Chapter 29

Anne sat on the blue-painted kitchen stool that Bess had somehow salvaged from Annapolis, an old linen sheet wrapped around her, hands clasped in her lap, positive she had made the right decision, and Bess stood before her with her heavy shears in her hand and a scowl on her face. "You sure 'bout this, girl?" she asked sternly. "Don' seem right." The gray cat licked itself on the windowsill, watching surreptitiously but looking disinterested.

Anne nodded. "Cut it off. Take at least half. I still look like a little girl with all this cursed hair." She exhaled and gritted her teeth. She had decided and then reconsidered and decided again late last night. She clamped her jaws closed.

"It's beautiful an' you always keeps it clean."

"It's a pain, an unnecessary pain, a lot of trouble, and besides it makes me look foolish. Everybody stares at my red head. It blows in my face when I'm riding, gets in my food. Cut it off."

"Wish you'd get somebuddy else t'do this." She scowled at the young woman that legally owned her, snapping her heavy shears in the air with metallic clicks.

"You cut yours, you cut your child's, and I've seen you cut some long-haired children's hair for the neighbors from time to time. And I watched you shave Billy, remember? So do it, please do it." She managed a smile. "I trust you."

Bess nodded, grasped one of Anne's rich locks, dragged it outward and sheared it in half. She grabbed the severed hank as the curly hair fell back in place and held it before the young woman. "What you want me to do with this? Gonna be a basket full."

"Save it. Maybe doll makers or folks that do wigs can use it. We can stuff a pillow." She laughed as Bess dragged up another rich length and cut it in half. The hair sprang back and curled tightly, and old slave took a deep breath and worked quickly around Anne' s head, pulling out handfuls between her strong fingers and lopping them off along her knuckles.

In ten minutes, it was done. The young woman's Titian curls now hung to her shoulders instead of halfway down her back. Ringlets dangled before her ears, and she recalled André playing with her hair as he stretched them out. She thanked Bess, looked in her mirror and decided it was just a start, not what she wanted. She choked back something that tasted of regret.

With some shillings in her purse, she rode into town and to the harbor's only barber and sometime surgeon, a man who also pulled teeth and applied leeches. After some dickering and despite his reluctance, her determination won him over. She sat in his chair wrapped in his stained cloth, and he thinned and shaped her hair so she could easily tie it back.

"Cleanest hair I ever cut," he said as he stood back and admired his work, his wide-toothed comb in one hand and thin-bladed razor in the other, his floor littered with auburn shards. He handed her a mirror and she looked at herself, left and right, her mouth a thin line. It was a real change, and she took a deep breath, briefly unsure she had done the right thing. When she held it back, she looked quite boyish. He tied it for her with a piece of rough cord.

"What do you think?" she asked him.

He grinned. "Best I can do, miss. Damn shame to do what I done. Yer d'handsomest boy in town, by far, yes'm, maybe in Mer'lan b'damn."

"I'll be back in a couple of months. This stuff grows pretty fast." She gave him two shillings and he tried to give her one back.

"We agreed on one," he said.

"It was a big job and you did it extra well."

"Yes'm," he said as he watched her leave and flopped in his own chair with a small bottle in his hand. He took a deep draught, shook his head and said to the empty room, "Jessy b'damned if that ain't the fairest woman I ever seed. S'bones!" He tipped the bottle up again, beginning to relax as the brandy did its job.

Anne walked to the lawyer's office, leading her old horse, feeling very frisky, inwardly and strangely amused. She said hello to Philip who goggled at her and went to right Mr. Maguire's desk. "Any news?" she asked blandly, chin up, grin suppressed.