Anne’s doublet dropped away and Mary attacked the tie that closed the waist of her skirts. They dropped to her ankles, leaving her in her chemise and stays. Anne felt Mary’s fingers on the ties that closed the corset, loosening them until her breasts hung free. Any other time, she would have savored the freedom from her stays, but Philipa’s eyes dropped to her chest, inspecting her body. Philipa’s lip curled in distaste as Mary grasped the hem of Anne’s chemise and pulled it over her head. Philipa stared at her bared chest and grunted.
“With plump tits like those, you should breed quickly. I made a wise choice when I had you watched. You’d have a string of bastards like your mother if I hadn’t.”
“I am not promiscuous.”
Philipa glared at her. “What you are is forgetful of your station.”
Anne sat down on a small stood to begin removing her boots. She hid her fury as she looked at the boot lacings. It would be most unwise to continue to speak her mind. Her family would be left behind to suffer Philipa’s temper.
But she wanted to voice every word she’d ever bitten back. The woman was horrible, an evil consort of demons. No one else could contrive such a plan or force it onto the shoulders of another.
“Hurry up.” Mary dropped to her knees and began pulling on the other boot. “We haven’t much time.” Her eyes shimmered with glee as she removed the boot and yanked Anne’s stocking down.
Anne was suddenly shy. She’d never stood nude in front of anyone. Mary got to her feet and went around back of her to pull her braid loose. For such a spoilt child she was better at the task than Anne might have guessed. Her half-sister picked up a brush and began working it through Anne’s hair. It looked as though Mary had learned something at court while waiting on the Queen.
“Stand up. I want a look at you.”
Anne rose, her hands covering as much of her body as possible. Philipa snapped her fingers at her.
“Stop cowering.”
Anne bristled but let her hands fall to her sides. The lady swept her from head to toe, her lips pressing into a hard line.
“In with you, this Scot will never believe that his noble bride wasn’t bathed before his arrival.”
The water was still warm. It only made her angrier to sink into it and not be able to enjoy the moment. She always had to bathe in a chemise because the bathing tub used by the servants of Warwickshire was not in a private room. Besides, everyone needed help washing their hair or they tracked water across the floor when they went to fetch a bucket of rinse water. The sight of her own nipples was slightly distracting because she rarely looked at them.
The bar of soap landed in front of her, splashing water into her eyes. Her hand shot out, grabbing it out of reflex. Normally, no one simply threw such a costly item.
No one but Philipa, it would seem.
The soft scent of lavender teased her nose as Mary dumped a cup of water over her head. It was cold and tickled her nose. More followed until her hair was completely wet. But the fire was blazing, warming her bare skin. She had never had so fine a bath, never been allowed to wash with scented soap. The French soap glided over her skin. She suddenly understood why Philipa enjoyed her bath so much. If she were allowed such fine soap, she would linger in her bathing as well.
Mary rushed her through the bath, using hard motions of her hands to scrub Anne’s hair. Within a quarter hour, Anne stood in front of the fire with the linen wrapped around her body. Despair tried to claim her but she resisted. It was not an easy task but panic would only aid Philipa.
“Surely this cannot work.”
Philipa scoffed at her.
“What if the earl wishes to spend a few nights at Warwickshire before returning to his lands?”
“He’s Scots. The man will want to return home with all haste. I hear their clans raid one another when they hear the lord is away. Yet another reason why I will not send my only child to that barbaric land.” Philipa shook out a chemise. “No matter if he does decide to stay. I shall tell him Mary is ill. You will remain hidden until he is ready to depart.”
“Wear these.” Mary handed her stockings. Anne stared at them. The tiny rows of knitted finery were something she had dressed Philipa in but never dreamed to don herself. “You must be ready at all times.”
A fine chemise followed, as did an entire dress that was Mary’s. It was good wool for traveling but edged in trim that was only for vanity. A quilted petticoat and stays were fit to her body as well. Mary drew a brush through her hair until it was dry and then she braided it.
“There. Now, you will wear a veil when you meet this Scot so that none of the household staff become wise. You will remain in the upper alcove until I come for you. Make no mistake, my girl. Cross me and I will turn your mother out without a loaf of bread or a cloak.”