I woke up, panting and sweating, in a dark place I didn't recognize. It was so dark that I couldn't make out what was around me. Nevertheless, I was sure of one thing: I was alone.
A multitude of questions came to mind, but the most important one echoed in my thoughts: how did I end up here?
I got up and started with the most obvious one: trying to recognize my surroundings. I groped my way around, my hands in front of me so that I could visualize by touch where I was. And contrary to what I imagined, it was easier to realize where I was. Or rather, where I was locked in.
Why on earth was I locked up anyway?
What had I done that was so bad that I had to be put in a dungeon?
Unfortunately, I didn't have the answer. That was my biggest concern. For this could only mean one thing: that I could not remember certain events. And that was rather worrying.
I had to find a way to remember. Let's start from the beginning.
My name is Victoria Deschamps, 18th century French. My parents are the Duke and Duchess of Montreuil, renowned for the land they own. Yes, my parents are immensely rich. This can have some advantages and many disadvantages.
But then, you think, how come my parents didn't get me out of there?
I have no idea.
Hence my dilemma
At the age of 18, I was known for my beauty and wealth. Well, my parents' wealth. After all, it was they who established my dowry. A dowry that many gentlemen wanted to acquire.
I had participated in many balls and parades, always accompanied by my faithful chaperone, Lydia, a 43-year-old lady without a husband.
Why do I say that, you may ask.
Because here, not having a husband meant being a failure. My parents didn't want me to be. But they didn't understand me. I didn't want to marry a man who only wanted one thing from me: my dowry. No, I dreamed of love and respect. I dreamed of freedom.
Which I had found. But not with a man of good society, at least according to my parents. Only Anthony was everything I had ever dreamed of. A little older than me, he was a farmer in one of our fields. He had golden hair, which the sun made shine; eyes as blue as the sea in which I loved to lose myself. But above all, he had the purest heart I knew. He respected me and didn't care about my dowry, even though he was poor. He knew very well that he would never have access to my parents' money, even if by some miracle we managed to get married. Because that was our plan. We wanted to run away and live together, free from my parents and society.
Something must have gone wrong, I thought, since I was locked up in a jail. But what? Why didn't I remember that moment, our escape to freedom?
What had happened to us? And where was Anthony?
I hoped that nothing bad had happened to him, because if it did, I would never forgive myself.
*
"It's time," a male voice said from behind me.
"I know," I replied.
"Do you have any regrets?"
"None," I say, turning to Anthony.
I walk over to him and take his hands in mine. He smiles at me.
"Then let's go! I don't want to waste another minute being with you."
I grab my things, walk out of my house still holding Anthony's hand in mine, and we left, without a backward glance.
*
The memory gave me a headache. It had popped up in my subconscious without warning and I didn't know what to do with it. But at least it was a start. And it told me that Anthony and I had started our plan to get away from my parents, away from their grip.
What happened next? Why can't I remember? What had happened to me?
I waited for a noise in the distance. A door slamming. Screeching footsteps, coming closer. Someone must have known I was here. Maybe even the person who had locked me in.
The footsteps came closer and closer, until they stopped in front of me. A man, tall, dressed in black with a hat that hid his face, stood before me.
"Eat," he ordered.
He opened the lock of my dungeon with old keys, then tossed a bundle at my feet. I barely had time to come to my senses when he had already locked my prison and left without asking for help.
I bent down and carefully opened the cloth. Inside were three slices of bread, a piece of meat, and a tomato.
Where did his food come from?
Unfortunately, I already knew that.
Where did my parents' wealth come from? Why was our name Deschamps?
We owned every cultivable field in the area, that's why. From wheat fields to cattle fields. Everything from my tiny bag of groceries came from our house. And part of me knew who had put me in this prison. Even though I didn't know we had them, I was 100% sure of this: my parents had locked me up here!
*
I was out of breath! We were running to escape the guards who were on our heels. My parents' guards. How on earth did they know we wanted to leave tonight? I didn't know, but that wasn't important right now. No, we had to get away from them at all costs.
Anthony dragged me through the fields he knew so well from working in them. He went down alleys I had never even seen before. It was a huge maze. If we got separated, I could never find my way back.
We ran faster and faster, further and further, but nothing helped. The guards were still behind us. I was beginning to think that we had to say goodbye to our dream, to our freedom.
Then suddenly I saw him. My father, in the middle of the road, standing upright beside his carriage.
We stopped at once. We had no choice, he was blocking our way. We were surrounded.
"Father," I said angrily.
"Go back to the house and we'll forget everything," he ordered.
"No way."
"I should have cut this dream short since the day I caught you kissing in one of my fields. What a mistake on my part. But I thought I was pleasing you. I thought it was just a passing fancy. But when your mother told me that supplies were missing, that some of your dresses were missing, I knew I had to do something. And I had to put a stop to this!"
"And what do you intend to do, Father?"
"Arrest him for treason, so he can be hanged. That's all he deserves. As for you, I'm still hesitating between locking you up in your room forever or in the family dungeon!"
"Do you really think we'll let you do that?"
"You have no choice, you're surrounded," he replied.
"No."
That was my last word before I went on the attack. I started to run towards my father while Anthony headed towards the guards. Despite my clothes, I managed to kick my father in the stomach and he recoiled in surprise. But he pulled himself together all too quickly. As I tried to knock him down, he grabbed my leg and sent me tumbling against the carriage. Slightly stunned, I tried to get up. But my father grabbed me and forced me to see what was going on. What I saw was the worst moment of my life: Anthony lying on the ground, bleeding, with my parents' guards standing over him.
"NNOOONN!" I shouted.
I struggled to get out of the arms around me and to reach him. He wouldn't move. Please make him move, make him say something. Anything at all!
"You're going to regret this," I threw at my father.
"On the contrary."
Those were the last words I heard. Then I received a blow on the head and everything went black.
*
I was angry! How could they do this to me? My own parents!
I wasn't going to stand by and do nothing. I had to find a way to break free on my own, to find Anthony, and to do the worst revenge on my parents: to leave with my love without a glance or a word back.
Let's see what my options were? It was still dark, but my eyes had gotten used to my surroundings a bit. I didn't have much to help me. It came down to my gear, my muddy shoes and my bundle. But I could try something. Knowing my parents, they did not maintain this part of their property. That meant I could have the door to my dungeon worn down.
Wrapping the tea towel from the bundle around my right shoe, I took a swing and started banging the opening as hard as I could. It made an incredible racket. But I started again and again. After several hours, or so it seemed to me, because I had lost track of time, the grid moved. A micro centimeter. That was something! And that gave me the strength to continue, until the door opened enough to let me through. When I finally did, I was covered in sweat, with aching limbs.
The door was open enough for me to pass, but only if I removed the excess clothing I was wearing. My dress was too dense for me to walk out in. Fortunately, I had a sub-tunic. It took me a few minutes to undress because my dress was so tight. Once I was free of the restraints, I slipped through the hole I had created between the door and my dungeon. Finally, I was out!
I started to run to find the exit, but this prison was a labyrinth. How could I find the way out in this darkness? I had to keep going, I couldn't give up now.
I turned right and suddenly I bumped into someone. Surprised, I stepped back and prepared to fight.
"Victoria," exclaimed a voice I knew well.
"Lydia," I said with relief.
"I was going to come and get you," she said. "Anthony is waiting for us outside."
"Anthony? Is he here?" I asked pointedly. "Is he alive?"
"Yes, he's waiting for you, Miss. I went to get him first. Your father wanted him executed in the morning, so I couldn't wait."
"You have done well, Lydia."
"Come, let's not waste time. Follow me."
Taking me by the arm, my chaperone guided me through the corridors until I reached the exit. I felt it before I saw it, the wind picking up in the corridor. Then I saw what was waiting for me at the end of the path.
I rushed towards him, so happy to see him after that fateful night. He was waiting for me, in a bad way, his arms ready to receive me. I threw myself in and kissed him passionately.
"I missed you, love," Anthony whispered in my ear.
"I missed you too," I replied.
I didn't want to leave him, feeling good and like I belonged in the crook of his arms.
"You have to leave," my chaperone threw in, interrupting us. "Your father must have heard that Anthony has escaped from his prison. He will also soon notice that you are no longer in your dungeon. You must leave before he notices and catches up with you."
"But you, what are you going to do?" asked I, suddenly anxious for my friend.
"Don't worry about me, I'm going to get out of here too. I'll go back to my parents' house and keep a low profile. It won't take long for your father to find out that it was me who helped you."
"Take good care of yourself, Lydia. I'll miss you."
"Likewise, Mademoiselle. Take good care of her, Mr. Anthony."
"I will," he replied, smiling at me.
Then we parted. Lydia went her own way while Anthony and I, hand in hand, headed for a new life. A life where we would be free to love each other, free of my parents' influence, free, simply.
Photo credit: Pinterest, edited on Canva
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