The Runaway Bride

A/N:

This story is set in the Victorian era. I love this era so I wanted to write a story based on it. In this era they did have make-up, but it was very limited. I did a little research before writing this, but comment if anything is wrong.  Please comment/vote, it'll encourage me to write more! Hope you enjoy x ALSO: on the cover it says 'floodedyouth', that is my other account. I had that cover made with the expectation of it being published on there, but I decided on it being published on here. Just thought i'd clear that up! 

 ♥

Mother's wrinkled hands pulled the laces of the corset. It coiled around my body like a python constricting it's prey. 

"This is ridiculous, mother." She pulled the corset tighter. "I don't love him. I haven't met him, yet I am to be wed?"

She tied the back and patted my back, signalling me to pull on my gown. She laughed without humor. "What? You think that you'll fall in love?" My body tensed.

"Your father and I weren't in love, look at our success."

I felt the tears well up. "Do you not care for me?" She wrung the same mud-colored hair I had in a tight knot and sighed. 

"Of course, dear. But this has to be done. You will be wed in two weeks."

My mothers nod of confirmation sealed my mouth shut. Her word has always stayed, not once in my life have I seen her break it. And that made my blood boil. 

"You're pathetic!" I snapped. I earned a short slap to my right cheek. 

"You will never speak to your mother in that manner, understood." I glared at her. Her hand rose and I flinched.

"Yes, mother." I was to be wed in two weeks. 

♥

After a long day of faking smiles, curtsying and drinking tea, I was told I may return to my room.  We were a wealthy family that lived in Crest Manor in London. The manor was so large it'd often have to ask a maid for directions, and I've lived here my entire seventeen years. I'd always been lonely as a child, no siblings and only lifeless dolls to keep me company. I got tired of them after a while.

I pushed the heavy wooden door to enter my large bedroom. The beige walls enveloped me in it's warmth and I let out a much needed sigh. I loosened my corset and changed into my sleeping robes. My bed was by far my favorite thing in the entire manor. It's was large, as big as somebody's normal room, it had fluffy green sheets and sparkling white pillows. Sometimes i'd pretend I was an angel on top of a cloud. A heard a soft knocking at the door. Who would knock at this hour? I climbed out of bed and padded over the to the door.

A tall, lean boy was standing in front of me. He had messily tousled blonde hair, in a way that made it look, I cannot believe I will think such things but, attractive. His hazel eyes bored into my blue ones. Mason, my best friend.

"Mistress," His smooth velvet voice greeted, bowing his head. "You are to be dressed and ready at the pavilion." I gave him a closed mouth smile.

I turned around, thinking he left. I shuffled through my large closet, pulling the different fabrics. "May I suggest,"  I spun around quickly. He didn't seem fazed. He reached forward and caressed the navy blue dress mother shipped in from Paris, the one with the small moons and stars. "this one?" He pulled the dress out.

"Okay, thank you, Mason." I hesitantly grabbed the dress, our fingers brushing. I looked away, feeling my cheeks heat up. This had been happening since I was sixteen, I would blush at the simpliest of gestures. He was my best friend. Nothing more. But this would be forbidden. A butler with me. Father would curse the day. He bowed again, before swiftly leaving. 

I made my way to the bathroom, which held my make-up. I sat on the stool in front of the large mirror and surveyed my appearance. The same pale skin and brown hair both my mother and father shared. I had my mother's blue eyes, the ones that people would envy. But I despised them. I was slim like my mother, unlike my father who was a thick-boned, jolly man. I rubbed some of the rice power on my face, a practise almost all women did. I grabbed the charcoal pencil and drew a small black heart on my left cheek. 

I added some herbal dye to my lips for the crimson color then applied some pomade over the dye. I let my hair flow freely, save for a piece on the side that I held back with my favorite golden beetle pin. Once I was ready I slipped on the dress.

I slipped silently down the stairs and out of the manor, across the garden and towards the pavilion. The garden's occupants, fireflies, were sifting through the wind. I climbed up the stairs of the pavilion, to be met with the sight of my father and a large menacing-looking man. He had a defined jaw and a large scar on his left cheek. His large jelly was dying to burst out of his waist-coat.

"Iris," Father smile, patting the seat next to the man. I ignored him and took the seat in the middle of the table. From the corner of my eye I spotted Mason bringing a large tray of tea over. 

"Iris, dear, I'd like you to meet Mr. Harrison, your groom." My muscles tightened and I stared at the man in horror. He was grinned broadly, showing his yellow canines. "I-i," I couldn't speak. This man appeared to be forty, if not fifty. My stomach churned. 

"I'm going to have fun with you..." The man slurred quietly, I could feel his alcohol-ridden breath hit my face. I tried not to gag. Mason's jaw's tensed and his fists clenched, but he sat obediently waiting for an order. My father, innocent and oblivious, was laughing about the rise of tax this past year. I felt sick. I could not get married to this man. 

"F-father, I am going to bed, it's awfully late," I curtsied. "Nice meeting you, Sir." It was terrible meeting you, I meant. I rushed down the stairs and ran with the wind to the manor. When I arrived to my bedroom my lungs were heavy. 

"Miss," The voice startled me and I gasped. Mason was standing in front of the bed, a empty suitcase in hand. "We must go."

"What?"

He sighed. "I can't explain, but we must leave. You cannot get married to that man."

"But, where would we go?"

"Ireland." He replied shortly.

"Ireland?" I asked, dumbfounded. 

I fiddled with my hands, my breath hitched. "My family, my life, my friends..."

"Iris," He said. I narrowed my eyes. "You have me." He grinned. He threw a large luggage bag at me and I caught it just in time.

"Come on, pack your stuff. We don't have long."

♥

Mason waited patiently by the door as I gave a final look at my bedroom. I couldn't decide what to leave and take, so I ended up taking everything. Mason was hauling a luggage bag and I was holding a pouch and another suitcase. By the time we sneaked out of the manor, 'it had to be past three a.m'. Mason told me that but only staring at the stars and the moon, it puzzled me to no end. Mason and I walked on the cobble stone paths and the chilly night wind prickled my arms. I shivered.

"Iris, you're cold, aren't you?" 

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. "No."

He laughed. "You're a bad liar, Iris." His slow voice made me shiver, but not from the cold. He pulled off his coat before I could protest he wrapped the dark fabric around me. My body immediately warmed and I tried not to sniff the apple cider and vanilla scent that wafted through. "Thanks." I mumbled. 

We hopped on a train that would take us to the harbour and from there we would take a four day trip boat to Ireland. 

"Why are you doing this for me?"

He shrugged. "What are you talking about?"

I frowned. "Don't play dumb."

He sighed. "Let's just say, I'm your guardian. That's what best friends do." He winked. I couldn't ignore the chills that rushed down my arms. Best friend, I reminded myself curtly. 

I pouted. "No fair." His eyes drifted to my lips momentarily then back to my eyes. Why was I being such a harlot?! 

We arrived at the station. "Here we go." Mason clasped his lean fingers around my hand and pulled me onto the train.