Gentleman In The Mirror

The clock kept ticking somewhere inside the estate.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Personally, I believed it sounded remarkably similar to an execution bell.

I held my parents’ portrait closer to my chest. It was small enough to fit in my hands, and the only one where they smiled.

Tomorrow was the day of my engagement.

The entire household had been preparing for this for over a month now, as if it would be enough to convince everyone that this arrangement was celebratory rather than transactional.

Even now, faint sounds can be heard throughout the estate. Servants were moving furniture down the corridors. Others were discussing the remainder of things left to do. Some were retiring early to be ready for tomorrow’s morning shift.

I understood the reasoning behind my brother’s decision, but how could one surrender themselves to a man they scarcely knew simply because it was the most practical thing to do?

Especially if the man one promised to was Lord Septimus Vale...

I had met Lord Vale only a handful of times, yet every encounter with him left me uneasy. There was something deeply unsettling about him. Even his attention felt oppressive.

If that was not terrible enough on its own, the gossip started the moment the union was announced.

Every hallway I passed after that carried whispers. At every tea gathering, conversation would grow quiet as soon as I arrived. While some were bold enough to continue behind their hands.

“Poor girl.”

“What else could her family do?”

Some looked at me with pity. Others with relief that it was not their daughter being promised to Lord Vale. I had grown thoroughly exhausted by both.

I had enough of this.

I refused to spend the last night of my freedom wallowing in self-pity.

“Evelyn, one does not solve problems through complaints, but through actions.”

My father used to repeat that whenever I complained about Edmund. Or anything else.

And he was right. If this truly was the last night of my freedom, then I intended to claim it, and tomorrow, I would fulfil my duty as an Ashbourne daughter.

I lowered the portrait behind the curtain and slipped out of the attic. Cold air greeted me as I climbed down the stairs, creaking beneath every careful step I took.

Edmund must still be in his study. He had barely left it all week between invitations, guest arrangements, estate accounts, and marriage contracts. His study had practically become his permanent residence.

I tiptoed through the hallway, only to stop outside his study. When I saw several untouched trays sitting abandoned in front of his study door. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. It seems some servant had eventually stopped bothering to remove them altogether.

For a moment, I simply stared at them before knocking on his door.

“Brother.”

“Yes, Evelyn.”

“May I come inside?”

“If you must,” he said after a long pause.

That was all the invitation I needed.

I walked in carrying inside the freshest one of the plates.“You know, usually it’s the girl being sold off who refuses to eat before an engagement. Some do it from heartbreak, others to look prettier in their dresses.”

“You may very well become the first brother to mourn on behalf of his sister. Should I assume you secretly do not wish for me to leave?”

“First of all, you are not being sold, so stop saying that. It is deeply insulting and unladylike.” Edmund finally looked up from his papers. “Secondly, this is only an engagement. You are not leaving tomorrow. There is still time before the wedding day.”

“So you admit you do not wish for me to leave.”

“It is not a matter of want,” Edmund said at last, setting down his pen. “I am simply the most capable person to manage you.” A brief pause followed before he added more quietly, “But yes. You will marry eventually. That much cannot be avoided, Evelyn.”

I rolled my eyes.

“There it is. Edmund Ashbourne, forever devoted to practicality. Very well. I will be leaving you and your tragic estate accounts alone.”

I reached for the door, “Do try to remember, brother, that food exists.”

Edmund answered with a distracted grunt as I exited his study and returned to my chamber. From behind the cupboard, I dug out the old clothes I used for disguises. I often wore them whenever life inside the estate became all too much to endure.

A childhood raised by an overworked heir and a governess with deeply militaristic opinions regarding etiquette had, surprisingly, prepared me well for certain things.

After several unpleasant minutes spent wrapping my chest tight enough to offend both nature and breathing itself, I changed into a stained tunic and trousers.

I smeared mud from the flower pots across my face. Then tied my hair up into a tight bun, concealing it beneath the rough cap.

Escaping the estate had become easy. I knew the routines of the guards better than they did. I climbed over the corner wall swiftly due to years of practice.

I had been told by my former governess, Mrs Whitmore, that climbing walls was terribly improper for young ladies.

Fortunately, I have never been committed to being a proper lady.

By the time I reached the other side of the wall, I was merely just another rough-looking boy in the streets.

No one paid me any mind.

As I wandered deeper towards the market district, where the streets bustled with life.

I entered an old tavern that was wedged between large buildings, its crooked sign swaying with the slightest wind. I slipped onto the stool at the counter and ordered the cheapest ale they had.

The bartender looked at me once over before snorting.

“You look no more than twelve,” he muttered while he slid the mug toward me.

“And yet you still served me the drink.”

“Fair enough, lad”, he replied with a small laugh.

It tasted terribly bitter, nothing like the civilised, smooth drinks served at home, but I drank it anyway.

And then some more.

Slowly, everything started going dull.

The vision was getting blurry. Sounds intermingled into one another, melting into an endless hum. It became all too distant, as if I were submerged underwater.

For the first time in weeks, nobody watched me.

Nobody whispered or pitied me.

I couldn’t help giggling at that thought as the tavern’s warmth wrapped around me like something forbidden.

Freedom.

If I were a son... The doors would have opened for me tomorrow instead of closing on me.

Unfortunately, where men inherit titles, women inherit burdens.

I gulped down another cup.

I wonder how things would have been different if Father were still with us.

And once I finally stepped out into the night, the air was colder, though I barely felt it.

The moon hung in the night sky, full and bright above, casting more light across the streets than any gas lamp ever could.

I let my head tilt back toward the sky, and for a single moment, I felt impossibly light, as though no worry could reach me there.

I began to sing slowly.

Not well or properly. Definitely not in the way noble women should sing, just fragments of old songs and half-remembered melodies.

My voice kept wavering, but for once it carried no burden.

I wandered through narrow streets and dark, empty alleyways, and once in a while, my paths crossed with rather rude pairs of men and women engaged in equally illicit activities. Yet we mutually ignored each other as we both realised there was no need for interference.

Strangely enough, Vaelmora’s criminals proved kinder than its nobility.

I did not care where I went as long as it was not where people expected me to be.

Somewhere along the way, I came to a stop where the ground felt softer. My legs suddenly gave in, though I could not truly recall when I decided to lie down. The last thing I could remember was the world tilting before it all disappeared into comforting darkness.

I awakened at the sound of the morning bustle. It took me some time to realise where I was.

When a dull throb introduced itself, pulsing deep behind my eyes, as though someone had hit a hammer to my skull. My limbs felt heavy, sore and unwilling to move while my mouth was as dry as the desert’s sand.

For a minute, I kept my eyes closed and continued to lay in a pile of hay behind someone’s backyard

The tavern.

The laughter.

The moon.

Then nothing.

I groaned softly as I lifted a hand to rub the remainder of sleep, then stretched, but the moment I stood up, something felt wrong.

My walk felt different, unstable.

My shoulders felt oddly heavy.

Even my own breathing sounded unfamiliar.

My whole body ached with a peculiar soreness.

My mind was trapped in the haze of ale. Throbbing too violently to form any thought.

Yet even in the current state, I could only focus on one thing. To return to the estate as quickly as possible before anyone learns about my escapade.

Somehow, after stumbling through the roads, groaning and narrowly avoiding being crushed beneath a passing cart. I managed to find my way back to the Ashbourne estate’s backside corner wall and climbed it on my third attempt.

I stumbled into the bushes, missing the guard’s round barely by a second.

I lay there breathing heavily, rubbing my head. Even my hand felt strange against my scalp.

I blamed the cheap ale from last night.

Finding my way back to my chambers proved another great challenge. Despite the household already stirring with activity, I managed to find my way back undetected.

It seems all these years of escaping had finally paid off. I collapsed on the bed when a knock came at the door.

“My Lady Evelyn?” Mrs Howell asked. “Are you awake, miss? Your bath has been drawn.”

Only then did I finally realise I was still in my bloody disguise.

I quickly moved to change out of it, washing my face, getting rid of dirt, grime and sweat from the past night.

But as I came to stand in front of the mirror, now bare and clean-faced.

I realised something was very wrong.

I touched my face.

The stranger in the mirror mimicked me.

My breathing stopped as I slowly turned to look behind me.

No one was there.

The room was empty yet when I turned back to the mirror-

The stranger was still there.

I stepped back,

The stranger in the mirror moved with me.

I moved my hand.

So did he.

My stomach twisted painfully as I struggled to comprehend what stood in front of me.

Then my fingers shakily rose toward my chest as I looked downward.

Flat.

A wave of dread crept down my spine.

Then, slowly, my gaze lowered even further.

And there, where there should have been final proof of my womanhood, I found something else entirely.

Nothing about this body seemed to belong to me anymore.

“Ahhhhh!”

Scream tore out of my throat,

Even that belonged to someone else.

____

Author Note:

✦ Welcome to Vaelmora.

Kingdom of moonlit courts, whispered scandals and noble drama. Please save it to your library.