“Nah ah,” Peter cautioned, holding up a finger and wagging it like a governess correcting her charges. “Your property is now secondary. What is more important is helping someone see that there’s a good reason people like you and I exist. We have the means to be generous and charitable, as well as the means to become educated enough to lead our people and look after their welfare. When this woman decides for herself—and that is key—that you are deserving of her help, only then should she make an effort to retrieve your property.”
“Why do I suddenly feel as though the schoolmaster has shamed me before the other pupils for not knowing my sums?” Callum joked, causing Peter to smile.
“If I do no other good in this world than this, my purpose on Earth will have been fulfilled!” he teased in return.
Chapter 12
Beatrix awakened the next morning with another stiff pain wrapping itself around her neck. Hers had never been a life of extreme luxury, but she had always enjoyed the small comforts of home. Here, with three nights now spent upon an unforgiving stone floor, she wondered if she’d ever again relish in the comfort of a familiar blanket and a soft bed.
Her eyes had barely opened to the morning sun when the door to her room slowly opened. Beatrix smiled when she saw Birdie peek in, followed by another girl of about her same age and position.
“Good morning, Birdie,” Beatrix said, and the maid held back a giggle behind her hand.
“See?” she whispered to the other maid, “I told ya she was nice.”
“But a thief? Can she be so kind as you say?” the taller girl asked, still looking at Beatrix with an air of suspicion.
“I told ya, Greta! She’s most kind,” Birdie said, opening the door wider and addressing Beatrix. “The master says we’re to take ya upstairs for a proper bath.”
“What? Why would he do such a thing?” Beatrix asked, confused.
“I know not, miss,” Birdie answered wide-eyed, shrugging her thin shoulders. “But ‘tis me orders. We’ve drawn a hot bath for ya, and I’ve told ‘em to send your breakfast upstairs, too.”
Beatrix couldn’t help but notice the newfound confidence with which Birdie spoke. Gone was her earlier stammer of fear. It warmed her heart to know the girl had placed some measure of trust in her now.
“If you’ve ordered it to be so,” Beatrix said, smiling and rising to curtsy at Birdie, “then let’s be on with it!”
“Gah, don’t be playin’ none of that fancy stuff now!” Birdie said, but she was smiling as broadly as Beatrix. “I’m only come to fetch ya and give ya a good washin’!”
The maids led Beatrix up the servants’ stairs from the kitchen and into a higher level where foods were often kept warm while awaiting serving during a dinner. The room was empty at this hour as the household had already been served in their quarters, most likely.
Beatrix fought to keep up the pretense that all of this gaudiness was beneath someone of her sensibilities, but in truth, she wanted to stand open-mouthed and gape like a country dweller come to court. Gold filigree covered most surfaces, and portraits in gilt frames lined every inch of the walls. Ornate tapestries hung in the alcoves behind marble statues of every kind. One entire level of the house seemed to be reserved for nothing but an enormous ballroom which surely would have rivaled the one Beatrix had read about at Versailles.
Overhead, great windows of leaded glass rose nearly to the ceiling, inviting in the sunlight from every side. Rich velvet draperies had already been opened to greet the day, but could be closed to ward off the chill and the dreariness of a winter’s day.
Beatrix followed the two maids along the marble-lined hallway until they reached yet another staircase. Could this palatial home go on forever? Beatrix leaned on the mahogany balustrade to steady herself as they climbed even higher, the smooth, gleaming wood feeling soft like lamb’s wool beneath her hand.
“Here ya are, miss,” Birdie announced outside of a closed door.
For a moment, Beatrix thought of the possibility that this was a trap, some ruse put on by the master of the house. What was his name again? Had she even heard it spoken? She paused, willing herself to go forward.
Greta opened the door and entered first, reaching for a long apron as she did and passing another one to Birdie. The girls donned their overgarments and waited for Beatrix, who stared in wonder at the oversized brass tub in the center of the room. Birdie was the first to explain.
“There’s a bathing gown on the stand behind the screen, miss,” she said, pointing towards the corner of the large room. “We’ll wait on ya here, so don’t be in no hurry.”
Beatrix did as she was told, leaving her rather filthy garments behind the dressing screen and donning the long white sleeveless garment that she would wear to wash. Greta managed a thin, hesitant smile as she loosened the leather tie that had been wound around Beatrix’s hair, letting it fall past her shoulders and down her back.
Birdie held out her hand for Beatrix to take as she stepped up on a low stool and over into the water. Not quite scalding, it took a moment’s wait to become accustomed to the heat of it, but soon, she relaxed as the scent of fresh garden herbs soothed her senses. While Greta tackled the knots in her hair with a boar’s hair brush, Birdie scrubbed delicately at the dirt that seemed to perpetually reside beneath her nails.
“Look this way, miss,” Birdie later instructed, “we’ll keep the soap from your eyes!”
Before she knew it, Beatrix was freshly scrubbed from head to foot. Her hair, scrubbed and rinsed clean with a fresh basin of hot water, was piled atop her head in a fresh coif, secured in place with more pins than she could count. She felt a twinge of selfish hope in wanting to stay beneath the fragrant water a bit longer, but she couldn’t hold Birdie and Greta from their duties any longer.
“Thank you, both of you, for fetching me here and letting me wash. I’ll just get dressed and we can return downstairs before anyone misses you,” she said, but stopped short when the girls stifled their surprised laughter. “What is it?”
“No, miss,” Greta finally said, and Beatrix was taken aback at the soft tremor of her voice. “These are to be your rooms now.”
Beatrix looked around for a moment at the spacious quarters, wrapping the robe around her tighter. A small writing desk sat by the window, adjacent to a space where a small table and chairs for taking one’s meals waited. Beyond the open door, she could see an elegant four-poster bed already made with a thick down coverlet and mounds of pillows. Turning to look behind her, Beatrix was astounded by the shelves of books that covered one wall, a ladder already in place on its track to reach those that were high above.
