“Any chance to get some mint?” she called out while testing the white paste on the back of her hand.
“Shall I fetch it now?” Ebby asked. “Cook is sure to have some.”
“Later will be fine.” Lorna wasn’t comfortable about asking the girl tofetchanything. “If I could have some before bed, that would be lovely.” When she wet the white paste she’d smeared on her hand, it went all sudsy. She lathered the rag with the soap and washed and rinsed the major bits that threatened to become malodorous. Once she dried, she eyed the oil, cringing at the thought of rubbing the greasiness into her armpits. It just didn’t seem as if it would be comfortable at all. “Ebby?”
“Aye?”
“This oil. The lavender-smelling pot.”
“Has it gone rancid, mistress? I checked before I brought it up, but perhaps I missed it had turned.”
“No, no. It hasna turned.” Lorna caught her lip between her teeth, trying to come up with a believable way of asking about it. “I usually use powder.” There. That sounded plausible.
“The powder drew damp and molded. We had to throw it out. There willna be any more for a while yet, what with this winter’s dampness.” The maid sounded as if she was pacing back and forth outside the door. “I like the powder better too. Sometimes the oil keeps yer oxters all slickery for most of the day.”
Left with no choice, Lorna dabbed, rubbed it in the best she could, and prayed it worked. Of course, if Lady Murdina and her brother still reeked, no one would notice if she stank a bit. That thought consoled her. “I am ready to dress now. If ye will hand in the shift, I’ll slip it on and then come out for the rest.”
“I can help ye slip it on.” Ebby opened the door and waved for Lorna to come out. “Do ye feel refreshed now?”
It would be rude to describe the way she felt, so Lorna just smiled and nodded while trying to cover her personal bits with her hands and arms. Stiff-legged and burning with self-consciousness, she stepped out and allowed Ebby to slip the shift on over her head.
“Now the stays, bum roll, and petticoat,” she said.
“Not so tight.” Lorna squirmed and sucked in a deeper breath before the maid collapsed her lungs completely with the bony stays.
“But the laces must be tight to hold yer lovely shape properly.”
“I am more worried about holding the air I need.” Lorna tried to expand her ribcage to keep Ebby from yanking the ties any tighter.
“As ye wish.” Disappointment filled the lass’s tone as she tied on the pockets and bum roll. “Up with yer arms and bend forward.” She held an embroidered underskirt ready to slip over Lorna’s head next. After tugging it down in place, she secured the waistband with ties. Then she added a rich burgundy wool skirt, matching jacket, and embroidered stomacher that matched the petticoat. She stepped back and smiled. “I knew that color would suit ye. Adds color to yer cheeks.”
“Thank ye,” Lorna replied, feeling like Ebby’s favorite doll. A knock on the door gave her a surge of relief. “Come in.”
“Ye are dressed, aye?” Bella called out from the other side. “Frances is with me.”
“All I have left is to brush my hair.” Lorna held out her hand for the brush, but Ebby cocked a brow and hugged it to her chest as though ready to defend it with her life. With a defeated huff, Lorna gave in and turned so the maid could start brushing.
The children filed in and gave her critical up-and-down stares.
When they said nothing, Lorna glared at the three. “If I dinna suit ye, keep it to yerself. ’Tis too much work to change into something else, ye ken?”
“Oh no,” Frances piped up. “’Tis just that ye look so much nicer than before. Ye no longer look like a bedraggled rat pulled from the sewer.”
“Frances!” Hesther bumped him aside, then offered a meek bow of her head. “He means ye dinna seem so travel-weary, mistress.”
Bella covered her mouth and didn’t say a word.
Lorna couldn’t decide if the child was trying not to laugh or keep herself from saying the wrong thing. She cast a glance back at Ebby. “Did I really look all that bad?”
Ebby held the brush in midair, looking ready to panic. “Must I answer that, mistress?”
Lorna snorted a laugh. “I must have looked a sight, indeed. Cheers to Ebby for cleaning me up proper, aye?”
The trio of scamps breathed a collective sigh of relief and agreed with hearty nods.
After several hard tugs on her hair, Lorna held up a hand. “Easy now. My head’s still a mite tender from the whisky. What are ye doing to me? It’s too short to be done up into anything but a short ponytail.”
The children exploded with peals of laughter, and Ebby stepped around to lock eyes with her. “Aponytail? Why, I have never heard of such. Why on earth would ye talk as if yer head was a horse’s arse?”
