Deciding the best way to die is not something one ever is taught to consider. It’s a notion my brother’s consider with morbid curiosity, most assuredly but never in the presence of Mama or myself. Never in front of a lady. If I even attempted to walk in on their conversations, the topic would switch to the weather as quickly as one might finish their drink. It is the greatest annoyance of my life to be seen as so delicate that I can’t withstand conversation.
Regardless, my inclusion matters not. What I’m considering is death in appearance only. I don’t actually want to die. I’m unhappy but I still have a hunger for life.
What I’ve come to realize is that the only way out of my current station is through my family’s disgrace or my death. Since the former seems drastically unrealistic given my father’s meticulous business scruples and my mother’s inability to offend anyone, that leaves me one option – Davina Vayne must be believed to be dead. That was the easy decision. The next would be harder: the method of my demise.
Any involvement of staff was sure to get me immediately discovered. Margaret is kind but she is loyal to my family, and I am sure that she would not understand my plight. Nobody seems to understand my distress – let them have my fine things and free time! I want nothing to do with them anymore.
I digress. The method… Anything that causes me actual physical harm would have to be so severe there may very well be no “acting” involved. The risk would be too great. Running away doesn’t solve the problem of there being no body to mourn, and thus a search party would likely be dispatched. I was briefly inspired by Juliet’s attempt in Shakespere’s most famous tragedy but where would I find such a poison? I have no herbalist to attend to me. Not in a way that wouldn’t immediately have me found out.
My mind continues to return to the ramparts, where inspiration first took hold. A fall that would most assuredly kill me but seems the only way to rid myself of this cage and avoid any intense investigation as to the natural state of my body. It would be as if Poseidon himself claimed me and swept me away. There would be nothing to inspect, nothing to question or go awry as a poison wore off.
The easiest lie always starts in truth, and since they already think me prone to falling, fall I shall.
The pieces of my plan have been put into motion. Against my better judgment, I’ve enlisted the aid of my maid. She’s the only one who might help me in gaining any sort of normal clothes with which to blend in. I’ve told her they’re for a role in this season’s Christmas play. This seemed to draw little suspicion, as I’ve been putting on these plays since I was a child. Never mind the fact that it is only October. The acquisition of such garments is critical to my success, and thus I am one step closer to my freedom.
My plan is nearly ready for its execution and my timing could not be more apt! Just last night, mother and father had invited a Lord Alfred Hanover to dine with us. A balding man of middle age with jowls that were barely hidden by his scraggly chin strap. I could only think to myself that the hair on his head must have migrated to his neck. It was most unappetizing, and even more so when I learned this was someone they were considering a match.
A match – for me! It is insulting to think my happiness and future can be reduced down to good hips in exchange for fine investments. It’s no wonder Shakespeare wrote such tragedies. There really is no such thing as love in a world like this.
No matter, I will not be here long enough for anyone to see me in the palest of whites, for tomorrow I am set to “fall”. All is in place and so long as Margaret does not make the connection to the requested clothes weeks ago, I will be a free woman in but two days time, provided this storm stays its course.
The wind is picking up now and I can almost hear it calling to me!
I write to you from the only free stall in a stable outside of town. I dare not risk paying for a room and my face must not be seen until I’m well and away from here but by God, it has worked.
After weeks of planning, I managed to configure the trappings of a makeshift doll. I’d kept her in pieces, stored throughout my room and the estate in the most inconspicuous manner I could. Then, when the time was right, as the storm had subsided yet the ocean still carried its fury, I told Margaret I was to take a walk. She protested, as I suspected, but I told her it would only be inside. This, of course, was a deception and a means of collecting the items I had hidden throughout the house.
First, I collected the pieces– the pillow for her body, the yarn wig I’d made late at night after I’d been tucked in. Had anybody noticed me then, there might have been questions but I have always been rather sneaky and managed to avoid perception.
After this, I made it to a small library, one that I knew was used little given my brothers are more fond of cards than books. It was here I traded my dresses and petticoats for the trousers and a jacket procured prior. The pants were a bit long but I made do by rolling them up. The rest of the clothes I stuffed into a sack which I had pilfered from the kitchen.
Already I felt better. Gone was the weight of expectation with those skirts, and I knew I had to succeed no matter what, so I pressed on.
Next was the hardest part: getting to the ramparts without being spotted.
Most of the exterior entrances of the family’s hall are guarded but I need not remind myself of how sneaky I am. I knew that a particular maid and guard used a certain hour to flirt and would perhaps not see the servant boy and his bundle of laundry hurry outside. And by the universe’s good grace, it was my lucky day! As I peeked around the corridor to confirm my safe passage, I could see the way clear and both of them fumbling awkwardly from an alcove further on. So long as I was quiet, I could make it to the door and through, and so I held my breath and tip-toed along. It was a great feat to have opened the door and not dropped anything but I was of a singular mind and such focus had never before been made manifest in me. Not only did I make it outside without drawing their eyes but I was able to prevent the door from slamming shut or being sucked back open with the window, giving me a window of time to assemble “Davina” and prepare for my escape.
As expected, the wind was still frightful but not so bad as if I’d attempted this during the storm itself. That, of course, would have been impossible and so I was fortunate in my forethought of the part the environs would play.
I moved several paces out onto the walkway and began to display my guise. It was strange how scared I was yet none of it was for the actual scene I was committing to. My fear hinged entirely on its potential to fail. If, in those precious seconds, anyone thought to come outside and patrol, I was doomed. And so, it was this fear that drove me at a startling pace until I had my makeshift mannequin ready and it was time to begin the tableau.
With the pillow shoved into my dress, it seemed hardly believable, but I reminded myself that this was an illusion of distance. The doll would be gone before anyone was close enough to suspect her. I affixed the wig to the top of the pillow with a pin and draped it part of the way over the edge of the rampart, to appear as if I was peering over the side. The dress dangled inward, dusting along the stonework walkway in a believable fashion. I hoped the guard would be so distraught by the skirts going over they would miss the fact that those skirts possessed no legs. It was a risk I had to take.
I slowly backed away from the mannequin and watched as the pillow slowly pulled her over. It was subtle but I had to hope that it would hold but a few seconds more. With one glance out towards the crashing waves, I prayed to whoever might be listening to let my lie hold until I was gone and clear. With that last hope sent, I moved towards the door.
My entry back into the house was to be as stealthy as my exit, save for the moment when I knew I needed to alert the guard. I looked over my shoulder and saw a tug of wind pull the dress a little further and knew this was my moment.
I flung the door open, letting it swing on its hinges and collide with the wall. Such a crash! But the guard’s fumbling out of the alcove and the cry of the maid gave me all the cover I needed as I hurried down the other way to my own hiding spot. I watched from behind a separate alcove and wall hanging as he hurried to close it, only to hear his cry of shock as I can only assume the pillow and dress were pulled over the side.
Down, down, down they must have fallen but I didn’t stay around to be sure. Only the absence of the real Davina would convince them of the lie, and so I fled. As quickly and quietly through the house as I could. It’s quite impressive how oblivious the titled and wealthy are. Had I always been so unaware of a servant’s movements around me? How many times had someone dressed like I was in that moment made it through without drawing anyone’s attention?
I guess I’ll never know, for now I am free of that life and that title. Free to follow the wind and the waves and whatnot choice I make in life.
You might think me a fool, but I know this is not the easy lot in life. Nobody guaranteed that happiness would be easy though. Quite the opposite, I’d wager if I was a betting woman.
Happiness is something you risk everything for.