bath.
“I had no idea why everyone was so all-fired certain ye’d need a bath,” Una said, echoing her thoughts. “Until I saw the linen hanging from the stair railing.”
Merry gave a slight start at the hardness that had entered the maid’s voice. She now noted the pity filling her face and bit her lip with worry as she wondered if she had not put enough blood on the cloth. “What is wrong with the linen?”
“What is wrong with it?” the maid gasped. “Why, ’tis covered in blood.”
Merry waved that away with unconcern. “Well,’tis expected. He was to break my maiden’s veil last eve.”
“Break it, aye, but to cause so much blood he must have done more than that. The maun must ha’e been an animal. I was surprised to open the door and find ye standing this morn. Does it hurt to walk?”
Actually, it did, she acknowledged to herself, but only because of the tender cuts on her thighs, not for the reason Una thought. Frowning, she asked, “Was there too much blood then?”
“Aye,” she assured her firmly. “’Tis normally just a bit of it.”
Merry clucked irritably at this news as she began to strip her gown back off. “I wish ye’d told me so ere last night. That means I needn’t have cut meself the second time at all.”
“Cut yerself? Ye mean ’tis no’ from the bedding?”
“My husband was so drunk he knocked himself out almost the minute everyone left the room,” Merry said dryly, her voice muffled as she pulled the gown over her face. “He couldna bed anyone. But I kenned everyone would expect we consummate and be looking for the linen in the morning to prove it, so I cut meself and smeared the blood on the linen.” She got the gown off and tossed it across the nearest chest with an irritated grimace. “I wasna sure how much blood there should be, but the first cut seemed to produce little, so I cut meself again. Only the second cut was deeper than I’d intended and bled quite freely.”
Merry had tugged off her chemise as she spoke and now tossed it after the gown before turning tosee Una’s expression. The woman looked partly horrified at this news, partly admiring, and mostly like she was fighting to keep from laughing. Merry supposed it would be funny if she weren’t still suffering a sore thigh from her efforts.
“What did yer husband say about it?” the maid asked finally, managing to stifle her amusement.
Merry shrugged. “Nothing. He was unconscious, as I said.”
Una waved that away. “But what did he say this morn when he saw it?”
Merry didn’t have any recollection at all of being woken and roused from her bed this morn, but she must have been for them to have taken the linen, she reasoned.
“I’m no’ sure,” she confessed unhappily. “I doona really recall waking this morning until just now.”
Una pondered that briefly and then suggested, “Mayhap ye didna. Mayhap he just scooped ye up off the bed so they could take the linen and then set ye back to continue yer sleep.”
Merry’s eyebrows rose at the suggestion. She supposed that was most likely what had happened, else she’d have some memory of what had occurred, at least a sleepy, fuzzy one. However, it suggested a thoughtfulness and kindness on the part of her husband that she didn’t generally equate with drunks. Their actions were usually selfish and thoughtless. At least they seemed to her to be. Although her own father and brothers had occasionally displayed a sweetness when sober that caught her by surprise.
Shrugging the matter away, she moved to the tub and leaned down to test the water. Finding it satisfactory, Merry then stepped carefully over the edge, grimacing as lifting her leg pulled on the wound again. Knowing the perfumed water was likely to sting the cut, Merry sucked in a breath and tried to steel herself against it, but still gasped in another breath as she settled to sit in the tub and the water covered her thighs. The pain was even worse than she’d feared,
“I had no idea why everyone was so all-fired certain ye’d need a bath,” Una said, echoing her thoughts. “Until I saw the linen hanging from the stair railing.”
Merry gave a slight start at the hardness that had entered the maid’s voice. She now noted the pity filling her face and bit her lip with worry as she wondered if she had not put enough blood on the cloth. “What is wrong with the linen?”
“What is wrong with it?” the maid gasped. “Why, ’tis covered in blood.”
Merry waved that away with unconcern. “Well,’tis expected. He was to break my maiden’s veil last eve.”
“Break it, aye, but to cause so much blood he must have done more than that. The maun must ha’e been an animal. I was surprised to open the door and find ye standing this morn. Does it hurt to walk?”
Actually, it did, she acknowledged to herself, but only because of the tender cuts on her thighs, not for the reason Una thought. Frowning, she asked, “Was there too much blood then?”
“Aye,” she assured her firmly. “’Tis normally just a bit of it.”
Merry clucked irritably at this news as she began to strip her gown back off. “I wish ye’d told me so ere last night. That means I needn’t have cut meself the second time at all.”
“Cut yerself? Ye mean ’tis no’ from the bedding?”
“My husband was so drunk he knocked himself out almost the minute everyone left the room,” Merry said dryly, her voice muffled as she pulled the gown over her face. “He couldna bed anyone. But I kenned everyone would expect we consummate and be looking for the linen in the morning to prove it, so I cut meself and smeared the blood on the linen.” She got the gown off and tossed it across the nearest chest with an irritated grimace. “I wasna sure how much blood there should be, but the first cut seemed to produce little, so I cut meself again. Only the second cut was deeper than I’d intended and bled quite freely.”
Merry had tugged off her chemise as she spoke and now tossed it after the gown before turning tosee Una’s expression. The woman looked partly horrified at this news, partly admiring, and mostly like she was fighting to keep from laughing. Merry supposed it would be funny if she weren’t still suffering a sore thigh from her efforts.
“What did yer husband say about it?” the maid asked finally, managing to stifle her amusement.
Merry shrugged. “Nothing. He was unconscious, as I said.”
Una waved that away. “But what did he say this morn when he saw it?”
Merry didn’t have any recollection at all of being woken and roused from her bed this morn, but she must have been for them to have taken the linen, she reasoned.
“I’m no’ sure,” she confessed unhappily. “I doona really recall waking this morning until just now.”
Una pondered that briefly and then suggested, “Mayhap ye didna. Mayhap he just scooped ye up off the bed so they could take the linen and then set ye back to continue yer sleep.”
Merry’s eyebrows rose at the suggestion. She supposed that was most likely what had happened, else she’d have some memory of what had occurred, at least a sleepy, fuzzy one. However, it suggested a thoughtfulness and kindness on the part of her husband that she didn’t generally equate with drunks. Their actions were usually selfish and thoughtless. At least they seemed to her to be. Although her own father and brothers had occasionally displayed a sweetness when sober that caught her by surprise.
Shrugging the matter away, she moved to the tub and leaned down to test the water. Finding it satisfactory, Merry then stepped carefully over the edge, grimacing as lifting her leg pulled on the wound again. Knowing the perfumed water was likely to sting the cut, Merry sucked in a breath and tried to steel herself against it, but still gasped in another breath as she settled to sit in the tub and the water covered her thighs. The pain was even worse than she’d feared,
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