breath, but this time Kate endured the agony, resigning herself to the necessity of having two finger-widths of the hair above her natural hairline removed for the sake of fashion. Soon the polished wooden floor was strewn with copper-colored strands, and Anne was standing back to admire her handiwork.
“’Tis well done, I think, Kate. Now we can fit you with a proper headpiece to match your new gown. Father agreed you should have one.” Anne picked up some of the hair from the floor and tied it with a piece of thread. “May I keep this in memory of the occasion?”
“Certes! I have no need of it.” Kate gingerly fingered her denuded brow and went to look in the full-length, burnished copper mirror in its carved frame, another luxury she was becoming accustomed to in her new home. “’Tis strange to see me thus. Do it become me, Anne?” She peered closely at herself. The green flecks in her golden eyes seemed more pronounced without the competition from her hair, and she was not displeased with what she saw.
“In truth, you are beautiful,” Anne murmured and self-consciously stepped beyond the mirror’s critical eye.
Kate grimaced. “Bah! Look at all these hideous freckles.” Anne giggled.
They heard footsteps in the adjoining solar, and both girls moved quickly to the window and picked up their embroidery. Kate’s needlework was often blotched with blood, and Elinor would look in scorn at her untidy efforts. Kate much preferred learning the art of preparing herbal remedies, which usually followed Elinor’s lessons in sewing. Anne’s stitches on the other hand were as dainty and precise as she was in all aspects of her person, and she derived much pleasure from the creation of an exquisite piece of embroidery.
The latch on the door was lifted with a determined click, the door swung open and Elinor marched in, her beady eyes sweeping the room for anything she could criticize. She wore an overdress of russet wool, which, coupled with her birdlike features and tiny frame, made Kate think of a wren. She went briskly over to inspect her charges’ work.
“Only a few more stitches since I left? What have you idle maids been doing?” She slapped Kate’s cheek. Kate winced but said nothing. She was used to Elinor’s outbursts of anger, and although she did not understand the reason for them, she was determined that Elinor would never see her cry. Anne, however, began to whimper, and this further infuriated her mother, who snatched away her embroidery and threw it across the room, making Anne cry even harder. Elinor stamped her foot angrily and told the girls they could expect no supper that night. And then she noticed the hair on the floor and Kate’s newly plucked brow.
“So, mistress, you have high-flown ideas, have you? How dare you fritter your time on primping, when everyone knows you to be only a peasantgirl? Get out of here and find work in the kitchen, where you truly belong!” Elinor was white with rage and jealousy.
Kate rose from her seat, her cheek burning. She touched Anne in a gesture of comfort and left the room. Her thoughts were not kind as she ran along the corridor and went down the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her. She went out of the back door into the tiny open courtyard behind the hall that led to the kitchens and sat down heavily on a bench, oblivious of the rain. She would get her assignment later from the cook, she decided. The kitchen staff was accustomed to her looking for some task to perform as punishment, and, feeling sorry for her, they usually gave her something light to do.
Although Kate was glad to be at Ightham, things had not been as rosy as she had dreamed they would be. Elinor had made good her private promise to make Kate’s life as miserable as possible, but what puzzled Kate was that Elinor hurt Anne in the process. Her own daughter, she thought bitterly, imagining the harsh words Anne would be hearing now.
She cast her mind back to the farm and the loving
“’Tis well done, I think, Kate. Now we can fit you with a proper headpiece to match your new gown. Father agreed you should have one.” Anne picked up some of the hair from the floor and tied it with a piece of thread. “May I keep this in memory of the occasion?”
“Certes! I have no need of it.” Kate gingerly fingered her denuded brow and went to look in the full-length, burnished copper mirror in its carved frame, another luxury she was becoming accustomed to in her new home. “’Tis strange to see me thus. Do it become me, Anne?” She peered closely at herself. The green flecks in her golden eyes seemed more pronounced without the competition from her hair, and she was not displeased with what she saw.
“In truth, you are beautiful,” Anne murmured and self-consciously stepped beyond the mirror’s critical eye.
Kate grimaced. “Bah! Look at all these hideous freckles.” Anne giggled.
They heard footsteps in the adjoining solar, and both girls moved quickly to the window and picked up their embroidery. Kate’s needlework was often blotched with blood, and Elinor would look in scorn at her untidy efforts. Kate much preferred learning the art of preparing herbal remedies, which usually followed Elinor’s lessons in sewing. Anne’s stitches on the other hand were as dainty and precise as she was in all aspects of her person, and she derived much pleasure from the creation of an exquisite piece of embroidery.
The latch on the door was lifted with a determined click, the door swung open and Elinor marched in, her beady eyes sweeping the room for anything she could criticize. She wore an overdress of russet wool, which, coupled with her birdlike features and tiny frame, made Kate think of a wren. She went briskly over to inspect her charges’ work.
“Only a few more stitches since I left? What have you idle maids been doing?” She slapped Kate’s cheek. Kate winced but said nothing. She was used to Elinor’s outbursts of anger, and although she did not understand the reason for them, she was determined that Elinor would never see her cry. Anne, however, began to whimper, and this further infuriated her mother, who snatched away her embroidery and threw it across the room, making Anne cry even harder. Elinor stamped her foot angrily and told the girls they could expect no supper that night. And then she noticed the hair on the floor and Kate’s newly plucked brow.
“So, mistress, you have high-flown ideas, have you? How dare you fritter your time on primping, when everyone knows you to be only a peasantgirl? Get out of here and find work in the kitchen, where you truly belong!” Elinor was white with rage and jealousy.
Kate rose from her seat, her cheek burning. She touched Anne in a gesture of comfort and left the room. Her thoughts were not kind as she ran along the corridor and went down the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her. She went out of the back door into the tiny open courtyard behind the hall that led to the kitchens and sat down heavily on a bench, oblivious of the rain. She would get her assignment later from the cook, she decided. The kitchen staff was accustomed to her looking for some task to perform as punishment, and, feeling sorry for her, they usually gave her something light to do.
Although Kate was glad to be at Ightham, things had not been as rosy as she had dreamed they would be. Elinor had made good her private promise to make Kate’s life as miserable as possible, but what puzzled Kate was that Elinor hurt Anne in the process. Her own daughter, she thought bitterly, imagining the harsh words Anne would be hearing now.
She cast her mind back to the farm and the loving
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