She followed him out and found both Sarah and Matthew preparing for the day. Sarah smiled and said. “Can you get the bread?”

Cadan made for the fire nook, grabbing a cloth on the way. “Not with your hands in that state, Nora.”

“They’re fine.” She stalked over to the pantry, only to find the butter and honey already on the table.

Sarah came around the table towards her. “What’s wrong with your hands?”

Eleanor sighed and held them out for Sarah’s inspection. “They’re just a little sore from yesterday, nothing serious.”

Sarah snorted. “They’re bright red and swollen, I’d call that a little serious at least.”

Matthew peered over his wife’s shoulder. “They look like they’re burnt, are some of the pipes in the bath house running too hot?”

Eleanor shook her head and Sarah replied. “More likely it’s the soap. It’s a strong enough batch that I’ve noticed the sting. We’ll be more careful with the lye measurements in future.”

She was being pandered to again. “It’ll be fine once the skin toughens up.”

Sarah raised a brow. “And until then? You think you’ll harden your skin by removing it every couple of days?”

Eleanor bit her lip and shook her head.

She pulled her hands from Sarah’s grasp and made her way to the table. Cadan handed her a slice of bread already spread with butter and honey. He thought she couldn’t do anything. She sighed and looked at her hands, clearly, he was right.

He spoke across the table to Matthew. “I’m staying with Eleanor today.”

She turned on him. “No, you’re not. I am not going to have people say you’re neglecting your duties because of me. Sarah has already said we’re to have a quieter day today and I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

Cadan looked askance at Sarah, who shook her head. “I’ll dress your hands after we bathe, but it’s going to be a couple of days before they ease enough to use normally, even with my burn paste.”

“Then what am I going to do?” that came out as more of a wail than she liked.

Sarah was unruffled. “We’ll find plenty, don’t you worry about that. And don’t you worry about Miss Martha either. For all she’d like to think otherwise, she doesn’t dictate the opinions of the village.”

Cadan shifted into hunter mode beside her. “Martha?”

Sarah replied. “Leave it be.”

“But…”

He sounded so unhappy, Eleanor leaned in to his side. “If you really want to do something for me, I’d like a pair of knitting needles.”

He eyed her suspiciously, she gave him her best persuasive smile. “I want to learn to knit and make you a lumpy, scratchy scarf that you have to say is wonderful.”

The corners of his lips tweaked up into a little smile, and his arm came around her shoulders. “I can do that.”

Sarah broke the moment between them. “Time to go. Finish your bread and I’ll get one of the baskets for the laundry.”

Eleanor reluctantly moved out of Cadan’s hold and gathered her clothes. He watched her go, a worried crease between his brows. She went back and poked it, not hard enough to hurt her finger, or his head. “Stop worrying.”

His reluctant smile appeared again and she followed Sarah out of the door with a little pink glow somewhere near her heart. It faded all too soon under the onslaught of the rain. The type of steady drumming that said it was in for the long haul. They ran across the clearing, trying to avoid the worst of the mud and puddles, then eased a little as they reached the trees. For now, the thick canopy above was holding off all but the most determined drops. Another sprint to the bath house and inside.

Maggie looked around from where she was folding the last of their clothes from the previous day. “We need the room for towels, day like today’s going to need hair drying as well as bodies.”

Sarah transferred the neat pile into their basket with smiling thanks, then said. “Now we’ve a little twist to our plans for the day. Eleanor’s had a bad reaction to the laundry soap and her hands need wrapping. Is she still going to be able to help you this afternoon?”

Eleanor held out her hands for Maggie to inspect, along with most of the other women already there. Maggie said. “Still have her come to me, we’ll discuss the stages and skills.”

She looked around and added. “And maybe set aside some time for storytelling if any parents see fit to send their children over to me in the afternoon.”

She explained to Eleanor. “I’ve a large room for the weaving, and in bad weather it gets the little ones out from underfoot, without them ending up head to toe in mud.”

Tilly was one of the hand inspectors, confused but supportive. She helped Eleanor out of her clothes from the previous day and seemed about to dive into more questions about town life. Eleanor hurried into some questions of her own.

“Please tell me more about the village, the only things I know are that you supply wood, mostly to the castle and that Mistress Lily’s father designed this amazing bath house.”

Martha entered in time to hear the last. “This bath house isn’t amazing, stop trying to worm your way in to people’s good graces.”

Eleanor eyed the other girl and decided to answer, more for the sake of her audience than Martha herself. “I’ve been to bath houses in several other places. They are all dark, slimy, smelly, and miserable. The only things you want to do in them is get clean and get out as fast as you can.”

Martha snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

Eleanor shrugged and applied herself to washing. The cleaning paste was rough and uncomfortable on her palms but eased the stiffness in her limbs and fingers as it cleaned. Drying and dressing was largely uneventful, although she still needed help with the laces and combing out the thick fall of her hair proved too painful to manage. Tilly came to the rescue again, easing out the tangles and pulling Eleanor’s dark locks back into a simple pair of braids. “I can’t do anything fancy I’m afraid, but this will keep you tidy.”

Eleanor patted them, they were smooth, even, and secure. “They’re perfect, thank you.”

Tilly flushed with pleasure as Eleanor stood to leave with Sarah. Maggie called out. “Be sure to have her hands treated and wrapped before she comes to me this afternoon.”

Sarah waved her acknowledgement then gathered her skirts, and the basket, to run. Eleanor did the same, and they tumbled into the cottage a short while later damp, but mostly clean.

Over breakfast, Eleanor addressed the apron issue. Sarah said. “What did you bring your clothes in when you came here?”

“My pillowcase.” Eleanor fetched it.

When she returned, Sarah had placed a pot and a thin roll of linen on the table. “We’ll have a proper look at it shortly. First I want to deal with your hands. The more time you have the paste on before you go to Maggie’s, the better.”

As promised, the morning was quiet. With her hands covered in a smooth, cooling paste, then wrapped in linen bandage, there weren’t many tasks Eleanor was able to do. In the end, she fetched the book that had created the trouble, and brought Cadan into her father’s front hall, and read one of the stories to Sarah.

When she finished, the healer leaned over her shoulder to look at the slightly water-stained page. “Is that one of those gryphons you just talked about? They’re mighty fierce-looking beasts. I’ll choose our cockatrices over one of them any day. You can generally get them out of the vegetable patch with some yelling and a good snap of a tea towel. That thing would just look at you and lie on the cabbages.”

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