It was nearing midnight when I reached the quiet town of Saint-Martin-de Boscherville just outside of Rouen. I had come all the way from Bordeaux, where I had lived until my mother had so recently died. My father, having little money, sent me on my way. I knew it was for the best. Though he was old and ailing, he had my well married-off elder sister to look after him. As for me, no prospects could be found that suited his intense scrutiny. I was the oddball of my family, the one my father wanted to see educated rather than married. My father had written a letter to a wealthy cousin in Dijon, explaining his wish that I join his household and be privately tutored. The cousin replied, telling him his request was outrageous and the only use he could think of for an unmarried girl of nineteen would be a chambermaid to his wife. Rather than have me endure such a fate, my father gave me his blessing and sent me on my way.
Knowing full well it was dangerous for an unmarried woman to travel alone, I kept to the main roads, walking by day and making sure I found an inn by nightfall. It had taken me nearly three weeks to reach Rouen; I had bypassed Paris altogether. I had asked about employment in every village and city I'd been to thus far and received replies that there were none. I had not the heart to ask in Paris, I would hate to have traveled so far to such a large city and had door after door slammed in my face. No one wanted me for anything, not even a tavern wench.
And so it was that I found myself in Boscherville, as it was called by the locals. Rouen had been the final straw. I had been turned away at a brothel, for heaven's sake. I was certain I had enough remaining money to travel as far as England, and that is what I intended to do. But first, I needed sleep.
The inn I found was small but comfortable. I was treated kindly and given a hot meal. The old innkeeper seemed to know I needed company, and after the last tavern customer had left for the night, he crossed the room to the table where I sat and instantly engaged me in conversation.
"What's a pretty lass like you doing traveling all alone? Haven't you a husband?"
"No, Monsieur. My mother died and ever since my father has been too preoccupied to find me a suitable match." I took a sip of wine to bolster my strength. I had never discussed this before, and was unsure of how much I should tell him.
"Ah, that's a shame." he replied sadly. "Where are you from?"
"Bordeaux."
"That's a long way from here. How did you end up so far from home?" He seemed genuinely concerned about me, which was probably the only reason why I kept talking.
"I've been looking for work and found none, so I'm on my way to England. To start a new life." I paused. "There wouldn't be any employment here, would there?"
"Well, actually…there just might be."
These were the words that would change my life forever.
"You must understand, mademoiselle. I did not expect for you to accept this offer of help." The innkeeper rubbed his thumbs over his closed eyes and sighed. It was nearing two o'clock and I had been begging him to tell me what the job was. He finally complied, and poured us both tall glasses of wine. He said it would numb the shock.
"Why did you not take me seriously?" I asked. "I would not have traveled this far if I did not need the work."
"You would not want this job, if there even is one to have."
"Monsieur," I placed my hands flat on the table and boldly looked him in the eyes. "I asked for work in a brothel in Rouen and was turned down. Do you really think I wouldn't take a difficult job?"
"All right." he sighed. "At the far end of town, there is an old stone cottage where a young widow lives. She has but one friend to help her in this dark time in her life. She also has an infant son."
"And she needs a nursemaid?"
"Mademoiselle Perrault, her friend, has given that indication. She was an acquaintance of my late wife. We see each other every Sunday at Mass."
"Why is this job so terrible? It seems simple enough."
He paused. "The child…the child is rumored to be a monster, mademoiselle. He and his mother have been ostracized from the village. No one but the village priest and Marie Perrault will go near them. A pity for the mother. Everyone knew and loved her."
I was shocked, but not surprised. Small towns like this were very superstitious. "Do you know who I could talk to about this?" I asked.
He thought for a bit, then suggested I talk to Father Mansart, the priest. "He ought to be able to judge whether it would be a wise idea. But in the meantime, you should rest. You've had a long journey and should regain your strength before pursuing this. You'll need it."
"Thank you, Monsieur. Good night."
It was only when I was upstairs that I realized I had spent more money on my dinner than I intended. I could no longer afford passage to England.