“Lady de Wolfe, you have married into a great family,” she said. “When you became his wife, your situation changed. There are things that are expected of you now, like being a chatelaine. I am here to help you learn how to execute your duties flawlessly, but there is much more to being Lady de Wolfe than merely being an efficient chatelaine. It means that you will dress and behave like a lady because, in doing so, you honor your husband greatly.”
Rhoswyn had an idea that Sable was speaking of her appearance and she looked down at herself, slovenly-looking, and began to feel some embarrassment.
“I dunna have anythin’ else tae wear,” she said. “These are me clothes. I have always worn them.”
Sable could see that Rhoswyn was feeling self-conscious and she reached out to gently touch the woman’s arm. “You needn’t worry at all,” she said reassuringly. “I will show you what you need to know and we can purchase fabric to make you fine clothing. Would you like that?”
Rhoswyn didn’t know what to say; dressing and behaving like a lady was perhaps even more frightening than learning to be a chatelaine. But gazing into Troy’s handsome face made her reconsider. He was smiling faintly at her and she was seized with the desire to please the man. It seemed that all she wanted to do was please him. Certainly, he deserved a wife he could be proud of, in every way. When he nodded encouragingly, her hesitation broke down completely.
“Aye,” she said, looking to Sable. “I would.”
Sable smiled brightly as she turned to Troy. “My lord, will you mind helping me?” she asked. When he nodded, she continued eagerly. “My servants are already in the kitchen yard, preparing for the morning meal, but they also started a very large pot of water to boil. I need that hot water and some kind of tub to wash in. Is there one here?”
Troy was thoughtful as he looked at Rhoswyn to see if she knew of something like that. “I have not seen anything that can be used as a tub, but I believe I did see an iron pot that was big enough for a man to climb into,” he said. “It is near the kitchen yard, near the outbuildings.”
“Ah,” Sable said. “Pots of that size are usually for stripping bones. It probably would not be very clean, at least for our purposes. Do you have a barrel we could use? An old wine barrel, mayhap?”
Troy held up a finger. “I think I know,” he said. “There is something like that in the stable, used to hold feed for the animals. Where would you like me to bring it?”
Sable already had Rhoswyn by the arm, pulling her to the only other door on that level, beyond which was the room she and Cassius had slept in that night.
“Here!” Sable said. “Bring it in here with the hot water. And hurry!”
Troy would never forget the expression of apprehension on Rhoswyn’s face as Sable dragged her into her bedchamber. But it was good for her to be a little apprehensive of what was to come, as it would make her more docile to Sable’s intentions. As Sable’s whispered words had been made clear to him – your wife is in need of a good scrubbing – he had been forced to agree. In truth, Rhoswyn’s dirt hadn’t bothered him, for it wasn’t something he particularly noticed, but to have the woman cleaned up… he could only imagine how beautiful she would be. It was all part of learning how to be a proper wife.
With a grin, he quickly went about the assigned tasks as Lady de Shera had asked. There was a sense of purpose in the air this morning and Troy was eager to see the end result.
As Troy went off to do Sable’s bidding, Rhoswyn found herself pulled into the chamber her guests had slept in the night before. After Troy and Sable had found her weeping on the top floor, they had immediately put her to work helping bring Sable’s things up to the borrowed bedchamber, and that included things Rhoswyn had never seen before – beautiful trunks, fine mattress shells all rolled up and waiting to be stuffed with fresh straw or feathers, smaller capcases that contained mysterious potions. They even smelled good, lined with lavender and herbs.
Moving Sable and Cassius into the chamber also involved stuffing one of the mattresses that Sable had brought with some of the straw that had been stored in the barn. It wasn’t very fresh, but it was dry, and Rhoswyn helped Sable stuff the mattress while the men moved in the last of the trunks from the provisions wagon. Soon enough, it was like a chamber of wonders, filled with more possessions than Rhoswyn had ever seen.
This morning, the chamber was still stuffed full of things that someone had carefully organized. But Rhoswyn didn’t have time to inspect anything because Sable put her in the corner and told her to remain, and she did. She stood there while Sable began to open trunks and pull forth items – clothing, combs, and other things that Rhoswyn couldn’t really identify. She had no idea what was going on but she knew that it all had something to do with her and the clothing she was wearing.
Truly, it was pathetic, her clothing. Compared to what Sable was wearing, a proper lady’s garments, she looked terrible. But they were all garments from her father – or what she’d happened to come by in her years of living at Sibbald’s. In fact, the leather tunic she wore had belonged to her grandfather. There was absolutely nothing she owned that had been made for her except the leather breeches. The tanner at Sibbald’s had made those for her a few years ago when her legs grew long and the breeches she had no longer fit. Of course, she knew what fine ladies wore, never more obvious now with Sable around. They wore lovely surcoats and shifts. But Rhoswyn didn’t have any of that.
A situation that was soon to change.
Troy arrived carrying a very big copper pot or bucket up from the stables; it was difficult to tell what it was because it was badly dented and the interior of it was black with oxidation, but he’d had his stable hands rinse it out and try to at least clean it up before he brought it up to the ladies. Sable inspected it closely and it seemed as if the oxidation didn’t rub off, or come off, so she deemed it safe for her purposes. Sending Troy and his men for the hot water, she lined the pot with two large pieces of a sheer linen fabric and set out a variety of phials and combs as she was waiting for the water.
Still, Rhoswyn said nothing because she had no idea what was coming. When Troy and his men returned, it was with buckets and smaller pots of hot water, and Sable directed them to pour it into the lined copper tub. Steaming water splashed in and Sable put drops of oil into the water that filled the chamber with the smell of lavender. On the floor beside the pot, she seemed very busy preparing potions and other things, and that went on until the pot was about half-full, and Troy and his men left the chamber and shut the door. Then, Sable turned to her.
Or turned on her. The demands began to come forth.
“Off with your clothing, my lady,” she said. “Into the tub with you.”
Rhoswyn’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Get… get intae it?”
Sable nodded briskly and went to her, reaching out for her. “Allow me to assist you.”
She didn’t really give Rhoswyn a choice. She began untying the leather ties that held together the leather apron and, from that point on, Rhoswyn could only stand there like a dullard as Sable virtually stripped her. When they came down to only her breeches and a thin tunic left, Rhoswyn balked, feeling very self-conscious, but Sable gently coaxed the remaining clothing from her by holding up a large piece of drying material, made from a combination of wool and even rare cotton, woven together so it would wick the water off the skin.
But Rhoswyn wasn’t concerned with drying her skin. She was concerned with shielding her nakedness, which Sable thoughtfully did with the drying linen. But she was concerned about the pot of steaming water that was meant for her. She might as well have been looking at the deepest loch in all of Scotland for all of the fear she was feeling.
“But…” she stammered as Sable tried to direct her into the pot. “But what will ye have me do?”
Sable pointed to the pot. “Sit in it, please.”
Rhoswyn was beside herself. “Sit in it?”
Sable nodded patiently. “Sit in it and I shall bathe
you.”
Rhoswyn hesitated. “I dunna like water,” she insisted. “I canna swim. I dunna want tae sit in it!”
Sable remained patient. “It will not hurt you, I promise,” she said. “And you will not drown. You’ve not drown in a bath in all these years and that will not change today.”
Rhoswyn stared at the steaming pot. “I havena… that is, I dunna take a bath. I have a cloth and bucket I use sometimes, but I never… swim in it.”
Sable was rather shocked to learn that Rhoswyn had never before taken a bath but, given the dirt on the woman, she wasn’t particularly surprised. She thought it was time for a little brutal honesty with a woman who probably had no real idea of the situation she was in and what was expected of her.
Sometimes a little forthrightness was needed.
“You are not expected to swim in it,” she said. “You will sit in it and I will wash the dirt from you. My lady, please do not think I am trying to be cruel, but it is time for total truth. Do you believe we should be truthful with each other?”
Rhoswyn eyed her warily. “Aye.”
“Do you believe that friends are concerned for one another? Because I very much wish to be your friend.”
Rhoswyn shrugged. “I dunna have any friends.”
Sable smiled. “Then I am honored to be your first,” she said. “Please know that, as your friend, everything I do is for your own good. I would never do anything to harm you or to shame you. You must believe that. Now, from one friend to another, the way you are at this moment is a disgrace to your husband. You smell like a barnyard and you look like you have not combed your hair in years. That does not honor your husband, my lady. It makes men feel a great deal of pity for him.”
Rhoswyn was torn between defiance and the realization that Sable was correct; she was rather dirty. And smelly. She looked down at herself, seeing the stains on her tunic, knowing her hair was a mess, and she began to feel very awkward and embarrassed.
“No one has ever said such things,” she defended herself weakly. “Me pa… he looks the same as I do.”
“And you want to look like a smelly man for the rest of your life?” Sable countered. Then, she shook her head firmly. “Nay, you shall not. Now, remove the remainder of your clothing and get into that tub or I shall have to do it for you. I may appear small and weak, but I can give you a fight if that is what you are looking for. I will clean this dirt off of you or die trying.”
It seemed like a rather passionate declaration simply for a bath, but Rhoswyn believed her. These English women had different ways when it came to dress and cleanliness, or so she’d heard, and she had no doubt that Lady Sable saw Rhoswyn as a great challenge. The woman probably wouldn’t hesitate to club her and drag her into the water. Because she didn’t want to be clubbed, and she didn’t want to fight against a woman who had only been helpful since the moment they met, Rhoswyn begrudgingly removed her leather breeches, her tunic, and then jumped into the water, splashing it over the sides.
Fighting off a grin, Sable went to work. The first thing she did was take the two bone combs she’d set out and began to comb through Rhoswyn’s considerable mane, which was matted and dirty. It was a shame, too, because it was such a lovely color, and the texture was thick. As Sable combed, Rhoswyn grunted in pain until Sable stopped and handed the woman a lumpy bar of white soap with flecks of lavender buds in it.
“Here,” she said. “Begin washing yourself while I work on your hair.”
She resumed combing and Rhoswyn resumed grunting but, in between groans of pain, Rhoswyn lifted the soap to her nostrils and inhaled the lovely lavender fragrance. She rubbed the bar between her hands in the water and it turned into cream against her flesh. It also washed away the dirt; she could see it. After that, she began to rub the bar with vigor against her skin, washing off the years of accumulated dirt. But every so often, a tug on her head would bring a yelp from her lips.
“Och!” she said as Sable combed out a particularly bad knot. “Ye’ll pull the hair right from me head!”
Sable didn’t ease up. She continued to use the big comb to detangle and the finer comb to smooth through the hair.
“I am sorry,” she said, although she wasn’t. “Your hair is very matted.”
Rhoswyn was rubbing the bar up and down her arm. “It gets that way.”
“You should comb it every day so it does not get that way.”
“I dunna have a comb.”
Sable tugged on a big mat, causing Rhoswyn to flinch. “That will change.”
Rhoswyn’s head jerked back as Sable broke through the tangle. “I have a feelin’ much will change now.”
There wasn’t any self-pity in her words, simply a statement of fact, but it made Sable think. Rhoswyn seemed to come from a very different world than she knew. She was curious about it, and about her.
“Tell me of your life at Sibbald’s,” she said, genuinely interested. “Do you have brothers? Sisters?”
Rhoswyn shook her head as she scrubbed the grime on her left wrist. “Nay,” she said. “Just me pa. Me ma died when I was young, and I never had any brothers or sisters.”
Sable finished with the last of the big mats. “I have two sisters,” she said. “Douglass and Lizbeth.”
“Are they married, too?”
“Douglass is,” she said. “She married a great knight. My husband’s uncle, in fact. But Lizbeth is younger than I am and not yet pledged.”
“Pledged,” Rhoswyn muttered. “That was somethin’ me pa never spoke much of.”
“Why not?”
Rhoswyn rinsed her arm off in the water. “Who would marry me?” she asked flatly. “I can fight better than most men. No one wants a wife who can best him.”
Finished pulling out the tangles, Sable began to comb the hair out with the fine-toothed comb. “Have you always known how to fight?” she asked. “I must say, I have never heard of a woman being trained for such things, but it would be a useful skill to have, I suppose.”
Rhoswyn assumed she was only being kind about it. More and more, she was coming to realize that her father had not raised her as he should have. “Useful tae a man,” she clarified. “But it seems that the English are less impressed with my skills. I canna use a sword tae cook a meal or stuff a mattress.”
Sable set the comb down and reached for a big wooden vessel on the ground. “That is true, but if we were to be attacked right now, you would know what to do, wouldn’t you?”
Rhoswyn started to reply but Sable took the big wooden vessel, filled it with water, and poured it over Rhoswyn’s head. Rhoswyn shrieked when water poured into her mouth, sputtering as Sable poured several loads of water over her head to thoroughly wet her hair. After that, the conversation died as Sable began to scrub Rhoswyn within an inch of her life.
She took the soap Rhoswyn had been using on her body and rubbed it all over her hair, digging her fingers into the scalp and scrubbing. Rhoswyn ended up having to hold on to the edges of the tub because she was being buffeted around so, enduring the scrubbing and scraping and then more rinsing, followed by another rinse through her hair with something that smelled like vinegar.
It was an experience Rhoswyn would never forget, but it was also an experienced she ended up rather enjoying. It was lovely soaking in hot water and having someone scratch her scalp. She had no idea what she’d been missing and when it came time to get out, she did so reluctantly. The water was cooling, but the room was cooler, and she quickly wrapped up in Sable’s amazing drying cloth, sitting on a small stool in front of the fire as Sable went to work combing out her wet hair.
“And how was your bath, my lady?” Sable asked, grinning at Rhoswyn’s relaxed posture. “Did you enjoy it?”
Rhoswyn sighed, warm and clean and feeling wonderful. “I would do it again, very soon,” she said. “I must ask me husband if he will allow me tae purchase soap.”
Sable combed out the long, wet tresses. “Do you not have any?”
Rhoswyn yawned. “I�
�m sure ye guessed that I dunna,” she said, turning somewhat to look at Sable. “I have nothin’, m’lady, except the clothin’ ye saw me wearin’. I dunna own a comb and I dunna have any of the wonderful things that ye have. It’s not that me pa denied me; I suppose I dinna know tae ask for them.”
Sable had suspected as much. “Well,” she said briskly, “I shall speak with Troy. There must be a nearby village where you can purchase some things that you will need, as the lady of the house. And I will help you sew dresses, if you will allow.”
Rhoswyn shrugged. “I dunna know how tae sew,” she said. Then, she sobered somewhat. Showing gratitude was difficult for her. “Ye… ye’ve been very kind tae me, Lady Sable. I never knew any English until a few days ago, and the English I’ve met have been very kind.”
Sable grinned. “Did you expect otherwise?”
Rhoswyn couldn’t see the woman, as she was facing away from her, but she could hear the humor in her voice. Having never had a friend, it was easy for her to let her guard down with Sable’s kindness. It was rather nice having another lady to talk to.
“All I’ve ever seen of the English are their men,” she said. “I’ve never been this close to an English woman before, so I dunna know what tae expect.”
Sable continued combing and Rhoswyn’s hair was starting to dry by the warmth of the fire, the lovely gold and red shades becoming evident.
“I have known plenty of Scots women,” she said. “Troy’s mother is Scots, in fact. She is very kind. I have, therefore, had experience with many kind Scots women.”
Rhoswyn could sense there was a sisterhood there, a mysterious thing that she was part of now and didn’t even know it. The de Wolfe women. That sisterhood of women married to the most powerful knights on the border, now including her. Desperate to understand, to become what would honor her husband, forced her to turn around and look at Sable.
“Will ye teach me all ye know?” she begged softly. “I feel so… foolish. I never expected tae marry and I certainly never expected tae marry a Sassenach knight, so there is so much I dunna know. Tell me tae do it and I shall. I shall do whatever ye tell me I should because I dunna want tae shame me husband. He’s been so… so kind and patient, too.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 231
