<cw> Just in case - there's a lot.

She had a friend in the maid, for the bottle had been collected and tucked out of sight from any who might enter. It was she who entered next, laying out a rather beautiful gown that suited her coloring. It was a lovely day gown in a shade of chocolate that was rich in color and texture. It was brand new and ready to be altered to fit her. The note that was settled on a tray of breakfast, along with an envelope filled with probably more bank notes than she had ever touched at one time.

My Dear Ruth,

Please accept this gift of a gown. The seamstress had one ready and the maid will fit it to you if it is your wish to keep it. I will await you in the foyer in two hours. I wish to take you to get whatever your heart desires and show you the place I am providing you for a home. Please eat and rest for now.

I realize we got off on the wrong foot and you need to see for yourself the future I am offering to you still with hopes that you have forgiven me for being the windbag I am. You're right... I need to do better. I hope this brings you comfort.

Your Servant,
Magnus

The storm had passed. Rays of sunlight shone through the wet window and created a mirage of diamonds on the floor. Birds sang outside. The fire had died, as had the trapped fly in the window. Ruth awoke, sore and stiff, head heavy, and temporarily disoriented.

Then last night came back to her. The excitement, the disgust, the pleasure, the horror, and finally the hurt. The dismissive wave of Magnus’ hand.

But her eyes fell on the tray with breakfast and the envelope. She sat up with a burst of hope. Her feet touched the floor. She reached for the envelope. A groan escaped her lips as she moved, for her body hurt from sleeping in an unnatural position. She also felt dehydrated. Her hand reached for the glass of water first and drank she it in one go. Then she took the envelope and opened it.

A gasp. She had never held this much money. Could this really be for her? Had he forgiven her? Or was he paying her all this for the night, sending her off. Either way, it sweetened last night’s blow. She pulled out the letter and read as quickly as she could. Not reading much however, she still had to go over it a second time, slowly, to make sure she understood.

Her heart leaped for joy. She could feel it beating fast in her chest. A grateful smile crossed her face. She could almost cry again then and there. His words were so kind, so apologetic, so respectful. And he wanted to give her so much. More than the money. She looked around for the dress. It was laid out on the bed. Chocolate brown. Not a colour she would choose. But what did she care, if he wanted her after all? He wanted to take her out to buy more things too. He wanted to show her the home. He wanted to make up to her. She had been upset over nothing. All was well between them. It no longer mattered he was old and ugly. She loved him.

She got up and walked over to the bed. Her fingers ran over the fabric of the dress. Though she didn’t like the colour, the fabric felt undeniably delightful. Could it be silk? She wouldn’t know. All she knew was that she had never touched such a fine material before. The model was modern too, not like the dress she had come in. It was more modest too, a day gown, suitable to go out in. She had seen rich ladies who visited Whitby in the summer wear dresses like these.

Ruth wanted to try it on right away, but her bladder troubled her and so she went to the washroom first and relieved herself. She flushed the toilet twice, just to watch the water go. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a flushing toilet, but she had never had time to really marvel at one. Would her home have one of these?

She turned to the sink, opened the tap and watched the water run. She washed her face. There was a tap in the yard outside the home she had grown up in, but she had never had indoor plumbing before. She hoped her home would at least have a bathroom with a tap and sink.

“Fuck,” she suddenly muttered under her breath. She crouched down, put her fingers into her ladies part, and after some fumbling, pulled out a pessary. A ‘womb veil’ some girls at the Pony called it. Ruth had gotten one as soon as they had told her about it.

Oh… Should she have cleaned down there first? She opened the tap, ran her hand under it and cleaned herself as well as she could. As for the pessary, there was no chance to clean it properly, and she didn’t want to leave it out. For all she knew Magnus would want her again later in the day. She rinsed it under the tap, then inserted it again. It felt cold and uncomfortable, but the sensation soon disappeared.

When she entered the room again, she entirely forgot about the nuisance, for her excitement over the dress distracted her. She quickly picked her undergarments and corset off of the floor and put them on. Then she put on the gown. She moved over to the mirror and admired her own reflection. The garment was a little too wide around her upper body, though she was able to lace it a little tighter. The maid would have to help her with the rest.

It didn’t matter. It was beautiful. She felt beautiful. And surely Magnus would be pleased with what he saw. Ruth beamed at her own reflection. The colour, too, looked better on her than she had expected. What was this wonderful dream she had landed in. When the door opened Ruth turned her head and offered the maid a radiant smile. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

The maid gave a shy smile and nodded, "Beggin yer pardon, miss, but would ye like fer me to dress yer hair? Mister Carrington has assigned me as yer maid while ye are here. I could have prepared a bath too if ye liked." To be honest, Matilda felt uncomfortable about this whole situation, though it wasn't because she disapproved of the way he was conducting himself, it was that she had somehow become a target as one of many just like this woman who now admired her reflection as she took in the way the gown looked on her. Thank goodness he averted his attention. She really was lovely, "The brown brings out the notes of brown in ye're eyes, Miss," she complimented honestly, "And it works well with yer hair." The fact that Tilly was no longer Pearl's maid is what upset her, for she had been so protective of the girl and softened as much as she could have when charged with the young miss. "Me name is Matilda, but I like ta be called Tilly, iffin ye pleased?" The young woman was a friendly sort, though shy as well.

A maid to do her hair. To draw her a bath. To compliment her dress. It was all a fairy tale too good to be true. And yet here she was. The tears of last night were forgotten, but not the maid’s kind gesture. “Thank you, Tilly. I’m Ruth.” She gave the maid a shy smile. She had dreamed of servants, but now that she had one, she didn’t actually know how to interact with her and not feel awkward. “Will there be time for a bath? The dress will need to be taken in a little here, on both sides…” she showed the maid.

Tilly warmed up fairly quick to Ruth, and her brows lifted as she said the next bit of information that might delight her new mistress. "Ye could take a bath and still have time, or ye can bathe standing, which is quicker than a bath." Then she opened the bathroom door and moved the curtain aside. "And there are different scented soaps ta choose from, this is yer room if ye choose ta stay here." She then stepped aside. "I could get it warmed up fer ye if ye wish, Ma'am."

"Ye mean at t' wash stand?" The maid's local accent drew Ruth back into her own. She followed Tilly into the bathroom and looked at the tub mesmerized when the maid pulled the curtain away. It had taps as well. No carrying buckets of water for the servants. It was the stuff of dreams. Scented soap too? She'd fuck any man for this life of luxury. "No, I'll have a bath. I won't need a fire lit... Unless ye're cold?"

Tilly smiled at Ruth, knowing that she could at least find a friend in her. Perhaps she could get her to make friends with Pearl even though the situation was strange. She knew the master had his demons, but Ruth was so young and the fact that Magnus couldn't do better wasn't her fault. His actions did not warrant the hate she would soon be facing by the people in the household. She was grateful he turned his eye on someone else, but not a young vulnerable woman. The maids were all secretly rejoicing that his eyes had turned from them to someone else, but they all agreed he should be trying to woo his wife and make things right between them, for maybe Anne would be less hostile if he had been faithful to her. "I am fine, thank ye, Miss Ruth." She then moved to plug up the tub with the stopper, and then turned the spigots to fill the tub with hot water, but not too hot. "Which scent do ye like best?" she asked, lifting the tray to offer the dozens of bars. Magnus hadn't known her preferences so he provided plenty to choose from, from flowery to spicy.

Miss Ruth... Who had ever called her Miss Ruth? If people liked her, they called her by her name. Just that. As for the others, well, she had been called many things in her life, and her own fast tongue could hurl back an insult or two before she even had time to feel the sting.

But everything was lovely here. She watched the maid fill the tub with water right from the wall. Little goosebumps of delight spread over her arms in anticipation of the warm water. When the maid held out the tray, her eyes turned from the soap to the face of the young woman as if to gauge whether she was serious. Of course she was. Ruth mentally scolded herself. She shouldn't act like this was all new to her. She was supposed to act like this was her own world.

Ruth turned her attention back to the soap. She took several and smelled them. Then when she held an orange and yellow bar under her nose, she smiled. "I'll use this one," she said. It was a warm smell, the sweet fragrance of orange, mixed with hints of cinnamon, perhaps pepper, and spices she didn't know. She placed it on the side of the tub. Then she moved back into the bedroom and began unlacing the dress. "How long have you been here?" she called back to the maid.

She gave a wan smile as her new mistress took the soaps and checked them out. As Matilda moved to get the towels from the nearby closet, she heard the question asked of her. First, she set them down and then came out. "Here, let me help ye," she said softly, moving to help with Ruth's clothing so it could be taken in while the other woman was able to bathe. There wasn't much to do to it, thankfully, other than make a few adjustments with a needle and thread, it'd take her twenty or so minutes, perhaps, to do so, though hemming it would have to be saved for another day if it was needed. "Since I was five, mayhaps?" she finally said when she had thought about it.

Ruth tensed a little when the woman came over to help, but she let her. Men had undressed her, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough, but she had no recollection of a woman ever helping her undress. Even as a child, she thought, she had to have done it alone, for she certainly had no memory of her mother ever helping her. "Five?" she asked, unlacing her corset. "I didn't know children were allowed to work that young. I -," She shut up. The maid didn't need to know that Ruth herself had worked as a maid.