Chapter 5 - when the master's away... p1

On Thursday of the following week, Catherine left by carriage to Boston to meet her father's boat. Mr. Wellington had been gone on a long business trip to England, and was scheduled to return on that Sunday. With her went the head maid, Mrs. Grissum, who had been in charge of the household during Mr. Wellington's absence.

Catherine's pleas that Delia be allowed to accompany her were refused by the old maid, and it was with great reluctance that the blond heiress left to greet her father. She loved him very much, but when he was home all she ever heard from him was talk of marriage - he was quite anxious to have her married to a suitable man who could run his massive business when he was gone.

Delia was sad to see Catherine go too - she had grown closer to her mistress over the past few weeks, and now that she was gone, Delia didn't know what she was to do with her days.

Oh well, she thought to herself. At least I'll be able to eat more sparingly - these dresses are starting to be awfully tight. It'll be a welcome change to eat when I'm hungry and stop when I'm full.

To Delia's surprise, it was Colette who was put in charge of the household in the absence of master, mistress and head maid. The young cook ordered all of the staff into the ornate entry hall and immediately took charge, making Delia think that this was not the first time she'd been in command.

"I want zis 'ouse spotless by ze time ze master arrives," she said, the sudden hardness of her voice making Delia jump. "I will be making a full inspection before supper tonight, and if I find one speck of dust, it will be cold porridge for all of jou!"

A hushed murmur swept through the room as the staff began scurrying for their duties, obviously fearful of the French woman's wrath. She was one of the younger servants, not especially tall or ferocious, but she carried herself with a supreme confidence that came only by being a master at one's craft.

She then turned to Delia, smiling kindly. "Jou are my special assistant while ze mistress is gone, mon cher. Come with me." Like a duckling after its mother Delia followed, her little legs scrambling to keep up with Colette's long strides

Delia was relieved to be selected for this special job, as she had no experience cleaning anything and was certain she would have only mucked it up. She knew Colette somewhat from her many tips to the kitchen, and had always found her very kind - though from her unsubtle glances at her waist, Delia thought that she might know where all of her pastries were disappearing to.

The kitchen was a large room, with a polished wooden countertop for preparation, cupboards and closets for storage, and various herbs and spices hanging from the ceiling to dry. The smell flooded Delia's mouth with saliva. Colette pulled a wooden stool up to the counter and motioned for Delia to sit.

"'ere, come, sit. Would jou like anyzing to eat? We 'ave lots of leftover hash. I forgot zat Catherine would be missing breakfast and made too much."

Delia hesitated. With Catherine gone, she had decided to take the rare opportunity to eat a small breakfast. However, her body had become accustomed to an overabundance of food. She eyed the proffered platter of greasy potatoes longingly as the smell invaded her sinuses.

"I don't know," Delia said, subconsciously rubbing her treasonous middle. "I've been... eating a lot lately."

At that moment her stomach grumbled loudly.

"It sure doesn't sound like it," Colette said with a cheeky grin. "Catherine would not be 'appy if she came back to find her favorite maid 'ad starved under my care." She placed the sizable platter on Delia's lap, along with a fork. "Come, finish that up while I clean ze kitchen. Then we will start on lunch."

Colette began cleaning the dishes as Delia dug into the pile of potatoes with gusto. Colette watched the young maid eat from the corner of her eye.

Catherine has had quite the effect on the girl, she thought, wiping down the countertop. Her appetite has already increased dramatically, and she is beginning to outgrow those old dresses.

Colette continued to clean the breakfast dishes, her deft hands wiping and sweeping with their usual cheerful efficiency. She'd run this kitchen by herself for years now, and needed no help from the delicate brunette. No, Delia was here on the mistress' orders, to keep her eating in Catherine's absence.

Colette smirked as Delia slowly finished up the hash. She hoped to give Catherine a little surprise when she returned back home.

"Ooh. Finished." Delia groaned as she set down her fork. Colette quickly took away the platter, smiling.

"Ah, tres bien! Thank you Delia. How was it?"

"Good," Delia said delicately, belching softly into her fist. Her hands rubbed the slight curve of her bloated middle, feeling the familiar pressure of a full stomach underneath the small layer of chub. It certainly hadn't been the biggest meal she'd ever eaten, but all of the grease was making her stomach churn.

Colette made a worried face. "Jou seem uncomfortable."

"Well.. maybe it was a bit - urp - a bit much. But it's not too bad, I can still help-"

"Mon cher, I am sorry," Colette gushed apologetically. "Just sit and relax. We don't want jou to become sick."

Delia felt guilty as she watched the pretty french girl hustle about the kitchen, preparing lunch while she sat on her tush and watched. But Colette didn't seem to mind - she chatted happily to her about anything that came to mind, from her favorite ingredients to select gossip about the other servants.

After an hour, Delia's stomach had calmed and she could no longer justify sitting idly. "Colette? I feel much better now. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Colette smiled. "Oh, yes!" She quickly buttered up a thick hunk of fresh-baked bread and handed it to Delia. "Could jou please try zis, tell me 'ow it tastes. I am afraid ze butter may be bad."

"Oh - of course." Delia wasn't going to let her full stomach stop her from helping. After a few minutes of faithful munching, she gave Colette the thumbs up. "Mm - ish good."

"Perfect. Say, while jou are at it, could you try some of these jams? I think I may 'ave used too much sugar."

"Oh. Uh, yes, of course."

Colette grinned. "Excellent."

By the time lunch had been prepared and served, Delia was feeling quite overfull. Colette had kept her busy, tasting and trying a little of this and a little of that, never giving her a break to fully digest what she'd already eaten.

Lunch was delicious, but she was already so full! She pushed her corn and potatoes around with her spoon indecisively, wishing Colette hadn't given her quite so much...

"What is wrong, mon cher? Are zey not to jour liking?" Colette asked anxiously.

"Oh - oh, no! Of course not." Delia said, smiling weakly. She didn't dare hurt Colette's feelings. She quickly spooned a huge bite of mashed potatoes in her mouth, feeling her stomach swell against her dress as she swallowed. "It's very - oof - very good."

After lunch it was more of the same. Every time the pressure in Delia's stomach began to abide, Colette would come unbidden with another morsel for her to taste, filling her right back up again.

It wasn't all bad, of course. Colette was always talking to her, telling jokes, and gossiping naughtily about the other maids. It made Delia feel as though they'd known each other for years, rather than weeks.

Which made it all the harder to refuse desert.

Colette looked at the small girl teasingly, offering a small frosted danish. "Eh, Delia? Oui ou non?"

Delia belched quietly into her hand, rubbing her hard dome of a stomach with the other. She'd already forced down a rather large serving of delicious roast beef and biscuits, and the pressure in her tummy made it feel like she would burst. But, she supposed, after another breathy burp made a bit of room, one more thing couldn't hurt. "Ah - yes, sure."

Colette smiled. She could see why Catherine was so enthralled with her new maid. She watched as Delia managed to pack away the pastry, leaning back and moaning softly as she finished the last bite.

The red dress that had already been so tight on her this morning now looked as though it were struggling for its life. Delia's middle was stuffed spherical, the fabric stretching so tight against the turgid globe that Colette could clearly see the indent of her belly button. The french chef wondered again at how much food she had managed to pack inside of that belly throughout the day. She had been constantly full, never allowed to feel the slightest pang of hunger.

Colette smiled. If she was able to keep this up, Catherine would be coming home to quite the surprise.