Someone had pulled her from the water and saved her life, yes, but they had also stripped her of her clothes and undergarments, washed her, dressed her, and put her to bed, all while she was unconscious and unable to defend herself. She felt vulnerable and exposed. The drumming in her ears started up again, only so much louder this time.

Lily threw herself off the bed, goosebumps raised on her arms, her stomach churning. The coolness of the air was a welcome sensation after the stifling press of the blankets, and the weight of the realisations that were threatening to crush her. The comfortable warmth of the bed felt unclean, and she knew she needed to find clothing as soon as possible. The familiar material of her dress and her belongings, at least, would be a small comfort.

Underneath the window there was a wooden rocking chair with a pile of clothes laid out on it. Her heart sank as she realised her own things were nowhere to be seen. She glanced at the door and then pulled the nightgown up over her head, grabbed the first garment on the pile of clothes – a linen shirt – and wriggled into it. Her muscles cried with every stretch and in her half-nakedness, she caught sight of the black, blue, purple, and green flecks that covered most of her body.

Lily then picked up a heavy skirt and was just about to climb into it when she realised with abject horror that it wasn’t a skirt at all. It was a pair of trousers. Frowning, she grabbed at the dresser drawer and yanked it open, presuming there must have been a mistake. The dresser was empty. If she wanted to go and find out where she was and who had taken her, she was going to have to swallow her vanity and … wear trousers.

Grimacing, Lily pulled them on. To her surprise, although her legs were short and stocky, they were not lost in the fabric. In fact, they fit her perfectly. The trousers fastened with an ivory button around her waist, leaving her more than enough room to breathe. They could’ve been made for her. And on the plus side, she reminded herself, she may be in trousers, but at least there were no corsets to be seen. Underneath where the trousers had sat on the wicker chair, there was a brown leather belt with a weighty bronze buckle that matched her favourite boots perfectly. She fastened this around the waistband of the thick trousers, which were a dark brown colour and made from a sturdy flecked wool, and tucked in the shirt.

The last item on the chair was a soft, crocheted cowl which she wrapped around her shoulders, crossed over her chest and fastened into a knot behind her back. She took another deep breath, her throat still throbbing, and looked at herself in the tall mirror that stood by the side of the bed. Lily gasped. She still looked like herself, with her mane of unruly curls, but she had regained the colour in her cheeks that had been drained from the relentless travel.