Chapter 2 of Isabella's Heart/The Next book of series
Due out after the first of the year. Look for it on Amazon
Chapter 2
January 30, 1783, Pre-dawn hour
A Dorm Room, at The Sisters of Our Lady’s Finishing School for Young Ladies
Located In The English Countryside.
I heard the clock in the hallway chiming 4:00 a.m. as I tossed and turned restlessly. Unusual visions were clouding my normally peaceful dreams.
I could see three young men sitting in a tavern drinking ale, as the foul stench of urine and unwashed bodies assaulted my senses.
An overwhelming feeling of dread and fear coursed through my veins as I twisted in my sheets.
I tried to study the young men in my dream. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and they appeared to be celebrating some special occasion, but I couldn’t see their faces clearly. They were seated next to others, and people seemed to be mingling about them.
I asked myself, ‘Why am I feeling so ill at ease if the young men are having a good time? But more importantly, why am I having this dream at all?’
Those men in that establishment had nothing to do with me. In fact, I had never stepped foot into such an establishment; so why was this happening?
I felt sick to my stomach and I didn’t like the crude behavior I was forced to witness, but I couldn’t turn away.
I felt sweat trickle down my forehead and an image of a white pig kept running through the tavern, between my feet when I looked down. It was as if I was there with these men who were laughing and having a good time.
That was strange, why was a pig allowed to run free in a place where people were gathered and food was being served?
Nothing in this dream made any sense to me.
Suddenly, one young man excused himself and staggered to the back of the tavern. He began to heave up the contents of his stomach and I felt a sharp pain in my stomach at the same time. Wrapping my arms about my middle, I tried to comfort myself.
Making his way back to his companions, the young man placed his hand on the shoulder of one of his friends, “Hey Tommy, I think I’ve had enough celebration for one day. I’m going to find our room and sleep off this pounding in my head,” he said, throwing a few coins onto the table, before he headed for the door.
“Hey Charlie wait up, I’ll go with you,” Tommy shouted after him. “Ashton, the party is over, let’s go,” he said to the third man, seated across the table from them.
Slowly looking up from the young woman’s neck he was nuzzling, the young man acknowledged his companions.
‘Why had that man called out my brother’s name?’ Again nothing made sense to me. My brain seemed to be filled with a fog, and I felt nauseous and dizzy.
Downing the contents of his mug, the young man named Ashton kissed the cheek of the young woman seated on his lap. “Well sweetheart you heard the man, party’s over and I’m going to need my leg back,” Ashton said, immediately standing up, and unceremonious dumping the scantily clad woman onto her ample backside, before she could get her footing.
Staggering toward the door behind his friends, Ashton trotted to catch up, while trying to slip his coat on.
The three of them came together half way down the block, laughing about the crazy night they had just had. Propping Charlie up between them, they stumbled their way down the street. They were looking for the sign of the Royal Crown Inn, where they had secured lodgings for the night.
Realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. I had never had this experience before. The man they kept calling Charlie, was my Charlie; my twin brother, whom I hadn’t seen in three years, was celebrating his nineteenth birthday with his school chums and I was a witness to their garish of self-indulgence.
The clarity of colors in which I was now seeing everything seemed to pop out at me, as if I were standing right next to them.
The fog began to lift from my befuddled mind, and now I was feeling as clear as day. It was as if I was the fourth person standing right alongside the noisy, rambunctious trio.
I had always been aware of Charlie and his whereabouts in the past, but always in an intuitive way, I had never experienced visions of him before.
As I was digesting this new information, I felt a shroud of darkness descend upon me like thick London fog. My insides began to twist into a knot, and it felt like a fist to the gut.
Five very rough looking men had been watching the antics of Charlie and his two companions all night. They suddenly appeared, seeming to come out of nowhere to surround the three of them.
“You boys need some help finding lodgings for the night?” the larger man asked in a thick Irish accent.
“We know our way around just fine,” Ashton answered curtly, his blond good looks contorting into a grimace, as he tried to focus his eyes on the man speaking to them.
“You heard my friend, Monsieur, Casse-toi!” Charlie said, as his natural French accent came out stronger than his English one.
“Now, now, my young friends, there is no call for you to be so unfriendly. We just thought that maybe you gentlemen needed some assistance, finding some accommodations for the night,” the large man spoke again, trying to sound friendly and genuine, as he took two more steps toward the three men in the center.
But there was nothing genuine or friendly about him. There was something about his stance and overall demeanor that spoke volumes to me.
“My friend here just told you we are fine, and truly don’t require your assistance, so bug off,” Tommy chimed in, as an uneasy feeling crawled up his spine.
Suddenly, Charlie sobered up, and looked directly at me as if he knew I was standing right next to him. I could feel his fear and uneasiness, as if he were trying to send me a message. I could feel his mind and heart racing.
Charlie stood up a little taller and turned to look at the large man speaking to him. I could tell he was simply posturing, in hopes that his full height of six feet three inches, would be of some deterrence to the intruders. “If you are looking for money, we spent it in the pub tonight,” he said reaching into his trouser pocket. Charlie fished around for a moment hoping that he had remembered to place his dagger in it before he left his dorm room earlier that day.
I felt the sickening feeling he got when he realized the dagger wasn’t there. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach.
Trying to think fast, Charlie decided to take another approach, “What do you know? I seem to have a few coins left over. This should be sufficient for your needs boys. Why don’t you have another round of drinks on me?” Charlie said pulling three coins from his pocket and flipping them at the large man, as the man just let the coins land at his feet and roll into the gutter.
“Now is that any way to treat a Good Samaritan, who just wants to help you find a comfortable place to lay your pretty little heads down for the night?” another man said, standing directly behind Charlie, causing him to jump in surprise.
“Now look what you’ve gone and done, you’ve hurt my friend’s feelings by throwing money at him,” a different man chimed in, as he took two steps closer, tightening the circle around the boys.
Two large rats scurried from the gutter where the coins landed, as the smell of salty sea air, pungent and thick, assaulted my senses. A chill ran down my spine.
The entire scene played out before my eyes, and my cries for Charlie and his hapless companions froze in my throat. My blood felt like ice as it coursed through my veins. I wanted to warn them, or scream that they should run!
But it was too late. The men were closing the circle about Charlie, Ashton and Tommy, and I felt the bile churn in my stomach as a tear rolled down my cheek.
Charlie once again turned and looked directly at me. I could hear his words even though his lips didn’t move. ‘I feel you there. I know you can see me. If we survive this fight, you have to find me. I know you can find me Bella.’
Turning away from me now, Charlie got into a defensive position and the three of them placed their backs together in a triangle formation. This was the classic stance of the Musketeers. Charlie and I had learned it when we took fencing lessons from a man we called uncle. He had taught many a Musketeer at the academy.
I was suddenly struck by Charlie’s loyalty to his two best friends, because he had obviously cared enough about them to teach Ashton and Tommy what to do in a situation such as this.
I didn’t want to witness what came next. But like a carriage mishap on the side of the road, it was impossible not to stare and wonder if anyone lay dead next to the overturned wreckage.
Punches began to fly as fists connected with solid bone. The sickening sound of a grown man’s fist connecting with another man’s jaw made me clench my stomach as the taste of bile lingered in my mouth. The smell of desperation hung heavy in the air and I cried out for my brother as he fought for his life.
