Blackberry and Wild Rose by Sonia Velton

Author:Sonia Velton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2019-03-12T19:12:47+00:00

23

Sara

Madam thought herself a good deal cleverer than she was. I didn’t bother with her pots of trinkets and jewelery: she would not hide anything there. Instead, I studied her person and the way she moved. While we dressed the mantelpiece—with great bushes that would surely start dropping their leaves all over the hearth the minute a fire was lit, and glass beads just asking to be broken with the first swipe of Moll’s dusting brush—she fiddled with the locket around her neck. It was made of enameled gold and given to her, she told me, by the master on their wedding day. I thought it too large for her delicate neck and didn’t care for it, but it could certainly hold a small key and that was surely where it was. She ran the locket idly back and forth along the chain as she surveyed our morning’s work.

“It looks well, does it not?” she asked me. I nodded and forced a smile. I knew it would not be long before I unclasped that locket from her pretty throat.

* * *

Mrs. Thorel bathed more than anyone else I knew. I dare say she even enjoyed it. Near every week I had Moll light a fire under the coppers to heat the water. The morning after we decorated the house she was sitting in her dressing room, still wearing her nightgown, while a lively fire burned in the grate. I had asked Moll to make sure the water was boiling because of the bitter weather and it still steamed in the bowl on the floor at her feet. While it cooled I laid out a clean shift for her to wear and a petticoat to go over it. Then I put a pannier on the chair and asked her what she might like to wear. She chose the flowered tabby in cream silk. I remember because it was my favorite of all her gowns. While she pulled her fingers through her hair to loosen the plaits, I picked out lace sleeves for the gown and ribbons for her hair.

I always started at the top and worked down. I dipped the washcloth in the water and squeezed out the excess. I opened the cloth fully and draped it over her face, pressing the warm material down around her eyes and nose. Then I gently wiped her face and up around her hair, which darkened with the damp like the tarnishing of a copper pot. As I worked downward, I dropped the cloth back into the basin and slipped my hands around her neck. The clasp was fiddly and, for a moment, I thought she would lose patience and tell me to leave it be. But then it came open and I put the locket to one side. She leaned her head back and I gently parted the neck of her nightgown. She reminded me of an animal at the butcher, head bent back for the slaughter. I swept the cloth right down from behind her ear to the very top of her breasts then under her arms.

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