Sorry for the cliff hanger last time. The next chapter isn't quite finished since Christmas has given less time to finish, but shouldn't be too long a wait as its not much left on it :) Thanks for all your support guys and I apologise for this chapter since it may induce tears :/
Unprepared.
Everything occurred at such a pace that all Isabella noticed at first was the sound of a gun-shot and the spray of warm liquid hitting the bare skin of her face and shoulders.
Chaos ensued around her, but she did not process most of it. Crowds parted and guards were sent to apprehend the culprit of the shooting, but all she noticed was her husband's arms encircling her. Protecting her from all that was happening around them.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice was beyond frantic. All she could do was shake her head. She did not possess the ability to speak or comprehend what had just this moment transpired. It was only the sounds of Her Majesty's voice that drew her from her state of shock.
"We need help!" She cried out, her usually smooth and composed face was speckled with her husband's blood. She had fallen onto the pavement beside him, her hands firmly pressed against his chest. His Majesty's crisp white shirt was now forever tarnished by the wound that had been opened in his chest. Isabella had been unaware of what had happened exactly until she saw him there. Pale and wounded beyond her comprehension, he lay collapsed on the cement pavement less than a foot from the theatre entrance.
Before she could offer any assistance, the guards were ushering both herself and her husband into the carriage they had only just exited. Her Majesty did not join them and did not look their way as the carriage was forced to remove the heir from the place of danger. His Majesty was severely hurt and she immediately understood why they had been escorted from the scene at the thought of His Majesty's injuries. They were protecting the heir to the throne; her husband. His hand's shook in hers. All they had witnessed this evening would stay them for the rest of their lives. His father had been shot and Isabella could not understand why. Was it the same reasons as her father? Or was there an altogether different reason why someone had tried to target them? She did not claim to understand motives for such an attack. She did not claim to understand anything that had occurred this night.
It was not until they reached the relative safety of the heavily guarded palace ground that she began to sort through the memories of all that had occurred. She had handed Her Majesty her fan and His Majesty had moved suddenly to stand before them. She had not been given a moment to process His Majesty's movements or understand them until now. He had not been the intended target of this attack, but had instead moved to protect both herself and his wife. Her chest grew tight and she found breathing difficult as they were hurried from the carriage and into the entrance hall. The staff who greeted them were beyond alarmed at their sudden reappearance and the appearance of Her Royal Highness, whose usually flawless skin was marred by the presence of blood. She could still feel the dampness of it clinging to her bared skin. It caused sickness to well inside her and she wished more than anything to vomit. She could not allow herself to do so, however, and instead held onto her husband's hand tightly and willed herself to gain control. Never in her life had she felt this way, not even at her father's passing. At least then, she hadn't witnessed it. Yes, she had imagined it on many occasions, but she had never physically witnessed anything as traumatic as the events of this evening. Once inside, Lady Weber appeared within minutes and at her husband's insistence escorted Isabella to her chamber, away from the events that were about to unfold.
His shock at what had ensued was profound and all-consuming and yet it could not be so. With his father injured, it was his duty to take charge and gain control over the situation. After his wife was safely removed from the chaos, he took multiple deep breaths and began putting a plan towards his father's safety into motion. He explained to the best of his ability what had transpired and sent people to fetch doctors and the other necessary professionals. It pained him to call for the priest, but all he could do was pray that it would not be necessary. He was not prepared for his father to depart this world. Of course, he was not ignorant of the fact that it would happen one day, he just hoped beyond hope that that day would not be today. He was just not prepared. Not prepared to face what his father's death would mean and he was certainly not prepared to say a final goodbye. But then, he reasoned, he would likely never be ready to say such a farewell. He may have disliked his father from time to time, what son did not? But it would cause him great pain to have to utter words of farewell. Seeing his father hurt, his mortality displayed for the crowds to see, caused his blood to run cold and his breathing to become rapid. He verged on the edge of panic and attempted to pull himself away from such behaviour.
He was forced to gain control over his body, however, as an unfamiliar carriage pulled into the spot that their own had recently stood only moments ago. This carriage brought the chaos with it. His father was deathly pale as he was lifted from the carriage by two guards, he was followed through the house by a doctor that His Royal Highness did not recognise and his mother. Her pale silver frock was coated in his father's blood, her hands and wrists were stained red and she, like his wife, wore a speckle of blood across her face and shoulders. His mother glanced in his direction once, her eyes quickly scanning her son for any hint of injury, before hurrying off after where the guards had carried his father. Despite their flaws, his parents were very much devoted to one another, and he knew then that his mother would not be parted from his father this night. Without a second thought, he followed after his mother, hoping that the array of doctors would be able to assist and prevent his father's passing. He was not prepared for that.
Upstairs, he briefly saw his wife's ladies maid. She was hurrying towards her chamber with an armful of fresh towels. Above all else he hoped that she would be alright, and that the child she carried would not be compromised by tonight's events. He would see to it that she rested, and he would join her later to ensure that she had some semblance of sleep. His wife always rested better when they were not parted. He held the idea of his wife's comforting embrace in his mind and carried it with him as he made the final stretch of the journey towards his father's chamber. All the while, attempting to mentally prepare himself for the task at hand. He knew he could do very little in aiding his father's recovery, but he was expected to be present should anything occur and he wished to be there also. His father was injured and he needed to be with his parents. Before he could reach his father's chamber, he took notice of his sister. She stood at the door of her schoolroom, her governess was attempting to usher her inside, but she was being particularly stubborn in her insistence. There was little time for him to intervene, but it would not do to allow his sister to witness anything more than she likely already had.
"What's happened?" She asked, upon noticing her brother's hesitation. Tears were beginning to gather at the corners of her eyes. She was on the brink of losing all control. She was not as practiced at maintaining her emotions as his wife and mother were. She would learn, but at that moment her emotions were as plain as day. She was but fourteen, he did not expect much less than this from his sister.
"Father is hurt, but he shall be fine." He lied effortlessly. He had no knowledge of his father's current condition, but it would simply not do to cause his young sister further upset. "If you wish to help, dear sister, I suggest you busy yourself and stay inside this room unless I send for you."
His sister was displeased by her older brother's words, but she did as she was bid wordlessly and returned into the safety of her schoolroom. He was very pleased by her decision and once the door had closed behind her, he began once again towards where his father waited. He had walked this hall many times, but never had his gait and posture portrayed such a sorrowful countenance. His Royal Highness found himself lingering outside the door, listening for a moment to the commotion that was unfolding within his father's chamber. He forced himself to move after a moment and entered his father's bedroom. Upon entry, he studied all that was happening around him. The doctor that had accompanied his parents from the theatre worked tireless on his father's wound. It was not large, but it appeared to be deep given the amount of blood that coated his shirt and frockcoat. His mother lingered at his father's bedside, her hand firmly grasping his throughout the ordeal of removing the bullet that was still lodged within his father's chest. She would not move despite the doctors continued insistence, for all she wished to help, his mother could potentially be hindering the doctor's progress. Edward knew what he must do then, he went to his mother and reached for her hand.
"No, I shant leave him," she stated upon noticing her son's offered hand.
"Mother, you must," he told her honestly, "let the doctors do their work."
His father was barely conscious and he could gain no comfort from having his mother beside him. She must have noted this herself since she moved at his insistence. Her movements were reluctant and it was with great effort that she allowed her son to assist her in moving from his side. He assured her that this was temporary and that they would not leave the room.
"I could not leave if I tried," she informed him in reply to his assurances. He settled his mother into a chair on the opposite side of the room and took a protective stance on her right side. Together they watched the events unfold. The doctor did all could, he stitched and dressed the wound, but his face was grim as he delivered his prognoses.
"I have done all I can," he stated, the grim expression lingered as he explained the extent of the injury, "The bullet appears to have punctured a vital blood supply, it has caused an internal bled that cannot be stopped. It is slow bled, but I am afraid that it will likely prove fatal. I am very sorry, but it is unlikely that he shall recover from this."
The words caused his mother to sob without restraint, it was perhaps the only time that he had witnessed his mother cry. His mother was incapacitated with her grief and so it was up to him to handle what remained.
"How long?" he asked simply, hoping they could all at least say goodbye to their father. He thought of Jasper then, would his brother be permitted to say his farewells? And if so, would he have the necessary time to travel from wherever he had lived this last year? Questions nearly overtook his mind then, but he could not allow them to do so.
"I am not sure," the doctor replied honestly, appearing to mull over a prediction, "a few hours, maybe less. I am very sorry, Your Highness. Your Majesty."
He departed then, and they were left alone. The moment the doctor had vacated his mother was back beside his father, her hand held firmly in his grasp once more.
"Why did you do it?" she pleaded, her tears falling without a care for who witnessed it. His father's tired eyes fluttered onto his mother's face. The love that shone from his gaze was enough to force Edward to avert his eyes. This conversation required privacy and he felt as if he was intruding in one of their final moments. Without hesitation, he slipped from the room. He had to grant his mother and father a chance to say goodbye.
It was with a heavy heart that he headed towards his wife's chamber. The knowledge that his father had very little time was all that propelled him and kept him from collapsing with the weight of it all. There was so much that needed to happen and so little time to achieve it. He did not knock or grant any such curtesy to his wife in that moment, there was not time for such things. She was cleaned of his father's blood and re-dressed into a clean simple dark green frock. The sight of her almost caused him to break down, but he remained in control, barely.
"What has happened?" she enquired, at the sight of his expression. He could only imagine how he appeared through her eyes. He felt the sting of tears at his eyes, but did not allow himself to shed them. It was not done.
"The doctor did all he could," he explained after a small moment of silence, "but he does not have long. I need you to contact Jasper and get him here, for all that has occurred between them, I doubt my father would wish to leave this world without all his children present."
His wife nodded and hurried from where she sat at the end of their bed towards her vanity, where a pen and paper was already posed ready to complete the task he asked of her. Her writing was a swift and inelegant prose, and ink dots decorated the page, but her letter told all that it had too. She knew that Jasper would have difficulty leaving his wife in her current state, but she hoped that he would do this for his father, despite all the wrongs that had been committed by father to son. She had hope that Jasper would not stay away, but all they could both do was pray that he would arrive in time as they passed the letter in the direction of the confidants who knew Jaspers current location. They sent the letter and its courier with a carriage, in the hopes that Jasper would be here when the time came.
Her husband was struggling, she noted, as the carriage drove off into the coming darkness. She reached a hand between them then and clasped his hand into hers. There was no time for more than a simple gesture of reassurance, however, and within minutes they were parted once again. Her husband headed back to his father's chamber, pecking her check lightly before doing so. This was the most intimacy that the situation could afford and she cherished it. She wished for nothing more than to comfort her husband as he had comforted her when she had faced a similar situation more than a year previous, but there was simply no time.
Despite the need for haste, she was forbidden to do so by her current condition, she settled for walking a steady pace as opposed to outwardly hurrying towards the nursery. Her daughter sat with her nursemaid, she clutched a small brown teddy to her person with an air of possession. Isabella wanted nothing more than to smile at her daughter when she saw her, but even that small gesture seemed impossible, given the current situation. Instead, she approached her child's nursemaid and held her arms out for Beatrice. Her nursemaid went to protest, being aware of her condition, the same as most of the staff here, but Isabella cut her off with a look.
"This is no time for your silly concerns," she told her, fiercely, "give me my daughter."
With her daughter balanced on her hip, she headed towards the Princess Rosalie's schoolroom. Her husband had told her where to find her before he'd headed back to his father. The Princess spent most of her days hauled up inside this room, it was where she was being prepared for her life as a potential European Queen. Isabella had spent her childhood in a similar space, she was very glad that she did not have to do so anymore, but she was not pleased about the reason why she had to release the Princess from her schoolroom. Gently, with her free hand, she knocked on the door and entered once she was permitted to do so. The young girl rose from her chair, and at the sight of Her Royal Highness she dropped the embroidery she worked on into the chair without a second thought towards it.
"Father?" she questioned, tears already gathering in her eyes. She was not as foolish or silly as she sometimes appeared, she was nearly grown, had nearly reached the stage in her life where she could potentially marry, so it did not surprise Isabella that the girl had guessed toward the outcome of the situation with her sudden appearance. Isabella nodded mutely, and held out her free hand towards the Princess Rosalie. It was a gesture of comfort that she offered, of support and it did not surprise her when the young girl took her hand readily. Through the short walk down the hall, they mutually supported each other with their hands clasped and Beatrice chewed at her bear's ear without a care. She was far too young to comprehend what was happening around her. Isabella was relieved by her daughter's ignorance, and very glad to have her warmth and the comfort of her presence as she faced this situation. Beatrice would be too young to remember this moment in her life, but it was important that she was in attendance. It was important that her grandfather could say a final farewell.
She paused briefly at the door to His Majesty's chamber. She had never been permitted entry to this part of the house, she had never before had a need to do so. She wished that she did not have a need for it now, she wished they could walk away, that this evening had never occurred. But it had, and their presence was needed inside. She focused her mind and regained composure, before raising a hand to knock softly on the wood. The door opened and her husband frowned at the sight of his wife carrying their child. He could scold her later, she thought as she entered the room.
The very atmosphere was solemn with the expectation of farewell. This gathering of people had done so to say goodbye to the head of their household, and it was obvious that this was the nature of their congregation. Her Majesty was crying silently, but held back her tears as her daughter, daughter in law and granddaughter arrived. She held out her arms for Rosalie and the young Princess obliged, hurrying over to her mother and huddling into her embrace to seek comfort from the unexpected circumstance that was unfolding around them.
At her husband's insistence, Isabella settled herself into a padded chair, placing her eleven month old daughter upon her lap. Once he was convinced that she was settled, her husband moved over to his father's side and they conversed. It was difficult to hear exactly what was said, but she vaguely noted the mention of Jasper. At the mention of his second born son, His Majesty simply nodded, his gaze solemn and defeated. It was clear that in his current situation, he would accept his son back into his life. His Majesty needed to make peace with his family at the very least, she just hoped beyond hope that he would arrive before it was too late.
The hours passed by slowly, the priest who had christened her daughter over ten months ago arrived during this time. Isabella did not know exactly when, she was trying not to count the minutes and the hours. Not long after the priest's arrival, Beatrice began to fuss. Isabella knew that she would need to return her daughter to the nursery. It was just before this decision that she stood and approached His Majesty. A sheen of sweat had accumulated on his brow and the colour was slowing draining from his skin. He was passing slowly, and Isabella knew that it was now or never. She needed to offer His Majesty a final chance to hold his first grandchild since he would never hold his future grandchildren and would most likely never meet the most recent addition to his family. She realised as she approached him, that it was unlikely that he even knew of Jasper's two week old son, William. She had not told him, and she was sure that Her Majesty had not. Due to the shooting, she had not been permitted the time to inform her husband of his birth. Maybe it would do no good for him to know now, she thought, surely, it would cause him more pain than was necessary for his final hours. Jasper could decide on his father's knowledge, when he arrived. She was hopeful that her brother in law would be here before it was too late. She had to hope for that.
"Would you like hold her, Your Majesty?"
He shook his head and she was not surprised by his reaction. He had always firmly believed that men had no place pandering towards their children. To her surprise, however, he reached out for Beatrice despite his refusal. He did not take her into his arms, but instead gently took hold of hand brushing the pad of his thumb across the back of her small delicate hand.
"You will be such a beautiful young woman," he told his granddaughter, with eyes only for her, "I am saddened that I will not see it with my own eyes."
Isabella felt tears sting at his goodbye, she fought hard against them for the few seconds that he held his granddaughters hand. He released her and smiled sadly up at his daughter in law, his eyes filled with gratitude for the moment she had allowed him with her. She returned his smile and as she did so, a small tear escaped her careful mask. It ran down the curve of her cheek as she moved away, and she pretended not to notice as it fell from her chin and onto the emerald fabric of her dress. She said nothing more as she exited the room in order to return her young daughter to her nursemaid. It was difficult to keep her tears at bay, but she persisted as she walked the familiar stretch of hall.
Once her daughter had been safely returned to her nurse, she headed back towards His Majesty's chamber to wait with the others. It would not be long now, she thought reluctantly, but after watching his steady decline over the passing hours, she knew her thoughts rang with truth. Her mind turned towards Mary-Alice and Jasper as she headed past the staircase on her way towards his chamber. It was only as she past that she realised why her thoughts had turned onto her brother in law, it was because they here and their voices had found their way into her subconscious.
"Alice!" she called towards them, she had not been expecting to see her here, especially not with her swaddled babe held firmly in her grasp. The younger woman smiled sadly up at her. Isabella noted the quality of their garments and how odd they both appeared to be dressed in such poor clothing. She scolded herself for taking any care towards their attire, however, and called for them both to join her.
"How is he?" Jasper asked once he reached her, all she could do was shake her head and admit what she feared.
"It won't be long now," she told her brother in law honestly. He was about to see his family for the first time in over a year, and it would be the last time he would look upon his father. There was no easy way to put things that would enable him cope or understand what was happening any better than the rest of his family, herself included. She still possessed no real understanding of what had transpired only seconds after exiting their carriage. She could not comprehend it, but it did not matter how she felt or thought, what mattered was that Jasper saw his father one last time.
Jasper took in the sight of his sister in laws condition and noted that his wife would not be able to move at a reasonable pace any more than Isabella could. He did not need to speak or say anything to aid her understanding of his intentions. There was no time for him to amble along at their hindered pace. He was a healthy young man and his father was dying, she did not begrudge him his actions as he pecked his wife on her forehead and darted off down the corridor towards where his father waited.
"You brought him with you?" Isabella enquired, the sight of the babe still causing her curiosity. She was unsure as to how safe it was to travel with a new-born, but did not wish to criticise her friend. It had been too long since she had seen her. She could not help, however, but wish that they were meeting now under better circumstances.
Alice nodded, and they kept their pace steady as she explained her reasoning. Just because they were burdened women, did not mean that they did not keep a firm pace towards where the family was gathered.
"In case His Majesty wishes to meet him," she explained.
Isabella nodded in understanding. It was very kind of Alice to do such a thing. After all that His Majesty had done to try and prevent the infant's parents from marrying, it was indeed kind that Alice and Jasper would allow his father this opportunity. Whether he was in the line of succession or otherwise, William was His Majesty's only grandson and he would likely be overjoyed at the opportunity to meet him.
Isabella rose her hand and knocked softly, once again her husband greeted her. His expression was blank and she worried after him, she worried about how much had changed in the few minutes she had spent away from this room. He looked down at her with such emotion that she reached for his hand and clutched it tightly in her own.
Alice lingered in the doorway, clearly unsure of her place in the room of full of her betters. It was difficult for her, they were all very much above her in rank, but they were also her family, reluctantly or otherwise, and her friends. She knew that they had both been invited here and yet she did not feel welcome. Until she felt His Majesty's gaze on her. Jasper knelt beside his father talking quietly to him, she could only assume that he was asking for his forgiveness and his blessing. His Majesty's mouth lifted at the sight of the babe that she carried.
"A boy?" he asked, his voice was weak and his breathing was growing shallow. Jasper smiled proudly to his father and nodded.
"Boy's need titles," he muttered, in reply to Jasper's confirmation. His gaze fell onto his eldest son and Edward understood from that look exactly what his father was suggesting. He nodded once to show he understood his father's request. They would think of a plan to fend off Spain from causing problems later since disinheriting his brother hadn't helped his father much with that particular problem anyway. Edward saw little harm that could be caused by reinstating his brother and his wife.
His father sighed then, it was a deep final sigh and the room fell silent. His mother held Rosalie in a tight embrace on her lap, where the girl cried quietly into her mother's neck. His brother held onto their father's hand wearing an expression of grief, whilst Alice still stood just inside the doorway. His wife was crying silently beside him, her hand clutching onto his was all that grounded him as the weight of the world collapsed onto his shoulders. His father's chest fell still, and his breathing ceased.
The priest had read his father his last rites within his final hour on this earth, and now he watched for a moment before confirming what they all knew. He turned towards His Royal Highness expectantly. Edward was well into his twentieth year on this earth, and yet he was unprepared for this. He was not prepared for the words he was about to hear. He was not prepared for everything that those words meant.
"The King is dead." The priest announced, staring straight into His Royal Highness' eyes, "Long live the King."