Society's Expectations & Too Many Complications {Finalist}

Chapter 1

London, England. 1814

Two Years Later

The sounds of our rapiers clinking together echoed around the weapons yard. I blocked the swift attack and swung my own weapon towards him. Blade against blade clashed together and I could feel my hair slipping slightly from my carefully arranged wig. I had to end this.

I parried and then swung my sword through the air, a direct arc to his neck. At the last second, his fencing weapon spun up to meet mine and I hissed in frustration. Leaving him no time to recover, I began a ferocious sequel of blows which he scrambled to defend. In two more decisive strokes through the air, the tip of my sword pressed slightly into his neck.

"And once more, I have won." I smiled triumphantly at the tall and handsome man opposing me. With the tousled brown locks and tempting hazel eyes, he was extremely dashing - not that the boy mattered to me. Not in the romantic way, at least.

"My dear friend, do not flatter yourself," Sebastian teased. "With my right arm being indisposed, it is no surprise that I would be terrible at swordplay. My left arm is regrettably but a servant to my masterful right."

"Do not spoil my fun," I remarked mullishly. "You know as well as I do, that these blissful victories of mine will be the only ones I can gloat upon whence your arm returns to its former glory."

"It is the only knowledge which prevents me from throwing down my sword and engaging you in an unsightly game of wrestling," he sallied back in a roguish manner. I scowled at him; he knew very well that I would be no competitor in a fight of bare arms. Fie, I would embarass myself with my utter lack of expertise.

"You are improving, Charles," our aged instructor - Franklin - complimented me, as he strolled out from the main pavilion. "Everyday I see those weak arms of yours grow with muscle."

"You are too kind," I replied, then realized that I had not abandoned my usual girlish tone and manners. "I mean, I trained extremely hard."

My method of living was terribly complicated now. After the... incident two years ago, I had ran and ran until my legs could no longer support me. I had reached a small town by name of Sunbury and rested at a tavern. I found myself in a carriage - on the way home - in the morning. My father had already sounded the alarm and I had been sold out by the tavern-keeper.

I had deserted the pretty language and fancies of the young lady, and hidden my brunette hair under an ugly hat. Shedding my skin of the unneeded blush and perfumes, I had grown tougher and led a secret life. Now, I had two sides.

One, was the lady: Rosalia. She spoke in a refined manner, attended all the lunches and balls and acted as a true lady does. (For the most part). The other, was: Charlie. Derived from my middle name - Charlotte - Charlie was a girl clothed as a boy and did as gentlemen do. The member of the exclusive 'Gentlemens' Club' where sword-fighting and wrestling were the sport of the men, and - betraying its name - the bindings of society were ripped away to enjoy some rip-roaring fun. Charlie enjoyed herself very much with the 'down and dirty' way at the 'Gentlemens' Club'.

But, as she was a duke's daughter, there were standards to live up to. No daughter of a distinct line of royalty would behave in such a coarse and unladylike way. That would be a terrible disgrace! So, I had my public face of the glorious and gorgeous Rosalia, and the hidden and mysterious one of Charles, or more affectionately known as Charlie.

I was the only person party to my secret, save the dastardly Sebastian. That impudent boy had found me, clothing myself in the rough wearings of a boy and had discovered my secret. I had begged him not to betray me and he had acceded to my request. Now, he referred to my little change of characters with a twinkle in his hazel eyes and an ever-ready teasing remark at the ready.