Chapter 1
Before The Gilded Swan was shuttered for good, Ms. Rowan–ever the shrewd proprietress- announced a final act of “charity“: each girl would have one last chance to secure her freedom.
The other girls teased my mother with mocking envy.
“Elowen’s the lucky one. She bore a child for Sir Alaric Storme himself. Any day now that gallant knight will ride in with a chest full of sovereigns to set her and the babe free.”
Mother brushed them off, but that night, she stood barefoot at the brothel door until morning, waiting.
And sure enough, Sir Alaric arrived, gold in tow.
But he didn’t come for her.
He bought out Isolde instead–Mother’s closest companion.
Mother said nothing for a long time. Then she simply took my hand and climbed into the carriage from Hawthorne Manor.
After that day, I never called the knight “Father” again.
Grandmother Hawthorne told me he’d just forfeited his final chance at redemption.
Mother and Father had quarreled again.
I’d tossed and turned all night, only to wake to shouting–he wanted the unborn child in Mother’s
womb, claiming it was needed for some foul alchemical remedy.
Mother refused. She slapped him across the face.
Before storming off, he spat at the Ms. Rowan that he would no longer keep a reserved suite for
Mother, that we could fend for ourselves.
Then he disappeared into another room, while Mother stood in the hallway clutching her belly,
weeping silently.
I knocked on his door, still hoping he’d soften.
“Get out,” he snapped.
He had never spoken to me like that.
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Ms. Rowan, always good at feigning civility, took my hand and said to Mother, “Lovers quarrel, that’s all. You may work in a lowly house, but you’ve kept your virtue. And with a child on the way…”
“A reserved suite pays three times what the floor does,” she added sweetly. “And Sir Alaric paid eight years in advance.”
Just then, Isolde walked in, her delicate frame trembling as always.
“Just hold on a little longer,” she said. “Didn’t he promise you a proper wedding and a title now that he’s back a war hero?”
Mother shook her head and pulled me close. “Elinor’s nearly grown. He should have freed us long ago.”
Isolde gave a soft laugh. “To pay for your release? That would cost a fortune.”
They said when Mother was first brought here, every brothel in the district fought to claim her. In
the end, Ms. Rowan had paid handsomely to make her the Jewel of the Swan, and one glimpse had
snared Sir Alaric’s heart.
I perched by the window, legs dangling, as several constables swaggered into the brothel.
Moments later, shouting erupted outside.
Ms. Rowan burst through the door, pale and frantic. “A royal writ has arrived. This house is to be
shut by week’s end!”
“What are we supposed to do?” Mother clutched my hand, panicked.
Only Isolde remained still, eyes hollow, as if her mind had gone blank.
Ms. Rowan’s expression shifted. “They’ve given us three days. That’s what I’ll give you, too.”
“Anyone who has someone willing to come claim them, I’ll make no trouble. I won’t ask for a single
coin more than due.”
“But if no one comes by the third day, you’re coming with me to the countryside–to scrub chamber pots in the quarry pits‘
I didn’t know what the quarry pits were. Only that Mother’s hands were trembling.
The hall exploded in panic. Girls stuffed trinkets into satchels, praying some gentleman–any
gentleman–would claim them.
And jealousy sharpened its claws at Mother.
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“Elowen really is blessed. Sir Alaric may be furious now, but he wouldn’t just abandon her and the
child.”
“I remember before he left for war, he swore–if he returned victorious, he’d fetch her with coffers of gold and a state coach. No wonder she’s so calm.”
But I knew she wasn’t calm.
That night, she gathered her silver and jewelry, pressing it into the hands of a scullery maid with trembling fingers. “If anything happens to me,” she whispered, “take Elinor and go.”
On the first day, many familiar faces were claimed. But Father did not appear.
On the second day, most were gone–only the sick, old, or unwanted remained. Father still did not
come.
That night, someone brushed a hand over my face and murmured, “Elinor, I’m sorry. There are things you don’t understand… but I had no choice.”
I crawled to the casement. Below, Mother spoke to someone in a velvet–lined carriage, her face carved from ice. Probably another girl being freed–not us.
Then came the third day.
Father finally returned.
He arrived with great fanfare, chest after chest of gold carried into the brothel gates. The entire
street was abuzz.
Ms. Rowan fluttered about, urging Mother to change into something proper, pinching my cheeks and cooing, “You’ll be a lady soon.”
I clung to Isolde’s hand–she was the only one who’d given up her freedom to stay with Mother through this. I planned to beg Father to take her too.
He approached with a smile plastered across his face, reaching toward us. I held my breath.
Maybe… maybe if he apologized, we could forgive him.
But instead, he brushed right past Mother-
-and laid a hand on Isolde’s belly, voice thick with tenderness.
“I’ve brought the gold. Just as you wished. We’ll never be apart again.”
