AUDEAMUS
Chapter 24
"Lorraine, I need help with my—"
The maid hid her face from her mistress, fidgeting with her hands, her shoulders shaking, her lip trembling.
"Lorraine?"
"Tis nothing, miss," Lorraine answered in a thick voice. It was evident to anyone that she had been weeping silently. She had found refuge in a corner of the kitchen where few maids frequented as it held the salted and cured meats. Bella had asked Dory if she'd seen her and simply been pointed to the closed door.
Bella walked up to her.
"Miss, you'll ruin your dress if you come in here!"
"Nonsense!" Bella pulled up the skirt of her dress and sat on a stool next to the other woman who dried her tears. Lorraine's face was puffy and her eyes red. "Do…do you know one of those farmers who have been sentenced?" she asked carefully.
It was enough to make Lorraine sob once more. "My brother, Martin," Lorraine stammered, hiding her face in her hands.
Bella placed a comforting hand on her back. "I am sorry," she whispered. "I never thought Forster…or Collins would go this far."
"In four days, they will hang them, and for what? For giving food to some starving men in a forest?" she hiccupped. "Oh miss," the maid said, turning to face Bella. "What should I do? I cannot let them kill my brother!"
"I went to Collins. I…was blind to him, thought him above all of this, able to right Forster's wrongs. But…" Bella looked away and stood up. "There is only one we can rely on right now, and hope that he succeeds in rescuing them like he has with the others."
"Five men, Miss Swan. I do not think even a man like Cullen will be able to carry through such a feat," Lorraine sobbed.
"There is little else that can be done." She regretted having said those words. Lorraine's tears struck a heavy blow and Bella realized no words of comfort could be given. Only her presence and solidarity in the matter was all she could offer.
Dory found them and soon took over so that Bella could leave for the Stanley tea gathering. She had no mind for it. For even if the day was bright and full of life, she felt dull inside. She had no wish to sit before her friends and have them watch her with a look saying, 'I told you so'. Her argument with Collins had been public, and she had made it clear that their acquaintance and relation was terminated.
But she still braved her way on April's back, letting her horse trot through the streets. Another telltale sign of spring was witnessed as Mr. Simmons sat in the old square, next to General Cullen's statue, playing chess with himself. She gave him a meek wave of the hand and hurried her mare on.
April took her to the townhouse, and she was let into the perfumed and frilly parlor. The air was thick with fragrance and her eyes became overexposed to the invading pastel colors. Jessica Stanley sat with Miss Moore and Webber by her side. They were more subdued than usual. Alice and Rosalie sat speaking with some other young women. It was not the usual flowing conversation, or lengthy monologues produced by Miss Stanley that Bella was used to.
"Might have I missed something, or am I late to a funeral?" Bella mumbled as she stepped in. They arched their eyebrows but ignored her rude statement.
"How good of you to come, Miss Swan," Jessica acknowledged. The strong dislike between both women had waned. While Jessica still held some distaste for Isabella, she had grown to tolerate her.
Bella glided to sit down next to Alice, receiving a steaming cup of brewed coffee from a maid. The young brunette took notice that she was not served tea like the rest. "Had you made it aware from the start, I would have offered another beverage," Jessica added, taking a delicate sip with a lifted pinky finger.
"I did not wish to cause offense," Bella said. But then she forced a smile that felt more genuine the longer it graced her features. "Thank you, Miss Stanley," she said.
"They say Mr. Wilson is throwing his biggest party yet at the end of May; to welcome summer," Angela Webber interrupted in an urge to change the subject. She grew a sheepish look when all ladies eyed her.
"Dear, he has been throwing gatherings every night for the past fortnight," Miss Moore said, putting in an extra spoonful of sugar in her drink.
Another young woman, with reddish blonde hair and a frilly white dress with red trim, leaned forward, her freckles standing out on an ashen face. "Have you not heard the rumors about Mr. Wilson?" she whispered, almost giddy, slightly afraid. She grew more ashen.
"What rumors?" asked Rosalie. "Does he have gout again?" she wondered with little interest.
"No!" the other said. "Rumors that he might have…committed tax fraud?" the redhead said, carefully. "That he has not in fact been keeping away from Forster due to fear of him, rather because it is said they work together."
Bella spilled her cup of coffee all over herself and nearly dropped the porcelain on the floor. Her entire dress had a big mark of the dark brew as she hastened to stand up, her skin white as a ghost's.
"Wilson?!" she nearly spat with such ire that she thought she'd strangle whoever she could get her hands on.
"Miss Swan, restrain yourself!" Jessica shouted. "Smithers, clean-up!" she motioned to the servant as he ran over to them.
Bella seethed with anger and disgust. How on earth could kind old Wilson, one of her father's absolute best friends, be involved? Had he also prompted the killing of Ridge and Haste?
"It's only a rumor," Alice reassured her, pressing a damp napkin to the muslin, alas with little success, for the fabric remained equally stained.
Edward had to know, Bella guessed. Maybe even Jacob. And for how long? If Edward knew he must have already threatened the mayor, which would explain the constant wave of people Wilson surrounded himself with. Wilson had always fled to town the moment any sightings of Cullen were mentioned. He sought out the big flock, imagining he would find security amongst them. For a fortnight he had been hosting constant gatherings. Thus, Edward must have known, maybe Jacob too! Her father had spent much time in the presence of that man! She took a deep breath. Was her father in any danger?
"Bella, calm down," Alice now whispered. The golden orbs searched her chocolate ones with a worried look in them. Alice frowned. "What is it?" she asked. They had gone to the corner of the room on the pretense that Bella needed to clean up.
"Alice," Bella stammered. "I…I do not think they are rumors."
"But not Wilson…not the Wilson?" her friend asked.
Bella took Alice's hands in her own. "There is much I should confide to you, things I have held back. But one of them is that if Wilson is the man I think he is, we must keep away from him!"
It dawned on them that such a feat was impossible. "We cannot, Bella. It would be strange if we did, we'd attract attention. Everyone else is treating this as a rumor."
She despaired more and more by the minute. Bella Swan thought her nerves would collapse on her. Was this how Lucas Ridge had felt at his end? A part of her wished she had never gotten involved. But another part, much stronger, knew there was no turning back now.
"I must go," she murmured.
"Where?"
The French doors opened to an exquisite garden that had started blooming, lace and frills and perfume intermingled in the pastel palette of the room. It did not fit with the underlying rot, the fear and stench she associated with it.
"Away," she whispered frantically. "From here, to seek out someone who can make sense of this."
Alice did not inquire more, as if the hollow and frightful eyes were enough explanation to her. But she grew weary of Bella; like the young woman knew something Alice didn't.
All eyes trailed after her as she suddenly excused herself, curtsying and rushing out. Their lips pressed tightly together, but none said anything. The other ladies attributed Bella Swan's strange behavior to her quarrel with Collins and the breaking of their courtship.
But while part of it was a weight on her mind, Bella felt weighed down by everything that had happened as of late. When did her life become so complicated?
She knew one person who could make sense to it. April galloped to The Laughing Goose. It was right after lunch and Bella rushed in, not even caring for decorum. The moment Lucy saw her, she pulled her to the side and poured a cup of straight brandy for her.
"Don't talk, just drink," the older woman said, her forehead wrinkled at the sight of the young woman before her. She looked to be at her breaking point.
Bella downed the contents of the glass in one swoop. Lucy poured her another one. The tavern had a few patrons at the far end playing cards. Bella drank the brandy, disliking how it burned the back of her throat.
Lucy was her faithful friend, her trusty companion—the one she now apparently shared it all with. Yet Bella grew dismayed; there wasn't really anyone she did share everything with, not really.
Secrets, conspirations, corruption: they were all a strange part of her life now.
"Ya heard the rumor," Lucy sighed, grabbing for a bottle behind the counter and pouring Bella's favorite: apple juice. She'd had enough alcohol for the month, for Lucy figured the young lady rarely drank such strong spirits.
Bella's lip trembled. Lucy's understanding eased it all a little. "And Collins," the young woman said, her voice failing her. "James…I tried to ignore it…ignore what everyone said about him." Her voice broke. She looked up at Lucy, teary-eyed. "I'm sorry, Lucy. I didn't know where else to go," she stated meekly.
Lucy shook her head. "Ted!" she shouted. Ted came running from the kitchens with hopeful eyes. "Bar, now!"
It was all he needed. And as Ted took to stand, serving spirits behind the counter and wiping the worn wood, Lucy took Bella's hand into her own and dragged her to her chambers. Bella followed in muted silence.
Once in Lucy's small room, she had her sit on her hastily made bed. She urged Bella to finish the sweet liquid. Lucy was brought back to a time when she'd taken to the bottle, just as her husband had died. She rarely touched alcohol anymore, afraid she'd lose herself in it like in the past. It had been Bella's sweet concern—her eagerness to help her out of bed and get decent for the day, her presence in the tavern—that had finally brought her out of her miserable depression.
But it seemed the tables were turned. For never before had Lucy discerned the young chestnut beauty to be so confused.
"Ya've turned down silly lads in the past, with the mere flick of a finger," Lucy stated, dragging a small chair to sit next to her. "I refuse to believe yer in this state over Collins."
"Why? It makes sense, doesn't it?" Bella didn't truly know her own feelings, only that she was confused.
Lucy shook her head with a knowing smile. "Maybe an accumulation of things that have brought on stress: rumors 'bout Wilson, the fact that five innocent men are being sent to their deaths? Anyone would be upset. And that fight ya had the other day and yer termination of the acquaintance might have to do with it, but I do not believe ya mourn that loss."
"Why do you say such a thing?"
"Because," Lucy said sternly, gesturing with her hand. "Ya did not love him."
"Lucy!"
"Think Isabella, think really hard. Out of all the thing's I've mentioned, what unsettled you the most?"
She saw her own reflection in Lucy's dark eyes and stifled a gasp. Bella looked horrible, pale, with almost bloodshot eyes and terrified expression. She thought about it. And the more she thought about Collins, the more it dawned on her that she did not miss him as she thought she would. His absence did not provoke any sorrows in her.
"I suppose it to be Wilson and the execution."
"And what about them has ya acting like this? Ya know we cannot do much right now about Wilson," Lucy cooed in a motherly way. She tried to settle Bella's mind, but part of her believed her words to make it worse. "And those lads will be saved by Cullen—"
"It's a suicide mission, Lucy!" she spat as her nose wrinkled and she shook her head. "Collins said they'd shoot to kill if he tried to save them." Her breath became heavier and she could finally feel the tears roll down her cheeks upon her sudden outburst.
As soon as she had spoken the words, Bella Swan quickly shut her mouth and looked with wide eyes up at her old friend, only to find a sad smile. She started standing up from the bed, fiddling with her hands, trying to make up an excuse.
But she could not.
"Ya said ya did not associate with outlaws, Bella," Lucy chuckled smugly.
The young woman turned around, lost for words. She started thinking of Edward and that warm, jittery feeling extended itself within her chest. She grabbed at it, in a desperate attempt to calm her heart.
"I saw him fight Forster like it was nothin'. He's bested the entire garrison, and now he has Jacob Black, and a handful of young men helpin' him."
Lucy stood up as well, going over to the corner where some boxes were stacked. She retrieved a paper bag with what appeared to be ledgers and documents in them. She held them for a while in her hands. "I'm blessed to be well read enough to understand what Wilson has been doin' for these past few years—robin' us blind, the idiot." She walked over to Bella and handed her the stack.
Bella was still trying to come to grips with her newfound realization.
She looked at the bag. "Why now?"
Lucy chuckled. "If ya had told me ya knew him, I'd given them to ya in a heartbeat, Isabella. I trust in ya to get these to him. And I trust that when ya do, ya get yer act together and clear things up with him before he heads to rescue those men," Lucy chastised.
Bella shook her head. No, she couldn't face Edward as Cullen, not now when she knew who he was. He would see, he would know. She didn't want him to know that she was aware of his secret identity. Things were already complicated enough.
"A-aye, I will make these get to him," she mumbled.
Despite it all, Bella Swan looked up at Lucy. In a few quick exchanges, the older and wiser woman had made her realize how blind she'd been these last few months. Bella had turned to Collins in an attempt to ignore her growing affection for someone else. And it was time she truly came to terms with them—either by trying to suffocate the growing flame or by adding fuel to it.
"I believe ya should change, don't ya?" Lucy winked.
Bella looked at her muslin gown, the stain now dried into it, standing out offensively stark in contrast with the light fabric. She still smelled the coffee on herself. "Aye," she whispered.
And then she needed to ride to St. Nicholas.
Friar Nathan rang the bell three times as Bella fiddled with her hands. The ledgers were secured in the confessional for Jacob to take, but she could not sit still until he was there.
She had no mind to speak with him, to hear of their plan—it would only make her more nervous. She only wished to give him the ledgers. Then she would distance herself from him and from Edward. The young woman was afraid of her strong emotions and thought that turning her back on them might be the answer.
As she paced up and down the nave—the sun just disappeared behind the top trees of Raven's Grove—the small frame of Blackwood stalked down the passage as well, heading for the young woman. "Miss Swan, you'll wear down the floor," he blinked at her.
"Did you happen to see Jacob, father?" she asked. He shook his head. After all, only ten minutes had passed.
"Is something on your mind? You look troubled."
She'd had a refreshing bath back home and changed into a new gown before taking April to St. Nicholas. Bella chuckled. "Too many things, and few that I can divulge," she sighed. Robert was lounging in the entrance, having ridden with her on the request of her mother and father.
Blackwood motioned for one of the benches. "Would you sit down with me? I am sure we can keep company until young Mr. Black arrives."
"As you wish, father." The young woman followed his hunched form and they sat in the front row, regarding the altar. It was fixed to the floor, quite simple with a free-standing wooden table before it. The table was covered in a white cloth and had silver candleholders with thick wax candles that would be lit during mass.
"I have told you before that I care little for what happens in Hayes, yet Friar Nathan is more interested and always keeps me up to date. I was made aware of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding your acquaintance with Major Collins," Blackwood said, looking at the altar and the stone steps leading up to it.
"Then you must also know that the major will not prevent Captain Forster from executing those five men," she whispered. The very words bore heavy on her soul. "I cannot believe it."
"It's not your fault that you couldn't have him intercede, Miss Swan," Rasmus said, clasping his hands within his habit's sleeves, eying her. "But is that really what is bearing down on you the most? Major Collins?"
She kept her eyes glued to her shoes, studying the toes coming to a point in the dark brown leather, looking at every minuscule wrinkle. "No," she confessed. "Of course I fear for those five young men," she added quickly.
"Then who has you in this way?" Blackwood asked.
Bella forcibly shook her head and bit her lip. "I cannot say, father," she stammered. Her heart increased its speed and she dared look up at him for a split second. There was no burning curiosity in Blackwood's eyes, nor any sort of judgment. There was only a friendly smile on this thin lips and a slight creasing at the edges of his black eyes.
"Rest assured, Miss Swan, that those men will be rescued. I have faith in the Lord. I might not always understand how he operates, mind you, but I do believe he knows what he is doing," Blackwood chuckled.
"I have faith in that as well," she mumbled, staring up at the altar, at the representation of various saints and, in the center, the Virgin holding her son in her arms.
"I think Cullen will have his most successful mission yet," Blackwood blinked.
She drew a quick breath through her nose, fiddled with her hands and stood up. Bella couldn't sit still and started pacing around after what he had said.
Blackwood knew, then, what was truly on her mind.
"One should not worry for the Ghost of Raven's Grove, Miss Swan," he told her.
Bella strolled up to the steps leading to the altar, looking at it in more detail. She turned around, her skirts flowing about her, the light from the wax candles cascading about her form. "He is a man of flesh and blood, father," she said. "A man who could be wounded…apprehended…killed."
Rasmus stood up with great difficulty due to his stiff limbs. He walked up to her and patted her on her shoulder. A knowing smile spread on his lips as he remained silent, subdued. She kept firm under his regard but knew he had completely seen through her, just as Lucy had. Was it that evident? "I think young Mr. Black is here," he whispered.
Bella turned, looking down to the dark corner of the transept. One of the doors to the confessional stood open. He must have already stepped inside.
Bella bit her lip and watched as the friar kept strolling down the nave, leaving her to her friend. Her chocolate eyes trailed back to the elaborate wooden confessional. She was not naïve enough to think she could share her fears and feelings with an old man, even within the confinements of confession. Yet, she also knew he'd never share them with anyone else.
Her feet brought her to the dark shadows, and she proceeded to light some wax candles to better see where she was going. She wondered how much Jacob had heard of their conversation. Bella neared with a severe expression. "You know, Jacob, it's very impertinent of you to spy on me and Friar Blackwood like that," she snickered, standing outside of the confessional, wringing her hands.
He remained silent.
"It's even more impolite to not answer me."
Suddenly, the door opened and a hand pulled her inside. Bella gave out a cry of surprise as she settled in the limited space of the confessional. She could scarcely stand without falling into Jacob's lap.
But when she turned to him, she noted it was not Jacob staring up at her. Bella saw two emerald orbs regarding her from behind a black mask and the blood drained from her face.
"H-how much did you hear?" she whispered, pressing against the back wall and latticed opening. He stood up, towering over her with an amused smile spreading on his lips.
"Enough," the voice rumbled against her, stirring her heart. "More than enough," he repeated.
She shook her head angrily. "W-why are you here? Where is Jacob?" She was utterly dumbfounded by him, completely taken off guard. Bella felt bared, naked. And then, she grew angry. "How dare you spy on my conversation with the friar?" she hissed. Their voices reverberated as soft echoes within the walls of the church.
He put up two hands in defense, surprised at her sudden outburst. "After I came all this way to speak with you, you treat me like a stranger?" he asked her, mocking offense. "Come now, Miss Swan, we are well acquainted by now."
She pointed a finger at him and closed in, getting even more defensive. "Do not play coy with me, Cullen, I know all your tricks!"
His eyes crossed as they regarded her finger, which was almost up in his face. "I am sorry you feel that way about me when you a few minutes ago were so completely broken up and worried about me," he teased, pushing away her finger.
"You are very self-absorbed if you think it was you that I was speaking of," she muttered.
"Then who?"
"J-Jacob Black!" It was the first name she could come to think of. But it made sense, she and Jacob had been friends for a very long time. It made sense she'd worry about him instead of Cullen.
And it seemed Edward thought the same for she could see the flash in his eyes. "Black, you say?" Oh, she could hear it in his deep voice how it affected him.
Bella gained a spurt of confidence. "Always Jacob," she said smugly.
His eyes squinted. "I do not believe you," he growled, nearing her, pinning her further into the corner. Bella blushed.
"I hold no worry for you, sir," she growled back, staring him down defiantly. But Bella had never been a good liar, she wondered if he'd see through her now.
The entire church had gone completely silent, and very empty. But all she felt was a trickling sense of giving way to her beating heart, to the heat in her body, to feelings she'd never encountered before. It stretched from deep inside her, tugging, pulling, shattering. She thought the whole church would come down crashing with the loud thuds of her heart. She thought that the eyes of heaven would look down upon her and judge her for what she felt for this man. For it could not be natural.
"Look me in the eyes and say that again," she heard his voice whisper into her left ear. Bella stifled a shiver, fearing her knees would give out on her.
"No," she said, biting her lip.
She dared not face him, afraid of her own reaction and what she might read in the line of his face, in the set of his lips. She did not wish to be teased, to be his source of amusement when she took the situation so seriously. She was the one who would play around with him and his feelings now. But even when she held an advantage over him, Bella could not.
"Then you do not mind if I go to the garrison, wouldn't mind if I got shot by Forster and even got killed by him?" he asked, the velvety voice smooth and silky against her ears.
She kept her mouth closed. If she spoke, he'd know.
"Look at me," he told her.
She still had her eyes cast to the floor, staring at the folds in her dress and the cut of his boots.
"Bella."
Her name ran in two perfect syllables against his tongue. It felt so very different when he said it. It sounded right; like the name was meant to be said by him, as if he had always called her that. It must have taken him by surprise as well, for she could feel him hesitate.
"After tonight, I shall not irritate you further. But look at me and tell me that you hold no care or worry for me," his low rich voice whispered, carried by the faint echo within the church. It brushed against her and she bit down hard.
He reached out further and turned her to face him. The emerald eyes there, fully present in the moment. For the first time, both were completely serious adults, with no teasing or assumption about the other. In a way, both stood bared, with conflicting emotions. Yet she tried to run away from hers.
Edward stepped in further, his right hand cupping her face softly; as if he wished for nothing else in the world. He waited for her reaction as he guided her face up to meet his entirely. His thumb brushed her lower lip as it had once before, a yearning in his caress that made her body weak and her heart grow so livid that she might collapse from the pressure.
Despite knowing him to be Edward Masen, she could not for the life of her put the two together. But here he was; so genuine and gentle in his manner toward her. It had been easier when she hadn't known anything. It had been easier when he had teased her.
She finally gave up. "Alright," she murmured with a resigned air. "You win," she looked at him, her eyes sparkling and filled with resentment that he had cornered her. "I fear for you, because you take thoughtless risks, because you have a complete disregard for your own life. And I hate that you forced your way into my life, I hate that I now worry for your safety." But she would not tell him why: that she knew he was Edward Masen. "How do you expect me to confide in you when you will not even show your face?" she whispered. This was his chance to finally tell her who he was.
His dark form loomed over her and she saw the set of his mouth, the way his jaw squared. Bella had hit a nerve and she knew it.
"What lies beneath this mask would only disappoint you, Miss Swan," he told her. She stared at the lips, watched in fascination as they moved when he spoke in a low murmur. While his words had been subdued before, they now resonated with his powerful voice: it was unmistakably him.
"You cannot know that," she breathed back. "You do not know me," she said haughtily with a prideful air. "Nor how I will react."
"I think I do, if only a little." He neared her further and reached up. Any amount of a smile was gone, replaced by a serious and searching expression, looking for something in her eyes. She stood perfectly still, afraid to move. The way he had looked at her before returned now. He removed his right hand from her arm. "Miss Swan, does this feel wrong to you?" he asked into her ear as his thumb brushed against her jaw and he stared at her mouth. Bella's skin turned into gooseflesh and the butterflies in her lower abdomen increased tenfold. "Would you protest if I kissed you?"
She had never found herself so confused and in such a situation before. Bella was supposed to push away, turn from him. Her eyes widened as they were glazed over with unshed tears. "Yes!" she exclaimed terrified in a faint but determined voice, afraid of her own reaction.
"I do not believe you."
How would it feel to kiss him? How would it feel to be kissed by this man? He who had been amusing himself with teasing her, toying with her. But Bella could not stop herself as she stared into his eyes. In the golden light of the wax candles, she studied them: their intensity, the way he regarded her.
Teasingly slow, his lips came down to brush softly against hers, discerning her reaction. When she did not stop him, he continued to explore her lips with his. Bella shivered at his touch. But it was a pleasant experience, extending throughout her body, making her crave more than his simple teasing. She closed her eyes as he pressed his mouth against hers more decidedly. He was careful, gentle in his touch, mindful of not scaring her.
Despite herself, the situation—the fact that Robert, Blackwood or even Nathan could stumble upon them in the confessional—she grabbed on to the collar of his shirt and drew him in with a sigh as she parted her lips to deepen the kiss. She could feel him smiling against her as he took her invitation.
There was only that moment between the two: strangers in the night. Yet, there was a deeper understanding, an unspoken bond that had emerged during their time they had known one another, and it reflected in their kiss.
His arms snaked about her form, their bond more passionate, another sigh escaping her as she melted in his arms, grew warm and secure in his embrace.
But.
Wait.
What was she doing?
What on earth what she doing?!
Suddenly, she broke the kiss, placing a hand on his chest to put some room between them. Bella was horrified with her action. She pushed him away, placing her other hand over her mouth.
His glistening eyes burrowed into her very soul. Hadn't she known any better, she would truly think him a specter.
Bella desperately needed to get away from him and the confusing situation. She turned away and opened the door, running to the entrance of the church.
Edward stared after her, trying to control his breathing and frantic pulse. She had deepened their kiss. Despite what she had said to Masen about Cullen, Bella Swan had acted completely against it.
He pushed past the drunk guests as the gathering came to its end in the early hours of the morning. Forster wrinkled his nose at the stale waft of mead, claret, and food. The footman, clad in his elegant dark blue coat with gold lining and white wig, held the candleholder high above his head as he guided the captain up the staircase.
Forster's eyes darted about, taking in the many portraits of ancestors from Wilson's family, how the candlelight cast eerie shadows across their features. He imagined snarls on their faces as he passed them on the carpeted staircase.
Two vast doors pulled open to reveal Wilson's office. The man of the hour sat and was going over notes with a worried expression in his eyes. His mouth was fixed in a snarl as he read a paragraph.
"Captain Forster here for you, sir," the footman said in a flat tone, ushering Forster in and promptly closing the door after him.
Wilson ignored him, trailing over the paperwork once more, his expression jumping from gleeful to irritated.
It was four in the morning and Forster grew increasingly tired Wilson's behavior. "This is the third time you call me here this week, Lionel," he muttered.
"I didn't know you kept count," the mayor said, casting the papers aside, stretching his neck and looking up at the officer.
"People will grow suspicious of our acquaintance if you keep sending for me," Forster deadpanned.
"That is why I called for you at four in the morning," Wilson answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Forster took a chair and went to sit before the mayor. Wilson took a cigar and lit it using one of the nearby candles while Forster poured a glass of whiskey. He enjoyed coming over to the mayor's house regardless; he boasted some of the best liquor collection in Hayes. "Why am I here?" he asked. It had to be serious. Unless Cullen had attacked him, Wilson rarely called him so often.
Wilson sighed to the captain as he put the lit cigar between his lips and drew a deep breath. Forster kept his stern expression, seeing Wilson's eyes dart from the papers on his desk to Forster's forehead, examining the ugly scar. "The execution is in two days."
"You don't have to remind me."
"There is a problem," Wilson continued.
"Collins?"
The fat man made a grimace and waved with his hand. "No, not him. Him we have where we want, for now. As you know, every year, the Cabinet in Safeira sends out representatives in accordance with His Majesty to inspect the towns," Wilson explained.
"Of course," Forster nodded. He had been there to welcome the representant since taking over as captain. "I know, but it will be months until they send the representative here. We had the inspection done in November."
Wilson leaned forward and, for the first time, Forster noted the slight hint of worry. It unnerved him as well. "They are pushing it forward," Wilson said. "The letter was delayed, I got the news just now."
"Maybe we should hold off on executing those prisoners, then."
"It's not because of these prisoners!" the mayor barked. "The man they are sending is Willard Athar!"
"Oscar isn't coming?" Forster paled. The man who had been coming the last few times had been easier than most to bribe to keep quiet about Hayes and the false records they kept in Town Hall.
"No. And this new type will bring problems to us," Wilson muttered under his breath. "Willard's brother is John Athar, the bloody Duke of Cantabria. And Mr. Willard is good friends with General Beckett and Adams!"
Forster clenched his fists. "The same General Beckett who approved of the revolt up north?"
"The very same. John Athar is a known sympathizer for the supposed plight of the people. Someone has been pulling strings to send his younger brother here," the mayor explained in a rushed manner, his eyes darting about. "Wouldn't surprise me if that bloody Ridge wrote out to his office in a plea." Wilson slammed down his closed fist on the desk. "If that bastard gets here so close to this execution, we might not be able to subdue the people… He could end me!" Wilson kept muttering to himself.
Forster's eyes darkened. "We show weakness if we cancel the execution."
"I know that!"
Forster leaned forward. "We will deal with him, sir," he said in low tones. "Just like we dealt with Count Newton."
"This is different. Newton wasn't missed by anyone. The name Athar is one of the most powerful ones in Angloa! We need to tread with caution."
"What is your plan?"
"We follow the plan and deal with Athar when he comes. We will not stop this execution."
"He doesn't sound like the type to be bribed, sir," the captain argued. He knew what he enjoyed: taking lives. Taking the life of a nobleman was even more exciting.
"For everything else, Cullen has been a nuisance," Wilson sighed. "But we might use him now to our benefit."
Forster curled his lips as a bloodthirsty look emerged from his eyes. "We kill Athar and blame it on Cullen? Brilliant, sir," he leered. "However, I doubt Collins would approve."
"Collins? As soon as we take down Cullen and Athar, that man is meeting the same fate as Captain Clarke," Wilson chuckled.
A/N: So I've been listening to the soundtrack from GoT season 8 (MAYBE SPOILERS?) Damn it's freaking melancholic...Ramin Djawadi should get an Emmy for his amazing work on the series (not to mention the actors, I shall not speak of what the writers did on the last season however :l )
I'm beyond amazed at seeing so many more people reviewing on the latest chapters! I want you to know that I read each and every one of them and truly appreciate them :) I am keeping busy with a new job (yay, fresh outta uni!) now so I'm coming home exhausted, barely enough strength to proofread the new chapters before posting them (thank GOD I have finished writing this fic! ;))