Liberation

Liberation

Victorian Aristocratic London, 1888. The Kane Estate.

Have you ever wanted to teleport away from a certain place as far and as fast as you possibly could? You could do anything. Tour anywhere. Be whoever you would like to be. Be with whomever you would like to be with... Absolute and utter bliss. No early courtship at the age of 16 by much too old men looking for a young wife and mother to produce heirs. No tea parties orchestrated to introduce you as "out" in society. Those girls at tea are absolutely dreadful, gossiping harpies that they are. And, overall, No. More. Dress. Fittin-

"Ow!" I sucked a breath through my rose-stained lips and glared at the woman currently using me as a pin cushion.

Madame Victoire, the best and most well known professional seamstress of this day and age. Also known as my tormentor. She has, unfortunately, been with my family for as long as I needed my first dress tailored, and will probably stay for several years to come. She does not look a day over forty even though I'm sure she is well into her late sixties. With her just slightly greyed brunette locks,ivory skin, and perfect posture; I sometimes wonder if she is immortal. I, too, would be crabby if I had to work for more than a lifetime as a seamstress. Of course mother and father had to have the best even if she is a witch. Said woman glared back with twice as much menace.

" Lady Emmeline," She sounded as if she were scolding a toddler. " If you were not daydreaming, much like you always do, my needle would not have met flesh. I suggest you hold still before your beautiful garment is stained crimson."

I set my aristocratic shoulders into a posture that my mother would be proud of, folded my hands, and barely contained a huff of frustration. Madame Victoire nods in approval and sets back to working on the hand sewed ivory swirls on the bodice that I requested. I try to internalize my annoyance. I'm quite sure she acted out of spite. It was not a fault of mine that caused her to nick my poor skin with her sewing needle. She was most definitely right about one thing though, the gown I sent to be constructed and fitted is absolutely stunning. I don't particularly want to be courted, nor do I want to attend a ball, but if I have no choice I'm going to be breathtaking.

I chose my coming out ball gown as a cross between deep navy and impactful cobalt silks to match my eyes. For aesthetic, ivory assets span the bodice in delicate tasteful patterns. I thought maybe cream or ivory lace added to the bottom of my hefty skirts to offset some of the blue tones would be a nice touch as well. Though this would be a controversial option. Ink black hair, fair complexion, and blue skirts at a ball? Atrocious!! Unheard of!! It's an outrage!! Blah, Blah, Blah. I felt my lips curve bitterly at the idiocy of high society and how I'm going to be able to rebel in my own little way. It'll make quite a statement while still being somewhat appropriate so my mother does not flay me alive for embarrassing her. Maybe all of the eligible men will find my lack of subserviency to societie's idiotic trends repulsive and leave me alone. That sounds absolutely lovely. I just want to escape and be free to live my life with the one I want. I want to be able to inherit my mother's title as the only heir. I want to live by my standards and nobody else's but mine. The unattainable fantasy I've concocted is interrupted by a soft, short, and mannered knock at the door.

" Come in!" , I call out excitedly. I just manage to stop myself from being overly giddy lest I fidget and receive a stab from Madame Victoire's torture device once more.

I know that knock.

Even though I'm sure she is most likely fetching me per Mother's request or cleaning my chamber, because god forbid the Kane Estate have a single speck of dust! I cannot help how I feel. I do not want to help it. Lilith, or Lily, Williams, My maid and my love, walks through the engraved wooden door.