Bloomers
and Corsets?
It had been
one of those afternoons, Ben Cartwright thought with a stifled sigh. Yet
another of those widowed ladies from
There was a
sudden rumpus out in the yard, and moments later the door opened to admit his
eldest son, Adam, who looked furious. “That’s it!” he declared, totally
ignoring the lady seated on the hideously uncomfortable sofa. “That bear has to
go!”
While Ben
blinked in astonishment at this show of petulance, Joe and the Giggly Sisters
came through the door, carrying Paw, the blonde’s pet bear, who
was looking distinctly sticky. Close on their heels was Hoss, the middle son.
“You were told
not to give him that ice-cream,” the blonde stated, in icy tones. “He’s only a
baby, what did you expect?”
“What’s going
on?” Ben asked, dazedly.
“That bear dropped ice-cream on my saddle!” Adam sulked. Ben
suddenly found he had to cough very hard to stop himself laughing.
“We’re just
going to give Paw a bath,” the redhead informed him and she, Joe and the blonde
disappeared to the wash house.
As Adam and
Hoss went back outside to try and deal with the ice-cream spill on the saddle
(a nice bit of saddle soap or linseed oil ought to do the trick, Ben thought),
the lady, Mrs Prentice, smiled sweetly at Ben and said, “Those are such
charming girls, Ben. But why do you let them wear those unsuitable clothes?
Why, they’ll catch their death of cold! Winter is fast approaching, you know.”
At that
moment, the redhead walked through the great room and started to climb the
stairs. Her top was soaked, and left very little to anyone’s imagination. Ben
couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Well I
never,” sniffed Mrs Prentice.
About two
seconds later, the blonde came through, dropped a towel-wrapped bear onto his almost-grandfather’s
lap and followed her sister. Joe was next through, sans shirt, and looked as
golden-hued and muscular as ever.
Paw, having
thoroughly enjoyed soaking everyone during the course of his bath, gave Ben a
snuffly kiss.
“Do you think
the bear’s hygienic?” asked the lady. “And neither of those girls had on a
corset! It’s disgraceful!”
Actually, this
was one of the things Ben liked best about the sisters. He was a red-blooded
man after all! He gave Mrs Prentice a beady look.
“And exactly how
many ladies on this show does Wardrobe see fit to outfit in the proper
underwear?”
Mrs Prentice
was stymied. Like most of the female guest stars, she had never even been
offered such a garment and her only familiarity with corsets was limited to
that scene in Gone With the Wind. In fact, the only
people on the show who wore anything approximating to supportive underwear of
the bodice to hip variety were the showgirls and most of them appeared to be
apparelled courtesy of
Casting a
guilty look at her ample bosom, Mrs Prentice desperately tried to conceal the
fact she was sporting a slightly ludicrous brassiere with pointy cups. “Well,
they are trying to draw a delicate balance between 1860s fashion and modern
expectations,” she floundered.
Ben snorted
loudly and the ensuing gust blew the papers on his desk into disarray. “Poppycock!”
Mrs Prentice
looked shocked, but she was also secretly impressed with his manliness and had
to take several deep breaths before she could continue. “And while the low-cut
necklines might not be totally in tune with the sensibilities, it would be a
shame not to make the most of the undoubted assets many of the young ladies
bring to the show.”
“I think
you’re missing one vital point,” Joe said, with deceptive quietness that was
totally undone by the wicked glint in his eyes. “The girls don’t need to wear
corsets.” He looked meaningfully at Mrs Prentice, who flushed but stubbornly
refused to leave.
Ben sighed,
but could not help admiring her persistency. The woman certainly was not a quitter, he had to give her that. If only his dear wives, Elizabeth,
My Love, Inger, My Love and Marie, My Love had only a little
of her tenacity, then he might not be in this predicament. Sadly, all three had
succumbed to early deaths:
“Have you
noticed how few women are ever shown riding side-saddle?” queried the blonde.
“There was a brief display of this in The Countess, but apart from that…
And no lady would ever dare to ride astride, far less wear a divided skirt.
Besides which, a properly tailored riding habit is so attractive.”
Adam came in,
enjoying a beef sandwich, with pickles on the side. “It’s not safe to ride
side-saddle,” he announced in long-suffering tones.
The redhead
nonchalantly filed her nails. “The Queen rides side-saddle when Trooping the Colour.” This effectively stopped all further
conversation on that topic.
“I noticed the
mercantile has got in winter underwear,” Hoss said jovially. “It’ll be getting’
real cold soon, Pa, so we’d better stock up.”
“Do long-johns
come in other colour other than pink?” asked the redhead. “It seems rather
girly to me.”
Ben looked
embarrassed. “They come in warm red flannel,” he replied stiffly. “And repeated
washings make them fade to pink.”
“The
mercantile has some very nice thermal vests in stock,” Mrs Prentice whispered
to the girls. “You can’t go around without a vest on in the winter. You’ll
catch your death of cold.” She looked disapprovingly at the matching lilac tops
the girls were wearing. Yes, they had long sleeves, but revealed rather a lot
of bosom, it had to be said.
“The bingo
tops,” Joe announced delightedly.
“’Bingo’?” Ben
echoed, wondering what the tops had to do with bingo. He did enjoy a nice game
of bingo in the
“Eyes down!”
Joe cried, laughing, having noticed that his family’s eyes were riveted to the
display of marvellous cleavage. The girls smiled modestly.
Not to be
deterred, Mrs Prentice declared, “And it’s just a disgrace they way they go
around wearing pants!”
“I would hope
they do,” Joe responded, having learned that the Scots didn’t refer to trousers
as pants. However, this sally went right over Mrs Prentice’s head. “They look
jolly good in pants,” he defended them.
“They should
be wearing skirts down to the ground, with at least a dozen flannel
petticoats,” the harridan insisted. “Hussies!”
Ben thought
back to his three wives.
The blonde
regarded Joe curiously. "In The
Crucible, you were wearing blueish-grey long johns in the bath!"
"I got
Adam's left-over bath water!" Joe protested. "What else did you
expect?" He looked utterly mortified. Adam merely looked relieved that, as
first-born son, he was automatically entitled to first claim on the bath water.
"Of
course, sometimes Joe don't bother with no underwear
at all!" Hoss interjected. At first, Mrs Prentice looked as if she was
about to have several dozen fits, but then she leant forward and studied Joe
intently.
"Stand
up!" she commanded.
With a weary
nod of his head, Ben indicated that Joe should humour their guest.
"Turn
around!" Joe performed a neat pirouette.
Nodding in
satisfaction, Mrs Prentice passed judgement. "The seamstress in
"I've
often thought that!" agreed the blonde, who was something of a connoisseur
in this speciality.
"They
don't have any belt loops!" Joe said mournfully. This was a source of
great personal sadness: the lack of belt loops had never been explained to
Joe's satisfaction.
"I can
see why young Joseph wouldn't want to spoil the fit around the butt with some
unsightly underwear lines!" Mrs Prentice confessed, twinkling wildly. Both
Joe and Ben looked rather queasy.
"Good
thing you were wearing your drawers during The
Hayburner, eh Joe?" Hoss joshed. "Your pants
done split in two there!"
“You had white
long-johns on that day,” the redhead chortled. “Or white shorts.”
Joe blushed.
If only several million people hadn’t seen that! But on the other hand, he
supposed it was better than several million people seeing his naked butt – not
that the fans wouldn’t have liked that, for they certainly would!
Luckily, Mrs
Prentice had lost interest in that thread, as it was just too risqué for her.
“Adam, I noticed you aren’t wearing a vest!” she said, sternly. “And you didn’t
wear one in The Gift or The Savage.
Or even in Springtime. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
“I will not!”
Adam protested indignantly. “I have a lovely furry chest to keep me warm!”
“An’ me!” Hoss
beamed. “I’m hairy all over an’ it keeps the heat in wonderful like!”
The sisters
shuddered at the thought of all that hair. They liked their men smooth and
well-muscled, like Joe. Smiling, Joe draped an arm round each girl. “Well,” he
said, cheerfully, “there’s one member of the family who will never catch cold.”
“Not the way
you three share body heat, that’s for sure,” commented Adam, jealously. Those
girls were always draped over Joe, he thought. It wasn’t fair.
“And who is
that, son?” Ben asked, choosing to ignore Adam’s comment.
Performing a
series of neat somersaults, Paw rolled across the floor and finished up on his
hind legs, grinning broadly at the assembled company.
“Paw!” chorused
Joe and the sisters.
October 2003