Freedom Has blue Eyes

A Story by Charley Rix

Elizabeth, a lady of England, is to be wed to Lord Edelstein of Germany. While Elizabeth thinks of whether to betray her country or not, her schizophrenia helps her find what she really wants.

Freedom has blue eyes

She ran the dull silver brush through her long brown hair, its shine weakly catching the light from the candles. She wished her hair would retain curls, for that was the style, but if she tried to put curls in her hair they would fall flat within an hour’s time. She continued to lifelessly brush her hair, already free of tangles, her jade eyes devoid of any sparkle. The only thing she was thinking about was how she had never noticed how old the brush was; anything to keep her mind off of what was to transpire within the hour.

“You’re going to brush the hair out of your head if you continue” the deep voice said. Great. He was back.

Startled and suddenly angry, she quickly slammed the brush down onto the counter of her vanity, cracking the marble and denting her brush. Her lips pulled together, forbidding the “Go away!” to escape her throat. He was the last person she wished to see. She remembered faster than normal that he couldn’t leave…she couldn’t make him. Fixing her eyes on herself in the mirror, she began to fiddle with the beading on her green dress. It was overly extravagant and not what she would normally wear.

“You don’t have to do this you know. You are your own person after all. They cannot control you.” Her eyes closed, and she breathed deeply inside, struggling not to cry and have to redo her makeup.

“Yes, I must,” she finally said, cooling the quivering her voice would have had otherwise. “I have been promised to the prince. I must take his hand. It is not about what I want.” Her answers were short and simple; anything longer would have made her voice crack.

“So what do you want?” She twisted under the plush stool sharply, ruffling her dress under her bottom. She eyes the man who was casually leaning against the wardrobe, hands crossed, and one leg resting upon the ancient wood. She had half a mind to tell him to remove his foot from the furniture, and then she remembered, he would do no harm.

“Do you not believe that it is not about what I want? I am doing this for the benefit of my mother country.” She sighed, standing up and readjusting her dress. “I am lucky that I found someone who will put up with my curse.” She noticed the way the lace was suddenly pressing against her skin. The corset had been tied too tight.

The man frowned, stepping away from the wardrobe made of cherry, and approached the girl. He took her chin in his hand, his left hand resting on her shoulder. “I am not a curse and you should not have to do this.” She wondered where in the world he was getting the idea that women actually had a say in what happened to them in the royal court. Maybe, in the future, people would acquire this way of feminist thinking. She sighed.

“Personally, I do not wish to, this petticoat is riding up and…” she paused. She berated herself for making up excuses. The real thing clouding her mind was, did she really wish to lose her troublesome disability? “…I guess that I won’t know what will become of you.” He had been her rock, and she was just now realizing how much she actually depended on him.

“Darling,” he said grabbing both shoulders and giving them a hearty shake to enunciate his words. “I’m. Never. Ever. Leaving. You. Okay? Anyway, I can’t go; I am a figment of your imagination after all.”

This made her smile. He gathered her into a hug. “I want you to remember that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, understand me?” she gave a nod. “Good. I promise Germany can find another princess to wed, even one within the court if the Queen wishes to keep relations nice and strong. That wouldn’t be hard. The Lord is a good looking man after all.” She scoffed, hitting his arm playfully.

A knock was heard at the door. They twisted to greet a frantic voice.

“M’lady, m’lady. It is time for you to go now!” she pitied the poor maid who always had to be the bearer of bad news.

“You do not have to do this Elizabeth,” he said as a final warning. “England can find another girl-“

“I must do this. I agreed to this. I would be a traitor if I backed out now.” he handed her smooth pearl slippers. She slowly put them on. More knock was heard. ‘You would think that it is an ambush,’ she thought ‘because that door will collapse with that infernal pounding.’ “Just a minute,” she called.

She turned around to face him. He held a sapphire necklace in his hands.

“The something blue,” he murmured, placing the jewels upon her pale neck, hooking the latch slowly. The ‘something blue’ was a thing that her majesty had first done, and then it became a fad.

“Quit stalling.” He saw the incredulous look I gave him. “I am just a part of your imagination; therefore your thoughts are also my thoughts.” She shook her head for she knew that he was right. She turned around and looked into her friends aqua eyes; his hair was slicked back: for the event she supposed.

“Come onward, m’lady. It is time to go!” She sighed, turning away slowly; her dress looked shimmery in the candle light. She reached for the cold, brass knob, grasping it in her hand, feeling the intricate design on her palm. She paused. Turning around, she frowned when she noticed that he had disappeared again. She thought he would put up more of a fight. Turning the knob until she heard the click, she pushed the wooden door out to be whisked away by the maid.

“You mustn’t make the Lord wait any longer; the Queen has been getting restless.” Two other maids fixed her train as they met with a few other members of her majesty’s court outside the ballroom doors. She paid no attention to the majestic tapestries and sculptures, her mind swimming with what her imagination had told her.

The wide doors opened and the hundreds of aristocrats and delegates of foreign nations turned their heads to face the bride. The string orchestra began to play. The Queen demanded only the best of the best for members of her court. But even with all of these luxuries, Elizabeth felt like a caged bird being prowled by cougars, unable to escape her fate. She calmly strode to the Lord of Germany and the end of the aisle. It was a quick walk. Her eyes flickered to Her Majesty the Queen, whose own eyes where void of emotion. She began to wonder where her illusion was. She was really disappointed the he was not here; she could really use the support.

Before she realized what had happened, she stood next to Lord Edelstein of Germany, reciting vows. She needed to keep her eyes open. The wedding would be over before she had a chance to think. This was moving too fast for her.

“Do you solemnly swear to have and to hold Lady Elizabeth for as long as the allegiance shall prosper?” The protestant priest said, glasses on the tip of his nose, both hands on King Henry’s Bible.

“I do.” She didn’t get any vows to say, but she knew her duties as a diplomat and as a wife. To obey. She was sixteen. She shouldn’t have to obey a thirty year old man. Why did her illusion put these rebellious, damnable thoughts into her head? Her illusion almost made her think that she had any say, but who was she kidding, it was not up to her. She lowered her head as the priest spoke his next words.

“Now are there any objections in the court?” No one dared to breathe.

His voice swarmed around in her head, ‘you don’t have to do anything you do want to’, and ‘England can find another girl’. There he stood, just past the Lord but still on the alter. His face was relaxed, staring at her blankly. Slowly he mouthed the words “I object” and her lips and voice followed suit.

The outburst form Elizabeth froze everybody to their seats including her. The entire room was focused on her. She spared a glance at the Queen, whose eyes, instead of neutral, were ablaze with deadly anger. Elizabeth suddenly felt very small, a feeling she wasn’t accustomed to.

“Entshuldingung?” The Lord said. “Elisabeth?”

“I’m sorry” she whispered, “I’m sorry. No. I cannot do this. I apologize to the Lord and to my majesty, but I must object. Please forgive me.” She started to run back down the aisle and frantically tried to trip on her train. She had managed to stun the assembly. It was not until she was out the door that someone spoke.

“She cannot do this! Someone get her before she escapes.” Guards started to move desperately an all of the delegates attending erupted in waves of gossip. Elizabeth had done something so unheard of; she had committed treason against her country.

Elizabeth hastily ripped the shoes from her feet to run fast. He suddenly decided to show up running next to her.

“That’s my girl,” he said. ‘This is not something to be proud of,’ she thought. She still needed a way to escape the country, for there was no going back now.

“Be quiet, what I need now is the quickest way across the channel to France, that will be my only hope for escape.”

“Understood. I’m sure we can find a carriage around here somewhere.” For once she was happy that she lived in London and not in the country.

Waving down a carriage, she immediately told him that she needed to go to Dover on the channel. The driver agreed after a hefty bribe of gold was waved in his face, and they were soon on their way south. She was lucky for the taxi, an began to change out of her heavy wedding dress to the dress she wore underneath, one that would more readily pass for a common person’s dress. It was as if she was shedding away her old life and slipping into a new, better fitting one. France may not have been the best place to go, but she would make it work. She figured she could always go someplace else.

“To France.” He said it with a joyous smile on his face, but a mournful tone to his voice. She couldn’t blame him.

“To France,” she begrudgingly agreed.