them’.
‘Thank you my Lady, at least I shall sleep tonight now knowing you will protect them.’
‘I hope that with the help of the Duke and some of his associates we will be able to do more. Tonight will be a testing point.’ Picking up a triangular piece of steel, she said, ‘And as for this contrivance, it is medieval torture. How women wear it between their breasts I don’t know.’
‘It does uplift and separate the bosoms milady.’
‘Never – never. I’m sure if I fell it would cut them off. I will never wear it – never – I don’t care what Aunt Flavia says.’‘
‘Och my Lady it couldna do that. Now for your dress.’
Smoothing down the white muslin embroidered with white silk roses, Muriall frowned, ‘Why does it all have to be white or pink? It is so insipid. Give me crimson anytime.’
‘But that colour is for the older women milady, not for a wean like yerself.’
‘Wean? I’m nineteen not nine Becky.’
Smiling together now, Muriall posed in front of the long mirror stand, the white dress did become her pale porcelain skin. The flimsy lace sleeves showed off the sloping shoulders, whilst the design of the dress with the material caught up underneath the bosom, accentuated the plump swell of her full breasts.
Muriall loved the way Becky brushed her hair, with long firm strokes until it shone like burnished copper. ‘What do you think for the centre parting – tis the new fashion.’ ‘
‘With your curls ma’m, ye have no need to curling tongs. It would be such a shame to singe these locks.’’
‘Well I don’t like the centre parting. I shall wear it so that the curls fall naturally.’
As Becky lifted the jar of face cream Muriall grimaced. ‘I refuse to put that disgusting stuff on my skin, white lead and beeswax? I would look like a painted doll especially with the kohl and beetroot stains on my cheeks.’
‘Och I agree with ye. Nevertheless, maybe just a light dusting of powder would give your skin a velvety texture milady?
‘Now Becky to serious matters. The cart will be ready after the meeting tonight, so you will accompany us. First, we visit our own tenants, the Earl has raised the rents once again and the poor people starve. Then we must scour the roads for the tenants evicted on the Baron Fodenberry’s estate last night. And you must look for your family. I hear more are to be forced out but pray God it is not tonight. Hopefully, we can delay or even stop the evictions on our estate. So it is ten o’clock at the Orangery.’
The maid closed the door gently behind her, bustling away down the stone corridor passing Lord Maximillian just returning from the stables. A slight smile flickered across his handsome face. So, she would be alone. Perfect.
Not even bothering to knock he turned the brass handle pushing the door open. Closing it firmly behind him, he turned the key. His eyes dwelt on the waist length hair incandescent in the candlelight. Muriall turn round sharply, her hairbrush in her hand.
‘What? How dare you enter a lady’s chamber without permission. Get out now.’
Smirking he put a finger to his lips as if to hush her. As she went to rise, he caught a handful of her hair raising it to his nose, sniffed ‘Ah lavender and rosemary. Tis as beautiful as you milady.’
Smacking his hand sharply with the hairbrush she stood wincing as he pulled more sharply on her hair. ‘I am so enamoured after seeing your dalliance with my wimp of a brother yesterday.’
Between clenched teeth, she hissed ‘Get out now before I hurt you.’
‘Not before I have tasted your sweetness.’ He laughed softly, ‘I feel sure you can share your favours. It would not do for me to report your amorous cavorting to the Earl now – would it?’ Letting go her hair, he cupped her face with both hands, pulling her to hm. She wished she was wearing her usual boots, she could have stamped on his feet, but she had only the soft
‘Thank you my Lady, at least I shall sleep tonight now knowing you will protect them.’
‘I hope that with the help of the Duke and some of his associates we will be able to do more. Tonight will be a testing point.’ Picking up a triangular piece of steel, she said, ‘And as for this contrivance, it is medieval torture. How women wear it between their breasts I don’t know.’
‘It does uplift and separate the bosoms milady.’
‘Never – never. I’m sure if I fell it would cut them off. I will never wear it – never – I don’t care what Aunt Flavia says.’‘
‘Och my Lady it couldna do that. Now for your dress.’
Smoothing down the white muslin embroidered with white silk roses, Muriall frowned, ‘Why does it all have to be white or pink? It is so insipid. Give me crimson anytime.’
‘But that colour is for the older women milady, not for a wean like yerself.’
‘Wean? I’m nineteen not nine Becky.’
Smiling together now, Muriall posed in front of the long mirror stand, the white dress did become her pale porcelain skin. The flimsy lace sleeves showed off the sloping shoulders, whilst the design of the dress with the material caught up underneath the bosom, accentuated the plump swell of her full breasts.
Muriall loved the way Becky brushed her hair, with long firm strokes until it shone like burnished copper. ‘What do you think for the centre parting – tis the new fashion.’ ‘
‘With your curls ma’m, ye have no need to curling tongs. It would be such a shame to singe these locks.’’
‘Well I don’t like the centre parting. I shall wear it so that the curls fall naturally.’
As Becky lifted the jar of face cream Muriall grimaced. ‘I refuse to put that disgusting stuff on my skin, white lead and beeswax? I would look like a painted doll especially with the kohl and beetroot stains on my cheeks.’
‘Och I agree with ye. Nevertheless, maybe just a light dusting of powder would give your skin a velvety texture milady?
‘Now Becky to serious matters. The cart will be ready after the meeting tonight, so you will accompany us. First, we visit our own tenants, the Earl has raised the rents once again and the poor people starve. Then we must scour the roads for the tenants evicted on the Baron Fodenberry’s estate last night. And you must look for your family. I hear more are to be forced out but pray God it is not tonight. Hopefully, we can delay or even stop the evictions on our estate. So it is ten o’clock at the Orangery.’
The maid closed the door gently behind her, bustling away down the stone corridor passing Lord Maximillian just returning from the stables. A slight smile flickered across his handsome face. So, she would be alone. Perfect.
Not even bothering to knock he turned the brass handle pushing the door open. Closing it firmly behind him, he turned the key. His eyes dwelt on the waist length hair incandescent in the candlelight. Muriall turn round sharply, her hairbrush in her hand.
‘What? How dare you enter a lady’s chamber without permission. Get out now.’
Smirking he put a finger to his lips as if to hush her. As she went to rise, he caught a handful of her hair raising it to his nose, sniffed ‘Ah lavender and rosemary. Tis as beautiful as you milady.’
Smacking his hand sharply with the hairbrush she stood wincing as he pulled more sharply on her hair. ‘I am so enamoured after seeing your dalliance with my wimp of a brother yesterday.’
Between clenched teeth, she hissed ‘Get out now before I hurt you.’
‘Not before I have tasted your sweetness.’ He laughed softly, ‘I feel sure you can share your favours. It would not do for me to report your amorous cavorting to the Earl now – would it?’ Letting go her hair, he cupped her face with both hands, pulling her to hm. She wished she was wearing her usual boots, she could have stamped on his feet, but she had only the soft
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