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Nellis
exclaimed, wringing her hands while giving a silent prayer that
heavenly lightning was not about to strike them down where they
stood. “I believe that bump on your head has served to sadly
rearrange your senses. Drat this terrible weather! Oh, why did it
have to begin snowing all over again this morning? Clearly you need
the services of a doctor as soon as possible. You may even need to
be bled.”
    “If you think to have some silly old man lay
leeches on my body, Aunt, I pray it may snow forever,” Christine
countered belligerently.
    Lazarus entered, carrying two pails of
steaming water that he ceremoniously poured into the large enameled
tub that stood in front of the fireplace. Four extremely curious
male servants, all carrying a brace of buckets across their
shoulders, followed him in, and soon the tub was full nearly to the
brim. The men lingered once their job was completed, to stand
staring at Christine with slackened jaws—at which point Aunt Nellis
pointed a finger toward the door and ordered succinctly:
“ Out !”
    Christine was already loosening the sash of
her dressing gown. “Weren’t they cute? You told me this was an
entirely male household, but until now I didn’t believe you. They
acted as if they have never seen a female in her dressing gown
before this. You may lock the door after you, Aunt, if it makes you
feel better,” she said, looking about her for the jar of
violet-scented bath salts that Lazarus had delivered to the room
earlier.
    “But... but...” her aunt stammered
nervously, not wishing to leave her niece alone in this masculine
bedroom, no matter how deserted it appeared to be at the moment.
“You may need me.”
    Christine sighed, impatient to be in the
warm water. “There are several towels warming before the fire, a
pitcher of rinse water for my hair has been placed on an easily
reached stool, a clean gown awaits me on that chair over there, and
I am fully capable of washing myself—even behind my ears. Please,
Aunt, allow me some privacy. I have been bathing alone since I was
ten years old.”
    “You could become faint as an aftermath of
your injury and slip beneath the water. Christine, you could
drown!” Aunt Nellis ventured, her expression changing rapidly from
concerned to horrified. “I’d come back in here and find your hair
floating atop the water, your eyes open, staring up at the
ceiling!”
    Christine looked up at the elaborate stucco
ceiling. “At least I’d have a lovely view,” she said teasingly.
“Dearest aunt, I don’t intend to drown. I promise,” Christine added
solemnly, all the while liberally sprinkling bath salts in the
heated water and then swirling her hand about to raise up mounds of
scented bubbles.
    But her aunt wasn’t finished. Her agile mind
had already conjured up another possible calamity. “There could be
a secret passageway in here. There often are such things in these
old houses, you know. Anyone—even the earl himself—could sneak in
here while you’re nak—defenseless, and force himself on you.”
    Christine straightened and began tying up
her hair with a pink ribbon. “The earl has not even seen fit to
share his dinner table with us. I doubt that he would wish to share
my bath. Now, please, Aunt Nellis, go away. The tub will soon grow
cold and I shall have to call those dear servants back with fresh
hot water.”
    That consideration was at last enough to
roust Nellis Denham from the chamber.

    Fifteen minutes later, her clean, wet hair
tightly wrapped inside a small towel twisted into a turban, the
surface of the bath now covered by a thick layer of bubbles, a
clean and thoroughly refreshed Christine carefully leaned her still
tender head against the high curved rim of the enamel tub and
allowed her limbs to go limp.
    This was heaven on earth, she decided
dreamily, closing her eyes and allowing the soothing sensation the
warm water created to lift her mind away from her troubles so she
could float on a higher,