The yards of white silken fabric cascaded around me like wisps of shimmering clouds. The sounds of voices around me all collided into one blur of noise. I wanted to tare the constricting corset and dress away from my body. To smash each and every fresh water peal that adorned it. The tailor was on his knees inspecting my hem. I had the unfathomable urge to kick him in the face and make him take back the dress. A slight blush spread to my cheeks as I banished away the unruly thoughts. Ladies of my social class did not go around kicking their tailors in the face and ruining the expensive dresses they made.

The face in mirror didn’t look like my own. In her eyes you could see a burning passion of some kind and fake interest spread across her face. I knew I should be happy; I was to be wed to a gentleman of the highest class in New York. Our engagement had been in the gossip section of the Gazette for months. It was to be the wedding of this generation. The two richest families in New York married before the summer’s end.

The tailor stepped back to examine his handiwork. I had to admit the dress was beautiful, intricate pale blue lace embellished the corset, with the pearls and white silk flowing in the skirt. My pale white shoulders were exposed; the older women of society would have something to say about that no doubt. I would be what they called “A vision in white” and I frowned at the reflection. A far different vision came to me than one of white purity.

I could see myself already hosting all of the extravagant parties and running a charming house and bearing handsome children. My whole life playing out as society wanted it to and not according to my own master plans.

My mother already had me gathered into her arms. She was happier than I was about the engagement. She had been the one who accepted the proposal even before I found out about it. She took my arm in hers and walked me to the dressing room, helping me out of the yards of constriction and back into the dress I had worn to the shop.

Our coach was waiting on the street and the coachman helped my mother and myself into the carriage. Our mansion was set next to other large houses of modern and exquisite architecture. I frowned upon then all; all anyone cared about now was the rich and the fashionable. They said the dream was out west, in the great unknown. The papers said that a man could get rich in a day and have the adventure of a life time. I barely noticed the steps beneath me and the marble tile of the vestibule. Trains left the station everyday for the great expanse of the west. All it would take is a hundred dollars; that would be enough for the train ticket and a good start. A girl could breathe out there, no more corsets, no ghastly expensive dresses for every occasion. A chance to work for your life and not just the money you were born or married into.

I thought of all the new possibilities as I ascended the grand staircase to my bedchamber. My personal maid unlaced my corset and brought my clothing down to the servants’ quarters to get washed and I slipped into the silk negligee I wore to bed. ‘All it would take is a hundred dollars’ I kept repeating inside of my head as I slipped into a restful night’s sleep that was filled with plans of a new future of my own design.