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“What’s wrong with my presence?” I ask, my fingers tapping against my crossed arms.
Larisa moves through the doorway to stand across from me, grabbing my hand and pulling me around as she assesses me front to back. “Perhaps a nice bath, and good wash of your hair and scrub of your nails.” She pulls the tie from my braid in a swift movement, the ends unfolding from their confinement.
“I can bathe myself, thank you,” I say, a single eyebrow raised. Unused to such personal attention leaves me flustered as she continues her way into the room, dropping a heap of fabric on the over-sized bed. “What is that?” I ask, dread forming in the pit of my stomach.
“Your dress for this evening,” says the woman, honest excitement lighting her face. My stomach twists and I hold back a gag as I stare at the layers of pastel fabric.
I lift the thing from the bed, taking in the low-neckline, lack of sleeves, and lace trim. “I would cut off my own foot before I would ever pull this hideous costume over my head.” I turn to face Captain Montgomery, continuing my outrage. “I’m not wearing this.” I move across the room, pointing a finger into his chest. The corners of his lips twitch upward, but his eyes stay wide as he takes in the monstrosity crumpled in my arm. “You go find whoever picked this out and tell them they can choke on my fist.”
My ill-mannered remark earns an open-mouthed expression and audible gasp from the old woman now standing behind me, combing out my braid with her fingers. Larisa gives a congenial whack against my shoulder, leaving me perplexed. Are there years of time I spent with this woman, time that I’ve somehow misplaced that would secure this kind of familiarity?
“That’s no way for a lady to speak,” she admonishes, my head pulling back as she catches on a few knots. I can’t remember the last time someone else brushed my hair, even rudimentarily in this manner.
“I, madam, am no lady.” My remark is lost, her one-track mind given a task that she’s determined to see through to the end.
“Now, there wasn’t time to bring a tub up to your room, so we will need to walk down to Lady Tess’s bath chamber.” She walks to the ornate dresser against the opposite wall and opens one of its giant drawers, pulling out a plain, dress-like garment to accompany us down the hall.
I want to dig in my heels, refusing to adhere to the obnoxious wishes of some wealthy standard. But the thought of washing away days of grime from my skin is tempting enough for me to cooperate with this woman. For now at least, I can get on board with a warm bath. But someone comes within arms-length with a dress and regret will reign their life from that moment on.
We walk past the captain still standing at my door, heading for the tub of tension-relieving hot water. “I’ll come back and check on you in a little bit,” he tells me, reaching out a hand as if to touch me. But he must think better of it as that hand soon rests back against his side.
“Oh stop the fuss and go change. From the smell of it, you could use a bath yourself.” Larisa remarks. “The girl is in good hands with me. Now be on your way, Lord Montgomery.”
The use of such a title catches me off guard, sending a questioning look toward the man. Lord? Since when did he become a lord?
“It’s captain, madam. Not lord.” She looks confused at his correction, but moves past him as if she can’t be bothered to figure it out or hear an explanation. “If you need me, my room is just down the hall, with Aiden and Otto.” I nod to him, glad to know where our other two companions are holding up, before turning my attention back to the promise of a bath.
The abruptness of Larisa brings a coy grin to my face as I follow her, watching Captain Montgomery out of the corner of my eye as he pulls out his shirt and sniffs, a look of sour agreement sending him back down the hallway to his own bath.
I’m exfoliated from head to toe, any prude notions pushed far into the corner of the room as Larisa and another younger woman, Katya, scrub every inch of me. My skin is covered in about eight different fragrant oils, and my hair is washed in a concoction of blended soaps before being rinsed with water steeped with primrose, peonies, and hyacinth blooms. Or so they tell me. A towel the size of a blanket is handed to me to dry off before I’m wrapped in the slim garment Larisa brought from my room, hitting me at the knees and tying off in the front.
“So there’s a woman underneath the dirt after all,” a familiar voice chimes.
Tess walks into the bathroom dawning a form-fitting dress that hugs her hips and accentuates each curve— ever the picture of affluent delicacy. Curls bounce around her face, some pinned back while others spring freely— a stark contrast to her rather severe presence this afternoon. I want to scowl, but her beauty and harmless appearance leads me to a raised eyebrow instead.
“I heard there was a bit of a disagreement toward the ensemble chosen for you.” She sits down next to me, staying clear of the two women working through my hair.
“I will wear the clothes I brought, or I will walk out of those doors right now. And anyone who gets in my way will come away wishing they hadn’t.”
“What a treat for the men outside, to see your pretty legs waltz out in your bathrobe.” Her face dances as she looks me over.
Of course I wouldn’t leave in this thin shift that leaves little to the imagination. I roll my eyes, not bothering to hide it. This woman, Tess— she wants me to be uncomfortable. Maybe she even delights in it. My eyes narrow toward her while my mouth remains in a tight line.
“Oh, come on. I won’t make you walk around in that frilly eyesore Larisa laid out for you. You can borrow some of my clothes while yours are getting cleaned downstairs,” she says. My head whips around to face her.
It wasn't hard to miss during our interaction earlier that she and the captain had once had some kind of relationship— the extent of which I'm unsure. There was still a reverence in his eyes when he spoke to her, even though it seemed that she had liked him more than he had liked her. But I don't understand it. She's one of the most dazzling women I've ever seen.
Tess walks back through the adjoining door, showing off the deep plunge in the back of her dress which exposes almost the entirety of her back. Her muscles aren't well-defined through her soft skin, but that's not surprising. Most wealthy women prefer a sedentary lifestyle; Marg is the only one I know who has gone against that pattern.
Tess seems a perfect candidate for a wife: stunning, soft, and rich. If she preferred the captain, it would seem he had a silver platter handed to him, and he denied it, denied her.
She enters the bathroom again a few moments later with a stack of neatly folded clothes between both hands. “I’m a little taller than you, so the pants might need to be cuffed at the bottom. But I think the rest should do nicely. After you’ve dressed, you can meet us downstairs in the great hall. Larisa, if you wouldn’t mind showing her the way.”
“Of course, my lady.” Larisa dips her head.
“If you need a place to wash up while you’re here, you’re welcome to use this bathroom.” Tess’s facade drops for just a moment, another kindness showing through that I didn’t expect. She must feel it too, because she adds, “But, make sure to knock— wouldn’t want to walk into anything too scandalous, now would we.” Tess’s dark dress swishes with each step as she again retreats back through the door to her bedroom, a gentleclickofficiallyclosing our brief conversation.
Larisa shows me downstairs, walking the length of the house before the looming doors of the Great Hall come into view. Tess’s clothes fit me almost perfectly. The dark, gray pants needed a slight adjustment at the ends like she said, but the deep green top feels like it was made just for me. Is this what it feels like to have money? To have clothes that fit and feel like butter against your skin?
