Downton Abbey Imagines and One Shots

Mary Crawley- Tight (c)

"It's too tight," you groaned attempting to swat the hands of the maid who was helping to do up your dress.

"It is meant to be milady," she said.

You tried to fight your way out of it but luckily the maid let go of the fabric, allowing you room to breathe. You span around so she couldn't reach the fastenings but ended up tangling yourself amongst the many skirts that made your bottom half look swollen.

"Y/N, are you causing trouble again?" You heard as your sister entered the room.

Mary was the eldest of you and your four sisters and although she was the one that got up to the most trouble she was seemed as the best. She was beautiful and elegant and any man who saw her wanted her. The other three of you just settled in her shadow but as your father was throwing a formal ball tonight, it was your chance to stand out in your own right, that was if you could get into your dress without suffocating.

"I wouldn't complain if I could breath," you frowned.

"If you couldn't breath then you wouldn't be complaining as you'd be dead. You're just dramatic," she retorted.

"She didn't even get it done up before I was struggling to breathe."

Mary rolled her eyes before dismissively waving her hand to your maid who quickly scurried from the room, glad to not have to help you dress any longer. Although you were capable of dressing yourself, there was no way for the wearer to actually get a dress like this on without at least one person assisting.

"You'll be fine. The seamstress took your measurements and knows how you complain about the fit of clothing so threw in an extra inch or so wherever she could. If you're not struggling to breathe now, you definitely will be after dinner," she laughed.

"Just try and do it up Mary but see if there's something snagged because it's too tight," you huffed.

Reluctantly she helped you. She pulled at the waist of your skirts, taking each layer separately until they all lay flush to your waist, with the laces pulled out behind you. Although still tight, as any formal dress was, you were able to take in air.

"What did you do?" You questioned, not feeling nearly as uncomfortable.

"One of your skirts was folded up and taking up room you needed," she explained. "Just breathe in and I'll get you done up. Papa will be wondering where we are."

You did as you were told until you were able to go downstairs where you would be forced to dance with strange men for the rest of the night.

~*~

Written by Charlotte.