slipper — SpankLit

Doctor’s Orders

Doctor’s Orders is a tale of novel diagnosis, corrective remedies, and one young woman’s regrettable visit to the Netherby surgery. When Miss Patricia Featherstone seeks a cure for her chronic ennui, she discovers that Dr Blythe’s prescription is rather more hands-on than she anticipated. Treatment may be swift, but recovery costs her dignity, and complicates the seating arrangements.

Act I: Diagnosis and a Dreadful Prescription

The village surgery of Dr Algernon Blythe was a place of respectable gloom. The oak furniture was heavy and dark, the shelf was filled with vials that suggested unspeakable cures, and the anatomical posters looked suspiciously outmoded. The waiting room carried the inexplicable odour of all medical practices: camphor, boiled sweets, and repression.

Into this scene swept Miss Patricia Featherstone. Known as Patsy to most, and to some as “Not Her Again”. She trailed the scent of Chanel No. 5, blended with a whiff of faint indignation. Her sunglasses were unapologetically out of place. In any case, she was a young lady who never apologised anyway.

The Curator’s Misstep

By #ClementineAshe

When an ambitious young museum curator oversleeps on the morning of Little Dithering’s grand exhibit launch, she finds herself learning about history in a far more hands-on manner than she ever anticipated. Expect stern discipline, scandalised dignitaries, and one unforgettable contribution to the living arts — all under the watchful eye of Lady Hawtrey’s slipper.

Act I: Making an Exhibition of Oneself

In the long and sometimes draughty annals of the Little Dithering Historical Society, there were few exhibits which generated as much drama as Discipline Through the Ages.

Lady Hawtrey, the Society’s chairwoman and undisputed sovereign of museum matters, surveyed the preparations with the air of a general preparing for battle. Her hair was drawn back in a chignon so severe it seemed to exert its own gravitational pull, and her expression suggested that any exhibit falling short of perfection would face immediate and public execution. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk, missed nothing.