I couldn’t tell what she thought of me. She had to be surprised at my appearance. She had to have questions.
Slowly, I undressed myself but left my chemise on as I stood near the tub.
“Everything must come off, miss,” she said.
“Everythin’?” I’d never bathed naked before. It would have been indecent in the public baths.
“Yes, miss.”
I wanted her to stop calling memiss, but I was afraid to make the request. Surely she was more educated, more skilled and refined than I was. Why hadn’t Mrs. Hill asked her to become her daughter. Why me?
Embarrassment warmed my cheeks as Gallagher just stood and stared at me. She wouldn’t question me or challenge me—I could see it in her eyes—but she was judging me. She was probably laughing at my lack of knowledge about baths and wondering about her own misfortune in having to care for me.
With a deep breath, I decided that I would have to pretend I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t question everything Gallagher told me. I would just have to do it, even if it felt strange or uncomfortable.
I stripped off the last of my undergarments and watched as Gallagher left the bathroom, holding my threadbare items between her pinched fingers.
With her gone, I wasn’t sure how to proceed but decided the best course of action would be to get into the water. Slowly, I lifted one bare leg in.
The water was warm and pleasant as it pooled around my skin—not too hot and not too cold.
I pulled the other leg in and then lowered my body into the tub.
Warmth enveloped me from my neck to my toes. The smell of roses wafted up to my nose and I closed my eyes, feeling something like bliss for the first time in my life.
The bath was marvelous and every muscle in my body relaxed, easing into the weightlessness of the water.
Without even realizing it, I sighed.
What other wonders would I experience in Mrs. Hill’s home? My mind began to race with the possibilities—but I suddenly saw Aunt Orla’s sneering face in my mind, chastising me for indulging in fantasies.
But this wasn’t a fantasy. This was real.
Soon Gallagher was back, and she told me she would help me wash my hair.
It was another glorious experience as she poured warm water onto my head, lathered soap through my hair several times, and then rinsed it clean.
Even the soap felt extravagant and luxurious. It was soft against my skin and smelled like flowers. Nothing like the harsh soap I used at home.
Before long, Gallagher had a plush robe ready for me, and I stepped out of the bath. After drying my hair with a towel, she led me into Mrs. Hill’s large dressing room, where an outfit was waiting for me, including brand-new undergarments of the finest cotton I’d ever seen.
In quick succession, Gallagher helped me into drawers, stockings with garters, a chemise, and then a rigid corset.
“Such a small waist,” she said, almost to herself, which was her only comment since we’d started the process. I couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or just a passing remark.
After the corset came a padded bustle, which I’d never worn before, followed by a petticoat with stiff ruffles down the backside, a yellow skirt with flounces, tucks, and a small train, and then a long-sleeved matching bodice with a square neckline. Mrs. Hill was taller and plumper than me, so Gallagher had to make do, but it was easy enough to draw the skirt tighter around my waist and adjust the bodice to fit.
Gallagher turned me to face the full-length mirror, and though my hair was still damp around my shoulders, I hardly recognized the woman before me.
I had never looked in a full-length mirror. It felt like I was meeting a stranger.
Iwasbeautiful, with a creamy complexion, dark brown eyes, thick brown hair, and delicate features. There was a natural rosiness to my cheeks, and my lips were a soft pink. The warmth of the bath had heightened my color, I was sure, but for the first time, I could see what Mrs. Hill saw in me. Though it was only external—she could never see the ugly truth on the inside. No matter how pretty my gown, or how nice I smelled, the truth would eventually seep out of me. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Orla saw it, and Mrs. Hill would realize it one day, too.
I just hoped that when it happened, I could find a way to repay her—because now that I had tasted such delight—in little under an hour—I was convinced that I was spoiled for the life I had once led.
By evening, I was exhausted. I had not slept the night before and Mrs. Hill had kept me engaged in conversation all afternoon. One-sided conversation, but I wanted desperately to know everything I could.
Thankfully, she had a tray sent up to my room for supper, since she didn’t want the staff to know of my existence yet. I gobbled up the chicken in mushroom sauce, boiled potatoes, carrots, and lettuce salad. There was so much of it, I could hardly believe it was all for me. But the caramel custard was the best part. I tried to savor it, feeling the first twinge of guilt that I couldn’t share it with my younger cousin, Imogen. She loved sweets, though we rarely had them.
