Chapter Text
I bit the inside of my lip and forced myself to smile as my mother had just told me to at the 20 something year man talking quietly with my grandfather at the bottom of the stairs.
"He looks nice, doesn't he?" My mother, again. There was a slight note of desperation in her voice.
"I wasn't aware his personality mattered," I muttered under my breath as I ignored my mother and starting walking down the stairs, head held high, hand delicately resting on the handrail as I had been taught.
"Of course his personality matters! You want someone who will be kind and intelligent as a husband!" Damn. My mother had heard me and was now walking down the stairs next to me, head also held high. She wasn't holding on the handrail however. Mrs Armstrong, the decorum governess who had taught us both would be very disappointed.
"Please, Mother. Let’s not pretend I have a choice in this matter."
"Your grandfather wants the best for you."
Mrs Armstrong would however have been very pleased at the welcoming smiles my mother and I kept on our faces as we descended the main staircase of Dublith Castle. No one watching us would have thought for even a second we were having a heated argument that we had had a thousand times before.
We were halfway down the stairs and I was about to retort with what my grandfather actually wanted for me, when the man himself and his younger companion noticed us.
"Lillian! Elizabeth! How wonderful! The pair of you have perfect timing!" As if he hadn't sent one of footmen up to fetch us 10 minutes beforehand. "This is Sir Frank Archer – one of my business partners. I happened to bump into him when I was town in earlier and I insisted he come for dinner." He turned to Sir Archer. "This is Lillian, my daughter. And her daughter, my granddaughter, Elizabeth!"
My grandfather presented me with a flourish. There was a moment of silence, and then I felt my mother prod me in the back.
"Sir Archer, welcome. It is a small world," I replied, the smile on my face as fake as my cheerful tone.
"It is?" Sir Archer replied, puzzled.
"Well it must be! My grandfather spoke to me this morning about our family's future, and then pops 'causally' into town and happens to bump into you! Who would have expected it?"
I heard my mother quietly groan beside me, her welcoming smile now very fixed on her face. My grandfather meanwhile was glaring at me. Neither of them needed to worry. My pointed remarks went straight over Sir Archer's head.
"Um, indeed, Lady Elizabeth." He gave me an insincere smile and held out his arm as I came down the last few steps. "May I escort you to the orangerie? Lord Grumman – your grandfather – happened to mention we would be having aperitif there."
I took his arm and just about managed to bite back that I was perfectly aware who my grandfather was, thank you very much, given that I had lived with him for the past 18 years.
Sir Archer started to walk confidently towards the left corridor – in completely the opposite direction to the orangerie.
"I do believe the orangerie is this way," I said, trying desperately hard not to roll my eyes as I gestured over to where my mother and grandfather were waiting.
“Ah, yes of course! Lord Grumman is waiting over there!"
This time I gave in and rolled my eyes. Of all the suitors – sorry business partners – my grandfather had bought home – sorry accidentally bumped into while in town - to introduce me to – sorry invited back for dinner – this one was acting as if he might be the worst yet.
"Is Lady Elizabeth set to inherit the whole estate, Lord Grumman?"
Wow. I stood corrected. No might – he was the worst yet! My suitors usually pretended to be at least a bit interested in me before enquiring after my dowry and future inheritance. Even my grandfather looked a little shocked, although this might have been over the fact Sir Archer had dared to do something as gauche as mention inheritances in front of the ladies rather than his lack of pretence to be interested in me for me. It was always hard to tell with Lord Grumman.
I fantasised for a moment that my grandfather would take offence at the way his beloved granddaughter was being treated and throw the man out on his ear.
"No, she has two older brothers after all. I have, however of course, bequeathed a sizeable inheritance on her, and of course there is her dowry."
Ah well, the fantasy was nice while it lasted. I tried to catch my mother's eye so I could mouth her comment about grandfather wanting the best for me back to her, but funnily enough, she was suddenly very interested in a painting of a flower that had been on the wall since before she herself had been born.
Sir Archer gave the impression he'd be quite keen to discuss my dowry and future inheritance then and there, but we had just got to the orangerie where my grandmother was waiting.
Once the relevant introductions were made my grandfather ensured his esteemed business partner stayed away from the money tied to me and instead changed the subject to the King of our beloved Amestris.
"Looks like we'll be going to war again, does it not Archer?" he asked as he handed over a glass of whiskey. My grandmother, mother and I got sweet muscat as always.
"Yes... things are definitely heating up with Ishval," he replied. "Not entirely sure I know why though!"
"Maybe because the Ishvalan government believes it has the right to sell the coal from its coal mines that its coal miners have risked their lives to extract at a price that suits them rather than the laughably low one suggested by Amestris?" I had read a book about the coal industry and associated dangers last year and was following the escalating tensions with academic interest.
Everyone stared at me and it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
"Well, we are asking a very low price for it! In fact, if you calculate how much time, money and effort Ishval has put in to locating the coal deposits in the first place, training the coal miners – as coal mining is actually really quite a technical job as well as being extremely dangerous, and that's before we've even got on to the topic of processing the coal, the price Ishval initially offered us per tonne is incredibly reasonable-"
Sir Archer cut me off, turning towards my grandfather. "She's never been away to school has she?"
"No," he replied, giving a piercing look.
"She's been educated at home, by governesses," my grandmother interjected, smiling at Sir Archer before giving me a glare which clearly told me to shut up and keep my opinions on the coal industry to myself.
"Ah, good," said Sir Archer, satisfied with this response. "I'm not sure I'm keen on this newfangled nonsense about sending girls away to be educated. After all, what does a girl need to know that her mother or a good governess can't teach her? And being sent away from her protective, loving family might give her ideas or put her in the way of... less than savoury types," he said the last bit delicately, raising an eyebrow towards my mother. I wondered why he just didn't ask if I was still a virgin. After all, he hadn't been so reluctant to ask about the financial benefits I would bring as a bride.
"Oh!" My grandmother replied with a laugh. "Elizabeth has definitely not been anywhere near any unsavoury types! She hasn't even been left alone with a man – not without a chaperone! We keep a close watch on her. We know how important her reputation is. As does she." She gave me a medusa-like glare.
She needn't have worried. I knew damn straight how important my reputation was. It had been drilled into me again and again by both my grandmother and my governesses that my reputation – read virginal status – was very important to any potential future husband I might have. And of course as the only thing I could possibly want in life was a husband, I wouldn't go about trying to deliberate sabotage that now, would I?
The idea that I might want more out of life than a marriage and a husband was completely alien to my family. The idea that I might want to choose my own fate, to be worth more than my dowry and future inheritance obscene. In their world, aristocratic women married well, brought dowries into their husbands' families and trade deals and business partnerships to the families they left behind and then had children – preferably sons – to carry on the family name.
My family was already considered slightly strange as my late father had joined my mother in her family home, rather than vice-versa as was usual. But as my father had been one son of three and my mother my grandparents' only child, this was overlooked. Even then, it was still gossiped over as a minor scandal in the corners of high society ballrooms.
The evening went on, as so many other evenings with other potential suitors had before, and I seemed to watch it from a distance. I smiled vapidly, ate my dinner neatly and answered questions sweetly when asked, all the time screaming from some place inside myself that the lessons society had forced down my throat had yet to touch.
I couldn't spend the rest of my life living like this. I couldn't. I watched my grandmother and mother, and for a moment I swore I saw myself in their places and choked back a scream. I felt a sharp pain in my fingers and looked down.
I had squeezed my wine glass so tightly it had broken and cut myself. Luckily only the family butler – Robins – noticed and he quietly replaced my glass and gave me a spare napkin to bound the cut with before anyone else could see what I had done.
After dinner, my grandfather and Sir Archer retired to the former's study with cognac and cigars and my grandmother, mother and I went to the parlour, leaving the maids to clear the table. One winked at me as I left – Suzie - who I had taught to read in exchange for being taught how to climb trees, do somersaults and all sort of activities my family would thoroughly disapprove of they knew. She had handed in her notice last week. She had told me she was going to join the army and see what laid beyond the Dublith lands. I was so jealous I could barely speak.
My grandmother settled herself down on her favourite armchair and pulled over the watercolour she had been working on that afternoon.
"I think that went rather well, don't you?" She turned to my mother. "Well, apart from Elizabeth's little outburst on the coal industry." She looked at me disapprovingly. "Honestly, child, I don't know what gets into you sometimes." She turned back towards my mother. "You clearly need to keep a closer eye on what's she reading, Lillian."
My mother made a non-committal noise and I resolved to sneak down to my grandfather's huge library later that night once the household had fallen asleep and grab a varied selection of books to hide in various places in my rooms. My mother had never stopped me from reading whatever I pleased, but my grandmother had no issue at all with stopping from taking anything off the shelves that she hadn't previously deemed acceptable. She had done it before. Given as she only found morally improving books about obedient daughters acceptable, I clearly needed to prepare.
"Regardless, I suspect we can add Sir Archer to our list of offers," my grandmother said with a satisfied air. "Your grandfather will soon have enough to make a decision".
With that comment my mother whipped her head up from the sampler she had been sewing. "I thought you said Elizabeth could choose her own husband? As I did!"
At the same time I went, "List of offers? What do you mean?"
Grandmother put down her paintbrush and looked at us. "Girls!" For a moment I wondered how my mother, who had three grown-up children, of whom I was the youngest, felt about being lumped in the same category as her 18-year-old daughter. "I can't answer you both at once!"
She turned to me. "Offers for marriage of course, darling!" she cooed. "You've impressed so many of your grandfather's business partners with your looks and behaviour and-"
I cut her off. "My stainless reputation and dowry," I noted bitterly. My mother picked up on my tone and gave me a look, but it went right over my grandmother's head, just as my comments on it being a small world had earlier with Sir Archer.
"Exactly! We've done so well! Almost every single suitor your grandfather has brought home-" At least she wasn't pretending they were just business partners who had happened to be in the area like my grandfather had. "-has asked for your hand!"
"But, I don't know any of them!" I said angrily. "I've barely met any of them even once! The whole time any of them were here I merely smiled sweetly. Anytime I tried to say anything you told me to shut up!"
"I did not tell you to shut up!" My grandmother retorted.
"You did in as many words, Mother." Both my grandmother and I looked at my mother in surprise. She rarely defended me and even more rarely disagreed with her own mother.
"Well... you do have some unladylike tendances to join in conversations that the men are having, Elizabeth. You read far too much for a young lady."
"Isn't that something they should know if they are going to marry me? That I'm interested in that sort of thing?"
My grandmother gave me the evil eye. "No. They should definitely not know. All they need – all they want – to know is that you're a beautiful girl – which you are -," she smiled at me as if this would pacify me. "That you have a good reputation and that you have a dowry. They don't want to know anything else."
"So my potential future husbands don't want to know what my personality is like? They only want to check that I come with money and that I'm a virgin."
"Elizabeth! There is no need to be so crude!" My grandmother was getting annoyed now.
"But it's the truth."
"Elizabeth – enough. You've made your point and we all understand what's at stake here." My mother was talking to me, but looking warily at my grandmother, who really was getting angry now. I could see her point. My grandmother had a short temper and bad things tended to happen when she lost it. Last time I 'back chatted' her as she called it, I was confined to my room for a week. Given that I was already set to lose access to the library for a while I hardly wanted to restrict my life even further so I shut up.
"You spoil that child, Lillian. I know she's your youngest and your only girl, but!" My grandmother sniffed. "The sooner she is wedded and bedded, the better! Her husband will never let her get away with things like that!"
That was exactly what I was afraid of.
She gave me another disapproving look then turned to my mother. "What was it you wanted to ask, Lillian?"
"You promised me she would choose her own husband, as I did." My mother's tone was measured and outwardly she seemed calm, but she was holding tightly on to her sampler in a way which implied inwardly she was anything but.
"Oh, she will, darling! From a shortlist your father will draw up of suitable candidates! Exactly as he did for you," my grandmother cooed. "It's so kind of him, giving you both so much choice! My father told me exactly who I was to marry and when, no arguments." She picked up her paintbrush once more.
"You must remember to thank him for giving you so much control, Elizabeth," she added as she started painting a vase of insipid flowers. I bit down on my lip so hard it started to bleed. Thank him? Thank him? Was she insane? Thank him for selling me off to someone who didn't give a damn about who I actually was? Who only wanted me for my dowry and the potential children I could give him.
I was so angry I could burst. I opened my mouth to speak then saw my mother. She was looking down at her sampler, sadness written into every inch of her face. She had believed that she had chosen my father herself. To learn he had been pre-approved as it were must have been heart breaking. I took a deep breath.
"Grandmother, Mother, is it alright if I retire? I'm not feeling so good and I think an early night might help."
My grandmother didn't look up from her painting and merely waved her paintbrush in my direction.
"Of course, darling. You have been acting out of sorts this evening. Hopefully you'll be back to your normal, obedient self come morning." There was a threat in her words.
My mother put her arms out to me and I went over for a hug. She drew me in and kissed my cheek.
"Sleep well, darling. I love you."
"I love you too, Mother." I kissed her cheek back and then went up to bed. The irony that no one even mentioned the idea of me saying goodbye to a prospective husband didn't escape me.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Disclaimer: I do not own any names from FMA.
Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter! My motivation has come back!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Once I was up in my room I dismissed my maid, Lola, who I knew reported back to my grandparents on my behaviour and started pacing. I didn't blame Lola for reporting. She didn't have a choice. My first maid, Petra, had refused to do so and found herself without a job less than five minutes later.
I paced up and down for a while, trying to burn off some of my anger towards my grandmother, my grandfather, all the suitors, my life as a whole. All I wanted was a bit of freedom. The possibility to choose who I married and what I did with my life. Pacing up and down didn't help. If anything I only felt even more angry. I flopped down on the bed, grabbed a pillow and tried screaming into it. I felt tension leave my body... only to be replaced by more. Great.
I lay on the bed, the fancy dress I had been told to put on earlier crumpled beneath me. Lola had insisted I take it off before she left, but I had refused to let her put it away. Laying on it and crumpling it was petty revenge, but it was all I had right now.
I glanced at the clock on the wall and wondering how long before my grandmother went to bed and I could sneak down to the library. All of a sudden my anger left me and all I wanted to do was cry. What kind of life did I leave that even just reading what I wanted required planning and hiding? There had to be more than life than this. There had to be.
There was a knock on my door. I thought about yelling at whoever it was to go away, but then realised if it was one of my grandparents I would just be subject to a lecture on not being a child any more. I reluctantly got up and opened it.
Suzie stood there, a pile of books in her arms. "Good evening, milady. Your grandmother sent me with the books she has chosen for you. She allowed your mother to add some of her favourites." She smiled at me, gave me a wink and put the books down on my dressing table. "Enjoy!"
"Thank you, Suzie." I gave her a wan smile and then let her leave. I wasn't in the mood to talk. Especially not with Suzie who was leaving this house soon. I was so jealous of her, I could feel the jealousy choke my throat. If she stayed I would say something I would regret.
I went through the books my grandmother had deemed appropriate. Mrs Beeton's Guide to Household Management, A Wife After God's Own Heart, The Christian Women... I gave up after a while and sunk to the floor with a moan. She couldn't be serious. No way in hell was I reading those. One book had fallen to the floor with me. Jane Eyre. This was clearly one of my mother's choices. Ah well, at least I had something to read, even though I had read it for the first time years ago. I flipped through the book and stumbled on the chapter where Jane runs away on to moors after finding out that Mr. Rochester is already married.
Jane was so lucky being able to run away... Wait. I could run away. Couldn't I? I sat up a bit straighter than slumped again. It was a bit extreme. After all, Jane had found herself trapped, with nothing else to lose and had no other options but an extreme solution to an extreme situation... Okay, Jane and I seemed to have far more in common than I initially thought. But where could I run to? I couldn't just wonder around with no destination in mind. I would be found and brought back to the Dublith estate in disgrace.
There was another knock on the door which startled me out of my thoughts. I got up and went over to open it again. It was Suzie again. She had my nightly cup of hot chocolate in her hands.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." She bopped a curtsey then left again.
I picked up my hot chocolate and took a sip. Suzie was lovely. Never asked questions when she saw I didn't want to talk. I would miss her when she left to join...That was it! I could run away and join the army! The army was constantly on the move and the Imperial Amestrian army was so huge I could just be one more anonymous soldier! And it was the last place my family would think to look for me. They knew I had been teaching Suzie to read, but had no idea she had been teaching me how to climb trees, hit targets with a slingshot etc. as payment. They thought I was doing it out of the goodness of my heart.
As I looked around my room, wondering what I should take with me, part of my mind rebelled at the idea of leaving behind everything I knew and loved. Was it worth it? From outside I heard the sound of a car engine pulling up. I went to the window and saw my grandfather saying goodbye to Sir Archer then remembered my grandmother's words about my grandfather drawing up a list of suitors. It was either stay here and live the life my grandmother and mother led, or run away and see what happened. When I put it in terms like that, there was no choice to make. I had to try or I would spend the rest of my life regretting it.
I turned back to my room and went to the large built in wardrobe. I dug out the rucksack one of my older brothers used to take with him when he went on week long hunting trips with his friends. I had 'liberated' it from his room when he moved out to live with his new wife two years ago. It was just what I needed. I looked around my room and tried to work out what I should take with me. I couldn't take that much – I needed to be able to carry it all in the rucksack after all. I also didn't want to take anything that would identify me as the Duke of Dublith's granddaughter as that would see me taken back to my family and thus defeat the point of me running away.
I looked through my wardrobe and grabbed a nondescript dove grey dress, a pair of black trousers and a plain light blue t shirt. They went in the rucksack along with two pairs of knickers and minimal toiletries. I decided to throw in a large bar of soap so I could wash clothes as I went and cut down on my packing. I thought about packing an extra corset but realised it would take up too much space, so merely put on the most comfortable one I had – which I hoped was also easy to wash.
Rucksack packed with everything I thought I would need, I grabbed my purse with a not-insignificant amount of money in it and finished getting dressed in my most comfortable and least fancy clothing. I then settled down to wait until the household went to sleep and I could slip out.
Two hours later, at midnight, I looked round my childhood bedroom and felt the pull to stay one last time. I gritted my teeth and went for the door. It didn't take me long to slip down to the ground floor – the library was on this level and I had made the journey thousands of times. But this time, instead of turning left towards the haven of books, I turned right towards the front door. I took a deep breath, turned the key which had been left in the lock as always and stepped out into the night.
I closed the door behind me and hoped that no one would get into trouble for leaving the door unlocked.
I took a step away from the front door of the mansion known as Grumman Manor where I had spent most of my life and suddenly felt a rush of freedom and adrenaline. I couldn't believe it! I was running away! I was taking my life into my hands. I sighed deeply and felt a huge grin spread itself across my face. Then suddenly I was running. Running away from the house and towards the unknown.
It took me about 30 minutes to get down to the local town of Dublith and about that amount of time to realise I had no idea what I was going to do next. I pulled the cap I had thrown in my rucksack at the last minute over my head, tucking my long hair into my collar and hoping it would be enough as a disguise. I didn't come down to the town very often – it wasn't considered ladylike – so I doubted anyone would recognise me when I wasn't dressed up as the Duke's granddaughter.
Still, the sooner I got out of here, the better. I walked along the main road and saw the coach station. There was a coach outside, ready to go. I looked at the sign advertising its final destination – Central which I knew vaguely was the capital but had never actually been to -, bought a ticket and got on.
For the first hour I looked out the window at the countryside going past, my heart pounding so loud I thought everyone on the coach must have been able to hear it, half delighted, half terrified at my own daring. I had actually run away! I was going somewhere I had never been before all by myself. There was no one around to manage me, to tell me what to do when or stop me from doing exactly as I pleased. The thought was intoxicating yet horrifying at the same time. At every stop I tensed, sure that someone who knew my family would get on, recognise me immediately and order the coach driver to turn around and drive me back to the Dublith estate.
No one did and as the second hour of the trip started I felt myself starting to relax. My shoulders sank about two inches as I leaned against the coach seat and I hugged my rucksack close to me. I continued to watch the darkened countryside go past and before long nodded off to the movement of the coach.
XXXXXX
"Final destination, Central! We have reached our final destination, Central! All change please! Final destination, Central!"
I woke up with a start to the coach driver's call. We were in another town centre and the pre-dawn light was turning everything a light navy blue. I checked my rucksack, relieved to see nothing had been stolen while I had slept and got down off the coach.
"What time is it please?" I asked the driver who was smoking next to the door.
"Half five," he replied, looking down briefly at his watch before taking me in.
Half five! I got on the coach at half midnight so I was now five hours away from Dublith and my family. I had never been so far away from them in my life. Surely no one would recognise me here.
"Thank you."
He nodded in reply, his eyes still staring at me intensely.
I looked around, trying to get some sort of bearings. Although I wasn't entirely sure how I was meant to do that, given this was the first time I had been to Central. I sincerely doubted I suddenly knew anything more about the place just because I was now here.
"You okay, girl?" It was the coach driver. He looked concerned.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you."
"You sure? Someone here to pick you up? You look a little lost."
Oh bugger. This was the last thing I wanted. I started to panic.
"I'm fine, seriously. I'm meeting a friend at seven. Miscalculated how long it would take the coach to get here!" I made a story on the spot and laughed nervously.
The coach driver continued to look at me, clearly not convinced.
"Do you know of an inn or something like that where I could wait for her? Somewhere near by?" I decided to carry on with my friend idea. When I had been caught doing something I wasn't allowed to do by the servants back at the estate I'd found the quickest way to get them off my back was to ask for their help with something. They would then assume I couldn't be up to no good if I was involving them. They then relaxed, helped me out and then left to let me get on with whatever I had been up to in the first place. I reckoned I could use the same tactic with the coach driver.
It seemed to work. I saw him visibly relax and he explained about how to get a nearby inn that was open to travellers this early in the morning.
"Tell them John Ball sent you, they'll look after you," he said with a slight smile. "I'd come with you and then wait to see you'd met up with your friend safely but unfortunately I've got to drive the coach in 10 minutes."
I smiled, thanked him and walked off in the direction he had pointed. There was no way in hell I was going to mention John Ball at the inn. I wanted as few links as possible. But an inn would be a good place to work out my next plan. I was still keen on joining the army, but I had literally no idea how to do that. I mean, I had no idea where I even was really.
I followed John Ball the coach driver's instructions and before long reached the inn – The Golden Bear. As he had said, it was open – "To Travellers" said a hand-written sign just outside. The 'Travellers' was underlined several times. I wondered why, shrugged and walked in. I was traveller after all, wasn't I?
Once I was inside, I looked around and walked towards one of the empty tables. I didn't have much experience with inns, but I had overheard some of the servants on the estate talk about their trips. Apparently when it was full, one went to the bar to order, but when less than half empty the staff came to you.
Given I was one of about three people in the inn – the other two sat on a table the other side of the room – I reckoned it would be table service. Indeed, it wasn't long until a tubby man with a grease stained shirt came out from what I supposed was the kitchen.
He saw me, gave me an unpleasant look and then came over.
"Out you! Didn't you see the sign? Travellers only! We don't accept your sort!"
I was very taken back at his words.
"Of course I saw the sign!" I retorted indignantly. "I am a traveller! What do you mean you don't accept my sort?"
At my words, the man dropped his abrasive attitude.
"Apologies, madam. We get unsavoury types in here. What can I get you?"
I ordered a cup of tea and wondered what he meant by unsavoury types. Part of me wondered if my friend the coach driver had deliberately sent me this way because of that very rule... The man nodded and headed back into the kitchen. Almost as soon as he disappeared two women, young but older than me, came through the door, looked around and made to leave again. However, on seeing me they stopped and then walked over.
"Alright if we sit here?" One asked. She had raven black hair and her eyes, though beautiful, had a hardness to them.
I nodded, a bit taken back.
The other girl, who had bright red hair, smiled and sat down next to me.
"How did you manage it?" She leaned over conspiratorially.
"I'm sorry..? How did I manage what?"
"How did you manage to make old man hypocrite over there let you in? He doesn't usually let us in, especially when his wife is actually here and not visiting her poor sick mother."
I still wasn't entirely sure what the woman was on about, but it was dawning on me that maybe she was one of these unsavoury types the man who took my drink order – who by the girls' tone was the inn landlord - had been on about it. Like any 18-year-old, I was immediately intrigued by the idea of an unsavoury person. And I was curious as to why she was calling him a hypocrite.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I merely told him I was a traveller. And asked him what he meant by not accepting my sort. That seemed to do the trick."
The woman with the dark hair had been looking over at the other inn clients but at my comment she turned back to me and laughed.
"How simple! And it clearly worked! We should try that – we are travellers after all!"
Her friend laughed back. "Yes, travelling from one end of this town distract to the other seeing if we can find any companions for the ride!"
I joined in their laughter, not entirely sure what the joke was.
The dark-haired woman went back to examining the other table, and seemed to give a smile when one of them turned round to look at her.
"Oooh.... that table, Claire. I think we've found what we've been looking for."
The red-haired woman, who I guessed was Claire, also looked over at the table.
"Perfect!" She almost sighed. "And two of them, fantastic." She suddenly turned back to me. "Unless you had designs on one of them?"
"Er... no, no. I didn't. Go ahead." It hit me that they were the famous ladies of the night I read about in some of the more scandalous romance stories I'd found in my grandfather's library. I was thrilled! Meeting actual 'soiled doves' who had probably been forced into selling themselves to pay off a father's debt or keep their love child fed!
Claire immediately got up and went over to the two men, but the dark-haired one tilted her head and looked at me closely, narrowing her eyes. I smiled nervously back at her and took a sip of my tea.
She clearly came to a conclusion, as she gave me a warm, almost motherly smile in return. "I'm Vanessa, by the way. What's your name?"
"Elizabeth." I took another sip of tea and then froze as Vanessa rose an eyebrow, clearly expecting my surname as well. "Dublith," I blurted out, not wanting to give my actual surname. "Elizabeth Dublith".
"And how old are you Elizabeth?"
"Eighteen." Vanessa seemed to be asking a lot of personal questions.
"And what you doing here?"
"Meeting a friend."
She hmmed, clearly not believing me.
"And what's this friend's name?"
"Uh...-" I tried to think of something but my mind was blank.
Vanessa smiled. "What are you really here for Elizabeth?"
I sighed, defeated. This woman obviously saw right through me.
"I want to join the army."
"Okay. Your family know you're here? That you want to do that?"
My silence told her everything. I licked my suddenly dry lips, wondering what I could offer her to not say or do anything.
There was no need. As Claire come back over scowling – her attempt to drum up business had clearly failed – Vanessa pulled me up to standing and swung my rucksack over her shoulder.
"Come on Elizabeth," Vanessa linked her arm in mine. "We'll take you to Madame Christmas'. Her son is in the army so she'll know when they come recruiting."
Notes:
Thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed it!
And thank you for leaving kudos and comments, they really make my day!
Chapter 3
Notes:
Disclaimer: I own the plot and any OCs mentioned. All FMA names belong to Hiromu Arakawa.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Madame Christmas turned out to run the brothel both Vanessa and Claire worked for, and before long I found myself working there too as a maid-of-all-work. Madame said if I was going to stay with her while awaiting for her son – and more importantly the recruiting Amestrian army – to turn up, I would have to earn my bed and board.
Something in her eyes dared me to challenge her, and I was smug about the surprise that filled them when I agreed without question. Unfortunately it was the only thing I ended being smug about for a while.
Being a maid-of-all-work was exhausting and relentless. And I was awful at it.
I had considered myself in good shape – fit even – before I ran away. I had walked and rode – the only acceptable exercise for a lady in my grandmother's opinion – every day. I'd played tennis and squash regularly with my brothers when they were around, and then with the servants or by myself against a wall when they weren't, obviously hiding from my grandmother regardless of who I was playing with.
I'd climbed countless trees and perfected my aim using one of my brothers' old slingshots until I could hit one of the tin cans I had "liberated" from the kitchen at 20 m everytime.
But just one day scrubbing on my knees, lugging buckets of water for bathing and trying to get stains out of clothes in a dolly tub at Madame's made me realise just how sedentary and easy my life before had been. I didn't bother getting dinner that first night and just went straight to bed instead, body aching and slept like the dead.
The next morning I could barely move I was so sore. The only thing that got me out of bed was Madame walking into the room I now shared with two others, asking if the work was too hard.
Once again, there was something in her expression which said she saw right through me, just as Vanessa had.
So I forced myself up to standing, told her everything was fine and walked out the room to get to work.
Madame came by my room everyday for two weeks. The first morning I woke up and she wasn't there, I considered it a small victory.
I claimed another a week later when after finishing work for the day, not only did I have enough energy to eat dinner, but also to watch from the shadows as Madame's girls chatted and flirted with punters in the salon downstairs.
I celebrated once again after a full month working at Madame's as I smiled in the mirror and ran my hands over newly developed muscles.
The muscles started to appear around the same time I realised what had it made so easy for Madame and Vanessa to suspect I was hiding something: my accent and hands. Both were far too clean and genteel to mark me out as anything else but a member of the gentry and the upper classes.
Luckily, my ongoing work for Madame was taking care of that. Day after day my hands lost their lily white softness and my cut glass accent softened to copy that of the women I worked with.
Two months after I had arrived in Central and I was almost unrecognisable from the girl that had run away from Grumman Manor – which was good as I was starting to hear more and more punters talk about the Duke's missing granddaughter and the reward offered for her return.
After one particularly talkative punter went into great detail about the effort my grandfather was making to find me, I went to find Madame to ask her the latest about where the Amestrian army was. Madame had not given any updates in a while and I was starting to feel suspicious.
She was talking to Vanessa in her office with the door closed so I started to walk away when I head my name mentioned.
"Elizabeth was asking about when the army was coming through again yesterday," Vanessa stated simply. "When are you going to tell her they've been and gone?"
Wait. What? The army has been and gone? The news had me frozen to the spot.
"I'm not," Madame replied coolly. "And neither you nor any of the other girls are to mention they've moved to Kipppax, understood?"
My mouth dropped open as she continued talking.
"Elizabeth is hiding something. I don't know exactly what yet, but I'll get to the bottom of it sooner or later."
Vanessa hummed in agreement as I felt anger at the betrayal course through me.
"You still think she's the Duke's missing granddaughter?"
"No, I don't actually. Not any more. She works far too hard for a noble woman who has never even lifted a finger before. Still, I suspect she comes from a well-off family who would be only too grateful to have her back – if you get my drift?" She and Vanessa started to laugh, and I finally regained control of my limbs.
I moved silently away from Madame's office, being careful not to stop on any of the squeaky floorboards which would give away my position. I finished my day's work and then went upstairs to my bed in the attic. I knew no one would notice my absence, it was Friday, the biggest night of the week and it would all hands on deck.
The anger at Madame and Vanessa – both of whom I had stupidly trusted – had been seething through me all afternoon but the manual labour had given me time to think. The good news was that Madame no longer thought I was the Duke's missing granddaughter. The downside was that she had at one point, and she still thought she could find out where I had come from and send me back there. That wasn't going to happen as long as I could still draw breath. I was so close to the army now – and no one was going to stop me now.
I sighed, and dug out my brother's old rucksack from under my bed. There was no choice for it. I was going to have to run again.
I waited until 10 pm, when I knew the downstairs' rooms would be at their busiest then sneaked out towards the bus station. I arrived at the same time as a bus on its way to East City. It said on the window it was stopping at Kipppax and I grinned as I got on. Things were looking up again.
Xxxxxx
One overnight bus, a few questions at the market taking place in Kipppax's main square and I was standing in front of an army recruiter.
"You signing up or not?" The man looked at me expectantly.
"Yes," I said quickly.
He gave me a look, almost on the verge of saying something then clearly changed his mind.
"Name?" His pen was posed over a form.
"E-Riza." I said, remembering that giving my full first name at Madame Christmas' had almost seen me sent back to my grandfather's.
"And last name?" The army recruiter asked with a sigh. He was clearly thinking he didn't get paid enough to deal with idiots like me.
"Hawkeye. My name is Riza Hawkeye." Hawkeye had been my father's name before he had married my mother and taken on her family name.
"Sign here." I picked up the pen he offered and felt a sense of pride as I signed my new name for the first time.
"Take this and join that line over there," the recruiter pointed towards a queue leading towards a tent. "Physicals. Pass that and you're in."
I took the sheet and joined the queue behind a tall blonde man. I was a bit surprised that it seemed so easy to sign up. The Amestrian army was known for being one of the best in the world and so I had assumed it would be harder to join.
The queue for physicals moved faster than I expected and before long I was in a tent with a woman doctor. I couldn't help but be jealous of her. I had dreamt of being a doctor once, studying at a university before going on to help people. I had foolishly mentioned this to my mother when I was nine. She had laughed, almost sadly, and said people like us didn't do things like that. When I asked what people like us were meant to do then, she raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Rule, of course. Well, your brothers will. You will marry well, as you are told, and have children." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "The same life your grandmother and I lead." Her hand had trembled as she put the china cup of tea she had been drinking down on its matching saucer. She had then sat on her hands and bid me to return to my piano practice.
Even at the age of nine I couldn't think of anything worse. My mother and grandmother's lives revolved around village gossip, the new flowers the gardeners were planting and buying new dresses to meet up with other upper class women to discuss yet more gossip. I had wanted something more. And here I was, nine years – half of my lifetime - later.
The doctor went through the standard questions about where I was from, date of birth and place of birth.
I stuck as close as possible to the truth to make it easier if I was ever put on the spot later on. Luckily I hadn't actually been born at the time and place registered on my birth certificate. I had been born four days earlier in a small village outside my grandfather's domain. In order to keep up appearances, Lady Elizabeth Grumman was registered as having been born after my mother returned to the Dukedom's main castle. It wouldn't be done for the daughter of the first female member of the Grumman family in 400 years to have been born anywhere but her ancestral home after all.
The doctor gave me a hard look when I mentioned that I had previously worked at a brothel.
"What was your profession there?"
"Maid of all work."
"Just a servant?" She raised an eyebrow.
I flushed and started stuttering. "Um... yes-s-s-s."
She smirked and turned back to the form.
"We carry out tests anyway but I doubt there will be anything to worry about."
I cursed my behaviour inwardly. If only I hadn't been caught off-guard. Having it down in my notes I was a former prostitute would have only strengthened my disguise. I was going to have be more alert in the future.
I fumed inwardly as I answered the doctor's remaining questions on childhood diseases and then undressed quickly so she could finish her evaluation.
She looked me over and then gently nudged my legs open.
"Nothing amiss there." She motioned for me to get dressed again.
"I assume you're not sleeping with anyone?"
I nodded in agreement.
"Okay." She made a note on my file. "You'll have another examination if that situation changes. STIs spread like wildfire through army camps."
I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that so kept my month shut.
The doctor signed off my forms – I seemed to have acquired another one at some point – and handed them back to me with a smile.
"You've passed your physical, Private Hawkeye. Welcome to the military!"
I took them from her surprised.
"That's it? No tests to check how fit I am?"
She smiled again.
"The Amestrian army prides itself on being able to take almost any citizen and turning them into a first-rate soldier. Your base fitness levels will be tested in basic training. Inevitably they will not be up to scratch-" She saw a worried look on my face.
"Don't worry! They never are. But you'll be okay. You're in rather good shape compared to most of the people who pass through my tent and they've gone to pass basic training with no problems. You'll be running drills until your levels are deemed acceptable. You'll get muscles in places you didn't think muscles existed and you'll curse the day you ever heard the military was recruiting." She shuffled the papers in front of her. "But you'll sleep well."
"How come?" I asked, remembering the first few days at Madame Christmas'.
She laughed. "You'll be too exhausted to do anything else! Out you go, Private. Head towards the white tent. You'll get your equipment and your hair cut there."
And with that she gently but firmly pushed me out of her own red tent.
Xxxxxxx
Twenty minutes later and I was staring at my reflection in the mirror. My hair had been cut short. Really short. And I liked it.
My hair had always been long, down to the middle of my back. I had worn it as a long plait, either hanging down my back or wrapped round my head like a garland on special occasions. I had worn it down in public undone twice, at the funeral of an uncle I barely knew and for a week in mourning when the old King died.
But it had been long for as long as I could remember. I could never recall a time when I hadn't felt the swing of my plait as I moved my head or felt relief as I untied it and massaged my scalp at the end of the day. I had spent hours every week brushing and washing it – even when working in Central. To have long hair was a symbol of fertility, a sign that one could be a good wife and mother.
And now my plait lay on the floor and my hair was cropped close to my neck and head. It revealed cheekbones I never knew I had. I felt a breeze caress my neck and smiled. I never again would I be unable to sleep in summer because my hair trapped the heat. Never again would it take me hours to brush tangles out.
I smiled at the man who had cut my hair and picking up my small bag of belongings, walked to the next station, running my hands over and over my head. It felt like something new and wondrous. Which I supposed it was.
At the next station I was given my new army uniform. Well, new to me in any case. It was clear the uniform had been worn before – there were patches and repair marks all over it, but it was clean. Three plain muddy woollen jumpers, five plan muddy green cotton t-shirts, three sludge brown pairs of trousers with what seemed like thousands of pockets – which I was told were called cargo trousers –, a black belt, seven pairs of woollen green socks, a pair of black combat boots with laces all up the sides, a felt green cap and seven sets of underwear. A woman had recited every item to me by rote as she put it in a muddy green bag with long handles that she called a kit bag. Once she was done, she handed it over and pointed towards one of many curtained off areas.
"You can get changed behind there. Put your civvies – your civilian clothes – in your kit bag. We have a strict uniform only rule on base."
I nodded and headed off towards the area she had pointed out.
"Wait!"
I turned around. She was brandishing a black marker pen.
"You need to put your name on your clothing. The neckband for tops, waistband for bottoms and soles for socks and boots."
I took the pen without comment and went to complete my transformation from Lady Elizabeth Grumman, only granddaughter of the Duke of Dublith to Riza Hawkeye, private with the Amestrian army.
I made the transformation sound glamorous in my head, the reality was very different. I tried desperately hard not to fall over as I undressed, suddenly finding it difficult to take off my so-called civvies, painfully aware of the woman dealing out uniforms and my fellow soldiers in the curtained off areas next to me. It was only when I was down to my underwear that I realised it would have been more sensible to name my uniform before I had started undressing. I sighed and shook my head at my lack of foresight and got on with writing my new name on every item of clothing as instructed. Riza Hawkeye became more and more real every time I wrote the name out in thick, black marker. I marked the last item and smiled at the pile of clothes happily. Then set out actually getting dressed, starting obviously with the basics.
The underwear was a bit confusing. I knew what to do with the shorts, although they couldn't have looked more different from the lacy, silky things I was used to wearing. They were plain, hard-wearing linen with a string tied belt around the edge which I assumed was to stop them from falling down my hips.
The other bit however... I guessed it was meant to be my corset. It looked like one of my grandfather's waistcoats had had the bottom cut off and the buttons replaced with string laces. Although there was no way in hell my grandfather would have worn something as plain as the item in front of me. It was made out of the same plain, off-white linen as the shorts.
I stared at it, trying to work out how it provided support.
Finally I took a deep breath, took off the slightly boned, figure-shaping corset I had been wearing consistently since I had ran away a couple of months ago, wincing slightly at the thought of how dirty it was now, and put the top on.
Once it was on I worked out that there were actually four different string laces which tied together in different ways. The top and bottom ones actually ran all the way around top and bottom edge of the garment respectively, while the middle ones were laced in a criss-cross fashion pulling the top together. It gave more support than I had initially thought. It didn't make it any prettier, I thought grumpily to myself, before scolding myself pointing out I was in the army now and prettiness of my underwear was not something I needed to concern myself about.
When I had finally finished getting dressed, I pulled back the curtains feeling very heavy with the combat boots on.
The uniform woman gave me a cursory glance and nodded towards the next station.
I heaved the bag over my shoulder and headed over to be told I would be bunking in the female privates section, tent 5, bed C. I hesitated, expecting more information, such as directions to where said tent 5 was, but the man in charge had already moved on to the next recruit.
I took a deep breath and walked off towards a group of tents not too far away.
I had been walking around the buildings for at least 30 minutes looking for some sort of sign to give me some vague idea of where I was when I bumped into another soldier.
He was about half a head taller than me, with messy dark hair and piercing black eyes. He was extremely good looking and filled out the army jumper and coat he was wearing nicely.
"What are you doing around here, Private?"
Notes:
Kipppax is actually a place in Amestris - I've spent far too much time looking at the map recently to make sure everything matched up!
I would like to point out to anyone expecting Roy to turn up in this chapter that technically he did... just maybe not the way you hoped!
Thanks so very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it - please leave kudos/comments if so as they always make my day and fight off the dreaded writers' block!