Daughters of the King (Completed)

06 | A Good Wife

"The less there is of eloquence, the more there is of love." — Charles Perrault, 1628-1703

Lorraine

"EACH OF YOU WILL BE QUIET. The men are expecting good wives—when married, it will no longer matter whether you are beautiful or homely. You were chosen because of your work ethic and supposed housekeeping skills, so you only need to keep a tidy appearance. You must prepare yourself for arduous farm work, difficult manual labour, and tribulation of every kind. You are to supply France with heirs so that our great nation may colonize the untamed land of uncivilized savages that is the New World. We have given each of you fifty livres for a reason. Now, listen as I instruct you how to prepare a proper meal for your husband." The directress Jeanne Gauthier remarks as she paces back and forth between the tables in the dining hall.

Directress Jeanne Gauthier is a plump, short woman, with fine, creased worry lines surrounding her lips and eyebrows, though her stature does not compare to her infallible, strict attitude. Perhaps, she was a pretty woman in her youth, but any remnant of beauty has been eradicated by an irreversible case of prune-like wrinkles and a severe expression that contorts her face.

It is whispered amongst the girls that she was once a governess for relatives of the royal family in Paris, but was dismissed because she refused to adapt to more progressive educational procedures.

I sense little Ami stiffening in terror beside me as Madame Gauthier continues to progress in her long-winded explanation of how to boil an egg correctly, and how the simple task is essential in achieving domestic bliss.

"It is essential to keep a tidy house. Your duty shall be to harvest and grow, to birth an abundance of children, and submit yourselves to the will of your husbands."

A small girl sitting at the back of the room hesitates before raising her hand. The rest of us swivel around to look at her.

"What should happen if our husband is violent?" She stammers meekly.

The room grows cool with silence until continues to explain. "I mean no disrespect, Madame. It is only that I worry that the man I marry might be prone to violence. We were told that we would choose our husbands freely, but what if they become harsh in their treatment of us after we marry them?"

I cringe for her sake while admiring her for her courage. I could never gather the bravery to ask such a daunting question myself.

"A husband disciplines his wife as he is obliged to. He will take measures of... more extraordinary lengths when the situation calls for it." Madame Gauthier pinches the fine line between her eyebrows. "If you are disobedient, your husband will see that you do not behave in such a manner again."

Her words horrify me.

Father has always been kind to Maman, slow to anger and gentle, expecting the husbands of his daughters to do the same. I suppose I always expected my husband would be as gentle as Father was, but now I am uncertain that I will have a say in the matter.

They promised us we could choose our husbands once we arrive in the New World, but my cynicism prompts me to suspect that they already made our choices for us.

A door swings open, followed by the cacophony of plates and cutlery crashing in the ship's kitchen, which is next door.

I crane my neck to glimpse Celeste, her inky black hair dishevelled and her cheeks painted bright with flushed colour. Her eyes shine with a bright hopefulness that I hadn't noticed before, and I wonder what has befallen her.

"Celeste," I whisper under my breath, "do not let Madame Gauthier notice you!"

Alas, it is too late.