Read Online The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl by Leigh Statham - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leigh Statham
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deep in thought now to care about gloves. She turned and slowly walked toward the street corner, her eyes fixed on the sea in the distance. It sparkled like a giant sapphire. Marguerite took in a deep breath of the thick, salt-touched air and wondered when she would taste it again. She noticed a man in front of her, dressed in a uniform, staring in the same direction. As she approached him he turned and tipped his head at her. “Fine day, isn’t it, lass?”
“Beautiful.” Her voice was far away and flat. She was wondering what lay in store for her on her last night at home.
“A lady as fine as yourself shouldn’t have such a long face. Is there a trouble I could administer to?” He was an older gentleman with a distinguished-looking white beard and crinkly smile lines around his eyes.
“Not unless you can save me from my evil governess who’s trying to send me away to boarding school for unmarriageable rich girls while my father plots to marry me off to the biggest poof in all of France. Meanwhile, my real love flies away to New France to be killed by savages.” She said it almost as if she were talking to herself.
He knit his brow and touched his beard. “It sounds like you’re craving a bit of independence?”
“ YES !” She turned to him fully now, realizing this old man understood where her heart was.
“Come inside for a moment.” He motioned to the post office door.
Once Marguerite’s eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting she saw a desk perched in front of the familiar self-serve mailboxes where the automatons came to gather mail for their masters. There was a quill and quite a bit of paperwork stacked on the desk in front of a very uncomfortable-looking chair. The old gentleman motioned for her to take a seat in what was clearly his place as he rifled through the papers. Marguerite sat down gingerly, curious as to what he had in mind.
“Ahh, here we are.” He pulled out a piece of thick parchment. “Don’t often use this one anymore.” Marguerite gazed at the print as he laid the sheet before her.
“ CONTRACT for GENTRY ” was etched across the top in neat printing.
“What is this?” She looked back to the old man.
“This, my girl, is your ticket to independence.” He smiled a jolly grin at her. “Read this bit here and then sign on the line and you are free to do as you please.”
For a moment Marguerite was afraid the seemingly harmless old fellow might have some sort of dementia, but when she glanced at the paragraph he pointed to, she realized she was looking at a contract for the Daughters of the King program.
“I thought this was a program for poor girls with no dowries!”
“Oh no, miss. In the first voyages, the aerships were filled to the brim with the very elite of Paris.” His words brought back the image of Laviolette saying much the same thing, only without any decorum.
“But, how does it work? What would I do?”
“You sign here and report back to the docks at seven o’clock sharp tomorrow morning and you board the vessel. Simple as that. The King provides your food, shelter, dowry, and trousseau. You are free to bring a few personal items, but you will want for nothing.”
“It seems a bit of a fairytale.” Marguerite was still curious, but very skeptical.
“Oh, it gets better than that. Once you arrive in New France you are free to choose the fellow you would like to build a life with, or none at all. It’s a different world out there. Women are not looked on as hothouse flowers, of that you can be certain. They own shops, lead in government, run estates. New France may still be officially a part of the Old Mother Country, but she’s her own animal entirely.”
Marguerite’s thoughts were on fire. If what this man was telling her was true, she may have found the answer to all of her problems.
“All I have to do is sign here and show up in the morning and you will take me to New France?”
“Yes, ma’am. We only have a few spots left on the
“Beautiful.” Her voice was far away and flat. She was wondering what lay in store for her on her last night at home.
“A lady as fine as yourself shouldn’t have such a long face. Is there a trouble I could administer to?” He was an older gentleman with a distinguished-looking white beard and crinkly smile lines around his eyes.
“Not unless you can save me from my evil governess who’s trying to send me away to boarding school for unmarriageable rich girls while my father plots to marry me off to the biggest poof in all of France. Meanwhile, my real love flies away to New France to be killed by savages.” She said it almost as if she were talking to herself.
He knit his brow and touched his beard. “It sounds like you’re craving a bit of independence?”
“ YES !” She turned to him fully now, realizing this old man understood where her heart was.
“Come inside for a moment.” He motioned to the post office door.
Once Marguerite’s eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting she saw a desk perched in front of the familiar self-serve mailboxes where the automatons came to gather mail for their masters. There was a quill and quite a bit of paperwork stacked on the desk in front of a very uncomfortable-looking chair. The old gentleman motioned for her to take a seat in what was clearly his place as he rifled through the papers. Marguerite sat down gingerly, curious as to what he had in mind.
“Ahh, here we are.” He pulled out a piece of thick parchment. “Don’t often use this one anymore.” Marguerite gazed at the print as he laid the sheet before her.
“ CONTRACT for GENTRY ” was etched across the top in neat printing.
“What is this?” She looked back to the old man.
“This, my girl, is your ticket to independence.” He smiled a jolly grin at her. “Read this bit here and then sign on the line and you are free to do as you please.”
For a moment Marguerite was afraid the seemingly harmless old fellow might have some sort of dementia, but when she glanced at the paragraph he pointed to, she realized she was looking at a contract for the Daughters of the King program.
“I thought this was a program for poor girls with no dowries!”
“Oh no, miss. In the first voyages, the aerships were filled to the brim with the very elite of Paris.” His words brought back the image of Laviolette saying much the same thing, only without any decorum.
“But, how does it work? What would I do?”
“You sign here and report back to the docks at seven o’clock sharp tomorrow morning and you board the vessel. Simple as that. The King provides your food, shelter, dowry, and trousseau. You are free to bring a few personal items, but you will want for nothing.”
“It seems a bit of a fairytale.” Marguerite was still curious, but very skeptical.
“Oh, it gets better than that. Once you arrive in New France you are free to choose the fellow you would like to build a life with, or none at all. It’s a different world out there. Women are not looked on as hothouse flowers, of that you can be certain. They own shops, lead in government, run estates. New France may still be officially a part of the Old Mother Country, but she’s her own animal entirely.”
Marguerite’s thoughts were on fire. If what this man was telling her was true, she may have found the answer to all of her problems.
“All I have to do is sign here and show up in the morning and you will take me to New France?”
“Yes, ma’am. We only have a few spots left on the
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