Filed To Story: Queen of the Battlefield Her Return to Glory Novel Online Free
Selma laughed and scolded, “Look at you, clinging to something so trivial. Do you think you can even wear those clothes back at the estate? Not even the servants would be caught dead in such cheap material.” “Whether I wear them or not, they’re mine, and I’m taking them!” Jessica retorted sharply.
“Fine,” Selma said with a dismissive wave. “I’ll gather them for you so you can leave already.”
“Stop right there!” Jessica sprang to her feet, her posture fierce, like a tigress defending her den. “Don’t touch my things! I’ll pack them myself!”
Without waiting for a response, she stormed off toward her room, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. Leona exchanged a glance with Violet, who gave her a slight nod to follow. Rising, Leona trailed after her cousin.
The room Jessica had been staying in was small, and Leona could take it all in with a single glance. The room was far from tidy-mud streaked the floor, and a brand-new outfit hung over the back of a chair, reeking faintly of sweat. On the ground were two pairs of shoes -one plain but new, the other a pair of mud-caked sandals. They were haphazardly tossed aside, as if they had been kicked off the moment someone walked in.
Jessica scooped the dress off the chair and clutched it to her chest. The garment was plain, with no embroidery or patterns, made from the most unremarkable fabric. Yet, the stitches were fine and meticulously done.
Leona tilted her head. “Is that dress particularly precious to you?”
Jessica sneered. “Precious? Hardly! Selma dug out some old scrap fabric from the bottom of her chest to make it for me. That old hag acted like it was such a hardship to part with even that much. Hmph, I’m not about to leave it behind for her to reclaim.” Leona stared at her, wide-eyed. “Jessica, did you just curse?”
Jessica glanced at Leona with a smirk, then replayed her words in her head. With a dry laugh, she replied, “If you think it’s crude, cover your ears and spare yourself. It’s not your place to police what I say it’s not like I insulted you.”
Leona blinked, clearly startled by the response, but then nodded dumbly. “Oh… All right.”
Jessica huffed hugging the bundle of clothes tighter. “It’s that old hag’s fault. She’s rubbed off on me. Ugh, if I go back to Ironridge Estate and det something like that slip, Madam Margaret is just going to find another reason to criticize me.”
Leona’s brow furrowed in thought. “Jessica… Are you sure you even want to go back?”
Jessica scoffed and strode toward the door, hertone sharp. “Of course I’m going back. I owe more money than I can count. How am I
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supposed to repay my debts if I stay here? Besides, what’s so great about this place? It’s going to fill up with bitter women, abandoned and angry. I’d suffocate in the misery.”
With that, Jessica made her way to find Hannah to say her goodbyes and offer her thanks.
She still barely acknowledged Violet, though before leaving, she cast Violet a long, deliberate glance and said, “Don’t worry. Soon, this place will be bustling with people.”
Violet responded with a soft hum and offered no further words. She had already learned to let time unfold at its own pace.
When Jessica finally departed, she strode past Selma with her head held high, though she couldn’t help but glance back every few steps. There was a glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away. Thus, Skye Embroidery’s first resident departed and its second resident moved in.
On the third day after Jessica’s departure, before the sun had risen, an older woman with streaks of gray in her hastood hesitantly at the gates of the workshop. She clutched a small bundle to her chest, her eyes hollow and brimming with uncertainty.
Several times, she reached out to knock. Each time, her hand wavered and fell back to her side.
“Go on, step inside.”
A voice came from behind her, startling her. She stepped back in fright, ready to flee, but her path was blocked.
Jessica stood there, dressed in a luxurious gown, her hair intricately styled in an elaborate, towering updo. Behind her, two maids carried armfuls of parcels.
Jessica studied the woman before her.
The woman’s face was lined with sorrow, and her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had ground her down.
With a voice softer than her usual sharpness, Jessica said, “If you’re looking for a way to keep going, step inside. The life here is simple, but no one will hurt you ever again.”
At that, the woman’s tears spilled over, flowing like an unstoppable river breaking through a dam.
Her name was Camila Moore. Once upon a time, she and her husband, Soren Carter, had owned a thriving dye shop in the capital. They weren’t among the wealthiest, but their lives were comfortable. Their marriage was harmonious, and their little family was complete with a cherished daughter.
However, her daughter’s birth had been harrowing. The blood loss nearly took Camila’s life. While the midwife had managed to save her, the verdict had been clear: she would never bear another child.
Camila had grieved deeply over the news, but Soren had always reassured her.
“One daughter is enough,” he had said with a smile. “She is our treasure. Besides, I have two younger brothers. They’ll carry on the family name.”
Taking comfort in his words, Camila devoted herself to her role as the eldest sister-in-law, using their wealth to arrange good marriages for her husband’s brothers. Over time, both younger men had wives and children of their own. They held Camila in the highest regard and sought her advice on all family matters.
However, the world they had built crumbled a year ago. Soren and their daughter had traveled to the countryside to visit relatives, only to encounter a band of ruthless bandits. When word reached Camila, it wasn’t her lively husband and sweet child who returned, but their lifeless, battered bodies. The grief had been unbearable-her very reason for living was torn away in an instant.
She might have succumbed to despair, but the duty to care for her elderly parents and in-laws had kept her going. She told herself she still had a purpose, a responsibility to honor her husband’s family.
Her in-laws, however, didn’t share her sense of loyalty. With Soren gone and no son to carry on the family name, they saw Camila as a burden, one better cast off.
In less than a year, they stripped her of everything her home, the dye shop she and her husband had built together, and every coin she had saved. Then they cast her out and accused her of beating her mother-in-law, an accusation they backed with false witnesses and carefully placed bruises. The case went before the local authorities.
Despite her pleas of innocence, the testimonies of servants and her brothers-in-law’s wives sealed her fate.
Banished from her husband’s home and branded a criminal, Camila turned to her own family for help. However, her elder brother and his wife saw only disgrace in her misfortune. They refused her shelter, blaming her for tarnishing the Moore family’s name. “I thought about ending it,” Camila admitted, her voice trembling as she recounted her pain.
“What reason was there to go on? But I couldn’t do it-I couldn’t let them win so easily. If I die, I’d only be giving them exactly what they want. No, I want to live. I want to take back the dye shop that belonged to my husband and me. I want to hold my head high again. I want to live better than any of them could ever dream.
“I’ve been cast out for over a month. I’d heard of Skye Embroidery, but with the reputation I’ve gained-beating my mother-in-law, they say I thought there was no way you’d accept someone like me. I didn’t believe there could be a place in this world with such kindness toward women.”
Her gaze flickered toward Violet, her eyes red-rimmed but bright with a faint glimmer of hope.
“Then I heard of Lady Jessica. I thought about it for days. If someone like her could find refuge
I heybe….just maybe, I could try my luck.”
Violet studied her for a moment before asking, “Where have you been staying all this time?”
“A woman who worked at our dye shop took me in,” Camila admitted. “But her home is small, and I didn’t want to burden her any further.”
The woman who had taken Camila in was probably facing blame from both Camila’s natal and husband’s families.
Violet nodded. “Then stay. There’s a place for you here.”
Camila froze.
They were accepting her, just like that? Didn’t they need to investigate?
“But… I have a bad reputation outside.”
Jessica scoffed. “Reputations are worth nothing. You think your bad name is worse than mine? They didn’t hesitate to take me in.”