“No, no, you don’t need to help.
There aren’t that many clothes.
I’ll be done soon.”
Martha waved her off, then lifted her head to look at the sun.
The weather was especially pleasant today.
The sunlight was warm against the skin, and as she stood there, she suddenly remembered that there was still plenty of hot water left in the large pot in the old orchard cottage kitchen.
She turned to Elena.
“Elena, the weather’s nice today.
There’s still hot water in the kitchen.
Why don’t I bring some over so you can take a proper bath?”
At the reminder, Elena instinctively raised one arm and gave herself a sniff.
Her brows immediately drew together.
A sour, stale smell drifted straight into her nose, strong enough to make her want to turn her head away.
Just how long had this body gone without a proper bath?
Martha stared at the disgusted expression on her daughter’s face for a second, then burst out laughing.
Elena looked up at the sound and froze as well.
Martha usually wore a worried expression, as though there were always something weighing on her mind.
She hadn’t expected her to look so pretty when she smiled.
Thinking about it, ever since Elena had arrived in this world, one thing after another had happened.
First came the fall into the pond and the fever.
Then, not long after she woke up, Thomas was injured.
Miller Farm had hardly had a peaceful moment since.
She really hadn’t had the chance to bathe properly.
Martha left the unfinished laundry soaking in the wooden basin and went into the old orchard cottage to bring out a large bathing tub.
She placed it in Elena’s room, then took her daughter to the cottage kitchen.
The kitchen wasn’t large, and the inside was somewhat dim.
An old brick stove had been built against one wall, with two iron pots of different sizes set on top.
One was usually used for boiling water and simple cooking, while the other was large enough for the meals Martha prepared for her own family.
Beside the stove stood a plain wooden cupboard.
Inside, clay bowls, wooden plates, and a few simple utensils had been arranged neatly.
Next to it was a large water barrel with a long-handled wooden dipper resting across the top.
Several rows of wooden hooks had been fixed to the walls, holding baskets, sieves, and various kitchen tools.
Everything was simple, but at least it was kept tidy.
Martha walked straight to the stove, lifted the lid from the pot, and tested the water with her hand.
It had cooled somewhat.
She covered it again and crouched in front of the stove.
After feeding in some dry kindling and firewood, she soon had the flames going again.
The wood crackled softly.
Before long, thin streams of white steam began curling from the edge of the pot lid.
Once the water was hot enough, Martha mixed in some cold water.
Together, mother and daughter carried the water back to Elena’s room and poured it into the large wooden tub.
When they were done, Martha wiped the sweat from her forehead and still looked a little uncertain.
“Elena, are you sure you can manage by yourself?
I could stay and help wash your hair or scrub your back.”
Elena’s face immediately grew warm.
She quickly shook her head.
“Really, Mom, I can do it myself.
You go finish your work.”
Martha saw how firmly she refused and didn’t insist.
She smiled instead.
“All right.
I’ll be outside washing clothes.
If you need anything, just call me.”
“I know.”
After Martha left, Elena shut the door and windows.
She walked over to the tub and glanced down at the clear surface of the water.
For the first time, she took a serious look at the face that now belonged to her.
She fell silent.
Round.
Dark from the sun.
And badly neglected.
There was quite a bit of flesh on her face, enough to soften most of her features.
Her chin was round, and her neck seemed almost hidden beneath the fullness of her cheeks and jaw.
Her hair was even worse.
It was messy, tangled, and knotted in several places.
No matter how she looked at it, this body was nothing like the one she’d had in her previous life.
Elena stared at her reflection for a long moment before helplessly running a hand through her hair.
This really was a miserable state.
Especially the hair.
It was so tangled that one tub of water probably wouldn’t be enough to clean it properly.
Forget it.
First things first.
She needed to get clean.
But just as she was about to start, another problem occurred to her.
There was no proper bar of soap waiting for her.
And there certainly weren’t any of the bathing products she had once been used to.
Elena glanced around the room.
It didn’t take long for her to spot what Martha had prepared for her.
A small bowl of mild homemade washing mixture and a clean piece of coarse linen cloth.
Elena picked up the cloth and stared at it for a moment.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
Fine.
When in Rome.
The cloth was rougher than anything she would have chosen in her previous life, and after scrubbing for a while, Elena couldn’t shake the feeling that she was trying to polish herself rather than take a bath.
The thought nearly made her laugh.
She had never considered herself particularly spoiled in her previous life, but life back then had still been far more convenient.
Who would have thought that after arriving in another world, even taking a bath would become such a troublesome task?
By the time she had scrubbed herself from head to toe, Elena still didn’t feel completely clean.
But when she looked down, the water in the tub had already turned too murky to keep using.
She had no choice but to stop.
After drying herself off, she picked up the clean clothes Martha had prepared and dressed.
They were old and patched in several places, but they had been washed carefully and smelled clean.
Once she had finished, Elena opened the door.
She was about to call Martha over to help empty the bathwater when she spotted Agnes coming along the path from the direction of the main farmhouse, her face dark with displeasure.
The hand she had injured earlier was wrapped in white bandages.
Agnes had apparently just returned to Miller Farm from the village.
Instead of going inside the main farmhouse, however, she had come directly toward the old orchard cottage.
She barely looked at Elena.
As she passed Martha, who was still washing clothes outside the cottage, she paused long enough to shoot her a hard glare.
Martha immediately grew uneasy.
She stood and wiped her wet hands against her apron.
When she saw the bandage around Agnes’s hand, she wanted to ask how the wound was doing.
But after what had happened that morning, the words stuck in her throat.
While she was still hesitating, Agnes pushed open the door to the old orchard cottage and went straight into the kitchen.
A moment later, the sound of things being searched through came from inside.
Clay bowls knocked against wooden plates.
Cupboard doors opened and closed.
No one could tell what she was looking for.
Martha stood outside the cottage, staring toward the kitchen in confusion.
Elena walked over and followed her gaze.
Listening to the noise from inside, she quickly guessed what was happening.
The corner of her lips lifted slightly.
“Mom, I think Grandma’s looking for something.”
“Looking for what?”
Elena lowered her voice.
“She probably thinks we cooked something good while everyone was away and ate it behind her back.”
“What?”
Martha’s eyes widened.
“It’s not even mealtime.
What could we possibly have eaten?”
Then she quickly added, “Elena, don’t make guesses like that.
If your grandmother hears you, she’ll only start another argument.”
Elena smiled.
“We’ll know soon enough whether I’m guessing.”
She didn’t explain further.
Instead, she turned and headed back toward her room.
Martha stayed where she was, staring after her daughter.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She had been married into the Miller family for more than ten years.
Agnes had scolded her plenty over the years, but when it came to taking food from the farm stores without permission, she had rarely been suspected of anything like that.
There was a simple reason.
Martha had never secretly taken extra flour, butter, eggs, or meat for her own family.
Although she and Thomas lived separately in the old orchard cottage, much of the grain and other food they used still came from Miller Farm’s shared stores and was managed by George and Agnes.
Martha had always been careful about what she took.
That was why Agnes had never had much reason to question her before.
Thinking of that, Martha felt a little more confident.
She hadn’t done anything wrong.
What was there to be afraid of?
She was just about to sit down and continue washing when the cottage door was suddenly pulled open.
Agnes stood there with a dark expression.
Her eyes landed directly on Martha.
“Well, well.
You certainly cleaned up after yourselves!”
She started shouting before Martha could even speak.
“You didn’t even leave a single crumb behind!”
Martha froze halfway into sitting down.
She looked up in confusion.
“Mom…
what do you mean?”
“What do I mean?
You’ve got ears, don’t you?”
Agnes glared at her.
“I was coming back from the village and saw smoke coming from the old orchard cottage chimney before I even reached the main farmhouse.”
She pointed back toward the cottage kitchen.
“It isn’t mealtime, so what were you lighting the stove for?”
Her face grew darker.
“Did you wait until everyone was gone, take food from the farm stores, cook yourselves something good, then clean everything up so I wouldn’t find out?”
Only then did Martha finally understand why Agnes had rushed straight into the cottage kitchen and started searching through everything.
Her face turned red.
She was embarrassed, angry, and deeply hurt all at once.
Her eyes reddened too.
“Mom, I really didn’t.”
Her voice trembled.
“I didn’t take any food.
I only heated water for Elena’s bath.”
She looked toward the cottage.
“That’s all.”
“How could I possibly do something like that behind your back…?”