Freedom
Elizabeth let loose a loud sigh as she flopped backwards onto expensive silk bedsheets.
"What's troubling you, Miss, if you don't mind me asking?" her maid queried hesitantly.
Elizabeth just stared blankly at the ceiling, and didn't respond.
"Anything I can do?" the maid pressed on.
"Nothing that any of us can do much about, so there's no use in worrying yourself with it," Elizabeth replied, her words bitter. "I'm sorry, Jane, I didn't mean to snap," she quickly assured upon seeing the girl's expression. "I just…" she trailed off forlornly.
This problem was this: she felt trapped in her own skin these days. This upper-class life, and all the rules, regulations and expectations that accompanied it – far too many to count – weighed down on her shoulders until she felt as if she were Atlas carrying the sky. She didn't know how much more of it she could take, but she supposed she'd have to take it, because as she grew older, the responsibilities and expectations would only grow worse.
Watching Will and the other young apprentices on the streets from her just this afternoon window had been like a glimpse through a portal to another world. An alien one, but still beautiful; one that she longed to live in. She imagined herself splashing in mud after a rain storm, just like they had been. Alas, her father would have a heart attack if he saw her do anything of the sort. How she longed to join them. Those kids didn't have half of the things that she did, but still she was envious of them, for they had one of the few things that really mattered to her: freedom.
Oh, what she would give to take control of her life, to sneak aboard a ship and sail off the edge of the map. At this point, she would gladly drift away to practically anywhere, so long as it was far, far away from this dreaded stone prison she had forced to call home for the last eight or so years.
She was tired of playing the part of a demure and ladylike upper-class woman. She didn't care what any of her Father's wealthy dinner guests though of her, and so it seemed completely unfair and irrational that she should have to pretend to be someone she wasn't and change the way she acted simply because of their outlook and ideals.
But this was the world she lived in: a world where she couldn't speak her mind without enduring their disapproving sneers; a world where climbing trees, exploring, even learning to defend herself in a fight, wasn't permitted simply because it wasn't 'proper' for a lady of her standing.
In her mind, this last one was especially ridiculous. If she was so 'precious' didn't she need to be able to protect herself from harm? She'd informed her father of this, and expressed her wish for Will to teach her to fight, but he had immediately forbidden it.
Her sorry mood had morphed into anger. She decided that while she was right in saying that Jane couldn't do anything to help the situation, there was in fact something she could do herself. It wasn't much, but even this tiny rebellion would be enough to satisfy her for now at least. And so, quick as a flash, had stolen down the stairs and crept out of the house through the servants' passage at the back. She was still in her nightclothes, and the mud on the street clung to her bare feet, but couldn't bring herself to care.
She didn't want to risk getting Will into trouble by getting him to teach her to handle a sword. Surely, though, she could pick up a little by watching him train tonight…