Hi guys! So here is Chapter 1! I decided to go a little bit faster in the story's rythm so it would not get to boring, you know! I hope you will enjoy it, and thank you for reading!
Paris 1868
Paris was loud. Paris was messy. But Paris was alive. Clémence loved this city, as nasty and noisy as it was. Looking through the window of the carriage, she admired the people, circulating in the streets. The vehicle finally stopped in front of a mansion in the district of 'L'Ile Saint Louis': Arno Dorian's 'Café-Théâtre'. That is where Master Deschamps and Lucile were living; their home was a legacy from Master Dorian.
"Mademoiselle." The coachman said, offering the young lady his hand to get off.
"Thank you."
She inspected the street, it had not much changed since her last visit. The Notre Dame de Paris bells were ringing in the twilight. She watched the foul water of the Seine flowing below for a few seconds: she knew that right under her was the Assassins' lair and felt safer, home. Lucile grabbed her hand gently, driving her inside.
"You must be starving! I will ask Marie to cook something for us; come on!"
They penetrate into the backyard, where some hens were clucking and pecking and then, they reached the kitchen. The two girls ate and talked for a while before they were sent to bed. The next day, they had to meet the Martin, their "host-family" and on the same evening, Clémence was supposed to 'obtain' Clutcher's hand.
"Clémence! One last thing, bring me your outfit and weapons once you've changed your clothes. I will send them to Henry Green, so you will not have to travel with it."
"Henry Green? The Green I know?"
"Indeed, my dear. He is one of our brothers you will meet there. Him and the Frye twins, Jacob and Evie."
Clémence had met Henry Green a year before, during her trip in the Capital, he was an Indian Assassin. At this moment, she was both glad and relieved. Glad because she liked Mister Green as he was a smart and kind person, and relieved because it meant she will not be completely alone once there.
"But… Master Deschamps? What if Clutcher does not choose me?"
"Oh believe me Clémence, he will. You have to make sure he does."
His ton was still friendly but he made her understand clearly she could not fail. Anxiety was now knotting her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a second to calm down before slowly nodding.
"Alright, I will bring you everything you need in your office. Have a good night."
"You too, little bird."
{°°°¨**-~-**¨°°°}
This night, the young lady had a hard time falling asleep. Too much thoughts were assaulting her mind. Even if she wouldn't admit it, she was frightened. Killing Templars is a thing, infiltrating them by marrying one is another. The worst part being that she would be totally vulnerable in London, unable to defend herself. And the slightest misstep would be deadly for her. Not that she was afraid of dying but, if the Templar came to catch her, they would do to her things way worse than killing her. Then, what if the Assassins were wrong? What if Clutcher could actually have children, what if she got pregnant for him? Charles would never forgive her. She then realized she missed him more than she thought she would; his warm embrace, his sweet lips, his delicate scent. Clémence sighed, a hug would have been welcomed at this very moment, but she was alone. Desperately alone.
When she finally joined the land of slumber, the sun was almost rising.
{°°°¨**-~-**¨°°°}
"You are gorgeous, child. If he doesn't pick you. Then he is fool!" Madame Martin claimed.
Joséphine Martin was a small kind lady, always wearing colorful dresses. She had thick black hair, little hazel eyes and generous curves. Her husband was a middle-aged bookkeeper, discrete yet nice. He was cold-eyed man, a bit stiff with graying hair and dark blue eyes. They were considered as new riches in Paris' society.
The wife was currently standing in front of Clémence, smoothing her dark-blue dress. The gown was gorgeous, made in a precious textile: some deep blue velvet dotted with sophisticated golden thread motifs.
"Madame Martin is right, Clémence!" Lucile responded, arranging her ringlets into a complicated hairstyle to which she added some small white flowers.
The Assassin glanced at her reflection in the mirror; she was pretty but not exceptionally gorgeous neither. Shrugging to herself, she looked away. Joséphine finally gave her a fake diamond necklace to 'highlight her eyes' as she said.
"Ladies! We must leave now; our carriage is here!" Called Monsieur down from upstairs.
"Good luck Clémence! You can do it!" Lucile told her, kissing her on the cheek.
On the way to the ball, neither the Martin nor Clémence said a word. The torment of silence ended when they arrived, to be quickly replaced by fear.
Peter Clutcher was a forty years old, charming man, tall with brown hair and grey eyes. Also, Clémence did not have difficulty to get noticed by him. Her story was simple: Clémence Martin, eighteen years old, orphan. Raised in the province by her grandparents, her aunt and uncle had to welcome her after her tutors' death. She was a smart, pretty and well educated young lady just waiting for someone to take her as a wife.
Her seduction game went all night as she delighted all Clutcher's friends (including Templars). She was not the prettiest, but after a few glasses of alcohol, some smart and funny comments, she became, at least, the most charming and interesting young person in the room. The next day, a proposition was made to the Martin and a week later, they were married. Everything happened so fast Clémence felt lost. Clutcher was attentive to her as she was now "Mrs. Clutcher", maybe too much. He was looking for a wife so she could give him descendants, he did not really care of the rest, once he'd be a father, he'd not need her anymore.
Lucile was finally introduced as Clémence's very distant cousin, and Peter, thrilled, accepted to take her with them in London. The three of them remained a week at a Hotel and it had been decided that the wedding night will happen once they arrived in their mansion, in England.
As the departure day finally arrived, they embarked in a liner after fond farewell to the Martin. Clémence and Lucile had this lump in their stomach as the liner moved away from the coast. They looked at each other and gently, the new bride took the young girl's hand, giving her a reassuring gaze.
"How is my dear wife doing?" The Templar asked her, brushing her cheek with his gloved hand.
The gesture made her sick, he smelled like cigars and alcohol. She stiffed a little but tried to look as casual as possible.
"Fine, thank you, dear."
"Great. I promise you will absolutely love London; it is the most beautiful city in the world. Even more beautiful than Paris! I cannot wait to be finally home: we still have something to celebrate." He whispered to her ear, with an obscene ton.
Her all body tensed but she did not say anything, only smiled. This man was repulsing to her: more than once he touched her in an indecent way. If only she'd have had her hidden blade, she would have stopped him from touching her. As they were sitting, he slowly slid his hand along her thigh, under her white dress. Her eyelids shut, she suppressed the bloodthirsty pulse that came to her. Lucile, realizing what was happening pressed her hand softly. All her life, Clémence had been trained to kill the people who were a danger to her and now, she had to let herself go. And it is really hard to imagine how frustrating it was to be powerless. Unfortunately, this was only the beginning of her sentence.
{°°°¨**-~-**¨°°°}
London, 1868
"Hum. Remind me what we are doing here once again Greenie?"
"Oh Jacob, do you ever listen to people?"
"Calm down sweet sister, I might have fallen asleep during the boring part."
"We are waiting for Clutcher to show up with his new wife, a sister, coming from France, to make sure she is okay, you are hopeless!"
Henry Green was currently sitting at a table reading a book, in a house right in front of Clutcher's mansion. With him, Jacob and Evie Frye, twins and Assassins. Evie was leaning on her elbows, at the window and her brother was lying on a couch, looking at the ceiling, humming something.
"I am sure they will be there in a minute." Evie said, going to sit next to Mister Green.
"Haven't you say that, like, an hour ago?" Jacob asked provocatively.
"Jacob, for God's sake, shut up."
Henry Green laughed softly; the Fryes' arguments have always amused him for the short time he knew them. He got used to it after a few weeks.
After a while, Jacob, who was playing with the shilling around his neck, broke the silence.
"I maintain what I am saying: Elliotson must die."
Evie attentively watching Henry Green while he was reading, said distractively:
"If you say so, dear brother."
"Bloody hell, next time I will leave the two of you alone, I hate being the third wheel." He mumbled.
Evie suddenly shook her head, hearing her brother saying this. She could not show such interest into Mister Green. He was a brother and it had to remain so. Irritated, her twin stood up and reached the window, looking outside. Just in time to see a carriage stop in front of Clutcher's house.
"Fellows? I think our friends are here."
The two other Assassins got up and joined him to watch the spectacle. Clutcher got off of the carriage and helped a lady to do so.
"She seems a little young to be an Assassin and to fit into this clothes." Jacob commented, showing Clémence's gear, on the table.
"That is because it is not her, my friend. This girl is Lucile Deschamps."
"And who is Lucile Daishampes?"
"Deschamps." Her sister corrected him, exceeded. "She is the daughter of the Master Assassin Pierre Deschamps, the leader of Paris's Brotherhood. She must be Miss Dorian." She pointed the finger at Clémence.
Jacob did not answer after that, enchanted by the view of the young lady. Her long curly chestnut brow hair was caressing her back and framed her pretty square face. For a few second, she raised her eyes and met his look. The young French girl recognized Henry and identified the two others as the Frye. Relief illuminated her face as she stared silently back at Jacob, puzzled and attracted by the wild handsomeness facing her. She finally looked away, following her new husband in the mansion.
"Wait a second Greenie, you are telling me this angel is one of us?"
"She is, Jacob."
"Well, what a delightful creature!"
{°°°¨**-~-**¨°°°}
"It is time to go to bed now, Lucie."
"Lucile, Sir."
"My apologies. Well you have understood anyway, didn't you?"
"Yes, Sir. Have a good night."
The teenager got up and left the room, glancing sadly at Clémence. She knew what was coming next.
"My lady, may I show you the way to our room?"
Clémence stiffened as she nodded; she accepted the arm he was offering and followed him. The nightmare she lived did not end before dawn, and when it was finally over, she rolled on her side, wrapping herself into a white sheet, and started to cry silently.
So, that's it for chapter one! Tell me what you thought about it and if you liked it! I am already working on chapter 2 but it will certainly take more time to write it. Have a great day guys, and thank you for reading it!
