She doesn't want men. Men are nothing but trouble. They marry and have children and grow older, and venture into the bedrooms of said children and do things that no one should ever do.
She's been told that not all men do this, but how can she be sure?
She doesn't want Simon Middleton. He seems like the perfect gentleman, and that's bad enough, but he isn't behind closed doors. What she sees and feels and experiences behind these doors is rather exhilarating and interesting, but it scares her even more away from men, deep down inside. It gets her thinking, and she doesn't like what she thinks.
She doesn't want a gypsy boy. She likes to lead him on; yes…it's a rather fun game, actually. Sometimes she likes to sneak out of the school around midnight and find him and do things proper school girls shouldn't do, but that is the extent of it. A gypsy boy can't give her anything other than "love" and compliments and kisses.
She sighs now, looking in the mirror, the night before a ball. A maid is in the background, humming and fixing the hem on the dress Felicity is going to wear. It's funny, really. Felicity. Why name someone after a feeling of happiness when all she feels is pain?
Peering into the mirror, she feels herself breaking. She forgot to lock Polly's door last night.
She decides that she doesn't even want herself.