AUDEAMUS
Chapter 30
Past the swaying meadows, bathed in silver starlight, rushed an ensemble of elegant carriages. They passed through the rolling green hills of Cadherra. The air within them was stiff, tense. The stars twinkled faintly outside as the Masens, Swans, McCartys, and Hales all traveled to Wilson's estate together.
Bella sat squished next to her husband-to-be, the interior of the elegant vehicle subdued, muted, serious. Her heart hammered in such a frantic way that she was certain it would break free from her chest.
This was the night.
The night Wilson got his due.
After his scheming in the shadows, after the murder of Maria and Lucas, justice would now get him in the form of Jacob, Billy Black, and Willard Athar.
Flickering chocolate eyes stared out the opened window, their owner inhaling the scent of the eve. She watched the early flowers bloom as the perfumed night beckoned. Her hands balled into fists and she took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself.
The soft white cotton of her close-bodied gown felt restrictive. She cast an eye at the small embroidered flowers in muted reds and blues that sparsely dotted her skirt and outlined her bodice. A sudden warmth befell her clutched hand as another, larger hand, enveloped hers. Startled she darted up, looking frantically to her side, only to be met by Edward's calming forest greens. He gently squeezed her hand, a small and affectionate gesture that felt more intimate than the most passionate of kisses. He sent her a glance, wordless yet so full of meaning. Carlisle watched his son and soon to be daughter-in-law. He saw the look Edward sent Bella's way. He saw the way she looked back, the way her eyes sparkled and opened to him.
He saw love.
And Carlisle understood that between Bella Swan and Edward Masen had been an affection taking root long before they had urged them to marry. There was something—a silent understanding—neither had bothered to disclose to their families.
Hidden by the fold of her skirts, Bella and Edward entwined their fingers and the action calmed them both. She said a silent prayer, hoping that nothing would happen to him on this night, that he would remain unharmed come what may.
Warm lights glowed in the distance as they approached Wilson's estate. People had traveled all the way from Coldwick; the neighboring harbor city to the east. All the fine folk of Hayes was there as well as some rich merchants from Zafra. It was to be the feast of the season, as Wilson had put it.
The picturesque estate stood out against the rolling green hills, bathed in the nightlight, mixing with the gold that shone from its interior. The families were set to arrive late upon Carlisle's request. He traveled with his wife Esmeralda, Isabella Swan, and Edward Masen. His other children and Bella's parents shared two other carriages. Carlisle wished to spend as little time at Wilson's as possible, knowing it would be easier to slip away the moment they arrived rather than making up an excuse during some brief conversation.
The carriage stopped abruptly before the front gates, the iron twisting like the vines of ivy which hugged the outer walls. The wisteria bloomed everywhere and added to the perfume of the night, almost obscuring the entrance with purples and whites raining down in a cascade as they walked through the elegant front gate.
Bella was escorted by Edward as their engagement was official and their wedding was set for the coming month. While she wore an elegant gown in white, Edward dressed in more muted colors. His hair was pushed back, yet he still had the high cravat for such an extravagant occasion. The powder and rouge were gone. His frock was a dark emerald green, matching his eyes very well. His waistcoat was beige, matching his breeches. There were some rings on his fingers and golden buckles on his shoes. He had still not fully foregone his foppish persona. But together they looked the ultimate perfect match. The moment they were announced at the top of the stairs, they caught the attention of most of the guests.
Bella held her breath as she clung to Edward's arm. He leaned slightly to her, keeping the same arrogant look plastered on his face.
"Thus, the show begins," he growled in that familiar voice he always used as Cullen. It caused a flush in her, for that tone always stirred something in the lower part of her abdomen.
They walked down the full length of the stairs, receiving curious glances and whispers. Someone walked through the vast mass of people occupying the very large outer patio. When Bella saw Wilson she tensed, her hand clutching onto him harder than she should have. She reminded herself that he was still sore in his side after the shot he had received.
The plump and chubby man stepped forward, his eyes creasing at the edges, his wig perfectly powdered on his head and the buttons of his cream-colored silken frock looking about ready to burst off. "Ah, Mr. Masen!" he stated as he caught sight of Edward. Another man soon followed him; Bella recognized him as Willard Athar. Wilson peered past Edward's shoulder as he caught sight of Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett, Renée, and Charles all walking down the same stairs. "Where, pray, are your dear parents?" he asked.
Edward settled down, leaning on his right leg and arrogantly arching an eyebrow. "My good mayor, it would seem my father had a certain ah need for the powder room," he leaned forward to say. "Not that I can blame him, we were already dastardly late, and he urged the drivers to rush." His voice still had some nasality to it, but it wasn't as forced as before. "I cannot fathom why he should stress so." Aye, but the arrogance was still there.
Wilson arched an eyebrow, taking in the sight of Edward and then of Bella. "I believe congratulations are in order?" he said with a small hint of hesitance. When Edward kept from answering, Wilson stepped aside and urged Willard to join them. "I do not know if you've had the pleasure of meeting Sir Athar?"
"Why indeed I have not, Mr. Wilson," Edward turned to Athar and gave a small bow as Bella curtsied, soon joined by the rest of the extended family. "Tis good to make your acquaintance, sir. I have briefly met your older brother once or twice in Safeira."
Athar stepped forward with a frown. It seemed even in a remote town such as Hayes, the dandies still flourished. "Cadherra…agrees with you, Mr. Masen?" he wondered, eyes flickering past the rest of the extended family until resting on Isabella Swan; his rather charming fiancée. The match, Athar frowned, seemed unfavorable for the young woman.
"It isn't my beloved London, or Safeira," Edward leaned in with a sigh. "But some parts of this county are…tolerable, I suppose."
"You do Cadherra an injustice," Wilson stepped in to add. "Aye, it may not be the elegant saloons of Safeira or the bustling metropolis of London, but it is quaint and welcoming."
"Really now, Mr. Wilson, 'twould rather seem we find ourselves stranded in the untamed wildernesses between great cities. Hayes has grown to become an untamed frontier where lawless men and ruffians can come and go as they please," Edward chuckled with a dandyish air. Bella squeezed his arm, feeling he had gone too far.
"The rebels and bandits have been dealt with, Mr. Masen. Those who are not dead have left running with their tails between their legs," a dark voice came from the left. Bella froze instantly on her fiancé's arm, recognizing those smooth tones.
Collins neared them with an assuredness in his step. He had gotten his appearance in order since the last time she had seen him. His blond hair was neatly gathered at the nape of his neck, his face clean-shaven. His military uniform looked impeccable and the medals on his breast shone to perfection, as well as the polished boots ending just below the knee.
Yet, his eyes, that she had found so kind and alluring before, were now two icy depths that caused a shiver in her. The friendliness was gone, replaced by something cold and calculating, a wall of indifference and seething anger working beneath the surface. She sensed Edward grow tense next to her, how his muscles worked under her clutching hand.
"Are you certain of that, Collins?" His voice lost its arrogance and, while faint, gained a rougher edge as it dropped a few tones. Had she not known to listen; she would never have noticed it. The tension between both men grew further as the energy in the room darkened. Around them, laughter, music, and alcohol flowed as freely as the conversations that accompanied them. But between Edward and James raged a silent war that few were aware of—maybe none but Bella herself. She squared her jaw and held his arm in a stronger grip.
Collins stepped toward Edward. "Aye, Masen. I am certain, for the day Cullen attacked the garrison, I saw the bullet hit him. He is nothing but a man of flesh and blood. Like you and me." A snarl had worked its way onto the otherwise handsome features. Edward had further dropped his act as his emerald eyes sent daggers Collins' way.
Bella's heart was working twice as quickly as she frantically glanced between both men. Was Collins acting this way because of their engagement, because she had abandoned him, or was he acting this way because he…knew?
"Edward, brother dear, I am certain you will have more stimulating conversation with the major this evening, but did you not promise me we would have the third dance? I hear new music playing and you told me you had been practicing," Rosalie exclaimed in an irritated tone behind the couple.
Edward regressed to his foppish persona within the second of his sister's words. He leaned back and relaxed his shoulders as he settled into the strange hunched form that she was so used to seeing him in, making sure his nose still pointed upward. "Oh my, how silly of me to forget," he drawled. "To promise myself away in such a careless manner. Gentlemen, I found this a most stimulating conversation, albeit a little redundant." He arched an eyebrow as he lazily let his eyes drift from Collins to Athar.
"I hope I shall see you more and speak with you more this evening Sir Athar. I long to hear from Safeira and the latest from London." He cast a glance Wilson's way. "You truly have outdone yourself this time, Mr. Wilson," he nodded in a long drawl. "You have my deepest approval." Edward sent a stiff nod Collins' way. "Isabella dear, I see some chairs over there. Let us go so that I may sit, the eve has just started yet I am already fatigued. If I shall dance with my sister, I will need to restore my energy." He turned to her. "While you are at it, could you get me a glass of port?" he asked as they started walking away from the ensemble.
Alice and Jasper quickly walked past the three men soon followed by a smiling Rosalie and a confused Emmett. Athar scratched his head, his brow frowning as he stared after Masen.
Wilson chuckled. "Always a funny one, that Masen."
Collins was still tense as he saw Bella on the arm of Masen. He flinched at the way that she gripped onto him. Was she truly in such a state that she could not even look at him? How melancholy did she have to be to be clinging to Masen for support?
Edward, disregarding his previous statement of feigned fatigue, led Bella to the dancefloor without saying a word. She graciously followed him, noting the tense muscles beneath the fabric of his coat. They lined up for the slow dance and started moving to the music; a slow Allemande. He kept her fixated with his intense emerald eyes, drawing her in as only he could.
He wanted to dance with her, show all in that room that she had chosen him, show what Collins had lost. He knew it was part pride, part jealousy that made him parade her before all to see. But he saw the true woman that she was, grew prideful that she accepted him, that he could make her blush, make her give him a shy smile as they kept dancing. Each time their hands touched; a jolt shocked through their limbs. Despite the current predicaments, both enjoyed that sole moment of intimacy in such an open setting.
When the Allemande was over, they hastened to the side, parted from scrutinizing eyes or curious looks. The violins played a romantic tune as they stepped out into the secluded back-gardens, parted from the main house. There they stood, amongst the swaying wisterias, with starlight softly cascading over them.
"I want you to remain close to your parents and mine the rest of the eve," he asked her as gently as he could, kissing the back of her hand.
Her brow furrowed as she leaned in. "Edward," her soft voice said. "If you allow anyone to harm you, I shall make sure you end up in the grave myself," she warned. But there was no playfulness in her chocolate eyes, only true worry.
What had been building during the early eve finally gave way as Edward let go of all propriety.
He pulled her in without a word and kissed her then and there. Bella placed her hands on his chest and melted beneath his lips. This felt right, this was right. It had always been him; it would always be him. The young couple let their feelings and passions slowly unravel in the deep kiss. He pulled her in further as his hand came around her waist to hug her close to him.
In a brief moment, all was forgotten. There was only their skin making contact, only the sounds of their agitated breaths as she thought she would come undone by the way he held her, by the way he kissed her.
However, they had grown careless, unaware that they were not alone. Alice and Jasper, who had gone out to the more excluded gardens for some privacy and air, were astonished at the scene before them.
They saw Edward, holding a melting Bella Swan in his embrace; their faces together, their eyes closed, framed by flowing purple, pink, and white wisteria bathed in silver light from the full moon and bright stars. When the kiss started turning more intimate, they decided it might be an opportune time to turn around. Alice, blushing madly at such a display of affection, had always believed Bella when she denied having spent the night with Edward. Alice had believed Edward as well. But there was something secret between the couple that they had never unveiled to anyone.
And, yet, while such a thing might anger some, it only made Alice's heart grow warm.
Bella had been keeping secrets from her about Edward. The blush subsided as her lips tugged into a faint smile. She turned to see that her husband was grinning as well.
"I… did not think he had it in him," Alice stuttered. "Sly bastard," she muttered, unable to stop the smile from growing. Oh, what a happy moment! Now she was assured that Bella truly hadn't felt forced into anything. From the looks of it, Bella truly cared a great deal for Edward!
"I suspect he shall astonish us more in the future," Jasper blinked. He too grew relieved, glad for the young couple.
Meanwhile, still bathing in the starlight, Edward pressed his forehead against Bella's, watching her lips intently as they had grown puffy after their prolonged kiss. He lovingly brushed the chestnut lock resting across her shoulder away as his emerald greens came up to meet her eyes.
"You are the most beautiful creature, Bella," he whispered in her ear with a silky-smooth voice that caused shivers through her.
She blushed and shied from such compliments. "Come now, Edward," she mumbled as her eyes cast down to her feet.
"Tis true, and you should hear such words every hour of the day." He lightly kissed the corner of her mouth. "When you wake up," he trailed down her jaw, slowly, teasingly. "When you escape to Raven's Grove." His mouth kept kissing its way down her neck. "When you soak the sun by the stream." Bella shut her eyes, exposing her neck to him. "When you go to bed."
"Keep saying such words, Masen, and I will never let you go," she murmured into him with a faint sigh. It caused a tug on his lips, a sad smile etching its way into his features. Aye, he would like nothing more than to remain there by her side.
"What?" he teased. "Are you requesting a serenade or a poem now from me?" He spread his hands and with a loud voice started chanting to her: "Here she stands, in the light of the moon: more lovely, more radiant than a morning in June."
The words caused Bella to let out a laugh despite herself, despite the situation as she playfully placed a hand against his chest at his silly yet enchanting words.
"With teeth like pearls, and lips of ruby," he continued when she did not stop him. "With eyes alluring and I think, truly…"
The playfulness was gone as his voice grew more tender, softer as he closed in again, running his thumb over her lips, watching them intently.
"You are the one I want by my side."
Bella nestled her head in the nook of his neck and closed her eyes as he settled into a whisper.
"To have and to hold, to take as my bride."
Edward Masen had never lied to her. He truly was a poet, for never had she heard such words before. "It seems you told the truth that evening at the promenade." She opened her eyes with a sigh.
"I never lied unless I truly had to." He still seemed bothered by his past actions.
She placed her arms around his neck. "I understand why you did it. I always will, Edward. I have no harbored ill-will against the secret you kept from me. It was a necessity."
He took a deep breath and stared at her more. He did not wish to go. He wished to remain there, in that perfect moment they had both found, a serenity with one another.
When he shifted, she knew it was time for them to part ways. Something—an omen—gripped the depths of her soul, tendrils puncturing her heart as she fought not to show the fear she truly felt for him.
"Remember what I told you and remain out of harm's way."
"I know." She understood the severity of the situation. Intense eyes regarded her for a while longer before disappearing into the fold of the night.
Carlisle Masen stood speaking with Charles Swan and his wife. Esmeralda was off to the side in an interesting conversation with Jessica Stanley and her mother. There was no gossip this time, but a façade for they all felt the tension in the air, they all had heard the rumors. In fact, most at the ball had heard the gossip concerning Wilson. They kept wary, not wishing to give away their knowledge if it proved to be truthful.
Willard Athar was in a stiff conversation with Major Collins and Captain Forster. Both officers turned many faces sour. Yet, the splendor of the eve caught up with most. The music, the alcohol, and the soft breeze of summer served to lighten the mood. Wilson seemed his usual jolly self, surrounded by most of his friends. Charles, after much consideration, had decided against nearing who he had considered a friend on this eve. He needed to know if the rumors surrounding Wilson were truthful or merely slanderous gossip.
Suddenly, the clinking of glass extended itself as Wilson took center stage. The music died down and the dancefloor was emptied as he walked to the center with a half-filled glass of port.
"Friends, ladies, and gentlemen!" he started in a jovial tone. Dark rings of sweat already appeared under the armpits of his green coat which was much in the same fashion as the military coats. Was he making a statement? Some people did wonder. His wig was white for the evening, a few tight curls framing his chubby face, the color of his skin already a tone redder due to the stifling heat and his consumption of alcohol. He had unbuttoned some of the golden buttons of his coat, easing the pressure on the poor fabric. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to this summer ball!"
Applause quickly followed such a statement. At that exact time, Bella Swan discreetly entered the room and went to stand next to her parents. Alice was not too far away. She stretched her neck, trying to see if Edward was with her, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"I wish to clear some things before we continue this lovely evening. First and foremost, I wish to speak of these horrendous rumors that have been flying around about me." He arched an eyebrow when some stifled gasps were uttered. "Yes, my good friends, I have not been living under a rock and been privy to the same slanderous gossip. Now," he continued, his free hand moving casually with his speech. Wilson settled into character, comfortable with being the center of attention. "I do not know where such accusations stem from, but I give you my word that such gossip is entirely false. But, of course, I know you would not trust the very man who stood accused before you. Thus, I have complied with the wishes of the capital as they have sent a very honorable man to do the inspection of this town. Sir Athar, will you not step forth?" Wilson asked as he turned to the taller man.
Athar leaned elegantly—if such a thing was possible—against one of the tall beams carrying up the gallery that extended itself along the inner wall. He had pushed the graying hair away from his face and the wrinkles around his stiff features grew deeper as he regarded Wilson as if some sort of nuisance had befallen him. The gray-green eyes quickly fleeted up to the opposite end, to the other gallery where the wide staircase started. He unpeeled himself from the pillar and slowly made his way to the center of the floor. Athar stood next to Wilson and it was like night and day personified. Both were public servants yet so different. Athar was taller, much taller, elegant and almost snobbish in his countenance. And there was an air of not just arrogance, but poise in his bearing. He did not appear as foppish as Edward Masen. But his arched eyebrow screamed in protest as he placed himself next to Wilson.
"Sir Athar, these good people will have the honor of being the first to hear your report before you send it tomorrow to Safeira," Wilson smiled.
Athar looked at Wilson. His eyes quickly darted about the room. When he caught sight of something, he seemed to relax his tense shoulders. He turned to Wilson once more and a faint look of disgust managed to break through his carefully crafted mask.
"Indeed, I shall be glad to inform them, Mr. Wilson." He turned to the crowd and at the same time, Wilson realized something was wrong. Carlisle Masen grew tense next to his wife as he eyed the officers, wondering if they had noticed what was about to happen.
Wilson kept sending Forster glances, but either the fool ignored him, or he wished to see what was about to unfold.
"I was sent here by request of the government of Angloa and even on the request of the crown to reinspect this town. Allegations had been made, allegations that are nothing compared to what I have found." He turned to Wilson. "Tax fraud and supposed murders, Mr. Wilson. It's very serious."
Wilson's façade slipped away, and his true self slowly but surely started slipping through the cracks before he quickly took control of his feelings. Bella caught a glimpse of the rage and hatred in his eyes, the poison that resided in them. And she was not the only one. She felt her mouth open as she saw the angelic face of the mayor turn into a devilish one for a split second.
"Really now?" Wilson said, quickly recomposing himself. "And who, pray tell, has committed these things?"
Athar settled to the side. "Well, my good man, you have."
A buzzing murmur fleeted through the crowd.
"How dare you!" Wilson exclaimed. He truly looked shocked and hurt for he had not expected things to play out in such a way. Did he not have it on good authority that Athar was in his pockets? "I would never!"
Captain Forster started nearing Athar, but the latter looked completely unafraid of the scarred officer.
"Shall we analyze the evidence?" Athar asked. He looked to the back. "For you did bring it, did you not, Mr. Black?"
And, indeed, through the elegantly dressed crowd streamed the followers of Cullen, a harsh contrast to the finery of the eve. For they were ill-dressed, in rags, dirty, hardened and tough to look upon. And the most hardened of them all seemed to be Jacob Black as he stepped forth, flanked by his right-hand man, Jonah. Cullen was gone, but they would finish what he started. Jacob dressed in the same black colors, honoring the fallen. He walked up to Athar and Wilson without a word, his features twisted into a grim frown and a resoluteness that he had an important quest to finish.
"Lancers!" Forster suddenly exclaimed as Collins drew his sword. But Jonah jumped forth with two loaded and cocked guns, a grin splitting his face in half.
"Our men have your lancers out in the back. Did you really think you were safe because Cullen is dead?" Jonah asked.
Collins growled, squeezing the hilt of his sword. But Forster had a much more sinister look plastered on his features.
"You will let Mr. Black give Sir Athar the evidence," Jonah continued. However, his hands were shaking slightly, almost eager to pull the trigger when he locked eyes with Forster. A snarl on the captain's face told the same; that he couldn't wait to draw his own weapon.
The crowd was growing restless, yet the men from Raven's Grove, those who had previously been their neighbors, did much in calming them. Bella held onto her parents, holding her breath with the rest of the guests, hoping that this would take down Wilson once and for all.
"Mr. Black, your evidence?" Athar continued.
"This is highly inappropriate!" Wilson exclaimed. "You cannot wildly throw accusations and start proceedings that have the same intentions as a hearing, nay a damned trial! This is not the townhouse, there is no jurisdiction here!" the disgruntled mayor kept going. He knew his provincial law well.
Athar smiled. "Good sir, you have made a very astute remark. Yes, this is not the town hall as we can all see. Yes, there are also no judges while we proceed to treat this as a hearing. But I am not just an official of the government of Angloa. I am, among other things, a magistrate. I have judicial authority to conduct a hearing or trial if I feel the situation calls for it. I have worked at the office of Internal Affairs, and this is exactly what we dealt with. Murders, extortions, blackmail—my good Wilson I would say this situation indeed calls for it, wouldn't you?"
"This cannot be a hearing! The accused has not had time to prepare a defense!"
"Under certain circumstances, I would agree. But considering that those men who have gathered evidence against you are now dead; Lucas Ridge, Lord Newton, Maria Haste, and even Captain Clarke, I would say we could bend the rules. Fear not, Wilson. If I find you guilty here, you will be able to go to the Supreme Court in Safeira to overrule anything judged here. As I have said, this is a hearing, not a trial," Athar said. Such words seemed to calm Wilson a great deal. It appeared he was certain he would win against the Supreme Court, yet a part of him knew his name would be tainted forever.
When the mayor remained quiet, Jacob stepped forward. "I hold in my hand," he said as he turned to the public, "a folder with some essential accounts from 1792 to 1793. In these accounts, it is stated that Hayes during those years had officially been taxed a smaller amount than was considered usual at the time. Officially, ladies and gentlemen. In this folder are also accounts detailing Captain Forster's personal records of the same years that show two things. Firstly, Captain Forster does not pay taxes and taxes are not omitted from his salary. They further show that his official salary does not match the amount present in his spending. Secondly, Mayor Wilson, like the good captain, also has an official salary that does not match his spending. He overspends by eight times more than what he earns. Ladies and gentlemen take a good look at this refurbished estate, it has been paid with your overtaxed money," Jacob stated dryly with an extended hand.
Loud gasps and offensive comments started being hurled Wilson's way. But the plump mayor was silent, letting Jacob finish. Forster and Jonah still sent each other death stares while Collins gritted his teeth, unaware of what he should do next. Should he remain by Wilson's side or perhaps try to help Black? Either way, he would not end up the winning man. He had come so far; he had built a nice life and career. He did not wish for it to end, not now.
"Furthermore," Jacob continued. "This folder also has some letters of a lengthy correspondence between Mayor Wilson and Captain Forster during the year of 1794, right until my father, Billy Black, was arrested. It is written in their hands and will prove the terror these two men and their accomplices in Hayes have reigned on this town." He turned to Wilson, pointing an accusing finger. "This information—all this evidence—was possible thanks to the hard work of one man who lost his life at your hands or Forster's hands, Wilson. And you had the indecency to claim his death was a suicide. Lucas Ridge would have taken you down, and you know it!"
Jacob had finished his speech, gripping the folder as Athar gently pried it away from his hand. He turned to Wilson. "Well, sir?"
Wilson looked at both men and then at the angry faces in the crowd. He scanned the interior of his estate, looked at the disgruntled men from Raven's Grove and then broke out into a lighthearted chuckle. "Oh, this is too good, this is," he laughed as he dried away a rogue tear. "You call this evidence?" he asked through the spurts of laughter.
Athar kept a stoic façade but Jacob growled. "It's enough to send you to the hangman's noose!"
"What? Some accounts, boy? Those can be faked, at best! Some letters? Have you ever heard of forged handwriting? People who are so good at copying someone's handwriting that it is practically impossible to tell them apart. Nay, all of this could well be forged, a set-up." Wilson turned to the crowd. "Politicians, corrupt officials like Athar here who wish to take me down; the only protection you truly have. What happens when I am gone? You think it will be better? You will be open to the wolves of Safeira—"
"Lies!" Jacob spat. "You lie!"
"There is no evidence!" Wilson shouted back. "No evidence that would be accepted at any other trial or hearing. This is a set-up." The murmurs now rose in the crowd. Bella paled as she heard some once more switching sides to join Wilson. True, they had not gotten the full picture of what kind of a man he was.
"And what is this accusation that I murdered poor Mr. Ridge?" asked Wilson. "I do regret his passing, but finding a scapegoat will not bring him back," he told the crowd, disregarding Athar and Jacob completely. This was what Athar was afraid of. They did hold true evidence, but Wilson's ability to twist the situation in his favor, to speak to the crowd, had proven in his favor once more. And if he regained control of the situation, they were done for. Wilson turned to Athar and Jacob. "I do not suppose you have any witnesses?" he asked while arching an eyebrow.
Jacob and Athar crossed eyes, Jacob almost looking desperate. "No, there are no witnesses that I know of," Athar acknowledged. He knew he would be paying dearly for this little trick and he suspected not even his brother, the Grand Duke of Cantabria, would be able to help him.
Wilson looked satisfied. Bella gritted her teeth and sprung out from the crowd. "But there is substantial evidence!" she exclaimed. "We as a town are more than enough to attest to Mr. Ridge's good character.
"Bella!" Renée shouted for her daughter.
"Get back!" her father joined through gritted teeth. His face was quickly becoming flustered as his anger and worry for her safety rose.
She ignored her parents and thus also ignored what Edward had told her earlier. "We all knew Lucas burned for the law. He would never give up, not even when he lost Billy Black's case. He was adamant on fighting for his freedom." Bella pointed an accusing finger at Forster. "That man is no Royal Guard, for he does not stand for that uniform. He stole our identity, he bestowed fear on us as a town, he belittled us when he could because we all know it made him feel good." She took a step toward Forster, her back facing the shadows of the gallery. "We all know his involvement in this to be true!"
"Ah, the gullible youth," Wilson smiled sadly. "Miss Swan, while your intentions to clear Mr. Ridge's name are noble, I am afraid casting all blame on Forster will not help—"
She turned to him with a disgusted look on her face. "I cleaned out his apartments almost a month after his passing and happened upon his suicide note. A note, ladies and gentlemen, written in a neat handwriting. Yet he began by saying that he wrote "in haste", how can that be when we all knew that not even Ridge himself could read half of what he wrote when he tried? He was coerced to write that note. And knowing he would die, he tried to leave clues for anyone in case they happened upon that note."
Her words made sense. "Aye, but do you have this note on you, Miss Swan?" Wilson asked.
"I…no, not here," she confessed.
He shrugged his shoulders. "What then? We wait here for someone to ride to your house, explain to your servants that they must find said note in your chambers and return, only for us to arrive at the same conclusion? You had that note in your possession all this time. While the wording may be the same, it does not prove it was actually Lucas Ridge who wrote it. Again, it could be forged. And as you said, if it is as unbelievable as you thought it to be, then someone most likely planted that note there for you to find and believe to be evidence. Maybe his maid?"
Suddenly Bella smirked. "I never said his maid was with me as I cleaned."
The whispers in the crowd grew with vigor as Wilson stumbled on his words. Jacob smirked, proud of his friend.
"Was it not a well-known fact that Miss Haste frequented Mr. Ridge's old lodgings often?" Captain Forster spat, momentarily breaking eye contact with Jonah. "Why would it be strange of Mr. Wilson to assume she was there? How else would you have gotten in? Unless, of course, you entered without permission."
"In that case, you would have broken the law, Miss Swan," Wilson was quick to intercede.
"We are not here to condemn Miss Swan," Carlisle Masen shouted from the crowd. "We are here to see justice against those who would oppress Hayes and her citizens." Many cheered at such a statement.
Wilson got into a huff and overpowered the loud chatter with his booming voice, contradicting the situation. He was angry, seemed offended and played the part beautifully. Collins was all astonishment at how Wilson managed to seem so insulted and wounded; like he was actually innocent. And then and there, many started realizing that Wilson would turn the situation around. There would be no justice through the law, not today. Wilson would manage to persuade those he needed to persuade. And once he had the upper hand, those who really knew who he was would be silently dealt with one by one. While Athar remained stoic before such a notion, Jonah and Jacob started losing hope.
Until another sound overpowered Wilson's voice.
Sardonic claps.
Teasingly slow, dripping with indifferent sarcasm. It could be felt, oozing from the darkness as a darker silhouette stood out. Many felt a chill through their spines as they squinted their eyes at the figure.
The shadow unpeeled itself from the wall under the gallery and Bella instantly fought hard not to smile. They all watched in silence as he neared with slow, impactful steps.
The figure held the attention of the entire ballroom, no one daring to breathe as he stepped out from the shadows.
Edward Cullen stood close to Bella, facing Wilson and the half-circle of the crowd, his back to Forster and Collins.
"Y-y-y-you—" Wilson began, his frame shaking. Forster and Collins had assured him that Cullen was dead, they had seen him been shot! Bella reveled in the sight of a frightened Wilson, for it seemed only the man in black managed to instill some sort of fear in him.
Cullen tilted his head to the side, his eyes kept regarding Wilson mockingly, with a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Did you really think a large crowd would keep me away?" he asked. "I'm offended, Wilson." He spread his hands in a showing gesture. "You have almost all of Hayes here, yet I didn't get an invitation?"
"But you were—you were—d-d-dead!" Wilson shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at him in total disbelief.
"Then why am I standing here?" Cullen asked. He turned to the nearest person, who so happened to be Bella Swan. "It seems the good mayor has lost his senses, madam," he blinked her way.
Her lips spread in a wicked grin as she got a wonderful idea. She kept staring straight ahead as if looking past Cullen.
"W-w-well answer him!" Wilson exclaimed.
Bella turned to him and frowned. "Answer who?" she asked and furrowed her brow. "Sir Athar?" she asked.
Athar, understanding where she was going, now let the mask break and joined in. "I haven't the foggiest to whom he is referring to, Miss Swan."
"But he is right there!" Wilson shouted, forcefully pointing at the tall, shadowy figure. "There, right there next to Miss Swan! How can you not see him?"
More, mainly Cullen's followers, started joining in from the crowd. "Man's gone mad! I can't see anyone next to Miss Swan unless he refers to Sir Athar!" When the rest of the crowd started seeing the fear present in Wilson—how the cocky and confident mayor washed away—they too couldn't help themselves and joined in.
"Liars! You see him, all of you!" Forster growled. "I see him, sir!"
Collins kept his mouth shut.
"Maybe I am a ghost, eh, Wilson?" Cullen blinked playfully as the amusement in his eyes increased. "Returned from the grave your men sent me to, here to haunt you?" He was clearly enjoying every second.
Wilson had never believed the man to be a ghost, but now he was uncertain. He knew of his own crimes and Forster's involvement in them. Then…was that why only they could see him? No! Wilson shook his head forcefully.
"I am not going mad!" He pointed once more at Cullen, nearing him, disregarding his previous fears in an attempt to prove himself. "And I shall prove it." He rushed to the man in the mask and placed his index finger right on his chest. "See, I am touching him!" he exclaimed triumphantly.
Now they had all gone white at his action, even Bella grew unsettled once she saw the fire burning in Edward's eyes.
"Maybe," the masked man leaned forward to growl into Wilson's ear. "Maybe I am no ghost, sir." Wilson licked his lips as pearls of sweat dripped from his temples. "Maybe I am something worse."
"This is preposterous!" Forster growled, trying to rush to Cullen. But, alas, he was promptly stopped by Jonah.
"Give me one reason, Forster, and I shoot," the other snarled back. "Which is more than you deserve!"
"I touched him!" Wilson stammered, slowly regaining composure as he retook control of the situation, backing away from the frightening man. "T-this here is just a glorified bandit." However, Wilson's wavering voice did not sound as certain as he wished it to be.
Edward sighed; it seemed their little fun was over.
Before Wilson could reply, Edward interrupted him. "Well, it seems I've been unmasked," he responded in a sardonic way. "Even with the most foolproof evidence one could ask for, Wilson, I suspected you might turn the situation to your favor." Edward's voice had dropped any hint of amusement now. It dripped with dangerous intent. "Be glad there is a witness, or I would eventually have been forced to deal with you in another way," he whispered only for Wilson to hear.
Then, the man in black turned to Athar. "I have your witness," he stated for all to hear.
"I am…in your debt sir, but there…are no witnesses from what I understand," Athar said with furrowed eyebrows.
Cullen turned to the shadows, his left arm stretching out in a friendly motion as he called out a name. "Michael, if you please."
Bella noted Jessica Stanley leaning forward in anticipation as another figure stepped out.
He had a pale complexion and pale blond hair. A set of dulled blue eyes regarded the crowd as if he had lived through more than he should have at such a young age. He couldn't have been more than his early twenties. He wore the habit of a friar, the same habit the friars at St. Nicholas would wear.
"Will you tell them your name and how it is you are here today?" Cullen asked as the man came to stand next to him. He seemed timid at the sight of such a crowd but grew a fire within when he caught sight of Wilson.
"My name is Michael Edmund Newton and I am the firstborn of Lord Newton and his only surviving heir," he said in a clear, soft tone. It shook with loaded emotion. "This man," he said as he pointed at Wilson, "had my father murdered in his own home two years ago. I know, for I saw it as I hid behind some curtains. And that man," he said pointing at Forster, "was the one who did the deed."
Complete and utter silence cut through the room with such loaded tension and emotion that no one dared to break it.
"This looks bad for Mr. Wilson, does it not Athar?" Cullen's rich booming voice suddenly asked.
"Why have you not reported this previously?" Athar asked as he turned to Michael.
"This Wilson fellow arrived in Hayes more than two years ago under another name, not wishing to be recognized. He went to my father, first trying to bribe him to put in a good word with the council for the position of mayor. Then he resorted to blackmail. When my father did not comply, he had his accomplice, Captain Forster who was nothing more than a blackguard at the time, stab him several times to death. I was in the same room; I heard my father choke on his own blood." Michael stopped, a hollow look spreading in his eyes. He shook his head and continued.
"Both men saw me, and I had to jump out the window, hearing their horses run after me, trying to get me. They lost me as I was rescued by Friar Blackwood and Friar Nathan and taken to St. Nicholas. I had broken bones and turned feverish. My recovery was a slow one and the first few months I had repressed the memory of the event. I never told them who I was as they never recognized me—or they never acknowledged who I was. They only thing they saw was a man in need of sanctuary which they eventually extended indefinitely. I felt safe at St. Nicholas. The area where I spent most of my time was enclosed from the rest of the church. I didn't have to interact with anyone else. No one went there, I wasn't disturbed."
"And what of this talk, that your father was sighted in Safeira or Wessport? Never bothering to come here?" Athar continued.
"Propaganda placed here by Mr. Wilson. He eventually must have bribed some men on the provincial council and got his post as mayor. I thought I would be stranded in St. Nicholas for the rest of my life. When news of Captain Clarke's death reached me, I knew instantly it was Forster and Wilson, but I was too afraid to speak. When I heard of the taxations—the way they tainted my father's and family's name—I almost took a sword and set out to fight. But I knew I would never win against that man." The snarl on Michael's face alone was enough to mirror what most there felt about Wilson and Forster.
"I understood he had a hand in Mr. Ridge's and Miss Haste's deaths as well," Michael finished.
"This is all very entertaining!" Wilson said flustered. He had removed himself from Cullen, now entirely guarded against him. His eyes kept shifting to the back of the ballroom. "But even this could be fabricated to taint my good name! How many of you knew this Michael Newton even existed?"
Bella and Jacob's eyes locked momentarily. They knew of a son that Lord Newton had, but he spent a lot of time in France and England, where he had been schooled. They had never seen him. It was said he would come some summers and spend them in Adelton Hall, but mostly they suspected he must have either passed his time in Safeira or Wessport.
"There are many who can attest to my identity," Michael defended calmly. "Mrs. Berg for starters, for in my adolescence I would slip into her tavern and ask for drinks that no teenager should drink. Mr. Simmons to continue, for we would play chess in Adelton sometimes. I…kept away mostly from polite society as I believed it to be similar to that of Safeira or Wessport. I…do not enjoy that lifestyle," he admitted.
Athar nodded. "We shall have Mrs. Berg and Mr. Simmons confirm this young man's identity, but it all seems rather clear to me. We have our witness, our extensive evidence and our—"
Suddenly, lancers streamed into the room and the crowd dispersed with frightened shouts. Jonah fired his gun but missed Forster by an inch as Collins dragged him to the side. Before she could react, Bella was taken into the fold of Edward's arms as he protectively held her against himself. Her breath was stuck in her throat as she saw the events unravel. The lancers Jacob's men had taken out must have come too and not been properly supervised.
"Secure Wilson, forget about Forster for now!" Edward shouted commands. He pointed at more people in the crowd. "I will soon join you," he shouted through the chaos. He received a stiff nod from Jacob. Michael's eyes were wide, but he seemed ready to defend himself, as did Athar. While Jonah and Forster were in an open fistfight, Collins had carefully slipped to the back, trying to discern the situation. His eyes were completely locked on Cullen, noting the way he so familiarly held Bella against his chest. It made his blood boil.
Edward turned to Athar and Michael. "You need to get to Lucy's tavern. She will keep you safe there. I will join you there, there are too many lancers and the situation has grown too chaotic. They must have gathered more men from the garrison!"
Athar gave a stiff nod as he and Newton fled with Jacob, forcing Wilson in tow. Wilson growled, trying in vain to break free from the three men which pulled and tugged him, with threats and closed fists to his face. "We follow the plan!" he shouted out like a madman in no general direction. "We follow the plan!" he shrieked as loudly as he could.
Edward took Bella's hand in his and started running for the front. "Where are we going?" she shouted after him, still not over the screams and shock. She saw multiple men who fought for Edward and Jacob stay behind, fighting off the corrupted lancers.
"Getting you to safety!" he told her.
She ran after him, readjusting her hand so it was gripping his as well. Bella was afraid, but now was not the time to show it. They stopped for a faint moment as a group of three lancers caught the sight of Edward Cullen. Like crazed animals, they rushed for them and Edward pushed Bella to the side as he quickly and skillfully fought the men off. But she still saw them manage to get a few blows here and there. She gasped when she saw that one of them hit him hard in the side. Had he removed his stitches? Surely—more than a week after the shot—his wound would not open now, would it? But she remembered how Dr. Blake had had to cut into it, make it larger. She saw Edward wince heftily as he fought more fiercely against the soldiers.
Once they were out of danger, she ran up to him, her hands instinctively running to inspect his side. "Did they get it? Did it tear open?" she asked, feeling the dampness of the black shirt beneath her fingers and staring in horror at her red fingertips.
"Tis nothing, only the stitches," he grunted. "Come, we've no time!"
"I…I cannot let you do this, Edward!" she lashed out. "What if you die?" Her eyes were glazed over with unshed tears.
He took her hand. "I need that determined young woman that used to insult me and bicker with me. I need her cool head and calm presence, please," he pleaded.
Amidst all the chaos, hearing the clanking of metal weapons and shots fired everywhere, she found a calm with him and nodded, quickly forcing the tears back. He smiled back and they were about to continue when another figure now stopped them.
Collins stared wide-eyed at the couple with rage boiling at the sight of Cullen. He gripped the sword so tightly in his hand that part of the handle almost bruised his skin. Bella knew they would duel, and it would not be a friendly sparring.
Edward had no weapon.
"You would kill an unarmed man, Collins?" Cullen asked as he swiftly placed himself between Bella and Collins.
Collins took a fighting position. "I do not know," he murmured, something fleeting in his eyes as he looked at Bella. It wasn't between doing the right thing or following Wilson anymore. It was about one man which he had decided to place all the blame on. The way Collins saw it, everything had gone downhill in his life the moment Edward Cullen entered it. Placing the blame on the masked man was easier than recognizing his own faults.
Bella backed until she reached the heap of lancers, noting that one had a sheathed sword which he had not used during the fight. As Edward distracted Collins, she kneeled and picked it up, unsheathing it.
"You're helping him now?" Collins asked Bella, betrayal now prominent in his eyes. A sense that he had given up mixed with other harsh feelings.
"You could let us go," she told him, handing Edward the saber. Edward was in no condition to fight, he was already exhausted from the previous one, his wound had slightly reopened, and he was out of breath.
"I cannot do that," Collins replied, steeling himself for the confrontation. "I will not do that."
Then the clash of swords rung like the bells of St. Nicholas.
They were fast.
Very fast.
Bella felt herself once more pushed to the side as the two blades crossed. Both fought to kill, and she saw true hatred in their eyes, surprised to find it in Edward's countenance as well. He, who never let his emotions take over when fighting, was now fencing on pure rage and anger, disregarding what his mentors had taught him.
Instead of staring at them, Bella needed to get help. She rushed for the front, hoping she would see a familiar face amongst the chaos. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, lifting the full and heavy skirts of her dress as she hastened her step.
Standing by the myriad of carriages leaving for Hayes, she saw Emmett, Rosalie, Carlisle, and Jasper. Esmeralda, her parents, and Alice were already in a carriage bound for their townhouse.
"McCarty!" she shouted as she darted up to him in her white dress. "I require your assistance!" she ordered as she took his arm in her hand, gasping after the burst through the hallways.
"Emmett?" Rosalie frowned.
"Miss Swan, we need to leave!" Emmett urged.
"Cullen is fighting Collins and I think he will lose," Bella pleaded.
"You have not seen him fight like I have—"
"He is wounded!"
"Where are they?" Carlisle interceded.
"I will lead the way," Bella said quickly, a frantic undertone working its way to the surface.
"It is too dangerous!"
"If we remain arguing here it will become dangerous. I only need someone who can handle a pistol," she said while looking at Emmett. "And Cullen requires your assistance, please believe me!"
"Rose, under the front seats, I store my ivory pair," he commanded his wife.
"You told me you got rid of the dueling pistols!" she argued back.
"Rose, now!"
She quickly got out a small reddish box that housed two loaded pistols in ivory. Emmett placed a harness over his body, holstering one pistol and keeping the other ready.
"Lord Masen, take this carriage back to the house, Miss Swan and I will find another way to return," he urged."
"We cannot simply leave you here and—"
Emmett turned heftily. "I did not ask. Show me the way, Miss Swan," he told Bella who promptly headed back into the estate with Emmett in tow.
"Do what he says papa, he can be stubborn." Rosalie hesitated as she saw the house swallow the broad-shouldered form of her husband. "I think he must go." She had a cold look in her eyes. "Listen to that, listen to men dying, listen to those shots. Those soldiers will swarm this place lest we leave soon, or we will be among the dead, I do not think Forster intends on taking prisoners," Rosalie urged.
Carlisle was torn, he couldn't simply leave his daughter in such a place. Thus, he turned to Jasper. "You keep her safe, Hale," and then headed in after Emmett and Bella.
Bella rushed to the corridor where she had left Edward and Collins fencing but found them gone. However, the clashes of swords could be heard to the east, to the front garden and they promptly followed it.
Meanwhile, fighting under the iridescent moon, Collins and Edward poured everything into their fight. They were matched, both realized it. But Collins knew Cullen was tired and that he would soon have the upper hand.
They did not quip, nor show off any fancy movements; their fight was raw, open, full of emotion and it flashed with their distaste for the other. Collins caught Cullen triumphantly across the chest, drawing first blood. Had this been anywhere else, they would cease the fight and declare him a winner. But Collins wanted more.
He kept directing his blade to fence the left-handed man, growling with each coupé, bearing down extra hard, hoping to break the blade. But Cullen was stubborn.
Alas, finally, the masked man felt the sword slip from his hand and the tip of Collins draw near his heart. He closed his eyes, images of Bella flashing before him, regretting he had not done things differently; like telling his father the truth.
But now, in the flourished courtyard of Lionel Wilson, Edward Cullen would draw his final breath.
A/N: Back with another chapter! Hope you all liked it. Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter :D
Cheers,
Isabelle