Arista glanced at the huge copper tub, the height of her waist, filled almost to the top with water. A thin vapor rested on the surface, and a neatly folded white square of cloth and a cake of soap sat on a small table.
“No, I’m not getting into that. It’s indecent!” Arista held the pitcher in front of her like a shield.
“Oh miss, it’s really not!” Becky said. “I had one in my room just yesterday and it was amazing. Just once, wouldn’t you like to know what it feels like? Not to wash with freezing water, and only the parts that show? Imagine being clean, smelling like lavender or roses. I could wash your hair for you, too.”
Arista had not seen Becky so excited, or so single-minded, since she had tried on her Lady A disguise and immediately demanded more frontal coverage. Well-bred ladies, though prudish in many areas, showed off ample amounts of skin when attending a party.
The last thing Arista wanted was to smell like lavender. It reminded her too much of the ladies she watched at the parties. The ones who wore their dresses indecently low to entice the men. No, she was more than happy to run a wet cloth rubbed with castor soap through her hair after that dreaded wig came off. Another swipe of it over her body and that was fine for her.
The idea of submerging her entire body in water just for the purpose of getting clean seemed unnecessary. The street men bathed in the Thames, and most of the children swam there when the heat got to be too much, but Arista never joined them.
Not out of modesty. Arista couldn’t swim. Water, even in this contained form, terrified her.
Though the tub only came up to her hip, it might as well have held the entire river. Arista swallowed and ran her fingers tentatively through the water, tiny currents trailing behind. She stared in fascination. The water rippled outward from her fingers, its effect hypnotizing.
She leaned over the side and watched her reflection break apart, then come together, only to break apart again. Even in the unstable water, she could see the black smudges on her face. It wouldn’t hurt to wash her arms in the tub. She took the soap and plunged her hands under the surface, lathering them until soft bubbles trickled down her forearms. The black soot washed away, revealing clean, pink skin. She pushed up the sleeves of the gauzy shift and scrubbed higher on her arms.
The soap felt decadent against her skin. The aroma wafted through the air, thick and sweet. She ducked her arms into the water, as far as she could from the odd angle where she was standing. Not entirely right, but not wrong either. Heat seeped through her skin and settled next to her bones. Amazing. Arista bit her lip. If Nic were here, he’d be taunting her, calling her a coward. “Becky, would you please check the lock?”
Becky adjusted the screen so it provided a barrier to the rest of the room, and then disappeared. Arista glanced once more at the bath and took a deep breath.
The buttons at her neck came undone easily, and the nightgown slipped off her shoulders. She held it tightly against her body and climbed onto the stool next to the tub. She let the nightgown fall and gripped the edge of the tub. First a toe, then an ankle, then a leg.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stepped in with the other leg. She stood still, arms crossed over her chest, as the water lapped gently at her thighs. She could wash like this and get clean enough, but what would it feel like to fully immerse herself in that warmth?
Very slowly, she sank down until she could sit. The water cocooned her body, and panic reared up. She grabbed the edge of the tub to get out before her heart exploded inside her chest.
“That’s it, miss, just give it a minute,” Becky said, coming around the corner. Arista sank back down so fast that water sloshed over the edge of the tub. Immediately the warmth of the water encompassed all of her at once. Heat soaked into her limbs, down to the bone, and Arista exhaled. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
Becky rolled her sleeves back and took the square cloth from the stand. She dipped it into the water and then scrubbed the cake of soap over it. The room filled with a thick, sweet fragrance that reminded Arista of the women at the masked balls, dancing by in their clouds of scented air.
“Lean forward, miss,” Becky said.
Arista followed the order as if she was looking down at herself from a distance. Becky scrubbed the slick cloth over Arista’s back and shoulders. When she tried to wash Arista’s arms, Arista refused to unwind them from her knees. Tiny ripples covered the water from where her limbs still trembled. Each time she shifted, the water moved and pulled her slightly off balance. What if she slipped under?
“How about I wash your hair first?” Becky gently guided Arista’s chin back and up, and then used the pitcher to slowly pour warm water over Arista’s head.