Heron House
C ymbeline, daughter of Lord Ajax and Lady Winifred Briarwood, knew how to live.
And yet on the cusp of her first Season, standing in her beautiful chamber done up in soft periwinkle and cream, Cymbeline felt, well, a hint of trepidation that she was not going to get to live as fully as she might like. Not at all.
She plunked her elbow down on the windowsill. Moonlight spilled through the open window, casting its rays upon her in a melancholy spell.
Ladies could not live as men did, and she did not want to be a man. Quite frankly, being a man seemed like an awkward, terrible business to her. She had no wish for the messiness of all of that. She loved being a lady. She enjoyed her own sensibility and the way she saw the world.
No, no. She had no desire to actually be a man, but she was most curious about the way men navigated the world and the things they got to see that she did not.
Quite frankly, it irked her. She had asked her male cousins time after time to sneak her into the world of men.
She had pursued it over and over, and yet those cousins, her beloved fellows—Calchas, Laertes, and Octavian—had all told her firmly no .
She knew why, of course. Because if she were to get into any sort of trouble, her father, a rather shockingly large man, would pound them into the earth like pegs. She could not deny that fact.
Dearly as she loved her father, there were times when she wished he would not be quite so protective, for it did seem to get in the way of her ability to live a little. She could not truly complain though. She lived far more than most young ladies.
Even so, as she stared out of one of the many windows of Heron House and gazed down towards the river, she wondered what it would be like to be a young man going out on the town.
To slip down either to a coach or his horse and ride the road in, or to take a boat down the river to the center of the city, and simply slip into the crowds, make merry, and have no one tell him no.
To have no fears about how one acted! How glorious would that be?
It was most annoying to be a lady in that regard, even a Briarwood lady, because there were some things that she could not do if she wished to make a good marriage. And she did indeed wish to make a good marriage.
Cymbeline was going to fall in love this year.
She was certain of it. It was her first Season after all, and that’s what Briarwoods did. They fell in love and they were happy. So, she was quite looking forward to it, although it seemed rather soon for her life to take such a sure path already.
Her life had sped by. She knew that some people found life to be rather slow.
Not herself, likely because she was a Briarwood, surrounded by such an amazing family.
Oh, yes. She was truly blessed and surrounded by people who enjoyed life, who knew how to take it day by day, understanding that the world was quite a tumultuous place and that there was really little that they could control.
Except, of course, their enjoyment of life and each other.
The door of her chamber snicked open.
She did not look back. No. She was too preoccupied in her own thoughts, and frankly, she didn’t wish to have a chat with whoever had sought her out. If she did not turn around, perhaps they would slip back out into the hall and leave her to her rather self-pitying thinking.
For it was self-pitying! Which was infuriating.
What had she to complain about? She had everything. Except perhaps a sense of real and true freedom, which she didn’t think any lady in this time could ever actually have.
Even if Briarwood ladies could get quite close.
“You’ve been discontent as of late.” Her mother’s voice slipped through the room, and Cymbeline’s breath caught in her throat.
She did not wish her mother to see her sad or even the tiniest bit discontent.
Her mother, Winifred, was such a kind, lovely, and strong woman who had overcome so much.
Cymbeline had met her mother’s mama. Her grandmother was not the easiest of people and had done a great deal of healing over the years, but she knew how much her own mother had to overcome to marry her father and be well.
So, instead of huffing or acting like so many surly young people might, Cymbeline turned, opened her arms, and rushed to her mama, ready to show her the love she deserved.
And as she rushed, she realized that her mama was holding a bulky and quite large sack in her arms, so Cymbeline could not give her the embrace that she had intended.
Cymbeline lowered her arms and hesitated, determined to explain herself without making her mother nervous. “Mama,” she began gently. “I’m not discontent. I am merely—”
Her mother cocked her head to the side and cut in kindly, “Do not lie, my dear.”
“I’m not going to lie,” she protested.
Her mother gave her a knowing look, the look a mother had when she refused to be deceived.
Cymbeline blew out a breath and shrugged. “I’m merely curious.”
“Curious about what?” her mother said as she took a step forward, the candlelight dancing over her warm, loving form.
Cymbeline nibbled her lower lip, trying to decide just how much she should reveal. “The lives of my cousins, if I’m honest.”
Her mother smiled gently. “I understand.”
“Do you?” she queried.
“Of course I understand,” her mother assured, her hands tightening on the bag. “You know how I met your father and what we did.”
“Yes, Mama,” she replied, loving how her parents had met and how bold her mother had been, given how difficult her circumstances!
Her mother had longed for one adventure before being sent to the country after failing to find a husband, and she had convinced Ajax to take her through Shakespeare country.
With the help of her brother, Cymbeline’s mother had dressed as a boy.
And she and Ajax had fallen in love. A very different sort of adventure.
“But you had good reason to do what you did. I cannot—”
“Cannot?” her mother echoed, a brow arching before she tsked. “Is that truly a word coming from my daughter’s lips? I did not think a Briarwood would ever say cannot .”
“Mama, do be sensible,” Cymbeline rushed, letting her hands fly up in frustration as she tried to dismiss all her own secret inner longings.
“I have given up good sense,” her mother said gently, her lips curling in a bemused smile.
“Good sense is such a trick and the death of so many dreams. It seems practical, but often it is just fear. One should simply choose to be as much themselves as they possibly can, as long as they’re not hurting others. ”
Cymbeline swallowed, her hands falling to her sides, tucking into the folds of her ivory gown. “You know I could never wish to hurt any of you, Mama.”
“Of course not, my dear. And that is why I have brought you this.”
Her mother thrust the sack at her. Cymbeline took the oddly shaped material into her hands. “Whatever is it, Mama?” she asked, looking down to the tightened drawstring.
Her mother stood for a long moment, then nodded, as if committing to a path. “Well, I had the good fortune to do something that you don’t think that you can and that your cousins have not let you do, which I think is rather ironic, given how much Briarwoods try to free others.”
“You speak in riddles, Mama.”
“Open it,” her mother instructed.
Slowly, Cymbeline pulled the drawstring of the bag. She looked in and sucked in a gasp.
She whipped her gaze up to meet her mother’s gentle but determined stare. “Mama, you can’t possibly be serious.”
“Why not?” her mother asked, folding her hands before her skirts.
“Papa—”
“If Papa says anything about it, I will deal with him, but I’ll have you know we decided this together, my dear.
” Her mother’s face softened with love as she thought of her husband.
“He and I never go against each other. We argue, we disagree, but then we come to one opinion, especially in regards to you.”
“Papa has truly agreed to this?” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes as the love of her parents truly hit home.
Her mother nodded, her silver-streaked dark curls teasing her kind face.
“He thinks that it’s a good idea. He thinks that it will help you to be content in your future.
He and I both agree that if you don’t do this, you never will find contentment.
You’ll always wonder, or you’ll feel pushed into a corner one day and experiment without the support you need.
” She cleared her throat and continued. “I’ve also spoken with your cousins.
They’re going to take very good care of you.
And if they don’t, well, they shall all be most uncomfortable .
Your father will arrange that, you know. ”
“He could never hurt his own family,” Cymbeline pointed out.
“No,” her mother said with a laugh. “It’s true. But he and your cousins would also never forgive themselves if something did happen to you. So…your cousins will take especially good care.”
“I would have given you my own clothes that I ventured out in, but they are hopelessly out of date. These are the latest fashions, but subtle enough that they will not draw much attention”
Cymbeline reached into the bag and pulled out a linen shirt, breeches, a beautifully stitched coat, stockings, boots, a wig, and a hat.
No wonder the bag had been bulky like a traveler’s.
“I shall have to teach you how to walk,” her mother said. “And to talk. It’ll be quite a challenge. It’s very easy to give yourself away as a female. And, of course, you will have to bind yourself, my dear. That will be essential.”
Cymbeline was not small in her chest. That was quite true.
“Mama,” she exclaimed, hardly daring to believe what was transpiring. She felt half certain she was going to wake up at any moment. “Are you really going to let me go into town dressed as a boy?”
“My dear,” her mother began firmly, “I am going to encourage you to do this, so you will never know regret. So you will never look back and wonder what your life might be like if you’d gotten to have this one adventure.
But you will listen to your cousins. You will not be ridiculous, and you will not go the way of Lady Caroline Lamb.
Some of us are quite worried about her.”
She let out a pained laugh. “Mother, does anyone wish to be like Caroline Lamb?”
“I think many people think it would be quite grand to be Caroline Lamb, poor thing. Her mother scarred her so badly.”
“Do you think she will eventually cause a terrible scandal? She seems…too passionate.”
“Yes, I do,” her mother sighed. “She has known much pain in her life and not enough love. Still, take heart from this. She has gone many, many places dressed as a man, and no one recognizes her, despite her fame.”
Lady Caroline was not so much older than Cymbeline and yet her life had been marked by sorrow. Her own mother had been a scandal.
“Many young ladies throw themselves away,” her mother said softly. “Not because they wish to, but because they are so desperate to find love. To find acceptance. It is so very sad. So many children long for a parent’s love but never quite achieve it.”
The pain in her mother’s voice was undeniable and yet there was a wisdom to it. Unlike Caroline Lamb, Cymbeline’s mother had found the love and stability she’d never had as a child.
“We will help you find who you truly are, my love,” her mother said.
As she held the clothes in her arms, Cymbeline’s heart swelled as she understood the difference between herself and so many girls launched into society.
Cymbeline’s family would support her. She could go have this adventure, but she had to be careful.
But because of her family, unlike other young ladies, if something went amiss, she would not be broken.
And unlike so many young ladies of the ton, Cymbeline had a wonderful relationship with her mother. It had been her mother’s greatest mission to give Cymbeline the sort of mother she had never had.
She placed her clothes down on the small couch before her fireplace, crossed to her mother, and wrapped her arms about her.
She was so grateful her mother had found the Briarwoods and that she, Cymbeline, had been born to this family.
For they understood that the real point of being alive was simply to love. Love more than anything, more than any pursuit, more than any dream, more than any mission. Love was what the ability to do anything well came from.
Yes, it was the point of being alive. To love themselves and each other.
And so Cymbeline smiled at her mother and said, “Thank you. Thank you for giving me this chance.”