"So it's a small settlement, at least." A village, of sorts, not unlike the country villages in which her family still held estates. Her mother had taken off to one in Scotland, last she'd heard, and Elizabeth occasionally envied her the freedom. She had no such freedom. And yet there was this place, a blank slate, a tableau of endless days spread before her with no red box and no weight of the crown to hold her in place.

Freedom, occasionally, could feel like a prison.

"What sort of economy is there? Money, trade?"