Freeing Arabella

Chapter One

"To live would be an awfully big adventure." --Peter Pan

Arabella couldn’t think of much that she loved in the world.

This was due mostly to the unfortunate fact that she lived with the LeBlancs. The LeBlancs had kept her from most things in the world, sheltering like you would quarantine a man with a dreadful disease. They’d said it was to keep her protected from the vast horrors that the world have to offer; that they couldn’t bear to see their darling Arabear get hurt. But how could they even fathom her pain, if she’d never even experienced the feeling before? Everything in her life had been numb, except for the excruciating pain of her maid, Hanna, tightening her corset, or perhaps even when her tea had been prepared to hot. But nothing in her life quite had the zest or the beauty she’d imagined and hoped it to, like she’d read about in her books. She yearned to have the exciting life of a bandit, or a pirate on the sea, going nowhere in particular—only knowing that you were free.

But if there had to be a single thing she admired, she thought, it’d most likely be her long, red hair. There was a certain tumble to their curls that fell just right bellow her chest, and the way it seemed to shine in the midday sun, like it was its own source of light. And if there was a second thing, it’d have to be her beloved, raggedy teddy bear that she’d clung to her side since she could ever remember. She’d named it Pinkie, although she could not recall why; all she knew was that it was a gift from her birth mother, and simply holding it to her heart made Arabella feel a sort of closeness to her mother that she’d never really receive. And she knew this, because her adoptive parents—Gregory and Eustace—had said on multiple occasions that they’d died in a carriage accident, abandoning her on the cobblestone pathway, crying and sobbing with poor, raggedy Pinkie clutched tightly in her tiny hand.

And as she sat in front of her vanity mirror, stroking her long, red hair quietly, Arabella could see a glint in the bear’s single remained buttoned eye. The other had fallen off, cut away from years of play. It sat next to her, on the table, its presence able to soothe her like nothing else could. Arabella heard her door click behind her, and slinking her way in came her maid, Hanna, carrying her best clothes and a ridiculous corset. Arabella gave it a disgusted look, setting her brush down. She had always hated the dreadful thing.

As she stood up, Arabella couldn’t help but wonder why it was exactly why she was being allowed to attend this party. In most cases, when her parents would throw a party—and that was quite often—Arabella would be ordered to her room, told not to make a sound. But now, Hanna was holding out an exquisite gown of soft green silk and lace to Arabella, as if it was second nature.

“Miss LeBlanc,” Hanna said awkwardly, although Arabella knew where it was leading. Needing for her not to say more, Arabella turned around and let her nightgown drop to her feet, dressed only in her undergarments. Hanna fetched the corset and began the awful task of tightening it till Arabella felt stiff as a board, and like every one of her bones had been tugged inwards.

“Hanna,” Arabella said, her voice strained and begging for air. She rarely ever wore corsets—she took them off when her mother wasn’t supervising her—and the only times she’d ever don them is when she’d have her tutor come over, who was an impressionable young woman who would no doubt tattle on her, or when she went on those rare outings with her mother, usually to fetch the groceries. Arabella sqeaked, “could you loosen that a bit?”

“My apologies,” Hanna said, sounding truly sympathetic. She tugged again, wincing this time when Arabella yelped. “But it’s the Mistress’s orders.”

 Arabella drew in a sharp breath of air, coughing as Hanna jerked the strings, tightening it. She securely tied it, and hurriedly retrieved Arabella’s gown, appearing at her sides in a matter of moments to help her in it.