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Marilee caughtup to Peggy as she was pushing open the laundry room door. Heat from the fires hit them like a wall as they entered the room.
“They don’t lock it for you?” Marilee realized. “You could escape.”
“No, I cannot,” Peggy replied, turning earnestly to Marilee. “We cannot. I persuaded Mrs. Cavendish that the linens needed to soak overnight and that we would only be a few hours within. Besides,” she said with any trace of hope gone from her voice, “I have tried to escape often enough to know that it is not possible. All exterior doors are watched at even the darkest of hours. All the attempt will get you is beaten within an inch of your life.”
“They beat you?” Marilee blurted.
Peggy nodded once, and did not meet her eye. “Our breakfast should be warm,” she said with forced cheeriness.
Marilee took her bowl silently. She realized then that Peggy was speaking from experience. She felt a small bit of her own hope fade away. Still, there was a glimmer of relief. This Peggy was like her; not a captor sent to torment her, but perhaps a companion. Perhaps together, if they must, they could find a way to escape. At least the companionship may make the task less miserable.
“I’ve been doing the laundry on my own for nearly a year,” Peggy shrugged as she began to eat her porridge.
“An impossible task,” Marilee observed, looking at the gargantuan piles of laundry. She had never seen so much laundry in one place.
Peggy nodded. “Before that I had Sarah to help but…” her dark eyes welled with tears. She then shook her head and pushed away whatever memories haunted her.
Marilee wanted to agree, but she needed to know more. “Tell me. What happened to Sarah?” she asked.
“Honestly,” Peggy shrugged as they sat aside their bowls and started to sort the clothing. “I don’t know. One day I came down expecting her to be here as always and she wasn’t. I have heard nothing since. No one speaks the names of those who are gone. In fact, no one speaks much at all.”
“Maybe she escaped!” Marilee whispered.
Peggy shook her head. “I told you; you don’t escape. The only way out of this house is if they take you.”
Marilee bit her lip. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know how many servants were held captive here, how many had come and gone over the years, but she could tell that Peggy was done talking. She dared only one more question.
“How long have you been here?”
Peggy turned her back to Marilee and began to sort the pile on the table. “It’ll be four years come Christmastide.”
Four years! Marilee could hardly fathom such a time trapped inside one house. Four years of failed escape attempts and watching others come and go in the night. The girl didn’t seem old enough to have worked her so long.
“How old were you?” Marilee asked aghast. “When they took you?”
“Nearly sixteen,” Peggy said. “I came to the city to find work, and well, things did not turn out as I wished. Please, don’t cause trouble,” Peggy spun on Marilee with sudden fervor. “Whatever you do, do not upset them. I should not be telling you this, but I feel I must, to prevent you from being punished. Their penalties are severe and if you upset them, I don’t know where they’d take you, but it cannot be good. Sarah attacked one of the men guarding the door before she disappeared. That is all that I know, but wherever they took her, must be worse than this.”
“It is,” Marilee blurted, suddenly realizing what the alternative to this forced servitude must be. When Peggy’s eyebrows raised in question, her features proclaiming that she both needed to know and did not want to hear the truth that Marilee could provide, she was forced to continue. “I was taken first to a brothel before I was brought here. No, nothing came of it,” she added when it was clear what Peggy had assumed, “but the threat was clear. Here… or there.” She scrambled to offer some hope to her new companion with regard to the loss of her friend. “I could be wrong. There are other houses like this. I know that as well.” She hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “There was another girl that they brought into the room with me… they had said that she was to go to a different house. Sarah might have been moved to one of those.”
“Perhaps,” Peggy mused, “but I doubt it.” She released a long breath. “I’ve long suspected it was either a brothel or a ship. Neither bodes well for my friend…or for us if we are caught out.”
“I didn’t mean to worry you further,” Marilee said with sincerity. She had been blessed with one companion during this trial and already she had caused a hurt. If she truly wanted to survive this ordeal, and she prayed it was not for years upon end as it had been for Peggy, then she could not do it alone.
“You did not tell me anything that I did not already suspect,” Peggy replied. “Besides, I’ve learned to focus my anger on the enemy, and as far as I can see, you are not it.”
While they were sorting the clothing, a footman brought a bucket with supplies in it.
“Oh good,” said Peggy as she took the bucket. The laundress began to unwrap the packages and explain their uses to Marilee. Lye, starch, and lemon were all familiar items. Cleaning, pressing, and removing bothersome stains from garments were things she had seen done hundreds of times. Peggy pulled a leather pouch filled with powder from the bucket and reached inside, blowing the particles into the air between them.
“Chalk for anything greasy or oily in nature,” she explained. A bottle of alcohol, kerosene, and a small vial of something that made Marilee’s eyes water were revealed next. “All for stains. That last is onion juice,” Peggy laughed as Marilee rubbed at her eyes.
“You ought to have warned me,” she scolded as tears ran down her face.
“It doesn’t affect me that way anymore,” Peggy apologized, “I forgot that could happen.”
Marilee wished that her eyes did not water from the scent of onions, but she supposed they would get used to the offensive fluid in time. At least, she hoped.
