by one corner since the girls had let it go in their shock at seeing their mistress. It was obvious that Maud had intended to do all this without her knowledge and to present her with a fait accompli.
There was a nervous silence. ‘Well?’ Hester prompted.
‘I thought it would make the room a bit prettier,’ Maud suggested, her head on one side. ‘A bit of colour. And I’m just trying to find a pretty gown for you to wear tonight. And the girls…’ she petered out, seeing the rage on her mistress’s face.
‘The girls are changing the bedclothes,’ Hester finished for her.
‘Well, yes, my lady.’ Maud smirked. ‘They’re putting on the bridal linen. See how beautiful it is. See the embroidery and the fine stitching. It was worked by his lordship’s mother years ago, but it’s still beautiful. I’ve kept it wrapped with lavender and…’
Hester felt herself blush red hot. One of the girls giggled, but Hester didn’t trust herself to look her in the face and scold her. All she could do was stare at the bed. Her bed. And now everyone was expecting her to share it with him. That rude, dirty stranger who’d come to steal everything she loved in the world, the very things closest to her heart. And, as if that weren’t enough, he would take her body too. Body and soul. Body and soul. The words pulsed through her mind. He owns me body and soul.
‘Get out…and take that stupid thing with you,’ she commanded, flinging her arm towards the tapestry.
‘But, my lady—’ Maud began.
‘But, my lady, but, my lady! That’s all I hear from everyone. Don’t torture me by talking your rubbish.’
‘But it’s such a great day, God be praised. Our lord is back. Your husband…’
‘Leave me,’ Hester insisted and held the door wide for the girls and Maud to exit, then slammed it behind the old woman and surveyed the room. The tapestry still hung there limply.
The whole place had gone mad—and for what? For the return of a man who had deserted them all when they had needed him most. They were simpletons to welcome him back. Didn’t they realise he would be off again in a trice whenever it suited him?
She spun around to the tiny window slit in the wall. A little moonshine glowed through it, an invitation to her eyes. There were her fields, lying beneath the vast night sky, stars twinkling above them, and the sea beyond, huge and dark. She could hear it crashing relentlessly against the cliffs. Hester stared out into the inky gloom and felt emotion pricking at the backs of her eyes.
‘I won’t cry,’ she whispered to herself. ‘No matter what he does to me, what he takes from me, I won’t cry.’
It was the vow she had repeated to herself for the past ten years, ever since the fever had taken her parents. Ever since then, however dire life had been, sheer willpower had prevented her from shedding a single tear.
She felt as alone now as she had done then, coming to this strange place, full of strange faces. She knew them all now, but none of them understood her feelings, none could understand her horror of this thief-husband come to wrench away from her all she valued.
But moping wasn’t the answer—that would solve nothing. What she needed was action, a plan. Hester scratched at her head, trying to stimulate her thoughts. No plans jumped to mind, but she did realise that she was still covered with mud, now dried and flaking. In fact, it was making her scalp itch and her clothes stiff. She definitely needed to change her clothes and have a really good wash, and, yes, Maud had thought of everything. As well as a fire blazing in the hearth, there was a large bowl of hot water in the corner behind the screen.
Glad to be doing something, Hester pulled off her clothes quickly, dropping them in a muddy heap on the floor. The water was warm and smelled of lavender. There was something calming about standing in her warm bedroom washing herself after the shocks and humiliations of the day.
She picked up the cake of soap. It was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself, quite different from the caustic soap they boiled up in the kitchen using lard, which stank to high heaven as it bubbled away. This soap was fine and hard, pale brown in colour, made in Spain using oil of olives and smelling pleasantly of that distant land. Hester had bought a stock of it at last year’s fair in Wareham on Maud’s strict orders, else the price would definitely have deterred her. ‘It’s what my lady Adela always used and you could do worse than emulate the old mistress’s ways,’ Maud had scolded time and again when she saw the dirt which always seemed to be ingrained in Hester’s hands.
As Hester scrubbed at her arms with the soapy flannel, her mind grew numb, which seemed a blessing after the way it had been racing a few minutes before.
She dipped the cloth into the water and rubbed it more gently over her skin, trying to wash away all the tension and uncertainty which that man—her husband—had brought with him. She unplaited her fair hair and fluffed it out before dipping her head into the bowl. The water soothed her aching head as she massaged her scalp. Looking down, she almost smiled as she saw the contents of the bowl turning brown with mud. How often Maud had berated her for her unlady-like ability to attract dirt.
Tipping the dirty water into the slop bucket and refilling the bowl from the warm jug, Hester began to rinse herself clean. Across the room, the door clicked as it opened and shut again. So, Maud had soon recovered from her scolding and was returning to help her dress.
‘Pass me a towel, will you?’ Hester called out, as she stood dripping behind the screen, squeezing the water from her long hair.
‘Towel, please, Maud,’ she called again. Maud was being slow, perhaps still sulking from her telling-off. Hester rubbed the flannel over her face one last time in case any mud lingered. Some soap dripped into her eyes and stung so sharply that she stood there blinking and wincing, unable to see anything as her eyes watered with pain.
‘Ouch, I’ve got soap in my eyes. Where’s that towel?’ she demanded, sticking out her hand until the towel was thrust into it. ‘Thank you,’ she said, dabbing at her sore eyes. They were smarting less now as she raised her head and found herself looking not at the plump, familiar face of Maud, but into the hard, rugged features of her husband.
‘You!’ she cried. ‘I thought it was Maud.’
‘No, it’s definitely not Maud,’ he replied, his eyes lingering on her naked curves.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded, trying to cover herself with the towel. ‘How dare you enter my room without my permission? How dare you pretend to be my maid? Have you no honour? You despicable…’ Hester realised there were no words to describe the outrage he had perpetrated.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, woman, I didn’t pretend,’ he protested heatedly. ‘You heard me come in, you asked me to pass you a towel. I fetched you one. I don’t need permission to enter my own house.’
So this was how it was to be. He intended to trample all over her, allow her no rights, no privacy…
‘You despicable rat,’ she snapped.
‘Holy blood, woman, is there no reason in you? I didn’t even know this was your chamber. I haven’t set foot in this house for ten years, remember?’
‘How could I forget?’ Hester shot back.
‘If you must know, this was
