Will You Teach Me…?
Well, your wish is my command, so I can tell you that from now on, you will have one chapter per week every Sunday! That way, this fiction will be over in about two months (I just haven't decided yet if I will post the last chapter + the epilogue on the same day or a week apart…).
Anyway, let's go back to Brianna, who has once again had her heart broken by her husband's nonsense, and Phaedre who's supposed to bring the evidence of Stephen's crimes to the apothecary...
Thanks Rath101, AvidReaderAndOnlyThat,Birdie87 and SirenWolf28 for the reviews!
Rath101: Pffft, your comment made me snicker at the first "Goddamn it, Stephen" ahahahah. That pretty much sums up the whole previous chapter. But he's also deeply in love and he'll have the opportunity to show it and make up for everything he did, don't worry… For now, just breathe in deeply, breathe out…. And try not to freak out reading this chapter. Lmao
AvidReaderAndOnlyThat: Thank you for your comment! Here is your weekly dose of twisted romance. Enjoy!
SirenWolf28: Yep, all chapters are done in French, I just have a few more to translate but it'll be quick. Here is the chapter!
Birdie87: thank you so much! I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations !
oOo
27. War Cries
October 30th, 1774.
"Why do you have to goooo?", Jeremiah whined, stomping on the porch.
A few meters away, Lloyd, Hennessy and the two O'Donnell brothers – usually in charge of River Run's security – were loading a cart with food, money and crates to transport the fabrics that they would bring back from Wilmington. Sighing loudly, Phaedre placed her own travel bag on top of a crate and turned back to face the sulky child.
"I'll be back soon, Jeremiah. Three more sleeps and I'm home. It is not that long for a big boy like you, is it?"
Jemmy thought for a moment – he liked it when Phaedre called him a big boy – and then scowled even more. "It is… a bit long… just a little bit."
Brianna, who was watching the men load the cart apprehensively, was about to reassure him when the child was lifted off the ground by Stephen's powerful arms.
"Come on, Jeremiah... Don't you want some new clothes? And especially... don't you want your Mama to wear the most breathtaking dresses created by a human hand?", he asked cheerfully.
"What does breastaking mean?"
Stephen pretended to think. "Hmm… you know when Mama's beauty takes my breath away…? Well, that means her dresses will be as beautiful as she is."
Brianna bit her lip nervously. A few days earlier, that compliment would have lit a blazing fire in her belly, or made her blush, but since she had overheard Hennessy and Stephen's conversation in the kitchen, all those displays of affection only wrung her heart. Not that she doubted they were sincere – Stephen had always praised her beauty – but it just made the whole situation and decision-making process more difficult.
As if she had read her mind, Phaedre gave a brief questioning look at her mistress – one hand resting on her belly, where the ledger was discreetly wedged between her blouse and her corset – but Brianna did not give any sign that she had changed her mind.
"Three sleeps?", Jeremiah asked again with more confidence this time. Phaedre nodded and the child fidgeted in his father's arms until Stephen put him down, before running to the maid for one last hug. "Three sleeps are fine."
"Be nice with Mommy and Daddy. If you're not, I will know...", she threatened him gently and Jeremiah nodded.
"Everything is ready, Sir", said William O'Donnell to Stephen.
"Good... and remember: if you see anythin' that looks like a Catawba, you shoot on sight..."
The other brother, James, cleared his throat loudly and spat on the floor, causing Phaedre and Brianna to wince at the same time. "And how are we supposed to know dey're not Cherokees or somethin'?"
"The Cherokees will not attack you, they are on our side...", the Irishman replied impatiently.
"Idjit…", William said, slapping his brother on the back of the head. "And it's just as well, because I couldn't tell those savages apart even if my life depended on it!"
"They can perfectly tell the White savages apart, though…", Brianna groaned, glaring at the two men, but if they understood her cutting remark, it didn't show on their stupid faces. Stephen, on the other hand, chuckled quietly and placed a soothing hand on her lower back. But once again, instead of blushing or smiling shyly as usual, Brianna remained unmoved and he frowned imperceptibly, wondering what he had done to deserve that. Again.
Hennessy rubbed his hands to get rid of the dust and dirt that covered some of the crates, and solemnly turned to Phaedre. "Be careful, Miss Phaedre, and have a safe journey."
Phaedre stared at him, completely taken aback. It was the first time he had a kind word to her, and it took her a few seconds to answer. "Thank you, Mr. Hennessy."
A few minutes later, River Run (as well as its inhabitants and Jeremiah, who was waving at them from the porch) disappeared in the distance and Phaedre turned around on her seat to face the road. James was holding the reins by her side, while his brother – comfortably seated between bags and crates in the back – was watching the surroundings with a long rifle in his hand and a preloaded flintlock pistol on his belt.
The sun was just rising over North Carolina, coloring the sky with light shades of blue, yellow and pink. Once again, Phaedre placed a hand on her stomach. The ledger felt as heavy as a lead plate and she dreaded seeing it fall from her dress in front of the two O'Donnell brothers, who would then probably hang her from the first tree available. No, it was impossible. The ledger couldn't fall, her bodice was as tightly lashed as it could be. I'm just terrified… I need to calm down…
"When do you think we'll get to Wilmington?", Phaedre asked to break the silence. A little conversation would certainly help to get her mind off things.
"Oh, we should be there by nightfall, that's why we had to leave early…", William answered from the back, and Phaedre turned around again to look at him. "Why? Are ye already tired, Miss Phaedre?"
"No, it's… I was just asking, that's all."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the trio, but William's lustful gaze literally burned her skin and Phaedre started to wonder whether it was indeed a good idea to speak to them. But the wheels were already in motion...
"It's a pity we don't see ye around very often. Ye're always inside the house and we're always outside...", he went on, taking some chewing tobacco out of his pocket. "Are ye married?"
Oh Lord… Why did I have to open my big mouth?, Phaedre moaned internally before answering. "No."
"Would ye like to?"
Phaedre rolled her eyes. If she answered "yes", he would take that as an incentive. If she said "yes, but certainly not to you", which was the truth, he might get offended.
"I'm a lady's maid, Mr. O'Donnell, I can't get married without Mrs. Bonnet's permission."
"Ha…", the man simply blurted out, shoving some tobacco inside his mouth.
"Willy, ye're botherin' her with yer questions...", James grumbled, taking both reins in one hand and holding out the other to ask his brother for some tobacco. Next to him, Phaedre's face said it all, but "Willy" shrugged.
"She's old enough to tell me if I bother her, aye?"
"Aye, then ye are botherin' me with yer questions. Happy now?", James added, chewing on the tiny bit of tobacco his brother had just left in his palm. He then turned towards the road again while William went back to staring at the surrounding forest, obviously sulking.
Quite relieved that this awkward conversation was over, Phaedre reached into her bag and pulled out a book she had borrowed from Brianna, opening it where she had stopped reading the day before. She had barely read two lines when this time it was James' puzzled look that distracted her.
"Ye can read?", he asked, and Phaedre sensed a hint of admiration or jealousy in his voice.
"Mrs. Cameron taught me years ago, so I could read to her when she started losing her eyesight. I can also write… a little bit," she added modestly.
James nodded, looking very impressed, before glancing at his brother in the back of the cart. "She's definitely too good for ye, now, brother…"
"I don't see why I couldn't be her husband even if I can't read or write, ye numbskull!"
"Oh yeah? Ye'll sure look great at yer wedding when she'll sign her full name and ye just put a stupid cross on the paper, ye feckin' idjit!"
With her mouth wide open on a silent sigh, Phaedre rolled her eyes as the two brothers barked at each other like two dogs fighting over a bone. This was going to be a long journey. Fortunately for her, the men's vociferations ended about twenty minutes later and the trip went on for a few hours in a rather pleasant silence that was only broken by the hooves of horses and the creaking wheels on the road.
So much so that when the first gunshot blared, digging a small hole in a tree nearby, the three travelers did not immediately understand what was happening. Until they could hear it. The screaming. High-pitched, threatening, ear-splitting screams...
"Goddammit, savages!", William bellowed, pointing his gun at the trees. But the thick vegetation still hid the enemy from sight. James gave the reins a shake and the horses started on at full gallop – causing Phaedre to yelp when the change in pace almost threw her off the cart. Her hands clinging to the wooden frame, her eyes scanned the surroundings looking for the Natives, but she couldn't see anything. A second gunshot echoed through the forest, the bullet whistling as it flew past their heads, and she jumped, curling up in her seat.
"I can see one!", William roared behind them, shooting at the Indian and only missing him by a few inches. More angry cries came from the forest, as well as the sound of hooves hitting the damp ground. A lot more hooves than they had.
"Hold tight, Miss Phaedre!", James ordered, although it was useless. Phaedre was already holding tight to everything she could, as if trying to merge with the cart itself.
The man shook the reins again, yelling to push the horses to the limit. The cart was picking up speed – a little too much considering the many potholes on the road – and Phaedre almost fell over several times.
"We can't outrun them! There's too many of them and they're fast!", she cried, glancing backwards. Behind them, the Catawbas were multiplying, appearing from between bushes and trees, galloping just behind the cart or on the sides. Some of them had bows and arrows, or even rifles that were certainly stolen from English soldiers or taken from their corpses. Others had simple hatchets.
"Well, I'm sure gonna try-"
A clap of thunder ripped through the dust-laden atmosphere and Phaedre instinctively looked up to the persistently blue sky. It wasn't until James O'Donnell's limp body fell slowly forward – a gaping hole replacing one of his eye sockets – and hit the ground below, that Phaedre realized it wasn't the thunder.
"JAMES!", William cried, watching in horror as his brother's body receded into the distance, abandoned by the unstoppable horses. Eyes filling with tears, he loaded his gun again. "Motherfuckers!"
At the front, Phaedre grabbed the reins before they slipped out of reach. She had never ridden a horse – let alone driven such a vehicle – but it looked quite simple, right? All she had to do was move her arms and shout at the top of her lungs. The horses were already going straight ahead, she wouldn't have much more to do...
Meanwhile, William seemed caught in murderous fury. The loss of his brother had sent a dose of adrenaline through his veins, making each shot more precise and deadlier than the previous one. Several Natives fell under his bullets, as Phaedre could guess from his triumphant yells every time he hit his target. But the joy was short-lived when coming out of a turn, the only thing Phaedre had time to see before the whole world went upside down was a huge tree trunk blocking the way.
The horses tried to avoid it, but the speed and the weight of their vehicle made it impossible to stop and the cart rolled in an awful concert of cracking wood and panicked neighs. In one second, the sky became the ground and the ground became the sky, and Phaedre realized she was falling. Right on a huge stone. One sinister crack, a sharp flash of light ripping her skull apart, and everything went dark.
William shook his head, still stunned by the fall, and miserably crawled to his rifle that had been ejected a few feet away under a large thorn bush. One of the horses was dying on the ground, a branch of the fallen tree piercing through his abdomen. The other animal was struggling with the harness to get back on its feet. In the distance, the Natives were cheering and picking up bags of money; another was walking around, holding a head by the scalp. Probably James's… And all of them were getting close to him and the destroyed cart.
It was at this moment that William saw the maid. Lying near a rock, her face covered in blood, she wasn't moving. Her dress flaring out around her, like a wilted flower fallen to the ground.
"Feck…", William moaned. He was about to run towards her, to check if she was dead or alive, but leaving the bushes would expose him to the enemy. He didn't want to end up with a bullet in his head and beheaded like his brother… No, thank you. And given the amount of blood that had flowed out of the gaping wound on her temple, if by some miracle the girl was still alive, she wouldn't be for long. Giving one last look at the lost cargo and at Phaedre's motionless body, William O'Donnell scampered off through the woods. Heading straight back to River Run.
~o~
The day had been somewhat gloomy at the plantation. Jeremiah had been shunning his toys since Phaedre had left, and Brianna had spent most of her time curled up in an armchair in the living room, staring into the flames that were dancing in the fireplace. Stephen sensed something was wrong, and – maybe out of habit or paranoia – he had the feeling it had something to do with him. But after dinner, he couldn't bear it any longer and put his hands on Brianna's shoulders, his thumbs gently stroking her neck.
"Is somethin' wrong, darlin'?"
Brianna exhaled through her nose, closing her eyes briefly. Oh, how she wished she had never overheard this conversation. How she wished she could keep living in ignorance and enjoy his sweet caresses without feeling so angry and sad… In order not to arouse suspicion, she raised her arm and stroked Stephen's fingers, trying hard to ignore how electrifying this simple touch was.
"I'm fine… I'll feel better when Phaedre comes home…"
Stephen hummed, digging his thumbs in the back of her neck and slowly massaging the tense muscles, until Brianna soon felt her head nod involuntarily.
"Me too, actually… Poor Jeremiah looks miserable. Just as I do when you're not around." Stephen leaned towards her ear and sneered. "I think he's sweet on his nanny…", he whispered, although it wasn't really a secret.
Brianna couldn't help but smile, slowly luxuriating in her husband's delicious massage. "How perceptive of you… It only took you fourteen months to figure that out?"
The pirate chuckled. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not very good at sensin' other people's feelings..." One of his hands left Bree's nape and slid over her collarbone, coming to rest just above her breasts. "It's not all perfect yet, but I'm learnin'…"
Brianna opened her eyes and let her head fall on the backrest. True, he was not perfect, but nobody was. And he had indeed made a lot of effort over the past few months… What if I was too hard on him? Maybe this book thing wasn't important… Maybe I overreacted? A wave of doubt suddenly washed over her, as Stephen leaned forward to kiss her, his hand trailing sensually up Brianna's throat to cup her jaw with his fingers. What if I made a big mistake? What if I was too quick to make up my mind on this one? The more she questioned herself, the greedier and more desperate the kiss became. And when he finally straightened up, Stephen looked very much aroused.
"Let's go to bed, darlin'..."
She was nodding and getting out of her armchair when the front door swung open and the sound of a body sprawling across the marble floor echoed through the house. The two Bonnets turned their heads as one, then ran into the entrance hall as Hennessy got out of the kitchens. There in the middle of the hall, with his clothes crusted with dried blood and mud, was William O'Donnell, looking exhausted, panting and sobbing.
"By Danu… what the Hell are you doin' here?", Stephen vociferated, feeling like his nice evening with his wife was being taken from his hands.
William straightened up on all fours, then on his knees, supporting himself with one hand on the tiled floor. "Mr. Bonnet… we… we were attacked…"
Brianna looked in horror at the front door that O'Donnell had left wide open on the pitch black night, and rushed outside to find… absolutely nothing. No trace of the cart, of the second O'Donnell brother and most importantly... where is Phaedre?
"Savages, not far from Lumberton... dey ambushed us before we could get out of de woods... Dere was nothin' we could do, Sir..."
"Where is Phaedre?", Brianna asked, trotting back inside.
William's face darkened and he shook his head with a pained expression. "Dey killed me brother first. A bullet in de head. Miss Phaedre tried to take control of de horses while I was shootin' 'em… But dey had felled a tree across de road… It all happened so fast…"
"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?"
Brianna had screamed this time. The loss of the ledger was one thing. She would get over it somehow. She would find another way. But losing Phaedre... it was unthinkable. And yet, the man's answer left no doubt.
"She... she's dead, Mistress... And if she wasn't already, de savages probably finished her off... I... I'm sorry..."
The news came as a blow. Hennessy, Fitzpatrick and the footmen had frozen in a corner of the room, while Brianna's mouth opened, gasping for oxygen and trying to let out the heart-wrenching cry that was stuck deep in her throat. She did not see Stephen's worried look gradually turn into anger. A cold, murderous rage. They had dared lay hands on his property and his house staff. The audacity. No one but him had power of life and death over the people of River Run. And the Catawbas would soon understand that, even if he had to carve it in capital letters on the forehead of every Indian who got in his way.
"GET UP!," Stephen barked at O'Donnell, who jumped. "Wake everyone up. Give a horse to every man who can carry a weapon in this house. Send someone to Cross Creek to ask the soldiers there to meet us at the end of the forest near Lumberton, on the road to Wilmington." He swirled around toward the house staff, his face distorted with hatred, and all of them (except Hennessy) took a step back. "Fitzpatrick, Lloyd, can you shoot?"
Two timid "yes, Sir" sounded in the entrance hall.
"Join the others outside, then. Mr. Hennessy, you will stay here with Brianna."
"What?", she protested, taking a few steps towards him. "No-no-no, I'm coming with you."
"Absolutely not."
"Stephen, I know how to handle a gun, I'm a good shot! And… it's Phaedre, for God's sake, I'm not letting her down, I w-"
Stephen grabbed her wrists, a little roughly at first and then loosening his grip enough not to hurt her. He was doing his best to contain himself, and when he talked to her, his voice was suddenly much softer.
"I'm sure you are, mo fíorghrá…" Letting go of her wrists, he cupped her cheeks with his hands. "But I can't stop thinkin' that it could have been you… If you had gone with them, you would probably be dead by now. You or Jeremiah. I would have lost my mind, Brianna. I would have lost me damned mind…"
"Stephen…", she protested again, but he cut her off.
"I want you here at home with our son..." He gulped, and Brianna saw in his eyes that he presumed the worst. "Because if Phaedre has indeed been killed, Jeremiah will need you. He'll need you by his side."
Brianna closed her mouth. As much as she hated to admit it, Stephen was absolutely right. Phaedre's death would deeply affect their son, and letting Hennessy or anyone other than his parents break the news to him or comfort him was out of the question. So she gave up and nodded limply, her eyes filling with tears.
"Mommy, what's going on?", a voice came from the top of the stairs. Everyone in the room looked up at Jeremiah in his nightwear, rubbing his small sleepy eyes with his sleeve. Brianna felt her chin quiver, but as her brain made a mental list of all the things one could say to announce the death of a loved one to a child, Stephen brought her attention back to him and kissed her passionately.
"I love you, Brianna…", he whispered against her lips. And without waiting for an answer – since she never gave any – he turned on his heel, snatched his coat from Hennessy's hands, and ran down the porch steps, followed by his men.
~o~
Once the men were gone, Brianna had tried to explain that Phaedre had an accident and that Daddy had left to bring her back home. Putting the child to bed after that had been harder than usual, and Brianna — who only wanted to curl up in bed and cry her heart out — started to lose patience. But after an hour of fighting and whining, Jemmy had cried himself to sleep and Brianna was able to retire to her room. She had been sobbing for another hour when Hennessy knocked on the door, bringing a steaming cup of tea on a small tray.
"I'm sure she's alive, Madam…", he said softly, leaving the tray on the nightstand. "She's probably just injured and waiting for help somewhere. O'Donnell is a coward. I'm sure he ran away without even looking back."
Brianna gave him a sluggish nod and the butler disappeared without a sound, leaving her alone again. When she woke up the next morning, it was nearly ten o'clock and no one had come back. Jeremiah was still sound asleep, and Brianna got dressed and went downstairs alone. She wasn't really hungry, but Hennessy handed her some pastries as well as a strong coffee to put her right again, and she gulped it down halfheartedly. Finally, around eleven o'clock, horses came up the driveway and Brianna ran into the entrance hall just as the door opened... but Phaedre was nowhere in sight.
With a heavy and tired tread, Stephen climbed the front steps and stopped in the doorway. But when he saw his wife's inquisitive gaze, he looked down and shook his head.
"We found the place… and what was left of the cart. The Indians set it on fire... There was at least one body in there, as well as the carcass of a horse… »
Slowly, Brianna's right hand went to her stomach and the left hand to her heart. A sharp pain was piercing its way through her body, while her eyes filled with tears again. Stephen did not wait a second and hugged his wife as hard as he could.
"Soldiers are after them, they will find them… But they are already many hours ahead…", he whispered, stroking her hair.
In other words, they would not catch them anytime soon, especially if the tribe constantly moved as Indians often did to escape from the settlers, who were gradually annexing their lands. Brianna clung to Stephen's waistcoat, as his massive arms cradled her, wrapping her in their sweet embrace. Suddenly, the subject of the burnt books seemed terribly futile and her reaction idiotic. Like that of a spoiled child who throws a tantrum when she doesn't get what she wants.
Behind the couple, William took off his hat and spoke in a low voice. "I'm sorry, Mr. … and Mrs. Bonnet. I did everytin' I could to defend us and our cargo. Mr. Bonnet… if ye wish, ye can deduct de stolen money from me pay…"
Stephen let go of his wife so abruptly that Brianna nearly fell forward, but he held her back at the last second.
"I don't give a damn about the money, Mr. O'Donnell!", he barked, his eyes as dark as the depths of Hell. "Those bastards murdered one of my men, your brother! And they killed Miss Phaedre!"
A tiny gasp and a sob were heard near the stairs, and everyone turned around to find a barely awake Jeremiah, dragging along with him his wubby – Stephen's scarf that he had never returned since day one. The little boy was staring at him, his eyes widening in horror, his chin quivering and big tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Jem…", Brianna whined, taking a step towards him, but the child swirled around and started to climb the stairs as fast as his little legs would let him. Brianna rushed after him, and just as she was about to catch up with him on the landing, Jeremiah's feet caught in the rug and he fell flat on the floor. Brianna dove to the ground to rock him, as he wailed and sobbed uncontrollably. "I'm sorry… Baby, I'm so sorry…"
Amid the tears that blurred her vision, Brianna saw Stephen come up the stairs, walk around their prostrate bodies and sit behind them on the floor, before his arms wrapped around his wife and son without a word. The sweet warmth that emanated from him made Brianna nauseous. Not because it disgusted her, but because she couldn't find any reason to escape it anymore. Every time she tried to plot against Stephen, he won. Sometimes even unknowingly, like today. And some other times, she caused something terrible to happen. Phaedre's death was just another item in the long list of disastrous consequences of her refusing to accept her fate. Of her selfishness and whims. Everything would have been so much easier if she had surrendered from the start. Stephen was objectively not a bad husband. If they had trusted each other from the early days of their relationship, they would have saved each other a lot of drama. At least three deaths could have been avoided. If she had decided not to use Margaret's ledger, Phaedre would still be alive. And all that for a burnt book. I sent my friend and Jeremiah's to death FOR A STUPID FUCKING BOOK.
Brianna sobbed harder, letting herself go in Stephen's reassuring arms. It was time to stop this nonsense. The lousy plans, the stupid squabbles, the resistance... Phaedre died because of my overweening pride. Because I just can't admit defeat. It had to stop now. She was and forever would be Brianna Ellen Bonnet, cherished wife of Stephen Bonnet, mother of Jeremiah Bonnet and all the other children God would grant them. Stephen had won. But somehow, Brianna did not see herself as a loser. She had a husband who loved her like crazy, a son they both adored, and she also had grown very fond of Stephen these last few months. I should have stopped this madness a long time ago...
In her arms, Jeremiah was still wailing and she tightened her embrace around his frail frame, while Stephen did the same around them both. Then she turned her head towards her husband, who was staring at her with worried and reddening eyes. He had never showed such feelings before and it confirmed Brianna's new decision. The man she was facing was no longer a monster. He had changed. She and Jeremiah had changed him. No, he was not perfect, but he had fought against himself and his own flaws with more determination than any other man she had met.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Brianna…", he breathed, one lip quivering.
She nodded and buried her face in the crook of his neck. A few seconds before she whispered between two sobs:
"Thank you… I love you…"
Brianna did not know why she had said that, all of a sudden. Maybe it was her subtle way to accept defeat and let him know. Like soldiers waving a white flag at the enemy. But she did not look up to see the effect of those three words on the Irishman. She felt him stiffen slightly, and then his arms tightened around her again, almost breaking her bones in the process. And it was when a single drop of salty water fell on her cheekbone that Bree realized he was crying.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
And now you must be really happy that you don't have to wait three weeks for the next chapter, ahahahahah. Well, where should I start? Did you really expect this to happen? And by this, I mean a) the Natives' attack, b) Stephen who moves heaven and earth to try and save Phaedre and finally Brianna, devastated, defeated, who finally accepts her fate and surrenders? (Yeah I know, that's a lot for one chapter hahaha).
I would really like to know how you reacted to all the events in this chapter, so please please please, don't hesitate to leave a small (or a long) comment, it would make me very happy!
Chapter 28 will be posted next Sunday, April 30th!
Have a lovely week!
Xérès