My mother and sister are both quite beautiful; I am the ugly duckling of the family; a throw-back to my Irish ancestors, which rankles my Norman mother. I have red-gold hair in a family of pale-haired beauties with alabaster skin. Only my father has black hair and a light complexion with red cheeks. I am merely pale with a tendency to turn red at every opportunity, whether it is due to weather, physical exertion, or emotion. My one saving grace is that I don’t have freckles. I have given up on perfect skin, and am often scolded for letting the sun on my face.
My hair is very thick and heavy, and has deep waves in it. It refuses to stay under a cap, which torments me constantly by compressing my hair until it feels like some live creature against my head, and makes me want to scream like a banshee. Whenever I think I can get away with it, I remove my coif and veil. I detest head coverings most of the time. The exception being very hot weather (a straw hat) or very cold weather (a lined hood). In between extremes of weather, I feel I should be allowed to wear my hair free, but of course, I cannot. It is unseemly.
Oddly, though, I do like wearing a nice gown with embroidery-work, and new, soft leather shoes which match. I like my little comforts and luxuries. I’m not sure I deserve them. It’s not the trapping I dislike; it’s the conventions. I love to sing, and I have a good voice, though untrained. However, I am more likely to sing a bawdy song under my breath, than a proper lay in a lady-like strain. What I especially like is to sing the songs of the monks and nuns. My Latin is not especially good, so I don’t always know what it is I’m singing, but I do know that the songs praise the Lord, and they sound beautiful, so I sing them when I can manage to be alone. I have been told it is unseemly for me to sing them outside of the church, but I don’t see why.
But, what matter. No one will have me now, anyway. I have been sent home by my husband, and cannot remarry in the eyes of the church. So, I shall be something of a spinster. Perhaps, that is best. I am not proper wife material, in any case. I’m not sure I mind.
