Page 12 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
“Yes, please,” said Cordelia, almost inaudibly.
“I’ll wash your hair for you,” said Alice, “and you can dry it in front of the fire while you have a bite to eat. How does that sound?”
It sounded overwhelming, frankly, but Cordelia knew that if she burst into tears, her mother would hear of it and she would have words. She had to have her best manners. This was part of her mother’s plan to marry the Squire, and if Cordelia messed that up by being Cordelia, being made obedient was probably the least of the punishments she could look forward to.
She nodded hopelessly and Alice took over. No one had washed her hair in years, and the maid was much gentler than Cordelia’s mother had ever been, but the sheer strangeness of the situation kept trying to grab her by the throat. Calm, she told herself. Calm. Stay calm. Don’t make a fuss. Do what is expected. Alice already told you what’s expected. You’ll go sit in front of the fire and eat whatever food they bring you. Calm.
But the lavender smelled good, and not at all like wormwood. Cordelia slowly let her shoulders relax, despite their desire to hunch up by her ears.
She had a bad moment when Alice held open a towel and said “If you’re ready to get out, miss?” and she realized that the maid was going to see her naked. But it wasn’t as if her mother didn’t barge in whenever she was bathing anyway, and say “Oh, stop, I’ve seen it hundreds of times before” when Cordelia squawked, so she stared at the ceiling as she rose up out of the water and Alice wrapped the towel around her, and it was all over blessedly quickly.
Her nightdress was laid out on the bed, looking almost embarrassed by its fine surroundings. Cordelia managed to get into it while Alice’s back was turned, and then the maid wrapped the dressing gown around her shoulders again and sat her down in front of the fire.
The food was the most delicious that she had ever eaten. There were little rolls and butter and a tiny pot of jam and a sliced pear, as well as a soft cheese that went well with the jam and the pear both. Cordelia ate every scrap.
“There you go, miss,” said Alice. Cordelia flushed guiltily—was she supposed to share some with the maid? She hadn’t thought—“Cook’ll be pleased to see that you enjoyed it. Now the bed’s ready and I’ve put a warm brick in for your feet.”
“Thank you,” said Cordelia. She swallowed. Thank you seemed inadequate for the food and the soap and the loan of the dressing gown. “Really, I… thank you.”
“Of course, miss.” Alice helped her to the bed. “If you need anything, I’ll be sleeping just off the dressing room. Just pull this cord and I’ll come at once.”
Cordelia looked dutifully at the cord in question, nodded, and vowed that she would not pull it unless the house was on fire.
Alice pulled the curtains closed. Cordelia felt as if she was in a beautiful fabric cocoon. The bed was very soft, but more than that, there were two closed doors and the curtains between Cordelia and her mother, and she slept more deeply than she ever remembered doing in her life.
CHAPTER 6
When Cordelia woke, she had a moment of confusion. There were voices… but no, there weren’t. She’d been dreaming. Perhaps she was still dreaming. The light was sea green and she was surrounded by it on all sides, and everything was soft, very soft, and very comfortable.
Am I dead? Is that why I’m so comfortable? The ground always looks very hard, but perhaps if you’re dead and made of bones, it feels soft?
This was an interesting theory, but she lifted one hand and it was made of flesh, not bone, and then she remembered that she was in the curtained bed and there were two closed doors.
In fact, if Mother is in a room like this one, there might be four closed doors.
This was a staggering thought. Four doors! Cordelia could think anything and it wouldn’t matter if it showed on her face. She could scowl and frown and glare and make terrible faces, and her mother would never know.
She attempted to make a terrible face, crossing her eyes and scrunching up her cheeks, whereupon the curtains opened and she yelped.
It was Alice. “I’m sorry to startle you, miss. Would you rather I knock on the door in the mornings?”
“I… uh…” Could she ask for that? Was that allowed? She took a deep breath. “That would be wonderful.”
The maid gave no indication that it was a strange request. “I’ve brought tea, miss, and there’s a tray coming up. It’s a bit late for breakfast downstairs, I’m afraid.”
“Oh no,” said Cordelia, sitting up. “Did I oversleep?”
“Not at all, miss. No one expected you up so soon, after your trip yesterday.” Alice smiled at her. “Properly dreadful it sounded, your carriage wheel breaking like that. And breakfast isn’t formal, so no one minds if you miss it.”
Cordelia relaxed a little. No one minds was not the same as your mother doesn’t mind, but it was close.
The tray had more of the delicious rolls, along with a sliver of ham and a small dish of strawberries. Cordelia found that she was ravenous, but knew better than to agree when Alice asked if she should bring up more. I must be a good guest. No one must have cause to complain. She wiped her hands and asked, “What can I do to help clean up?”
The maid paused. “Beg pardon?”
“The room.” Cordelia spread her hands. “I can help straighten it, if you tell me the way that you do things here.”
Alice was silent for a long moment, and Cordelia began to get the same sinking feeling she had had when she realized that she had mistaken the butler for the lord of the manor. “That is…” she stammered, “if… if I’m supposed to…”
