A/N: Below is an excerpt from the article that gave me a good chunk of inspiration for this story and also gave me the title of this story.
I'm certainly not suggesting that all people who go missing are hiding such a deep secret, from themselves and others, but the longer I think about that liminal space of being invisible from those who create the pressures that make us who we are and not who we deeply desire to be, the more I understand why we run.
From "How to Disappear", by Alex DiFrancesco (published on Longreads. Easily Googleable, or you can also check out the link on AO3.)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
21 June 1532
Elizabeth could run and jump quite actively now, although most of the time she preferred to adopt a stately walk. She had a dignity that even Mary had not possessed at her age, as Mother said teasingly. Right now, however, she was frolicking in the summer sunlight, delighted to be visiting her cousin Owen at Ludlow and playing in the gardens with him and her brother Edward. Owen was toddling, and Edward had just recently taken his first stumbling steps.
Mary smiled at her capering siblings and then turned away, leaving them in the care of the ladies-in-waiting as she began walking towards the front of the castle.
It had been over a year now since Arthur's execution, and nearly three since he came back to life - exactly three, Mary realized with a start, as today marked the third anniversary of the Blackfriars Trial. Mother's mourning time was over, and she could finally cast off her widow's reeds. "I dyed so many of my gowns black," she had remarked to Mary, "that at this rate I shall have to overhaul my wardrobe in full!"
As Arthur's stepdaughter, Mary had not been compelled to wear mourning clothes, and she was saved from her mother's trouble, but she was still replenishing her wardrobe and critically examining her dresses. She was sixteen now, and beginning to think about her own marriage. Tentative offers had been coming in ever since she was officially redeclared a princess.
She would also have to begin covering her hair. French hoods were currently fashionable at court, thanks to Queen Anne's influence, and now that Anne was visiting Ludlow with her children, Mary might ask her for some designs.
They could also discuss the monasteries in person; Mary had discovered, to her surprise and delight, that her stepmother was committed to deciding how best to reform the religious communities while also not disenfranchising them. Mary's experience with her tenants on the More and at Ludlow had taught her how the common people viewed the monasteries, and she and Anne had been corresponding through letters on the issue.
Anne had mentioned in her last letter that during her stay at Ludlow, she would consider giving Mary control of two nearby monasteries. That thrilled Mary, as she had been needing a new personal project. Until now, she had been occupied by running Owen's household herself, but she was about to cede control.
A company of staff from Aunt Margaret's household was also visiting today.
Mary reached the front courtyard just as the carriage rode in, kicking up pebbles and dust. She knew that Mother would have liked to greet them, but she was a duchess in her own right. It would look strange for her to show such eagerness at the arrival of a small group of servants from her sister-in-law's household, especially when she had the King and Queen to entertain. Therefore Mary was doing the honors of receiving them in her capacity as lady of the house.
The head groomsman bowed deeply to the Princess Mary, introducing himself as Matthew Pelham. She held out her hand for him to kiss, noting as he made obeisance that his hair was a dull muddy brown, but with hints of red. He smiled at her when he had risen from his bow, and Mary could tell there was genuine relief behind it, as well as courtesy.
"I hear that young Owen is a strapping young lad," he said, after they had exchanged courtesies.
Mary laughed. "Don't flatter the little lord overmuch. He still kicks up a fuss when offered boiled fish."
Master Pelham looked at the grass where the children were playing at a distance. A raw longing filled his eyes - eyes that were the same blue as her father's.
Mary's heart tugged at the sight, but they were in public, and she could not allow him to gaze overlong. Tactfully, she called his attention back. "Still, my brother is getting old enough that he can no longer be raised among the women. We are looking for a governor of his household, and a new steward."
Master Pelham turned back with a start, blinking before he registered her words. "Indeed, I did come to offer my services to your brother. But," he said, holding out his arm for Mary to take, "from what I have heard of how you run his household, I think I shall be almost surplus to requirements. Young Owen could have done much worse than to be in the care of his sister the Princess."
His face was soft with gratitude and affection, and despite her efforts to keep her regal bearing, Mary could feel a swell of happiness making itself known on her countenance. She took his arm, and together, they set off towards the front door of the manor.