The Heather and the Pine

August 13th, 185~ (around dawn)

The day was still young indeed when a light tapping disturbed my doze. I fancied I had dreamed it, but as I sat up and listened hard, it came again from the front door. Peeping between the curtains, I could see a brown horse tethered outside, and to my shame I was more glad than is proper to recognise the beast as Miss Charlotte's. I left the young master fast asleep and hurried down the corridor to slip back the bolts as quietly as I could.

Miss Charlotte smiled broadly as she stepped in quietly and let me move past her to shut the door. Our fingers brushed as she handed me her cap and gloves to put away. Then she leant in and once again I smelled her subtle fragrance. "Good morning, Martha." Her soft voice caressed my hair and cheek. "I am sorry it is so early." Her eyes moved over my loose hair and the casual lie of my dress and my bare feet. "Did I wake you, sweet lassie?"

"Oh no, miss." We were whispering in the hallway, but I know not whether because we were standing so close together, or in order to keep doing so. "I was sitting with the young master." I yawned. "It Is very early still. I'm sorry, miss. I fear I am the only one awake."

She smiled and touched my arm for a moment. "No matter, it is my fault. I have business elsewhere today, so I thought I should call on my way." She moved her hand onto my hip and drew me closer, putting her mouth very close to my ear. For an instant, we were so wonderfully close and I hoped she would not feel me tremble. Her aquiline nose pushed my hair aside and I felt her breathe in deeply. "I shall go and see our wee laddie. Will you bring hot water, Martha?"

I could only whisper. "Yes, miss. As you wish."

Ashamed at my unsuitable appearance, I at least managed to plait my hair loosely and messily around my head as the kettle boiled over the hastily rekindled fire in the kitchen range. I almost broke the water jug, my hands were trembling so, as I returned to the young master's room. Miss Charlotte was fussing quietly and efficiently over the boy, but I could sense she was less worried than before. I put the tray down carefully and asked, "Will there be anything else, miss?"

"Has he been like this long?"

I bobbed a quick curtsey, even as I felt more comfortable than I should in the intimacy of whispering together and knowing we were the only two people awake. "Since the early hours, miss. He's been most peaceful."

She nodded. "He's sleeping off the fever." She looked over at me and blinked. For a moment, she looked at me too long and with much more interest than a mere maid would normally occasion. "You've put your hair up."

"Yes, miss. I'm sorry I am not suitably..."

"Tschh." She waved a hand. "You have beautiful hair, Martha. It is nice to see it, not hidden under that ugly kitchenmaid's cap." She continued looking at me.

"Thank you, miss." I was so confused and tired, I scarcely knew what I was saying. "It is not nearly so beautiful as yours."

She flinched backwards, and I knew I had said a very wicked thing. But she smiled slightly, as if uncertain, and touched her bun quickly. She blinked again. "You are very generous, Martha."

I knew I had been graciously let off a great mistake. Blushing, I bobbed another curtsey. "Yes, miss."

~

After she had satisfied herself that the boy was comfortable, she followed me into the kitchen. She stood near the large sink as I made tea, and suddenly her hand was on my shoulder, stilling me. Her eyes ran down me. "Martha. Your feet are bare, they must be cold." I shrugged and she tutted. "Foolish wee girl." She moved away and picked up one of the wooden chairs, dragging it close to the range. "Sit down."

I would have argued, but her look and manner made it impossible. She sat me on the chair and knelt in front of me, pulling my feet up to rest on her lap, where she began to rub them gently. Her legs were distinctly warm though her hard-wearing trousers, and her fingers were both firm and soft as she stroked my feet.

It is a curious sensation to have another person rub one's feet. Curious and quite wonderful! I could not stop myself from gasping loudly as Miss Charlotte's confident hands stroked and rubbed and kneaded, and shocks of pleasure shot through me.

"You are on your feet a lot?" she asked softly, concentrating on one foot. The other she let lie in her lap.

"Of course, miss." I could only whisper, and that with difficulty. My breath would not come properly. "All day." I leant back in the chair and buried my fingers in my hair. "Oh, miss..." I felt I had to hold on to something, my head was dizzy. I had nothing to hold, so I dug my fingers into my hair and gripped the plait tightly.

Miss Charlotte turned her attention to my other foot. The one she had already massaged felt as if it throbbed and tingled where it lay on her legs. Without thinking, I wriggled my toes in pleasure at feeling it so alive again. It was only when she let out a light gasp that I was aware of where my foot was touching her, hard in her lap right between her legs. Yet I was helpless to remove it, as it was trapped there under her arm. She cleared her throat, but even then her voice was low and hoarse. "You should be kind to your feet, girl."

In time, she stopped and rested my feet in her lap, covering them with her hands for a moment. I fancied she pressed them against herself, but I could not be sure. The massage of my feet had set the blood to course all through me much more vigorously, and my whole body felt immensely alive and sensitive, for the first time in a good long time. I sat up a little in the chair and opened my eyes to look at her and found she was staring at me, and I blushed. I know I will have been flushed in any case, from the improvement in circulation that her ministrations had wrought in me, but there was a flicker of something in her gaze that made me blush for altogether different reasons. "Miss?"

"Do your feet feel better now, Martha?" She slid them slowly off her lap, back onto the floor. One of her fingers trailed gently across the top, and for a moment slid under the hem of my dress to touch my ankle. Her cheeks were pinked slightly and her strange, beautiful eyes were wide and bright.

I could still only whisper. "Oh yes, miss. Thank you." For an instant we stayed still, me sat upon the chair, staring down at her kneeling in front of me staring up into my face.

She nodded and broke the hold of our gaze. "Good. As I say, have a care for them in future." She pushed herself to her feet, resting a hand lightly on my knee for balance as she stood. Her hand was warm through my dress and the material shifted a little across my legs. In my sensitive state, the sensation of it moving over my skin sent shivers up my back, which was a very agreeable sensation.

As before on my foot, her finger trailed more slowly than necessary off my knee and I was most aware that minutes before it had been working miracles on my tired feet, soft and warm and confident on my skin. I was unable to stop myself wondering what her fingers should feel like elsewhere on my skin, my body. I felt more agreeable shivers of anticipation.

She held a hand out, and I let go of my hair and took it, allowing her to help me out of the chair. For an instant, we were standing too close and her hand squeezed mine. All of a sudden, I was unable to meet her eye. She sighed. "I will check on the boy once more quickly. Then I must be away."

Mutely, I followed her back into his room, where she satisfied herself that he was calm and sleeping, then I saw her out. On the step she turned and touched her finger to my cheek, pushing a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. She leant closer and her voice was low again. "I will come by tomorrow." She sighed lightly. "He seems to be mending, but I should like to come in any case."

"As you think best, miss."

Her finger traced a gentle line down my jaw. "And if he improves to the point where he no longer needs my help, I shall have to find a new excuse to keep calling, shan't I?"

I didn't dare ask her why, but, vainly, I could not help but glance at her face to see whether she meant something to do with me. I watched her eyes seeming to dance over my face lightly, as if she was committing it to memory. "Miss?"

She looked at me seriously. "Yes, Martha." Her voice dropped even lower. "I shall be forced to invent an excuse to call, merely in the hope of seeing the kitchen maid." Suddenly, she smiled and the beauty of it lit her face. "What a state of affairs, eh?"

Boldly, made reckless by her beauty so close to my face, I whispered, "I should always be very pleased to see you, miss." I bit my lip and hoped I had not said too much.

"Ah-huh. Is that so?" Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious. She looked at my lips for a long moment, until I stopped biting them. "I shall have to get inventing, then." She stepped back. "Now, go and put some shoes on, girl, for goodness' sake."