Far From A Lady

Chapter 1

My parasol lay on my shoulder. Its short lace decorating the hem and adding a delicate feel to my overall appearance. This morning, I had done my hair in an elegant bun,  and my pink dress fell just above my feet - something you definitely don't see in 'polite' society. 

We were taking a turn around the garden. Short words were exchanged but not much. The gravel beneath my feet became increasingly more interesting as another single line of dialogue died out into the silence yet again. The trees seemed to stand taller and my arm grew more tired with every second. Trying to make this work was the most draining thing I had ever done in my life.

We climbed the cold, stone steps to our fathers. They looked at us expectantly without a smile or properly acknowledging us. I was used to this by now and had been for quite some time. The boy beside me began the conversation with a typical greeting, which somehow led to the topic of marriage arising 

"She is quite the beauty." The Duke admitted although I'm not quite sure whether it was to just humor my father or out of utter honesty. These people have barely spoken a word of truth since they crawled out of the womb.

"Yes, I am quite sure she will make an excellent bride." His son confirmed. My smile never haltered.

18 is a funny age. You have everyone expecting you to be something you're not. In my case, my father is expecting me to be a wife. The son of the Duke seems quite content in the idea of marrying me, but I'm afraid his ideals are not met on my part. The union is due this coming spring, as I learned as the conversation went on, and I can't say I'm exactly thrilled. Not that I could do anything about it. It's my father's decision to make.

The anger boiled within me and I allowed it freedom of my movements, I turned to my father in disgust. "I am a girl not incompetent!" Dropping his arm, I looked at the boy with more courage than I knew was possible. "There will be no marriage."

He has brown hair and eyes to match. His slim figure hidden behind his waistcoat and overcoat. I suppose he is pleasant to look at, but I spend most of my time imagining what I will do once I'm rid of him. The boy is of little intellect and extremely ill-mannered. Not to mention his lack of care for manners when he speaks and Lord knows when he opens his mouth there is no shutting it. He is not the best company either; I have met animals that pique my interest more than an afternoon with him.

"Your daughter has quite the mouth, doesn't she?" He mused.

"Please for-" My father began.

"What's in my head is far stronger than what's between your legs, sir. Perhaps you would like me to prove it?" I stood my ground, a highly dangerous move I must admit.

"I'm afraid my child has a habit of speaking out of turn, although, I suspect that should not last very long." I received a short glare. One, I have to admit, I was expecting.

"I should hope not. My son should at the very least be able to expect a little silence." The Duke stated bluntly.

I was far from shocked. Words could not form in my mouth or my mind, all I knew was rage. These foolish people seem to have it in their heads that what is between my legs dictates my life but I will not be told who I am. I shall show them the strength they deem me unfit to bear and as God as my witness, I will prove his kindness and faith is not misplaced.

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The atmosphere became almost unbearable once we were deeper into the house. Our guests had left shortly after my outburst, much to my delight. 

 "You insolent child!" My father bellowed as he slapped me. "No daughter of mine will disgrace me in such a manner again."

"If this is what it means to be your daughter, I want no part of it."

He grabbed my arm, dragging me off to the pit. It's a small gap in between the wall of the kitchen and the wall of the living room. He had installed a custom door with lock and key for times such as this.

"You will come out of here when you learn to be a proper young lady." He thrust me into the pit, locked the door, and left.

I had managed to loosen a few bricks, unnoticeable in either room and carved out the center to make a store. It had taken me a very long time. Perhaps a year or so, but I was in here every other day it seemed, so I had plenty of time. Inside I kept a great many things.

One brick held the necklace my mother died wearing, in other words, the necklace she wore when giving birth to me. It also held her picture and her wedding ring.

The second held a letter bundle she had written me in case she would not live to see even my 1st birthday. I am to open the corresponding letter on each birthday until my 20th and afterward one on each day of significance.

The third brick holds some food, in case I am in here a little longer than expected. Father sometimes leaves me in here for a week or so and I have to eat at some point; even if he doesn't wish to feed me. The fourth holds a candle with a box of matches and the fifth stores my journal.

I put everything away in my pockets, put the bricks back, and made my way to the back of the pit. There was a piece of wood that can be moved rather easily if you have small hands like me. Once you move it, you have a hidden exit out of the house.

I have planned this day for a while. Since I was around 14 when I first found this way out. I planned every detail; I even made sure I had a place to go. I snuck out a while ago and made some friends, they said once I finally got away I could stay with them.

The stone walls lead down to where the kitchen was originally supposed to be, however the builders made a few mistakes and they had to rebuild quite a lot of the area. Unfortunately, they had already installed some drawers in the wall that could not be moved, this, however, was very good for me.

Mary had given me one of her dresses and a shawl so I could blend in more when I visited. I kept them in these drawers and sometimes used the shawl to keep warm during the nights in here. The other drawers were empty, I had nothing else really to keep in there.

I changed into my dress, wrapped the shawl around me, and put what little I had into my pockets. It's not like I have a lot anyway, father hardly ever allows me to read or to do anything other than practice to be the 'perfect bride' and it's not like I can go into town when I please. I am his prisoner rather than his daughter.

That's why I get into so much trouble, so I can escape for a few hours - maybe even days. The mind needs time to be free.

I make up all sorts of stories. You see I have always had a good imagination even without books, it's always something I have prided myself on. Although, father can never know. I dread to think what he would do if he ever found out.

I quickly make my way out of the passage and down the old dirt path. Wildflowers grow by the side; forget-me-nots and that sort of thing. Father never comes down here, it reminds him far too much of Mother. Apparently, I look like her but in every photograph, I see of her, I do not see my mother. I see the woman I killed. Not intentionally of course, but she died so suddenly after my birth; I can't help but feel it's my fault. I can tell father does too. The look in his eyes speaks louder than his words. The disgust and hatred.

The forest looks ever so lovely up close. The leaves are a gorgeous shade of green and the trunks of the trees are ever so high. The sunlight shining through simply emphasizes the feeling of home. This safety and hope that I have longed for since I could walk.

And here I find myself in the midst of town. The streets are crowded with all sorts of people; young and old. Posters on the walls show women dancing in beautiful dresses. Carts being drawn by horses far stronger than myself and shops of all sizes and types, leave me thrilled for my new adventure. So here begins my story. The story of my life.