chapter 13 - special day pt 1

For once, there was more than enough food to go around at breakfast time.
It was such a feast that not even twelve hungry servants could finish it. When Mrs. Grissum peeked her head into the room and demanded that they get to work, the staff groaned as one and hoisted themselves from their seats, full and content. Delia, however, remained behind, gobbling up a few more slices of bacon before the back door opened and Colette appeared with a silver cart on wheels.
“Bonjour, Delia,” the Frenchwoman said. ‘Ow are you?”
“Very good,” Delia yawned, stretching her smooth arms over her head.
Colette smirked. “So, you enjoyed your breakfast, yes?”
“Ohh, yes. Hic! I could get used to such breakfasts.” Delia grinned tiredly, little white hands rubbing circles into her rounded middle.
Colette circled ‘round the table, admiring the estate’s newest servant from every angle. A few months catering to Catherine’s demands had rendered the girl rather round about the midriff in a way that fascinated the foreign cook. The slender shape of the girl who’d once wandered through the estate’s imposing gates still showed, yet the softened shape of her stomach and sides was impossible to ignore.
Standing above Delia now, Colette could see how the serving girl’s stomach surged out over her lap. The cook resisted the urge to join in rubbing the rounded mound, instead pinching at Delia’s cheek.
“Well, jou ‘ad best not get used to it. It makes ze servants sleepy. Up up! ‘Elp me wiz ze dishes.”
Delia hiccuped again, followed by a groan. Standing up, she found she was more full than she’d thought. She half-heartedly went about clearing the table, too occupied with the weight of her breakfest settling in her belly to preform efficiently. Once all the dishes were loaded up, Cosette went to drop the cart off with the washerwoman and Delia went to wait for her in the kitchen.
“Oof. Burrf. Hic!” Delia hiccuped as she hoisted herself atop the stone countertop. The swell of her belly against her plain beige dress made her look rather pregnant. She rubbed her middle absently, yawning. Catherine had promised to give her a reading lesson after breakfast, but Delia wondered whether she could take a nap instead….
Colette entered the kitchen to find Delia lying flat across her countertop, one hand resting on her round mound of a tummy.
“‘Ow are you feeling, mon amie?” Colette asked, smirking. “Did you ‘ave too much to eat?”
“Hm?” Delia’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh! No, I’m fine. Just a bit - hic! - drowsy is all.”
“Zen sit up. I ‘ave some-zing to show you.
Delia propped herself up with a huff, cupping her stomach. Colette disappeared down into the cellar and returned with a tray of eight thick, cookie-like pastries generously topped with buttercream frosting and either raspberry or blackberry jam.
Delia’s eyes lit up at the sight. “Oh! Is this what you made with the wild berries we found?”
“Mhm. Try one!”
Without hesitation, Delia picked up a square and took a big bite. The cookie was thick and chewy, and the sweetness of the frosting mixed with the fresh berry flavour made Delia forget about her fullness.
“It’s delicious!” she gushed, finishing her treat without trouble.
“Go ahead, have another,” Colette insisted. Delia blushed a little, avoiding Colette’s eyes as she picked a purple-topped pastry from the tray.
As she ate, Colette produced a large wicker basket and lined it with a cloth napkin. She placed the remaining six cookies inside and covered them with the basket-top.
“Here. Bring zese as a snack for later.”
“Alright.” Delia sighed and dropped off the counter, jostling her full belly. “Oof. Thank you for the breakfast, Colette. It was really - hic! - really good.”
Colette smiled appreciatively. “Jou are more zan welcome. Good-bye, mon amie!”
With a final wave, Delia picked up the basket of goodies and exited the kitchen.
0 0 0
The Wellington’s library was cozily cluttered with bookshelves, reading chairs, and writing tables. The walls were deep crimson and the shelves dark mahogany, giving the room a permanent feeling of dimness and warmth. Delia had spent many an afternoon slouched in one of the stately armchairs, napping off an after-lunch ‘snack’ while the Lady Catherine read quietly.
Or pretended to read, at least. It was hard for the heiress to focus on her novel when her handmaiden lay a few feet away, full and round and completely oblivious. Now that Delia had begun to fill out, it was even more difficult for Catherine to tear her eyes away. It was dizzying to remember how, at the beginning of the summer, Catherine had watched a much slimmer girl slumber in the very same spot. Now Catherine’s stick-like servant was beginning to look more like a gumdrop. She was becoming wider as her hips rounded and her sides softened, merging with her sizable belly. Her thin, frightened face had become smooth and serene. Catherine felt a little bad for how quickly the girl had grown - she had been rather pushy about it in the beginning - but she would have felt worse if Delia hadn’t taken to the lifestyle so enthusiastically. It had been months since Catherine had to encourage the pretty little maid to eat anything. Delia seemed more than content snacking of her own accord, now. Indeed, she had become so comfortable in her routine that Catherine often wondered if she wasn’t spoiling the girl.
She certainly looked spoiled now; slouched low in the goose-feather armchair and snoring gently, Delia looked every bit a plump, pampered princess. Which, of course, had been the goal. This was Delia’s special day; spoiling her was the name of the game. Looking down at her snoozing form, Catherine thought that they were off to a good start.