The very idea of socializing with women like Mrs. Moresby and the other members of the committee only frightened Mercy. She would have counted herself lucky to be a servant to such women, and never in a hundred years would she consider the possibility of becoming one of them.

“You’ve already started the journey to a new life by coming here,” Mrs. Moresby continued. “It took a great deal of courage and strength to leave your family and country of birth behind.”

The other women were passing them and entering the barracks, but Mercy wasn’t in a hurry to part ways with Mrs. Moresby. Though the conversation was startling, Mercy wanted more. For a reason she couldn’t explain, Mrs. Moresby’s revelation and encouragement gave her hope.

“Just because you’ve arrived to Vancouver Island doesn’t mean you have to stop your journey to a new life.” Mrs. Moresby once again removed her handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed her forehead with it. “In fact, our whole lives are going to be filled with challenges, and our job is to keep growing and seeking after what God has next for us.”

Mrs. Moresby’s admonition sounded like something Patience would say.

“Don’t get stuck, Mercy. Don’t get stuck thinking you don’t matter or you’re not important enough. I know for people like us who come from lowly backgrounds, we all too often accept our place at the bottom and think that’s where we belong. But that’s just not true. God didn’t create some people to be better than others. He created everyone to have equal value.”

Mrs. Moresby’s words were unlike anything Mercy had ever heard. She supposed here in the colony, away from the motherland, people were free to create a new life, to think differently, to break away from the customary ways of relating. Clearly, Mrs. Moresby had done so with her life.

And yet Mercy wasn’t certain she could do the same or even if she wanted to. For so long, all she’d thought about was survival, for herself and for those she loved.

Mrs. Moresby patted her hand as though to encourage her to accept everything she’d just shared.

Mercy gave a brave nod, but inside she trembled. Mr. Scott’s reminders for her to stay in her place were much more familiar, much easier to accept. But what if Mrs. Moresby was right? Was there more to her life than she’d believed possible?

Mercy stood behind the closed door of the kitchen. Mr. Scott had already called her several times, letting her know the men were lined up outside and ready to meet with her in the parlor. However, she couldn’t get herself to move.