A maid peered over Mrs. Cardy’s bony shoulder. The girl’s round face was tanned and her dark hair wild beneath her mob cap. This was an entire army of servants under Cassandra’s command.
For a breath of a second, she felt intimidated at such an undertaking, but then the housekeeper clapped her hands, and every member of staff jumped to action.
Cassandra’s carpetbag, hatbox, and sewing kit were placed carefully in the room. The young maid draped sheeting over the copper tub, and then stood back while the kitchen boys filled it.
Wade observed the ritual carefully, as if everything must be perfect for her.
At last, Mrs. Cardy whisked them all away—save the maid—and closed the door at her back.
The duke cleared his throat. “If you’ve no objections, I thought we might rest a while and take a tray in our rooms. It’s been a long day, and I see no need to change for supper. Do you?”
Cassandra shook her head. She had a sneaking suspicion that, after her bath, she’d fall straight into bed and sleep for a hundred years. She’d been up since well before dawn, and the train journey had sapped what little energy she’d had. Truly, she’d been running off pure excitement all this time.
“I should like to get acquainted with my new rooms,” she said.
“Take your time, then. Should you need anything, ring the bell-pull.”
She smiled. If the maid had not been there, she might’ve kissed him. “Thank you again, Wade.”
“You’re most welcome.” He bowed, equally formal in front of this wild-haired girl. “Goodnight.”
With that, he too was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY
She turned and extended her hand to the maid. “How do you do? I am Miss Staunton.”
The young woman did not shake her hand, but dropped to the deepest, most formal curtsey her sturdy legs allowed. “How d’ee do, ma’am? I be called Wenna.”
An interesting name—certainly not one she’d heard in Derbyshire—but the people of Cornwall had their own names, traditions, and dialects. Indeed, they spoke their own language. Cassandra would have to train her ear to this new form of talking.
“Wenna? How charming!” She did her best to make the girl feel at ease, as she could see her mob cap trembling. Surely, facing one’s new mistress was daunting. “Are you to be my lady’s maid, then?”
Again, the girl curtseyed, clutching her apron front. She couldn’t be very long out of the schoolroom, though she was a hardy little thing. “If it do please ‘ee, ma’am.”
“It will, indeed, for I’ve never had a lady’s maid. Have you?”
Wenna giggled. “No’m.”
“Then we shall learn together. First things first, I need a bath, and since you’ve so cleverly seen the tub filled, I had better get in whilst the water is hot.”
The maid took her cue, seeing to the hooks and eyes of her new mistress’ traveling cloak and frock. She helped Cassandra remove petticoats and cage-crinoline, and then her chemise, corset, and drawers.
Once undressed, Cassandra stepped behind the privacy screen and sank into the steaming copper tub. Hot water covered her knees, her hips, her belly, her breasts, and her shoulders. She stretched her stiff, aching limbs—although modern marvels, trains weren’t terribly comfortable—and propped her feet up on the lip of the tub.
What luxury! Bathwater enveloped her in a warm embrace, soothing all discomfort from her sore muscles. She leaned her head back against the bath-sheet and sighed.
A woman could get used to this…
Restful silence was shattered by a great commotion on the other side of the privacy screen. The little maid hauled her mistress’ carpetbag and hatbox into the dressing room, opening wardrobe doors and slamming chest lids.
Cassandra’s sigh turned to a groan when the girl poked her head through and asked, “What ought I to do with this?” Wenna held her sewing kit out, absent-mindedly threatening to tip its contents into the water.
“On the table by the settee, please.” She liked plenty of light to stitch by, and if she was going to create something special for Wadebridge, the sewing kit and embroidery hoop were safest placed in her personal domain.
Wenna carried the kit to the sitting area and deposited it atop a rosewood table.
Cassandra returned to her hot soak, closing her eyes and letting her cares melt away into the still-warm water.
