wood. It felt rough against her naked back. She looked around the room, wondering if she'd have to wrap the sheet around her toga-style, or if there was something else in here that she could wear? She stepped over her ruined shift in disgust, and thought of returning to her room, wondering what awaited her there. She sighed and settled for the sheet, tucking it over one arm, and around her chest like a sarong. Mackenzie took a deep calming breath and opened the door to her room.
Luckily, no one was in her room, alive, or otherwise. It was apparent that her room had been cleaned as well. Her bed was freshly made, and there was even a fresh linen shift on top of the brocade cover. She hadn't really looked at the bed before; it was a huge wooden canopy bed with the duvet matching the canopy in a golden brocade. No one would ever know that there had been two dead bodies lying there just a few hours before.
Mackenzie mentally thanked Bronwyn, or whomever, for the clean shift and threw it on hurriedly, tossing Connor's sheet on the chair. Connor had said to get some rest, but she could see the pale light from the sunrise streaking through her window. Glancing at her watch she saw it was after five.
Ugh, she ran a hand across her face and wished for some coffee, or an energy drink, or some other form of caffeine.
102
She wasn't sure what they would eat here, or when breakfast would be, so she tried to dress herself so she could go explore. Hmm, the stays were much harder to do herself than she'd expected. So she passed the time by digging through her purse. Oh! The amulet! She'd forgotten about that. She put it around her neck, and stuffed it down into her shift.
When Bronwyn knocked on the door, Mackenzie half expected to see Connor standing there. But she let Bronwyn in with a bright smile; she was, after all, the only person who hadn't looked at her with hate or anger.
"Good morning, my Lady. Have ye slept much? I heard about all the excitement last night."
A wry smile twisted Mackenzie's lips as she thought of Bronwyn's understatement ; excitement. Hah! "Not much, Bronwyn, thank you for asking." She was determined to make friends with Bronwyn. She needed a friend.
"I'd imagine not, dearie. Here ye are; I had Cook make some scones and eggs for ye. We thought it best to introduce ye to our foods slowly. Tonight we'll serve haggis; it's not for the faint of heart." As she said this, she'd gone to the large trunk and pulled out a lavender gown with some more undergarments that looked bulky and uncomfortable.
Mackenzie sighed as she thought wistfully of jeans and a t-shirt. "Here we go, dearie, this one will look lovely on ye."
Mackenzie smiled at being called "dearie" by a girl her own age, if not younger. But she preferred it to "My Lady" by far.
This time, Mackenzie watched how Bronwyn laced up her stays, and wrapped a full skirt thingie around her waist.
103
"What's the difference between what I'm wearing, stays is it? And a corset?"
Bronwyn's forehead creased, "I'm not sure what yer meanin' by 'corset,' my Lady. Is it that what the French are wearin' nowadays?"
"I guess so." She'd made a mistake in asking, but she wanted to know what they were called. Bronwyn didn't seem to have as many articles of clothing on; a simple dress to her ankles, and the unavoidable stays, plus an apron, with a cap the same color. Hmm... must be the whole people dressing according to their stations type of thing . "And what is this?"
Mackenzie lifted part of the heavy puffy skirt.
"Yer petticoats, my Lady?" Bronwyn was giving her a look as if she were crazy.
"Ah, yes, of course. I'm sorry, it's just my father had new gowns made for my trip here, and I'm not used to such confining garments." Mackenzie lied with an aura of distraction, as if it didn't matter to her, hoping Bronwyn would let it drop.
"Well, yer father must have spent a pretty penny to have these dresses made for ye. I have never seen their equal in material or
Luckily, no one was in her room, alive, or otherwise. It was apparent that her room had been cleaned as well. Her bed was freshly made, and there was even a fresh linen shift on top of the brocade cover. She hadn't really looked at the bed before; it was a huge wooden canopy bed with the duvet matching the canopy in a golden brocade. No one would ever know that there had been two dead bodies lying there just a few hours before.
Mackenzie mentally thanked Bronwyn, or whomever, for the clean shift and threw it on hurriedly, tossing Connor's sheet on the chair. Connor had said to get some rest, but she could see the pale light from the sunrise streaking through her window. Glancing at her watch she saw it was after five.
Ugh, she ran a hand across her face and wished for some coffee, or an energy drink, or some other form of caffeine.
102
She wasn't sure what they would eat here, or when breakfast would be, so she tried to dress herself so she could go explore. Hmm, the stays were much harder to do herself than she'd expected. So she passed the time by digging through her purse. Oh! The amulet! She'd forgotten about that. She put it around her neck, and stuffed it down into her shift.
When Bronwyn knocked on the door, Mackenzie half expected to see Connor standing there. But she let Bronwyn in with a bright smile; she was, after all, the only person who hadn't looked at her with hate or anger.
"Good morning, my Lady. Have ye slept much? I heard about all the excitement last night."
A wry smile twisted Mackenzie's lips as she thought of Bronwyn's understatement ; excitement. Hah! "Not much, Bronwyn, thank you for asking." She was determined to make friends with Bronwyn. She needed a friend.
"I'd imagine not, dearie. Here ye are; I had Cook make some scones and eggs for ye. We thought it best to introduce ye to our foods slowly. Tonight we'll serve haggis; it's not for the faint of heart." As she said this, she'd gone to the large trunk and pulled out a lavender gown with some more undergarments that looked bulky and uncomfortable.
Mackenzie sighed as she thought wistfully of jeans and a t-shirt. "Here we go, dearie, this one will look lovely on ye."
Mackenzie smiled at being called "dearie" by a girl her own age, if not younger. But she preferred it to "My Lady" by far.
This time, Mackenzie watched how Bronwyn laced up her stays, and wrapped a full skirt thingie around her waist.
103
"What's the difference between what I'm wearing, stays is it? And a corset?"
Bronwyn's forehead creased, "I'm not sure what yer meanin' by 'corset,' my Lady. Is it that what the French are wearin' nowadays?"
"I guess so." She'd made a mistake in asking, but she wanted to know what they were called. Bronwyn didn't seem to have as many articles of clothing on; a simple dress to her ankles, and the unavoidable stays, plus an apron, with a cap the same color. Hmm... must be the whole people dressing according to their stations type of thing . "And what is this?"
Mackenzie lifted part of the heavy puffy skirt.
"Yer petticoats, my Lady?" Bronwyn was giving her a look as if she were crazy.
"Ah, yes, of course. I'm sorry, it's just my father had new gowns made for my trip here, and I'm not used to such confining garments." Mackenzie lied with an aura of distraction, as if it didn't matter to her, hoping Bronwyn would let it drop.
"Well, yer father must have spent a pretty penny to have these dresses made for ye. I have never seen their equal in material or
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