“Oh, Yolande.” She held on to the tub and sank to her knees, resting her head on her forearms. “Please tell me this is real. Tell me you’re not going to snatch it away at the last minute.”
“Hmph,” Yolande muttered, helping her out of her stiff cloak. “It is real, milady. And naught more than you deserve, after your work this day.”
The serving girl came over to help unfasten her cloak and unlace her gown. Celine gratefully wriggled out of the filthy garments, hopped up on a stool, and went over the edge of the tub with a rather unladylike splash. Her cold skin and raw hands stung as soon as she hit the water, but she dunked herself and came up with a smile as the heat melted through her muscles. Slicking back her hair, she settled against the side with a long, deep sigh of relief. Not even her favorite five-thousand-per-week spa in Palm Springs had ever felt this good.
Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the heat for a blissful moment before she snagged the floating soap and started scrubbing away the mud and feathers and stench that clung to her skin, working up a frothy lather.
“Do you like the soap, milady?” Yolande asked. “It is a blend of wood-ash and oil of rosemary. I bought it at the village fair this Michaelmas past.”
“Yes, it’s very nice, thank you,” Celine replied with smile, sniffing the fragrant little cake in her hand. It was generous of Yolande to loan out her own personal soap ...
Only then did Celine recognize the change in Yolande’s attitude: the woman wasn’t acting at all hostile anymore, or even wary.
Come to think of it, neither was the other servant, Gabrielle, who was applying herself to washing Celine’s hair.
“Is that warm enough, milady?” Gabrielle asked as she poured a half bucket of water down Celine’s back to rinse out the soap. “I could run to the kitchens and heat some more, if you wish.”
“No, that’s fine.” Celine wiped the lather from her eyes and blinked at the pair of them through the bubbles. “Yolande, what am I to do after this?” she asked cautiously. There had to be some reason for their sudden about-face. Before now, everyone had made her feel about as welcome as a bag lady at a black-tie-only soiree.
“Sleep, of course,” Yolande said matter-of-factly. “Sir Gaston ordered only that you were to have this bath. Other than that, he left your duties up to me until his return.”
“I see. And what did you have in mind?”
“Well ...” The older woman pursed her lips. “Everyone was most taken with your cooking, milady—though I did not have any myself. I was displeased to learn that the cooks had given you such free rein in the kitchens. I feared you might poison us all.”
Celine gave her a pained expression. “I’m not the dragon lady everyone thinks I am, Yolande. I’m not here on any devious mission and I’m not going to harm a hair on anyone’s head.”
“Aye, well ...” The woman didn’t seem ready to make up her mind on that just yet. “Whatever the truth may be, no one heeded my warnings. There’s naught left of what you made. The meat pies, the breads, the odd flat pastry with cheese and onions—”
“Pizza,” Celine clarified. “And if I could get my hands on some tomatoes, I’d show you what a real one is supposed to taste like.”
“And the delicious small, flat sweet cakes you made, milady,” Gabrielle interjected. “What do you call them?”
“Cookies. Ginger snaps, to be exact.”
“Cookies,” Gabrielle repeated reverently. “Even Yolande liked those.”
Celine turned to Yolande with a raised, soapy eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t eat anything I made. I’m dangerous, you know. Poison and all that.”
“Aye, well ... after several hours ...” Yolande cleared her throat. “When it became clear that no one was dying ...” She cleared her throat again, then slowly, grudgingly, smiled. “Gabrielle said they were delicious, and near forced one down my throat.”
“But then you ate a half dozen more when you thought no one was looking,” Gabrielle pointed out.
Celine looked from one to the other, shaking her head in pleasant surprise. “I’m glad everyone enjoyed my cooking.” She smiled. “I know this winter is difficult for you, and I only want to help, for as long as I’m here. Please believe me.”
“I believe you,” Gabrielle declared. “You must have been so tired last night while you were cooking, yet you made such wonderful dishes for us. After the way we had treated you.” She shook her head in wonder. “How did you manage to make such heavenly foods when our stores are so meager?”