"Here, please allow me to help you, mistress..." The contrition in Coira's voice was confusing. As if it were somehowherfault that Belle was on the floor. "Did you shift in your sleep, my lady? Do you need a larger bed?"
Taking Coira's hand, Belle was finally able to register the conversation and laughed. That anyone might need alargerbed was a ludicrous idea. The monstrous piece of furniture felt bigger than her whole house!
"Of course not!" she chuckled, noticing the worry in Coira's eyes. She gave an uncomfortable smile in return. "It was just...the bed. It were too soft."
"Too soft?" Coira asked, frowning. She turned her focus to the item in question and seemed to glare at it.
"You know, too..." Belle made a downward motion with her hands. "Squishy. Felt like I were in the bog down near Ol' Geoff's cottage and up to me neck in it. Hard to sleep when ya dinnae ken if you be sinking."
Coira was obviously unused to the way Belle spoke. She had that same frown of suspicious concentration on her face that had been permanently etched on Henry's face since they had first met the day before. But, to the woman's credit, she didn't criticize Belle as the counselor did. She simply tried to understand.
"I shall have some of the stuffing removed from the mattress, my lady. Perhaps then you'll sleep better?" she suggested. "Are you hungry? I brought with me your fast break. Only, thank goodness, I set the tray down before discovering you on the ground, or I may have dropped it. I felt for sure you had somehow fallen from bed and injured yourself!"
Touched by this apparent concern, Belle gave little notice for the way her nightgown had become hitched up on one leg and darted after Coira around the bed. Using both hands, she shoved her mane of hair back and followed her nose to a silver plate by the fireplace.
"Ye dinnae ken me." The words had left Belle's mouth before she could stop them, her genuine curiosity overriding her manners. Coira turned to look at her with surprise, her brows raised. Belle swallowed. "I mean, ye dinnae ken me, so why would ye fash over me being hurt?"
The looked that passed over the older woman's face was one of bemused confusion. She tilted her head as she surveyed the woman whose care she had been assigned and dusted the palms of her hands over her apron front.
"I am your lady's maid, mistress." The statement was spoken so simply, as if she were describing that the sky was blue and the rain wet. "It is my duty to care for your well-being."
"But..." Belle looked over the prepared food and felt a rumble in her belly. "What if ye didnae wish to?"
"Then I would do so all the same, my lady." Coira accompanied the vow with a shallow curtsy, which gave Belle a little thrill of discomfort.
Inhaling long and slow, she turned her attention to her morning meal.
Belle recognized plums that had been braised in some kind of syrup, a freshly peeled and sliced apple, two pieces of bread, a bowl of porridge that was still emitting wisps of steam, and a multi-pocketed silver plate. Each curving pocket held a blob of jam or marmalade, and the last on the right was pure sugar. A china cup like the one she had been brought the previous night sat in the corner, beside a personal teapot big enough for only one serving.
"Are ye going to eat with me?" When silence reigned behind her, Belle glanced back and found Coira staring at her in shock. "There's too much here for one. Ye won't eat?"
"That is not proper, my lady."
Belle sighed.
"My lady?"
"Being proper and appropriate doesnae seem like much fun. Henry Munro keeps tellin' me all the things I cannae do if ah'm a lady, and it be a long list." Belle's upper lip twisted in annoyance as she picked up an apple slice.
"Perhaps, my lady, you should ask the sir of all the things a fine ladycando that others might not? Supposing that may balance out such obstacles?"
Pausing with her hand over the porridge bowl, her palm turning damp with its steam, Belle considered this new idea.Werethere things that a lady could claim for her own? Fun things? Looking at the tray before her, it was clear that the richer folk ate better than she and her mother did. The bread was not burnt with the charcoal of an open fire, and the porridge was not lumpy. It had been a while since she had found an apple from which she did not have to carve a bruised patch before eating.
Perhaps there were other benefits?
"Can I eat, now?"
Coira blinked.
"But of course, my lady. You may eat at your leisure. No need to ask permission."
Suddenly excited, Belle darted into one of the seats at the table. Her nightgown whooshed about her, and she was forced to push down the air cushions on either side of her hips.
Not having to ask permission. Now, thatwasa benefit!
How often had her mother always told her what not to do and whether she needed to check first? How many times did she have to ask her mother for lenience over chores and visits into town? Would she be able to do those things without Ma's permission now?
She could just imagine returning home and insisting that, as a lady of breeding, she could do what she wished, and her mother would have to eat her complaints.
