Third chapter! Sorry it took me forever to upload.. my mom decided to get the wooden floors done over the weekend and we had to live at our neighbors house. Oh, what fun! Here's the next chapter!
She raced down the beach at breakneck speed and didn't allow Juniper to stop until they reached the stables. The sun was almost all the way up and she was determined to be ready for breakfast. Well, she had to be or she suffered the consequences. She found the stableman, Warren, and he understood as soon as he saw her racing into the lawn. "Good day, Warren," Isabelle said quickly. Warren reached up and pulled her out of the saddle.
"You better be off, Elle! Breakfast is in one hour!" he called after her.
"Juniper needs water and food! Thank you Warren!" Isabelle called back to him as she raced up the lattice leading into her bedroom window.
Catherine paced Isabelle's bedroom floor, wishing she would appear soon. Breakfast was being served soon and if Isabelle arrived late of disheveled it wouldn't be too good for her. She decided to go to the armoire and pull out a pale yellow dress and then picked out matching canary diamonds for her ears and one to wear around her neck. She pulled our a pair of riding boots for her to wear under her long gown, knowing that Isabelle would want to make a quick getaway if anything were to happen and didn't fancy high heeled pumps like everyone else.
As she was setting the shoes on the bed next to the dress, Isabelle tumbled into the bedroom from the window with a graceless thud. She felt a sudden pain from her side, but popped back up to get ready. She could deal with the pain at hand, but she didn't think she could handle more pain. She tore off her shirt and yanked off her pants, leaving a trail of clothes to the bed where she pulled on her corset and gown soon after. Catherine started on her hair as she put on her makeup in one of the mirrors adorning the walls. Catherine decided to put her hair in a plain style, half up half down with some twists for effects on the top. Isabelle's hair would naturally regain its curl after she calmed herself down a bit. She slipped on her riding boots while Isabelle put on the final touch of makeup. She stood and grabbed her fan, she was ready. She took a few deep breaths and nodded for Catherine to open the door. As she walked out, Isabelle mouthed the words thank you to Catherine and she nodded gratefully, sweating now, herself.
Isabelle walked slowly and painfully down the steps to the dining room where she found her father and a large group of his business associates. She had hoped to walk in unnoticed and take her place at the table, but nothing seemed to be going right for her today. Everyone grew silent as she entered the room, and they stood for her. 'Shit; she thought to herself, 'I just can't get a break today'. She did her best to smile and make it look like that of happiness not disgust. Her father remained standing when everyone sat down.
"Gentlemen, my daughter, Isabelle," he said motioning for her to stand once again. She did as she was told, even though her side screamed in pain. She wondered why a silly bruise would hurt so much, but it did. It didn't seem to be wanting to go away anytime soon either. She bowed her head in an elegant manner and took her seat at the table near her father. Isabelle ate little, trying her best not to use her right side. She would catch half of the men looking her way and gave them shy elegant glances and made them smile with the slight turn of her head. Her father seemed to go on and on and her condition seemed to worsen the longer she sat.
Her father had his fair share of wine and knocked over an empty glass of water, hitting Isabelle square in her side. Tears leaped into her eyes and all the gentlemen around her stood to help. She clutched the nearest man's hand in an effort to keep the tears and screaming at bay. Other than that, she kept a plain face and shook her head at anyone who asked her if she was hurt. The only person who knew was the young man whose hand she was holding tightly. He was concerned the minute the glass hit her side. She didn't gasp and leap to her feet, she stayed sitting and clenched her jaw and did not speak. Then, to prove all his suspicions correct, she clutched his hand. He didn't know such a little woman could grip so hard as she was doing.
"She'll be fine!" her father bellowed. "Sit! Sit and eat!" he yelled happily at the men around him. The young man, whose name was Paris, looked at her father in confusion. He didn't as his daughter if she was alright; he didn't even bat an eye as she held onto her side, trying futilely to comfort herself. Paris seated himself next to her, and noticed she did not let go of his hand under the table. She was still squeezing extremely hard. He knew there was something else wrong besides the water glass.
Isabelle knew she shouldn't still be holding this young man's hand, but she couldn't let go. She wouldn't It just hurt too much. His hand was the only think keeping her tears from spilling and she didn't even know him. Any hand, any gentle word would have helped her. The pain didn't subside and she didn't know why, she didn't know what else to do. He held her hand back, squeezing it every now and then to let her know he understood something was terribly wrong.
After breakfast, Isabelle slowly let go of the young man's hand. "Sir, I wish for your daughter to accompany me on a little walk. She is fascinating and I wish to know her better," Paris said convincingly. Richard nodded his head and waved his hands at them, turning back to the men he was standing with. Isabelle held onto the man's sleeve and walked quickly from the house, despite her pain. Paris turned a corner sharply where they ran straight into the Commodore.
"James!" Isabelle shouted breathlessly.
"Elle, what happened?" James asked helping Paris steady her now falling body. She had gotten so pale and all the light from her eyes was gone. "Isabelle!" James hissed, concern written all over his face when she didn't respond. She was focusing on breathing, not talking. 'Breath,' she reminded herself over and over again. "What happened, lad?" James asked the young man, pulling them both in the direction of the Turner's house.
"She seemed to be in pain during breakfast and her father knocked over a glass that hit her right side. She, she just…" James cut him off.
"Elle, that's where you were hurting, last night isn't it?" he asked, lifting her up and motioning for the young man to follow him down the street. She nodded and James ran a little faster. "Will!" James shouted not bothering to knock. "Elizabeth!" James shouted again when no one appeared. Elizabeth and Will came running out of the bedroom still in their night clothes and stopped short when they saw Isabelle in pain again. "Her side, the same one," James said and laid her down on the couch in the parlor. Elizabeth ran to get a cloth and left a trail of vulgar, cruel words directed at Richard for doing this. This was the second time in less than two days that Isabelle had to be in such ridiculous pain. If she ever ran into that man on the streets she would kill him. Happily.
"I'm so sorry," Isabelle whispered and black out.
When she came to, Elizabeth was leaning over her and stroking her forehead with a cold cloth. "Oh, Ellie, I thought the worst when I saw you this morning."
"I don't know how to thank you, Liz," Isabelle said sadly.
"Shh, don't worry. I am always going to be here for you no matter what," Elizabeth said and stroked her forehead. "Paris took you out hours ago. I'm sorry to say that you must go back," Liz said hesitantly.
""Who is Paris?" Isabelle asked.
"The man who brought you here from breakfast," Elizabeth said and Will, James, and another fine looking man strolled into the room. James helped her sit and she hissed in pain, sucking the air in through her teeth sharply. "Will!" Elizabeth looked up at her husband as she saw one of her best friends struggle to get off the couch. There was nothing Will could do. All he could do was stand by and watch as Isabelle moaned with pain every time she took a step. James took her to the door, but handed her to Pairs.
"Take care of her on the way home," James said warningly. "Elle, I will be around later tonight, can you hold out until then?" he asked her.
"Yes," she managed. It came out choked because her throat constricted and she lost the rest of what she was going to say. Paris wrapped his arm around her waist and half carried her down the streets and back to her house.
"Your father does this to you?" he said as they were walking.
"Yes," she said sadly. Paris cursed under his breath.
"Why?" he asked after a little while.
"I would like to know that too," Isabelle said quietly.
Paris stopped at the front door and Isabelle straightened herself up so she could look presentable for her father. Paris watched as she took in a few deep breaths and set her shoulders, throwing her head back to make it look like she hadn't been asleep fro the better part of two hours. Isabelle opened the front door and leaned down to kiss Pairs on the cheek. "Thank you for all that you've done," she said and he smiled at her.
"Anytime you need me, Madame," Paris said and began to walk off. Isabelle closed the door and walked slowly and quietly in, hoping that she wouldn't run into her father on the way. She saw Catherine at the end of the hallway and started to walk toward her, but her father came out of one of the rooms near the end. Catherine watched as Isabelle was slowly forced to back up into the room behind her. Isabelle looked up at her father with pleading dark Spanish eyes full of fear and pain. Catherine clutched the knife she was using to chop the meat for dinner, knowing there was nothing she could do to help her friend.
Isabelle stumbled over the rug and watched in horror as her father shut and locked the door behind them. She kept her face plain and calm, rivaling her insides. "And where had you been, daughter," her father asked, spitting out the word daughter like it was venom.
"With Paris. He took me on a walk through the docks," Isabelle lied gracefully.
"Is that so?" her father asked, stepping closer. With that one step, Isabelle knew her father was drunk. She could smell it on his breath and see it in his step. She nodded in response to his question. "Answer me!" he shouted and shoved her hard against the corner of the desk which came in contact with her lower back.
"Yes!" she screamed, hoping to God that he would stop. He didn't. He advanced on her and grabbed her wrists, holding them tightly in his vice like grip. "Stop it," she whispered hoarsely. He brought one of her wrists down on the table hard and she shut her eyes and bit back the tears that threatened.
"Ever since your mother died you have been nothing but worthless!" Richard screamed and threw her aside, laughing when she tumbled to the ground. Her hair fell out of her bun and fell around her face. "Are you listening to me!" he yelled again, this time with hatred behind his eyes. He walked swiftly up to her and kicker her hard in her right side, knowing fully that it had been hurting her. She couldn't contain the piercing scream that fell out of her mouth. She clutched her side and rocked her body slowly, trying to stop the tears that were now flowing. "Don't you dare scream again!" he yelled furiously and pulled her hair, jerking her head to one side.
"Stop please stop!" she begged, tears streaming down her face.
"Admit it then! Admit you are worthless!"
"I am not!" His grip tightened on her hair and she cried out in pain.
"Admit it now, Isabelle!" he reached for her side slowly.
"I am worthless!" she yelled frantically, trying to protect her damaged side. He threw her over to the side, behind the table and looked down on her with disgust.
"You are worthless," he scowled, and walked out of the room. Isabelle lay on the ground crying as more and more maids rushed in to help her aching body. Her father came back in the room but the maids stayed bent down next to Isabelle.
"We are going to Kingstown in the morning. Be ready," he said and walked away. Isabelle didn't hear him, she wanted to block out every memory, every laugh, and every word that had ever been because of her father. She cried until she had no tears left in her eyes and the maids stayed by her side until she stopped, holding her and gently stroking her head and back. Catherine held her hand and cried with her and the others looked around in a shocked state.
Together they carried her up to her bed and tucked her safely beneath the covers. It was only late afternoon, but she needed all the rest she could get. Later in the evening the commodore stopped by and Catherine went to answer the door, knowing that Richard would not show himself until morning. "Catherine, where is Isabelle?" James asked her looking to her left and right. Catherine stepped outside the door and shut it behind her.
"He did it again and this time Isabelle screamed. She never screams. He must have hurt her side again. She is in bed. Asleep for once, peacefully," Catherine said softly, fearing she would cry if she kept talking about it. "The master had ordered her to accompany him to Kingstown tomorrow morning and she must go. She had no other choice. Why is that, James? Why does a beautiful, spirited woman have no control over her life?" Catherine nearly screamed, her voice climbing rapidly. James took her into his arms and quieted her.
"It's alright. Isabelle will be alright. Richard needs an heiress to his fortune and killing the only one would leave all his money to the government," James said sadly. "I'll see her tomorrow upon her arrival back from Kingstown. Send someone for me," James said into her hair as Catherine cried into his shoulder.
That was that! Hoped you like it! JACK'S IN NEXT CHAPTER I PROMISE! -desperado
