“You mean, you’ve been here since October and there is still a lot more for you to see of this house?”

“Oh yes, ma’am. Mr. Foxworth doesn’t like anyone wandering about the house. We do what we have to where we are sent, and that is that.”

I wondered if she had ever seen the Swan Room, but I didn’t ask. I started to get into the tub, conscious of the way she was looking at me when I disrobed.

“Oh, please be careful, ma’am,” she said, moving to help me sit in the water.

The water was a light-blue color and did have a delightful, fresh sweet scent. As soon as I sat, she moved quickly to begin washing my back with a soft washcloth. I turned and looked at her, her face so close. Except for those freckles, she had a complexion that definitely rivaled mine, and her lips, which were straight and full, had a natural orange-red tone. I admired her teeth as well, because they were so straight and white.

“You’ve taken good care of yourself, Dora,” I said.

“I had to,” she said. “I couldn’t get sick with my parents as they were.”

“I meant more than health,” I said. “Your beauty.”

“Oh. Thank you, ma’am, but I’ve done nothing special.”

I studied her a moment, my suspicions triggered by how carefully she touched me and how concerned she was.

“You know about me, right, Dora? You know about my current state?”

She was silent. According to Garland, all the servants knew about me, so I assumed she did, but she had also obviously been told to keep it so buried in her mind that it was as if it wasn’t true. That was fine for now, I thought. Servants gossiped, and the gossip could leak out and find its way to my mother’s ears during these two days.

I closed my eyes and let her massage my neck and shoulders. She ran the washcloth gently over my shoulders and down my arms. When she reached around and glided them over my breasts, I was a little shocked, but she continued as if she was washing the tub and not me in it. I lay back so she could go farther down my stomach, and then she came around and gently lifted each of my legs separately to softly scrub over my calves and thighs. I looked at her face as she washed my body. She wore a soft, simple smile, as if she was washing the body of an infant, a baby, but I didn’t complain. This, I thought, was a life I might very well enjoy, the life filled with pampering and comfort.