I feel a strange, tightening sensation around my torso. The constriction is almost suffocating. Before I look down to see what it is that’s restricting my breathing, I take in the colossal, ornate room that I’ve found myself in. The extravagant, brass chandelier, with burning candles in each groove, hovers above me and the tall, intimidating fireplace growls with a fire. The long table that stretches across the room makes me feel tiny.

“Emma.” A voice pierces my reverie and I’m reminded of my confined chest.

“Emma, you will address your father with dignity and respect. Your impish behaviour is uncouth and must end now.” I look to the woman beside me, her eyes flaring with anger and indignation, and my skin prickles with cold and, weirdly, damp.

“Wha- excuse me?” Despite my confusion, I managed to stealthily correct my manners. This woman, with a stone-set mouth, brows firmly narrowed and a stare that would kill the fire cold, was clearly not a woman to vex.

With another flash of stealthiness, I lowered my head in shame, and gazed down to finally see what was constricting me so. A bodice of some sort. What the-?

The first voice - a man, I now realise with a bit more clarity in my mind - spoke up.

“Edward will be visiting for supper in two days time. If you were listening the first time instead of daydreaming and being away with the fairies, you would’ve heard me that he is to ask your hand in marriage.”

“You are to agree, Emma. No more fanciful trickery or intimidating mockery of the eligible men that proclaim to be your husband.” The woman scornfully added.

I gaped. What?! Where the fuck am I? Have I time-travelled? Am I dreaming? I’m dreaming; it’s just a nightmare. It feels so real though. It’s getting harder to breathe and I’m already breathless wearing this forsaken garment. But I reign in my panic quickly. Clearly these two unhinged people are oblivious to my abrupt and unfathomable arrival in this demented era.

And who was Emma? Their daughter, perhaps? I feel sorry for her, if she is. A scornful mother whose frown would scare off a pack of wolves and a father who is willing to marry her off to just anyone? Nah, mate.

I’ve got to back home. My era. I sit taller, rivalling the mother’s ruler-straight back. Honestly, if you placed her up against the wall, there’d be no gap between the two.

I timidly cleared my throat. This is where all my acting skills I’ve developed through the classes will shine through. “Yes, father.” My voice barely a squeak.

“Father?” The mother’s brows deepened, almost hanging over her eyes.

“Papa.” I reflected.

The mother growled, narrowing her eyes to barely slits. “You’re acting rather strangely, today, Emma. More so than usual, and that’s saying something. All the time you spend in the woods is clearly filling your head with nonsense and odd behaviour.”

The silence that followed the berating and belittling was louder than the pulse thrumming in my temples.

“You are to go to your room this instant. You shall not have supper this evening.” She said and then added. “And you are to continue with your needlework until the staff have retreated for the night. You may take an extra candelabra in order to see.”

What. The. Fuck? There’s no need to act now, I’m scared as shit.

Not knowing which way to exit this oppressive room, I stood slowly, trying to use my peripheral vision to spot which door is the main one. My hands firmly on the cold wooden table, hoping it would hide the tremors, I look at each of them and with the words lodged in my throat I managed an apology.

Ah, big mistake. Their eyebrows rose higher than my voice. It appears Emma is not so versed in apologising to her parents. So without another word, I took a chance and bolted for the double doors to my right. The bodice - the corset or whatever it is - seemed to sag a little, for I could breathe a little easier after escaping that madness.

The empty foyer made for a winning ticket to leave this place. I cringed as my loud and heavy footsteps bounced off the walls and the high ceiling as I approached the main doors to this prison of this house. I stopped short though because this blasted corset needs to come off and it needs to come off now - I can’t stand it any longer. I claw at the front, at the back, on the sides and nothing helps with loosening or untying the straps.

“Emma! What in the blazin’ ‘ells are yer doing?”

My heavy skirts swirled and curled around my legs as I spun to see where the voice was coming from. A rotund woman in a maids or servants outfit gawked at me waiting for an answer. I stuttered as I reached for a lie.

“I… I have an itch that I can’t quite reach. I was hoping to remove it so I can get to it easily.”

She strides towards me, cheeks wobbling like jelly as she shakes her head vigorously.

“You’ll have yer ears off if yer mother catches you behavin’ like that! That’s no way for a lady to act, Emma, darlin’.” She adds a tut for extra emphasis whilst loosening the straps on my back, her fingers working like chubby spider legs weaving a complicated web.

“Nah, then.” The woman steps back as if to see me more clearly. “I’ve been told you ain’t to have any supper, and that you must be in yer room for the rest of the night.” She narrowed her eyes at me and finished with accusation, “so why did you look like you were not only itching to get that itch off yer back, but itching to leave this house at this hour?”

Shit. Looks like I’m staying here for a while.