Merry waited until Una had closed the door on the last one before giving in to her curiosity and asking, "Who ordered the bath?"
"Yer husband was the first to order it," Una answered as she turned back from the door.
Merry's eyebrows rose slightly at the maid's grim voice and expression, but she merely asked, "The first?"
"Aye, he asked me in the hall outside the room when he came out. He said to let ye sleep and fetch ye a bath when ye woke. And then Lady Edda stopped me at the bottom of the stairs and suggested ye may want one when ye woke. She was followed by yer father, who approached me when I sat down to break me fast and made the same suggestion, and then finally Brodie came to me as I headed above stairs to check on ye some time ago and suggested it as well."
Merry's eyes were wide by the time the woman finished. It seemed everyone had thought she'd need to bathe this morning. She had no idea why. All she'd done was sleep since her last bath.
"I had no idea why everyone was so all-fired certain ye'd need a bath," Una said, echoing her thoughts. "Until I saw the linen hanging from the stair railing."
Merry gave a slight start at the hardness that had entered the maid's voice. She now noted the pity filling her face and bit her lip with worry as she wondered if she had not put enough blood on the cloth. "What is wrong with the linen?"
"What is wrong with it?" the maid gasped. "Why, 'tis covered in blood."
Merry waved that away with unconcern. "Well, 'tis expected. He was to break my maiden's veil last eve."
"Break it, aye, but to cause so much blood he must have done more than that. The maun must ha'e been an animal. I was surprised to open the door and find ye standing this morn. Does it hurt to walk?"
Actually, it did, she acknowledged to herself, but only because of the tender cuts on her thighs, not for the reason Una thought. Frowning, she asked, "Was there too much blood then?"
"Aye," she assured her firmly. "'Tis normally just a bit of it."
Merry clucked irritably at this news as she began to strip her gown back off. "I wish ye'd told me so ere last night. That means I needn't have cut meself the second time at all."
"Cut yerself? Ye mean 'tis no' from the bedding?"
"My husband was so drunk he knocked himself out almost the minute everyone left the room," Merry said dryly, her voice muffled as she pulled the gown over her face. "He couldna bed anyone. But I kenned everyone would expect we consummate and be looking for the linen in the morning to prove it, so I cut meself and smeared the blood on the linen." She got the gown off and tossed it across the nearest chest with an irritated grimace. "I wasna sure how much blood there should be, but the first cut seemed to produce little, so I cut meself again. Only the second cut was deeper than I'd intended and bled quite freely."
Merry had tugged off her chemise as she spoke and now tossed it after the gown before turning to see Una's expression. The woman looked partly horrified at this news, partly admiring, and mostly like she was fighting to keep from laughing. Merry supposed it would be funny if she weren't still suffering a sore thigh from her efforts.
"What did yer husband say about it?" the maid asked finally, managing to stifle her amusement.
Merry shrugged. "Nothing. He was unconscious, as I said."
Una waved that away. "But what did he say this morn when he saw it?"
Merry didn't have any recollection at all of being woken and roused from her bed this morn, but she must have been for them to have taken the linen, she reasoned.
"I'm no' sure," she confessed unhappily. "I doona really recall waking this morning until just now."
Una pondered that briefly and then suggested, "Mayhap ye didna. Mayhap he just scooped ye up off the bed so they could take the linen and then set ye back to continue yer sleep."
Merry's eyebrows rose at the suggestion. She supposed that was most likely what had happened, else she'd have some memory of what had occurred, at least a sleepy, fuzzy one. However, it suggested a thoughtfulness and kindness on the part of her husband that she didn't generally equate with drunks. Their actions were usually selfish and thoughtless. At least they seemed to her to be. Although her own father and brothers had occasionally displayed a sweetness when sober that caught her by surprise.
Shrugging the matter away, she moved to the tub and leaned down to test the water. Finding it satisfactory, Merry then stepped carefully over the edge, grimacing as lifting her leg pulled on the wound again. Knowing the perfumed water was likely to sting the cut, Merry sucked in a breath and tried to steel herself against it, but still gasped in another breath as she settled to sit in the tub and the water covered her thighs. The pain was even worse than she'd feared, and she ground her teeth together and closed her eyes against the tears gathering there as she waited for it to pass.
Merry's eyes popped open again, however, when Una clucked with concern next to her.
"What did ye do to yerself, lass? There's blood in the water. Stand up."
Merry glanced down to see that there was indeed blood drifting through the water and it was coming from her right thigh. Grimacing, she stood up and let Una look at the wound.
"Dear God, what were ye trying to do? Cut off yer leg?"
"'Tis not that bad," Merry responded a bit irritably, for truly it did hurt and standing up had hurt, but sitting back down for the water to cover it again was going to hurt even more. Besides, she hadn't meant to cut so deeply, but the deed was done now, and she felt foolish enough knowing she hadn't needed to cut herself a second time at all.
Shaking her head, the maid straightened and gestured for her to continue with her bath.
Merry settled back in the tub, grinding her teeth against the return of pain as the water closed over her.
Una watched silently for a minute and then commented, "I wonder what he thought when he saw the blood this morn. Does he think he consummated the wedding? Or does he ken he didn't and has worked out that ye produced the blood for the linen?"
"I doona ken," Merry said as the pain finally began to ease.
"I think he thinks he consummated," Una decided. "He certainly looked guilt-riddled when he ordered me to let ye sleep and prepare a bath for when ye woke."
Merry felt a moment's guilt of her own at this possibility, but then shrugged. "Well, 'tis fine. Then mayhap he'll blame it on the drink and not drink so deeply ere he does try to bed me."
Una grunted at the suggestion and said, tightlipped, "I wasna keen on the idea o' moving to England in the first place, but I damned near dragged ye out o' the keep and back to the horses when we saw the state of the man ye were to marry. 'Tis hard to believe that God and the fates could be so cruel as to take ye from yer whiskey-soaked father and hand ye ower to a whiskey-soaked husband."
"Aye," Merry said unhappily.
"The only thing we can hope fer is that fate has a plan and the man will do ye the favor o' gettin' hisself killed quick so ye can find some peace."
It was nothing more than Merry had thought last night, but hearing it from her maid made it sound terribly cold and heartless. She squirmed in her bath, ashamed of herself.
"We shall just have to make the best o' it," Merry murmured, and then added, "Lady Edda seems nice."
"Humph," Una muttered, drawing her curious glance. The maid had picked up her gown and was shaking it out to set down more carefully so that it would not wrinkle.
"Has Lady Edda been unkind to you?" she asked with a small frown.