Masquerade 

England, 1852

“Olivia!” Her uncle's harsh whisper echoed down the stairs, as he tried not to wake his wife and three sleeping daughters.

Olivia slipped quietly out of bed and into her hand-me-down dress. “Coming Uncle,” she whispered, feeling her way up the cold stairs.

A half-melted candle illuminated a small, fat man, hunched over an old ledger, quill pen in hand.

“Mr. Greely was short nearly two pounds on yesterday's payment,” he fumed.

“That can’t be,” said Olivia, “I checked that payment my—”

“It will come out of your pay,” he interrupted, closing the ledger.

Olivia bowed her head, fearing what would come next, but instead of the knuckle rapping she expected, her uncle stood and collected his things.

“I have an errand to run this morning, meet me on the ship after you've done your chores.” He didn’t wait for a reply and was gone.

A regular Cinderella, thought Olivia, as she hurried off to the kitchen to stoke the fire. She had read the Grimm brother’s tale of Cinderella and wondered if there was any truth in it. “Where’s my prince charming?” she asked into the darkness.

It was midmorning before Olivia had cleaned up breakfast and finished folding the last of the laundry. She distributed the clean stacks of dresses and undergarments to their proper rooms before grabbing her coat and heading into the cold. Snow was starting to fall as she made her way down the bustling cobblestone streets to the wharf.

Her uncle's ship, the Freedom, was a small 2-masted schooner. Her Captain, a tall, thin man named Henry who had commanded the ship for as long as she could remember, was checking the lines when she arrived. 

“Morning Olivia,” He said as she walked up the gangplank.

“Your Uncle’s already in my cabin.”

Henry's cabin was sparse. A bed on one side, and two wooden lockers on the other. A large window at the back cast its light onto a desk covered in charts and two chairs. Her uncle was looking out the window when she entered.

“Olivia,” he turned and motioned for her to sit.

“No thank you,” she said.

He wasted no time. “I’ve always treated you as one of my own.”

There was an awkward pause and Olivia held back a disgusted laugh. She thought of his daughters, their fine clothes, the private tutors, and how he spared them the hard work she was expected to endure every day.

He was talking again. “Your birthday’s in two days,” another pause. “January first you’ll be sixteen.”

Sixteen, Olivia thought, surprised by the number. It would mark eleven years with her uncle, and eleven years without her mother. She had never known her father. A tear formed as the last memory of her mother flashed before her. Her mother had been lying in bed, consumed by smallpox, begging her step-brother to take care of her precious Olivia. It was the one word that stuck with Olivia, “precious”. She wiped the tear away, not wanting her uncle to see.

“Portsmouth is no place for a young woman to be on her own, so I’ve made arrangements,” he paused again. “A businessman I know up north has a large estate and no wife. It will be a good life for you, better by far than anything you would find here.”

So this is it, she thought, staring at him, his eyes still not meeting hers. He was finally going to get rid of her. Olivia held back tears. Her uncle's voice sounded distant and cold, he was talking again, but she heard only fragments, something about a party that night and meeting the arranged groom, and then he had left.

Olivia took a long way home that afternoon, arriving late only to be hurried off by her stepsisters to prepare for the party. They told her how lucky she was and how they wished they were the ones going. Her body was scrubbed, makeup applied and her slim figure was stuffed into a corset pulled so tight she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe. An old gown was retrieved from a trunk and hastily hemmed. Then, before she had a chance to glance at herself in the mirror, she was pushed into a carriage with her uncle and they were off. 

On the long bumpy ride, her uncle spoke only once, handing her a small ornate mask covered in lace and accented with small white pearls.

“Put this on,” he said. “Everyone will be wearing them. We don’t want you to stick out any more than you have to.”

A masquerade party, thought Olivia, how fitting.

When the carriage stopped it was getting dark outside. Her uncle took her arm and escorted her into the largest house she had ever seen. The entrance was lined with enormous stone columns rising three stories, behind them warm light poured out of a dozen large windows. Inside two staircases rose the full three stories on either side of the foyer. Further in, an orchestra was playing music as dozens of couples danced on a sprawling marble floor while a crowd of others picked through two endless tables of food on either side of the hall. The color is what stood out most to Olivia, the women in their bright flowing dresses and men in their embroidered suits with expensive lace cuffs, and shiny buttons.

Olivia tried to smile, but all she felt inside was dread. Who was this mystery groom that her uncle had arranged for her to marry? She thought, looking out over the sea of faceless people.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Her uncle hurried her past the festivities, to a pair of closed doors at the back of the estate.

A large study greeted them, the walls were filled with books illuminated by the light of a warm fire in the hearth. A man slowly stood as they entered and Olivia's heart sank. Though his masked face was in the shadows, his silver hair and cane told her all she needed to know. Her uncle shook the man's hand and turned to Olivia, arm extended toward her as if presenting a trophy. He stepped forward and she watched as the firelight danced across his eyes through the slits in his mask. He slowly looked her over, lingering where he shouldn’t. An icy chill ran down the back of her neck.

“Olivia!,” her uncle whispered to her, nodding toward the man. She curtsied, wanting to run, but fearing what would happen if she did. A cold smile spread across the man’s face and Olivia's mind was made. She would rather die than let this man touch her.

The secret meeting was finished as quickly as it had begun. The man would send a carriage for her the next morning.

Her uncle was all smiles as he pushed back through the crowd of people ignorant of the hell he had just doomed his niece to. As they were retrieving their coats, a servant stopped them, whispering something in her uncle’s ear. He looked at the servant and then back to Olivia.

“A business matter has come up,” he said, “I will be back in 20 minutes, don’t make me come find you.” and he walked off.

No sooner had he gone, than a second servant handed Olivia a small note.

She unfolded it.

“Meet me in the study,” it was signed “Lady E”.

When she asked where the study was, the masked servant led her to an ornate door at the end of another long corridor. She thanked him, turned, and, after taking as deep a breath as her corset would allow, she entered.

Inside she faced a fireplace framed on either side by the backs of two large chairs.

“Good evening Olivia,” a gentle, feminine voice came from one of the chairs.

“How do you know my name?” Olivia asked, stepping further into the room.

“I know everything that goes on in my house,” the woman replied. “I know all about your uncle and his despicable business dealings, who do you think called him away?”

“You can stop him then?“ Olivia exclaimed, nearly running to the chair before falling on her knees in front of an old woman in an elegant blue evening gown. “Oh please tell me you can?”

“My dear,” the woman's voice was calming, “I have learned to be careful when dealing with men. They don’t like to be told how to run their business; it often leads to worse treachery in the end.”

“Please, you must help me?” Olivia was begging now but she didn’t care.

“Don’t worry child,’ the woman said as she reached into her handbag and pulled out a small leather purse.

“Take this.” She pushed the purse into Olivia's hands.

Olivia opened it and gasped, it was filled with gold coins.

“It's a small fortune!” she said, looking up.

The old woman winked, “It’ll be our little secret,''

“But where am I to go?” Olivia asked, fear returning to her voice.

“You can trust Henry, have him take you to a woman named Mary in Eastbourne. She runs a girls’ school there. Mention Lady Ella, she will take care of you.”

The woman stood, helping Olivia to her feet as she did.

“Now you must be going, we don’t want your uncle suspecting.”

Oliva walked to the door, turning before she left.

“How can I ever thank you?”

“No need dear, now go and godspeed.”

Olivia’s mind was racing the whole carriage ride back to town. Her uncle had arranged for her to be picked up first thing tomorrow, which meant she would need to get to the ship, to Henry, tonight.

***

It was past 2 in the morning before Olivia was sure her uncle was asleep. She had collected the few things she had in a small knapsack, leaving the dress and awful corset behind. Silently, she made her way up the stairs and out the back through the kitchen door.

She hurried along the deserted streets with a mix of hope and fear. The docks were empty when she arrived and, seeing no lookout on the Freedom, she tiptoed up the gangplank making her way to Henry's cabin. She was about to knock when the tip of something cold and sharp dug into her back.

“Who goes there?” The familiar voice of Henry challenged her.

“It’s Olivia,” she answered, turning slowly to face him.

“Olivia! What are you doing here?” he asked, sheathing his sword.

“Please,” she said, “I need to get to Eastbourne, Lady Ella said you would help and my uncle is sure to come after me.” The tears began to fall as she pulled out a handful of the golf coins. “I’ll pay you.”

Henry looked at the money before pushing it back. “Keep the money,” he said. “I have a daughter of my own and should have spoken up to your uncle long ago.” She fell against him in relief, sobs shaking her body. He held her for a moment before speaking again, “The tides just right, we can be underway within the hour.”

The next thirty minutes were hectic as the crew was woken, the gangplank stored, lines thrown, and the sails set. Olivia stood anxiously at the rail, expecting her uncle to show up at any moment, but he never came. Instead, the small ship slowly drifted with the tide toward the channel and freedom.

***

By mid-morning Olivia was beginning to think they would make it. Standing near the helm she took a deep breath, the smell of the sea reminded her of freedom. She even allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to go to a girl’s school.

“Don’t like the look of that ship.” Henry’s words shattered her daydream.

He was looking through a long brass telescope. Olivia followed his gaze to a small sail slowly rising and falling far behind them.

“Looks like a frigate,” he said, lowering the telescope. “I wouldn’t put it past your uncle to send the navy after you, I reckon he had a good bit to lose on that deal, what with you gone now.” Olivia had told him everything the night before.

“How much longer till we make Eastbourne?” she asked.

“2 hours or so,” Henry replied, looking behind them again, “but with this wind, they’ll catch us before that.

Olivia's shoulders fell, it was over before it had even begun. The image of the old man's lustful eyes flashed before her and she shuddered.

“Don’t give up just yet,” Henry said, winking at her. “I have one more ace up my sleeve,”

Within an hour they could see that the ship behind them was indeed an English navy frigate. She had run up a dozen colorful flags, which, according to Henry, called for them to stop and prepare to be boarded.

Henry gave the order and their sails were dowsed, slowing the small ship to a crawl.

“Follow me,” he said, taking one last look behind them. He led her down a ladder to the hold. The space was filled with large leaden crates filled with tea. The same tea she had meticulously recorded for her uncle for as long as she could remember.

Henry put his weight against one of the crates and it slowly moved, revealing a small trap door cut into the deck.

“In here, quick,” he said, opening the door.

She lowered herself into the darkness, letting out a gasp as her feet touched something cold.

“Sorry,” he said, “ always a bit of water down there, but it’s our only chance.”

Olivia braced herself and dropped below the deck, the freezing water rising to her waist.

She watched as Henry closed her in, and heard the heavy crate being pushed back into its place.

They had stopped by now and soon Olivia heard muffled yells, the thud of a long boat coming alongside, and the heavy footsteps of what sounded like a dozen men climbing aboard.

Someone gave muffled commands she couldn’t understand which was followed by a loud commotion as the search for her began. Moments later she heard footsteps in the hold, they stopped almost directly above her. The icy water was so cold she had to make a conscious effort to keep her teeth from chattering.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she heard the voice of Henry ask.

“You left earlier than usual this morning,” The cold calculated voice of her uncle sent a chill, colder than the water she was in, coursing through her body.

“Tide was right,” Henry replied. “It’s the damn wind that slowed us down, should have made Eastbourne two hours ago.”

“Olivia’s runoff,” Her uncle said. “You haven’t seen her have you?”

“Sure did,” Henry answered, “she came on board early this morning.”

Olivia’s heart sank, what was he doing, had he gotten scared? Why go to all the trouble to hide her only to give her up the first chance he had?

Henry continued. “Said she wanted to get out of Portsmouth, offered to pay me too, but I knew she didn’t have any money, besides I didn’t want any trouble.”

There were more footsteps and another voice. “Found this in the captain's cabin sir, looks like a knapsack.”

Olivia nearly cried out, covering her mouth with both hands, her knapsack! She had left it on the bed in her haste to follow Henry.

“Where is she!?” The voice of her uncle was angry now, but Henry answered, still calm and measured.

“I told you. She tried to get on board. She must have left the knapsack when I had my first mate escort her off.”

There was silence and her uncle spoke again, in a forced whisper.

“I have much riding on her, she was to marry the old admiral today, he will not be pleased.”

So that was his angle, thought Olivia, using her to get in bed with the Navy.

Henry spoke again, “You know I wouldn’t endanger my family for the sake of that poor orphan girl.”

Her uncle chuckled. “I suppose, you always did look out for yourself first.”

The search went on for nearly an hour before her uncle was convinced she was not on board. By then Olivia couldn’t feel her legs and was on the verge of passing out from the cold. Finally, she heard the sailors clamber back over the side and the splashes of the longboat oars fading away. There was a loud scraping sound, light poured into the void and two pairs of arms gently pulled her from the cold. Warm blankets were wrapped around her, then blackness.

***

Olivia woke sometime later to the sound of explosions. She sat up wide-eyed. She was lying in Henry’s cabin. It was dark outside and the ship was slowly rocking. Henry was sitting at the desk, reading by the light of a burning candle, a pipe hung from his lip.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Fireworks,” Henry answered, closing his book.

“It’s midnight. New Year's day.”

Olivia’s body relaxed, “My birthday,” she said, managing a weak smile.

“Well happy birthday,” Henry said, “thought we might have lost you for a moment there, that water was awfully cold.”

“Where are we?” Olivia asked, not recognizing the torch-lit dock through the window.

“Eastbourne,” He said smiling, taking a long puff of his pipe. “Made it here last night, figured we’d let you sleep, seeing as how your uncle’s probably got someone watching the ship.”

“Don’t worry,” Henry reassured her, seeing the scared look return to her face. “I had my first mate talk to that schoolmistress, she’s going to have a carriage sent to pick you up in the morning.”

Olivia ran across the deck to Henry, hugging him and kissing him on the cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked, a surprised smile stretching across his face.

“Thank you,” she said, tears welling in her eyes, “and happy new year.”