Unwittingly

Two

Somewhere with a Monarchy, 1835

My mother was insistent on training me everyday leading up to the betrothal celebration in palace manners, equitique, and dancing. I'm a noblewoman and I have known how to to dance since I was five. Apparently, my mother thinks I don't do it right.

"No, no! Emray! You need to spin after the music changes! Not before or during the change!" my mother yelled for the fourth time today. The sitting room had been transformed into a miniature ballroom.

"Mother," I groaned, "my feet hurt, this dress is getting heavy, and I've been practicing for three hours!"

"Darling, if you are to catch the eye of the prince you must be perfect. Complaining just won't do," my mother clicked her tongue and motioned for me to practice again.

I went through the the steps while my mother counted the beats. For the first time, I think I satisfied her. The steps by themselves were simple, but putting all the steps together made it much harder.

"Wonderful! That one was wonderful!" my mother praised, coming over and hugging me, but pulling away almost immediately when she felt how sweaty I was. "You need to go and wash up now, darling."

"Yes, mother," I replied, joyfully taking off my heels and going up the grand staircase.

Because my family is on the richer side, we have indoor plumbing. As a result of the running water, my family and I don't need an outhouse or outdoor tap. It was really convenient when I needed to, let's say, clean hours of perspiration off of one's body.

My mother was becoming a tyrant. My real dress and corset were heavy, but the dress, corset, and petticoat my mother had me practicing in were much more weighty. 

Making sure to close the bathroom door behind me, I peeled off my layers and stepped into the bathtub. The water was freezing, but I was used to it. It was better than bathing in icy water outside of my house, where neighbors could look in between the picket sections and easily see me. 

After I cleaned myself, and I didn't smell like sweat anymore, I got out of the tub and dried off. I didn't bother with a corset or petticoat, instead choosing some breeches and a blouse. It was unusual for a woman of my stature to own pants, let alone wear them, but they were far more comfortable than dresses, corsets, and petticoats. And heels. Oh, the horror of wearing heels all day.

The betrothal celebration was set to take place at the palace, so starting in two days, I would stay at the palace for the time it took to finish the betrothal celebration. The thing was, since the prince was involved this year, it would last as long as it took for him to find a match. I definitely couldn't wait to arrive at the palace and watch girls throw themselves at him for five days or more. Depending on how long it took for him to find the perfect bedmate. That's all he cared about- someone who would do it with him whenever he pleased. I could almost guarantee that Prince Damien wasn't looking for a beautiful mind, he was looking for a beautiful body. And it disgusted me.

Walking downstairs barefoot, I was almost guaranteed a faint from my mother at my appearance. She never let me anywhere with breeches on, but I wanted to fence today, while my father was home, and so she couldn't stop be or break my resolve.

I threw my dark hair into a ponytail and walked to the one room in the house I was never allowed in. I didn't know why, but my father was scary whenever he was mad, so I never asked nor investigated. 

I knocked on the door and waited for him to exit the office and close the door behind him. While his back was turned, I inhaled the smell of parchment and ink. As a woman, I was not allowed to have access to paper or ink, but ever since I was small, I have loved the smell of both. The only thing better was the smell of new fabric or cut grass. The latter only happened every once in a while, unfortunately.