I spent the next hour trying to find a comfortable position in the new dress. The structured bodice made sitting upright painful with the weight of the chain pulling at my neck. Lying down crushed the detailed embroidery. I settled for perching on the edge of the bed, shoulders rounded forward to relieve some of the strain.
When Margaret returned, she carried a tray laden with more food than I’d seen since arriving at Gaspard’s house. Bread, cheese, dried meats, even a small honey cake. Two cups sat beside a steaming pot of what smelled like mint tea.
“I thought perhaps we might dine together,” she said, setting the tray on the small table. “Unless thou wouldst prefer solitude?”
“No, please,” I gestured to the only other chair in the room. “I’d welcome the company.”
She nodded, pouring the tea for both of us before taking a seat. We ate in silence for a few moments, the simple act of sharing a meal creating a fragile bond between us.
“The dress suits thee,” Margaret said eventually. “Though I understand why thou dislikes it.”
I tugged at the bodice, trying to cover more of my exposed skin. “It feels like another form of imprisonment.”
“It is,” she agreed, surprising me with her frankness. “My daughter felt the same way about the clothes her father made her wear.”
“You have a daughter?” I asked, leaning forward despite the collar’s weight.
Margaret’s face softened. “Yes. Elise. She’s five and twenty now.” A small smile played at her lips. “She has a child of her own, my little grandson Thomas.”
“Where is she?” I asked, hungry for this glimpse into a life beyond these walls.
“Eldagh,” Margaret replied, watching my reaction carefully. “She left five years ago, after...” Her voice trailed off, her eyes clouding with memories.
“Eldagh?” I echoed, surprised. “But that’s—”
“A lawless place, according to most,” Margaret finished for me. “A haven, according to others.”
I’d heard of Eldagh before. The village that sat at the river’s end, bordering the kingdom’s edge. Papa had spoken of it as a cautionary tale, a place where exiles and thieves gathered, where the king’s guard feared to tread. No one chose to visit there, let alone live in such barbarism. At least, that’s what I’d always believed.
“Why would she go there?” I asked, unable to hide my confusion.
Margaret took a sip of tea, considering her words. “In Eldagh, women can own property. They can conduct business, live aloneif they choose.” Her eyes met mine. “They can escape men like Gaspard.”
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. A place where women could be free. Where they could own land, make their own decisions. It seemed impossible.
“But... how does she survive there? Among criminals and outcasts?”
“Not all who live in Eldagh are criminals,” Margaret said firmly. “Many are simply those who had no place else to go. Women fleeing marriages like the one waiting for thee. Families escaping debt. Scholars whose ideas offended the wrong noble.” She broke off a piece of bread, adding softly, “My Elise runs an apothecary there. Uses the herbs I taught her to identify, just as thy mother taught thee.”
My heart quickened at the mention of my mother’s craft. “An apothecary? And she owns it herself?”
Margaret nodded. “She does. And the rooms above it where she lives with Thomas. No husband to claim it. No father to rule over her.”
The possibilities swirled in my mind. Could such a place truly exist? And if it did, could I somehow find my way there? The chain around my neck seemed to grow heavier as hope flickered to life inside me.
“And her husband?” I asked, noticing Margaret hadn’t mentioned him. “Thomas’s father?”
Margaret’s face darkened. She set down her cup with trembling hands. “There was no husband,” she said softly. “Only a master who took what he wanted.”
Understanding dawned, cold and terrible. “Oh,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
She nodded, eyes downcast. “Thou art new to this level of cruelty, but some women are born into it or find it during their employment.” Her hand reached across the table to pat my knee.“Elise was fourteen when it began. The same age I was when I entered service in this house.”
The implication hung in the air between us, too horrible to put into words. Generations of women suffering at the hands of men who saw them as property. Mothers watching helplessly as daughters endured the same fate. An endless cycle of abuse and survival.
“But she escaped,” I said, clinging to the one bright thread in this dark tapestry. “Your daughter found freedom.”
“She did,” Margaret confirmed. “And she isn’t the only one. There are others in Eldagh. Women who refused the path laid out for them.” She stood abruptly, gathering the dishes. “I’ve said too much. I must go.”
