Chapter Six

The housekeeper showed Crystal up a flight of stairs to her sumptuous bedchamber. “Here you are, my lady. The rose room. Pull the bell cord if you need anything.” She curtsied and left.

She paused at the door. The chamber was heart-stoppingly magnificent.

The elaborate room had cornices and woodwork all painted a pale shade of pink that had been picked out from the striped wallpaper, which featured lines of tiny rosebuds from ceiling to floor. The curtains and bed hangings were patterned with roses in bunches. The chamber smelled sweet and welcoming, and the sound of birds chirping floated in from the open window.

There were two doors leading from the bedchamber. One was a dressing room, where she could see Hilda unpacking her gowns into an elegant chinoiserie clothes press. She didn’t open the door to the other. Instead, her maid came out of the dressing room and regarded the bed with her eyebrows raised.

On the pillow sat one deep red long-stemmed rose tied with a matching ribbon bow.

She walked over, picked it up, and smelled it. “Did Lord Lyle leave this?”

“I dinnae ken. Clearly your speech mentioning desire impressed him, if he did. Do you think he means to call on you tonight?” the maid teased.

A flush burned Crystal’s cheeks. “Oh dear, did that dreadful slip of the tongue reach your ears?”

“The very next day, via the water deliverer to the kitchen maid to me. Seems everyone who is anyone and their servants were talking about it.”

“Those stubborn, rock-headed Scots wouldn’t listen to a word I said, and I lost my temper. It just came out.”

“You have your father’s temper and tongue.”

“He got away with it because of his sex,” she said woefully.

“Never were truer words spoken. Now, should I lay out your nightgown, or do you wish to sleep naked?” This time Hilda waggled her eyebrows.

“You know you’d be shocked if I did. You’re the one always telling me I’m too forward.”

“You could get away with it in the Highlands when your father was alive, for no man would lay a hand on you. We’ll have to come up with another strategy. We could always swap chambers… The marquis is the fairest man I’ve seen, an’ I dinnae think he’d notice the difference in the dark.”

Crystal laughed, looking at her stout maid, who stood with her hands on her ample hips, merriment on her face. “And just where are you sleeping, should I find the need to switch chambers?”

“On the third story, where no lord will wish to come calling, on account of he’ll expire after he’s climbed all those back stairs.”

Somehow, she doubted the athletic Lord Lyle would expire from anything. “He is handsome and will be hard to resist, but I’ll keep that in mind,” she added with a quirk of a smile.

“Now I have something to show you. It’s the oddest contraption, but worth seeing. I’ve naught seen the likes of it before,” the maid said, striding to the unopened door.

She followed her maid into a tiled room, where an elegant wooden commode sat. In the center of the room was a large contraption made of long pipes that extended to the ceiling, sitting in a round, metal bath. A large basin full of small holes sat atop the pipes. There was water pooled in the bath below, and next to it, a pump.

“What is it?” Crystal asked in wonder.

“It’s called a shower bath. The head housekeeper showed me how to use it, should you wish to bathe. But you’ll need to wear this waxed cone hat on your head so your hair doesn’t get wet.”

Hilda handed it to her, and she thought she would look the fool wearing the thing. Her maid then pushed on the pump, and water from the bath below was sucked into the pipes, traveled upwards, and sprayed out from the perforated basin above.

“The water falls over your shoulders, runs down, and the pump takes it up again. I ordered up some hot water because I thought you’d wish to try it.”

“Good heavens. Is a hip bath not good enough?” Crystal bent and put her fingers in the shower water. “Ugh! It’s icy cold.”

“It will improve when hot water is added,” the maid said, then went to answer a knock at the door. Several footmen carrying in large jugs of steaming water filled the circular bath.

When they were gone, Crystal picked up a packet from a shelf on which sat several exotic toiletries. She unwrapped the silk paper and smelled the soap inside, closing her eyes in rapture. “It smells of bergamot.”

“Can I try, my lady?” Hilda held it close and took a large sniff. “Oh, how wonderful. I’d even get in that contraption to use something as lovely-smelling as this.”

Crystal opened a large wooden box sitting on the bathroom shelf. Inside was every powder and makeup she’d ever seen in the apothecary—and some she hadn’t. She pulled out several white paper disks imprinted with white powder and examined them. “Will you look at this?”

“Don’t use those. I heard tell a lady lost all her eyebrows using it,” Hilda warned. “Yer face is pale enough.”

Crystal dropped it back in the box and rustled through the other contents. “There’s rouge, lip pomade, and drops for eyes. The duchess has thought of everything,” she said.

What an unaccustomed pleasure to visit a place where coin was not in short supply. She’d investigate all the items when Hilda wasn’t around to scold.

“Be careful, my lady. Too much makeup and the gentleman will think badly of you,” Hilda warned as she undid the tiny buttons on the back of Crystal’s gown and helped her out of it.

“I won’t be using makeup like a whore,” Crystal assured her, closing the box. After her maid had helped her out of her dress, stays, and chemise, she placed the waxed paper cone on her head, tucking her curls underneath.

Hilda blinked. “At the moment, you’re looking more the dunce.”

Crystal looked at herself in the mirror and laughed at her comical reflection. “Aye, a dunce to accept Lord Lyle’s invitation and not know his intentions…though I can rightly guess. But he won’t be getting me alone, I assure you. Come, work the pump, and I’ll try this shower bath.”

She stepped into the tub, finding the water already cooling. The late-afternoon temperature had become crisp. Hilda pumped, and water rained down upon Crystal’s head as she soaped herself all over.

She shivered. “A grand idea, but by the time the water goes up the metal pipe and out the top, it’s cold.”

Bubbles of soap pooled in the water and were sucked up the pipes again.

“I wish I’d thought to ask the footmen to leave the jug of water so I could rinse you properly,” Hilda said.

“Enough of the pump, Hilda. I’m freezing. Pass me a towel. I wish to get out before this cone falls off my head.” The maid held up a linen towel, and she stepped out of the tub. “Brrr. I dinnae think that shower bath will catch on.”

An hour later, she was dressed in a soft-pink silk gown with a low square neckline and long gloves, with her hair curled into ringlets and pinned around her face. She walked over to the bed, swiped up the long-stemmed rose, and snipped off most of the stalk with a pair of petite silver manicure scissors.

“What are you doing, my lady?” Hilda asked in astonishment.

“My hair needs decoration. I’m putting this beautiful rose to good use rather than allowing it to wilt on the pillow.” She picked up some hairpins from the dresser, tucked the stem into her elaborate style, and pinned it into place.

“Careful, my lady, or you’ll fire up the gentleman like a red rag to a turkey-cock.”

“We dinnae ken if Lord Lyle placed the rose on my pillow.” She reached up and touched it gently. “But I mean to find out.”