Chapter Eight - Gnash #2
Pulled from her darkening thoughts, she crossed to the wardrobe that Gnash had indicated and tentatively opened the doors, expecting to find the inside bare.
On the contrary, she passed her hand over a long row of dresses and outfits.
Some of them she recognised as ones her aunts had packed for her.
However, a larger amount were in the colours of her betrothed; dark emerald, black and silver.
Her family colours stabbed at her heart, and the house colours of her betrothed had bile rising her throat.
Instead, she reached for a long dark brown skirt from home, pairing it with its matching brown silk bodice lined in gold.
Elira cautiously stepped into the room as Rosamund pulled the old worn dress out of the cupboard. She bobbed a curtsy, keeping her eyes on the ground, and held her hands out for the dress, “The b-b-bath is alm-m-most…ready, M-my Lady.”
Rosamund handed her the dress, “thank you, and” she bit her lip nervously, “sorry.”
Elira’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, panicked, scared, “N-n-no My lady, it w-w-was-.”
“I have been a terrible guest,” said Rosamund firmly but gently, “and I am sorry.”
The maidservant did not know what to do, she stood frozen on the spot, her mouth opening and closing. There was the sound of a splash in the distance which snapped her out of the racing thoughts she was having, “The b-b-b-bath!”
Clutching at the dress she fled, accompanied by Gnash’s snickering, “Time for dunking stinky Lady!”
Rosamund sighed, “Time for dunking.”
Gnash had been horrified at how long she had stayed in the water of the large copper bath.
He had kept dancing around, hands over his eyes, proclaiming that if she stayed in any longer, she would turn into a prune.
She had responded by sinking further into the warm scented water.
Petals glided along the surface, and she traced her hand back and forward, sweeping them between her fingers.
Everything within her began to relax until Elira grabbed the rough scrubbing brush and started making an assault on her skin.
She kept apologising which Rosamund kept trying to tell her was not necessary to no avail.
She watched as the beautiful petalled water quickly began to darken and Rosamund wrinkled her nose. She really had needed a bath.
Once they were done Elira had handed her the softest towel.
The fluffy material felt warm and smooth on her skin, soaking up the water easily as she dried herself off.
Elira had attempted to follow her behind the screen to help her dress, but Rosamund had politely shooed her away.
She had been successfully dressing herself for years she explained, she did not need help now.
When she had reappeared from behind the screen Elira had smiled, “It looks b-b-beautiful my lady, the c-c-colour suits you.”
“Gnash thinks it boring,” said the goblin with an unimpressed look.
Before Rosamund could retort he snapped his tiny hands together and said, “Breakfast time! Lady, follow Gnash.”
“Your hair my lady,” said Elira, stepping forward to reach for the dark brown wet strands.
“I’ve got it,” said Rosamund quickly, reaching up to begin plaiting her long hair to one side.
Elira bobbed another curtsy before heading back up the stairs to the room.
Rosamund suspected that now she had finally left it, Elira intended on cleaning the sheets.
Or burning them. Gnash skipped down the stairs, gesturing for Rosamund to follow him.
She rolled her eyes but descended the winding staircase of the tower.
They passed open doors to other rooms; a receiving room, a small study, before they reached the main staircase.
As they walked towards the dining room, she was again struck at the lack of servants or guards in the manor.
For such a large place she had expected to see a lot more people about, but the grand halls were empty.
Even their much-reduced household in Kilgavie had felt more bustling than this tomb of a place.
Gnash threw open the doors to the dining room and dived towards a seat near the end of the long table.
She watched as he climbed up and laughed to see he could barely see over the top of the food laden table.
He glowered at her, climbed down, and rushed back out the room muttering to himself.
There had only been a few places set, one of which was already occupied.
With relief she noted that it was not the master of the house.
Corvin slowly pushed out the chair he was sitting on, the wood scratching against the floor as he rose to his feet.
Rosamund stepped forward, hands out, “Oh please don’t get up,” she was afraid the skeletal man might break something in the process of doing so, she smiled at him, “enjoy your breakfast, please.”
Corvin smiled and inclined her head to her, slowly sitting back down again, “Normally I am a stickler for procedure, however, when my eggs are at risk of getting cold, I am prepared to make an exception.”