I know, it is very hard to believe...one chapter within living memory of the previous one!

Wow!

Alright, I shall make this snappy.

Had a weekend without any studying, so I figured I'd actually enjoy myself for once and do some writing! Yay!

Thank you so much for the reviews!

I love you guys as much as Edward loves his cloak (which is a lot, by the way)!

Merci!

Alright, on with the story!

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And Enjoy!

"What madness is this?" Demanded another voice.

The Sheriff...I thought through the haze of pain. I felt hot blood on my hands.

"Your madness!" The whisperer was now loud, angry...Edward? "This is the master you are loyal to!" He cried, "A woman-killer! Are you not ashamed?"

Doors crashed open, accompanied with the cries of men. "The Noble's Men have arrived!" Suddenly, noise broke loose all around. Guns fired. Metal clashed. Curses were yelled.

"Oh Isabella," came his voice through the thick of it. Arms slid underneath me and I was hoisted up. I shrieked and howled. The pain! Oh sweet God!

"Hush, sweet Isabella."

I heard my breath, so shallow. It did not feel right...I choked out more blood.

Suddenly footsteps were rushing at as. Edward dropped his arm from under my knees, holding me only around the waist. Sword met sword, and there was cry from the other man. Without another thought, I was back in his arms again, and we were running. My vision darkened, and I knew we were off the stage.

"Is she alright?" This voice was younger, and worried.

Who would worry for me...I am just the girl from Norfolk...I do not matter...I am here...where is the house? Why isn't mother here? Father...he is home...why doesn't nanny warm the water? Faerie...and the knight...but...

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

"She is to be my betrothed..."

"Why did you not stop her!"

"I didn't have a – "

"Get out of my way. Now!"

Suddenly, I felt cool night air around me, and we were running. Or he was running...or we were both running...in a meadow...

"Noble!" Came the shout from someone, then quieter as they got close .

"Noble, what is happening? Who is she?" There were two people...

"Fetch my horse. We need her get to Madame Corban's, quickly."

"It was an ambush," Edward said as one person departed.

Ambush...yes it was. They said he had been there to confirm a business deal...but then they tortured him and killed him...and here is his fur coat...stained with blood...blood. It poured from me like water from a jug...

"Christ, she's not going to make it," said his companion.

"Hush!" Edward commanded.

I felt myself being lowered, gently being placed on the ground. I felt his presence next to me.

Just like I felt his presence when he whipped me...what was he meaning by brown eyes, anyway? Maybe I should ask him tomorrow...perhaps he won't be so angry then...but I was told not to pry...but why will he not tell me...

His hands were on me, feeling my hot forehead, "She's in a fever. Have you any water?"

"Here."

Suddenly, something cool was poured upon me.

I gasped, regaining a little sanity. I could make out his blurry figure through the haze of pain.

"My Lord," I choked out, "I'm so sorry!" I tried to move, "Ah!"

"Isabella," he whispered, gently pushing me back down, "There is nothing to apologize – "

"The note," I wept. "It fell...they found it...it's all m-my fault!"

"No, Isabella," he said, stroking hair from my face. "Nothing was your fault."

"Ungh," I groaned, and vomited more blood up. Blood was...everywhere. I could see my nightdress, the innocent white now dyed a brilliant red.

"We need to stem the flow..." I heard the ripping of fabric, and a horrible pressure upon my ribs. I threw up again, though I did not know what came up this time.

"Noble! Here!"

Edward stood up. I heard the clip clop of hooves...

And how they would be loud in my ears...the great beasts towering above me as he threw me into the stable when I had misbehaved...their stench, their snorts and neighing...so big...so scary...I must not talk back again...I must not laugh...I must not speak...

"Ah!" I cried out as I was suddenly lifted.

"Hush, Isabella," said Edward, "Please, just for this moment. We cannot get caught, not with you like this...Jonah, help me..." With four hands on me, I was pushed onto the beast.

Edward held me there from the ground, "One of you take her, I must return to the Swan."

"My Lord, do not."

"I must. I will not have them fight for me if I am not among them."

"She needs you...and you will not be sane for a brawl if you are not with her."

"Howard is right," said someone else, "The battle is almost over, anyway. They know we have the upper hand. They will not stay long. Go with her."

"Tell them to retreat," he sighed. "There has been enough bloodshed. Meet me at Madame Corban's. I want regular reports."

He swung into the saddle behind me. The pressure returned to my ribs, and I moaned. My hood was pushed up. "Please, Isabella. Try to be silent. I need to get you there as quickly as possible...it will be painful...just..."

"I understand," I whispered.

We set off at a gallop.

It was pure agony, but I did not make a sound.

I just sunk into unconsciousness against Lord Edward's chest.

*T*L*

Reality and hallucinations became entwined. I felt myself being pulled from a horse even as I ran through the village, searching for the book merchant who had been rumoured to be passing through. I heard Lord Edward's shouts for help, and the scratch of my quill as I practised my lettering. The warm blood slithered over my arms and stomach as the cold water of Nanny's bath attacked me.

The only reality I could truly identify was the pain. Throughout everything, it was always there. I wanted to die...anything to rid myself of that pain...

In my next window of sanity, I found myself lain on a table, my top half naked, gasping in breaths which never reached my lungs. I saw the blurred figure of a woman in front of me.

"I will have to take it out, Noble," she sounded foreign. "Are you sure she can handle it?"

"Do it," I heard Edward say. I felt him take my hand. Something was pushed between my teeth, like a horse's bit.

Fingers pressed against my broken rib cage, and then I felt the cold metal...

I cried out in fear. My nails dug into Edward's hand.

"You are going to be fine, Isabella," he said softly to me.

I thought I may break his fingers as the metal thing pushed further into my side. Just kill me...kill me, I do not want this pain! But I could not seem to die.

"I have found it," the lady said calmly, then pulled the thing back out.

I let out a scream as new blood and pain flooded the wound.

"What now?" Asked Edward, still allowing me to grip his hand.

"Life or Death. All we may do is pray," she answered. The bit was removed from my mouth. "I to my God and you to yours."

*T*L*

Again, only glimpses came to me between my dreams. The warmth of Edward's hand...the sound of his voice...his presence...it seemed to be the only thing which tied me here now. I felt myself upon a crossroad, and it was only he who made me care about which way I took. His mystery was enough to keep me from the invisible pull of death. It felt like the pull which one has when one wishes to go to sleep...the guarantee of peace and rest. I felt as though I had been awake a thousand years and death looked so beautiful...

But those glimpses of Lord Edward were enough to keep me from it. However much I wanted peace...I wanted him more.

So time and pain wore on and on.

*T*L*

Light. Light burned into my eyes. I moaned. My darkness had become less stormy, more settled. Now it was being ruined by this flame...flame...a flame...from a candle...

Gradually, so gradually, my mind began to resurface. Thought returned to me. I tried to open my eyes. It was hard, as though my eyelids were made of lead. But I had to see now...

Eventually, they opened.

I saw the threads of a pillow, and the white sheet under it. What...what had happened? Where was I?

I looked further afield. A threadbare rug on the dusty floor. Wooden walls.

"My lady!" Came a whisper.

Someone's legs blocked my view. I blinked, managing to move my focus up to the person.

"Sebastian?" I whispered. My voice felt cracked and weak.

Sebastian knelt down in front of me and whispered a prayer, "Lord, I thank you." Then he opened his eyes and looked at me, "It is so good to see you awake again."

"Again?" I said.

He nodded, "You have many a time, crying and shouting out nonsense. A high fever, apparently. But you stopped yesterday and went totally silent. We could hardly feel a heartbeat. Madame Corban said you were leaving us. Lord Edward stormed out when she said." The boy smiled, "But it's okay because you're awake now."

"What day is it?" I asked. My mind was slowly filling in the dark areas. I remembered going to the theatre for a reason, and finding Master Jacob had followed me, and going to save Lord Edward. That had been at night...but it was night now. What did that mean?

"It is Wednesday night, my Lady. You were shot on Monday."

Shot...I'd been shot! Now I remembered...I ran in front of Edward...because the Sheriff was going to kill him whilst he was in a fight...

I moved to push back the covers, and immediately felt the pain. I let out a moan. "Good God..."

"My Lady, you probably shouldn't be moving..." Sebastian said hesitantly.

"Turn away for a moment," I said.

With a frown, he did so.

I pulled up the side of the night gown I'd been dressed in. Around my ribs, just beneath my breasts, was bound with bandages. Cautiously, I lifted them up. Under my right breast was a large, bloodied hole. "Oh Lord," I whispered, just before I vomited in the basin at my bedside.

"You should not be doing that, child," came a voice from the doorway. I looked over. Despite never meeting her before, I recognized the woman. She was dressed in colourful cloths, shimmering with little stones. Her head was adorned with a strange band, a single stone handing down to the middle of her brow. She was tall, and well-muscled, which was odd for a woman. Her skin was browned, and her dark hair thick and frizzy.

She, I realized, was the one who had taken the bullet from my wound. In the other glimpses I remembered, she had tended to me...

"Sebastian," she said. "Go and tell your master that I was mistaken in my diagnosis."

The boy stood up from the floor with a grin, "Yes, madam." And hurried out the door.

"Thank you," I said, pulling my night gown back down. "For your help."

She nodded, "You are welcome." In her hands she held a tray, and now she put it on the floor by my bed. "How do you feel?"

"In pain," I said. With every breath, there was a sharp stab in my ribs.

She nodded, propping me up with pillows so that I was sitting, "I believe the bullet grazed your lung, Miss Isabella. That would explain the blood you have been coughing up. You are very lucky to have survived so far."

"So far?" I repeated.

She sat herself on a stool and looked at me honestly, "There are many things still to go wrong. You still seem a little feverish, and I do not know how clean that bullet was."

I gulped, "You mean I could be infected?"

"Yes, child," she picked up the tray, "Which is why we must build your strength up."

I looked at it hesitantly, "I do not feel like – "

"But you must," she cut in, "Your body has seen neither food nor drink for two full days. It is very weak." She sat down on a stool and took the tray upon her lap.

"Are you a physician?" I asked as she fed me a spoonful of spiced broth. I felt like a child, but then I knew that my hands would not have the strength to hold even a feather.

She laughed, "Oh no, child. I am far above those dogs."

The hot broth slid down my throat, and I realized just how hungry I really was. "Where are you from?"

She shrugged, "Places. Many places."

"A gypsy?" I said.

The woman gazed at me a moment with her dark eyes, "Do you judge me for it?"

"No," I said immediately, though she was clearly, then, an outlaw, for the Queen had banished all gypsies from England many years ago. They were meant to be wild and dangerous. Not that this woman seemed like that... "Do you know what happened?" I asked, "After I was shot?"

The gypsy sighed and held a cup of wine to my lips. "The Noble's Men arrived soon after you fell, apparently."

"The Noble's Men?" I repeated, some more of my memory returning to me, "They fight for Ed – "

"For the Noble," she said swiftly, then gave me a sharp look, "Never say that name. It puts us all in danger."

"Noble?" I said. "Is that not rather obvious, though, if he is trying to disguise his identity?"

She shook her head, "The Noble Killer is his full title. But for those of us who know him, we can understand it three ways; he who kills nobles – that is what most people see him as; – He who isa noble himself; and then..."

"Then what?" I asked.

She gazed at me, "He who is a noble person. A noble killer."

"There is no such thing," I muttered.

The woman smiled at me, "He did say you were not informed."

"Then inform me!" I exclaimed.

She shook her head and stood. "The Noble will tell you in his own time. What he does is so very personal. He does not tell people lightly."

"Why not?" I whispered, "If it makes him a reputable man. If it makes him good?"

The gypsy helped me lower back down until I was lying again. "Sometimes, what makes you good makes you vulnerable. The Noble has weaknesses like any other man."

"Weaknesses?" I repeated, eager for more information.

But she simply raised her eyebrow and pulled the covers up. "Sleep, child," she said, "And worry not of such things. Now you must heal."

"Are the men alright?" I asked finally, "Those who fought?"

The woman nodded, "There were only two casualties, and a few more wounded."

I shut my eyes, "It was my fault..."

"Just sleep, child."

*T*L*

"How is she?"

Edward? I thought through the last moments of a dream.

"She is weak, but her mind is strong." Madame Corban...

"Will she live?"

"If the wound is kept from infection, she should."

"Thank the Lord." There was a creak of floorboards, and then I felt him kneel at my side. I felt lips brush my forehead, "Thank the Lord."

"She will wake soon, if you wish to speak with her."

"No, let her rest. I have business. Can she stay here until she is healed?"

"Of course. But what of her family?"

"I have told her place of residence. She has leave for as long as you deem fit."

"She has much to recover from, Noble."

"Care for her."

"You know I will."

A door shut, and finally I opened my eyes. He does not wish to speak with me...what could that mean but that he was angry?

Too tired to think of it, I took a painful breath and slipped back into a deep sleep.

*T*L*

Days passed. Sebastian took it upon himself to entertain me whilst I wasn't sleeping, and I was very grateful. The lad had a wicked sense of humour and was an excellent storyteller. His father's job was to be a watchman, however he was apparently literate, and wrote controversial pamphlets about parliament and the queen. Sebastian seemed to be following in his father's footsteps – he was a messenger, but spent much time collecting and spreading rumours about court.

Consequently, he had many tales of deception and excitement.

"One time," he told me as I sat up in bed on Friday. "The Queen had been having really bad toothache, and all the court was getting so sick of her always going on about it, but she wouldn't have it taken out because she was afraid it would hurt."

"That it would hurt?" I said, smiling, "Perhaps she should try getting shot..."

We both grinned. It didn't occur to me that I was speaking a kind of treason, but then Sebastian made the Queen sound like any other woman.

"Anyway," he said, "Eventually the Archbishop had to get his own one pulled out to prove to her that it was safe."

"And then she got it out?"

He shook his head, "No, it took about half his mouth before she did it."

"No!" I exclaimed, chuckling. But that, like everything else, hurt. My laughs turned to a moan, and I put my hand to my wound as the coughing started. As was routine, Sebastian handed me a handkerchief and helped me to lie back down. "Oh dear," I muttered. "You're getting far too good at this nursing job, Sebastian. Do you not have other things you'd rather be doing?"

"I don't think the Noble would be very happy if I betrayed his orders to care for you," he said. "Besides, this is good fun."

"Does he always order everyone around?" I asked.

Sebastian grinned, "Of course. It's what he's good at."

I turned my head to look at him, "Why does everyone listen to him, though?"

He gave me an odd look, "Because..." he blinked and looked away, "I was told not to say anything."

"Oh please!" I said childishly, pushing myself up onto my elbows. The movement was too much, and I began coughing again.

Sighing, Sebastian grabbed the handkerchief again. "I suppose I could show you one thing without getting in trouble. After all, it's not that bad..."

"Thank – you!" I said between coughs, then looked at him, "What is it?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I think you'll have to be able to get out of bed first."

It became my goal, then, to try and build the strength to stand.

Madame Corban and Sebastian would both help me out of bed, putting my arms over their shoulders. I found that, with their support, I could walk across the room and back before collapsing. My legs felt so weak. As if they were as thin as twigs.

Madame Corban continued to fill me with broth, telling me I'd lost far too much weight. I began to learn much about her character. She was intelligent, very intelligent, it seemed, for she sat with me sometimes with a book of some sort and performed difficult equations, working out how much of one herb to drop into her various bottles. I learnt that she ran a herbal medicine shop downstairs. No wonder it was in Southwark, for it was an illegal thing indeed for her to be a gypsy and selling 'occult' potions. But I trusted her with my life, which, apparently, was very delicate.

That was another of her attributes; she was always honest. She never slighted the truth of how likely my death was. She told me of how my 'immune' system was weak, and how I was susceptible to many diseases at the moment. But with her honesty, there was also hope. She told me when I was improving, and when I was worsening. It seemed, for the most part, that I was the former rather than the latter.

But whilst I got to know Madame Corban and Sebastian, Edward never returned to the house.

When I woke in the night, unable to take more than a couple of hours of sleep now without waking in pain, I thought of him. I wondered where he was...and I wondered what he thought of me.

And so when Sebastian knocked on the door on Saturday afternoon and told me I had a visitor, my hopes soared.

But it was not Lord Edward who entered the room, but Lord Carlisle.

I gasped and tried to get up.

With a raise of a hand, he stopped me, "Please, Miss Swan."

Within the sanctuary of this room, I had almost forgotten about what Lord Carlisle had said the night I had been shot. And now he was just as intimidating. He stood there in his Sunday best; a deep green jerkin with emeralds set into the fabric, then a sleeveless fur lined robe, black breeches and a black beret. He looked like fortune himself.

"My Lord," I whispered, bowing my head as best I could. "Forgive me, I cannot..."

He nodded, "I know," He looked at me, noting, I'm sure, my pallid face and dry lips and shadowed eyes. He frowned and sat down by my bedside, "How are you?"

"I am well, thank you." I was aware of just how much danger I was in – he had warned me that if I exposed Edward in any way then he would ruin my life...

...and that was exactly what I had done.

He raised his eyebrow, "Miss Swan, you need not use pleasantries with me."

I said nothing, feeling helpless.

Unexpectedly, Lord Carlisle reached out and took my pale hand. My heart jolted with the contact.

"Isabella," he said quietly, gently squeezing my fingers, "I came to apologize."

"There is no need – "

"There is," he said, looking me honestly in the eye, "I threatened you and then you went out and almost killed yourself trying to save Edward."

"It was my fault in the first place," I said.

Lord Carlisle sighed, taking his hand away, "I believe that nothing should ever be paid back for by death, Miss Swan. No crime, no mistake, no discrepancy should be returned with death."

If I had not been so intimidated, I would have laughed, "My lord...how can you believe that when Edward..." I glanced at him.

He shook his head, "Because I also know that each person has a set of different beliefs. That is not the point, Miss Swan," he gave me a long gaze; "You sacrificed yourself for him because of a mistake you made. That was unnecessary."

Feeling bolder than I should have, I told him, "You would not be saying such things if he had died."

His eye twinkled, "Perhaps not...but I would like to think that I would understand, even in my mourning. But Isabella, what I mean is that you went above what anyone could have asked of you...and you are now in this situation," he gestured to my pathetic form, "Because of that."

I eyed him nervously.

"And so," he said, leaning forward, "I am in your debt, Miss Swan."

I froze. "My Lord, your kindness in taking me into your home is payment enough..."

"No," he said firmly, "That was in payment to your mother. This is to you. I will give you anything in my power."

"I..." One of the most powerful men in the country, if not the most powerful, was giving me his promise. I was not worthy...and I did not know how on earth I would use such a debt...

Except for one thing, I realized. I looked at Lord Carlisle, he who held answers to questions which had been plaguing me since my very birth.

"My mother," I whispered.

Lord Carlisle shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I feared you would say that."

"Please, my Lord," I said quietly, my hands clutching the white sheets. "You are the only person apart from my father who knows anything about her."

He studied me, as if searching for something, "I will tell you some, Isabella. But there are certain things about Elizabeth which I don't believe you are ready to hear yet."

"Elizabeth?" I breathed, "That was her name?"

Lord Carlisle frowned, "Your father really didn't tell you anything?"

I bit my lip, then quickly released it, remembering his instruction when I'd first arrived at his house. "Only that she had brown eyes."

His lordship gave an involuntary smile, "She did indeed. Your mother was very beautiful."

Some part of me glowed, feeling happy. There had not been much beauty in my life, physical or otherwise. "What did she look like?" I asked.

"She was very slight," he said, "Much like you. But taller. Long brown hair, a serious face, and very pale."

"What was her job?" I asked, "How did she meet my father?"

"She was a scullery maid," he said, glancing down, "But she had difficulty finding work in London. I do not know how she found your father." He grimaced, "I only know that she left London alone without a travel license and without any clue of where she was going."

"That's dangerous," I murmured. Travelling without a license was illegal...and travelling alone as a woman. That was suicide. "Why did she leave?"

Lord Carlisle stared out the dusty window, "She met great misfortune in London. She was escaping it."

"Escaping it so she could conceive with a bastard," I said coldly, staring at the threads of my pillow.

His lordship looked away distastefully, "I confess, Isabella, that I was not wholly content with the match, either."

"What was a scullery maid to you?" I said quietly. Remembering my place, I added, "My Lord?"

"A woman who was lost and sick," he told me softly. With a sigh, he stood up. "I must be going, Miss Swan. There is much to do."

"Is my absence a burden?" I asked, trying to sit myself up.

"No, Miss Swan," he said. "Alice has asked, but I have told them all that you had to return to your old home on some unfinished business."

I nodded, but then realized a larger problem, "What of Master Black?"

Lord Carlisle pulled on his cloak, "Edward informed me of his presence during the incident."

"It was not his fault," I said, "He was rightfully wondering where I was going."

His lordship nodded, "I told him what I told my family. He does not believe it, of course, but neither does he think I know anything about it. He is searching for the Noble."

"And is he safe?" I prayed that the desperation did not show in my voice.

"Yes," said Lord Carlisle. "I will instruct you on what to say to Master Black upon your return. We shall think of some story."

As so often happened now, a wave of tiredness hit me, and I slipped back down into my bed, "I am sorry," I said. "To have brought so much trouble into your house, my Lord."

From the door, he raised his head to look at me, "Just focus on your recovery, Isabella."

*T*L*

That night, when I woke, I thought I heard the door closing. Chasing back through the remains of my dream, I remembered the lightest touch of lips upon my forehead.

With a sigh, I braved the pain and reached for the tankard of mead upon my bedside table.

Nursing it in my hands, I began to think. My mother was a scullery maid. The lowest job in a household...but at least it was a job. But then, if what his lordship had said was true, she hadn't found any households to work in anyway. My mother had been impoverished...but how had she gotten to marry my father? He would not have married her simply for the joy of it. Lord Carlisle, as he had warned, had clearly not told me the whole truth.

Gypsies were considered very bad people in the Elizabethan Era. Their persecution has lasted right through history.

In the Renaissance, they were hung, branded, shaved and tortured simply for existing.

A peaceful chapter for once :D

Please send me a review!

I'll get onto Chapter Seven and hopefully (hopefully) have it within the week!