiar with her in social circles I can but celebrate her comeuppance against a true female of English stock. I also however note that this is not the first time that you have fought such duels. As a seasoned 'duelist' myself I would take it as a great honour if you would join me for afternoon tea at your earliest convenience so that we may perhaps talk and exchange opinions on this delicate matter that some call 'catfighting'. Do not be concerned I have no intentions or designs upon your dear Major, I have more than enough suitors of my own- some of them hard won- to dream of predating upon another woman's, My interest is simply good natured and academic with the desire to share insights upon this activiity that so few of us partake in. I await your response in good time.
Kindly yours
Lady Margaret Farningham
Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she read this, the slight pain in her scalp where that German bitch had affixed her nailed hand for so long during their battle seemed to ache all the more despite the fact that most of her wounds were now well on the mend. These words seemed to speak of nothing more than friendly chat but it was quite clear that there was a subtext here, not one based on petty jealousies or a shared lover but one borne out of womanhood and the struggle amongst so many of its kind to be the dominant female. Though the words spoke quite the contarary it was clear that there was challenge within them and this intrigued Jayne. She had heard of this Margaret and knew of her own reputation as a sharp nailed hellcat, indeed almost as fiery as she herself, a reputation she knew she had well deserved. Curiously their paths had never crossed, until it seemed now.
'Is anything wrong m'lady?' Jayne's reverie was broken by the soft words spoken by Audrey her most trusted maid servant and confidante. She turned to her, smiling thinly as she looked at the twenty year old blonde beauty, Yes, this meeting had to be answered.
'No Audrey not at all, in fact quite the opposite. I am much intrigued by this letter. Be so good as to go to Master Hoxham and tell him to ride to this address in London,' she pointed at the elegantly scripted location on the back of the envelope.'Tell him to inform the lady of the house that I woud be honoured and very much delighted to meet her for afternoon tea a week Saturday. I look very much forward to hearing what she has to say as well as what I may offer her.' Jayne smiled as her maid nodded, turned and left grabbing her shawl as she went. It was wise to choose a week or so for her scratches and bites to heal from her furious battle with the Prussian, after all, decorum dictated that a woman must look her best for such occasions.With heart thumping excitedly she turned to her own tea and began to count the days until the fateful Saturday.
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The bell rang deep within the London residence of Lady Margaret Farningham as Mary moved down the gloomy hallway towards the front door. She knew that this was her mistress's special guest and, pausing momentarily, she pushed her dark mane back beneath her cap before opening the door. She was greeted by the sight of Lady Jayne Thompson turning on the doorstep to face her. Instantly she automatically went into a curtsy, 'M'lady'
'Good afternoon, and do I have the pleasure of Lady Farningham's servant?' the tall redhead announced. The carriage in which she had arrived was already making its way along the cobbled streets from the house, the enigmatic Master Hoxham urging the proud steed away.
'Indeed you do,' Mary looked up, her eyes taking in the beautiful thirty year old in front of her, the red hair cascading beneath her dark bonnet, the tight black dress with corset beneath, crimson buttons matching the deep red of her nails and lips, a crimson slash across her pale but rouged face. She was without doubt as tall as her mistress, her long legs obscured beneath her black and scarlet crinolines, long high heeled lace up boots barely visible. It was clear that this woman was in the best of health and had a truly comely body, with fine breasts nestled beneath her dress although constricted by her corset. She was truly the first woman amongst so many that she had admitted to this residence that immediately seemed a match for her mistress, forbidden thought as that may be. She shook off her silent observation with an almost literal swaying of her head and drew back 'Please come in.'
'Why thankyou,' the Lady Thompson replied as she entered rather curiously drawing long black velevt gloves over her thin fingers and delicately pale hands. Mary watched but then found her attention drawn towards the doorway and the figure standing there, fingers flexing erratically at her sides. The blonde Thompson maidservant, the same age as she drew her gaze. Their eyes met, Mary's dark green and Audrey's deep blue, an instant recognition and loathing, primal and vicious sprung up between them speaking of something more than a simple meet between strangers. A second passed where they stared at one another, faces contorting in contempt as their breasts began to rise and fall but any further developments were halted by a curt word from Jayne, either knowing or unknowing of their instant antagonism, 'Audrey, this way.' And with that the gaze was broken, a sneering snort and the blonde moved across the threshold into the elaborate residence.
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'My DEAR Lady Thompson, do come in.' With a rustle of skirts Margaret stood as Mary opened the door to her beautifully decorated lounge. The redhead moved in, her maid behind her and Margaret could not but help observe the brief but hateful glances passing betwixt her and her own servant. The moment passed in a beat though, as with the clatter of her own high booted heels she moved across the hard oaken floor to receive her guest, green velvet glove extended to meet her. 'I am so glad you were able to come.'
'The pleasure is all mine' Jayne responded lifting her own gloved hand and taking that of the approaching woman. Black lined eyes met and though there was not the immediate antagonism shared by the serving girls, an antagonism which continued with hasty but meaninful glances in the background, there was nonetheless a sense of instant challenge exacerbated by the lengthy grasp of hands. Talons were of course sheathed behind gloves but there was a sense of test as rapidly each woman eyed the other, Margaret taking in the flame haired newcomer as Jayne took in the brunette. It was clear that there was little between them. Margaret was as shapely as Jayne, her hair a deep swirl of brown kept piled upright by an elaborate emerald and gold hairpin, her dress a deep green with gold buttons and similarly coloured crinoline and skirts. Her boots as high as those of Jayne's and elegantly laced, 5'7 apiece their quick survey soon found their eyes staring back into each other. It was a mere moment of time but the pause clearly indicated something going on, enough to draw both maids away from their own furtive stares to see how the two women viewed each other.
'Mary, please bring the tea in,' Margaret called over Jayne's shoulder, releasing her grip and smiling sweetly before drawing back to a heavily padded wooden chair of a style more akin to the previous century. 'Please,' a sweeping gesture of green gloved hand indicated a chair opposite, 'do sit down.'
'Why thankyou.' Gathering up her skirts Jayne slowly lowered herself onto the seat, being sure to keep her back straight, although that was not too difficult with the tight corset that pressed against it and her breasts. 'What of my maidservant Audrey?' she doffed a hand in the girl's direction, herself indulging in a final sharp exchange with Mary before she left, a fact not unnoticed by Lady Thompson.
'Oh she may wait in the reception room. I would have Mary show her but,' she smiled offering a knowing look towards her guest, 'I am sure it would be more prudent and practical for her to find it herself. It is by the door on the right hand side. You may leave when your mistress desires.'
Jayne fixed Margaret with a stare, was this instruction to her servant laden with a sense of challenge or was her imagination being too fevered. It was time now perhaps simply to let it pass and with a gesture and eyes that never left her hostess she bade her maid leave, 'I will call on you if I have need,' and with a swift curtsy, a clatter of booted feet and a slight click as the door closed the two ladies were left alone.
'So, I trust you are well after your recent encounter,' Margaret sat back stiffly into her chair, the wood creaking as her skirts rustled with the crossing of her long legs. 'I understand that the dear Lady Analise is quite the laughing stock in her native Germany now, particularly amongst other so called 'society' women of that country.'
'Oh I care not for her now, she is nothing more than another name to add to my list of conquests..although truth be known she WAS quite the hellcat.' Jayne mirrored Margaret's actions, crossing her legs, left hand moving up to pat her red mane and scalp although whether to adjust her own bonnet and piled up hair or to maybe relive a memory from her fairly recent battle the Lady Farningham was not sure.
'How curious, that you call them conquests. You see this as quite the sport then do you my dear?' Margaret smiled resting her gloved hands within her lap.
'One could indeed look at it that way. Why, don't you?' Jayne leaned forward slightly feeling her breasts digging into the hard material of her corset. There was a long pause as the two again eyed each other Margarets' booted foot swaying rhthmically, a rhythm taken up by Jayne's delicate ankle. And then the sound of the door opening as Mary reappeared bearing tray of elegant china teaware. Both women drew back into their seats as Margaret's attention turned to her maid's reppearance. 'Place it down there. There wil be no need to pour,' a gloved hand indicated the table between the two older noblewomen, 'After all good tea takes time does it not Lady Jayne' she smiled looking directly across at the redhead.
'Indeed it does,' Jayne looked directly back to the brunette resting her hands, fingers interlocked in her black skirted lap.
'And I want you to go to your own quarters. Do not go to the reception room you understand. I will call on you soon enough.'
'Understood m'lady,' the dark haired girl curtsied and left, though both women were certain they saw a look of disappointment flicker across her face as she did. Once more the door clicked shut.
'So, alone at last,' Margaret smiled after seconds of tense silence.' How do you have your tea my dear Ms Thompson?' she leant forwards and reachied for the milk and sugar.
'Oh I prefer mine black Ms Farningham, black.and strong,' Jayne smiled back.'As you say let it brew, I am sure we can find much to fill the time while we wait.' Her red lipped smile seemed to increase as the warm afternoon sunlight shone in dustily through the windows which looked out onto the quiet tree lined London street outside.
'Indeed so,' Margaret leaned back recrossing her legs as she slowly began to pull at the fingers of her left green glove. 'So, as we were saying, you seem to tke the view that these duels you have are not affairs of honour but simply conquests, yes?'
Again mirroring her hostess's gesture Jayne began to pull at her own left glove, 'Indeed so my dear Miss Farningham. After all is that not the real reason to fight another woman, to prove that you are the better female. Honour is part of it but ultimately is it not to show that you are the stronger woman, isn't that why we ladies catfight in the first place?'
'Oh' a gleeful sound emitted from her throat as Margaret's heart nearly missed a beat, 'So YOU call it 'catfighting' too. How delicious.'
'Well that IS what it is isn't it my dear Lady Margaret or bitchfighting, slutfighting or hussyfighting no matter what gloss is used to cover it with this idea of 'duelling', it is simply two women battling tooth and nail, fighting to beat the other.'
'I do so like your frankness and your down to earthedness using the words of the ladies of the street as opposed to the refined terms of other 'duellists'. It is SO refreshing to see such a woman.' Margaret eyed her guest with a respectful stare although one tinged with a multitude of desires and feelings as she pulled the final finger of her glove free and inspected her pale white hands, long sharp talons which glistened in the light, laquered black, a sharp contrast to her deep red lips. These talons clearly caught Jayne's eye although it was quite clear if the intention of showing them off was intimidation it had not worked as Jayne stared down at her own red nailed slender fingers, sharpened to points just as savage. Margaret was impressed but respect mingled with a deep seated sense of competition.
'Rest asssured though I can use the airs and graces and language of a woman of class I am equally conversant in the language of the gutter and am more than happy to use such if the need arises.'
'Well you have no need to feel ashamed my dear,' Margaret began to see this as one-upwomanship, ' I am equally well spoken in the foul, coarse language of the gutter, my maidservant was from both Dublin and Whitechapel and has had a very 'broad' education which she has shared with me my dear.'
'Oh' Jayne stared back challengingly, 'I don't feel ashamed at all Lady Farningham, in fact quite the opposite my dear.'
'Oh good..we shall see about that,' the two stared hard, broad red lipped smiles possessing a sense of spitefulness about them now as they looked to each other across the tea things over seconds od silence.
'Talking of Mary I could not but help notice that she and your girl seemed to have some degree of antagonism between them.'
'Yes, I noticed that too,' Jayne responded with the slightest of irritation at the change of direction within the conversation.
'Tell me is your servant a fighting girl herself?'
'Oh Audrey is a proper cat I can assure you of that. Sometimes I spar with her, a Whitechapel girl herself she fights with the rawest of tooth and nail and most feline of tactics.'
'Well Mary is no mean cat herself, she has certainly taught me a few things besides linguistic terms when it comes to less than friendly dealings with ther women. I wonder if they perhaps knew each other before? What a quaint thought!'
Jayne's breathing became a little more laboured and she was sure she also noticed that in her hostess, her breasts were pressing increasingly tighter againt her corset beneath her dress. Was there a challenge here, maybe from another angle? This was too intiguing to walk away from and sitting back she slowly recrossed legs again, 'Maybe we could find out?' she posed, a measured, slow and precise question.
'What bring them together in here you mean? Why they would be liable to tear into each other even as we stood here,' Margaret smiled, a look that suggested that she almost approved of such a result.
'Is that such a bad thing?' Jayne echoed her hostess's sentiments.
'No,' Margaret paused and then nodded smiling cattily, there was clearly a game evolving between these two women and she liked the direction it was going. Without taking her eyes from her guest... her rival?, she languidly reached her still gloved right hand over to the bell and rang it. 'Let us see then.'
'Yes. let's' A pause as both women stared hard trying to work out each other's innermost thoughts and then Jayne leaned forwards, 'Maybe we could make it more interesting.'
'Yes?' both could hear the clatter of booted feet drawing up to the door outside.
'What say a wager?'
There was the familiar gentle knock on the door signalling Mary's arrival.
'Wait!' Margaret called and then leant forward voice lower, more conspiratorial 'A wager? Now do tell me more,' with a sense of excitement Margaret began to pull her other glove off, standing as she did.
Still calm Jayne looked to the door, pulling off her other glove a deal more slowly before looking up at the standing hostess. 'Well it's quite clear that the two bitches want to fight each other' she smiled, feeling a slight pang for calling Audrey a bitch but fired up far more by the upcoming challenge, 'You know that look and I do, that's the call for a catfight if ever there was one. What say your Mary fights my Audrey and the winner gets what...say fifty pounds?'
Margaret had to inhale deeply so much was the thrill rising inside her, this talk of the catfight quite clearly signalled that Jayne had come here with the same intention as her. This was an opportunity that had to be followed up. With stomach a flutter and growing excitement she half gasped as she exhaled. 'I agree wholeheartedy' and she did, she would welcome the chance of seeing Mary fight this blonde girl, she knew that the dark tressed servant could look after herself, after all she had seen her fight on more than one occasion, but there was more to it than simply moral victory and this stirred her on to the next train of thought. 'But let us perhaps make the wager a little more interesting.'
Jayne looked up with a sense of intrigue as Margaret stared downwards. 'Let us say that the woman whose servant wins will have carte blanche to determine who will be the next subject for the losing lady's duel. After all that is the theme of this discussion is it not and we both look at ourselves as duellists yes?'
Jayne smiled at the irony of this change of circumstance but clearly this was most agreeable to her as well.' It is accepted,' she stood herself facing off her now rival, offering her red taloned hand, a hand which was quickly grasped by the black nailed fingers of Mary's mistress.
'Excellent,' smiled Margaret as both women tested each other by slightly digging in nails, their expensive Chinese and Indian perfumes mingling as Mary was called in. Seeing the two tall haughty women facing of in their dresses she instantly had an idea where this was heading although perhaps did not expect the angle it would come from. 'Mary,' Margaret moved forwards almost forcibly breaking free from the other lady after a number of seconds longer contact, 'Tell me, have you ever met Lady Thompson's servant before?'
The dark haired maid's flushed cheeks clearly reddened further as she heard the question, eyes flicking in a sense of panic between both the noblewomen,' Well..yes, yes m'lady. I knew the bitc..I mean the good lady's maidservant some years ago when we were both teenagers.' she lowered her eyes imagining an unforgivable faux pas as Jayne moved forwards on deliberate steps.
'Oh Mary please don't hold back on your language I am sure Audrey will have some just as colourful terms for you my dear,' her slender fingers grabbed the girl's chin and lifted it. A crack as Margaret opened a green fan with a suggestion of irritation that drew Jayne's attention leading her to let go of the serving girl and turn away with a quick stare at her rival, feet clattering as her interrogation continued. Face impassive Margaret watched her as she slowly flitted the fan.
'So do tell me what the quarrel is between the two of you?'
'Well the effing whore...' as Mary spoke, unbridled now, face up. eyes full of passion, Jayne could determine more than a hint of Irish lilt in her voice, '...the little slut took my Nathaniel from me she did. Oh we came to blows over it on three occasions but never settled it between us so we did. Damned whore. Our last fight took place in a tavern and we ended up being thrown into the cells. A week we spent there in seperate places and when I got out I couldn't find her anywhere. Nathaniel the dog, left for the Colonies and we never saw him again but I never forgave that bitch, never for the way she treated me!'
'Oh so a battle over a man,' Margaret smiled gleefully,'How ladylike and how..topical,' she smiled looking at Jayne, pausing her fanning as she did.
Jayne ignored the comment merely fixed the younger woman with her grey eyed gaze, 'So how long ago was this?'
Mary, whose cheeks were now a bight shade of crimson half from embarrasment and half from furious remembrance, fiddled with the lace cloth of her apron, 'That was nearly four years ago.'
'Ah so you were both, what, sixteen yes'
'Yes that's right m'lady,' Mary's green eyes stared hard into Jayne's own deep emerald gaze.
'Ah so that might explain why you never had chance to scratch out your dear rival's eyes. Four years ago my steward picked Audrey up from the local workhouse and she has been working for me ever since.'
'But now,' Margaret was in like a shot moving to her maidservant, feet clattering urgently, fan delcately balanced in her fingers, 'Fate has given you opportunity to settle matters between you. Yes, Nathaniel is gone but you can still have chance to take your venegeance. The Lady Jayne and I have agreed that you and...Audrey,' Margaret looked to her equal to ensure she had given the correct name, 'can take up your quarrel and sort out your differences once and for all in a catfight for as long as you need and desire. What do you say to that?'
'Oh m'lady..nothing, nothing would please me more.' Mary's Irish accent was becoming increasingly prominent,' I was SO hoping you'd say that. When she turned up on the doorstep just now I couldn't believe my eyes, the no good bitch, the effing slatern..' the maid looked like she was about to launch into a tide of curses but as she looked up she suddenly stopped herself, 'Oh my apologies your ladyship,' again an angst look at Ms Thompson but the red haired lady merely smiled waving it away, 'It is no matter. I am glad that you are so keen to fight after all ths time. Now we just need to speak to Audrey. May I?' Jayne moved towards the door.
'Of course' Margaret smiled, clearly though the focus had changed there was still immense tension between them. 'I am sure we can safeguard that task with you. And while you do that Mary and I will prepare the room.'
'Room?' Jayne paused looking at Maragret's enigmatic smile and then returned with one of her own, 'No matter. I am sure I will find out soon enough,' and with a quick look at Mary's smouldering eyes she opened the door and slid out into the corridor.
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