Yes, his relatives are in Ireland though. Only he and his brother were in England until his brother was sent to Crimea.
Hmmmm... I like assassin stories too :) But I'm not sure how it will fit in the story.
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The empty bottle was beside one which was half empty. The second bottle he asked from the maid who informed him that one of the guest rooms was ready. Nick had no idea what time it was when he finally admitted to himself that he’d had enough to drink and that his stomach was feeling funny. Lucky for him, the butler was right at the door to assist his drunken self back to the guest room, where his first order of business was not to lie down in bed, but to go to the washroom to throw up.
The morning was not nearly as merciful. He awoke to a blinding headache and what must have been gentle knocks on the door. To him it sounded like a huge drum was being beaten furiously inside his room. He groaned but opened his eyes, thankful that nobody had pulled the curtains back yet. And then there was Claire in a green dress that emphasized how beautiful her eyes were.
Nicholas fought to keep his eyes open. The night before, with his bottle of whiskey as company, he had enough time to contemplate his relationship with this confusing woman. They were husband and wife in the eye of the ton, but the fact remained that he was James Flannagan and not Nicholas Rochford. She was correct to get mad at him for being nosy and arrogant. He decided the night before that he would stop caring – that was his original plan, anyway.
Therefore, when Claire talked, he listened. He made sure to listen to her explanation and act interested with her apology. He thought none of it mattered. None of it, except that his head was throbbing and she was speaking at length. He liked the sound of her voice normally, but that morning it seemed too loud for him.
Nick slowly sat up then he went to his knees, bringing one finger up as she continued talking. His index finger was inches to her lips when she finished her question.
“Nick, I’ve talked a lot and I feel like nothing has been accomplished. What I’m saying is I want you to come back to your rightful bed and I was wrong. And if you need me I’ll probably be in the parlor reading or making a guest list. Do you think you can forgive me for acting like a child?” she asked.
Those blue eyes blinked twice, his whole body frozen in place for a short moment, before he said, “Oh, you’re done.” As if on cue, he let his body fall to the bed, after which he groaned and clutched at his side. He lay on his stomach with his feet on the pillow and his head beside the spot where Claire sat. “I was about to say I forgive you, you don’t have to explain further,” he confessed, but his voice was muffled.
Even if she hadn’t chosen to apologize he would forgive her, because he had decided not to care and with that decision. In the first place, he should not be offended with her words last night and her actions yesterday. He turned his face to the side so his cheek was on the mattress. “I apologize for demanding a lot from you last night. I just got… I find it…. Yes, I was worried. It was late and none of the house staff knew where you went. And then you admitted to going to the prison, which made it worse.”
He sighed. “Anyway, I shall stay here for now. You may go about doing what pleases you, but please be a dear and allow me to sleep for a few more hours. My head is killing me right now.”
The morning was not nearly as merciful. He awoke to a blinding headache and what must have been gentle knocks on the door. To him it sounded like a huge drum was being beaten furiously inside his room. He groaned but opened his eyes, thankful that nobody had pulled the curtains back yet. And then there was Claire in a green dress that emphasized how beautiful her eyes were.
Nicholas fought to keep his eyes open. The night before, with his bottle of whiskey as company, he had enough time to contemplate his relationship with this confusing woman. They were husband and wife in the eye of the ton, but the fact remained that he was James Flannagan and not Nicholas Rochford. She was correct to get mad at him for being nosy and arrogant. He decided the night before that he would stop caring – that was his original plan, anyway.
Therefore, when Claire talked, he listened. He made sure to listen to her explanation and act interested with her apology. He thought none of it mattered. None of it, except that his head was throbbing and she was speaking at length. He liked the sound of her voice normally, but that morning it seemed too loud for him.
Nick slowly sat up then he went to his knees, bringing one finger up as she continued talking. His index finger was inches to her lips when she finished her question.
“Nick, I’ve talked a lot and I feel like nothing has been accomplished. What I’m saying is I want you to come back to your rightful bed and I was wrong. And if you need me I’ll probably be in the parlor reading or making a guest list. Do you think you can forgive me for acting like a child?” she asked.
Those blue eyes blinked twice, his whole body frozen in place for a short moment, before he said, “Oh, you’re done.” As if on cue, he let his body fall to the bed, after which he groaned and clutched at his side. He lay on his stomach with his feet on the pillow and his head beside the spot where Claire sat. “I was about to say I forgive you, you don’t have to explain further,” he confessed, but his voice was muffled.
Even if she hadn’t chosen to apologize he would forgive her, because he had decided not to care and with that decision. In the first place, he should not be offended with her words last night and her actions yesterday. He turned his face to the side so his cheek was on the mattress. “I apologize for demanding a lot from you last night. I just got… I find it…. Yes, I was worried. It was late and none of the house staff knew where you went. And then you admitted to going to the prison, which made it worse.”
He sighed. “Anyway, I shall stay here for now. You may go about doing what pleases you, but please be a dear and allow me to sleep for a few more hours. My head is killing me right now.”
This was the end. Everyone in the caravan was dead, buried under the cold blanket of snow. Their blood colored the pristine whiteness of the mountain for only a few moments until the snow covered up any trace of violence that ended the life of the men and women from Horngul. Ysabel had been a part of the caravan as one of the swords paid to ward away any threat to the safety of the merchants transporting finished products of Horngul to Castamere. There were five of them mercenaries, who had a contract with the caravan, but after encountering four hungry wargs in the middle of a snow storm, all four of her long time friends were dead leaving only her as the sole survivor.
Ysabel shuddered, but she knew it had nothing to do with the cold. She just couldn’t believe how quickly she had lost four of the people she trusted the most – Elred, Symond, Cilia and Gyles. Yet she kept on willing her feet to move one step ahead of the other. There was no time to grieve.
Still, the storm persisted. The wind howled and the snow threatened to bury every living being foolish enough to be on the mountain pass. Her lips were cracked and it didn’t help that a warg’s sharp paw had torn her cloak and dug deep into the flesh of her upper left arm. It would heal eventually. She was surprised it hadn’t healed yet and blamed it on her lack of anything to eat in the past day after the caravan attack occured. Ysabel pulled her heavy cloak tighter around her. She had to at least find shelter.
It was not her first time crossing that path and on a day with moderate snowfall, she could have found markers indicating her position on the pass, but not in that kind of weather. This had to be the end for her. She might have survived the wargs, but the storm proved to be a more lethal enemy than any of those creatures’ fangs. She had a sword strapped to her back and daggers on her belt, which she thought to use to end the miserable cold, but whether it was cowardice or stubbornness, her feet kept moving one step ahead of the other.
Hours passed and the cold amplified her hunger. She felt as if her strength was wearing thin, but she kept on moving for the sake of those who could no longer move. Then, as if the gods could still hear pleas, not far ahead she thought she saw figures moving. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but when she opened them again, the heavy cloaks were still moving ahead. Ysabel’s hopes soared. Shouting would do little because of the wind and her distance from them, but they might be kind enough to let her share the fire they would eventually build and a little of the food they carried with them. Therefore, she decided to blindly follow them.
Ysabel shuddered, but she knew it had nothing to do with the cold. She just couldn’t believe how quickly she had lost four of the people she trusted the most – Elred, Symond, Cilia and Gyles. Yet she kept on willing her feet to move one step ahead of the other. There was no time to grieve.
Still, the storm persisted. The wind howled and the snow threatened to bury every living being foolish enough to be on the mountain pass. Her lips were cracked and it didn’t help that a warg’s sharp paw had torn her cloak and dug deep into the flesh of her upper left arm. It would heal eventually. She was surprised it hadn’t healed yet and blamed it on her lack of anything to eat in the past day after the caravan attack occured. Ysabel pulled her heavy cloak tighter around her. She had to at least find shelter.
It was not her first time crossing that path and on a day with moderate snowfall, she could have found markers indicating her position on the pass, but not in that kind of weather. This had to be the end for her. She might have survived the wargs, but the storm proved to be a more lethal enemy than any of those creatures’ fangs. She had a sword strapped to her back and daggers on her belt, which she thought to use to end the miserable cold, but whether it was cowardice or stubbornness, her feet kept moving one step ahead of the other.
Hours passed and the cold amplified her hunger. She felt as if her strength was wearing thin, but she kept on moving for the sake of those who could no longer move. Then, as if the gods could still hear pleas, not far ahead she thought she saw figures moving. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but when she opened them again, the heavy cloaks were still moving ahead. Ysabel’s hopes soared. Shouting would do little because of the wind and her distance from them, but they might be kind enough to let her share the fire they would eventually build and a little of the food they carried with them. Therefore, she decided to blindly follow them.
“I did tell you where I was going before I left in our carriage this afternoon, and whom I was going out with. You seemed awake at the time, but I suppose you’ve forgotten.”
Yes she did. Nick’s brows furrowed together as if concentrating to remember. He did remember, of course. She told him that she was going somewhere with someone – nothing specific though. At first, Nick thought it was just a dream, but after the physician told him that Claire went with Mrs. Hawthorne to Newgate, he became certain that he was not dreaming. Still, he wanted to hear from her where she went and who she went with.
It was obvious, though, with the tone she used on him, that his wife was not pleased by his dominant and demanding nature. Claire was an alpha on her own, which was expected of an only child of a very powerful man. She seemed to be the type who was used to giving orders and having things her way. However, she was a married woman who was expected to submit to her husband. Therefore when she stood at the foot of the bed in her undergarments, even her lack of decent clothing did little to uplift his mood.
”I just wanted to do what was right, it wasn’t exactly a trip I would label as fun, Nicholas. And you can call me what you like for using my family name in such a manner, but I informed you of my whereabouts beforehand and was with Lucy the entire time. We went straight to Newgate prison, left, I let her off at her house, and I came straight back. If my being gone bothers you then you can rest easy tomorrow because I’m staying in all day.”
“You did not inform me where you were going, Claire. I was half-awake, but I certainly heard and understood what you said,” he countered, getting up to a sitting position. His voice had its usual authoritative tone, touched with a hint of annoyance. “Had I known that you were going to visit an accused spy, I would have insisted that you stay in the house.”
Claire just stared at him. Her emerald eyes reflected the amber glow of the lamps as if they were the ones lit by fire. She looked as if she was both mad and disappointed in him. He couldn’t see why. She was the one who left without telling him where she was going, worse the night was certainly not young when she got back. He was worried. Did he manage to emphasize that? He was worried.
“I was worried…”
Nick broke eye contact at the same time she sighed and went out of his sight to change. The young man closed his eyes and leaned his head back to the headboard. Why was he letting this girl get into his head? He was supposed to be level-headed and tolerant of whatever she wished to do with her life. That was how they envisioned his short married life would be – with him doing his own business while she did hers.
He heard the closet doors creaked then opened his eyes. She stepped out in her nightgown, but instead of sharing his bed, she went straight to the couch. “Do you need anything else, Nicholas? It has been a very, very long day and tomorrow I will be busy planning our first ballroom party as a couple. You did marry me for my name, I thought it appropriate as soon as you’re well to meet some potential clients.”
It was Nick’s turn to sigh. “Yes, I did marry you for your name,” he muttered, then looking at her in the eyes, he added, “I suppose I should not, and I have no right, to meddle with what you do with your life. Therefore, allow me to thank you for agreeing to help me with our family business by lending your father’s name.”
He swung his legs to the side of the bed then used the bedpost to help him get up. Whatever Claire’s reaction was, he missed it. His back was already on her and he was busy steadying himself on his feet. If he wanted to avoid making a fool of himself, he should also avoid falling flat on his face. “Use the bed. I will find an empty bedroom,” which was what she proposed the night before – to sleep in different rooms, far away from each other.
The nightshirt he wore tightened around his shoulders as he almost limped to the door. If she said anything about his actions, he ignored it and went straight to the door, closing it quietly behind him.
Finding a spare bedroom was not a difficult task in a house as big as theirs. However, he did ask one of the house staff to prepare the room while he waited in his study. At the same time, Nick asked for a bottle of whiskey. That particular request earned an unwarranted protest, but being the master of the house, he won and a few minutes later a bottle and a glass was brought to his study.
It was at this state, sitting on a winged chair with a book on one hand and a glass of whiskey on the other, that Timothy found his colleague. The other man was dressed in black trousers and gray waistcoat. His hat had been entrusted to Nick’s butler and his blonde hair was loosely touching his shoulders.
“To what do I owe this visit, cousin,” Nicholas acknowledged Tim’s presence in a grim voice that hinted he was not in the mood to chat.
Tim put-off answering Nick’s question until he was perched on Nick’s office table. “An observation, Rochford, if you will. You look to be in better shape tonight than you were this morning.”
Nick nodded before taking a sip from his glass as if to make a point.
Timothy shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have news for you,” he explained, earning him a raised brow from Nicholas. “However, this is not the kind of news that will improve your apparently sour mood tonight.”
“He still refuses to talk?” Nick asked in a low voice. How he wanted to get down to Newgate and squeeze the answers from the traitor himself. Anything to take his mind off Claire’s annoying and confusing attitude. “Bring me in. Talk to Dr. McQuerin, and testify that I am well enough to --”
“That is not it,” Tim interrupted. “Nick, he is dead.”
Those blue eyes narrowed at Timothy. What did he just say? “How is that possible?” he asked slowly. “You did give him water, correct? And some excuse for food to keep him sane enough to talk, did you?”
Timothy was shaking his head. He was as at a loss as Nicholas. Matthew was their key to closing the assignment. He was supposed to give them answers and not die on them to take his secrets to the grave.
Nick looked away and refilled his glass almost to the brim. He guessed what was coming next. “Matthew’s wife and Claire are among the last people that Matthew saw before he died,” Tim confirmed what Nick was thinking. “He ate food the ladies brought, but the prison also gave him food for dinner, which he also ate before we brought him to the chamber.”
Half Nicholas’ glass was empty when Timothy finished talking. They already brought Matthew to the chamber, which meant Tim was prepared to resort to physical and mental torture to break their prisoner’s resolve. They might have already started when Matthew died, and by the look Tim was giving him, they did. There were so many variables to consider. Nick downed the other half then breathed a long heavy breath.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he set down his glass. “Does this mean Claire is a suspect?”
“Unfortunately,” Tim admitted. “So is your cook and Hawthorne’s cook. Your household will be under the scrutiny of the police in the next few days.” And most of the police was not oriented with their operation due to its sensitivity and the thinking that the spies might be anybody, even the people behind the MET. “I came only to warn you, cousin. I’m afraid I cannot join you for a drink.”
Yes she did. Nick’s brows furrowed together as if concentrating to remember. He did remember, of course. She told him that she was going somewhere with someone – nothing specific though. At first, Nick thought it was just a dream, but after the physician told him that Claire went with Mrs. Hawthorne to Newgate, he became certain that he was not dreaming. Still, he wanted to hear from her where she went and who she went with.
It was obvious, though, with the tone she used on him, that his wife was not pleased by his dominant and demanding nature. Claire was an alpha on her own, which was expected of an only child of a very powerful man. She seemed to be the type who was used to giving orders and having things her way. However, she was a married woman who was expected to submit to her husband. Therefore when she stood at the foot of the bed in her undergarments, even her lack of decent clothing did little to uplift his mood.
”I just wanted to do what was right, it wasn’t exactly a trip I would label as fun, Nicholas. And you can call me what you like for using my family name in such a manner, but I informed you of my whereabouts beforehand and was with Lucy the entire time. We went straight to Newgate prison, left, I let her off at her house, and I came straight back. If my being gone bothers you then you can rest easy tomorrow because I’m staying in all day.”
“You did not inform me where you were going, Claire. I was half-awake, but I certainly heard and understood what you said,” he countered, getting up to a sitting position. His voice had its usual authoritative tone, touched with a hint of annoyance. “Had I known that you were going to visit an accused spy, I would have insisted that you stay in the house.”
Claire just stared at him. Her emerald eyes reflected the amber glow of the lamps as if they were the ones lit by fire. She looked as if she was both mad and disappointed in him. He couldn’t see why. She was the one who left without telling him where she was going, worse the night was certainly not young when she got back. He was worried. Did he manage to emphasize that? He was worried.
“I was worried…”
Nick broke eye contact at the same time she sighed and went out of his sight to change. The young man closed his eyes and leaned his head back to the headboard. Why was he letting this girl get into his head? He was supposed to be level-headed and tolerant of whatever she wished to do with her life. That was how they envisioned his short married life would be – with him doing his own business while she did hers.
He heard the closet doors creaked then opened his eyes. She stepped out in her nightgown, but instead of sharing his bed, she went straight to the couch. “Do you need anything else, Nicholas? It has been a very, very long day and tomorrow I will be busy planning our first ballroom party as a couple. You did marry me for my name, I thought it appropriate as soon as you’re well to meet some potential clients.”
It was Nick’s turn to sigh. “Yes, I did marry you for your name,” he muttered, then looking at her in the eyes, he added, “I suppose I should not, and I have no right, to meddle with what you do with your life. Therefore, allow me to thank you for agreeing to help me with our family business by lending your father’s name.”
He swung his legs to the side of the bed then used the bedpost to help him get up. Whatever Claire’s reaction was, he missed it. His back was already on her and he was busy steadying himself on his feet. If he wanted to avoid making a fool of himself, he should also avoid falling flat on his face. “Use the bed. I will find an empty bedroom,” which was what she proposed the night before – to sleep in different rooms, far away from each other.
The nightshirt he wore tightened around his shoulders as he almost limped to the door. If she said anything about his actions, he ignored it and went straight to the door, closing it quietly behind him.
Finding a spare bedroom was not a difficult task in a house as big as theirs. However, he did ask one of the house staff to prepare the room while he waited in his study. At the same time, Nick asked for a bottle of whiskey. That particular request earned an unwarranted protest, but being the master of the house, he won and a few minutes later a bottle and a glass was brought to his study.
It was at this state, sitting on a winged chair with a book on one hand and a glass of whiskey on the other, that Timothy found his colleague. The other man was dressed in black trousers and gray waistcoat. His hat had been entrusted to Nick’s butler and his blonde hair was loosely touching his shoulders.
“To what do I owe this visit, cousin,” Nicholas acknowledged Tim’s presence in a grim voice that hinted he was not in the mood to chat.
Tim put-off answering Nick’s question until he was perched on Nick’s office table. “An observation, Rochford, if you will. You look to be in better shape tonight than you were this morning.”
Nick nodded before taking a sip from his glass as if to make a point.
Timothy shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have news for you,” he explained, earning him a raised brow from Nicholas. “However, this is not the kind of news that will improve your apparently sour mood tonight.”
“He still refuses to talk?” Nick asked in a low voice. How he wanted to get down to Newgate and squeeze the answers from the traitor himself. Anything to take his mind off Claire’s annoying and confusing attitude. “Bring me in. Talk to Dr. McQuerin, and testify that I am well enough to --”
“That is not it,” Tim interrupted. “Nick, he is dead.”
Those blue eyes narrowed at Timothy. What did he just say? “How is that possible?” he asked slowly. “You did give him water, correct? And some excuse for food to keep him sane enough to talk, did you?”
Timothy was shaking his head. He was as at a loss as Nicholas. Matthew was their key to closing the assignment. He was supposed to give them answers and not die on them to take his secrets to the grave.
Nick looked away and refilled his glass almost to the brim. He guessed what was coming next. “Matthew’s wife and Claire are among the last people that Matthew saw before he died,” Tim confirmed what Nick was thinking. “He ate food the ladies brought, but the prison also gave him food for dinner, which he also ate before we brought him to the chamber.”
Half Nicholas’ glass was empty when Timothy finished talking. They already brought Matthew to the chamber, which meant Tim was prepared to resort to physical and mental torture to break their prisoner’s resolve. They might have already started when Matthew died, and by the look Tim was giving him, they did. There were so many variables to consider. Nick downed the other half then breathed a long heavy breath.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he set down his glass. “Does this mean Claire is a suspect?”
“Unfortunately,” Tim admitted. “So is your cook and Hawthorne’s cook. Your household will be under the scrutiny of the police in the next few days.” And most of the police was not oriented with their operation due to its sensitivity and the thinking that the spies might be anybody, even the people behind the MET. “I came only to warn you, cousin. I’m afraid I cannot join you for a drink.”
It was difficult to fall back into sleep after what the doctor told him. He would have wanted to discuss the matter thoroughly, but with the doctor’s assistant within earshot, Nick decided against it. Instead, he played the obedient patient who was man enough not to flinch at the doctor’s ministrations. Still, he couldn’t shake away the thought of two ladies entering a prison. What’s worse was that one of those ladies was his wife, who was not supposed to be in any way connected with Hawthorne.
Nick turned to his good side slowly where he could have a good view of the glass doors leading to the balcony. It was already night time. She had been gone for quite a long while and he stayed awake the whole time. He couldn’t help but wonder what she did at Newgate and how was she related to the Hawthornes. Her files failed to mention that she was a close friend of Lucy Hawthorne. Although there was possibility that that piece of trivial information was missed out, just like it was possible that Claire had an affair with Matthew.
Just as he was pondering what reasons Claire had to lie to him about her nightly activities, the door opened and somebody slipped into the dimly lit room. He remained still in his position, pretending to be asleep, while he peered at the person who entered his room. It didn’t take him long, though, even in the dark, to identify the new comer as his wife. She moved to the closet, which was fairly visible from his position on the bed.
Claire’s back was to him. Even in the dim light, he could see her open the closet and unceremoniously undressed. Because of the poor lighting, he could not see her fingers moving to unbutton her dress, but it did fall to her feet leaving only her undergarments. Nick composed himself. He ought to look away but he couldn’t bring himself to do just that. He vowed to himself that he would not take advantage of their situation, but she was so beautiful. The yellowish glow of the lamp touched her skin in an intimate way he wished he could, while the shadows only made her look more mysterious.
Before he could think any more thoughts admiring her, he cleared his throat to catch her attention. “Claire, where have you been? It’s late, a lady like you shouldn’t be outside without a chaperone at this hour.” He moved to give her more room on the bed, which he instantly thought was a bad idea. He was inviting her to spend the night with him, what was he thinking? Shouldn’t they be sleeping separately like he proposed?
“I do not want you wandering outside after dark without a chaperone. Take one of your maids and our carriage if you must, but I need to know where you are going.” He thought he sounded like his mother, but continued nevertheless. “It doesn’t feel very nice to be left here in this bed, helplessly worrying if my wife will make it back home. Tell me where you’ve been and who you are with,” Nick demanded. If he was worried, he thought to himself, it was only because she might do something to compromise his position and therefore his mission. It was all about his work, there was nothing personal about worrying for her safety.
Nick turned to his good side slowly where he could have a good view of the glass doors leading to the balcony. It was already night time. She had been gone for quite a long while and he stayed awake the whole time. He couldn’t help but wonder what she did at Newgate and how was she related to the Hawthornes. Her files failed to mention that she was a close friend of Lucy Hawthorne. Although there was possibility that that piece of trivial information was missed out, just like it was possible that Claire had an affair with Matthew.
Just as he was pondering what reasons Claire had to lie to him about her nightly activities, the door opened and somebody slipped into the dimly lit room. He remained still in his position, pretending to be asleep, while he peered at the person who entered his room. It didn’t take him long, though, even in the dark, to identify the new comer as his wife. She moved to the closet, which was fairly visible from his position on the bed.
Claire’s back was to him. Even in the dim light, he could see her open the closet and unceremoniously undressed. Because of the poor lighting, he could not see her fingers moving to unbutton her dress, but it did fall to her feet leaving only her undergarments. Nick composed himself. He ought to look away but he couldn’t bring himself to do just that. He vowed to himself that he would not take advantage of their situation, but she was so beautiful. The yellowish glow of the lamp touched her skin in an intimate way he wished he could, while the shadows only made her look more mysterious.
Before he could think any more thoughts admiring her, he cleared his throat to catch her attention. “Claire, where have you been? It’s late, a lady like you shouldn’t be outside without a chaperone at this hour.” He moved to give her more room on the bed, which he instantly thought was a bad idea. He was inviting her to spend the night with him, what was he thinking? Shouldn’t they be sleeping separately like he proposed?
“I do not want you wandering outside after dark without a chaperone. Take one of your maids and our carriage if you must, but I need to know where you are going.” He thought he sounded like his mother, but continued nevertheless. “It doesn’t feel very nice to be left here in this bed, helplessly worrying if my wife will make it back home. Tell me where you’ve been and who you are with,” Nick demanded. If he was worried, he thought to himself, it was only because she might do something to compromise his position and therefore his mission. It was all about his work, there was nothing personal about worrying for her safety.
Nick stayed awake long after his wife fell asleep at his side. He stared long at the ceiling, at nothing in particular, listening to her even breathing and wondering what was going on outside their room. Many hours had already passed since he was cut off from the operation and the only news that he got was a three-worded message telling him that their captive wouldn’t talk. He wondered if it meant that Matthew Hawthorne was denying the accusation despite the glaring evidence against him. It was difficult to accuse a member of the ton, even if he had no title attached to his name. Blood was thick and family ties were strong. He wished his partner had brought him London Daily News instead of the book, then he could have read what was happening outside his room.
Sighing heavily, he turned to his wife. Claire Elizabeth Rochford, he had told her. The name felt right when he said it and for the first time he didn’t see any objection flash on her face. He was being too hard on her thinking that she was a whore while he pretended to be the perfect gentleman. What if what she was saying was true? Nick kissed the top of her head then closed his eyes, avoiding the thoughts that would follow.
The rest of the day was a blur. Nick drifted in and out of consciousness. His dreams mingled with reality in one confusing memory. At one point he felt his wife get up and he thought he groaned in protest, but was not sure that he really did. Then there was a rustling sound inside the bedroom followed by light. And there was sound of a chair being dragged on the floor before he heard Claire’s voice explaining how she would go somewhere with a friend and then she was gone. Until finally somebody had the guts to shake him out of his sleep.
Nick opened his eyes only to see the doctor hovering over him. “Let me guess how you are feeling today, Mr. Rochford,” the doctor beamed at him. “You are feeling terribly weak and you blame it on the blood your body had lost. That is correct, however, it does not take a doctor to know that your body will not recover on its own without proper nutrients fed to it.”
Nick yawned and pushed himself up using his elbows, but the doctor and his assistant was there to help him sit up so the task was infinitely easier. He looked around the room and at the tray at his bedside. There was only him, the doctor and his assistant. “Where’s Claire?” he asked.
“Ah, your wife,” the doctor drawled, retrieving the tray and setting it down on the bed. “Do you require her to feed you your lunch?” Nick only glared at him, but the doctor didn’t seem to take offense. “Your wife and a friend went out earlier this afternoon.”
So it was already past lunch time. He had almost slept the day away again. Then he remembered a dream, or was it real, about Claire telling him that she was going somewhere. Nick nodded, watching the doctor reveal sandwiches for Nick’s lunch.
“We’ll try solid food,” the doctor explained. “Eat slowly. If you can handle this then maybe we will have you returned to your regular diet. That means no more gruel.”
“That is too bad, I did enjoy my breakfast,” he answered dryly.
The doctor snorted. “After you’re done eating, we will have the wound cleaned.”
“I understand, thank you.”
The doctor turned to leave. “I will be in your parlor drinking tea with my assistant. We will be back in a few minutes, but do not feel the need to rush your meal. Remember to chew thoroughly and eat slowly.”
Nick nodded, taking a small bite of his sandwich. “And by the way, I had spoken with your half-French cousin,” the doctor scratched his chin and looked up thinking. “His name is Timothy, I believe. He said that he saw your wife with Mrs. Hawthorne headed for Newgate.”
***********
It was not obvious with Matthew Hawthorne’s build that he would be a difficult subject to interrogate. For one, he did not look like he had a strong will, perhaps because of the weak chin and slightly chubby physique. Then again, they had not fed him any meal since he was detained, but he still would not change his statement.
Timothy was inside the interrogation chamber staring at the thinner version of the proud Matthew. They had not yet resulted to physical damage, since this man was a brother of a Baron and there was a chance, though very slim, that he was innocent. The initial plan was to starve him to break his spirits, but the plan didn’t seem to be working and Matthew was staring back at Timothy with dark circles under his eyes.
“I know nothing of the accusations,” Matthew repeated for the hundredth time that day. “If you would please admit to your mistake and set me free this instant, then perhaps I would find mercy not to have your head for mistreating a brother to a Baron.”
“If you would only use that energy to confess the truth, then we would have been finished and you would have eaten a fairly decent meal.” Of course it might be his last meal, for if proven a traitor, the parliament and the queen would have this man hanged. Tim stood up. One more day, then perhaps he would get clearance to resort to a different method in convincing their captive that it was a good idea to share what he knew.
He was almost to the door when a guard showed up. “Sir, his wife is here to visit him.”
“Tell her no.” He looked over his shoulder at Matthew. “This is part of your punishment, Mr. Hawthorne, for making my work harder than it should be.”
“But sir,” the guard interrupted. “Mrs. Hawthorne is with the Lord Abbott’s daughter and –“
“Claire?”
“Yes, sir. Miss Claire – I mean Mrs. Rochford – the duke’s daughter. She threatens to involve the duke in the negotiation if we do not let them have a word with Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Let me out first,” Tim instructed. Nick would not like it that his wife was involving herself with these people. They had all hoped that Claire would stay out of their business and that Nick would entertain her to the point where she wouldn’t want to get out of their estate. That was why they were given such a tedious estate anyway. They had hoped that her feminine whims would keep her busy. “Let them in,” he whispered to the guard, leading them from the locked cell of Matthew. “However, wait for me to leave the premises. And whatever any of them gives to the prisoner, be sure to sample it."
"Mrs. Hawthorne brought sandwiches."
"Then be sure to taste one of her sandwiches. Be the one to choose which one to taste. If anything seems funny, do not let the prisoner have it. Do you understand?”
Sighing heavily, he turned to his wife. Claire Elizabeth Rochford, he had told her. The name felt right when he said it and for the first time he didn’t see any objection flash on her face. He was being too hard on her thinking that she was a whore while he pretended to be the perfect gentleman. What if what she was saying was true? Nick kissed the top of her head then closed his eyes, avoiding the thoughts that would follow.
The rest of the day was a blur. Nick drifted in and out of consciousness. His dreams mingled with reality in one confusing memory. At one point he felt his wife get up and he thought he groaned in protest, but was not sure that he really did. Then there was a rustling sound inside the bedroom followed by light. And there was sound of a chair being dragged on the floor before he heard Claire’s voice explaining how she would go somewhere with a friend and then she was gone. Until finally somebody had the guts to shake him out of his sleep.
Nick opened his eyes only to see the doctor hovering over him. “Let me guess how you are feeling today, Mr. Rochford,” the doctor beamed at him. “You are feeling terribly weak and you blame it on the blood your body had lost. That is correct, however, it does not take a doctor to know that your body will not recover on its own without proper nutrients fed to it.”
Nick yawned and pushed himself up using his elbows, but the doctor and his assistant was there to help him sit up so the task was infinitely easier. He looked around the room and at the tray at his bedside. There was only him, the doctor and his assistant. “Where’s Claire?” he asked.
“Ah, your wife,” the doctor drawled, retrieving the tray and setting it down on the bed. “Do you require her to feed you your lunch?” Nick only glared at him, but the doctor didn’t seem to take offense. “Your wife and a friend went out earlier this afternoon.”
So it was already past lunch time. He had almost slept the day away again. Then he remembered a dream, or was it real, about Claire telling him that she was going somewhere. Nick nodded, watching the doctor reveal sandwiches for Nick’s lunch.
“We’ll try solid food,” the doctor explained. “Eat slowly. If you can handle this then maybe we will have you returned to your regular diet. That means no more gruel.”
“That is too bad, I did enjoy my breakfast,” he answered dryly.
The doctor snorted. “After you’re done eating, we will have the wound cleaned.”
“I understand, thank you.”
The doctor turned to leave. “I will be in your parlor drinking tea with my assistant. We will be back in a few minutes, but do not feel the need to rush your meal. Remember to chew thoroughly and eat slowly.”
Nick nodded, taking a small bite of his sandwich. “And by the way, I had spoken with your half-French cousin,” the doctor scratched his chin and looked up thinking. “His name is Timothy, I believe. He said that he saw your wife with Mrs. Hawthorne headed for Newgate.”
***********
It was not obvious with Matthew Hawthorne’s build that he would be a difficult subject to interrogate. For one, he did not look like he had a strong will, perhaps because of the weak chin and slightly chubby physique. Then again, they had not fed him any meal since he was detained, but he still would not change his statement.
Timothy was inside the interrogation chamber staring at the thinner version of the proud Matthew. They had not yet resulted to physical damage, since this man was a brother of a Baron and there was a chance, though very slim, that he was innocent. The initial plan was to starve him to break his spirits, but the plan didn’t seem to be working and Matthew was staring back at Timothy with dark circles under his eyes.
“I know nothing of the accusations,” Matthew repeated for the hundredth time that day. “If you would please admit to your mistake and set me free this instant, then perhaps I would find mercy not to have your head for mistreating a brother to a Baron.”
“If you would only use that energy to confess the truth, then we would have been finished and you would have eaten a fairly decent meal.” Of course it might be his last meal, for if proven a traitor, the parliament and the queen would have this man hanged. Tim stood up. One more day, then perhaps he would get clearance to resort to a different method in convincing their captive that it was a good idea to share what he knew.
He was almost to the door when a guard showed up. “Sir, his wife is here to visit him.”
“Tell her no.” He looked over his shoulder at Matthew. “This is part of your punishment, Mr. Hawthorne, for making my work harder than it should be.”
“But sir,” the guard interrupted. “Mrs. Hawthorne is with the Lord Abbott’s daughter and –“
“Claire?”
“Yes, sir. Miss Claire – I mean Mrs. Rochford – the duke’s daughter. She threatens to involve the duke in the negotiation if we do not let them have a word with Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Let me out first,” Tim instructed. Nick would not like it that his wife was involving herself with these people. They had all hoped that Claire would stay out of their business and that Nick would entertain her to the point where she wouldn’t want to get out of their estate. That was why they were given such a tedious estate anyway. They had hoped that her feminine whims would keep her busy. “Let them in,” he whispered to the guard, leading them from the locked cell of Matthew. “However, wait for me to leave the premises. And whatever any of them gives to the prisoner, be sure to sample it."
"Mrs. Hawthorne brought sandwiches."
"Then be sure to taste one of her sandwiches. Be the one to choose which one to taste. If anything seems funny, do not let the prisoner have it. Do you understand?”
In
Fantasy/medieval/Lord of the Rings/Elder Scrolls/Pirates - Casual and Advanced
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
I'd like to try to apply for the epic fantasy, please. I can post at least once a day during most days.
It's ok. That happens to me as well and I've been working in the same schedule for 3 years now. Cut I'm excited to read what Claire is up to. :)
Yup, that's him. And I think that it's only natural for Claire to breakdown because of what is being asked of her. it didn't make her look weak.
They both lived in a ruthless time, when most of what mattered was the society’s opinion on one’s self. Reputation was therefore as valuable as gold and to have one’s own tarnished was sometimes worse than being disowned by the family, for it was the rest of London’s upper class who was disowning the person. Because of this, Nicholas understood what made Claire very upset. However, what he did not know yet was whether or not to believe in what the young woman just told him.
He had listened with his mouth in a flat line, and his face blank. She had stared at him the whole time, those green eyes desperate and pleading for him to believe the truth in her words. Yet there was nothing to support her words. It was indeed Mr. Wallace’s word against hers. The unfortunate thing was that in the world where they lived in, a man’s lie weighed more than the truth professed by a woman. Nick had no reason to believe her neither did he any reason to discover the truth of the matter. Her mishap made it possible for their arranged marriage to happen, and he needed the marriage to complete his mission. Therefore whether or not what she was saying was true, he was thankful that her reputation was damaged.
Whatever he was thinking need not surface though. On the outside, Nick held his wife who was trembling like a leaf in autumn. His arm tightened around her then he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Hush,” he murmured into her hair. “That is all in the past, Claire. You have me now.” For now, he thought. For a short while.
“I am married to you, and I have every reason to trust you.” Nick turned to his side so he could look her straight in the eye. When he agreed to marry Claire, both he and Bennett thought that she was an adulterer, whose fondness in involving herself with other married men would not complicate Nick’s secret life. He planned on allowing her to do as she pleased, even if it meant sleeping with other men. But here was a woman whose life was allegedly broken into pieces by a single lie.
Nick’s free hand touched her face. He used his thumb to wipe the remaining tears on her face then he smiled and hoped that his expression looked sympathetic and reassuring. She was correct. Everyone assumed that she was a whore and by everyone, it meant including him. But as a good husband, he cannot admit that to her face. At the same time, he cannot give in to the temptation that was her soft body pressed against him. If what she said was true, then more than ever, he could never deserve her.
Nick was already using her as a tool. He thought it utterly unfair to take advantage of their situation. After him, she could find a suitable husband whom she could really spend the rest of her life with. Maybe that man would marry her for love, or maybe not, but that man could never be him.
“It doesn’t matter that we got married because of our fathers. I agreed to take you as my wife even after hearing about the rumors about you circulating in London. This means I will accept and will tolerate you whether or not the rumors are true. So don’t cry, Claire,” he told her. And by saying those words, he did lie, but what was he to say that will not make her more upset? That he married her because she was what Bennett called the lowest hanging fruit? Meanwhile, the same hand that wiped her tears moved to her hair to pull the ribbons out one by one. Then he made sure her hair was free by running his hand on its soft length. “I like you better smiling, even if you are smiling because you have thought of a perfectly evil plan to get back at me for something I did to upset you. And I like touching your hair. Not to mention kissing you. Here.” His thumb brushed over her lips lightly then the same hand touched her chin and tilted her face up so he could have better access to her soft lips. Nick kissed her, gently at first, gaining momentum until they were both out of breath. He pulled away only to turn his attention to the line of her jaw, which he traced with light kisses. “You are a wonderful person, Claire Elizabeth Rochford,” he whispered to her ear, breathing heavy, deliberately attaching his name to hers. “And now we are stuck with each other. Together.”
He withdrew and lay down on his back, while her head was on his shoulder and her arm rested on his stomach. Staring up at the ceiling, he added, “Stop thinking about the past or what London thinks. You have me now. As your husband, it’s my duty to stand by you so go to sleep. Everything is going to be alright.” Nick smiled and looked at her sideways. “Trust me, everything is going to be alright.”
He had listened with his mouth in a flat line, and his face blank. She had stared at him the whole time, those green eyes desperate and pleading for him to believe the truth in her words. Yet there was nothing to support her words. It was indeed Mr. Wallace’s word against hers. The unfortunate thing was that in the world where they lived in, a man’s lie weighed more than the truth professed by a woman. Nick had no reason to believe her neither did he any reason to discover the truth of the matter. Her mishap made it possible for their arranged marriage to happen, and he needed the marriage to complete his mission. Therefore whether or not what she was saying was true, he was thankful that her reputation was damaged.
Whatever he was thinking need not surface though. On the outside, Nick held his wife who was trembling like a leaf in autumn. His arm tightened around her then he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Hush,” he murmured into her hair. “That is all in the past, Claire. You have me now.” For now, he thought. For a short while.
“I am married to you, and I have every reason to trust you.” Nick turned to his side so he could look her straight in the eye. When he agreed to marry Claire, both he and Bennett thought that she was an adulterer, whose fondness in involving herself with other married men would not complicate Nick’s secret life. He planned on allowing her to do as she pleased, even if it meant sleeping with other men. But here was a woman whose life was allegedly broken into pieces by a single lie.
Nick’s free hand touched her face. He used his thumb to wipe the remaining tears on her face then he smiled and hoped that his expression looked sympathetic and reassuring. She was correct. Everyone assumed that she was a whore and by everyone, it meant including him. But as a good husband, he cannot admit that to her face. At the same time, he cannot give in to the temptation that was her soft body pressed against him. If what she said was true, then more than ever, he could never deserve her.
Nick was already using her as a tool. He thought it utterly unfair to take advantage of their situation. After him, she could find a suitable husband whom she could really spend the rest of her life with. Maybe that man would marry her for love, or maybe not, but that man could never be him.
“It doesn’t matter that we got married because of our fathers. I agreed to take you as my wife even after hearing about the rumors about you circulating in London. This means I will accept and will tolerate you whether or not the rumors are true. So don’t cry, Claire,” he told her. And by saying those words, he did lie, but what was he to say that will not make her more upset? That he married her because she was what Bennett called the lowest hanging fruit? Meanwhile, the same hand that wiped her tears moved to her hair to pull the ribbons out one by one. Then he made sure her hair was free by running his hand on its soft length. “I like you better smiling, even if you are smiling because you have thought of a perfectly evil plan to get back at me for something I did to upset you. And I like touching your hair. Not to mention kissing you. Here.” His thumb brushed over her lips lightly then the same hand touched her chin and tilted her face up so he could have better access to her soft lips. Nick kissed her, gently at first, gaining momentum until they were both out of breath. He pulled away only to turn his attention to the line of her jaw, which he traced with light kisses. “You are a wonderful person, Claire Elizabeth Rochford,” he whispered to her ear, breathing heavy, deliberately attaching his name to hers. “And now we are stuck with each other. Together.”
He withdrew and lay down on his back, while her head was on his shoulder and her arm rested on his stomach. Staring up at the ceiling, he added, “Stop thinking about the past or what London thinks. You have me now. As your husband, it’s my duty to stand by you so go to sleep. Everything is going to be alright.” Nick smiled and looked at her sideways. “Trust me, everything is going to be alright.”
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