Izzy looked longingly across the street at a pair of beautiful, white, silk pants in the window of the tailor's shop. They were leaning against the wood exterior of the local dressmaker’s shop, arms folded in obvious displeasure. Beth was with them, clearly trying to stay still so she wouldn’t look unladylike. Instead of pacing like a normal person, Beth was quietly picking at her cuticles.
“I’m sorry Chandra won’t let you go to the ball,” Izzy said.
Beth looked up from her fingernails and gave Izzy a small smile before looking back down. Izzy sighed. They knew Beth would try to avoid talking to them as much as possible. If she didn’t treat Izzy the same way that Tiffany did, and Tiffany saw, Beth would get an earful about playing favorites.
“I’m trying to figure out a way for you to take my place,” Izzy said. “You would actually enjoy going.”
“Mom’s right,” Beth muttered. “I’m too young for the prince to consider anyway.”
“Aren’t there two princes, though,” Izzy inquired.
“Well, yeah, but Prince Edward is only 12.”
“I mean, yeah, you’re three years older than him, but would you really let that bother you if it means you could marry a prince?”
Beth thought for a moment. “No, it wouldn’t bother me. I just don’t see why a prince would want to marry anyone older than him.”
“Maybe because he could see how special you are.”
Beth let out an amused breath. “Like anyone would look at me long enough to see past my appearance. You wouldn’t understand.”
Izzy looked toward their stepsister. “You have no idea how much I wish just one person could see past my appearance. You have your own brand of beauty.”
Beth just huffed and walked back into the dressmaker’s store. Izzy caught a glance of Chandra and Tiffany holding up a powder blue dress. They both looked to face the door as Beth hurried inside.
“Bella! Come here,” Chandra ordered.
“It’s Izzy,” Izzy muttered under their breath. They slouched into the shop, knowing that they would get an earful if they refused.
“What do you think of this dress,” Chandra asked.
“I think it would look great on Beth,” Izzy confidently said.
“Beth can have a new ball gown when she’s going to a ball,” Chandra spat out. It was clear she was losing patience with Izzy’s insistence that Beth should go in their place. “If you don’t like this one, which one do you like?”
“That one,” Izzy said, pointing towards the window.
“Yellow? Really?”
“Not the dress, across the street.”
Chandra moved to look through the window. A shadow fell over her angular face as soon as she realized that Izzy was referring to the white pants.
“You will give up this dream of being a boy this instant,” Chandra spat out.
“I don’t want to be a boy. I want to wear pants,” Izzy retorted with a sarcastic roll of their eyes.
“You are a lady! The daughter of a baron! You will show respect for your father’s good name!”
“My father didn’t care what I wore.” Izzy straightened up their shoulders, increasing the amount of space they took up. “He called me by my real name and let me learn the things that I wanted to learn. He didn’t care if I became a respectable lady as long as I was respectable!”
Izzy felt a hand on their shoulder. Looking to the side, they saw that the dressmaker had come over to them. He had known Izzy since they were a baby and was a close friend of their father. He wore a concerned and loving look on his face. Izzy gave him a small nod.
Chandra’s face began turning red. “You were only 10 when he died,” she spat. “I have raised you for half of your life. If you refuse to respect your father’s memory, then you will respect me.”
“Yeah, great job you did raising me.” The dressmaker’s hand gripped Izzy’s shoulder a little tighter. They felt him moving his thumb back and forth in a comforting manner. “Forcing me to change who I am. Acting as if I’m a burden left to you by the man that you only cared about because of his title.”
“That is enough,” Chandra screeched. “I loved your father, whether you think I did or not!”
Chandra’s eyes started to water. It was clear to the dressmaker that what Izzy had just said really hurt her. He gave Izzy’s shoulder a warning squeeze that they knew meant they were going too far. Izzy’s confident stance collapsed in on itself. Shoulders hunched, Izzy let out a shaky breath.
“Then why do you only talk about him when you want to guilt me into doing something,” Izzy whispered. Tears stung their eyes as they spun on their heels and stormed out the door into the street.
“Miss Chapman!” The dressmaker started to follow Izzy out the door. As Izzy disappeared down the street, he took a calming breath and turned back to the customers in his store. “Have you decided on some gowns?”
---
Izzy picked up their cream wool skirt as they wandered through the tall grass at the edge of the town. With their sights on an alcove of trees not too far out, they cursed their skirt and shoes. Their skirt was collecting seeds of grass and small burs, yet didn’t seem to keep any of those same pokey objects from attaching themselves to Izzy’s stockings. The narrow heel of their simple brown boots kept sinking into the spongy earth, making it difficult for them to move at a satisfying pace.
Clear of the town, and any prying eyes of the townsfolk, Izzy let their tears flow freely. It had been 10 years since their father had died from a lightning strike. What were the chances that he would get struck by lightning and die from it? Even when he had just died, Izzy wasn’t allowed to cry freely. Chandra had said mourning should be done in private. That a true lady only shows their sorrow by their black attire.
Izzy hadn’t thought anything odd about their father’s sudden marriage until that moment. They remembered how their father had grieved when their mother had died. How he would lock himself in his office for days at a time, only allowing Izzy to enter. They remembered sitting on their father’s lap as they cried. How he had stroked their hair and talked about all the fond memories they had shared together.
Izzy had expected Chandra to at least show some emotion after his death. She had only known him a few years before his death, so maybe not be as broken as their father had been, but she hadn’t even cried. How can you not cry after someone you love dies? That must mean you don’t love them. It must mean that Chandra had only married their father for his title, since she had no title of her own.
At least, that’s what Izzy thought. Chandra insisted that she missed their father and had loved him. The one time Izzy had asked why she hadn’t cried for him, she had said, “A mother must be strong for her children. I do not have the liberty to show my grief.”
That had sounded like an excuse to Izzy. What had she meant by she didn’t have the liberty? She was now the head of the household. She could do anything she wanted. If Izzy was head of the household, they would have made sure every room had kept some semblance of their father. His memory would always be present. Chandra had all but removed his memory from the home, much to Izzy’s displeasure.
Izzy kicked at a rock as they neared the alcove. Their tears were slowing down. Annoyance was starting to set in. This wasn’t the first time they had run off. These arguments always started over a trivial thing, like a dress, but they always ended with Izzy’s father or their lack of interest in becoming a “proper lady.” Yet, Chandra never seemed to realize that was what upset Izzy. She always thought they were throwing a temper tantrum over something as meaningless as a dress.
“I’m not a child,” Izzy muttered. “I could be taking care of the estate if Chandra and her daughters would just move on. I could find a way to bring in more money, maybe become a merchant like Dad, but ‘who would want to marry a working woman?’ Argh!”
Izzy let out a frustrated cry as they slumped to the ground in front of their favorite tree. It was a tall paper birch with a wide trunk. One side of the trunk was slightly curved and formed a perfect backrest. The soft bark was perfect for Izzy to lay their head back against as it never caught in their hair. The low hanging branches were at just the right height to provide a feeling of shelter and security.
Tears began to stream down Izzy’s face once again. They were tired. So tired. Every day, someone in their house had something to pick at them about. Whether it was their appearance, or their behavior, or something else entirely, Izzy couldn’t seem to do anything right in their family’s eyes.
“It’s not like I didn’t try,” Izzy sobbed as they roughly wiped the tears away with the palms of their hands. “I just can’t be the person they want me to be. It would hurt my father too much to see me miserable each and every day. I can’t disappoint my father. I’m all that’s left of him.”
Izzy wrapped their arms around their knees and pulled them closer to their chest. Resting their chin on their chest, they didn’t try to stop the sobbing. They cried and cried and lost track of how long it had been since they had run off.
Sure that Chandra had already headed back home with the carriage by now, Izzy didn’t bother to try going back to the village once their tears had dried up. Instead, they laid their head back against the smooth bark and watched as a gentle breeze shook the deep green leaves against the bright blue backdrop of the sky.
It didn’t take long before Izzy fell asleep.
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