AUDEAMUS
Chapter 22
Sgt. Thompson was immediately drawn in by the sound of fighting. Ever since his unfortunate run-in with the ghost of Cullen, Captain Forster had been sulking in his quarters, demanding that the patrols of Hayes be more extensive. He had a personal vendetta against the man who had humiliated him and scarred his face. The whole garrison felt his anger. Thompson was certain he must have dropped a dress size already from the long patrols and stress of being screamed at. Major Collins did little to intercede.
There was also the question of the reward money, now increased to five thousand crowns for the capture of Cullen, dead or alive. With such a sum, Thompson could perhaps buy The Laughing Goose. The very thought made his head soar in the clouds and his face settled in a dream-like state. Maybe Dory would be persuaded to leave the Swan mansion and come work for him.
Thus, the mild March night—when the sound of clashing swords echoed past the Masen townhouse, soon interrupted by the reverberating ricochet of a fired pistol—Thompson already knew it had to do with Cullen. He therefore madly urged his lancers to run toward it. Once more, the peaceful night of Hayes had been disturbed by violent commotion.
The footman had missed, his hand trembling slightly as he paled when two gleaming eyes scrutinized him with their regard.
Cullen heard the shouts of the soldiers and saw the whole Masen household stare at him in utter disbelief. For a split instant, his gleaming orbs collided with Carlisle Masen's. He was pale and rooted in place, not yet having processed who was in his back garden.
The man in black fully turned to face them. He gave a mocking bow and then cast down the sword, darting for the far-off wall, soon over it and disappearing into the night.
The minutes ticked by and soon the entire Royal Guard was aware that Cullen had been spotted at the Masen's. Captain Forster, who had not stepped outside into the public eye since his last unfortunate confrontation with the masked man, had vowed to kill the blackguard. He would therefore not rest until he saw him hanged. As soon as the news reached back to him and Collins, the whole garrison took to the streets and went to the area where the Masens lived, sure they would find Cullen—no one had yet seen him escape the town upon his black horse.
In the Swan mansion, they had all awoken just before midnight by the shots and shouts that had disturbed most of Hayes. Lorraine and Robert went with some other servants to inquire about the commotion that was rampant. They soon returned with such juicy gossip that Bella could only sit and gape in disbelief. She was quickly ushered into her room with Sara and told to lock the door.
"They will not catch him, miss!" Sara urged.
Bella frowned and folded her arms before her defiantly. She did it to keep from wringing her hands. "Why should I care if they catch him?" she muttered, refusing to look at her chambermaid.
Sara remained quiet but Bella perceived the faint smirk as the maid made sure the windows were all locked and secured. "Your parents will surely keep out of bed a while longer, I shall keep up in my quarters and make sure to follow any new developments. But you should get some rest, Miss Swan," Sara said in the open door. Both she and Bella knew that would not happen. "Make sure to lock the door when I leave," Sara advised before closing it behind her.
Bella settled back on her unmade bed, dwarfed by the huge number of puffy blankets that had been pulled to the side when she'd rushed up, awoken by the shots. She shook her head, the silver light of the crescent moon cascading into her room through the windows in the doors of her balcony.
Just as she had turned the key, Bella heard the knock. Faint at first, then growing.
She muttered something under her breath and turned around, finding exactly who she was expecting. There, standing on her balcony, was none other than Cullen himself. She had a mind to refuse him entry into her chamber but knew he ran a risk of getting captured. Bella tied the dark blue robe further about her body, not wishing for him to see her in her nightgown again.
She saw him smirk in the shadows as she opened the door. Bella jumped back as he took a decided step inside and closed the balcony door behind him. Both froze for a moment as they heard the Royal Guard outside, patrolling the streets, knocking on the doors.
"You went to Masen," she stated matter-of-factly, placing her hands on her hips.
"I went to Masen," he said, faintly catching his breath, slowly pacing up to her with a charming smirk.
"You were caught."
He started walking around her slowly, looking her up and down. "I never get caught, my lady."
Bella gave out a huff of frustration. "They could have caught you!" she hissed as she turned, only to find him a hair's breadth away. "They still can."
"Did you worry for my safety?" he asked. The tone he held was sincere, smooth, velvety as it brushed up against her. She stared at the full lips, at the dip in his chin, the tensed jaw, the piercing eyes. He was so close, too close. She could sense the waft of sandalwood, of pine, and the fresh fragrance of the night. She felt a hand trail up her back, almost hesitant; like he wanted to pull her closer. Bella dared to look directly into his eyes, however, they were obscured, hidden in the shadows. She only saw two gleaming orbs as they regarded her from behind the black mask.
"I—" she was about to answer him, mayhap, for the first time, an honest answer of what she really thought. Bella did worry for this man, as strange as it was to admit to herself. But a strange part of her held the belief that he was invincible, that he could best anyone. He stood before her unlike anyone she had ever met before and she couldn't explain why she could both confide in him yet be vexed by him. But her pride prevented her from saying more than she could have. "You take unnecessary risks," she settled on. Bella gritted her teeth together. "We do not need another man to fall victim to Captain Forster."
"I wouldn't call myself a victim, Miss Swan," he whispered huskily into her ear, the warm breath of his voice tickling her skin.
"Then…what would you call yourself?" she asked, mesmerized by the way he neared her, losing control over her own devices. Bella felt lured in by him, drawn in by his words, his glinting eyes, his whispers. A gloved hand came up to her face, slowly. Tenderly he cupped her chin in his hand and trailed his thumb along the jawline. She knew where his caresses were leading them, and Bella thought she might collapse as her knees started shaking. Her heartbeat had grown elevated and her eyes wide.
Yet, she did not stop him.
He might have gone further, had not the ruckus at the front of the house sent them both into a frozen stupor.
Bella recognized the baritone voice echo through the hallways of the manor. Her eyes were wide now, but because of a completely different reason. She saw, in the way he had tensed, that Cullen too recognized that voice.
"Thompson," he growled as he frowned at the locked door.
The lancers were going through the house. "Search every room, you know the drill, men!" they could hear the rotund sergeant order his men. The shuffle of boots upon the wooden floor had Bella grow pale. She turned back to Cullen in panic.
"Hide!" she ordered him in turn.
He looked around the room, not finding many places he could go. They could hear the lancers near in the hallway. "I must protest!" Charles Swan's angered tone sounded as he no doubt walked alongside the soldiers. "This is highly invasive; the mayor shall hear of this!" he shouted.
"There is nowhere to hide," Cullen gritted his teeth. He was right, the wardrobe was too small for him and there was no doubt that the lancers would be looking under the bed. Bella looked at him, wondering if she would be sent to prison or end up in the gallows for being caught with a known outlaw in her room.
Sgt. Thompson went up to the elegant mahogany doors and turned the handle. "This one is locked, Mr. Swan," he muttered, scratching his head. "Whose room is this?"
"My daughter's," Charles spat. "I will not have you brutes enter her personal chambers and scare the poor girl to death!"
Thompson wrung his hands with an apologetic look. "I understand your anger, Mr. Swan, but Captain Forster has insisted we search each house this side of town as that fellow Cullen has not been seen near any of the gates—thus he cannot yet have escaped."
Charles shook his head with a disgusted look on his face. "You lot merely wish to claim the money for his capture," he spat as he crossed his arms before his chest.
Thompson grew red as he tried to counter-argue the gentleman. "Now, Mr. Swan—"
"I will not have it!" Charles shouted.
A corporal stepped forward. "Would you rather have us and the sergeant search these rooms, or shall I call on the captain himself? I wonder how he will react if we drag him up here. He will not take kindly to it and see your interference as suspicious," the soldier said haughtily. "Now, bid your daughter to unlock this door or we shall force it in."
Charles looked from the sergeant to the corporal before turning to the door. "Bella!" he shouted while banging on the wood. They could hear the rustling of sheets and the frantic footsteps of the young woman as she was no doubt getting out of bed. The key turned in the lock and the door creaked open.
Bella Swan looked as if she'd seen a ghost once she saw the number of men outside her chambers. "What on earth is happening?" she managed to stutter. "Papa, what have you done?" she turned to him.
"Indeed, I have done nothing!" Charles exclaimed back.
"Well, then why are the Royal Guards here?" she insisted.
"We are searching for the outlaw Cullen, madam," the corporal leaned forward to explain. Bella stretched her neck and saw Sgt. Thompson winking awkwardly at her from behind the corporal. She pulled the dark blue robe tightly about her. Her lose hair was swept away from her face as her hand came up frantically.
"I house no outlaws here, gentlemen," she said with a look of indignation. "What on earth do you take me for?" she asked, disgusted. Technically it was the truth, Cullen wasn't really an outlaw.
"Oh, we meant no disrespect, Miss Swan," Sgt. Thompson began until the corporal pushed past the young woman.
"How dare you!" she shouted and then turned to her father. "Papa, how dares he?"
"How dare you manhandle my daughter thusly, sir?" Charles said fiercely. The corporal walked up to the bed, noting it looked as if she had just stepped out of it, the covers were in a bulky bundle together with a cluster of pillows over it. It was a cold room and the young woman seemed to have thrown some extra thick covers over her bed. He looked underneath the bed, finding it empty.
"Bring in the candles," he ordered. The other lancers stepped in, disregarding Bella and her father completely. Sgt. Thompson seemed to be the only one to respect Bella's boundaries and stood outside of her rooms with an ashamed look on his face. He finally managed to muster up enough courage to step inside.
"I beg your forgiveness, Mr. and Miss Swan, but I cannot disobey the direct orders of my captain," he said sheepishly by the door.
The lancers combed through the room. Bella thought her heart would give out on her. They ransacked the wardrobe, looked behind drapes and into small cabinets—anything that might suggest Cullen had been there.
Charles held his daughter in a firm embrace. "They went through mine and your mother's rooms as well, she is with Dory and the rest of the kitchen staff, hiding from these brutes," he whispered to her. The young woman could not bring herself to speak, lest her tone faltered and she gave away how truly nervous she was. She settled on a stiff nod, hoping her father would not notice her shivers.
After a while, Thompson decided they were finished. "Alright, alright, we have gone through the poor girl's rooms enough!" he barked, growing angry at the lancer's precision in going over her clothes. "There are more rooms in this house we should investigate," he growled. The lancers stepped out and, standing in the door, Thompson bowed.
"I hope you will ever come to forgive this intrusion, Miss Swan."
Bella pressed her lips together. "You may never see any more of Dory's pies in the future, sergeant, if this becomes a habit," she sneered at him as her father went to continue with the soldiers to make sure they did not manhandle his servants' quarters next.
The words seemed to completely break down the sergeant. "Oh, but miss!" he began.
"We need to keep looking, sergeant," the bossy corporal ordered. Thompson looked like a small child that had just been yelled at by his father. He nodded and the group soon continued up the corridor.
"Lock the door behind us, in case a stray lancer comes up this way. That uniform has lost its respect in my eyes, Bella. They seem to only admit brutes into the Royal Guard these days!" he shouted loud and clear so that the others might hear.
"I will bolt this door shut until the sun comes up, papa," she promised. Charles gave his daughter a kiss on her head and the rushed after Thompson.
"Wilson will surely have all your heads for this!" she could hear him exclaim at the end of the corridor.
The door to her room came shut, locked for the second time that night. She was left to stand in the silver moonlight, leaning her forehead against the cool wood. Bella remained still until she could no longer hear the lancers. Silence settled as she collected herself and walked over to the bed. Bella regarded the bundle and swiftly moved aside the blankets, finding a lounging Cullen in the middle of her bed with a satisfied smirk on his lips.
She placed both hands defiantly on her hips, flaring her nostrils and watching him with a condescending regard. "That was very close, Mr. Cullen," she reprimanded.
He settled further in her bed, placing a hand beneath his head and resting in a more comfortable position. He took in the canopy above him and the smirk grew wider. "I must say, your bed is exceptionally soft, Miss Swan," he teased, amused, and unaffected by the whole experience.
She neared the bed and him. "I think you enjoy making a habit of these nocturnal visits to my chambers," she remarked dryly. "I suggest you do not get used to my bed."
He sighed, unmoved by her remark. Rather, as always, he seemed to find her anger with him endearing. "I think you were worried about me," he blinked, moving to stand. He stretched his tall form, towering over her. The nearness and comfortable familiarity of him made her back away in a rush, blushing.
"Did you get what you wanted at Masen's?" She turned from him not to show her blushing face, but he saw it in her body language, in her shying away from him.
"I did."
"What was it?"
She could hear him reach for the sash, retrieving a letter. "I have not read it." It had been slightly wrinkled. She spotted the broken seal. Then, Carlisle Masen must have read it.
"Do you know…who truly killed Mr. Ridge?" she whispered; her eyes fixed on the envelope in his gloved hand. There was the answer she so longed to find.
Cullen was not his laid-back self anymore. A severe expression had etched its way into his stance, into the very fingers that squeezed the letter.
"Yes," he whispered.
She had promised Jacob that she would no longer involve herself in the affair. She had helped them locate where Ridge had left behind his evidence. But Bella Swan could not ignore the curiosity—the need to know who had been responsible for her friend's death.
Cullen secured the letter once more in the fold of his sash. They stood still as the lancers walked back down the hallway, moving to the next house on the street. She wrung her hands and kept her eyes cast down, deep in thought.
Their conversation had long since run its course, but Cullen had yet to move to the balcony and leave the same way he came. Something was left unsaid, and he did not know how to breach the subject. "Speak your mind, sir," she told him.
"You should give up your acquaintance with Major Collins, miss," he rasped.
"He is a good man, despite what Hayes might think. I refuse to think that he is as negligent as you would all have me believe," she said through gritted teeth. Bella stood up for Collins, for the man she knew he was.
Her words dismayed the man before her. "He is involved in this, Miss Swan—"
"He can tell me himself. I will not have everyone else order me about in this matter." She did not realize her own stubbornness, her own blindness.
Cullen strode up to her, his arms placed about her forearms, bringing her to face him, to show the severity of the matter. "The men who shot at you and Collins upon your return were aiming at you, Miss Swan, because of your association with the major!" he hissed to her. She sensed the frown beneath the mask, her breath leaving her lungs quickly, stripping the words from her.
But that was not what had rendered her completely mute.
Cullen faced the balcony. Next to it, she had placed the lit oil lamp. The silver light the full moon mingled with the golden flames had found their way to Cullen. His orbs were captured in the bright light. For the first time, Bella Swan could perceive them fully.
Emerald eyes.
A deep and vivid green that sparked with intensity in their regard of her. An explosion of color that drew her in, reminding her of the rolling hills outside of Hayes in summer.
Her lips parted, her expression astonished. She recognized those eyes from somewhere. Mesmerized she inspected them further, leaning in, trying to discern where she had seen this man before.
Suddenly, Cullen stepped away from her, turning from the inquisitive chocolate orbs that analyzed him so.
"H-how can you know this?" she breathed.
"I know," he growled with his back to her. For the first time, Bella felt like she held the power in their conversation.
"The night at The Laughing Goose—when you attacked Captain Forster," she whispered. "Why did you do it?" She was reminded of what Collins had asked her; about Cullen. Had he done it for her?
His shoulder blades shifted with the tension, she saw the rippling in the black fabric. His right hand went to pinch the bridge of his nose.
He had no answer to give her.
Cullen always had a witty remark, yet she had caught him this time. But Bella did not feel victorious at all. It felt as if she had unearthed something that should be hidden; much like his face. She did not wish to know that he housed any sort of feelings for her, or—in the absolute truth—who was truly beneath the mask.
That made him human in her eyes. And if he was human, he could die.
He had been right, Bella then realized. She did worry for him, despite what she had been telling herself. Which meant that she cared for this man, to some degree.
The man in black turned to face her. "I thank you for hiding me from the lancers, Miss Swan. I will not disturb you again," he bowed, making his way to her balcony.
Bella stood rooted, watching him leave. A part of her wanted to cry out for him, ask him to stay. Yet, another part didn't want to have anything more to do with him. She was courted by Collins and expected he would ask for her hand any day now. Besides, nothing good could come of a relationship between two people named Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen; if history was doomed to repeat itself.
She watched him open the balcony doors, turn around and bow and then jump down into her gardens. Her heart would not slow down, and she felt her head spin with conflicting emotions. Bella hurried after him in the end, standing on the balcony and saw as he rushed toward the pond and was swallowed by the branches of the weeping willow.
As she stood exposed to the chill of an early spring, wallowing in the metallic scent of wet earth and fragrance of the night, Bella realized she recognized those green orbs. She knew who this man was, alas she could not yet place a face with those eyes.
In the confinements of a secret room somewhere in Hayes, the still black-garbed man sat down with a deep breath. He could not forget the way she had looked at him when asking why he had gone after Forster. How obvious it had been—that he had done it for her. A closed fist came down harshly on the small table to the side, holding his regular clothes thrown hastily across a chair.
He knew he had placed himself in such a situation, yet it did not stop him from damning every decision which had led him to that moment. As Cullen, he knew it was dangerous to even seek her out. As his other self, there was never a chance she might look twice at him. Bella Swan was set on having Collins, despite his lacking character, and it drove him mad.
He stripped off the mask and gloves, lighting a small candle and retrieving the letter from his sash. There was only Lucy Berg's tavern left to visit now, and then he would have all the evidence he needed.
While Safeira and Wessport kept occupied with the signs of revolt in the north, he might send the evidence of what was going on in Hayes to people of power yet good character who might help in taking down the current administration of the town.
He finally sat down and read Mr. Ridge's letter.
Dear whoever gets this letter,
I shall not mention the name of the person I'd wish to destine this to because of the fear that this information might fall into the wrong hands. If that is the case, then I do not hold much hope for Hayes any longer.
I shall soon be killed, I suspect. Captain Forster has come to threaten me several times to stop digging in the archives and the city's accounts about him. I have tried to turn to several people for help in Safeira and Wessport, but I believe my letters have not reached them. I do not wish to involve anyone in Hayes, lest they also get the same threats I have. This letter is a final precaution, should I come to perish.
The other day, Forster found some of the evidence I'd gathered about him; about tax collections. But what he only found was the copies I made. I think I could have kept my life, had I not discovered that Captain Forster is merely a pawn for someone else in this town. What I am about to tell you cannot be disclosed to anyone expect from those you have sought out while gathering the pieces I placed out. They are people of utmost trust and I expect you could all help each other, should the need ever come to it. My findings are summarized in this list:
1. The envelope with all the correspondence between Captain Forster and this individual that I have left in safe hands.
2. The ledgers and accounts that I have given to someone else.
3. This letter, that will summarize my findings and explain the evidence. I shall not disclose how I came about all pieces of information.
I trusted in the law, but never realized how corrupt Hayes truly was. I hope, that by disclosing this evidence to you, dear reader, you might use it to rid Hayes of Forster and those like him.
He had to stop, his mouth had grown dry after having read the first page. The words made him sick, reaffirming what he already knew to be true. Ridge had been killed. The penmanship was careful, but he saw that some letters had been drawn in a shaking hand. Here and there were splatters of ink.
The accounts and ledgers detailing Hayes' taxes are quite vague in the local archives. They are badly kept since few people seem to control their validity. We townspeople, people of good faith, have always paid the money due to the crown without questioning the Royal Guard when collecting it, despite the fact that a magistrate has not been "available" to oversee the tax collection for the past year to come. Perhaps, because of the general goodwill of us people, we were taken advantage of by those who wished to get rich on our behalf.
I started digging in the local archives and eventually, hidden away where no one thought they would be found, I found ledgers and accounts for the past two years; 1792-1793. Indeed, it was to my grand surprise to see that Hayes had officially been taxed a smaller amount than I suspected. 650,200 crowns were officially reported for 1792 to the royal treasury in Safeira. 638,000 crowns were reported for '93. This might seem normal if I had not gone further and checked the accounting done for these two years. Obviously, already suspecting tax fraud, I looked up Captain Forster's personal records after—shamefully admitting to it—breaking into the archives in the cellar of the Town Hall; not that they are very guarded.
In these accounts I found two abnormalities:
1. Captain Forster does not pay taxes and taxes are not omitted from his salary. In fact, Captain Forster's official salary does not match the amount present in his spending. He overspends by more than double of what he earns.
2. Mayor Wilson, like Captain Forster, overspends by almost eight times more than he earns. Transactions in these records also account for large sums of money being given, unofficially, to the mayor each month a few days after the taxes are collected.
What these findings show are, as I suspected, that Hayes is overtaxed, and the extra amount is placed mainly into Mayor Wilson's pockets. He has been, for the last few years since his arrival, making himself rich on our behalf. He has managed to erase most of his paper trail in this matter. Indeed, up until this point, I had no reason to think Wilson was anything but greedy. And, were I to present these findings in court, it would still be difficult to prove the full extent of his crime. I suppose it would take me months, maybe even years.
However, had it not been for a bundle of letters I stumbled upon thanks in part to my maid, I might not have taken this issue further.
As it were, in the sealed envelope that I have mentioned beforehand, is the lengthy correspondence between Mayor Wilson and Captain Forster from January of '94 until early summer, right when Billy Black was arrested. Such a correspondence, written in their hands, will give proof enough of the terror those men have bestowed upon this town. They grew careless when my maid managed to steal these letters—but I also believe the letters are the reason for the threats.
Dear reader, hide this evidence until you are certain you can find someone of entire trust, someone with great connections but a kind heart. I believe Wilson has shut Hayes down to the rest of Angloa, however, he has managed that—bribing other officials wouldn't surprise me. I hope you will take whatever action you deem necessary. People shouldn't have to take food out of their children's mouths so that this proud captain and blasted mayor can live in luxury they do not deserve.
Wishing you luck,
Lucas Ridge.
He had, of course, already known it was Wilson, after having read the correspondence between the captain and the mayor. Wilson was the root cause of it all. He had to be bribing a few choice people in order to keep his little kingdom running smoothly. Cullen had already sent him a letter of warning, hoping it would make the mayor slip up. But, as of yet, the only thing Wilson had done was to relocate once more to town, surrounding himself with his personal guard and throwing soirées almost every night. In that way, the mayor thought the masked man wouldn't seek him out when surrounded by people.
Alice practically threw herself into Bella's embrace as she entered the Masen townhouse. Both women looked like they had not slept for the whole night. Alice had heavy bags under her eyes and a pale complexion, made worse by parched lips and jittery countenance.
Bella looked better in appearance, but she was restless, her gaze flighty, her thoughts jumbled. Whenever she closed her eyes, she was reminded of Cullen's presence in her chamber, his sudden change in character right before leaving. His emerald orbs threw her off the most. She knew who he was, she had met him before, without the mask and in the light of day. Bella had a recollection of the same eyes staring down at her, but the flighty mind would not cooperate.
She had ridden to the Masen's in the family coach the very morning of Cullen's nocturnal escapade. They were supposed to dine together that evening, but it had, for obvious reasons, been canceled.
As she suspected, the event was already hopping from mouth to mouth. But one would not expect less of such a gossipy town as Hayes. The mere fact that half of the town had been awakened by the patrols and gunshots only spurred more on the constant flow of conversation about him.
Alice had dressed hastily, as much was obvious the moment Bella laid eyes on her. The mint green close bodied gown had been pinned in place with little care and the white shawl covering the upper part of her bosom for modesty was askew. Black curls cascaded past her shoulders, partly gathered at the top, away from her face. But Alice had not, as she usually did, put her mass of curls up.
Bella had a simple white muslin gown with a turquoise sash. She had dressed hastily, wishing to ride to the Masens and see how they faired after Cullen's little stunt. It was obvious the family was shaken.
"My dearest Bella!" Alice began with a rushed and rough voice. "Come, come," she urged her into the parlor where the others were taking their morning tea or coffee. The only one absent was Carlisle.
"Miss Swan," Esmeralda said, getting up to greet the young woman.
"Lady Masen, I needed to come over and see that you were all well. I…heard the news that it was at your house where Cullen had been sighted," she said, giving the Baroness a quick kiss in greeting on the cheek.
"We…we are quite well, Isabella," Esmeralda confided.
Jasper Hale poured Bella a cup of coffee, a brew she had not tried much but found strangely alluring. She was shown to the sofa, sitting next to Edward Masen. He looked as if he was about to doze off at any moment.
"Sgt. Thompson came into our house in the early hours of the morning and had all rooms searched," she explained as she made herself comfortable next to Edward. The moment she sat down, he jerked awake, alerted and alarmed.
"Oh, heaven spare me, Miss Swan. I thought you to be that blackguard," he drawled, his voice groggy with sleep.
Bella sent him a glance and a reassuring smile. "I cannot imagine the stress you must all have gone through," she said with sympathy. Bella felt bad she had not tried to seek Carlisle Masen out herself and tried to get the letter without Cullen interfering. But she had promised both him and Jacob that she would not involve herself anymore. Cullen had not mentioned anything about the family sighting him the previous night, but from their unsettled state, they must have done so.
"Emmett fought him, Bella!" Alice blurted out. "He was just going over it."
"Indeed, Mr. McCarty?" Bella asked befuddled.
"I say, had one of the footmen not missed him, we should have been rid of that menace once and for all," Edward snapped with indignation. "I still believe we should allow the captain to place some sentinels here, in case he should return."
Emmett ignored Edward, making it clear the dandy had been repeating himself the entire morning. "Aye, and I have never fought anything like him. It is a style unlike I have ever seen."
"Did you manage to deduce more about this man?" Bella asked.
Emmett looked as worn out as Alice. "I thought myself fighting the most seasoned man of battle I've ever stumbled upon. He did not fight for sport—a simple duel amongst gentlemen. That man knew what I was going to do before doing it. He knew how to read my expressions, the twitch in my hands and my footwork. He fought a battle indeed," Emmett muttered.
"Really now, dearest, you are only sour because Cullen bested you," Rosalie McCarty said, sipping her tea and playing with the pale pink skirt of her taffeta gown.
"But there is one thing I did reveal about him," Emmett retorted. "He is left-handed, probably the reason why it was so hard fighting against him. Fencing a left-handed man when you are right-handed is always difficult."
Bella placed down the cup and pressed her lips together as her nostrils flared slightly. The previous night, when Cullen had been in her chamber and moved around there, reaching out, he had favored his right hand. And, as she thought about it, he had done so on previous encounters. Indeed, should not a left-handed man favor his left hand if that were the case?
Or, maybe, Cullen held enough skill to fight both with his left and his right hand? She heard a small snort come from Edward Masen, sitting next to her.
"They say that left-handed men are the spawns of a demon," he stated in his thin voice.
She had glanced over at him, sitting tall with a slight slouch in his shoulders, his chin high in the air as ever. But his cravat was unkempt as if he had as thrown in on hastily. It made for a more normal posture in him. He only had on his beige waistcoat and dark trousers, not yet dressed to face the day, she suspected.
Mr. Masen must have noted her regarding him, for he turned her way, placing his attention on her.
Bella swallowed the coffee hard and a coughing fit claimed her as the liquid settled wrongly in her throat. She blinked through the tears as she tried to control herself, feeling a hand slap her upper back to aid with the liquid. Bella took a shaky deep breath as she steadied herself, her face red, her eyes shedding tears from the strain. She saw it as a momentary God-send when the others rushed to her, worrying for her well-being. Alice was soon by her side, massaging her back as Bella breathed deeply.
"I think we are all still a bit weary from last night," Jasper Hale laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to be working, for the rest joined in.
But Bella could not.
She was caught by a set of peculiar eyes that no longer looked at her. A set of intense orbs the color of the rolling hills outside of Hayes.
Emerald orbs.
Eyes she had always perceived as dull and glazed over with boredom. But it had only been an act, she realized now. Indeed, the first time she noted there was something peculiar about those eyes had been the day April had thrown her off her saddle and Edward Masen had rushed to her aid. And the second time she had noted something peculiar about those eyes had been when Edward Masen had snuck into her chamber the previous night to escape the soldiers.
Bella stared at the fop, and she knew without a doubt that he was Cullen. The moment she had realized his brilliant guise as Edward Masen, she knew.
"Infernal man," Bella murmured furiously under her breath. He had had quite a good time making fun of them all, hadn't he?
"What was that, madam?" he asked with an arched eyebrow, turning to her.
Suddenly Bella grew rather smug. Aye, he must have gotten quite the laugh with her. Well, two could play that game, she thought. She needed to recollect herself after the sudden and quite shocking realization. Yet Bella knew it would be some time before she could thoroughly digest it.
"Oh, nothing, Mr. Masen," she answered as a smirk started curling on her lips while she rose the cup of coffee to her face. "Nothing at all, I assure you."
A/N: I also enjoy the Bella/Cullen scenes ;)
Cheers,
Isabelle