Author's Notes: I know I've gotten into a terrible rhythm of updating Beauty and the Geese only once a month, and two Little Mermaid chapters once every two months. I REALLY need to stay on top of it, so from now on I'll shoot for a new chapter every two weeks at the latest. If I fall behind, feel free to PM me telling me to get a move on.
Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or gain to Hellsing or The Little Mermaid.
The next day, the Count ordered new clothes for Seras. The best tailor in the province was called out to take measurements on and design the most beautiful and fashionable clothes for Seras. She felt rather silly having to stand on a large bucket and stand there like a statue as the tailor "took her measurements" and cut and sewed fabric to fit her body, but she held still like she was told.
Even when they stabbed her with pins.
"My word! Why didn't you say anything?" Walter exclaimed after he saw the blood.
Seras gave him a flat look.
"Ah, my humblest apologies," he said.
Seras smiled.
The tailor worked swiftly and diligently, though not as quickly as the Count would have liked since he expected perfection immediately, while the tailor often retorted "You can't rush art!"
It took a few days for all the clothes to be ready, though Seras did get a new dress by the end of the first day.
Unfortunately, upper class human fashion was far more restrictive and cumbersome than Seras could have dreamed. They were all made of very thick fabrics, even thicker than the kind servants wore, and had many layers of structural garments. The first layer was a chemise (a long, loose, thin under dress) over her torso and thighs, and stockings to cover her legs from her feet, and then drawers (or knee-length bloomers) to cover her lower chemise and stockings over her thighs. The next layer was her structural garments: a thick poofy underskirt over her legs which they called a "petticoat" ("Why call it a coat if it's a skirt?" Seras thought) and a corset over her waist.
Oh, that corset. Thanks to it, Seras hated corsets almost immediately. Not that they're inherently painful or uncomfortable, mind you, but at this particular time in history a very slim waist was in fashion. Seras, who had never worn anything more cumbersome than a few starfish in her life, found it very displeasing. And now she was fitted with a very stiff, rigid garment that wrapped around her waist, then constricted to make it seem slimmer than it naturally was, and to make her breasts and hips seem larger than they already were.
Seras hated it. She was no freedom fighter, but she knew discomfort and impracticality when she felt it.
Of course, that wasn't the end of it. The next layer over her "structural garments" (which she thought of as a thick binding strap on her waist and a thick padded skirt to make her lower body seem bell-shaped), Seras had to wear a frilly "camisole," or corset-cover, over her corset and an even frillier skirt over her petticoat. Put together, they looked like a very pretty, white, frilly dress with light yellow ribbons and bows.
Seras thought that was the end of it, so when the servants turned away to get more materials, Seras hopped down and took to the halls.
She saw Walter watering a plant in the hallway, smiled, and ran up to greet him. He gasped on seeing her and dropped the small watering pail.
Taking this as a good sign, Seras twirled before him and spread out her arms as though to say, "How do I look?"
He covered his eyes with a hand. "You… Um, you look lovely, my dear. But, um… D-didn't the w-women expl…?" He sighed, "CARLOTTA!"
As Walter never yelled, she came running. When she spotted Seras, she gasped. "Oh, my dear! Come along now, let's finish your dressing!"
'There's more?!' Seras thought miserably.
After she pushed Seras safely through the door, Carlotta turned back to chuckled with Walter, who was good-natured enough to do the same.
Most of the other servants didn't have Carlotta or Walter's the sense of humor about it. Seras' behavior only raised even more questions of where she came from to think this was acceptable. She was too light to be from the "African" or "Indian" countries (unfortunately, these women were products of their time) and yet she thought it acceptable to run around in her unmentionables?
"Maybe she's American?" one of the women suggested, and that seemed to settle it.
Once they put her to right, the women added another petticoat and put over Seras, followed by the very thick, heavy fabric of her overskirt and puff-sleeved "jacket."
For reasons Seras could never know, a slim figure was considered ideal for women, yet they had so many layers of thick clothes. To make up for this, said clothes were often tight to constrict the women's bodies down to thinness. Seras didn't understand. Why not just wear one or two layers of loose fabrics and just stay slim that way? Why add so many layers made of thick fabrics and then pull them tight?
The short answer is Northern Europe is a very cold place to live, so the layers were for warmth as much as anything else. Since Seras had been a mermaid that lived in cold waters that would freeze a human to death if they stayed in too long (she got the Count out just in time), Seras didn't even notice the cold.
Even odder to Seras, human women's clothes were tight in some places like the waist and forearms, but very poofy in others like the shoulder sleeves, bust and skirt. Supposedly this was to accentuate their figures, so that their breasts and hips seemed bigger and their waists seemed smaller. Seras once overheard one of the servants talking about how she wished she had an "hour-glass figure." Not until seeing an hourglass did Seras realize what she meant.
"Oh, look at her, she's so beautiful!"
"You're so lucky to have such a naturally slim waist and such a large bosom, Miss!"
"The Count will be so pleased to look at you!"
Seras didn't quite like it. It seemed so thick, heavy, and hard to move in. She would have liked better to run around in just her chemise and stockings, or just wear the layers up to her frilly white camisole and petticoat (which looked rather light and pretty) instead of this… thing. She who had always dreamed of frolicking along fields of flowers on the surface found this quite cumbersome.
The Count was also only mildly pleased when he saw Seras in her new dress, which made it all the worse. She sat awkwardly at tea, and tried to get comfortable in her chair despite having too many skirts. When he saw that she was not pleased, he immediately ordered all of her old clothes disposed and replaced with new ones.
Seras felt bad for the tailor since he had worked so hard only to have his work thrown out.
The Count stood in the same room as the foundling and the tailor. Seras once again stood on a bucket, in front of a three-way mirror, in her white chemise and stockings, where no less than three women servants stood beside her to steady her and act as chaperones. Meanwhile, the old tailor muttered to himself as he got out his tools.
"Wanted the most fashionable lady's clothes in all of London, doesn't like the material… Would have known it wasn't the right material if he bothered to look first…"
Seras simpered and tried not to squirm under the Count's scrutiny.
He then snapped his fingers.
"It may be old fashioned, but I have an idea," he said.
A few days later, Seras looked at herself curiously in the mirror as the servants put her in dresses of soft silks and muslins. The Count had also ordered thinner, lighter, airier cottons for her undergarments instead of linens, and a more flexible "training corset" (like for young girls) tailored to her size.
As previously stated, corsets by their very nature are not uncomfortable or torturous. A well-measured, well-tailored, well-adjusted one can actually be quite snug and comfortable, though it's also important not to tighten laces too quickly. Much like soft, loose, flexible training bras meant to get young girls used to the feel before moving onto the harder materials today, most young girls of the time started off with softer, looser corsets till their bodies adjusted for harder, tighter ones.
Unfortunately, the tailor and most of the maids had assumed Seras wore corsets most of her life, as we might assume a random girl we meet has worn a bra most of her teen and adult life. While Seras winced and pouted, the staff assumed it was due to her already abysmal manners. They did not even conceive that she might not have worn many (or any) structural garments before, and so tailored the rigidity and tightened the laces accordingly.
Only the Count guessed, and so ordered the materials softened and loosened accordingly.
Presently, Seras looked at her reflection, and rather liked what she saw.
"There. Much better, isn't it?" Carlotta asked as she smoothed the sleeves.
Seras could not help smiling, and running her fingers over the soft, loose, light material.
"The Count has ordered at least six such dresses for you, so that you may never run out," Carlotta said.
Seras felt deeply gratified.
"You are so lucky to have a benefactor like Count Dracula taking such good care of you!" one of the younger maids said.
Seras smiled fondly. She knew deeply how lucky she was, and smiled dreamily.
"Lucky? She looks like my grandma!" one of the servants said.
"Gertrude!"
"I haven't seen dresses like that since my grandma's attic. What could the Count be thinking, putting her in something so old-fashioned?"
"The count himself is very indifferent to fashion," Carlotta said patiently, smoothing Seras' sleeves over. "Besides, it suits her, does it not?"
"So did the old clothes, but he threw those out like last year's fashion—"
"Which he would have kept, since the Count is indifferent to the times," Carlotta winked at Seras through the mirror.
Carlotta's words were kind, but Gertrude's words had planted the seed of doubt in Seras.
She moved around experimentally. The new clothes were still more constricting for Seras' liking, but then this was the same girl that refused to grow her hair out most of her life because it dragged when she wanted to swim and dart fast as a blink. The newer materials of airy cotton, silk and muslin were much more to her liking.
In fact, if truth be told, Seras grew to like her new clothes. She loved how soft they felt beneath her fingers, and how they looked and felt when they fanned out. She often leaned down to run her fingers over her skirts, then grab fistfuls and throw them up as she twirled in place.
Soon the problem the staff had with Seras trying to sneak out of her clothes got transferred to her playing with her clothes. ("No, no, no. You're not to touch those with your bare hands. You'll spoil the fabric with your grubby hands. Here, wear these gloves.") She also loved feeling the skirts brush against her legs as she took long steps and danced with imaginary partners.
"It is quite charming, isn't it?" Walter smiled.
Seras turned suddenly, then relaxed and smiled on seeing Walter.
"So sorry to interrupt, but I would have come to inform you that his eminence wishes for you to join him for - what we British call - 'a spot of tea.'"
Seras beamed openly and bounded forward like an excited child.
She practically ran down the hall in her excitement to see him, but then paused nervously as she neared the stairs. Gertrude's words clung like a vine. She took a deep breath to steady herself and then descended the stairs.
When he saw her approach in her new white muslin summer dress, decorated with girlish ribbons and flowers that suited her innocent, feminine, youthful beauty (more than the professional "New Woman" suit fashion ever could), his beamed up at her.
"Ah, my dear little foundling!" he exclaimed as he went to greet her.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.
She blushed and beamed with pride.
"You shall never leave my side. I will take you in as my ward so that I shall have you beside me, always," he said.
Seras sighed in rapture, and felt she could both faint and float away, her heart was so aflutter.
"Are you sure that is wise, sir?" Walter said. "She might have a family of her own."
"That is why I ordered you look into it," the Count said, rather dismissively.
"Indeed, sir," Walter sighed.
The Count then led Seras by the hand over to the tea room (quite fashionable in English homes and now having a purpose now that he possessed a guest to entertain). In it sat a small round tea table, which was covered with white lace cloth and covered with all manner of pretty little china tea pots, cups, saucers, and sandwiches. It contrasted little with the parlor, which had a deeper, richer feel of neo-classic paintings, Renaissance tapestries, and plush furniture. Seras did not care, though. It was all beautiful and decorative to her. She took her seat among the pretty ensemble, feeling as radiant as a princess.
"How goes the search?" the Count asked, but he did not care a whit.
He had eyes only for the little foundling sitting before him.
"Ah, I have looked into it most extensively, sir, on your orders," Walter explained as he prepared the tea.
He told of all the inquires he sent to the various shipping companies, asking about any sort of lost vessels, news of storms, any ship wrecks, etc. He told of the inquiries made to eye witnesses of the area, but no one had seen or heard anything of any sort of storm, sunken ship, or girls dressed in rags running around.
He had not finished explaining when the Count held up a hand. "That will do, Walter."
Walter bowed. "Very good, sir," and said no more on the subject.
The Count smiled roguishly at Seras, as though they shared in a secret that those other people, such as the likes of Walter, would never understand.
Seras beamed and assented. She did not wish to leave the Count's side any more than he did.
The search continued for the next several weeks, but lost its force and eventually petered out. Despite their diligence, no one could find any information on anything matching Seras' description or circumstances. No storms or ships in the time frame it would have taken for her to be washed up on their shore, no missing persons that matched her description and location (of course there were missing girls around her age and countenance, but none in the time and place she could have ended up), and no information that could help them beyond shallow clues.
Seras did not seem to have any interest going back. The staff asked her questions about where she was from. They gave her a map to point to and paper and pens to write with, but all she did was point to the ocean.
"You're from across the sea?"
"In the Americas?"
"I knew it!" one of the servants hissed.
But Seras would give no hint beyond merely pointing.
She always seemed so happy until someone asked about where she came from, then her smile dropped.
Most of the servants guessed endlessly about this. Some guessed she was a wealthy girl whose ship was lost to sea, like Maudy, while others found this dubious. Since there were no storms or lost ships that they knew of for the time frame to get her onto their beach, some guessed that maybe she jumped or was thrown overboard? While highly gracious and graceful in her manner, she did not seem to understand the basic manners, like table manners, greetings, walking, etc. She did not seem to know or enjoy any of the gentler arts, like reading, writing, drawing, sewing, flower-arranging, playing instruments, etc.
Certainly she was willing when paper, paints, and instruments were set before her, but she had absolutely no skill at it. Her drawings and paintings were the scribbles of toddlers, and she pecked at the piano keys and plucked at the harp strings without any understanding or melodies or rhythms.
"Perhaps you might find this helpful, my dear?" Walter said, placing sheet music before her.
Seras' face dropped, and she looked down at her fingertips with embarrassment.
"You can't read it, can you?" Walter asked.
She looked down in shame.
Her hair was quite a mystery, for in this time in history women NEVER cut their hair or wore it short, any more than they went out without clothes. The only women that did were confined to crowded insane asylums or orphanages, where their hair was chopped off to prevent the spread of typhus, or was cut by local wig-makers in need of human hair.
Since her manners were abysmal, and her understanding of basic social niceties were lacking, and she was found naked on a beach, and her hair was chopped short and jagged, and she seemed very unhappy when asked where she was from, and would only point to the sea when pushed: the general consensus was that she was from an asylum of some kind (perhaps for the insane), either from here or from across the sea. She was probably being moved via ship, but then either the ship sank or she fell off it (on purpose or by accident, by herself or some other hand), and she was washed up on this shore. The general consensus was also that the trauma left her mute.
"Perhaps she was the embarrassing secret of some noble family?" said Maudy, who had not given up on guessing that she was from a good family. "You often hear of it. Of wealthy families keeping their girls locked away on account of being deaf."
"She's mute, not deaf," one of the servants said.
"Aren't they one and the same?"
Several ashamed faces shook from side to side.
Certainly, the Count did not care a whit. Princess, duchess, milkmaid, servant; he did not care what she was as long as she was beside him.
When a few concerned servants approached the Count to let him know of their worry in his keeping a potentially dangerous asylum escapee running around the castle, he gave them such a severe tongue lashing that a few cried as they left his study. In the first place, they did not even know if that was where she was from. If she was, she had proven herself so harmless so far that there was no need to suspect any danger.
As he said this, the girl darted through the hall so fast she knocked over a large decorative vase, started at the crashed, then whirled on her feet and dashed down the halls again.
The servants looked at him.
"Well, no person was harmed."
Walter sighed and covered his eyes with his fingertips.
Most of the staff found his fondness for the girl quite odd. Their reclusive master, who often grew bored of polite company and could not even listen through as the staff informed him of whatever problem or news before he waved them away, never grew tired of the company of his "little foundling."
It did not matter to him that he did not know where she came from, what her station used to be, what her family lineage was. While the Count was obviously noble-born and filled with many courtly graces and manners when he felt like it, he did not care a whit that she did not have any. She could be the daughter of a duke or the bastard offspring of some steel factory worker, and it would mean all the same to him. He knew only that he liked her now, and wished to keep her now.
In fact, the Count was as good as his word and took his little foundling with him everywhere he went. Seras in turn was deeply pleased to accompany him wherever he may. He summoned her to dine with him at every meal, took her to afternoon teas he did not even start having until after she arrived, brought her to the parlor to keep him company as he read, and invited her along as he gave orders to various servants throughout the castle and grounds, and even explored the grounds when he saw that she was curious to see more of them.
The only thing grander than the castle were the gardens, lawns, farms and forests surrounding it. The Count owned such an intricate courtyard just outside the castle, which had maze-like gravel walkways, marble statues, pretty benches, wild-looking plants and flowers of many kinds, and fountains; all surrounded by high stone walls. Beyond the courtyard lay vast gardens, grass-covered grounds, cultivated fields and forests in the distance.
The Count was quite proud of his possessions, and was even more gratified to see his little foundling admire them so. He brought her along for when he gave orders to his gardeners and groundskeeper, and smirked in amusement as she paused to smell every flower, run her fingers along the leaves of every shrub, sit on each bench, and splash at the water of each fountain. He even chuckled when he looked back to find her standing under a low hanging tree so she could peek out from the branches.
"Does this please you, my little foundling?" he asked as he picked a twig out of her hair.
Seras beamed. 'Very much!'
He smirked in gratification when they left the courtyard and she saw just how vast his grounds were, extending all the way to the horizon. The grounds were so vast they needed many gardeners and a grounds keeper, who lived in a small cottage so he could tend to them far more easily.
Seras marveled at the little cottage when they drew near. The Count thought it was because she thought it quaint, but Seras thought it was amazing. She wished she could sleep in a little wooden house like that so she could be surrounded by flowers and nature. She so loved all the pretty shrubs and flowers, and the song birds and insects that gathered around them. The castle was nice, but it was rather large, dark, and empty for Seras' liking.
When he pointed out that there was still so much more to see beyond that, she was quite beside herself. She even stood on her tiptoes to try to get a better look.
The Count chuckled. "We must bring you a horse so that you may join me for my daily ride."
Seras nodded.
However, when his horse was brought out for his daily ride, Seras started back in fear. It was a massive black stallion with a terrible disposition. It snorted, threw its head, and pawed at the ground. It took a few grooms holding tight with ropes to keep it in line.
Seras had seen humans riding horses from a distance before, but they always seemed rather small and tactile from afar. Up close, she could see its rippling muscles, hear the deep roaring neighs, feel the thunder of its hooves pawing and stomping on the ground, and see them men struggle to keep the stallion from pulling the ropes loose and running off.
However, the Count grabbed it and mounted it easily. When he turned back, his foundling was hiding behind one of the grooms.
"Will you not assist me on my ride?"
The girl shook her head.
"Do you know how to ride?"
She again shook her head.
"Will you not sit before me on my saddle?"
She timidly stepped forward. When the stallion snorted, she flinched and shook her head.
The Count scoffed.
"Captain Bernadotte!"
"Oui?"
"Teach her how to ride."
"Mai oui!"
And with that, the Count rode off.
Seras watched in mortification.
They were visibly cooler over dinner. The Count was not quite as doting on her and Seras was not quite as radiantly cheerful around him. Seras felt it was her fault because she refused to go with him.
The Count then ordered a riding habit to be made for her so she could accompany him on horseback.
As soon as that came underway, she was ready to start her riding lessons. The captain had told her the first time that there was no point to it since she was afraid of horses, and not dressed for it anyway.
Seras had sighed in annoyance. Not dressed for it! Did humans have to have a dress for everything? Dress for tea, dress for dinner, dress for walks, dress for bed; even dress for bath! And now a dress for riding too! Couldn't they just have one dress for everything? Just be able to run off and do what they wanted without having to dress for it? Certainly the Count dressed the same for everything!
Speaking of the Count, Seras wondered why he wasn't teaching her as she walked down for her first lesson. Certainly he liked having her with him at all times, but he also liked to pass her off to servants when it came time to teach her something. When it came to drawing, painting, sewing, and making music, he always passed her off to a servant to teach her.
Speaking of servants, they were starting to make Seras crazy with their demands. While Seras had grown to love her light silks and muslins, to run her fingers over and twirl her skirts so she could feel them fan out, she still could not stand to wear her gloves or wigs.
This was something Seras and the servants fought heavily on.
The servants insisted that her hair was far too short to ever be seen in public; and of course proper ladies should never go without gloves.
Seras thought she wasn't a proper lady as she slipped them off with a frown.
The wig was hot, itchy, and uncomfortable. She could barely see thought the fake bangs, and she could think of nothing else until she took it off. The gloves were a bit hot and uncomfortable too, but they felt more stiff and confining. They were like corsets for her hands, keeping her from moving them easily, or touch things.
Seras, who came to the surface to see and touch the world above like she always dreamed, was not going to be confined by wigs or gloves.
So there Seras was in the antechamber, standing awkwardly in her riding habit, waiting for the captain to come escort her to the stables.
When none of the servants were looking, she lifted her hat, slipped off her wig, and let it drop to the ground. Then, thinking better of it, she scooted it with her foot under a china hutch with low legs.
She was just trying to stuff it under with her boot when the captain arrived.
"All right, ready for your first lesson?"
She turned around, smiled and nodded.
"What happened to your wig?" he asked casually as they headed out.
She placed her hat back on her head and smiled as though to say, "This is all I need!"
(Oh, speaking of which, Seras couldn't understand why she had to wear a wig of fake long hair when she was already putting a hat on top of it.)
"All right," he said, unable to care less, as they headed out. "I'll tell them you lost it."
Seras blinked, and then grinned.
As they approached the stables, Seras' mirth over "losing" her wig got replaced with her earlier trepidation over getting close to horses. She heard some loud neighing from inside, and was afraid they would all be like her master's black stallion.
Pip had his own thoughts.
Most riding instructors at this time would have taught a wealthy young woman how to ride by getting the horse ready for her, then starting the lesson from the moment she got on the horse. Having grown up on a farm and having worked with horses from a very young age, Pip felt a fundamental disdain for people that did not get the horses ready themselves. Especially fashionable wealthy gentry, who simply came out in their fancy riding attire, mounting the fully brushed and tacked horse, and then dismounted and passed their horses off to the servants to get washed and stabled as they moved onto other amusements. They treated their animals like little more than tools to provide an amusing diversion to their eternal boredom, like a mallet to play crochet or a tea set to drink out of, then simply passed them away to someone else to clean and put away once the amusing diversion had run its course.
Since Pip was the instructor for a riding lesson, he felt determined that she would take as few shortcuts as possible.
"Most instructors would probably just get your horse ready for you to ride, and your lesson would start there," he said. "But I'm not simply going to teach you how to ride. I'm going to teach you how to get your horse ready. You cannot truly understand riding, or your horse, unless you understand the work that goes into it."
Seras listened and nodded nervously. She was a little disheartened. She had hoped the lesson would be as short as possible so she could leave as soon as possible.
As they entered the stables, they passed many rough men that she recognized from the Wild Geese. They hailed their captain ("Sorry, 'former captain'"), who grinned and greeted them back, and many of them made inquiries about the foundling.
She didn't play much attention though because she was nervous about what she had to do.
He brought her to a stall where a beautiful dappled grey poked its head out.
Seras stiffened. It wasn't as huge or agitated-looking as the Count's stallion, but it was still big to a girl who had never seen a horse up close before.
It mostly ignored Seras and made low throaty noises toward the captain.
Seras was to learn later that this was a horse's nicker. Not quite as loud as a neigh, but a similar sound through their closed lips and nostrils. A noise of joyful greeting, excitement, or beckoning. Seras was to learn that horses usually made this sound toward horses or humans they liked. Particularly humans who always came bearing gifts.
The captain then took out a long, orange, pointed thing, which Seras was later to learn was called a "carrot," and held it out to the horse. It eagerly bit off the tip chewed, creating loud, deep crunching sounds.
"Best way to start off with a good first impression," he said, and handed the carrot to Seras.
She stared at it dubiously, but when the horse eagerly started nibbling at it she held it out like she was holding a match to dynamite. She gained a little more confidence when the horse bit into the carrot instead of her arm, though accidentally dropped it a few times because she wasn't used to holding it still while the horse chomped or broke off the thicker end.
"See? He likes you already," the captain said, and gave Seras another carrot to give to the horse.
It was so large and gangling. Such a long face, big pointy ears, and such loud breaths. It also had long hair that fell over its forehead and neck, much like a mermaid's or human's hair. Maybe it was like one of the kelpies Seras had heard of? It smelled what Seras liked to call "land scene" that she sometimes got from the men that she watched from afar: of deep musk, dust, and what she would later identify as sawdust, sweat, and other things. Seras was wary of its every move, but smiled when it eagerly ate the carrot.
"Careful he doesn't eat too much at once," the captain said as he came back with some tack. "He can choke on it."
Seras immediately pulled back.
"Best to let him take a bite, then after he swallows that you can give him more."
Seras tried again, but the horse was too crafty and tried to break off half.
"Another good way is to break off a piece and give it to him," and Pip showed her by breaking off a piece the size of his thumb and fed it to the horse, palm up.
Seras tried doing that too.
"Careful to keep your fingers away from his mouth. They can bite."
Seras immediately drew her hand back, and from then on was always careful about laying her palm flat and her fingers AWAY from their lips to keep from being bitten.
"Since you're new to this, I'll lead him and saddle him up today," Pip said.
He'd slipped what was called a halter on the horse's face while Seras was feeding him. The horse didn't seem to care. All he wanted was more carrots. When she'd finished, Pip opened the lower end of the stall door (the higher end was already opened so the horse could poke its head out), and led it out. Seras stepped back and tiptoed along apprehensively.
Horses looked so strange compared to what she was used to. They were such long, bony, pointed, gangling things. So many odd shapes in one creature. Seras had seen many strange creatures in the sea, but the oddest of them were small like sea crabs, urchins, cuttle fish, and other things. For creatures larger than merfolk, Seras was used to large, plump, oval, buoyant creatures with only small fins on their bodies, like seals, dolphins, porpoises, and whales. Also sharks, squids, and other creatures of the deep. Their bodies were all streamlined for swimming, and their limbs small and flat, but broad for paddling. Even sea turtles, odd things, were meant to float, swim, and paddle. (Octopuses at least looked like squid, even if they were so weird with large round heads, eyes, and eight tentacles.)
Horses just had these strange oval bodies that looked like three boulders lined up and covered in fur. Out of the front boulder sprang this long neck that was flat on the sides, with this little long face that again looked like three little rocks lined up. Under the front and back boulders were these long, bony, awkward props that Seras guessed passed for legs. She had seen humans and dogs with legs, but these...? And behind the last boulder was a tail, made of long hair like the kind on the horse's or mermaid's neck.
It just looked strange. Seras had never seen anything like it before. It was so foreign to her, the little mermaid that had never left the sea except to watch and later join humans from afar.
It would be tedious to go over every detail of the lesson, but the long and short of it is there were a lot of steps to remember. The captain had gotten out a bucket full of tools and bade Seras to help brush its fur, "mane" (the hair on its head and neck) and tail while he got it ready. At first Seras brushed gingerly because she was afraid to hurt, spook, or anger it.
The captain eventually looked over her shoulder and said, "Ah, you're barely touching it! Here, like this."
And he stood behind her, grabbed the back of Seras' hand, and applied much more pressure as she brushed it. He also redirected her hand so she brushed in large sweeping circles instead of back and forth. For the second time in her life, Seras was aware of just how uncomfortably close she was to the captain, and how she could feel his forceful energy, presence, and strength. He was so warm and strong; she could feel the heat radiating from his body as well as she could feel his strong hand on hers, clothed and gloved as they were. Could smell that deep smell of dust, musk, sweat and spices.
Her attention drew away from him only to notice that brushing so hard in circles caused loose fur to come up, and the horse's lower lip to quiver. Seras was afraid she was hurting it and tried to stop. Pip had to explain this was a good thing. Horses were always shedding and you have to get rid of the extra fur since it'll be less itchy for them, and more comfortable to put a saddle and a person over the fur.
Seras obliged, but still felt concern for that quivering lip. When she saw an opportunity, she pointed at it.
"Oh, that? That means he likes it."
Seras must have given a very comically skeptical look, because he laughed. "Yeah, I know, you've probably heard a lot of horsemen say 'the horse likes it' when they mistreat it..."
Seras hadn't heard anyone say it, but was immediately altered to how wrong that was. Was it really so common? Did horsemen really say this often enough that this was the first thing he guess? Unfortunately, it wasn't the last time Seras heard it either.
Meanwhile, the captain explained, "See, horses groom each other when they can. They itchy from time to time just like you and me, but they can't reach over with their hand to scratch like you and I can, and rolling on their backs only does so much..." (Seras was surprised to hear this, and looked at the huge animal. They really rolled on their backs? How? Their legs were so long and rigid! How did they get back up again?) "So another horse uses his long teeth to comb through his fur like... well, a comb, or a back-scratcher. They do it for each other, so when you've found the sweet spot, his lip twitches like crazy."
Thus saying, he scratched along the horse's back until he found that "sweet spot" that made the horse's lower lip quiver. He then started scratching harder, digging his fingers into it until both the horse's lips were wiggling like mad and its teeth were chewing an imaginary carrot. After a while it got so nuts it tried to reach over and bite at the captain's shoulder.
"See? He's trying to return the favor."
To Seras, it looked like the horse was biting at him to stop.
Once he did, the horse's lips stopped twitching, it shook itself over with a loud snort, then went back to standing in a more relaxed position.
"Now you try."
'No thank you,' Seras thought, and she didn't for a long time.
Far away, a horse spooked and started rearing and neighing while a few men tried to pull it down with a rope.
Seras got scared and looked from it to her own horse, like she was afraid the dapple grey was going to start rearing too.
"Ah, you don't need to worry about that. That's Dodger, the biggest scaredy cat ever to enter these stables. You don't need to worry about that with Old Grey, here. This beast is dynamite-proof," he said, and slapped on the shoulder several times, each time hard enough it echoed through the walls.
Seras winced and braced herself, but the horse barely seemed to feel it.
Seras was to learn later that the horse the captain taught her on was an old gelding, apply called "Old Grey." He used to be a fashionable riding horse, but recently spent more time pulling carriages and keeping the mares company. He was very calm, gentle, and experienced. "Dynamite-proof" as Pip called it, so he was perfect for "a delicate little lady such as yourself to ride."
Seras glared, and Pip laughed.
While Pip did most of the hard work, like putting on the halter, leading the horse out of the stall, and making sure it got brushed down and tacked up, he wanted the girl to be present and engaging through the whole thing. He wanted her to go to the stall to pet and feed the horse before it got taken out, to help walk it over to the tacking area, to help brush it down as he prepared the tack, and even help put the tack on when the occasion called for it.
While he did most of the hard stuff like slipping on the bridle, putting on the pad and saddle, clasping the girth (or strap around its belly), and so on, he called on her assistance when needed. Sometimes he would have her slip off the halter while he slipped on the bridle, since the two shouldn't be on at the same time. Sometimes he would have her clasp this clip here or that cinch there while he put this aside. If she struggled with it, he would step behind her and show her how rather than just doing it for her.
The other stable hands laughed about a lady having to tack up her own horse, but the captain laughed them off just as easily. He felt confident that it would help make the girl a better rider, and make her more comfortable on the horse since she was getting comfortable working with it on the ground. He was right, in the long run. While Seras was very nervous, flustered, and embarrassed at the beginning, she slowly started to feel more confident the more she did it over the next few weeks.
Unfortunately, this was counter-balanced by how much she struggled getting on the horse.
In this time in history, women rode sidesaddle. While some women opted to ride astride (or with their legs on either side), they were a very small minority that were looked down on by polite society. In the first place, woman always wore many aforementioned layers of long, thick skirts that were awkward and impractical to ride astride in. In the second place, seeing a woman publicly spread her legs to straddle an animal was considered "immodest" to the highest degree.
While the Count could care less about social norms, he also could care less about teaching. He simply ordered the riding habit and let the servants decide what kind of style to get Seras (though this time they knew better than to call for a thick corset or a riding jacket with heavy boning, and so she got a fashionable "New Woman" suit style like before, only softer, looser, and more comfortable) and how to teach her. Naturally, everyone just assumed she should learn sidesaddle.
In getting on the horse, there was theoretically no easier method in the world since she didn't have to worry about slinging her right leg over the horse's back, sit centered, and get her bearings while the Old Grey got his. (As opposed to sliding off one side or another, which would cause the horse to think it was time to move and cause confusion and difficulty for both of them. She simply had to get her butt on the saddle, then place her right leg over the pommel, or arched wooden grip sticking out of the left side of the saddle, which she could rest her right leg on like a perch so it would be easy to sit straight and center. Her right leg would be draped over the pommel, and her left leg under it, so it was little different from sitting straight up in a chair with her feet swept aside.
Unfortunately, whoever invented this method had not anticipated Seras.
Pip explained that his job was to help her get on the saddle. He would kneel before her and place his cupped hands in front of her, palms up. Her job was to bunch up her skirts so her left foot was exposed. (Seras did not miss that lecherous smile when he saw her feet and leg exposed to the knee, and she was very tempted to kick him with it.) She was then to place her left foot in his cupped hands and step upon it like a stair, while at the same time he lifted his hands up to help to hoist her onto the horse, so she was gracefully lifted into the saddle.
Can you see where the trouble started?
Seras must have made every mistake in getting on the horse any woman could possibly make. Placed her foot in his cupped hands, but not push off at the same time he lifted up, causing a lot of pain on his end and awkwardness on hers. Pushed off at the same time he lifted up, but didn't gain enough momentum to get on the saddle. Got enough momentum to get on the saddle, but not stay on, and instead slipped off.
Failed to gain enough momentum again but clutched the pommel for support, causing the entire saddle to slide down the left side with her and the horse to whinny in consternation. Tried to kick off the his hands too hard, only to gain too much momentum, scale clear over the saddle and fall off the other side. Successfully get her right leg on the pommel, only to lean too far back, causing the horse to swerve, causing her to fall off from the right side. Got her skirt caught on the pommel before she could get her leg on it, so she had to dismount and try again. Nearly fell off again so desperately threw her entire torso over the horse to try to catch herself, only to find herself draped over it like a blanket. (The other stable hands laughed themselves a fit to die.)
Successfully did all of the previous steps, only to get her skirt tangled in her legs, then didn't hear Pip say he'd take care of it. As her male riding escort, it was actually his job to smooth her skirt after she was successfully on the horse and her right leg on the pommel. Since he didn't tell her he'd do this beforehand, she tried to do this herself, only to lean forward and accidentally signal the horse to start moving before she was ready. This caused her to instinctively lean forward and clutch its neck, which only caused it to go faster.
Seras was mute, and so couldn't scream when the horse ran away with her, but she was scared.
At first, Seras had not been worried about balance or falling since she grew up in the ocean. Underwater, she had neutral buoyancy, or just floated there like astronauts just floating in zero gravity space. She only had to flip her fins or hands to move, just as astronauts have to push off something. At any rate, she was more afraid of being so close to the horse than afraid to fall off. She could feel the firm leather, and the rise and fall of the horse's chest as it breathed. When it moved, she could feel its muscles ripple as it walked. It made her very nervous.
However, by the fourth time she fell off the horse, Seras knew just how harsh a mistress gravity is on the surface than land.
"Are you all right?" Captain Bernadotte asked, as he knelt beside her, after the fifth time she had fallen to the ground.
She signaled that she was all right.
"All right, then dust yourself off so you can get back on."
'What?!' Seras thought miserably, and picked up a handful of grass and straw and angrily threw them up in the air.
"Hey, come on, now. What's the first thing you do when you get bucked off a horse?"
'Call it quits and go answer Walter's summons for tea?'
Every now and then Walter came out during lessons to let her know it was time for tea. His timing was always Seras' salvation, but of course she had this sadistic instructor that always either made her help put the horse away, or... he had it still tacked up and waiting for her to complete the lesson when she got back.
"No, you get back on. Come on."
If Seras had a voice to scream, she would have growled or snarled at him.
At first her lessons were pretty simple. Get on the horse, stay on the horse, and practice keeping a correct posture while on the horse. Captain Bernadotte would attach the horse's bridle to a long rope, called a lunge line, and he would have the Old Grey walk in circles around him while Seras practiced just staying on. The idea was to get her used to to how it felt to ride a moving horse, as well as practice keeping her back straight and facing forward while the horse moving. Easier said than done with her legs draped off to the left side and her back constantly aching, since it had to hold up her large breasts, twist around despite the rigidity of her corset and riding habit, and twist away from where here back naturally wanted to face.
Eventually they moved onto more complicated methods, like getting the horse to go from a walk to a slow trot. He would also have the horse turn around and to the other way while doing lunges, so the girl could get used to the horse moving and turning suddenly. He also started teaching her how to control the horses movements with the reigns. It was very easy, he said, she just needed to tug the reign she wanted the horse to move the direction of. (Want it to turn right? Tug the right reign, etc.) Also that the harder she tugged the harder it turned, so let's start with light tugs to get it to walk in a smaller circle.
"I don't see why you're bothering with this, captain," one of his men said.
"Yeah, you're wasting your time trying to teach her how to ride. Since she's mute, she won't be able to ride on her own since Old Grey can't hear any commands."
This was a first time Seras heard anyone say she couldn't do something she was physically or mentally capable of doing just because she was mute (aside from talking, which was a given).
Thankfully, their captain didn't seem to buy it.
"Old Grey responds to physical commands though," Pip said, still lunging the horse. "As long as she can lean forward, nudge with her heels and crop, and tug the reigns, she should do just fine."
"Hmph!" his men turned away, "Next he'll be putting a blind girl on the animal."
Unfortunately, Seras still didn't have the best hand-eye coordination. On top of struggling to remember to keep good posture and not panic every time Old Grey so much as twitched, she had trouble remembering and applying directions. Captain Bernadotte often had to remind her to tug the reigns harder so the horse could physically feel what she wanted him to do.
'Stop' Seras thought, but dared not.
He also had to remind her that she had to lean in the direction she wanted him to go as well as tug the reigns. That she had to lean forward when she wanted him to move and lean back when she wanted him to stop. That on top of leaning forward, she had to nudge his sides with her left leg WHILE tapping on his right side with her riding crop to make up for the fact that she wasn't riding astride. ("Otherwise you'd be squeezing with both legs" he said). Seras would sometimes want the Old Grey to move right but accidentally kick with her left leg; it was a mess.
It was also very easy for her to lose her balance and fall off, and some of the stable hands thought it would be fun to try to spook the horse to see what would happen. They got their wish as she fell a few times. It was all fun and games until the day her skirt got caught on the pommel of the saddle, and she got dragged along until the horse ran too close to the corral fence and she clunked her head audibly hard before finally falling down.
"Ah, merde!" Pip said as he rushed to her.
He helped her sit up, and she was swaying where she sat and her eyes were rolling around. That wasn't not good.
"Ma cher, how many fingers am I holding up?" he demanded, holding up three.
She tried to focus for a moment, then held up four - no wait, five fingers. She corrected herself.
"Ah, I knew it," he said, and helped her up. "Let's get you inside."
'Are lessons over then?' Seras though wearily as he led her into the swaying castle.
Back inside the castle, neither Walter nor the maids were very pleased with him.
"How could you let her fall so many times?!"
"I didn't 'let' her, she has bad balance."
"So you just kept letting her get on the horse that way instead of doing something to prevent it?!"
"Just short of letting her ride astride, I don't see what else I could have done to prevent it!"
"I thought you said the Old Grey was dynamite-proof!"
"He is! But even the gentlest horses aren't completely still."
"And clearly provoked by less than dynamite, since I didn't hear explosions from the manor!"
While they chewed him out, Seras looked drowsy as she held a wet cloth to her head. She was already starting to develop a fever, which would soon spike and she would have to lay in bed for a few days while the fever ran its course.
She felt strangely serene though. She wanted to say, "It's all right, everyone. I'm not scared anymore. I used to think the horse would try to hurt me, but he doesn't. He's the sweetest thing. The only thing that hurts is falling off, but I can prevent that. If I just stay away from fences, I know I'll be fine."
But she couldn't speak, and no one would have listened anyway.
When they brought this matter to the Count's attention, he placed his hand under her chin and examined her face.
"She's fine," he said casually. "Just put her to bed so she can sleep this off."
"With all due respect, my lord, she hit her head pretty hard..."
"With all due disregard, there's not much danger in that. She doesn't have much of a head to damage..."
The fever eventually overtook Seras and she was taken to her room, where the servants dressed her for bed and draped the covers over her for the first time since she arrived.
Both of my parents are horse people. My mom is a horse vet while my dad is a former horse trainer, from a family of horse showmen and women. They met each other through their professions and I grew up being around and riding horses most of my childhood and early teenhood. Today, I pass my firsthand knowledge and riding experience to you, including the time I hit my head and developed a bad fever from it.
I had to look up what riding sidesaddle entails though, because I have no firsthand experience.
