Chapter Eight #3
Davyss seemed to snap out of his trance, almost embarrassed, and began snapping orders. “Get the army quartered and secure the gate,” he barked. “I want my knights in the hall in an hour.”
Hugh began echoing his brother’s orders, repeating them to all who might not have heard rather than actually doing anything.
He was an excellent fighter but he was under the impression that menial tasks were beneath him so he tended to give orders rather than take them.
But that was normal and Davyss simply ignored his brother’s bossy manner; his own manner was rushed and brusque.
He wanted to be done with the chores so he could return to the lovely young woman who had so recently been ushered into the keep.
He almost couldn’t think of anything else.
*
Inside the bulky keep of Wintercroft, Devereux was receiving the whirlwind tour.
Lucy and Frances had whisked her into the very small foyer and up the massive stone stairs that were immediately to the right.
They went up to the second floor and into a series of rooms that were linked; there were no hallways.
One room opened up into another and into another, like a line of rooms. They were massive and fairly well appointed.
They passed through two enormous rooms and into a third, which was larger than the rest. There was an enormous bed in it, two massive wardrobes and a scattering of tables, chairs and other possessions.
A colossal tapestry hung on the wall near two windows, partially rolled up; Devereux could see that when the tapestry was unrolled, it covered both windows.
The women paused when they reached the room.
Devereux stood in the center of it, slightly awed by her surroundings, as Lucy and Frances bustled about with a couple of old servants.
Devereux didn’t even know what they were doing; she was paying more attention to the room around her.
The rooms on the second floor were surprisingly light and airy with scrubbed, wide-planked wooden floors and great stone walls.
There were great pieces of furniture in the rooms, from giant wardrobes to luxurious and expensive tables, candlesticks, sideboards and chairs.
The wealth of the de Winters was fully evident and on display in this place, as it was meant to be.
Devereux gradually became aware that the ladies were attempting to direct her into a small door in the corner of the room. She obediently followed and ended up in a small chamber that had an enormous copper tub in it. Someone had lined it with linen and clear, clean water steamed into the air.
Off to her right, there was a smaller wardrobe, a vanity, and tucked into the corner was a stone seat built into the wall with a hole in it.
There was a wood and fabric screen around it, partially blocking her view, and it took her a moment to realize it was a privy.
Devereux was shocked; a privy in the house?
The ladies were attempting to help her remove her clothing.
Devereux snapped out of her awestruck observations and allowed them to untie the surcoat she wore, one of the new ones that Davyss had given her.
It was a yellow linen garment with lovely long sleeves and a matching shift underneath.
The women stripped her to the shift and suddenly, Devereux was very self-conscious.
She always bathed and dressed in private, so this was something of a new and uncomfortable experience.
True, there were servants at her father’s house who did the cooking and cleaning and that sort of thing, but she’d never had a handmaiden.
She had always fended for herself. When pretty young Lucy tried to help her from the shift, she balked.
“Ladies,” Devereux clutched the shift around her neck as if to hold it tight so they could not lift it over her head. “If you do not mind, I would like to bathe in private.”
Lucy looked confused, looking to Frances, who simply shrugged her shoulders. Lucy returned her puzzled gaze to Devereux. “But… my lady, we are here to assist you. We wish to help you bathe. Do you not need help?”
She asked it with such bafflement that Devereux almost smiled. “My lady, I mean no offense, truly,” she said carefully; she did not want to get off to a bad start with these women. “’Tis simply that… well, it is my preference. I believe bathing is a private activity.”
Lucy blinked, still puzzled, but nodded unsteadily. This time, it was Frances who spoke.
“It is because you do not know us, Lady de Winter,” she said confidently. “I understand. But please believe me when I say that we only wish to assist you.”
Devereux turned to the handsome brunette; there was still something odd about the woman, an appraising look to the eye. It put Devereux on her guard.
“That is not necessary, Lady de Nogaret,” she informed her. “If you and Lady Lucy will leave me now, I will bathe in private. Please see that my baggage is brought up.”
“But…,” Lucy protested weakly.
“That will be all, Lady Lucy. Thank you very much for your consideration.”
Lucy nodded, looking somewhat like a kicked dog, and began to leave the room.
Realizing that Frances wasn’t moving, she took the woman by the arm and practically yanked her from the room.
Devereux stood there, waiting until she was sure they had gone, before moving to the wood and fabric screen that partially covered the privy and moving it to the open chamber door.
Even if anyone entered the enormous chamber beyond, the screen provided some privacy.
With a heavy sigh, she looked around the small chamber as if gathering her thoughts.
She noticed that the ladies had set out a sponge, a bar of white soap, a glass phial with some kind of oil in it, and a scraper.
They all sat upon a small table next to the tub.
There was also a robe of some fashion, white and fine, strewn across a chair by the vanity.
Throwing off her shoes, she pulled off her hose, pantalets and shift before plunging into the tub.
It was clean, hot and glorious. Devereux sighed with contentment as she went to work with the white bar of soap that smelled strongly of hyacinth.
She washed her hair with it, twice, before moving to soap up her body.
The tub was so big that she could move easily in it, submerging her head as she scrubbed every inch of flesh.
Soon, the chamber was filled with the scent of flowers and it was into this lovely sanctuary that Davyss entered.
He had brought up her trunks, depositing them against the wall in the master’s chamber.
Lady Lucy had told him, somewhat sadly, that his wife had not required any help with her bath, so he had come up personally to see if she was in any manner of distress.
She seemed to be such a sensitive woman that he found that he worried for her moods and mental state constantly during this time of change.
He didn’t want to see her upset, not even for a minute.
After setting the trunks down, Davyss removed his gloves, his plate armor, his hauberk and mail coat, and laid them carefully on the frame in the corner so any moisture would dry out.
His squire would collect them later to clean them.
In his breeches, sweaty tunic and massive knee-high boots, he went to the screen blocking the door and knocked on it.
“Lady de Winter?” he called softly. “May I enter?”
He could hear splashing before she answered. “Of course, my lord,” she replied, sounding rather breathless. “Please come in.”
He slid around the screen without moving it, his hazel eyes riveted to the figure in the enormous tub.
As he approached, he could see that she was covering her chest with a piece of linen she had yanked off the side of the tub.
He suppressed the urge to laugh at her but he couldn’t keep the grin from his face.
He stood over the tub with his fists on his hips as if inspecting the entire activity.
“Well?” he said with mock sternness. “I hear you wish to bathe alone. Does that mean I cannot participate, either?”
She gazed up at him with the linen pulled up around her neck, unsure how to answer. “I … well, I suppose so. You are my husband, after all.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I know who I am,” he removed his fists from his hips and crouched next to the bath. “But you chased off Lucy and Frances. They are most distressed. They think you do not like them.”
She looked genuinely concerned. “I did not mean to distress them,” she struggled for the correct words.
“I am simply unused to bathing with help, much less with the help of women I do not even know. I am more comfortable alone, ’tis all.
Please tell them not to be distressed. It was not my intention to upset them. ”
He smiled faintly. “I am sure they know that but I will remind them,” his smile faded as his gaze trailed to the linen covering her chest, the soapy water. “I told you that they would be your ladies-in-waiting. You will have to get to know them sooner or later.”
“I will. But right now, I would simply like to bathe without the assistance of strangers.”
His eyes lingered on the peaked nipples showing through the linen. “May I help you bathe? You know me, after all.”
The sheer tone in his voice made her blush to the roots of her hair; she may have been fairly na?ve but she had heard that tone before, before he made love to her. “I am finished bathing, my lord,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
He leaned forward and took her in his arms, pulling her wet body up against his damp and dirty tunic. She shrieked.
“You are sweaty and filthy,” she pushed against him. “Now I will have to bathe again.”
He laughed softly, released her, and yanked off his tunic. The gleam in his eye was strong. “Exactly.”