Slowly the mighty huntress sneaks through the environment, her silent footsteps staggered to break up the motion. Ducking low, she waits for the moment to strike, her hand reaching out for the prey’s young. Careful…careful…now! With sudden violence, the huntress snags the young, then makes a mad dash for the-
“Victoria Marie Blythe, you will put those cookies back right this moment.”
Ducking my head, I turned and put the two cookies in my hand back on the tray, while a partially eaten conquest hid my smile. Seeing the treat in my mouth, Emma smiled and shooed me away while snagging one of her own. While Emma might act like my mother, she was the same age as my sister, just two years older than me. Chewing the remains of my cookie quickly, I gave her a lopsided grin then I tramped through the servant's hallway back to the family wing. Ms. Northrop hated whenever I used the servant ways, but if I wanted to stay away from her, then they were my best option.
Leaving Emma working industriously to make the lunch meal, as well as baking treats for dinner, I stopped at the back stairway to listen for the sound of heels and the swish of petticoats. Leaning on the dark oak handrail of the narrow stairs, I strained for the sounds of Ms. Northrop’s stern voice. I wished to avoid her at all costs. I had been free for the last few hours from her comments, her scowl, and her cutting ways. It wasn’t that the Governess was evil or abusive, I couldn't stand that we had a Governess assigned to us at all. We were nearly adults -the wedding of my sister was to be the day after tomorrow- but still, our father had appointed someone to watch and control us. Though, given the fading faculties of Owen, it was not that surprising that Father had wanted a woman assigned to us. We wouldn’t want tongues wagging back in London after all.
Slinking up the stairs, I waited at the top to see if the distant voice of Ms. Northrop was in the family wing tea room, or closer to the sitting rooms and bedrooms. When her voice faded on my ascent, I smiled and then made a soft-footed rush to my room. Closing the wooden door to my room, I started to gently spin around in my bedroom with my arms held out at the joy of outwitting my watcher. Not that my escape from my lessons had been some significant adventure. With my sister to be wed shortly, I had become a low priority victim of Ms. Northrop’s verbal lashings. The thought of what I would experience when my sister lived with her new husband though, filled me with dread. Ms. Northrop’s wrath over my ‘silly childish acts’ and ‘brutish and uncouth behavior’ were already long-winded tirades. I doubted her recriminations would shorten when my sister was no longer a target.
Quickly, I reached my limit for spinning. It was mostly knowing that it would be disagreed with rather than the act itself, that I enjoyed. Still, my smile almost split my face as I ceased then opened my wardrobe and reached for my pride and joy. Hidden in the back of the closet, tucked beneath the hanging dresses, was a medium sized chest usually reserved for accessories like belts and pins. Struggling with the cumbersome box, I pulled my treasure chest out of the wardrobe and onto the floor. I waited, listening to see if I would hear someone approaching, this was the most critical moment. Being caught before, or after, would matter little, but being found with my secret exposed, that would be my undoing.
Finding nothing to suggest an imminent visit, I pulled on the small metal design on the outside of the box. Opening the chest, I removed the false bottom and exposed the treasure hidden inside. Reaching in, I smiled as I grasped my pride and joy. The pants I pulled loose from the depths of the chest were plain. They had no lace, no frills, and the thick linen was rough against my skin, but they meant more than all my pretty dresses combined. These pants were cut to my exact figure and hid my feminine curves while allowing for a full range of motion. With these, I could run through the forest or climb the hills and trees. I wouldn’t be forced to sit daintily sipping tea on a picnic outing, no, I would be free to explore and adventure. Well, as much experience as I could obtain in the small woods a mile from our summer mansion. Combined with the loose white, buttoned-up shirt and cap, I could pretend to be some young man out on a lark.
Pulling out my pants, and tucking away the chest with its secret compartment, I stuffed my adventuring clothes under a pile of fabric within the depths of my wardrobe. The design of my pants came from reports of what the women of the Dress Reform Movement wore. That is, what little I could glean from the paper’s scandalized comments on the style.
The plan was to wait for Robert’s arrival tomorrow, with whatever invention or curio he was sure to bring, and then sneak out as everyone else was tied up with preparing for the wedding. Given the rushed nature of the marriage -Robert’s family needing a sudden influx of funds because of a failed shipment of tea- the few people here would be unlikely to notice my absence. I frowned as I thought of Robert and his less frequent visits.
I still yearned for the days of our youth. Annie, Emma, and I would play in the garden while Emma’s mom Sophia would watch us. We would dance and sing together as if no social caste separated us. Robert would join us while his uncle would trade tall tales with Father. We grew up together playing as if we were all the same. It wasn’t until Father was called back to India by the Queen, and Sophia died that things had fallen apart. Suddenly, Emma was no longer a friend, but a servant expected to take her mother’s place as the head maid. Sure, it was an important position, and it meant Emma was clothed and fed, and in the future could find a husband, but it also meant Annie, and I could no longer talk to her as an equal. The change in Emma’s station was worse for Robert though.
Sniffling, I dabbed at my eyes before turning away from the past and what was. Quickly I checked my dress, smoothing out any wrinkles which might have formed while kneeling to remove my treasures. Finding my appearance was appropriate I decided to see if I could manage to sneak back to the library without Ms. Northrop being the wiser. Opening the door to my room I listened, then exited and dashed into the hallway, passing Owen without slowing. Owen just smiled, his back bent slightly and his balding head shiny under the lights of the oil lamps. While Owen had slowed down and become forgetful of late, I still could see the friendly butler of my father hiding within the older man. With Father posted so long in the Indian colonies, Owen practically raised us in our teenage years or failed to, given Ms. Northrop's view on the subject.
My silent dash was almost interrupted by Northrop's voice changing in volume, but I managed to turn the corner into the library before the Governess entered the hall outside the library. Quickly utilizing the key for the gas lamp on the wall, I tucked my dress under my legs and sat in front of the large oak desk in the library. I pulled the tome on the history of dressage closer; its weight and tight penmanship making the book a difficult chore to slog through. Flipping to any page near the middle, I hunched over slightly and pretended to read, trying desperately to calm my breathing.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Victoria, I will thank you not to rush about the house and skip your studies. I do not have the time to deal with your flights of fancy. Your sister is soon to be wed, and she is still failing to make many important decisions,” said Ms. Northrop as she entered the library, seemingly uncaring of my apparent studying.
“I am studying Ms. Northrop, and I will have you know, I find your accusation distasteful,” I said with my most prim and proper voice.
Frowning, Ms. Northrop marched across the library, her light blue dress swishing and emphasizing the sounds of her hard shoes on the wooden flooring. Stopping before me, she smiled tightly then pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped a bit of cookie crumb from my lips. I couldn’t help but frown at both the evidence of my guilt as well as the way she treated me like a child. Yes, I was sometimes childish, I knew it, but I was sixteen, and capable of studying at my own pace without being watched and brooded over.
“Now, I can’t distract myself with your antics. Your father wishes for this wedding to go forward and your sister has no one else to stand for her in her mother's place. I will be focusing on her needs, and I do not have the time to deal with your games. For your sister’s sake, behave, please,” Ms. Northrop asked, her voice becoming more mothering and sweet by the end.
She wasn’t fooling me.
While she could sound sweet and kind, it was no more than her skills in acting. I had watched her over months slowly whittle away at the household’s staff. Instead of ten people caring for the summer mansion and another ten for the London home, the two locations had a workforce of six spread between them. Her sarcastic comments and vile treatment had cost us butlers, cooks, and maids. Poor Emma was working as both Head Maid and Cook alone; how she planned to prepare such a large meal for the wedding was beyond me. While the wedding was small and ‘intimate,’ rushed because of the financial struggles of Robert's family, it was still going to seat more than twenty guests from his family alone. The real tragedy was that Father would not be here; Annie was instead to be given away by Robert’s Uncle. Colonel Markus Collingwood was a dear friend of the family, loved by both of us, but he still wasn’t Father.
Staring me down as if waiting for a response, Ms. Northrop waited for an uncomfortable time before turning with a swish of her dress and leaving the library. The worst part of Northrop’s lessons was how remote they were. I wasn’t to learn about dressage, no, I was to learn about the history of dressage. I didn’t learn natural philosophy, no, I was to learn about the people involved in the study thereof. It was always one step removed from the exciting bits. I learned the history of Nobility, but never the stories of the battles they fought in. Unlike Father’s or the Colonel’s stories, those focused almost solely on the action.
I tried to return myself to my studies, but my attention was drawn to the window and the courtyard outside. The sound of a horse and the Colonel’s customary booming voice had me flying from my seat and out of the library. Flinging myself through the hallways and to the entranceway, I threw back the large double doors and myself down the stone stairs. My mansion slippers crunched along the crushed stone courtyard for the few paces needed until I could toss my arms around the Colonel. I snugged my face under his chin, his right arm holding his sword cane to the side while he roared his usual laugh of greeting.
“Oh, Victoria my girl, you’re growing. Soon your hugs will knock this old man down!” he roared with his usual bellow. His hearing was nearly gone with his many years leading the cannon division under Father which left him as a loud and boisterous man. A limp from a stray musket round and hearing loss were his only real injuries from his military service. He would often joke that he was glad for the leg wound since it gave him his ‘wife,’ ‘Eloise,’ the sword cane Father presented to him upon retirement.
“What are you doing here Colonel? I thought you and Robert wouldn’t be here until tomorrow? Isn’t Robert afraid of the ‘impropriety’?” I asked while hanging off Colonel Markus Collingwood, watching what Robert was pulling from the top of the carriage.
“That’s why I’m here. With Ms. Northrop and me as chaperones, no one could claim any such thing. It’s not like this mansion isn’t large enough for a whole brigade of us with room to spare, we never need even rub elbows with such a bunking!”
When Robert pulled down from the carriage a metal frame and then two wooden wheels, one with a set of peddles and the other without, I gasped in delight. Robert just smiled as he continued to pull down trunks and other baggage. Rufus, the son of our stablemaster, was directed to the frame and wooden wheels and told to place them in the barn. Phillip, Rufus’s father, climbed up on the carriage and led the horses into the barn. I was almost unable to contain myself at the sight of the wooden frame and the two large metal wheels. I had heard stories of the newer version of the device but had been afraid I would never see one, but as usual, Robert delighted in everything technical and had procured one for demonstration.
“Is that the French style Velocipede? You know it has been nicknamed as the ‘boneshaker’! Please, can I ride it? Please!” I wheedled.
Robert smiled at me, his arms full of a luggage trunk. Before he could promise me a try at the new style bicycle, my hopes were dashed by Ms. Northrop.
“Heavens no! That device is most unladylike. It would be one thing if it were one of the four-wheeled devices, those can be used in a most lady-like manner, but a dandy-horse? No.”
While the Colonel made small talk with Ms. Northrop, and Robert carried his and his uncle's luggage inside, I stood there and gazed forlornly at the barn. It would be wonderful to watch his demonstration with the new conveyance, but I itched to ride it myself. I knew it wouldn’t be a comfortable ride, the nickname of ‘boneshaker’ made sense with hard wooden wheels and little suspension, but the very nature of it would make it an adventure. I could almost feel the wind through my hair as I flew around the courtyard in my mind.
When Rufus placed the frame against one of the stalls inside the barn, just within view, I decided. I would wait until everyone was distracted inside the house, then I would try my hand at riding the velocipede.