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“My mother’s pearls,” corrected Fen.

“Was they?” Trudy did not seem a bit interested in that detail. “And then afterward, you sent your new husband to fetch them back for you…”

“Well…not quite, but never mind. Do continue.”

“Well, the Thane’s manservant, Poulson, was attending his master when Earl Vawdrey reached their rooms. He said they heard Lord Vawdrey hammering on Thane’s door so loud that Lady Thane’s mother was a-feared they would surely all be murdered in their beds! Sir Ambrose, he roared at Poulson to answer before the door caved in, though he cowered behind his own blanket like the veriest cur!”

Fen winced, but Trudy barely seemed to notice. “Poulson said he opened the door and found a cold-eyed devil stood there waiting for him, and he made the sign of protection when he heard how smooth he talked, all the while his eyes was blazing blue murder.”

Fen sat up. She had herself noticed how Oswald’s eyes so often gave away a completely different mood to the one set by his vocal tone. “Then what happened?” she prompted her maid.

“Poulson said he had no choice but to fetch his master out forthwith. Lord Vawdrey told him he will drag him from his bed himself if he did not come. And Poulson said he believed him, milady! And Sir Ambrose came, though he grumbled and moaned and Poulson said he was right ashamed of him! A poor, bandy-legged sight he looked miss, by all accounts. You have something that belongs to my wife, says Lord Vawdrey. And Sir Ambrose, he started to protest, but the Earl, he reached across and knocked his night cap right off his head. ‘Next time, says he, It’ll be your head from your shoulders, you faithless piece of-’” Trudy broke off with a cough. “Your pardon, milady,” she said hastily.

Fen’s eyes were almost out of her head. “Go on,” she gasped.

“Well,” said Trudy, seeing she had given no offense. “Sir Ambrose, he runs off and fetches the jewelry box, and Poulson said as he heard Lady Thane set up a caterwauling in the bedroom. ‘Shut your mouth, woman!’ He yells at her, and brings it out, muttering that it’s all a misunderstanding. Poulson said he surely lied, for his face was as red as a beet.”

Fen grasped the arms of her chair. “And what did Lord Vawdrey-?”

“Poulson said he looked at him so cold, he was surprised his master didn’t contract frost-bite on the spot. He snatched the box and leant in close – like this,” Gertrude’s face hovered close to Fen’s. “‘If you ever show your hand again, where my wife is concerned’,” said he. “‘Then you will regret it. You and yours’,” Trudy nodded in satisfaction. “And Poulson, he said as he believed him about that too!”

Fen collapsed back into the water. She was trembling. “Of course,” she said pulling herself together. “Gossip always exaggerates a tale…”

“Oh no, miss,” Trudy interrupted her. “I had that straight from Poulson himself.”

That was a blow to her theory, but after a moment Fen rallied. “Y-es, but mayhap, in the re-telling it has grown a little more dramatic each time?” She looked at Trudy hopefully but the maid looked unconvinced. She sniffed. “If you say so, milady.” She passed the washcloth and soap to Fen. “Do you want to finish up? You’re all turning to goose-flesh.”

Fen hurriedly washed under her arms and between her legs. Trudy had gone to fetch a much larger white cloth for drying and she held this open now as Fen climbed dripping out of the tub.

“Which dress will you be a-wearing of today, milady?” she asked.

Fen thought of the parcel which had arrived from signor Pezzini the previous day. The green and gold gown she had so admired would do very well for the supper Oswald was taking her to that evening. The other was a cream dress with a black and gold pattern. She forced herself to try and focus on getting dressed, instead of the extraordinary scene that Trudy had just described to her, between her past and present husband. Walking over to a trunk, she flung it open and nearly lost the sheet she was wrapped in.

Trudy hurried over to help her. “This one?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s the one.” Fen wondered if it was too fine to wear to wear to a gathering of ladies, but truth be told, she had nothing else now that Oswald had as good as forbidden her to wear her old dresses. And he had been right in his previous advice. On their walk the day before, Lady Schaeffer had been wearing a gorgeous particolored kirtle of red and blue with a fur-lined mantle. Fen had been glad of the borrowed finery of Lady Sumner’s cloak or she would have suffered by comparison indeed. It was certainly a lot easier getting ready with Trudy assisting her and she was in her shift and gown in next to no time.

“It looks very well, milady,” Trudy told her admiringly. “Though you need a belt…”

“I had a new one delivered yestere’en,” she said. “Tis in the second drawer down. The red leather belt.”

Trudy flew across the room. “This one with the silver badges?” she asked lifting it out.

“That is the one.”

“What manner of creatures be these?” squinted Trudy looking at the heraldic devices that had been added by the smith as she walked back across.

“They are bears for me, and panthers for my husband,” explained Fen, as her maid fastened the belt low to sit on the flare of her hips.

Trudy nodded. “And what will we do with your hair?” she asked.

Fen turned to look over her shoulder at the dizzying array of headwear she had purchased from the Watkynses.

“There’s a black and gold damask coif that would match,” suggested Trudy.

“Perfect,” said Fenella thankfully. “You’ve been really helpful Trudy. Are you sure you have not been a lady’s maid before?”

“Well milady, I did once serve a rich merchant’s wife for six months before she was fetched off with a fever. And uncle’s been coaching me so I don’t disgrace myself.”