Chapter Nine.
Three weeks later.
Nothing had happened.
In three whole weeks, nothing had changed.
There was no movement, no response, no retaliation.
Just silence.
We all knew that she was still in there, just waiting.
Waiting for something. And that was what unnerved us the most.
The camp had become normal around me now. Its movement and patterns familiar to me.
But, the Duchess's palace had not.
Having never laid eyes on it before, I was not quite sure of what exactly to expect. I just always assumed that it would be similar to Christopher's palace, as they shared the same rank.
However, we couldn't get close enough to see it properly, thanks to the rather large and annoying wall that stood between us and the Palace. The wall that was constantly manned by guards.
They occasionally fired arrows at us, but nothing too serious. They were trapped after all, so they needed to conserve their supply.
My days had fallen into a busy routine. And I actually found a tremendous amount of satisfaction with my work. I knew it was helping, in some very small way.
I split my time between the kitchens and the physicians tent. No one was actually injured, so there wasn't much to do. But he did constantly need help organising his supplies, cutting and rolling bandages, and making small potions for headaches and such things. It was mid-way through October, and everyone seemed to have developed some sort of cold or cough. We ran through our supply of ginger very quickly.
Mr Johnson was a very quiet, but pleasant man. He had a neat moustache and trimmed black beard, that was always immaculate, no matter that we were in a war camp. He worked methodically, and liked to have all his herbs and ingredients lined up in a specific order. Over the weeks, I slowly became accustomed to his way of doing things, and I really grew to admire him. The amount of knowledge he used constantly was astounding. How he remembered any of it, I didn't know.
But, when there was nothing else to do, he started to teach me a little.
I never thought my sewing skills as a seamstress would ever come in handy in a war camp, but it turns out they did.
When someone came in with a large cut or gash, Mr Johnson would give them stitches, to keep the skin together. It was not a pleasant task, but not a difficult one. Especially to someone who had been using a needle for a good long while. After the first few men cut themselves while training, Mr Johnson started to insist that I 'patch them up'. He claimed that it would be very useful if I could do that, as in the aftermath of a battle, he would be swamped with work, and have no time for such menial tasks, however crucial. Having me there to help would be very welcomed, to see to those who didn't require his immediate attention.
So, I spent my days practicing, when I was not busy rolling bandages.
Scarlett joined me for the easy tasks; making the beds and organising the linens. But she claimed she didn't have the stomach to look at wounds. Even speaking about it made her a little pale.
She much preferred being in the kitchens, chopping vegetables and stirring stew. However, she didn't always have a lot of time to do that, as she kept being summoned to the main tent to help with another detail about the Palace. They kept coming up with one plan after another, and each required a different piece of the palace to be known in detail.
We'd had several letters from home. They were all begging for news about the war camp. Richard was desperate to know what it was like. Life in Rault went on as it ever did. Gwen's birthday was in a week, and we had apologised that we probably wouldn't be back in time to celebrate. She was turning ten. I couldn't quite believe my baby sister was going to be so big! We had sent Clara some money so she could buy Gwen a cake from the local bakery and a few little trinkets.
Alexander and Daniel began training with some of the soldiers. They spent their days learning how to hold a sword correctly, and stand with the right posture. They also spent time with Philip and Antony, concocting plans and schemes. I didn't know exactly how much help my brothers were, but I think they liked being there and watching how the tactics were formed. I had no desire to see any of that side of the camp. I was quite happy just doing what I could to help, and not getting involved with making important decisions that I knew might weigh heavily on them in the future.
Daniel in particular was a natural at sword play. He seemed to get the knack for how to move himself so that the sword almost became an extension of his arm. Although he had only been learning for a few weeks, he could almost stand his own against some of the other boy soldiers in the training ring. They used wooden swords, of course. My brother just seemed to be naturally coordinated. It was the same with dancing, he just picked it up very quickly with very little effort. I knew Alexander was a little jealous, but he had other things on his mind, so it came to nothing.
However, the person who had changed the most was Bianca.
I hardly knew what to do anymore. I hardly knew how to act. She was ridiculously on edge all the time. Any tiny little thing made her lash out at someone.
I knew it wasn't fair to blame her, especially after the way I had behaved in the past year. But it was started to weigh on us all a little.
I knew having to face besieging your home and waiting for the person who murdered your father and your people to surrender was nerve wracking, but no matter what we tried, Bianca didn't ever seem to calm down. She was irritable and short with people, and had shouted at me and Scarlett on several occasions. We didn't take it to heart; it was better she shouted at us and not at the soldiers who were fighting for her cause. We all knew that she didn't mean it, and that she was just acting out from fear and stress. But we were all at the end of our rope, and unsure of what to do.
Several times, I had found Bianca curled up in her cot, legs pulled up to her chest as she tried to breathe. There were some nights I slept in her cot with her, just because she didn't want to be alone. And there were some evenings that she almost fell into my tent from either exhaustion or stress, and I could say nothing but place a goblet of wine in front of her, that she took with a surprising amount of gratitude.
After several weeks of this, I found I hated Nerissa more and more. She was the one doing this to Bianca, to all of us. It would all be over so quickly if she simply surrendered and gave Bianca back her home and title. But instead, she was dragging out this torture of waiting.
She had done nothing in the last few weeks. Several of the servants had run away the moment we declared the palace under siege. Most of them just wanted to go home to their families, so we let them. We knew that there were only a few loyal servants and a very small handful of highborns inside, as well as a small regiment of guards.
With the sheer number of men we had, we could storm the palace and take it back. However, the order from the King and Queen was to try and take Nerissa alive, so she could stand for trial for her crimes. And the guards and other highborns were innocents. Bloodshed was to be avoided at all costs. We had them surrounded, and it would only be a matter of time before she had to surrender.
But, one good thing had come out of all of the free time we had.
I had managed to track down Christopher's tent a few days after we arrived. And I had apologised to him.
He had not deserved the things I had said to him. He had been right all along, that it had been easy to blame Ella for what happened to James. I had lashed out in anger and grief, and done more harm than good. And I had upset him too.
Christopher had been through so much. He had lost his father and his closest friend only hours apart. And not only that, but he'd had to assume the role of a Duke, with all the responsibilities and duties that came with. But he had fought through it, and hadn't let it break him.
I had practiced the words over and over in my head, trying to think of any way to atone for the horrid way I had treated him. And also for Bianca's treatment of him.
Christopher, being the generous soul that he was, told me there was nothing to forgive, and that he had deserved everything I had told him. He didn't want there to be any ill will between us. However, there was one issue that I still didn't want to budge on.
Ella.
No matter how much of Christopher's word rang true, that I had idolised her and that my anger at her was because she had broken that image, I still couldn't find it in my heart to forgive her. Not quite yet.
My anger had certainly abated a little, but after all this time, I still couldn't let go of the fact that I knew it all could have been so easily avoided.
That he still could have been here, with me. With us.
As soon as James was mentioned, we couldn't seem to stop talking about him. Christopher told me all sorts of stories from when they were younger; the adventures they used to get up to in Ashburne, the times James used to stay at the palace to avoid his father, the strange jokes that they're group always had with each other.
We ended up talking well into the evening that night. And the strangest part was, that it wasn't upsetting.
We talked of our memories of him with joy and nostalgia, not with despair and grief. I actually found myself laughing at several of the stories about him, because I could almost picture a sixteen-year old James climbing out of a window to go and write rude words on the tutor's slate. And I could also see Antony joining him, while Philip and Christopher stood in the doorway, telling them to hurry up. And then the next morning watching them all bite their cheeks when the tutor started raging to stop laughing.
I wasn't sure what it was, but talking about James with someone who really knew him seemed to…lift me. To know that it wasn't just me having to cope alone, and to know that someone else knew him as closely as I did.
We had talked late into the evening without realising it. It was only when the guard outside Christopher's tent poked his head through the flap to inform us that his shift was over, did we realise it must be almost midnight. Christopher had walked me back to my tent, and left me at the door.
'I hope we can find more time to do this Marion.' He had said.
I shrugged.
'If time allows. I'm due at Mr Johnson's tent first thing in the morning.'
'And I'm planning with Philip, Antony and Bianca all tomorrow. It doesn't have to be tomorrow, but at some point soon. Even if it's when this is all over.'
Christopher sighed.
'You were his wife. And I know you miss him as much as I do. This…talking about him…it makes everything easier.' He admitted.
I could only nod.
'Yes. It does rather.' I told him. And I meant it.
So, the weeks had gone by, and we had all slowly become accustomed to our new life.
Hopefully temporary life. As much as I didn't mind putting up with living in a tent for a few weeks, I hoped it wouldn't be too much longer. The nights were already cold enough as it was, and winter wasn't even here yet. I knew I had no right to complain, but I didn't really enjoy always being cold. Solid walls were something I now knew I was never going to take for granted again.
After all this time just waiting, I knew the men were impatient for action. For something to do that wasn't just training, or drills. There was almost an atmosphere of anticipation, and also of frustration. They wanted Philip and Bianca to do something. They were all cold, living in a camp, with nothing to do. But so far, they hadn't found a way past the walls that wouldn't defy the King and Queen's order.
I could sense it as I wandered through the camp, a bucket of clean water held tightly in my hand. I was on my way to Mr Johnson's tent after some idiot managed to slice his hand open when he picked up his sword the wrong way. It wasn't bad enough to require stitches, but it did need to be cleaned as he had fallen in the mud shortly afterwards.
And unfortunately, the army had not made camp close to a source of water. The nearest one was either in the village, which was twenty minute's walk, or to the stream that fed the moat which was ten. I didn't mind the exercise, despite the cold weather, but it was getting a little annoying; considering how much water we went through. Most of my day was spent fetching and carrying water.
The chores were a little boring, and frustrating; as was our current life. Some of the other soldiers felt it too. But at least they had managed to warm up to us a little. They had slowly gotten used to seeing us around the camp, and I had a feeling Alexander had made it painfully clear that we were not to be messed with.
The familiar sight of Mr Johnson's tent approached, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The weight was starting to hurt my shoulders. One foot in front of the other, ignoring the mud that clung to my boots.
However, the sound of voices on the other side made me stop instantly.
'How long?'
'Hard to say exactly…about six months, give or take a few weeks.' Replied a male voice
'And is there anything I can do? To relieve the…the sickness?'
'Unfortunately no. But it will pass, in time.'
I knew both of those voice very well, and it made my heart stop.
The male one was the quiet and calm tone of Mr Johnson.
However, the other voice was female.
And I had heard it enough times in the past few months to recognise it anywhere.
And my suspicions were only confirmed when I pulled back the tent flap and walked in.
Scarlett sat on a chair opposite Mr Johnson, her eyes going wide from shock the moment she beheld me.
'Marion!' She cried, jumping to her feet.
I placed the water down carefully.
'What are you doing here Scarlett?' I asked, looking between the two of them.
'Nothing. I was…I was just…wondering if I could help here more?' Scarlett said in a high tone.
Her voice always rose a few tones when she lied.
'But you can't stand it here.' I told her, with a tone that implied that she wasn't going to get away with lying to my face. 'You get nauseous.'
Scarlett frantically looked around, clearly trying to think of something to say.
I simply waited. And Mr Johnson did what he was very good at doing, and disappeared to look over his medical bag.
'Oh, goodness. I completely forgot, I'm due at the kitchen. I left Mary in charge of the stew, and it will be all ruined!' Scarlett cried, trying to squeeze past me.
I raised my eyebrow, but didn't stop her getting past. There was clearly something up with her that she didn't want to tell me. I had half a mind to stand and make her, especially if what I had heard about her only having a matter of months left. But until what?
She didn't seem sick. She'd hardly had a headache since the moment she arrived in Rault.
But before I could ask her any more, she ran past me, and out of the tent.
Leaving me stunned.
What on earth had gotten into Scarlett?
Slowly, I turned back to Mr Johnson.
'Is she alright?' I asked.
'Yes, of course.' He told me, finding something very interesting at the bottom of his bag.
I didn't believe that for a moment.
But Mr Johnson continued to ignore me and picked up the bucket of water I had brought. It needed to be boiled to clean it first, before it could be used for anything. He claimed that the heat killed any potential infection. He had brought a very clever contraption that collected the steam from the boiling water and condensed it back into clean water. I hadn't seen anything so marvellous since I had been living in Milton with Isabelle. I knew she would love to see it.
I helped him lift the bucket of water and pour it into the waiting pot.
'I heard things, from outside.' I admitted.
'You shouldn't be eavesdropping, it's not polite.' Mr Johnson told me, with a small grin.
'I couldn't help it. Her voice carries.' I told him.
'Scarlett is fine. Everything is as it should be.'
'Then what was that about only having six months? What's going to happen? Is she sick?' I insisted.
Mr Johnson sighed, but with a knowing smile on his face.
'She will tell you when she's ready. But I suspect there is someone else she need to talk to first. You will find out in good time. All you need to know is that everything is as it should be.'
At that, the pieces finally fell into place.
And I froze.
Everything made sense.
Scarlett needed to talk to Alexander before me.
Because there was a reason she felt nauseous. And I suspected that it wasn't just around Mr Johnson's tent. But particularly in the morning. She'd been pale for weeks.
How had I not seen it before?
Scarlett had lost her appetite, had felt sick whenever I tried to drag her to help at Mr Johnson's in the morning.
And of course, she had been married for nearly five months.
Which usually led to…
If my suspicions were correct, Scarlett was going to change quite a lot over the next six months.
Not because she was ill.
Not because she was dying.
But because she was actually creating life.
Scarlett was pregnant.
The words clattered around my head.
She was going to have a baby.
My brother's wife was pregnant.
She had all the signs, I had just been too blind to see them.
In six month's time, there would be another little Brown.
Because apparently there weren't enough of us already.
I hardly knew what to think.
What to feel!
Scarlett was pregnant!
Alexander and Scarlett were going to have a baby.
If she still had six months to go, then she wasn't very far along. She wouldn't be showing for another month or so.
My mother had been pregnant enough times, so I certainly knew a lot about what was in store for her.
'Marion?'
I snapped out of my thoughts.
Mr Johnson was stood in front of me, his finger snapped as he tried to make me awaken.
'Yes. Sorry. I just…I think…Scar…' I stumbled for words.
Mr Johnson raised his eyebrow at me in question.
'Well, whatever you think about Scarlett, its best kept to yourself. I shouldn't have said anything. It's up to her when she tells everyone, although I suspect you've guessed. And I imagine she will want to tell her husband first.'
I found myself needing to sit down. It still felt odd to hear Alexander referred to as Scarlett's husband.
Alexander was going to be a father!
Alexander, my little brother! He was going to have a baby to look after.
I didn't for a second think he wasn't ready for it. No, Alexander had been ready for becoming a father for years. He had always looked after all of us, being more of a father to Gwen and Robbie than brother. He had always had a paternal instinct, taking it upon himself to provide for us, even if his methods were not the greatest. The poaching incident came to mind.
They were going to be a family.
And that meant that I was going to be an Aunt.
My heart almost stopped.
Another little Brown…
'Marion? I know that it's a shock, but we have work to do. So could you come back to reality long enough so we can dress this idiot's hand?' Mr Johnson asked.
My mind was still spinning, but I nodded.
This was not an issue for the moment. Scarlett hadn't even told me yet, so she didn't want me to know yet. I could think about all of this when they wanted me to know. But at the present time, I was still in a war camp, and there was much to be done.
War, winning back Bianca's title and home. Not dying. These were things to worry about right now.
That could wait.
But life could not.
I had things to do.
To do what small part I could.
War first, life after.
That was how it was.
'Alright. I'll get the bandages.' I told Mr Johnson.
And then I set to work.
That night, I was awoken by a piercing cry.
It ripped through the night like nothing I'd ever known.
Half leaping out of my cot, terror filled my every sense.
Were we being attacked?
The cry was masculine.
Had Nerissa attacked us?
Hand shaking, and my head still fuzzy from sleep, I jumped out of bed. Daniel was there too, beside me, crying out in shock.
Loud footsteps sounded outside the tent, and it was clear that people were running.
Terror consumed me.
I had no weapon, save a small knife that I kept in my boots, which were on the other side of the tent.
I flew across the tent to grab them, while Daniel's hands clasped around his new sword.
'What's going on?' I cried.
Daniel's answering shrug was all the answer I was going to get.
He viciously took his jacket and pulled it on over his night things.
No answers. Nothing.
What on earth was going on?
I was scared, more than I thought possible.
If were being attacked, this could be it. A battle. People dying. My brother's being in danger.
And my sisters too.
There were more footsteps, approaching us.
Panic consumed me.
Were they here for us? To kill us?
What was I supposed to do?
I wanted to run. I wanted to run and not look back.
I was not brave, not courageous. I just wanted to run.
'Daniel? What do-' I shouted, but I was too slow and the flap of the tent was thrown back.
Alexander stood panting in the doorway of the tent. His cheeks were red, and he appeared to be shaking.
'Alexander?' Daniel asked.
'Scar?' Alexander cried, his eyes wide with fear as he frantically searched our tent from the doorway.
'What?' I asked, pulling a cloak around my shoulders.
'Scar? Is she here? Scar!' Alexander shouted, striding around, pulling the cloth back from our beds.
'No. Why, where is Scarlett?' I asked, my own voice sounding foreign to me.
'Scarlett?' Came another voice from behind Alexander. Bianca was running at full speed down the path, her own cloak flying in the wind revealing the fact that she was already dressed.
'What is going on?' Daniel cried, but Alexander wouldn't stop.
My head snapped from Bianca to Alexander and back to Bianca.
What on earth had happened to Scarlett?
What was going on?
'Alexander.' I cried, pulling at his shoulder, but he brushed it away.
'Alexander, stop!' I cried.
Yanking him around until he was facing me, I made Alexander stop and face me.
His eyes were wide, and I could already see the beginning of silver mist lining those familiar eyes. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and everything about him betrayed the immense amount of terror he was clearly feeling.
'What's happened?' I demanded.
'Scar's gone. She's just vanished!' Alexander managed to get out between pants.
Bianca came flying through the tent door at that moment.
'Is she here?' She shouted.
I couldn't form words. I didn't know what to think.
Scarlett was gone?
And by the way Alexander and Bianca were acting, it didn't sound like she had simply left of her own accord.
'No. What happened?' Daniel asked; he was as clueless as I was.
Bianca had to take several large gulps of air, while Alexander crossed his arms in front of himself, as if he were trying to stop his chest from caving in.
'She said she needed to...go to the toilet. You know she hasn't been feeling very well lately.' Alexander explained.
I instinctively bit my lip.
If what I thought was correct, there was a very good reason for that.
'She told me to go back to sleep. I..I only closed my eyes for a minute, I swear!' Alexander cried.
Behind him, there were soldiers running and the noise began to build.
'The alarm sounded. The guard's been knocked unconscious. The man who discovered him came to find me.' Bianca said, her voice tone unfamiliar. I knew she was trying so hard to keep a strain on her emotions.
'But Scarlett's gone.' She admitted.
At those words, the first sob broke free from Alexander's lips.
It was a horrid sound. One I never hoped I would have to hear from my brother. And one I hoped to never have to hear again. For I had once uttered that sound of despair, in the darkest moment of my life.
'Nerissa took her. I know it.' Alexander cried, tears rolling down his face.
Without thinking, I moved, and pulled my arms around my brother.
His warm tears fell onto my shoulder as he lost all control and sobbed. His shoulder shook as he clung to me tightly.
Behind me, I heard movement that sounded rather like someone storming out. I didn't need to look as Daniel shouted.
'Bianca wait!'
'I'm going to find her. I am going to get my sister back!' She screamed back at him. It was painfully clear that she wanted to sob like Alexander was, but I knew that at the moment, she was more angry than upset.
I didn't know what to do.
Scarlett had been taken.
Who knows what had happened to her. Had Nerissa simply taken her prisoner?
Or worse….
I was not going to imagine it. Nerissa couldn't…could she?
Scarlett was her stepdaughter.
She would…kill her.
And then another horrible thought clattered through my head.
Scarlett was pregnant.
It wasn't just Scarlett that they had captured. But also her unborn baby. Alexander's child.
Oh no.
Oh, heaven above, no.
If anything happened to her, she could lose it. Nerissa might cause her to lose her child. She was still early on, so the risk was higher.
No!
And what of Alexander? Did he know? Had she had chance today to tell him?
My throat went dry.
Terror, not for myself, but for my sister in law, filled me.
What on earth were we going to do?
Alexander still clung to me, moaning Scarlett's name in despair.
The idea to ask him if he knew Scarlett's news briefly flitted across my mind. But I quickly threw it away. He was already suffering enough. He didn't need anything else to worry about, if he didn't already know. His finding out that there was another life to worry about in this situation was not going to help anyone.
The noise of the soldiers behind us was now getting too loud to ignore, as I sensed someone else entering the tent. Shifting Alexander around so I could crane my neck behind me, I saw Christopher stood in his nightclothes, his face shocked and confused.
'Scarlett's been taken by Nerissa.' I told him, my own voice breaking.
And then it finally hit me.
Scarlett was in grave danger. Nerissa had already tried to kill Bianca, who's to say she wouldn't do the same to Scarlett if she was given the opportunity?
She didn't deserve this. She was good, and kind, and sweet, and her only crime was marrying for love. As if that could be called a crime.
And now, she was no doubt terrified, and alone, and in mortal danger. Her, and her baby.
I didn't know what to feel first. Anger? Rage? Despair? Terror?
All these things seemed to accumulate inside of me, my head spinning completely out of control.
We had to do something. We had to get her back.
But I just seemed frozen.
Shock? Was that what this was? I couldn't tell anymore. I didn't know anything anymore.
'No.' Christopher breathed.
'Scar…' A broken whimper fell from my brother's lips.
And my heart seemed to break.
But my head cleared.
Pulling back, I held Alexander's shoulder with one hand, and grabbed his chin making him look me in the eye, with the other.
'Alexander, look at me. Listen to me! We are going to get her back. She is going to be safe and back here with us. We are going to find her.'
Tears rolled down my own face. I wasn't sure of the cause, whether it was despair, or anger. Or just the damned frustration that Nerissa had managed to get ahead of us yet again.
'You are not going to lose her. None of us are. We promised we are all going home after this. All of us. This family is not losing anyone else.' I swore.
My brother blinked.
And I knew I was going to fight for him.
Because I had already lost my husband. I was going to go through hell before I let my brother lose his wife.
History was not going to repeat itself.
Here was a chance to change the story. A chance for someone to get the happy ending I was deprived of.
And by all the stars above, we deserved that happy ending.
So I was going to fight.
I was going to get Scarlett Brown back.
I was going to change our story.
Nerissa didn't know what was about to hit her. And she would be sorry for this, and for everything else she had done.
Because I was coming for her.
And nothing was going to stop me.
