AUDEAMUS
Chapter 21
"Here, make yourself comfortable, father," he said as he helped him sit down. Billy Black took in the surroundings of the cave. For almost one week he had been back in Raven's Grove, getting to know the rebels of the forest, their stories, their lives. He was the oldest, and, as was expected, many looked to him for a certain amount of wisdom, however strange Billy had found it to be.
When Jacob had sent word, asking if he wanted to rejoin him in Raven's Grove, Billy had obliged. He wished to return next to his son, to his family. Cadherra was his home, the province which he so loved.
While he had yet to regain complete dominion over the use of his legs, Billy could walk around well enough with a cane at a resolute pace. Resting in Sorossa had given him back his resolve and strength. He, much like the younger men in Cullen's company, wished to save Hayes from Forster. But while many of the men there were bloodthirsty, Billy Black was levelheaded, calm, took the consequences into consideration and had an apt mind to resolve a problem as well as he could.
Many of Cullen's men had gone up to the older Mr. Black and spoken with him. He was somewhat of a legend amongst them—the first to have met Cullen and to have been saved by him. Yet, Billy had little to comment on the matter. He could only express his approval for the man who had saved his life.
"Cullen will be glad to hear of your return, father," his son beamed. Jacob had told his father all about their investigations, about the strange deaths of Mr. Ridge and Miss Haste. "We must speak with him of what Miss Swan revealed to me in St. Nicholas."
"You must all be wary of who you pull into this matter. Involving Miss Swan is dangerous, my son," he whispered to Jacob.
Jacob wrung his hands as he pushed the burning embers of the fire, putting a fresh log into the flames. It was starting to get dark outside, but the days grew longer and the nights warmer as spring approached.
"She realizes it as well. Bella has decided to distance herself from this for the moment being, she fears for her family, but I think it is difficult for her. I can understand her, Ridge was a closer friend to her than anyone, and I believe she partly did all of this for him," he sighed.
He had not yet opened the envelope they had retrieved in St. Nicholas, feeling it was up to Cullen to read into its contents—for it was Cullen who had started it all. The same evening Jacob had returned from the conversation in the church, he had hoped for the masked man to be at camp, yet he was not. Days had passed by where Bella had not rung the bells of the church or Cullen had visited them.
"She is a determined young lady, if I ever saw one," Billy chuckled. "I believe she has you all trailing after her like obedient little dogs." His own remark caused another chuckle to erupt from some nearby men. They all sat around the big fire by the mouth of the cave. At the back of the large cave, some men were preparing the evening's supper. If the weather kept getting warmer, Jacob hoped they might place a small outpost further southwest, to keep a closer eye on Hayes.
"Not all of us," Jacob muttered. He was certain Cullen was the only one who could handle Isabella Swan.
Billy tilted his head to the side. "Are you certain?" When his son remained silent, it caused a ghost of a smirk to curl on Billy's lips, but he did not ponder more on the subject.
Jacob pressed his lips together just as Jonah came up to them. "Benjamin and Timmy came back from the patrol. They say the tree-line is clear. The soldiers seem to be within the walls of Hayes today," he said.
The smiles washed away from Jonah and Jacob's faces. "That cannot be good news," Jacob muttered. "But we have not heard anything from Nathan, have we?"
"Nothing has reached them, at least not today. It is getting late. Maybe we will get some news from Hayes tomorrow. Who knows, we might get more men fleeing from Forster," Jonah sighed.
"If it continues in this fashion, Hayes will soon lose all her sons," Billy sighed. "It saddens me to see your generation suffer so, Jacob," he lamented. Around the fire came more men who settled down to listen to Billy Black speak. He nodded to them as the flickering flames cast grotesque shadows across his features. "It saddens me to see that a man like Forster has been allowed to get so far," he told them.
"Do you suppose, Mr. Black, that we will one day be able to return home?" one of the younger men by the fire asked him. "To our families?" Billy looked at him, at the face of youth and was brought back to his younger years, reminded of the bliss they'd held for him. They all hung onto whatever answer he was to give them.
Billy sighed, gripping his cane. Cullen was good at keeping morale up, that much he had noticed. But he too wondered what the masked man had planned after they supposedly took down Forster. He must surely know their small rebellion against authority might have consequences.
"We shall see," he smiled faintly. But it was not an adequate answer. Jacob looked at the ground upon which they sat. He did not have high expectations of ever being able to form part of normal society again. He, like some others there, guessed there was little to turn back to. The authorities in Safeira might brand them traitors to the crown, regardless of their reasons for speaking up against Forster and his tyranny. It was most likely the reason for Cullen wearing his mask.
"We may have to sacrifice our homes and being able to be with our families for some time," the older man continued when he noted the subdued faces of those sitting by the fire. "But we are setting standards, we are standing up for what will believe in." He looked at his son. "We do this so that our children might have a better future to live in; to not be overtaxed, to not starve, to have a right to speak. I am an old man," he said. "I have little left to lose, which is why your presence here is what I find so admirable. And the man who has brought us together I find equally admirable." He did not mention Cullen hiding his face. Billy was no fool, he was certain the man had his reason—he probably stood more to lose than the rest of them combined.
Someone had been passing mugs of mead around the fire and they sat silently, digesting the grand words that had just been spoken. Jonah rose his cup toward the roof of the cave in silent solidarity with Billy Black's words of wisdom. "Audeamus," he said.
They all rose their cups and spoke the word which united them; brought them together—comforted them. "Audeamus."
The mead was soon drunk, and a comfortable stillness settled as the eve went on. After supper, Billy chose to sit by the opening of the cave and watch the stars. He knew someone kept watch over him from the shadows, knew the piercing eyes and the sense of unease they might provoke.
"How long have you been here?" Billy asked, sipping on some more mead. He did not turn to face the man who stepped up to him. Cullen had not seen Billy in months. He remembered the state he had been in when he'd saved him from Forster; the blood, the broken bones. But it seemed the old man's spirit had yet to be broken.
"Long enough to hear you speak," Cullen said, sitting down next to him, his one knee up and the other leg extended. "Long enough to hear you inspire them."
Billy took another sip, still in deep contemplation of the star formations high up above. "We do what we can, sir. Right now, they need such words of comfort."
He saw the masked man clasp his gloved hands before him, resting over his knee. The shrouded eyes followed Billy's gaze until he also looked upward. "If all ends well, Mr. Black, and you are able to return to Hayes, what will you do?" Cullen asked him.
"Oh, I don't know," the older man chuckled. "I have been waiting for grandchildren for quite some time," he smiled. It made the corners of Cullen's lips tug faintly upward.
"Would you not wish to make a change?"
"We are making a change, right now," Billy said.
"In a sense, I guess. But when Forster and God knows who else are unmasked, I suspect things could return back to how they used to be."
The black orbs broke free from their contemplation of the sky. He turned to look at the man in black, sitting down by Billy's left side, leaning his back against a big boulder. "Things will not return to as they were. You have awakened something in us Angloans, sir. We finally have a voice and we will be heard."
"Of that, I have no doubt, Mr. Black," the young man nodded in agreement. "You do have a voice, a voice to do good, to inflict some level of change in society. There are more ways than one to fight corruption. Brute force will not always be the answer. Men like me do not always offer a long-term solution," he whispered.
Both settled back, having grown pensive. The pleasantness of their conversation had a foreboding tension hanging over it. Cullen was looking much further into the future than Billy suspected. But what he said was right. He had put on the mask and taken drastic actions against a tyrant like Forster. However, he knew that a man in a mask could not remain behind and hope to solve whatever problems might remain after Forster was beaten.
Billy Black chuckled. "Indeed, I could not see you as either a soldier of the Royal Guard or a politician."
Cullen, in turn, joined in on the laughter. "Had circumstances been different, maybe I might have ended up either one of those things, had my situation permitted me." He was careful not to give away too much about himself.
Billy finished the mead. "We are where we are, Mr. Cullen. We can only make the best of our situation," he smiled. "I believe my son has been expecting your return as he spoke with Miss Swan a few days ago."
The man in black rose to stand but caught the severe expression upon Billy's features.
"Have a care, sir, with that girl. I do not wish to see her too involved in this dangerous affair," he cautioned him.
The other bowed his head. "I would never let anything happen to her. I give you my word, Mr. Black." It was a short and simple sentence, yet it held such conviction and sincerity that Billy Black was entirely certain Cullen would do all in his power to keep his word. Billy saw him head back into the cave.
"Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan," he whispered to himself and shook his head. Such a pairing would only bring about tragedy if history was bound to repeat itself, he thought.
Jacob was preparing for the night. Most of the men had settled down and the great fires of the largest cave had all started fading into dying embers. He had seen whom his father had been speaking with for some time. He let them have their conversation, hoping he would catch a moment of the outlaw's attention once he was done.
He placed the blanket to keep further away from the hot embers, lest he burned himself during the night. Soon snoring was heard and Jacob thought Cullen might have returned when he suddenly heard the steps and saw his pitch-black outline stick out like a sore thumb. When Cullen wished to be seen, not even a blind man would miss him.
He came to stand before the kneeling Jacob as he had adjusted the blankets. "I should like a word, Jacob," he whispered to the other man, waiting for the other to silently place down his pillow and rise, walking with him to the mouth of the cave where Cullen had previously been with his father.
"Sir?" Jacob said once they were far enough from the cave to hold a private conversation. He could sense the presence of a horse, no doubt the masked man was making ready to leave once they had spoken.
"I have some inquiries about your conversation with a certain spirited young lady," he blinked.
The milder March weather was not quite as chilling as the winter winds. Raven's Grove sighed as branches and bushes shifted in the faint winds. Somewhere they heard the hooting of an owl. "Did she say if she found anything, or if she knows if Mr. Ridge might have hidden away some information regarding Forster?"
Jacob wrung his hands, pushing back the long hair which had fallen into his face. "Oh, indeed she did. Mr. Ridge left behind a rather thick envelope that had been stored in Friar Blackwood's very office," he scoffed with an undertone of amusement. "I have it in my possession."
Cullen's eyes widened. "You mean to tell me Friar Blackwood was in Mr. Ridge's trust?"
"I was as surprised as you. But really, should we be? The whole lot in St. Nicholas are indeed strange…not really your typical men of the cloth, don't you think?" Jacob chuckled. "Friar Blackwood gives Nathan and Marcus free reins to do as they please. While Nathan has more the appearance of a brute, Marcus sulks and keeps away in his gardens."
"Aye," Cullen agreed. "The words Miss Haste had spoken to her: two birds and a saint. I could not be certain of them, and I didn't want to act before she returned."
That was Bella Swan's brilliance. Cullen had told him the words as well, and he had speculated over them for three months. Yet she had been the one to figure it out. He understood why Mr. Ridge and Miss Haste had chosen to confide in Bella. "Two birds and a saint: Swan, The Laughing Goose and St. Nicholas," Jacob filled in.
"Brilliant," Cullen breathed. He leaned against the thick stem of an ash tree and looked pensive. "And where is this envelope from St. Nicholas?"
Jacob nodded hastily and went to retrieve it. He snuck about in the darkness, finding his belongings and digging in his satchel. There it was, still as crisp and pristine as when he had gotten it. Jacob returned and pressed it into Cullen's awaiting hands. "Bella said she'd try to speak with Little Lucy and get her to hand Ridge's evidence over to her," he said.
Cullen looked at the heavy envelope, felt its weight in his hand and almost snorted. "That'll be the day. Miss Swan sure does speak her mind—but if anything, I can see who influences her in that department. Yet, I wonder if she will coax Mrs. Berg into telling her anything."
"We must not lose hope in our dear Isabella," Jacob argued.
"What about the final piece of information? Mr. Ridge must have handed her something right before passing, why would Miss Haste have mentioned her household or her family name otherwise?" Wouldn't she have told him? He did not think her so insincere as to lie. Bella Swan was an open book, and she was not a false sort of person, indeed not when so much was at stake.
"She said he never left anything for her or at her house. She said she grew suspicious that maybe he had decided not to include her in this affair once he realized how dangerous it truly was. She believes he most likely switched households or family. Bella didn't know where in Hayes Mr. Ridge might have turned to until she spoke with Friar Blackwood while retrieving the envelope. Now that I look at it, it makes a lot of sense."
"What does?" Cullen urged.
"That Mr. Ridge should have confided in Lord Masen, of course. He was the one who invited Judge Johnson from Safeira and tried to help father and me after all."
"Lord Masen?" Cullen exclaimed. "Carlisle Masen?"
"The very same. I told her I would relay this to you as she did not think herself capable in breaching this subject with him."
"And well that she should not. She should not even mention her connection to Ridge or us in this matter," he said, absentmindedly stroking his chin.
"Do you believe Lord Masen would take kinder to you, Cullen?" Jacob asked. "Forgive my saying this, but would it not be strange if he blindly trusted in you?"
Cullen was still staring absentmindedly ahead, as if in deep thought. "He would be a fool if he did. I shall have to borrow Ridge's evidence. I think I might be able to retrieve it."
"And how will you know what it is?" Jacob asked. "If you don't mind my saying so, but this is a very fragile plan we are concocting here," he argued.
"I will know it when I see it," Cullen shrugged casually. His laidback approach would not calm Jacob's nerves. A gloved hand came to rest on the other's shoulder. "Come now, Jacob, you must learn to relax," he smiled. "Let me worry about Carlisle Masen. Everything has thus far worked in our favor, has it not?" he blinked.
"I am uneasy in letting you simply waltz into his office and then just walk out with whatever it is you will be looking for. Friar Nathan has confided in me that Emmett McCarty is speculating about you based on your fighting style and he boasts that he will unmask you."
Cullen's eyes glistened. "I do have it on good authority that Mr. McCarty has been nosing around about me—like the rest of Hayes. But I shall not be drawn in by this information, of course." Jacob still looked tense. "Indeed, Jacob, I will not simply waltz into Masen's townhouse. I am not a complete fool," Cullen promised him. "You worry like an old wife at times, do you know that?" the masked man said amusedly, giving him a playful clap on the cheek and flashing a charming smile as he turned to his horse. It signaled the end of their conversation. It was evident that the masked man knew what his mission now was.
"Well, someone has to!" Jacob exclaimed, flaring his nostrils as Cullen rode away.
Carlisle studied the left-hand corner of the opened ledger intently while murmuring to himself. He was going over his household's finances for the month, making sure that everything was in place. The small golden clock ticked in the corner. Behind him, the big windows that opened directly to the street let in the morning sunlight, a beautiful backdrop to his silent contemplation. He had spread out his notes and ledgers over the grand desk and kept the quill in his right hand as he absentmindedly drummed the inked tip on a torn piece of paper.
A faint knock sounded and before Carlisle could react, the doors opened as his son, Edward, waltzed into his office in his usual arrogant way.
"Good morning, father dear," Edward drawled. Carlisle looked up and then buried his nose once more in the paperwork, not noting how his son's eyes darted about the room.
"Mmm, yes. Morning, son," he mumbled as he scratched something on the paper.
Edward strolled about the room. "Lovely day," he said.
Carlisle paid little heed as his son encircled the room, stopping by the window and looking down at the street as if in deep assessment.
"I am not lending you more money, Edward," Carlisle said, dipping the tip of the quill in ink and writing down some more numbers as he wrinkled his nose.
"Then, how am I to have new clothes tailored?" his son drawled in his irritatingly thin voice.
"Since your arrival from England, I have never seen you wear the same thing twice Edward," Carlisle muttered.
"Yes, because fashion is ever-changing, father! And if there is one thing I am decidedly good at, it is fashion," Edward claimed with little passion.
"You will have to make do with the wardrobe you have. You spend more money on clothes than both your sisters combined, Edward." Carlisle put down the quill as he looked up and turned around with a frown. "It quite alarms me." Edward had been peering over his father's shoulder, staring at the ledgers.
"Yes, yes, but it is a special occasion," Edward urged, eyeing the desk.
"What could be so special that—"
"Why courtship, of course," his son stated matter-of-factly as he rolled his eyes. "It amazes me that you have not yet even hinted I should find me a wife, father."
Carlisle couldn't help as a condescending laugh etched its way up his throat. "Who, pray, would you be courting? I thought you had settled on the Stanley girl," he said.
His son had his hands clasped behind his slouched back and turned to face his father with a rather irritated and impatient expression on his face. "Why, of course I could not marry Miss Stanley, she would never handle Safeira," he argued. "Besides, whatever impression she might give away, that woman is a more devout Christian than she appears. I cannot have a wife that spends all her days going to St. Nicholas. Indeed, how tedious," he drawled.
Edward turned to walk back to the front of the desk, sitting in the chair that was placed before it. He brought out a crimson fan, fanning himself despite it being the very start of spring. "Terribly hot fire you have going," he said with an indifferent—almost bored—expression.
Carlisle leaned forward, now grown curious. "Who, pray, is worthy enough to be courted by my son?" he encouraged with a hint of sarcasm that Edward appeared to not have perceived.
"While I believe that the only woman tolerable in this excuse for a town might not be all the rage in London or Safeira, she will suit me very well here. Indeed, I do not think I could do much better than Miss Swan," he said, fanning himself as he leaned back in the chair. "Come now father, and let me know that I have your approval, a refusal would crush me." However, Edward looked to be in such a dispassionate state that a refusal was the last thing on his mind. He looked bored, irritated by the exertion of having walked the extra set of stairs to his father's office.
Carlisle sneered, not able to turn from his son. "I quite admire Miss Swan. Say what you will for the impertinence her father might show at times, but they are a good family. She is too fine a woman for you—too much of a woman, I'd say." The father grew sad then, for he would have liked to have Isabella Swan as his daughter in law very much. "I cannot endorse such a courting when I know the match would not be suitable." Theirs was a wealthy family, as was the Swan family. They were among the few who could allow them the comfort of choice.
"You object to the girl?"
"Indeed not, I object to the man," Carlisle spat, getting up. "And what is this sudden interest in Miss Swan? Will you come to me again for more money to spend on new attire once you tire of her, Edward?" Carlisle came to stand before his son. "It is also known she is currently being courted by Collins, despite his rather lacking character. An engagement is to be expected at any moment."
"Indeed, I am a sporting man. Collins has not yet asked for her hand from what I understand. And I will not grow bored with—"
"That will be all," Carlisle muttered abruptly.
Slightly baffled, but mostly frowning, Edward was about to protest, his eyes once more flicking about the room.
"That will be all, Edward. You may go," Carlisle ordered. He had no wish for his son to remain in his office any longer.
The fop rose his nose in the air and let out a sound of indignation. He would not return to the office, for he knew Carlisle kept it under secure lock and key when he was not in there. Edward turned around and shut the door hard behind him.
"It has not escaped my attention that you go more often to St. Nicholas than you did before," Alice said as she looked up ahead. "Well, you and Miss Stanley. I hear she rides over there almost daily now," the young woman tsked. "I had no idea she was such a devotee."
They had just been at Jessica Stanley's tea gathering and both women sat with irritating headaches. The fresh air already did them good. For the first time in weeks, the sun had deemed it pertinent to show itself. Bella sensed it as well as Alice; the promise of spring, the knowledge that she would be able to escape to Raven's Grove soon again.
"I find Friar Blackwood and Nathan to be interesting company," Bella answered, not meeting Alice's gaze. "They certainly offer more stimulating conversation than Miss Stanley might," she chuckled.
"I wonder, Bella if you might join us for dinner next week?" her friend asked. She seemed to have been wanting to ask that question for quite some time. Bella understood it was out of the ordinary if it was only she who was invited and not her parents.
"I shall be much obliged." She turned to face her friend. "Do you suppose all of your family will be there?" she wondered. She had no wish to sit under the scrutiny of Rosalie McCarty.
"Rosalie and her husband Emmett will be at the Stanley's," Alice blinked. "But…my brother will be there. Does that inconvenience you?" she asked, leaning forward and placing a friendly hand on her arm in the vis-à-vis carriage. "For I could make some excuse for him not to be there—"
The young brunette shook her head with a faint smile. "It will not vex me to have him there, Alice. I find him quite tolerable in smaller gatherings," she admitted. "And our promenades we had before going to Zafra has given me a better understanding of him."
"Then you do not object to him?"
Bella arched an eyebrow. "I said I found him tolerable enough—during those moments he puts in the effort to be. I did not say I should like to spend every waking hour with him," she chuckled. Alice pressed her lips together before letting a sad laugh escape her as well.
"Oh, Bella, I feel that he becomes so much better when he is by your side—not as vexing," her friend admitted with a blush. "He becomes the sort of man he used to be before. It is as if you wash away some of the silliness in him."
Gloved hands clasped in her lap as Bella blushed at the obvious compliment. She played slightly with the chestnut lock resting across her right shoulder. "Come, come, Alice," she mumbled. "You exaggerate."
"Indeed, I do not!" Alice exclaimed, straightening up. They were passing by the garrison and the carriage stopped, for Bella had expressed a need to visit Lucy at her tavern. "Edward…as you know, was so changed when he returned. But," her golden orbs trailed to look into the horizon longingly. "Watching him so concerned for you when you took that fall…" she trailed off. "It gives me hope that he might be redeemed," she admitted.
"Alice…while I can find your brother's company tolerable and even interesting at times, I must still make it clear that I am being courted by Major Collins, and that my acquaintance with Mr. Masen is entirely a friendly one. We have not arrived at any sort of understanding," she warned. "And I do not think we ever will." It crushed her to see Alice so broken down from it. But Bella understood. Alice wanted both their happiness and she would never force her friend to be courted by her brother.
"I should have liked for us to have been sisters," Alice admitted with some hint of shame on her features.
Bella took her hands in her own. "We are sisters, Alice! Maybe not bound by blood or marriage, but by understanding," she smiled. "Do you suppose that could be enough?" she wondered.
Alice squeezed her hands. "I do," she nodded.
"Good!" Bella smiled, settling back and gathering her skirts. They had reached The Laughing Goose. "For I am off to see Lucy!" she blinked just as the footman opened the carriage door. She was helped to step down as she gathered the masses of the dark blue skirt of her dress. Bella stepped back and watched her friend still sitting in the carriage.
"I will send a servant with the time for the dinner then," Alice said from atop the carriage. Bella gave her a nod of the head and Alice was off. She stood on the side of the road for a short while, watching the carriage disappear. Had Edward Masen been more agreeable, she might have spurred Alice's wishes. There were times where she doubted, truly, questioned her own feelings. But they were fleeting, there and gone in a heartbeat.
Bella could never marry such a fool.
She turned around and walked into The Laughing Goose, met by the stillness of an early afternoon. The midday meal had been eaten and supper was still hours away. The only people present in the tavern were those who came for a drink, cards, the warm fireplace or music.
"Miss Swan!" came the burly and jovial tones of Lucy Berg, as always, glued to her bar. Indeed, the quintessential picture Bella held of her beloved tavern could never be complete lest Lucy stood behind the bar. She strolled up to her while removing her hat.
"Mrs. Berg," she blinked, causing Lucy to firmly shake her head.
"Again, what've I told ya about that Mrs. Berg shit?" she burled while serving a glass of juice for her friend.
"That I should refer from such remarks, madam," the younger woman blinked, taking a sip of the sweet liquid. "And also, in the same line, stop trying to make an honest woman out of you," she laughed.
"There is me girl!" Lucy boomed proudly. "And tell me, Miss Swan, why have I not seen ya frequent my establishment more often?"
"Lucy, dear, I fell from my horse and nearly broke my shoulder," Bella answered.
"Aye but that shouldn't have stopped ya," Lucy joked. "I thought ya were tougher than that."
"Nothing quite lifts the spirit like hearing your encouragement, Lucy," the young woman said.
"Aye, but ya ain't here for that," the other stated matter-of-factly. How well she knew Bella Swan, that she could see through her as quickly as she walked through the door.
A shadow settled across Bella's features. "Indeed, I would speak with you, Lucy."
"We're speakin' now, miss."
"Alone, undisturbed." Bella leaned forward. "Away from prying eyes and strained ears."
Much like last time Bella had asked to speak with Lucy alone, the older woman got a severe look etched upon her features and threw down the rag. "Ted!" she shouted, a middle-aged man coming running from the back.
"Yeah, Lucy?" he asked her short of breath as he scratched his bald head.
"Take care of the front while I've a word with the little lady here," Lucy commanded before urging Bella to step behind the counter with her.
Ted nodded and went behind the bar, a gleeful smile curling upon his lips as he was temporarily promoted to barman—a most glamorous position in his eyes.
Bella picked up her skirts and followed behind Lucy, once more walking to her small quarters at the back of the tavern. It stood as it had last time, almost untouched by time, the only difference was that sunlight now peered through the window but did little in lightening up the place. The glass of the small window was dirty, probably having accumulated years' worth of filth and never been cleaned. The sunbeams which filtered through came out faint, as if in a haze or a fog.
"Things are never good, miss if ya be askin' to speak alone," Lucy muttered as she closed the door behind them.
Bella had no idea why she was so nervous, yet she grew jumpy. A part of her suspected Lucy would never reveal having been within Ridge's confidence.
"It is about Mr. Ridge—" she began but was promptly cut off by Lucy as she threw her hands high up in the air and gave out a snort of frustration.
"Not this again, Miss Swan!" she exclaimed as her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled slightly. "I've told ya before and I'll tell ya again, I'll not have anythin' to do with this."
"But Lucy!" Bella argued. "Lucy this is important! It is about what Lucas Ridge brought to you."
She had never seen Lucy Berg grow pale before. Maybe such a scene might have been witnessed the night Cullen had humiliated Forster in The Laughing Goose. Yes, Lucy must have been white as a ghost then. But Bella had never expected that a short sentence should have thrown her off as it did.
"I know Lucas came to you with something—something important, something he knew Forster would come for as well. Because as surely as I know he confided in you, I also know he was killed to be silenced. Because I suspect the trial of Jacob and Billy Black was not only to free those men, but to bring down Forster." She had blurted out the words, for fear that Lucy would stop her were she to hesitate. Bella licked her lips in anticipation. There was little else she could say or go on. Cullen now most likely knew the contents of the envelope, and she suspected he would not share them with her. She knew she had promised to remain outside the affair, but she needed to do this final thing.
"Oh now, girl, ya've surely gone too far this time." There was a hint of fear in Lucy's voice. But it was not fear for herself, but for the woman before her.
Bella ignored her remark. "Let me take the burden off your shoulders. You know Mr. Ridge trusted in me as well. I am determined that his findings shall see the light of day, whatever they may be."
"Isabella," Lucy sighed. "Please do not involve yerself in this matter—"
"I am already too far involved to turn back now. You know I cannot let this go, Lucy." When Lucy regarded her with an air of resignation, Bella kept speaking in her own defense. "I am taking precautions, I am not jumping into this and putting my own family at risk. You cannot surely think me that stupid."
"But doin' this alone, it will surely—"
"I never said I would tackle this by myself," she answered flustered. Bella was certain more questions would stem from such an answer. Yet, Bella knew she could never give away who she was really helping. "Jacob Black is the one who…who has taken this upon himself." It wasn't an entire lie, but she had withheld some of the truth and it bore down on her.
"Jacob Black?" Lucy pondered. Her hands came to rest upon her waist as she started pacing about the room. "Really now, Jacob Black?" she said to herself.
"If whatever Lucas left behind for you could be passed on to Jacob, I could—"
Yet, Lucy interrupted her once more, still left behind on the name she had been given. "Tell me, is that the same Jacob who fled to Raven's Grove?"
"You know it to be him." A notion of hope spread in Bella's chest for it seemed to her that Lucy was finally being persuaded.
"Same Jacob who is in league with Cullen, as the rumors say?"
"That I cannot answer," she said quickly.
Lucy's forehead wrinkled together as an irritated expression emerged. "Tell me now that if I gave ya the ledgers and accounts, would they come to Cullen?"
"I—that I cannot say, Lucy. I get no such information from Jacob and I most assuredly have no such lowly associations as to keep connections with an outlaw!" she blurted out, flustered.
Yet, it seemed the tavern owner, from years of having dealt with lying drunkards and all kinds of questionable characters did indeed see through Bella's façade. "Aye, so ya say. But I will let ya know now, Miss Swan, that if these ledgers and accounts that I hold do not come to Cullen, I won't give them to ya even if ya were the queen of Angloa herself!"
Bella ignored for a moment that Lucy had mentioned the evidence as being accounts and ledgers and stepped in closer. "Why would you wish this to get to Cullen?" she asked.
"Why?!" the stout tall woman almost shouted. "I'll tell ya why," she said passionately. "I saw that man, devil, whatever ya please to call him—I saw him take on Forster and humiliate him in such a way that it has kept me sleepin' like a baby ever since!" she exclaimed with her hands flying violently in the air. "Nothin' has given me more pleasure than seein' Forster treated in such a way. And I know that if Cullen were to hold this information, he would surely use it to take down that blackguard who dares call himself a gentleman and a captain!"
"I—I heard he was here in the tavern, but I had no idea he went through so much trouble to humiliate Forster," Bella mumbled.
"Oh, Miss Swan, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven when I saw Forster gettin' his nose bloodied by that man and wet his pants, scared half to death. And what a gentleman that Cullen was, for he even left behind some coins fer me to fix up the place after he and the captain had had their squabble."
"Well, I have never associated with that man, but maybe Jacob could come here and take those ledgers?" she asked. "Maybe he does know Cullen and could pass them on?"
Lucy shook her head. "I'll only give these ledgers to one man—the man who showed me he'd use them well: to Cullen. You can have your friend Mr. Black pass that message along now," she stated. Bella grew wary. She trusted in Lucy but did not know if Cullen did. What if he never came, fearing it to be a trap?
"Do you not trust me?" she asked, almost hurt.
Lucy chuckled in a motherly way and went over to Bella. "I'd trust ya with my life, Miss Swan. But I'll not hand these things over to ya, because I care so fer yer safety," she said with her hands placed atop Bella's shoulders.
Bella nodded faintly. She'd have to return to St. Nicholas yet again and relay the message. "If I cannot persuade you…" she trailed off with a rather defeated look resting upon her features.
"Leave it to the madmen to take on each other. Ya've already been in the thick of it, ya said so yerself—ya almost broke yer shoulder," Lucy stated.
And there it was, Lucy's clever way of using her previously spoken words against her. "Touché," Bella murmured as they started heading back to the front before Ted got too carried away with illusions of grandeur and staged a mutiny at The Laughing Goose.
"Mama speaks of nothing else. And I have been worried sick about you since I was told as well!" Bella said as they sat down in the gardens. Collins pushed a stray lock out of his eyes and sighed.
"I am fine, really, Miss Swan."
She looked at him for a long time. They kept mostly to the Swan estate these days. Collins wouldn't take another chance and escort her outside of the walls or take her about town for the scrutiny they'd receive. He had just won her over and she had decided to stay by his side, despite the nasty gossip surrounding him. He knew that taking Forster side made him look villainous and he wished for nothing more than to turn away from the corrupted captain and throw him in jail. But, alas, Collins had grown used to his lifestyle and rank. He could not bear to lose it, along with losing Bella as well.
He looked at her, the way the beams caressed her pale skin. He found her beautiful, very beautiful. While their conversation was pleasant, he could content himself with gazing at her at every hour of the day. He knew he wished for her as a wife. When Hayes calmed down and Cullen was taken care of, he knew he'd ask for her hand.
Yet, there was one thing that bothered him. One thing that plagued his mind whenever he shut his eyes. Cullen had worried so for Bella. While the man in black was always arrogantly amused and never displayed any feelings beyond such, Bella's name had made his eyes widen and his body tense that night in his chambers.
"I know this will come from nowhere," Collins began. He swallowed hard and licked his lips in anticipation. The top buttons of his green jacket uniform were unbuttoned, letting the mild wind caress the thin material of his shirt and touch the skin underneath. He turned to her, calmly looking into her eyes. "What relation do you have with Cullen?"
If there was one thing he liked about Bella, it was her blatant honesty. The girl couldn't lie however hard she tried to, not when directly asked. She was too earnest in her countenance. The dark delicate eyebrows shot up to her hairline as the wind dragged at her chestnut locks. Her rosy cheeks faded, as did the vibrant chocolate orbs.
"I…what do you mean?" she asked, slowly.
"I wonder what relation you hold to Cullen?"
She let out a nervous laugh and turned from him. "I have no acquaintance with outlaws, James!" she exclaimed, growing flustered. "Wherever did you get such an idea?" she wondered.
Collins looked at her for a long while, pressing his lips together, his handsome features stiff, harsh lines descending upon his brow as he creased it. "Nowhere," he finally settled on. "A desperate attempt to catch him, that is all. I wondered if he might have sought you out," he lied.
Bella breathed out, glad she had managed to duck the situation. "Do you really believe he'd seek me out?" she laughed.
"Well, if he ever got to see you, I wouldn't be so surprised." His forward statement deepened the fluster on her cheeks and made her look away in embarrassment. Collins smirked.
She would not yet touch the rumors and gossip she'd heard about him. Bella had not the heart for it. She delighted in their conversation and his company. It made her feel guilty to be ignoring such an important thing. But ignore it she did, not wanting to deal with yet another problem in her life. Aye, Bella had not yet realized the anxiety she was holding back at realizing who James Collins truly was.
"You are scandalous!" she laughed at him. But deep inside, Bella's rattled heart settled down, now surely certain the danger was over. Collins could not know of her involvement with either Jacob or Cullen.
But he knew that something was off from the moment she'd answered him. Collins grew wary inside.
Bella Swan had lied to him.
With sureness in step and quick of pace, the by now famous shadow was making its way through the hallways of the Masen townhouse. The gloved hands guided him via the walls, he took care in not making too much sound with the heels of his feet, trailing along the corridors, the shrouded eyes already used to the strange darkness in which he resided.
He reached his destination, the anticipation of being caught resting heavy upon his shoulders. The vast mahogany doors that almost reached the tall ceiling stood threatening. He already knew such doors would be locked. But, already prepared, he took out two strange metal contraptions from his pockets and started picking the lock with an expert hand. Of course, absorbed by such a task, the shadow did not notice the frightened young maid slipping silently down the corridor. Her wax candle which had been high above her head mere minutes before had gone out as a gust of wind from an open window had extinguished the flame, leaving the girl in near darkness. She had come from the kitchens and was heading up to the top of the house, where the servant's quarters were.
She had never enjoyed the creaking hallways of the townhouse or the threatening shadows the dancing branches outside would cast upon the walls. It gave her nightmares, much more so in winter than during the gentler summers.
Yet, now that she walked down the long corridor, she spotted the creature of the night and stopped, the primal part of her brain commanding her to stand perfectly still. Mayhap she thought that she wouldn't be attacked by the creature if it couldn't see her move.
The maid, Nora, could but shiver as she saw the crouching figure by the locks until she heard the click of the door and saw it slink inside, slowly closing the door behind it. She, of course, knowing that the lord of the house must have just retired to bed, darted to his rooms, not caring for decorum. Carlisle Masen was a kind employer and would not object to her intrusion once she explained what she had just witnessed.
Unaware of who had just seen him, Edward Cullen rummaged around within the office. He stood up at one time, his hands on his hips, a defeated sigh escaping him. He had to commend Lord Masen in his hiding of Ridge's evidence—not that Cullen even knew where he should be looking. He had gone to the shelves lining the room, looked in the corners. Finally, the only viable place left was the massive desk, which he had already gone through.
Cullen scratched his head through the mask and sighed once more. Maybe there was a hidden compartment in the desk. He had read of such contraptions before. In one corner stood the tall clock, ticking away the seconds; its sound nerve-racking. He knew that the longer he lingered, the more likely that he would be discovered. The whole house had just retired for the night, yet he had taken a great risk in appearing so early.
He positioned himself in such a way that he was lying on his back, directly under the desk. He took off a glove and trailed his naked fingers along the wood, hoping to find a hidden enclosure of some sorts. His eyes, while still used to the darkness in that room, would do him little good. But, by going entirely by feeling, he eventually found what he was looking for and almost gave out a triumphant exclamation when he turned a knob and the latch opened, spitting out a wooden box. Cullen picked it up and opened it, finding a letter—the seal had been broken. He hastened to stand and secured the letter in his sash where he knew he wouldn't lose it.
Triumphantly, he replaced the box in its compartment and put it back in the desk. As soon as he heard it click into place, Cullen froze when hearing the whispers and faint footsteps coming from the corridor, only to end by the door, which he had not locked behind him.
"…certain he went here?" he heard Carlisle Masen's muffled voice ask someone behind the door.
"Y-yes," he heard someone else say.
Cullen looked around for a means of escape but saw that there was no other way leading him out of the room save the window.
Meanwhile, behind the door, Carlisle stood with Nora, backed by Joseph and a few servants and footmen. Joseph had made such a ruckus walking down the hallway that he thought the thief—whoever he was—would hear the loud footsteps. "Do not shoot him, only hold the pistols as a warning. I do not wish for anyone to lose their life here tonight," Carlisle urged the men. They were five in total, all carrying guns.
"Did you see if he carried any weapons?" Joseph asked Nora.
"I only saw a shadow, a semblance of a man…he didn't look human," she shivered.
"There, there," Carlisle said. "Stay back now, Miss Glover, let us take it from here."
They all made ready to burst in and catch the thief red-handed. Carlisle hoped it was jewels and riches he searched for, and not Forster who was on his trail. They felt the handle of the door; it was unlocked.
The five men all felt the adrenaline rush through their veins, they took deep breaths and squinted their eyes as Nora held a candle in each hand to illuminate the corridor.
One servant pushed the door open violently and jumped in with a drawn pistol, promptly followed by Carlisle, Joseph and the other two. As soon as they stepped in, they saw a figure disappear in the corner of the grand window, a part of it opened.
"He has escaped via the front façade!" Carlisle shouted. "To the other room!" he urged as they doubled back, hoping to catch him in the next room.
As Carlisle Masen and his entourage made for the left, Cullen pressed against the outer wall of the house's façade and smirked. Right below him, there was a wide balcony that connected to the parlor. He waited until he no longer heard the footsteps in the corridor and then promptly aimed for the balcony and stepped out into thin air, letting himself fall. With the graceful and sure footing of a cat, he landed in a crouching position, steadying himself with his hand and stood up, pressing himself once more against the wall. He held his breath, listening to hear if someone had noticed his impact on the stone of the balcony. The only thing he heard was the frustrated exclamations of Lord Masen as he realized he wouldn't find him lounging outside of the adjoining room to the office.
Cullen produced once more the pins to pick the lock of the tall French doors leading to the balcony. This lock was easier to open, and he was soon inside, making sure to lock the door behind him. He needed to be quick and thought that escaping through the garden might be the fastest and most secure way.
He made his way through the rooms with a comfortable familiarity, for he knew the place well. He saw the doors leading to the gardens through the dark sitting room and opened them. Cullen saw the wall to the street in the distance and was about to dart across when a sword came to rest across his chest.
The blood in his veins froze and never before had he stopped so abruptly in his tracks.
Emmett McCarty grinned when he first came up to Cullen who stood rooted in place, the ominous aura extending itself and greatly clashing with the otherwise peace of the night.
There was a moment where none of them knew how to react. Emmett did not gloat, nor did he dare to speak. Standing before him was the man of whom so much had been spoken. Indeed, it was the man over whom he himself had been speculating these past months. But seeing him thus, poised before him, still managing to feel threatening despite lacking any weapon in hand, Emmett had to admit that he swallowed extra hard. He could not escape the almost defying glance that pierced through his orbs. Emmett, who prided himself in his skills in combat felt, for the first time, that they might not be of use to him. And the sword, which always proved such a source of security, suddenly grew into a flimsy and useless piece of metal in his hand.
Yet, he saw in the man's stance and change in posture, that he was about to change positions. And Emmett reacted fast enough, trying to stop Cullen from whatever it was he aimed to do. He had no real quarrel with the man, but he supposed Cullen had not merely entered the Masen townhouse for some tea and a chat about the weather.
In a swift motion, Emmett slashed with his sword as Cullen jumped back. The blade managed to catch the fabric of his left arm but did not cut through to his skin. It merely sliced the textile, gaping open to reveal the tensed muscle underneath. While Emmett took time to register what had just happened, Cullen faced the inside of the parlor and saw two gleaming rapiers from the past century resting across each other decoratively on the wall. He did not flinch one instant as he reached for one of them just as McCarty approached rapidly.
What Emmett had been wishing for months, was suddenly cast upon him in a bizarre twist of fate. The young gentleman found himself in a heated duel with the masked man. Their swords flashed insanely fast in the darkness of night. Emmett had never faced such a technique. This man did not fight for sport, he fought like a battle-hardened warrior. There was a certain rush to his moves, yet so calculated that Emmett took great care in not revealing too much about himself in the way he fought.
But he could not ignore that the man in black was superb, adapting so quickly to his change of techniques that the young Mr. McCarty thought himself to be fencing a grandmaster. And then he perceived it—a reaction within his opponent that had him flabbergasted—the man in black was smiling. The display of pearly white teeth threw Emmett off. While he was sweating profusely in trying to disarm the other man, Cullen seemed to be enjoying their confrontation.
"You fight well, sir," the dark and ominous voice growled as he parried yet another block from him. "Much better than the captain!"
Emmett growled back, unaware that Jasper Hale had run out into the garden with Alice. Both stared dumbfounded at the two as they battled atop the stone platform where Emmett would usually fight Collins. He felt it in his arm, how he grew tired, yet Cullen did not show any signs of fatigue. Truly, Emmett thought, this must be the devil incarnated!
"Jasper, that's the man who broke into Wilson's estate!" Alice exclaimed with utter fear in her voice. She saw the swords dance and the men manage the blades to block, parry, and attack.
"That's Cullen!" Jasper gritted back as he ran his hands through his hair. He was lost at what to do. Jasper admired Cullen, thus he could not understand what the man in black was doing sneaking around Carlisle Masen's estate.
"W-we must do something lest he wounds Emmett!" Alice exclaimed. She turned into the parlor. "Papa!" she shouted. "Here!"
Cullen allowed a glance at their spectators. "It seems, my friend, we shall not finish this fight," he concluded after what he saw Alice Hale do.
But Emmett would have none of it. He kept putting more force into his blade, letting his emotions rule over his rationality. He no longer fought reserved and calculated. It was enough to give the other man an opening.
Carlisle, Esmeralda, and some more servants came from within the house, drawn out by Alice's cries and the clash of swords. Upon the fantastical sight, they all watched in stunned disbelief. In two hasty movements, Cullen drew Emmett's sword closer about him, circulating his blade against the other's and managing to remove it from Emmett's hand, thus disarming him.
One of the footmen aimed a pistol at Cullen in fear of what he had seen and pulled the trigger. The shot rang through the town and alerted the patrolling Royal Guard, who was just a few houses further down the street.
A/N: I am finally finished with my degree. Thank you for the encouragements during the weeks of my finals and my thesis! I will now have time to update twice a week again. Maybe even three times? :) I wish for this fic to finish before the end of summer! There are still some chapters to go.
Cheers,
Isabelle