Sat, May 19 2012
| TITLE: | Rebecca Gets Her Bath |
|---|---|
| AUTHOR: | Sherry Thornburg |
| CATEGORY/TYPE: | Jammie Workshop |
| RATING/WARNINGS: | PG, Gen |
| MAIN CHARACTERS: | Rebecca Fogg |
| DESCRIPTION: | Jammie Workshop Entry |
| STATUS: | Complete |
In her room, Rebecca set up her bath things on the side of the bed near where the tub was normally put. She laid out her morning dress for the new day and all the many under things required. She opted for petticoats instead of hoops. Walking about the narrow confines of the Aurora in hoops was impractical and inconvenient for herself and everyone else.
A knock on the door came as she laid the dress over all the linens. Rebecca wasn’t embarrassed by any of it, but Phileas quite likely would be. Such a silly prude he could be at times for a man with the reputation of a discrete libertine.
Rebecca opened the door for her cousin, who pushed in the now empty hip tub and set it in place near the bed.
Phileas was now dressed somewhat more than he had been before. He had shirt, trousers and shoes on with the robe now. There was no cravat at the neck yet, but Rebecca was sure there would be before breakfast.
Phileas locked the wheels down then pulled the towels off his arm handing them to her with a formal bow and a smile. She smiled too, stifling a giggle working its way up her throat at his impersonation of a ladies maid. But Phileas wasn’t through. He filled the tub with Passepartout’s hose then said,
“Help with your hair Miss Fogg?”
‘Lord he hadn’t done that for her in ages.’ Not since that mission in Italy they had gone on together when she had misjudged a jump and been covered in grape mash. That had been a sticky mess! Her hair had been much longer then and had required extra help cleaning. These days she kept it hip length. The help wasn’t as necessary, but if he was offering who was she to refuse.
“By all means, Please.”
With a smile and a nod to acknowledge the beginning of his self appointed penance, Phileas set a stool from her dressing table by the tub. Rebecca sat down on it obligingly facing away from the water.
After she was seated, her cousin lifted her hair up and into the water. Rebecca leaned back following her hair, bracing her neck and shoulders against the highest side of the tub for support. Her temporary lady’s maid recognized this as an awkward position and laid one of the towels on the lip to cushion her neck.
Once Rebecca was settled, Phileas took her room’s pitcher and carefully wet down the whole length of her copper tresses. Taking the shampoo she had set out, he soaped her head, rubbing gently to get the foam down to the scalp. In the process Phileas found several fair sized lumps at the back of his cousin’s head. ‘From her fight,’ he told himself. ‘The fight to free you from your own foolishness.’ Phileas very gently worked that portion, and then took to the rest of it in sections soaping and working the foam in.
Once the whole of it had been well soaped, he took the pitcher again and rinsed it out. Again he worked from the scalp down a little at a time making sure there was no soap in the section he was rinsing before going on to the ends.
The washing complete, Phileas then took up the bottle of red wine vinegar she used for a rinse. Phileas didn’t quite understand how it worked, but it was supposed to keep her hair glossy and in good color.
‘The stuff must work,’ he thought, ‘because her hair was ever a burst of bright fire.’
For this procedure he had to bundle Rebecca’s hair up and put the ends into her washbowl, which he moved with its stand behind her, after moving the tub out of the way. Phileas poured the red liquid onto her hair little by little making sure it drenched every strand. Then he had to rinse that out with water holding lengths of her wet red tresses up as he poured water into them. The excess dripped down the length into the bowl. He had to empty the bowl into a bucket several times before it was all done.
Privately, Phileas wondered how on earth Rebecca did this herself.
Once done with the rinse, he took up a towel and gently massaged the silky wet strands from her head to the tips until the majority of the water was gone. Now with it nearly dry, he took up Rebecca’s large toothed comb. Starting at the ends he combed out one small section at a time until reaching her head again.
This was supposed to be penance, but Fogg was actually enjoying the process, at least this part of it. Phileas had always admired Rebecca’s hair, even when she had been a small girl. Wet or dry it always looked silky and smooth. He set the larger comb down then took up a finer one to continue with. He fingered through the strands and held them carefully so as not to pull at her tender injuries.
Rebecca was enjoying the process too. Having her hair washed and combed or brushed by another was a special treat and she was loath to end it. Yet, even good things like this must come to an end if she was to finish her bath before breakfast. Rebecca turned in the stool to face him. “Thank you Phileas, that was very good of you.”
The words were his dismissal, so he gave up the comb reluctantly, but with good grace. “I will come for you in…” He checked her clock on the dresser, “forty minutes,” then left the room paying her further a kiss to the temple.
Once Phileas was gone, Rebecca wound her hair up on ivory sticks then secured it up for her bath. She then picked up her oil bottle. Rebecca poured out the scented oil she loved in a circle then stirred it into the steamy water with her hand. The combination of lavender and roses reminded her of spring in the country. She took a long deep breath, holding it in, enjoying the scent and flavor of it.
Undoing her sash and buttons, Rebecca let the dressing gown fall off her shoulders then tossed it on the bedpost. The collar and back were damp from her hair washing. She would have to hang it properly to dry later. Under that had only been her skin. Rebecca lightly stepped into the tub remembering to check the wheel lock first. Once in, she sat down in the water with her knees bent up.
The water was still quite warm. Coming straight from the airships water heater, it was always too hot for her. Phileas may like boiling himself, but she didn’t. The process of washing her hair usually took enough time to let the water cool to a comfortable temperature.
Rebecca soaked for a few minutes before taking up soap. The feel of the warm water on her bruised body was just the thing. She slouched folding herself down until the water covered her to the chin. She had not let on to Phileas, but her head was still quite sore from the pounding she had received earlier. He had been very gentle, but touching those spots had still smarted.
Reaching out for a moment, she caught the towel he had used as a cushion earlier making a pillow of it for her head against the high side of the tub. Rebecca then allowed herself ten minutes to soak before going on with the rest.
Soaping her hands with the cake that held the same scent as her oils, Rebecca gently applied the lather to her face with her fingertips giving it a good massage, eyes closed. After rinsing her face with splashes of warm water,
Rebecca carefully rubbed soap into her soft sea sponge and washed over the discolored spots on her arms, shoulders and upper back. From there she sent the sponge into the depths of the water rubbing down her chest and stomach.
When sitting up, the water covered her breasts half way. Pulling on the edges of the tub, she lifted herself to her knees in the water. Now the waterline lapped at her stomach. Again she sent the sponge into the water to get at her hips, backside and lower back, then sat down again and stretched out one leg after another to wash. She bent her legs back and up one after the other to give special attention to her feet. Rebecca soaped them up with the sponge, holding them up near her face to wash them slowly. It was quite relaxing massaging her feet with the sponge.
So relaxing… and… soothing.
When each of her feet had had all the attention they could stand, Rebecca let them back into the water. At this point she needed to get out and dry off. She really should get dressed for breakfast...
‘No… just a few minutes more. Maybe I will stay in here and skip breakfast. The men didn’t need me.’ She was quite bruised and needed her rest after all. Yes, she would do that. Get into her warm cream-colored thick soft flannel gown… the comfortable one she saved for after hard days.
‘When Phileas comes back I will call to him and…’
Rebecca came out of the water like Aphrodite from the sea. ‘No, I’m not going to miss Phileas’ groveling apology to Passepartout and Jules after being such a monster to the them, especially Passepartout, the poor man. The cream flannel could wait that long.’
Rebecca grabbed up a towel and dried herself quickly before the chill of the room undid the work of the warm water. She then uncovered her underclothes and methodically dressed from bloomers out to her morning dress. She was done with the buttons just as Phileas knocked at the door, on the dot on time as usual.
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