AUDEAMUS
Chapter 10
Mrs. and Miss Stanley let out the loudest screams Bella had ever heard. More soldiers flooded the patio and lunged for the black shadow. In one corner, a soldier loaded a musket, ready to fire at it. He missed, only provoking a warm, echoing and deliciously low laugh from that shadow as he did so.
The shadow fought off the soldiers with the flash of his sword, quickly and gracefully disarming them. It came to a point where the soldiers, five untrained young men, hesitated.
Bella pressed at the edge of the stairs while Alice had managed to go to Jasper's side. The specter, or whatever it was—darted past the baffled spectators, right up the stairs where Bella stood. The young woman's chocolate brown eyes widened as the black figure neared her.
She found her senses and quickly backed away into the corridor. Alas, fate only had it that it was exactly where he was headed.
The two soldiers who had lingered on the carpeted floor of the corridor had recovered sufficiently. While one lunged at him, the other gently moved her out of harm's way.
Bella saw a flash of white teeth as the shadow grinned. He disarmed the first soldiers in one swift move, knocking him out with his elbow. The other he fought against a little longer. The swords clashed and rang through her ears as deafening drums, the scuffle a blur in her eyes. It was only after a short while that the young woman realized he was toying with the soldier. The mysterious shadow disarmed his opponent and knocked him out, promptly turning to Bella.
She felt naked under his gaze—flaming eyes grabbing hold of her and burning her alive. She could see nothing but a black silhouette, an outline of a man that filled the corridor. And while she discerned no human features, he could feel his gaze resting on her form and how it made her shiver where she stood. He started walking toward her, and in a moment of desperation, she grabbed the nearest weapon she could find: a small porcelain vase.
"You will cease your approach, or I shall do my best to harm you!" she managed to shout at him. It came out weaker than she would have liked; a slight tremble to her voice, her pitch a few tones higher than usual.
The shadow stopped; only a few meters from her. Her heart was racing; as if she had just run across the patio. He bowed, finally, mockingly, and turned around. When he disappeared behind the corner, Bella's knees buckled, and she dropped the vase with a loud crash—the final commotion of the night.
She did not know how much time had passed, only that she did not dare pick herself up. Bella understood why those soldiers had remained on the floor. Yet, this time, both had definitely been knocked out.
"Bella?" a panicked voice sounded. It was soon that her mother rounded the corner, rushing to her and kneeling by her side on the floor. Renée took her daughter's face in her hands. "Are you alright, did he harm you?" she asked. Charles, Jasper, and Alice were soon there.
She could not speak at first, nor could she stop trembling.
"N-no," she finally answered.
Alice looked at the soldiers lying unconscious on the floor. "Goodness gracious," she whispered, leaning closer to Jasper.
They all soon regained some wit. Charles Swan had remained silent the entire time, but his pale face and the profuse sweat running down his temples spoke for itself. Renée seemed to be the only one having a composure to speak of. She helped her daughter off the floor whose face was as white as a ghost's, never ceasing with the shivering and trembles. They all walked down to the patio where Genene Stanley was being fanned by her daughter. The woman had fainted at the very sight of the shadow.
"Major Collins will capture him, dearest," Mr. Stanley kept reassuring his wife as he held her hand. The sickly tint to the woman's skin told that she had little faith in that statement.
Wilson was worst off. He trembled visibly, his whole body shaking, his wig askew and his double chins moving each time he gulped for air like he was drinking it.
None of them dared leave the estate until receiving word from Collins. Hours passed and soon dawn was upon them. Bella welcomed the first rays of the sun as they passed the horizon. They pushed past the darkness and mystery of night and they brought the day, where everything was clear and made sense.
Major Collins soon arrived with some soldiers. They had chased after the unknown man as soon as he had left the estate. The major seemed furious as he entered the estate. He caught sight of the subdued faces and recollected himself.
"Major Collins, what on earth just happened!" Jessica Stanley demanded; a sentiment they all now shared. Bella sat in a chair, quiet and subdued, trying to make sense of the last few hours. Her mother had placed her brocade shawl across her shoulders, as her daughter had caught a sudden chill, no doubt from the shock of her interaction with the man.
"Yes, who was that man?" Charles asked.
"I-in my own house!" the mayor managed to say as he stood opposite the major. Something flashed in his eyes, Bella wondered just how afraid the mayor really was.
Collins let out a small puff of air through his nose, the fatigue on his face shining through the thin coating of dust he had received on his otherwise impeccable uniform.
"We did not manage to catch him," he started, soon interrupted by Genene Stanley.
"He is still out there?" she exclaimed. "Oh heavens!" Her husband fanned her as another fainting spell approached. Bella's lips pressed together.
"What did he want?" Jasper interrupted. "Did he steal something?"
Collins shook his head. "He was in Mr. Wilson's office and might not have been discovered if Mr. Wilson hadn't sent one of his footmen to fetch one of his old swords hanging on the wall. But whatever he was looking for, he did not find it. We rode to the garrison and received news that someone broke into my office there as well."
"Do you think this is the same man that saved Billy Black?" Jasper asked suddenly. A strange sheen of curiosity now shone through the subdued fear. Alice's brow furrowed, as did Collins'.
"What makes you suspect that?"
"Well," Jasper began, turning around. "I think we can all safely say he matched the description Mr. Simmons gave of him some weeks ago. After all, your soldiers would not give any information and Mr. Simmons is the only civilian who has supposedly seen him."
"It is also widely known that Mr. Simmons is known to exaggerate," Charles Swan put in.
"And what description did Mr. Simmons give of this man?" Wilson asked, stepping in.
Jasper's shoulders tensed up visibly, almost as if he was embarrassed to give away such information. "He said," he hesitated. "That the man who rescued Mr. Black from the garrison was the ghost of Edward Cullen," he answered tightlipped.
They all would have laughed in any other circumstance. Bella however, had heard Mr. Simmons very same description of the mysterious man. She had seen the excitement and fear in the old man's eyes. Furthermore, the people present in Wilson's estate had seen the shadow and knew that Mr. Simmons had been right.
"Perhaps, major, it is due time that you reveal to us what the soldiers have witnessed as well. I am decidedly certain this is the same man who rescued Mr. Black from the garrison jail. The way he handled your soldiers with such ease has settled those doubts," Mr. Stanley added.
"I am afraid I am not able to share such information with you." He received disappointed stares and Collins' shoulders sank. "What I can say about your observations, however, is that I never got a good look at him. I am very skeptic to the idea that a man who has been dead for nearly three hundred years decided to rise from the grave, when such a feat is, in all sense and purpose, impossible. I tell you, did anyone of you get a good look at him?" he asked. "Could not gossip from town have twisted your minds into believing what Mr. Simmons said?"
They all remained silent. For some of them—those who caught a glimpse—it might have been a possibility. But not for Bella. While she had not gotten a clear view of him due to her fear, she still knew, she was certain he looked like the statue in Hayes.
"I must say, I have seen the painting of General Cullen in Safeira many times, and I would dare say it was a close likeness," Jasper started. "And Miss Swan got a good look at him, did you not?" he turned to her. Bella looked up to see all faces placing their full attention on her.
"What did happen in that corridor between the two of you?" Jessica Stanley asked.
"You were alone with him?" Collins asked in surprise. A small undertone of outrage laced his voice as well.
"Two of your soldiers were there, major, but they took quite a beating." She stared at her clenched hands. "He disarmed them as if he were playing against children," she shivered. "I have never seen the like." Her face grew pale again.
Jasper looked alarmed to have been the cause of such discomfort. Collins looked worried too. "He did not harm you, did he?" Collins asked carefully.
Bella shook her head. "He disarmed the soldiers and knocked them out. He started moving toward me but then turned around," she whispered.
"Why?" Alice asked.
Bella blushed at her next words. "…I threatened him… with a vase," she said. The crimson on her cheeks did her good, however, for it brought back the color to her face. Bella could not stop blushing at her own folly. How could she ever have believed herself capable of fighting him off with a mere vase? She turned to the mayor. "I am afraid I dropped it, Mr. Wilson. Do forgive me," she managed to state.
Wilson shook his head, he himself still quite shaken and not overtly worried over some broken porcelain. "Think nothing of it, Miss Swan," he whispered as he calmed down.
"A vase?" Collins asked in disbelief; as if he could not comprehend what he was hearing. His soldiers had gone up against this man, armed to the teeth, yet it was a young woman with nothing but a porcelain vase as her weapon that managed to send him away.
"Maybe he did not go up against you because you threatened him?" Renée asked. A part of the collected woman hoped that this man, whoever he was, had left her daughter alone out of a sense of propriety and respect.
"Don't think for a second that this man left her because of any noble cause." Wilson turned to them all. "This man is dangerous and should not be romanticized," he forced, looking aggravated. "He just invaded my home for God's sake!"
"Miss Swan, any other information you may have gathered from your short time with him will serve me well. Did you recognize him in any way, his height, his build?" Collins asked as he kneeled next to her, ignoring Wilson's small outburst.
"He was just a blur of darkness. The corridor was dimly lit as well. I could not discern his face, major. I only saw a black silhouette, nothing more," she lamented. It was true, the stress had not allowed her to see more than that. Bella chastised herself, he had been a few meters from her, she should have seen at least something. "I think he wore a mask," she added faintly.
"Heaven protect us," Genene muttered from the chair as she had overheard the conversation. "A devil has claimed Hayes!"
"Genene, darling, calm yourself," her husband hushed.
Bella and Collin's eyes met briefly, and he could not mask the disappointment in them. Collins had expected that the young Miss Swan might have seen more. But a calming smile soon replaced the disappointment, he seemed set on catching the man, however.
"I think it best we get you all to your homes. It has been an eventful night, to say the least."
"Is it safe to leave the estate?" Renée wondered.
"I will escort you to town myself, with my soldiers. I am truly sorry for what has transpired here tonight," he said with an apologetic smile.
"I am not staying here either!" Wilson stammered. "Not even with a thousand soldiers protecting me. The safety of the town will do me much better," he continued as he went to instruct a footman to gather his belongings and send someone in advance to prepare his other house.
They all gathered their things and waited for their carriages to be prepared. Bella found that, as it got lighter, she got calmer, thankful for the day now fully emerging. She was constantly looking out the window of their carriage as they rode back to Hayes, making sure that Collins never left their side.
When they were back at the house, she was taken to her room by Sara. One look at Bella's haunted expression told Sara that something was wrong. Bella had no strength to speak of it and soon fell asleep on her bed, still fully dressed.
When she woke up, later that afternoon, gossip had already spread through town like wildfire. Bella suspected Jessica Stanley and her mother were the guilty parties. It was soon that several maids of the house sought her out and asked her if the information was true. Bella locked herself in her room, afraid to step outside and face another questioning maid.
Renée and Charles Swan grew worried as their daughter did not emerge until the next day. She was silent at breakfast. Faint circles under her eyes spoke of lack of sleep that night. Even chewing grew into an arduous task for her.
But, in a few days, the shock waned away, and she was back to her usual schedule. The first time she visited Alice after the incident, they had sat in Alice's parlor quietly sipping tea as the clock had ticked in the background.
"Isabella, we are good friends, are we not?" Alice asked, breaking the tense silence in the room.
"I would like to think so," Bella answered. The clock ticked more, someone walked past the closed doors of the parlor.
"Then tell me that what I saw that night was mere imagination, that my mind was playing tricks on me," Alice blurted out. It seemed also she had not been able to process the information of what had happened a few days ago.
Bella forced herself to meet the inquisitive and desperate eyes. "I am sorry, Alice." It was strange, she didn't know when they had gone to say the other's first name.
Alice leaned against the chair, the dull aura emerging from her clashing with the lighthearted draping and furniture of the picturesque room. The birdsong pushed against the closed glass-doors from the gardens and the breeze made the branches dance against the tall windows.
"Jasper has been going to Mr. Simmons every day, trying to gather more information," she whispered. "I think it is his way of processing this whole thing.
"But it was not truly Edward Cullen we saw that night, you do understand that, right Alice?" Bella refused to believe in the supernatural. What had shaken her was to have been in such close proximity to a man who had taken out nine soldiers several times without breaking as much as a sweat.
"I do not know what to believe anymore," Alice said as she put aside the cup. The tea had long since lost its warmth.
"Did I hear my name?" a drawl sounded. Both women had not noticed as the parlor doors were opened. Bella turned together with Alice and caught sight of Edward Masen.
For the first time, she realized Edward Masen shared his first name with Edward Cullen. The mere thought that the man from last night at Wilson's and the fop standing before her shared anything in common was ridiculous. She could not even begin to process that the man from that night should choose to identify himself with the name "Edward" when the only other Edward she knew was the one in front of her. No, Bella knew in her heart at that very moment that calling the man from that night "Edward" felt wrong and out of place.
"We were discussing the incident at Wilson's estate," Alice said with a frown. Mr. Masen wrinkled his nose.
"I have not been able to ignore the chatter about it for days. Tis the only thing anyone talks about," he said, sitting down in a chair close to Alice, a lace handkerchief pressed faintly against his forehead in dramatic composure as he did so.
"Be glad that you were not there, brother," Alice chastised. "I am still unable to understand what transpired that night."
"So am I," Bella whispered to herself. She might have imagined it, but the shadow of compassion washed over Edward's features.
"I could never begin to imagine the distress you must have gone through, Miss Swan." He seemed genuinely worried for her well-being. It provoked a gentle smile in Bella.
"Thank you, Mr. Masen. But he did not get to any of us. I am just glad we all got away unscathed."
"You do not think he was out to hurt you?" he asked in a worried tone. Edward Masen paled visibly as his nostrils flared from fear. The lace handkerchief, a frilly thing, came up to dot away at his face. Alice rolled her eyes.
"Worry not, brother dear, I do not think he would take interest in chasing…you. You pose a very small threat to that man."
"Now, Alice, I may seem to be an inept sort of fellow when it comes to a fight. But if I were ever to have to defend myself," he started passionately, raising a finger in the air. The tone of his voice started rising with misplaced passion. "If I were ever to defend myself," he repeated. "I would astound all," the sentence ended in the familiar drawl.
"I find that highly unlikely," Alice drawled back, mocking his voice.
A laugh escaped Bella, despite herself. A hand flew up to her mouth as her eyes widened. "Forgive me, I did not mean offense by laughing!" she said behind the hand.
"Do not worry, Miss Swan, your amusement is a breath of fresh air. I am glad to see you smiling once more," Masen blinked. Bella saw through the white powder, rouge, and arrogance. She saw a man who genuinely cared if she was alright or not. She found the sentiment strangely out of character for him.
"Glad to see you succeeded, Edward. My brother has been trying and failing to bring a smile out of me the whole afternoon. I cannot laugh when I saw what I saw."
"You saw a common thief, sister. What more is there to it?" Edward drawled, his hand flailing lazily in the air. The perfumed cuff flailed with it, the white lace dancing around his hand. There was more frill on it than on his silly handkerchief.
Bella and Alice exchanged silent glances. They knew that it was more than a common thief. Much more.
"A common thief who easily knocked out at least half a dozen soldiers," Bella added in after a while.
Edward whisked the lace handkerchief from his cuff and blotted his nose with it. "My dear," he said in the arrogant and bored tone. "I can bet you that every other fool out there would out-best the soldiers of these barracks. They have proved to be incompetent fellows. They are known in Safeira as the worst of the worst."
"It seems Major Collins has his work cut out for him, then," Alice cut in.
"That man is indeed a saint. He could have gotten out of taking charge of this garrison, you know. He could have gone elsewhere. But he saw our plight and came to our rescue. A most gallant action, if you ask me," Edward mumbled on.
"I still find it strange, don't you?" Bella said in a pensive voice.
"What?" Alice asked.
"Why would this thief seek out the new house of the mayor, and at such a lavish party? What was he looking for there? Wilson reported nothing stolen, so what was he searching for?" She did not notice the intense eyes of Edward Masen bore themselves into her. How they stared behind the mask of indifference.
"I asked Jasper the same thing," Alice agreed. "I have no idea what he could be searching for. But the timing was quite a brilliant feat. The man knew exactly when to strike. Think of it, it was mostly after most guests had left. Those of us left were either tired or drunk. He had it easy from the start. The only reason he was discovered was due to an abnormality; because Mr. Wilson wanted to show off his weapons collection. If not for that, the intruder would have been successful."
Bella stared down at her hands resting in her skirts. "Maybe, if he had been successful in his endeavor, we would not have had to see that ghastly apparition." Her voice shook as she spoke.
"Miss Swan," Edward said alarmed as he leaned toward her. He had grabbed Alice's fan and started fanning her with fresh air. "You grew terribly pale now all of a sudden," he continued with worry in his voice.
"I… am quite well, Mr. Masen. But I believe I shall retire back home. Perhaps we can meet up again soon," she looked at Alice. "When the memories aren't as fresh?"
Bella stood up, supported by Edward. She was so unaware of how tall he really was. He would tower over her if it were not for the slouch he had in his shoulders, making him some centimeters shorter. He had a footman come help her to her carriage.
Just as Bella passed the threshold to the parlor, she barely missed Carlisle as he walked in. But he caught sight of her. Carlisle Masen looked at her and then back at his children. His eyes came to linger on Edward. "Miss Swan did indeed look ill," he said as he walked into the parlor. Edward leaned against the back of the sofa with an indifferent look on his face.
"I am feeling quite faint as well—after imagining what she and my sister have gone through…" he trailed off
"You inquired after what happened that night when I explicitly forbade you to? Have you no tact son? Did you not see the state she was in?" Carlisle growled. "You shame me with such actions." His voice grew more and more heated until Esmeralda came running, wondering what the commotion was about.
"Carlisle, my love, calm yourself."
"Calm myself? How can I remain calm when my son is the peacock of the town? The laughingstock of the village! My daughters have more tact and courage than him!" he exclaimed, right in front of Alice and Edward.
"Father… that was a bit too harsh," Alice defended her brother. Carlisle had burst out into similar banters before, deeply hurt at seeing his son transformed into such a man. The indifference and arrogance sent him raging because it reminded Carlisle of men that he himself despised back in Safeira—all good for nothings. And he had never wanted Edward to turn out that way.
"That is quite alright, Alice." Edward rose up from the couch. He did not seem affected by the words. But, then again, there was a lot of things about him that his family could not see. "I will retire. Good day," he answered in staccato notes, leaving them while wafting his handkerchief in the air in a casual manner.
Esmeralda stared after her son, her lips set into a thin line, frowning as a sad expression passed over her features. "Alice is right, dear. You are too harsh with him."
"I am sorry, Esme. But whenever I see how he behaves, I cannot control myself," Carlisle said. "I know I should not be this way. I shouldn't behave so shamelessly. I dishonor myself and—" Esme's finger came to rest on his lips, stopping him from speaking.
"Calm down and then speak with him. I am sure our Edward is in there somewhere, I am sure that he is merely hiding underneath this new persona that he has created."
"I wish that were true, Esme," Carlisle whispered back. He wanted to believe that the Edward he had known, the son he had been so proud of, had not disappeared back in England.
As the rumors kept rising, Bella grew ever more restless. The nagging question Alice had posed itched at every possible turn.
What had the intruder wanted? Why was he stalking around Wilson's estate?
Later, she found out that someone had ransacked the garrison during the festivities. If her curiosity had sparked before, it was a full flame now.
It was probably the reason she found herself outside of Collins' office that cloudy morning in August, shivering in the dense morning air. A thick mist had dispersed just hours before. Bella had watched it with her own eyes as Hayes came alive, breaking through the night lazily, with little want.
A soldier shoved her into the office. Sgt. Thompson was sitting by a desk just outside the main office. He had fallen asleep and started snoring. In his left hand, there was a bottle of wine, half spilled out onto some of his documents. In his other, there was a half-eaten piece of meat—veal from the looks of it.
"Lo and behold, the Royal Guard's finest," she murmured under her breath. But how could she be angry when the almost angelic features of the fat sergeant softened as he found peace in his sleep. The corporal who had escorted her inside blushed at the sight and proceeded to excuse his superior officer.
"Corporal, do not worry. Don't wake him on my accord," she smiled.
"You do not understand, Miss Swan, sleeping on duty can get a man executed!" he hissed back. Bella looked from the corporal to the sergeant. A silent agreement passed between the two.
She neared Thompson in silent steps, placing a light hand on his shoulder, shaking it gently. "Sergeant," she murmured in his ear. He stirred, a loud snore escaping him. It made the corporal jump in place, staring at the major's closed office door. He hoped Collins had not heard that. Bella's brow furrowed again. "Sergeant!" she said again, more forcefully. She shook his shoulder again, harder. This repeated a third and fourth time until the office door opened, and Collins stepped out.
Bella and the corporal turned to face the major with surprised expressions on their faces—they looked like children caught doing mischief. Their lips were pressed together, and their eyes had widened as they froze in place, waiting for Collins to break the tension.
A loud snore ripped through the awkward moment, making it all the more tense. Collin's steely eyes drifted to the sleeping Thompson and Bella held her breath, waiting for his imminent reaction.
Collins walked painfully slow steps to the desk, taking in the spilled wine and the piece of veal clutched in the massive hand. Thompson appeared to be dreaming for he was now smiling in his sleep.
Collins nodded in a frustrated sort of way. Bella wondered if this had happened before. He sent her a playful glance finally, a charming smile, ensuring her that all was well.
"Atte—ntion!" he exclaimed loudly all of a sudden, dragging out the word. It sent Bella jumping where she stood. The corporal backed somewhat. But Sgt. Thompson reacted the most violently of them all. He flew from his chair, straightening in a millisecond as his right hand flew into a salute—with the meat still clutched in it. He dropped it, falling with an impressive thud onto the desk, sloshing the wine further.
A dead silence followed where Collins looked at Thompson for a full two minutes before speaking. "I hope you have enjoyed your little nap, sergeant, because when I send you out with tonight's patrol, you will regret ever having placed your head on that desk," the major said with a calm voice, laced with patience.
Bella was certain: this had happened before.
Sgt. Thompson turned red, not daring to utter a word, only nodding in reluctance. He stood firm in his salute as Collins escorted Bella into his own office.
"I will apologize on Sgt. Thompson's behalf. No lady should ever have to witness to such a thing," he lamented. He guided her into his office.
"It is quite alright," Bella urged. She was worried Thompson would get into trouble due to her being there. "I was not offended at the sight at all, I swear!" She sat down in the chair across his desk, mimicking him.
Collins smiled. "He was out on a patrol the entire night. I should have allowed him a few more hours of rest before sending him into duty again," Collins chastised himself. "What you witness was my fault."
"So, he will not get into trouble?" Bella dared ask.
"I will not place him in front of a firing squad if that is what you wonder. I am not Captain Forster. If we condemned every man to execution for improper behavior while on duty, this garrison would be empty since long ago."
Her hand went to her chest. "Good to hear," she breathed out.
"But I suspect that is not why you have come to visit me." Did she imagine it or was there a hopeful glint in his eyes?
"No, indeed not Major Collins. I came because of the events that took place at Mr. Wilson's estate about a week ago," she started. The hopeful glint seemed to give way to disappointment.
He nodded. Bella shared her doubts; the abnormality of the entire situation. After having listened to her, a pensive look invaded his features.
"I have found it just as strange, Miss Swan. But I have little to go on at the moment. The best thing I can do now is to wait for him to strike again, and to slip up."
Bella nodded. "But who knows what he might do next, major. This man…" she trailed off. "He took out so many of your soldiers with so little effort." She shivered. Bella was frightened despite herself. That shadow was a danger, a great big danger.
Collins took her hand in his and squeezed it, the touch a bit too familiar. His handsome face was split by the lonesome smile "Fear not, Isabella, I will not let him near you again," he swore.
Her heart should have skipped a beat. But all Bella found was that such close proximity on his behalf was uncomfortable. She blamed it on her inexperience with men. She should consider herself flattered that Collins was showing her such attention.
Bella cleared her voice and soon stood up. "I must leave, there is much to be done today." She walked to the door of his office.
"Miss Swan," he murmured as he came to open it for her. "If you ever have any doubts again, do not hesitate to come to me. Any information is valuable information."
Bella nodded slowly. "I shall, major. Thank you."
"Edward Cullen."
The name hung in the air amidst a waning tension. Someone shifted, placing their cup of tea on the table next to the sofa. Few spoke of him, of the man who had been dead for almost three hundred years.
A name that had always been said with pride and warmth was now silenced. Edward Cullen was no longer the general who had died for his country. He was a figure in the night, tied to words of rebellion. "Audeamus" echoed wherever he went. And many, while believing in the message he sent, kept silent of their opinions. But word did indeed circulate that the man who had rescued Billy Black was, in fact, the ghost of Edward Cullen. Simmons was no longer the only one to have seen him.
A group of bandits, who kept stealing the coaches transporting people and goods going through Raven's Grove, had one day been delivered to the gates of the garrison, thrown over their horses, their hands tied behind their backs, their mouths gagged silent and Audeamus written on their hides as some type of sick joke.
And people started speaking about the general in hushed voices again, about the man who had, three hundred years earlier led the charge against Victoria Fell—a usurper of the Angloan throne. Edward Cullen had lost his life in a critical battle defending Adelton Hall and Cadherra.
Many started recalling the tragic love story between Edward Cullen and his love. The fact that Bella shared a name with such a woman made her turn heads whenever she walked down the street—as if her name automatically made her the accomplice of the mysterious man.
"It's not him," she murmured, sipping her juice. Alice had, after a while, discovered that Bella was not too fond of tea. She had wordlessly started offering her an alternative instead—curtsey of Little Lucy, who had whispered into her ear.
"Of course it is not him," Rosalie McCarty snickered matter-of-factly next to her husband. "Only a simpleton would think a man has risen from the dead."
"But you have to agree, the notion is interesting—that Edward Cullen should return to the living to exact revenge for the citizens of Hayes. That he fights for the people once more," Jasper said, a fire aglow in his eyes.
"So far, he has fought against the guards, broken out a man from prison and delivered some bandits. He has also only seen it fit to leave silly notes in a language most common folk cannot read," Rosalie continued, ever the voice of reason. Bella felt out of place among the Masens, Hales, and McCartys. But Alice had invited her over for afternoon tea, saving her from having to go to Miss Stanley's soirée.
"But the common folk do understand what that word means. Audeamus is not just some fancy Latin word to them. At least not to the people of Hayes." Bella set down the glass harshly on the lace cloth sprawled over the polished table. She did not take kindly to Rosalie barraging down on the townspeople as if they were inferior somehow.
Edward kept fanning himself, sitting closest to the window in the elegant drawing room. His rogued cheeks were aflush and Bella imagined it was due to the layering of his finely tailored clothes. His nose kept up in the air, the starched cravat almost passing his jaw. He leaned back stiffly, and she wondered if he wore a corset. The mere thought provoked a stifled chuckle and she had to retreat behind her own fan.
But what Bella had not noted during her keen observation, was how his eyes trailed over to her, emerald orbs regarding the fine figure that she cut, sitting straight on the beige futon. His orbs ran down her white, swan-like neck like droplets of water, not able to stop himself from resting on the swell of her bosom that rose and fell with every breath that she took.
He looked away, the fan working harder in his hand.
Alice saw the rays of malice passing from Rosalie to Bella, the firm dislike her sister held for her friend was hard to miss. But Bella hardly seemed affected by the leering look she received from the oldest sister. Emmett whispered something to Rosalie under his breath and the young woman suddenly remembered herself.
The raven-haired young woman decided to jump into action before a decidedly awkward moment grew utterly unbearable. "Who do you think he is?"
It was a good question, a speculation they all had pondered at one time. Hayes and its townspeople kept gossiping about the true identity behind the façade of Edward Cullen and his message of Audeamus.
"Anyone," Emmett spoke. He leaned forward and placed his empty cup on the table. The sheer curtains danced as a breeze drifted into the roof, alleviating the stifling heat inside. "How can we speculate when we have little to go on?" He shifted, his large frame making the crowded sofa he sat on uncomfortable. "If I were to see him fight, I might know at least which class he stems from," he added.
Emmett McCarty enjoyed the art of fighting very much—for he did it for sport. He was well versed in the fencing arts, but as well as boxing. He was a gentleman and only practiced with other gentlemen. But something told Bella that he had fought against all stances in society by the way Rosalie wrinkled her nose.
Delicate eyebrows knitted together as a curious Bella Swan leaned forward. "How?" she asked, keenly interested in hearing his statement on the matter.
Emmett smirked, a most charming trait he held. His hand ran through his cropped hair as he settled back next to Rosalie. "It is very simple, Miss Swan. Fencing is the sport of a gentleman. If he fights recklessly, using a knife as his weapon of choice—or his hands—we might deduce that he has had no training from the masters in Europe. Thus, we could conclude that he is not of upper society, which would rule out a percentage of Hayes: for I believe this man to be from here." It had somehow passed Bella that she had witnessed the fiend using a sword at Wilson's estate. The shock of the moment must have erased that part from her mind.
"Indeed!" Jasper exclaimed, growing more eager by the minute. "Who else but someone from Hayes could have gotten notice of Billy Black's first imprisonment? We did not attract attention until Mr. Johnson came from Safeira."
Emmett gave Jasper a small nod and a wink. "And if the chap favors using a pistol it might be harder. But then the pistol might give away his station. The more intricate the pistol, the richer the man—"
"Or he could have stolen it," Bella smirked. "We are talking about someone who broke into the garrison treasury; no mere thief, Mr. McCarty."
"Then he has already given away something." Emmett shifted his attention to her, waiting for Bella to fill in the missing piece.
"We do not know anything about the man save for him being able to break into the most guarded places in Hayes with little difficulty." She had not noticed how Edward had stopped fanning himself entirely, clinging to every word that she spoke. Alice waited for her friend to continue as well. Both Emmett and Jasper seemed to have spoken of this before because they kept exchanging glances, wondering if she would figure it out.
"A common thief or bandit could not have achieved such a feat." She sprang up, her wide eyes and look of realization making it seem as if a lightbulb had been ignited in her mind. "This man had training!" she exclaimed eagerly.
"Training that might be hard to get just anywhere!" Alice joined in.
Their little game amused some while it bothered others. Rosalie leaned against the sofa next to Emmett, looking rather bored. Edward was in the process of wiping his forehead with his excessively lacy handkerchief. "Which means this man might have traveled."
"But," Bella trailed off. "Are we not over-speculating now? We are grasping at straws." Unbeknownst to her, she had started pacing about the room as she pondered their subject rather imminently.
"The truth is we that know nothing, and we are constructing a case about a man whose face we have not even seen." She turned to them. "A mere semblance of a man…a shadow." Bella shivered, cold despite the warmth.
Emmett sighed. "But it is a fun thing, to speculate over this person, do you not agree, Miss Swan?"
Bella blushed that she had been so carried away by what most of them had considered a game. Alice spoke out in her defense. "I do not consider it a game when the presence of that…thing is very real. What are we to do when a supposed dead man is practically insisting that we rise up as a people with propaganda from three centuries ago?"
"Alice, dear, what is there to be afraid of? It is most likely some town fool with extreme luck who happened to be at the right place at the right time." Edward's drawl was drawn out, his nose sticking up in the air.
Alice ignored her brother. "Maybe, Isabella, the next time you see him, you might notice these things we have spoken of."
"I assure you that there will be no next time to speak of!" The young woman shuddered to think it, she had no wish to cross paths with that thing again.
They spoke mostly of Major Collins and what he was doing to remedy the incident. When afternoon pushed into night, it was time for Bella to leave.
She was walked down to the foyer by Alice and Jasper. Joseph stood, waiting with the opened door as a footman had April ready down the stairs.
"Are you sure you will not need an escort home, Miss Swan?" The purple of evening settled as night beckoned. Jasper was uncomfortable letting the young woman get home by herself, especially after the recent occurrences that had hit their sleepy little town.
Her lips stretched over her teeth at his kind gesture. "My house is but fifteen minutes from here. I reckon I shall be fine, Mr. Hale. Besides, with Sgt. Thompson and his able men patrolling the streets we should all feel safe," she chuckled.
"His presence in the streets at night does put my mind to rest," Jasper agreed in an amused tone.
Bella did not wish to have an escort because she was not heading home. She planned to see Little Lucy at The Laughing Goose and then drop by Jacob before heading to the outskirts of town for a late-night ride.
April took her through narrow and desolate streets with lazy strides to the square where The Laughing Goose stood lit, attracting the townsfolk like moths to a flame. She tied April to a post outside and stepped in to be met by jovial laughter, a lonesome guitar playing in the corner and much chatter.
Lucy was serving drinks at the bar and gave one of her customers a hard clap on the back while her hearty laughter rang loudly in the establishment. Bella took in the sight—letting it imprint into her memory. When she was much older, and Hayes might have transformed by the stretch of time, this was the kind of town she wished to remember; the townspeople having a blast as Lucy provided them with mead and wine.
"Miss!" came the burly voice, instantly bringing her attention to the bar. Lucy winked her over.
"I came at the busiest hour, it seems," the young woman said loudly through the chatter while leaning against the bar.
Lucy's harsh features soured as she brushed some escaped blonde hair that had fallen out of her bun and into her flushed face. "Hayes has chosen to remedy her problems with liquor. We've had some busy weeks ever since the death of Ridge," she mumbled—only for Bella's ears.
The young woman's features darkened at the name of Lucas. "Lucy, I need to speak with you," she mumbled.
Lucy wiped the counter absentmindedly, looking at Bella confused. "We're talkin' now, miss," she stated, matter-of-factly.
"Alone," Bella pressed.
Lucy sensed the urgency. The brunette gripped her skirts tightly under her cloak with narrowed eyes and tense jaw. Her shoulders were squared and her stance making her lean forward.
"Follow me," she said as she prompted the young woman to follow her behind her bar, through tight and dim-lit corridors until they walked through a flimsy-looking door and into a small room. The walls were aged wood, the same as the floorboards. A dirty rug covered the center of the room; rectangle in shape and its color long since faded. In the far end was a hastily made bed under a window where now stars shone through, illuminating the room in a faint silver and bluish light. Under the bed she spotted a coffin, no doubt to house Lucy's garments.
Lucy lit an oil lamp and offered Bella a wooden stool to sit on. "These are my lodgings, not much to look at," Lucy began, she shrugged her shoulders and arched her eyebrows. "They're quite shit, actually. But they're a place to sleep, ya know?"
"It's fine, Lucy," Bella urged.
The burly woman placed the lamp in the small window. "What ha ya so riled up now that ya dragged me away from the bar?" she demanded with her charming accent.
Bella did not know where to start. Impulse had urged her to get her friend alone. The mere mention of Lucas' name had spurred into action and no thought had allowed the young woman to control herself.
"I was cleaning Mr. Ridge's lodgings the other day."
Her hand slipped into the folds of her skirts, nimble fingers searching blindly for a folded piece of paper that seemingly had been forgotten; until now. "I found this."
It was merely a slip of paper, but to Bella, it was a source of worry, an omen of sorts. Just like at the Masen's townhouse, she let her mind wander as to what its contents might mean. If Lucy deduced the same, then maybe she wasn't so crazy.
Her fingers itched as the larger woman's pudgy hand snatched it from her grasp and carelessly unfolded it. Lucy could read, she had to know how as the owner of a tavern.
Bella waited with her breath caught in her throat. In the window, the candlelight flickered lazily. Lucy's face was an open book as her features contorted and twisted in what could only be described as confusion laced over with sadness.
Calloused fingers folded the note with great care; like she was holding the most precious treasure in the world. "Ya should not be givin' this note to just anyone, miss."
Then, had her friend realized what that note might hold? "Lucy," Bella started. "Do you think there is something more to it?" She wondered why it was that she had asked Lucy out of all her acquaintances. They held a strange friendship that stretched beyond a simple acquaintance. Perhaps, at the back of her mind, Bella knew Lucy would not laugh at her if her suspicions proved to be mere paranoia on her behalf.
Maybe they were, judging from the arched eyebrow which she received while Lucy's hand rested on the dirty apron that had haplessly been tied about her waist.
"What more could the letter of a poor suicidal man contain?"
"I meant," she licked her lips and ignored the sudden heat that brushed over her. "Do you think it was a suicide?"
Lucy might not possess the finesse to read between the lines. However, the downtrodden look of worry, fear, and paranoia on Bella's face told her that she was asking a rather loaded question. Asking if Lucas Ridge had been murder was enough to stop her in her tracks. Little Lucy was not often left speechless. Yet, Bella Swan had managed to rid her of speech, rendering her mute while she thought her answer out.
Young Swan was fidgety, and she might well be. Asking if someone had been murdered was severe—but even more so when it was asked in Hayes.
Lucy's features darkened. "Be careful now, Bella." She clutched the note in her hand, a simple piece of paper that held more weight in the words written on it.
"I—" she did not continue with her words. It was a question Lucy had not wanted posed to her.
"Ya hide that note now." She pushed it back into Bella's hands, acting as if the innocent piece of paper were made out of boiling oil. "Burn it, cast it in the river, bury it; get rid of it."
Bella's forehead puckered, and she shifted in her stance, leaning away from Lucy. "Do you know something I am not supposed to?"
Lucy's form was suddenly too large, too intimidating in that small room, the wax candle casting grotesque shadows over an otherwise likable and jovially pudgy face.
"I ain't involved, but I know Hayes. Even if the major is here now, it is still dangerous to be askin' these questions, miss. Hide what ya know or suspect. Forget that note and let Ridge be forgotten with it," she cautioned.
"How can you say such a thing? You were acquainted with Mr. Ridge—with Lucas, Lucy! He was our friend, and someone might have—"
"Aye," Luce stepped to her and spoke quickly, hissing under her breath, trying to make Bella see the danger. "Aye, he was my friend, Bella. And, yes, he might have been murdered." She spoke the last word in a barely audible whisper, afraid even saying it would end her own life. "And if he was, then rest assured his killer will not want to leave any loose ends. Ya will not go about town and ask anyone else, lest ya have a death wish. Yer puttin' yer own life on the line."
Bella shook her head in anger and disgust. She stepped away from Lucy. The young woman was aghast for she knew her friend spoke the truth. She would be attracting unwanted attention if she kept going around and asking others about the note.
"I know what yer feelin'." Lucy stepped over to her and placed a friendly arm about her shoulder, trying to win the disheartened Bella back to her side. "But we live in difficult times. We best not end up like Mr. Black now. We keep our heads down and our mouths shut. That's how it's always been, that's how it will remain."
Both women saw the flicker of regret in each other's faces. It was not a reality either wished to live in. They both held pride and Bella saw, in the depths of Lucy's black and widening orbs, that she too would have spoken out if circumstances had been different. The tavern owner wanted Bella safe, hoping her words would protect her from going further with her inquiries.
"I should be getting back," Bella said, breaking the silence.
Lucy answered with a mere nod and took her back to the front. The laughter and merry faces did not speak as much to Bella as when she had entered The Laughing Goose. The note, still secure in her pocket, was the only proof she had—a hunch.
As Lucy walked her to April in the darkness of the night, Bella promised herself she would not cast away the message Ridge had left behind. She mounted her mare and rode off into a canter, feeling the eyes of the large woman trained on her back before leaving the square.
She had planned to see Jacob, but after her conversation with Lucy, she needed the feeling of freedom to wash over her. Bella guided April through the dark and desolate streets. Hayes had fallen asleep with the night. The curfew was in place, but after Collins had taken over at the garrison, she did not feel as afraid to break it.
They rode out of town through the northern gate—usually unguarded—heading to the fields of heather that dotted the side of Hayes.
April's canter broke out into a gallop and the rider merged with her step, animal and woman growing into one as the stars shone down with silver streaks. Heather, grass, and dirt was the perfume of the night and it filled Bella's nostrils, expanding her lungs with her deep breaths. She squeezed the reins tighter and urged April to go faster. She needed to get away from Hayes; the politics, the gossip, the mystery.
Chocolate orbs were drawn in by the mystery of the forest. Raven's Grove called out to her. But, for the first time, Bella hesitated. The woods had always been her home and provided a feeling of safety. But after the past few weeks, she did not truly know what lurked between the trees.
She was not an idiot. Riding into the forest at this hour of the night was folly; blatant idiocy. Maybe the shadow wasn't the ghost of Edward Cullen. Maybe he was something worse. Her skin prickled, and her heartbeat rose at an alarming rate as she was reminded of that fateful evening when she had stood face to face with that thing.
Suddenly, she did not feel safe outside of the walls that encircled Hayes. Suddenly, she imagined someone was in the darkness of the woods, watching her, waiting for her. April stopped, sensing her mistress' quick change in demeanor. Her ears flickered as she turned to face the woods. The tree-line was close, darkness seeping out onto the field. Bella strained her eyes, but Raven's Grove swallowed whatever light the stars might provide.
A feeling—something akin to a sixth sense—took hold of her. She could not justify it to herself, but a strange sensation of being watched grew stronger the longer she remained by the heather field. April's ears were upright now, and the mare stood quiet on the spot, listening for something.
The seconds ticked by until a summer breeze rolled across the field, sweeping past Bella, intensifying the waft of the eve.
April neighed. It jolted Bella in her saddle at the sudden sound and she pulled at the reins, but her mare remained glued to the spot. Her limbs grew stiff as a flight or fight instinct settled into the primitive part of her brain. Bella no longer functioned on rational thought. Her brain only knew one thing: she needed to get away from there.
The breeze picked up speed; as if nature sensed her distress and it produced a shiver out of her. Yet, it was not out of cold.
She listened, her eyes trained on the same direction April was facing. The seconds must have grown into minutes until the young woman started relaxing in the saddle. She was about to laugh at her foolish reaction when April neighed again.
And another neigh followed in response. It echoed out through the trees, caught by the summer winds that danced around her.
Her heels dug into April's sides as she pulled at the reins with all her might. April reared at the force of her mistress' command and pulled to the side, setting off in a mad gallop. Bella did not dare to look back, the feeling of being watched had increased tenfold.
When the walls of Hayes approached like a lighthouse directing lost sailors on a stormy sea to safety, she could have sworn that she heard a distant chuckle emerging from the trees.
But maybe it was the wind that taunted her in her escape.
A/N: Thank you for those who reviewed the last chapter! It was very interesting reading your theories! I hope you will enjoy this chapter as well. :)
I wish you a good start to the week!
Cheers,
Isabelle