Chapter 11: Scars
There was a note next to the shrived rose and shattered remains of her wedding ring.
Angela hesitantly picked it up while Queen Renee tried to reassure her daughter. Bella was crying harder than she ever had in her life.
He doesn't love me, he left me. He broke our bonds. He hates me. I love him. I still do, I want him back. Oh, God, please!
"Hush, my dear, don't worry. I am positive that he will come back." Mother was talking, though even she didn't sound so confident.
Angela was nodding, holding up the parchment. "Your Highnesses? May I?"
"Yes, yes, of course."
It was so beautiful Bella knew that there were as many pieces of her heart as diamond shards. She could even stop crying to listen to Angela's rich voice glide over her lover's words.
"'My dear lover, I am truly sorry about the things I said. I am sorry for causing you so much stress, and for this I write to tell you that the stress will leave—I hope if I leave, your life will be less harsh for you. I am sorry. I had hoped you would forgive me, but since you ran, my hopes have been crushed. So, my final words are words of praise. I never got to describe how you are to me, since the first time I saw you. And even the most skilled poet cannot describe your beauty. I hope these words are enough to please you. I wish to see you again. Now, here is what you are to me: Bella, you are my love. Your eyes are like endless blue oceans, so blue, so sparkling. Your lips are so perfect, and I enjoyed kissing them, just like your silky hair and warm neck. I marveled at how smooth your hands are, compared to my rough servant hands. I wonder, do you understand that it is difficult to match beauty to words? Trust me with your life, it is. If I could dance with you, I know that you would be like a seal, so fluid and elegant. Did I mention your pretty freckles? They dot your face like sparkles, which makes me stare. No other maiden is fairer than you. I suppose, since I left, you wouldn't want to see me. I very much hope not. I never brought you pretty gifts like your friend, but you once said my love was enough. Now, I believe it so.
My dearest, wherever you are, I will be near. I love you with all the pieces of my heart.'"
Angela looked up with tears in her eyes. "That was pure poetry, Mistress," she whimpered to Bella.
She was truly amazed by Edward's words. They sent shivers down her back and chilled her blood. She never knew he felt about her, and now she knew. But this was a farewell letter. He might be true to his word about staying close, but he would not show himself. Why did he smash the ring if he loved her still? If he knew how she felt, he would have kept it or tucked it safely away. So, why, she wondered.
Her eyes filling with tears, she nodded to Angela, who was sniffling. "Yes. Yes, it is. I will always love him, no matter what he does, where he is, or what he says."
Mother took the note and led her daughter to bed. "Sweet dreams, my dear. Your lover will be with you always."
She blew out the candle and went to her chambers, Angela scampering after her.
Bella shifted out of her bed to look out to the window, her dark village's torches burning into the night. "Good night, my love," she whispered before falling into a dream full of roses and diamonds.
Somewhere down in the village of Swan, a black-haired man leaned out of his home. His green eyes were fixed on a single window on the castle. His heart twisted with the pain of what he had done.
"My love…"
Bella woke to feel sadly inspired. There was talk these days of a poet, called Shakespeare. He was fantastic, they said. One of his plays was called 'Romeo and Juliet.' Though she never heard it or saw it, she heard talk of the servants. One said her favorite line was
"'O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?'"
Thus, her inspiration: "Wherefore art thou Edward?"
And another line made her think—could it be true? Could I be true that 'There's no trust, no faith, no honesty in men?'
Ever since Edward left that fatal yet heart-wrenching note, Bella often thought of these things. True, all men could be honest, trustworthy, and faithful. But all the time, through all sorts? No. That would be a dream come true.
Jessica came in later, a solemn expression on her face. Silently, awkwardly, she dressed Bella. Apparently, word had gotten out. Angela?
Finally, Jessica seemed to snap. "Well?" she growled. "Aren't you going to say anything? Do anything?"
Bella gazed calmly at the servant with her arms crossed and her lips pursed. "Of course I am, dear, when I feel up to it."
She drifted out of the room.
Going nowhere in particular, she walked down the cold corridors. But soon—with the chilling winter air—she was shivering and her teeth chattered.
Then she found a servant boy sweeping the floors. She stepped towards him, wanting to ask for a cloak or shawl. But a large, fierce-looking woman came bustling around the corner. Her heart leaping, Bella backtracked to look behind another corner.
The boy rolled on his back like a puppy being scolded, and he yelped. The woman had a short, stiff rope. Was she whipping him? The bucket of soap water tipped, spilling the contents over the servant.
"You lazy son of a peasant!" the woman screeched, bringing down her whip. The boy cringed, but uttered no sound. "You lie down on the job. I ought to turn you in! Thank God I take mercy on you bilge rats!"
Anger make her strong. Her fists curled and she felt like screaming. What did this woman think she was doing? These servants pledge loyalty, to help the royal family. They are not bilge rats!
Bella stepped into the woman's view. She gasped and dropped the rope when she saw her princess. She hastily bowed, genuine fear on her ruddy face. "Oh, Mistress, Your Highness! Oh, my, what are you doing—?"
"Save it," Bella snapped, stepping away in disgust when she tried to kiss her shoe. "What are you doing to that boy?"
Wrenched, she kneeled in the soap water and felt the boy. He was barely breathing. Mind racing, she filled her lungs with air. Before she could scream, a rough dirty hand clamped over her mouth.
"If you so much as utter a word," the woman hissed menacingly, "it'll be your last."
Feeling no fear, Bella nodded. "You're Lauren, aren't you? Jessica told me."
Fire seemed to light her eyes. "That twit!" She pointed a finger at the princess. "Don't you worry, my dear, there will be a punishment. And I see it in your eyes—something terrible will happen to you."
With that, Lauren snatched up her rope and tottered down the hall.
"Help! Help! A boy is hurt!"
The boy was suffering from a serious whip-wound on his back, bleeding horribly, but he would be fine.
Bella and her parents were crowded around the servant in the infirmary. "Will he be all right?" fretted the queen, chewing on her perfect nails.
"My Queen," scolded Angela, pulling down her arm.
"Oh, the boy will be fine by the time the snow clears." Father didn't look convinced.
Neither was Bella. The gash ripped into the boy's flesh all across his back and to his shoulder. By the time he was healed, it would be next winter.
He was unconscious now, his face so peaceful after his brief and fierce battle.
"What is his name?" she whispered to no one in particular.
Angela sniffled, and when Bella turned to her, her eyes were filled with sorrowful admiration. Did Angela like this boy? "His...his name is Edwin." She smiled a sad, wistful smile. "He used to bring me flowers."
She knew how good it felt to be loved. Edwin seemed innocent, and too young to die. She handed Angela a handkerchief. "Here," she offered, "Edward gave it to me."
At the mention of his name, it sent several rushes of pain. She hadn't meant to say his name, but it just came out. Oh, how she missed him.
Mother, Father, and Angela sent her looks of understanding. Bella gazed down.
Then a skinny nurse came in. she was also a nun.
"Let me through, let me through," she snapped. She brought out a casket, producing a roll of bandage. Angela supporting him, the nurse wrapped it skillfully around his body. Blood quickly caught up; soon the white was red.
When done, the nurse brushed her hands together, looking satisfied. "He'll be fine in a month's time, maybe two," she announced to her king and queen. "He suffered much, but fear not!" She went to the door, instantly glaring at them each in turn. "If I were you, I'd hang whoever did that." She gazed straight at Bella, who flinched. "You know, don't you? I would forget that promise and tell your father."
Slamming the door, the nun left. God knows all, and has many ways of showing it.
Father's eyes burned a hole in her forehead. "What was that nurse talking about? Surely its nonsense?"
She looked up guiltily at him, glancing sideways at Angela. Her eyes were hopeful—she wanted revenge? "Yes. Yes, I know who did it."
"Who?" gasped Mother, taking a step forward.
"It was the head servant. Lauren. She whipped him."
Angela and Mother gasped loudly. Father cursed.
"I knew I should not have hired her," he muttered.
"Charlie!" Mother hissed.
"Oh, that woman is a menace!" Angela's soft voice was hard with anger. "She treats us like dumb animals!"
She was almost red with rage, but by the time she had noticed the queen's, the king's, and the princess's staring, she had stormed out of the room.
And so, King Charlie decided to have Lauren put in the stocks for a week.
In the stone clearing, crowd cheering, the executioner stood ready.
Bella and her parents stood in a balcony over top the clearing where the stocks stood in the middle of a crowd of anxious peasants. King Charlie allowed most of the servants to go down to the others to enjoy Lauren's pain. Angela was ready with her handful of rotten fruit, like the other peasants relished doing.
In a tremor of uncertainty, she hoped Sue wasn't down there. She may not like Lauren, but seeing her friend throw decaying food at her made her uncomfortable. Searching the faces, she relaxed a bit. Sue's black hair was nowhere to be seen.
"Let the ceremony begin!" shouted the executioner suddenly, raising his arms and drinking in the cries of the crowd.
Bella looked over towards the castle entrance, where the portcullis was being raised. In a matter of moments, two heavily armed knights marched in, Lauren in between. Bella gasped and braced herself against the great shiver running down her spine. Her face was dark with anger, her eyes daring anyone to challenge her. But those cold eyes did not rest on the others long. They drifted to the princess, flashing with menace. Tripping, she barked something at the guards. They stopped, but held her arms tighter. Lauren stared straight at Bella. Unable to break the spell of her eyes, she listened. The crowd was deathly silent.
"You witch!" shrieked Lauren. "You put this mockery upon me! After I told you to keep your pretty princess lips shut! You dare report me? I should hunt you like the rat you are!"
The king stood suddenly. All eyes watched him warily, including the prisoner. "I should think not!" he yelled.
"You dare insult the royal family? I have decided to postpone your humiliation"—there were a couple of boos—"for your hanging is at sunset. This meeting is over! May God be with you."
She found herself begging her father to demolish Lauren's execution.
She was a fair, loyal princess who obeyed her kingdom and father's law, but even this death sentence was unfair. It was too rash, too sudden. What did she care for being insulted? She was probably made fun of all the time, yet she was positive she was respected.
Father was looking down at her disdainfully, if not admiringly. "My dear, it must be done. What else would you propose? Miss Lauren disobeyed the law, you know that."
Bella wished her father could be less guarded. "Father, you know that that is unfair! Why not send her to the dungeons for life? I wish not to see her dead, much less hung. Please, Father? I'm sure Mother does not want to see anyone hanged, yes?"
The king was shaking his head. "No, I'm sorry, Bella. I'm in charge, therefore I enforce rules. There is nothing you can do to change my mind."
He waved her off. Bella stalked away haughtily, but feeling very downcast. How can her fair, justified father be so cruel? She was positive he did not like corpses hanging by his castle.
Bella walked towards the kitchen, hunger getting the better of her. "Maybe Mother can convince him," she mumbled, turning a corner.
Once at the kitchen, the cooks made her warm carrot stew. Relishing the taste, she remembered Anne, Zenaku's servant girl. She put down her spoon in sadness. What happened to her? After Edward got her out, the whole barn collapsed. What became of the cooks? Servants? All the others?
The garden?
She missed the gorgeous Japanese garden, full of life. The sweet, familiar scents of the flowers seemed to wreath around her. Then a snort on the back of her neck made her jump and whip around—nothing was there except for the kitchen.
"Mistress?" The cook looked at her in concern, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Are you all right? Is the soup warm enough?"
"Yes." She couldn't shake the feeling of an animal's breath on her skin.
Were the golden deer from Heaven watching her?
That night, Bella asked for Angela to sing her to sleep.
Her melodious voice echoed softly across the room:
"Hush.
Lay down your troubled mind.
And the wind, whispering soft lullabies,
Will soothe, so close your weary eyes.
Sleep, angels will watch over you.
And soon, beautiful dreams will come true.
Can you feel the spirits embracing your soul?
So dream.
While secrets of darkness unfold."
Her eyes fluttering with sleep, Bella heard Angela say, "Sweet dreams, my princess, your lover will always be near to wish you his thanks for being by his side."
And she fell in a peaceful sleep murmuring, "I still love him, I still love him, I still…"
The next morning, Bella was wrested from her sleep feeling overheated. Her brow was wet with sweat. Wiping it away, gasping for fresh air, Bella tumbled out of bed. When she looked to her mirror, she saw a note in the side of the gilded gold. Reaching over, she read aloud: "'Princess Isabella, I am sad to say you seem too stressed. If you should ever need me, or any others, ring the bell I have sent. Jessica.'"
Putting the parchment down, she sighed. Her servants certainly cared for her. Speaking of servants…
Ringing the bell—it made a wonderful tinkling sound, like wind chimes—Bella waited for her friends. Angela knocked, followed by her delighted face.
"Good morning, Your Highness!" she greeted cheerfully. She skipped to the closet, picking out a shimmery purple dress. "How about this?" she asked, twirling in circles with it. The sunlight danced on the silk.
Bella laughed. It felt so good to laugh in these troubled times. She often thought she lost her laugh. When was the last time she did? "That's great, Angela. Why are you so perky?"
"Oh," she squeaked, blushing. "Well, I have great news!"
She started to dress her. "Tell me then. The sorrows are making me old. I need good news."
Angela gave her a look. "Have you been listening to our gossip? That's a line from 'Romeo and Juliet.' 'These sorrows make me old.' I do agree that he is a genius."
She smiled. Yet she couldn't figure why Angela was so giddy. "Angela?"
"Ah, yes!" She finished putting on the silky dress, and was working on getting the knots out of her long hair. She grinned very widely. "Edwin's awake!"
A wave of happiness flooded her. "That's great! Is he up to walking yet?"
"No. But he talked to me!"
"What did he say?"
She blushed deeper, shifting her feet. "Well…he—he said…" Angela did a little jump, clapping her hands. "He said he saw me and fainted, I was so pretty! He promised me flowers!"
Gushing, Bella hugged Angela, who sobbed with happiness. "My, he must love you!" Bella cried. "You're so lucky."
She sniffled. "I'm just glad he is alright."
The princess stepped back. "Is he well enough for visitors? I have quite a busy day, mind you."
Angela regained balance. "Yes, Nurse Claire seemed fine with it, so I suppose. Would you mind if I come along?"
She started for the door. "Of course. I always enjoy company."
She just wished her company was a certain servant named Edward.
A/N: Song is Prayer by Secret Garden. I don't own anything, all rights to their rightful owners…
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE REVIEW or I will cry! Please I haven't even got one! Yeah, I know it's not the best story you'll ever read but the least you wonderful people could do is say 'Nice job.' Anything, please. Remember, Christmas is coming up…!
Please and thank you, Wolf Lover42! Merry early Christmas!
