In the bathroom, Fitzroy opened the taps and the cast iron tub began to fill with hot and cold water. My father's house didn't have indoor plumbing, and the ease with which the bath was drawn amazed me. I dipped my hand in and suppressed a smile. The water felt wonderfully warm.

Seth arrived with the salve, then Gus brought in a bag of salt and a bottle of kerosene. He added the entire bag to the bathtub as Seth poured the kerosene into the washbasin and added some water. He pulled a comb out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the washstand.

Fitzroy ushered them out. "You will not be disturbed. A guard will remain outside and that window needs a key to unlock it. We are also two floors up with no means of climbing down. There is no escape." With his unspoken warning hanging in the air, he left.

I slid the lock home and stared at the door, half expecting someone to bang on it and order me to open up. Nobody did. Seth and Gus's voices rumbled in conversation as they quietly discussed Gillingham's behavior and Fitzroy's cold ire. I understood that to mean Fitzroy had left.

I washed the hair on my head and nether regions first. The diluted kerosene burned my skin, but I knew it ought to kill any of the crawlies. I didn't rush combing my hair, even though I wanted to climb into the bath. My mother had told me the lice would return if the eggs weren't completely removed. It wasn't easy to de-louse my own hair, even with the mirror, but I was as thorough as possible. I tried not to think about being around lice-infested bedding and children again after I escaped Lichfield. At least I would be itch-free for a few days.

Finally I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the bath. The salt bit into the cuts, but the thought of being clean again was so alluring that I bore down on the pain and plunged in. I gasped as my body burned. It felt like thousands of pins were being stabbed into the cuts. The urge to leap out of the bath was overwhelming, but I resisted. The salt would heal me faster, and I needed to be healed for when I returned to the filthy, germ infested streets.

After a long few minutes, the agony subsided until my cuts merely stung. I embraced it, welcoming the salt into my skin, and closed my eyes. For a long time I simply soaked. My earlier wash in the tower bedroom had taken much of the filth off, but immersing myself in the bath seemed more thorough. I could feel years of dirt leaching out of me. I used the exotic smelling soap on my skin and hair until the odor of salt and kerosene no longer filled my nostrils, and then I washed myself again with it.

Earlier, I'd thought bathing would make me too comfortable at Lichfield Towers, but now I wished I hadn't resisted. Surely one bath and a little food didn't mean I would give up my secrets. There was no reason I couldn't enjoy the comforts until I found a way to escape.