Leave a comment for the author I didn't remain helpless. I am never helpless, for my father taught me to look after my own needs. I sat down on my large bed, brushing back the curtains, and started thinking, and then started looking through my closets. They were deep and filled with beautiful garments I loved. Though I despise shopping, I dearly love dressing in finery, and the feel of silk rushing about my hips and calves has tempted me more than once to forego the chemise I am supposed to wear with it. I did not, however, care for the stiff whale-bone corsets. They pressed my spine miserably, and crushed my bosom until I could not breathe in order to get the proper space and height for each of my breasts. I thought them ridiculous devices, but my maid and Papa insisted that I wear them, and Papa supplied me well. Thus it came about that I had a round dozen corsets, and each with a long set of strong lacings. There are few cords that are as strong as stay-lace, and it took but an hour's work for me to tie them together, braid them down into a nice rope, and then slide my rope under the bed to wait for nightfall. It was like making lace for my mother, tedious and needing to be redone a dozen times, but I was never so grateful for women's knowledge. Though I was afraid of interruptions, there was nothing to fear. I finished them and noticed the day was growing late and I had no means to light my candle -- an inconvenience. There was little to do. I used my chamberpot, then left it near the door as was my habit and sat back down to think on my plans for that evening, rising every so often to pack something away in the bag I planned to take. It was almost dark before a pair of footmen came to the door with my maid, and she left me some dinner and took away the pot. I had a clean one slipped in within five minutes, and then they were gone again, not a word spoken by any of us. I wonder that Papa was not suspicious of my silence. I suppose he was just grateful that for once I seemed to accept my fate. I lay back on my bed, eyes open, listening to the murmurs of the servants, and, from the far-off stable, the soft lows and whickers that floated through my window through a trick of the humid air outside. At last the house stilled, and the lights I could see glowing to illuminate the lawn were doused one by one. I had about an hour before the moon rose, and it would be a full one tonight. After pulling trousers on beneath my skirts, I kilted my dress, pulled out my portmanteau packed with some clothes and all my money and jewelry, and dropped the rope out the window. It was too easy. Papa did not give me enough credit. I slithered down the rope like a jib monkey, yanked it to release the knot - who knew when I'd need a rope again? - and slipped away into the dark. I didn't dare stop by the stables for a horse, but my favorite stallion was at stud two miles up the road, and I could fetch him easily enough. As it happened, though, I didn't need to do that. I spotted a dark shadow moving toward me from the orchard next to the house, and I knew that whoever it was had seen me. I decided that brazening it out was the best course of action, and so I strolled up to him, hoping to at least get a blow in and have a chance of escaping. A familiar voice spoke in a whisper. "Anne?" "James!" I said louder than I intended. "Hush. I was coming for you, but clearly you've made your own escape." He put his arms around me and pulled me tight. The clean tar smell of him made me feel better instantly, and I could feel my desire rising. |
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