Every once in a while, when I glance at my reflection, I see a dark, horned figure with glinting eyes standing behind me. It may be peering from behind a stone archway, observing me in a deserted corridor, or simply standing in the room. When I blink or turn around, it vanishes. It does not appear when I am surrounded by people. Only when I am alone.

I first remember spotting this creature in my hand mirror when I was thirteen. I was inspecting my face before greeting guests in our dining hall. My sister Nell told me I still had flour on my nose from assisting the cook and she ran from our bedroom before I could throw a slipper at her. I had picked up my hand mirror and nearly dropped it in terror. The creature stood in the doorway, taller than me. It was shadowy and unclear as though I was peering through a steamy window. When I turned to look at the doorway and then back in the mirror, there was no trace of it. I have attempted to draw this figure, but I give up every time as it looks like a mess of charcoal on the paper.

Now I am nineteen, and Nell has married a man of some kind (he is quite dull) and I live here with Mother and Father and the servants and our animals. I know my time is coming - Nell’s marriage is not enough to satisfy our family and our world’s ways. That scares me more than any spirit in the mirror.

“Amelia!”

I stroke my horse’s nose in the afternoon sun. He is called Spring because he gets excited when we ride in the woods and jumps as though he has a rabbit’s soul.

Flies float around our heads as I prepare him for our ride in the courtyard. I really shouldn’t be doing this. We have guests for dinner. Again.

“Amelia!”

“Come on then,” I murmur to Spring. “Let’s flee before she catches us.”

“Amelia! I know you can hear me.”

Mother abandons calling from the window and hurries outside just as I mount Spring and grasp the reins. Mother is a tall woman whose appearance is nothing short of perfection. Her hair is neat, her dresses spotless, her mind sharp.

“Amelia, you do simply not have the time for this nonsense, you need to bathe, have one of the girls brush your hair - ”

“Mother, I won’t be long,” I insist. “I promise. Spring needs his exercise and so do I.” I have a glimmer of an idea. “If I am to meet all of the Whittons tonight, I must have some time to myself to prepare.”

Mother looks surprised but pleased. “Well - I suppose you need to prepare - yes. Best behaviour and everything. But you know, Harry is already very sweet on you.”

“And I him,” I say. It’s true. I smile. “I had better be going, Mama. I will be back with plenty of time to spare.”

And with that, Spring and I hasten to the woods. We leave the sun behind as we enter the cool canopy of trees. It is quieter here, which is why I like it. There are no mirrors. No reminders of how I have fallen short of expectations, either mine or others’. Just nature in its wild, soft explosions of plants and earth.

I am grateful, of course, to my family. They allow me to do things other women may not. I know Mother has this streak in her too, and Father loves her for it. I know the tree on which she would practise her archery.

My mind drifts to Harry as Spring takes us to the glade. I cannot see my reflection, just the vague blurred images of the trees’ branches as they dip their leaves in the water. Taking Harry as a husband would be not only a duty, but a pleasure. But sometimes, particularly after an activity where he does not seem as interested as he has been previously, I come away feeling small and cold. The opposite occurs when his face breaks into a smile in my presence and coaxes an excitement out of me to be in his. It makes me worry. Of losing myself. Of losing this. I can only hope he would not lose his mind if he sees me galloping off on my horse on a whim and reading as many books as I can. There is more of me to know. And, of course, more to learn about him.

I slide off Spring and run my fingers through his mane. Then I sit at the glade’s edge and bend over to scoop the water.

I gasp as I spot an old, ornate mirror lying under the surface.

Without thinking, I reach in, soaking my sleeves, and pull the mirror from the water. I stand it up and stare at the glass, and sure enough, there is my demon. It sits on the edge of a glade in its world of reflection.

“What do I do, creature?” I ask, and I blink.

For the first time, the creature stays and does not vanish. I rest my palms on the cool barrier between us and it mirrors me to the same moment.

And now is when I realise, it is no demon. No malicious spirit, no ghost.

It is me.

What I am, what I could be, what I hold back from the world and not what I choose to reflect. I understand I have a choice. I can run off on Spring if I want to. I can change my name, change my appearance. I can stay and marry. I can stay unmarried for all of my days. There will be consequence and sacrifice borne of all my choices. This creature is me, free, and scorned upon by this world.

Looking at my companion, I trace its horns and claws with a finger.

“You never scared me, even when I was a girl,” I say softly. “It was the shock when you first appeared, but I know who you are now. And I accept you as mine. I will face this life anew. If you accept.”

The creature smiles, showing sharp little teeth, and slowly melts away as though I breathed on the glass.

I feel my chest glow. Spring nudges my shoulder with his head. It is time to go.