The Freedom I Want

Good for nothing heels, that’s all they were.

I could only thank God for my tripping in no one’s presence but my own. The carriage man snickered behind me, as I mentally kicked myself for forgetting him. No matter, the lowly likes of him did not concern me.

Gather the ends of my gown in tight bunches, I pulled myself up without much trouble.

“Hmph.” I mumbled, trying to regain what little composure a woman of my age could muster.

“Queen Anne?” I heard the throaty voice of none other than Henry’s father- Sir Marcus- behind me.

“Yes?” clearing my throat, I stood before him a properly as I could manage.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

Yes, you barbarian, I am quite fine. I am not that elderly as to a simple fall would do me damage.

Yes, this is what I wanted to say, but, you see, a Queen must remain polite to her people, under no circumstances should she show her true emotion. My mother said it, and her mother, as well. I should like to teach it to Constance someday soon- I shall hope- but the girl seemed set on other things.

“Yes, Sir Marcus, I am quite well.”

“Good, good, that fall seemed rather painful.” The strangest thing was the true compassion I saw in his eyes- not mockery or humor- but the genuine care for my well-being.

“Yes. Well.” As he turned to go, to walk right past me, I felt the desire to stop him. “Thank you for your concern, Sir Marcus.”

“Marcus; please.” His smile seemed to be contagious.

“Very well- Marcus.”

“My Queen-…” he began, but I interrupted him.

“Anne.” I had never allowed any man, save for my late husband, to call me by my given name.

He smiled, “Why have you come to my home, Anne?”

“I thought Constance might fancy going home, eventually.” I laughed.

“Ah, my dear, I would have sent her in a carriage!” he placed his hand on my forearm.

“I should like to ride home with her, ‘tis all.”

“Fine, then.”

“And where might you be headed?” I asked.

As Marcus opened his mouth to answer, Constance burst through the door. We stood in a hallway of sorts, leading from the outskirts of the manor, to the garden.

“Mother?” she seemed quite shocked.

“Constance!” I approached her, enveloping her limp body into my arms, creating an awkward hug.

“Um, yes, hello…”

I had never been affectionate with my daughter, thus understood her confused expression. I felt the strange need to impress Marcus- not for Constance’s marriage, but for my own sake.

“Yes, well, we’ll be off now.” I grinned at Marcus like I never had before, grasping Constance’s hand in mine, dragging her towards the carriage awaiting us.

“Anne!” Marcus yelled from behind me.
“Anne?” I heard Constance whisper to herself.

“Yes?” I answering, twirling gracefully to see him.

“Perhaps Henry and Constance would like to go riding together the morning after next? I’m sure they’d appreciate some alone time.” Marcus suggested.

“Sounds splendid. I will see you then, Marcus. Good day.”

“Yes…” he muttered wistfully behind me.

But I had already fled. My emotions running high and confused, I nearly pushed Constance onto the awaiting carriage.

“Mother, what on earth just happened?” Constance asked as soon as our driver napped the door shut.

“I have not a clue what you mean.” I lied, studying my finger-tips.

“What are you doing here, to start?”

“Can not a mother come to take her child home?” I defended.

“You wanted to spy.” She crosser her arms over her chest, leaning back.

“Constance, you will not make ridiculas accusation toward your mother.” I scolded, though she spoke the truth.

She sighed, cupping her chin with her fingers, using her palm to support. She rested her elbow along the bottom window pane.

“Please, Constance, we’ve discussed posture!”

“Mother, was your marriage to father arranged?” she asked abruptly.

I was not suspecting the question.

“Why, yes, it was.”

“Did you love him?” she looked at me with her father’s mysterious green eyes.

“I think there are many types of love…” how to explain to such a small child?

“But did you love him, mother?”

“I… think I did, Constance. I think I did.”