In the midst of confusion, Elizabeth ran. She had no idea what was going on or what was going to happen next, all she knew was that she couldn’t be there any longer.

All her life, Elizabeth had known nothing but structure and elegance. Every woman around her was beautiful and graceful. The could paint, sing, play an instrument or two. They waited all their lives to be married but, when they finally got there, what did they have? All their property belonged to their husband. They had absolutely no rights whatsoever. It was the way their life worked. Elizabeth hadn’t minded. All she had ever wanted was to be married, have children; a family of her own.

Elizabeth envied her friend Victoria, who had married two years ago. Victoria had always been a bright, happy girl but, being with Charles, she just… glowed. Her eyes burned brighter, her cheeks flushed. They lived in a little cottage not far from Elizabeth with their six-month-old son, James. Elizabeth was round there often; she saw the way Charles kissed Victoria lightly when he got home, how they played together with their son, how they understood and complimented each other perfectly.

That was the one way that Elizabeth had ever seen marriage. Then, a month ago, her sister - Charlotte - had married as well.

Hearing, Charlotte’s husband’s brutality, his force, his power, hearing her sister slam against the wall and scream, Elizabeth knew that she could no longer be there. But she didn’t know where she would go. All her life, Elizabeth had thought that relationships were loving, nurturing… Happy. Charlotte’s didn’t seem like that at all. Elizabeth was fifteen, due to be married in three weeks to an eligible man of good heritage. Charlotte’s husband was of good heritage. It meant nothing.

Elizabeth’s feet hit the ground, she was breathing heavily and struggling to carry on. She was too scared to look behind her, too scared of running straight into a tree (which had happened once or twice). For the first time in her life, Elizabeth hated her clothes. They were so… impractical… inconvenient. The shoulders of her light purple dress were emphasised, so much so that she could barely move them. The waistline pressed tightly against Elizabeth, sucking her in, disabling her ability to move too much. Her dress fell down to the floor, a grave trip hazard. Eventually, she had to stop running. The dress caused her incredible pain. She sat down on the dirty ground as tears slid down her face.

After a few minutes of self-pity, Elizabeth decided that she had to carry on. In order to carry on, Elizabeth knew, she had to take the dress out of the equation. It took Elizabeth a few minutes to get it off, but once she had, everything was okay again. She was able to breathe.

She continued her run, but hearing horse hoofs on the ground, she panicked. She ran faster. All logical thoughts stopped in her mind, she ran with no direction. She kept changing directions, bumping into trees, tripping over rocks. There were a lot of times when she just wasn’t looking where she was going at all. She glanced, involuntarily, behind her a few times which had cost her precious minutes.

****

A lilac dress was left on the floor, George found. Parts of it were torn, almost as if in desperation. He picked it up, studying it in one hand, as he held onto his horse with the other. George’s close friend, Henry, was also looking at the abandoned cloth, whilst holding onto his horse.

“Liza’s?” Henry asked George.

“Yes,” George said confidently. How many runaways could there be?

“Which way do you think she headed?”

George opted to go North, carrying on in the same direction. It had brought them good luck so far. They continued to move, slowly, cautiously, on horseback, listening out for any movement. After an hour of finding nothing, Henry’s grumbling really started. He was impatient, tired, bored. He viewed the search as servant’s work. He was far from a servant.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get another one?”

“Would it?”

“There are no shortage of womenfolk. All of which, will be dying to have a man with his own land. Many will be prettier than Liza, too, she’s nothing special.”

“No, she’s not,” he agreed. “But no one runs away from me.”

*****

She could hear them. She could hear the hooves, the whispers. She was terrified. She knew she should be quiet but she ran faster, taking more twists and turns. She had never been so terrified. She couldn’t turn back now; God knows what punishment would await her. She ran even when her left leg almost buckled beneath her. She ran even when she was low on oxygen, when she knew that there shouldn’t be much oxygen reaching her brain. She ran even when she could hear them no longer, she ran with her thoughts all tangled up in her mind. So tangled, in fact, that she didn’t notice the way that the ground abruptly disappeared. Or just didn’t care. She would not be a man’s woman.