"Did you sleep well, my Lady?" Abigail asked me the next morning while she helped me dress.
"Pretty well."
Even though it felt ridiculous to have help for something like that, the truth was, I was out of my depth with the strange clothes they had here. I wasn't sure I could have gotten the underwear on alone, let alone the dresses with the seemingly hundreds of tiny buttons and over-tight seams.
I wanted to laugh at myself sometimes when I looked in the mirror. But there was a certain romance to it, too.
After I had the dress on, Abigail sat me on a wide stool in front of the vanity mirror so she could dress my hair.
Every morning she was forced to turn my hair into some strange creation every morning that either involved multiple braids, or long, loose tendrils of hair left down my back, while the front and top was twisted into something larger than a small dog. It carried a lot of weight usually, and was almost always tight and uncomfortable on my scalp.
