The following days found Celeste spending more and more time at the cottage. With each visit, she added small touches to make the space her own—flowers picked from the garden, candles to brighten the room, and shelves she filled with books and journals. Her afternoons were often filled with reading or sketching plans for gatherings she could host, ideas for discussions, and thoughts on how to reach others who felt as she did. The cottage became a quiet sanctuary where she could nurture her ambitions without the weight of expectations pressing down.
One afternoon, as she arranged a bouquet by the window, Celeste noticed a young woman lingering at the edge of the garden, her gaze fixed curiously on the cottage. She looked about Celeste's age, though her plain dress and simple shawl marked her as a village commoner. Celeste waved, and the woman hesitantly stepped forward.
"Hello," Celeste greeted, her voice warm. "Your name's Maria, is it not."
The woman gave a quick, awkward curtsey. "My lady… I didn't mean to intrude. I just… I heard someone had been fixing up the old cottage, and I was curious." She looked down, nervously twisting her fingers. "Yes my Lady, I'm Maira. I work in the kitchens."
"You're not intruding at all, Maira. Please, come inside." Celeste gestured to a chair near the window, and Maira sat down, her movements careful and tentative.
They spoke for a while, Maira growing more comfortable as Celeste asked about her work in the mansion and her life in the city. Maira, it turned out, had a younger sister whom she looked after and dreams of one day opening a bakery in the city. But the thought seemed to embarrass her, and she looked away as she spoke.
"Why does that embarrass you?" Celeste asked gently.
Maira hesitated, then sighed. "It's… it feels silly, I suppose. No one in my family has ever done anything like that. We're just workers. And some days, it's hard enough to believe that I could do more than that." Celeste felt a pang of understanding. "Maira, it's not silly at all. A dream like that takes courage. I think it's wonderful, and I have no doubt you could make it happen."
A smile crept over Maira's face, her eyes bright with hope. "Do you really think so?" Celeste nodded. "Absolutely. And if you ever need someone to practice your baking on, I'll happily volunteer," she said with a wink. Their laughter filled the cozy space, and as they talked, Celeste realized this was exactly what she'd been hoping for—a chance to connect with others, to offer encouragement to those who felt as though they couldn't break free from the roles society expected of them.
Over the next few weeks, word began to spread that Lady Celeste had created a space for open conversations and dreams—a space where, regardless of one's station, they could come, share their thoughts, and find support. At first, it was a small trickle of people: a young man from the stables who wanted to learn how to read, a seamstress who dreamed of starting her own clothing line, and a maid who felt she had a talent for music but had never performed for anyone. Celeste welcomed them all, offering them tea, a warm smile, and, most importantly, a listening ear.
One chilly autumn evening, Aether arrived with a stack of books he'd found in town—a few on history, another on music, and a particularly worn volume on philosophy. He handed them to Celeste, grinning.
"For your collection," he said. "I thought your visitors might enjoy some variety."
Celeste's eyes sparkled as she accepted the books. "Thank you, Aether. I don't know how I would have started all this without you."
"Then I'm glad to be part of it," he replied, his gaze softening. "You're creating something incredible here, Celeste. I think… I think this is exactly where you were meant to be." She looked away, touched by his words. She hadn't expected her project to grow so quickly, or for so many people to find hope in this humble little cottage. It was no longer just a sanctuary for her; it had become a beacon of possibility for others.
One night, as she sat by the window, a notebook on her lap, she reflected on the way her life had shifted. The betrayal that once haunted her seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the newfound sense of purpose she found in helping others. The people who visited her cottage, each with their own dreams and struggles, reminded her of the women in her book—ordinary individuals who'd made an extraordinary impact.
With a deep breath, Celeste dipped her quill in ink and began to write in her notebook:
*Today, Maira spoke of her plans for her bakery with a confidence I hadn't seen in her before. She even brought a small loaf for us to taste—lavender and honey, warm and perfect. It struck me that this place, this cottage, has grown into something I never anticipated. I feel as if I've found my true path, and it's nothing like I ever imagined. For the first time, I'm not just fulfilling someone else's expectations. I'm creating something of my own.*
She paused, a smile spreading across her face as she looked out at the night sky.
*Perhaps, in the end, that's what freedom truly is.* As the stars shimmered above, Celeste closed her notebook, her heart filled with a quiet certainty. She knew that the road ahead would not always be easy, but she was ready. With each person she helped, with each new dream she supported, she was building a legacy that was truly hers—a future that no betrayal or expectation could take away.
And for Celeste, that was enough.