After a brief moment of silence her head came up with a radiant smile. “An’ the Parties! Balls and soirees! Pretty young girls chained naked to the trees in front of the manor. Lairds and Ladies in their finery. Soldiers a’ strutting in splendid kilties an’ scarlet uniforms. An’ the high street wealthy an’ politicians with the power an’ pride of nations ribboned on their chests—some of them foreigners with their outlandish prattle. Every year at harvest they come to dine, drink, and dance with the pretty prisoners we keep locked in the cellar. Yer father, he would have us servants teaching them poor girls to waltz like princesses. And he would buy ‘em pretty frocks and gowns. A waste of guineas, as our guests would soon strip their girls naked and be f*****g them all night long.” She smirk
