Capsize | h.s

Fourteen

"Come," Celia said as she practically dragged her sister down the corridor, "you will sleep with me tonight."

Isabel sobbed uncontrollably the entire way to their bed chambers. Celia requested a hot bath from a servant as soon as they made it to the room, and right when the door clicked shut behind the servant girl, she turned to face her weeping sister. Sitting on the edge of Celia's bed, Isabel buried her face in her trembling palms as the never ending waterfall spilled from her blue pools.

"Izzy," Celia whispered, kneeling down in front of her. There was no answer, only sobs. She quickly grabbed Isabel's wrists and tore her hands from her face, holding them firmly in her lap. "Isabel!" Her voice was tight, catching Isabel by surprise, and her weeping stopped abruptly. Celia made an effort to calm her voice. "Izzy, dear sister," she began, "tell me what happened."

Isabel opened her mouth to speak, her lips quivering. "Father was killed right in front of me," she said, her voice tremulous and soft. "I watched the sword go through his chest like a needle sticking a piece of fabric. Blood spewed and gushed and those horrid people sneered with gladness." A single tear dropped from her eye and trailed down her dusty cheek, dropping off her chin and splattering onto Celia's hand.

Celia's heart raced wildly within her chest, each beat like the clamoring hooves of a galloping steed against a dirt road. She closed her eyes briefly to gain her composure and then looked into Isabel's distant eyes. "Did they harm you?"

"No," she answered plainly. "Although, I imagine they had planned to."

Celia took in a shaky breath just as the servant entered the room again, announcing that the bath had been drawn and was ready for Isabel. She watched as the servant took Isabel's arm and guided her to the washroom, then deciding to head to the garderobe. She slipped behind the curtain and sat down on the cold wooden surface, praying to God that she would bleed. She watched as she released her fluids, and there was no sign of blood.

Her heart sank.

Celia was overdue and her monthly pains had not given her any aches, which they should have been. She quickly rushed to the washroom where Isabel was sitting in the tub by a fireplace, the servant standing in a corner of the room silently. Padding across the room, she smiled before she whispered into the servants ear.

"Could you do me a favor?" she asked. The girl nodded and leaned in. "I need you to fetch me some herbs."

"What kind, Mistress?"

"Mandrake." The girl leaned back and furrowed her faint brows. "It's for my monthly cause," Celia assured her, lying through her teeth.

"Of course, Mistress," the girl curtseyed. "I'll bring it to your chambers right away."

♛

Celia opened the door to her chambers and ushered Isabel inside. Her body was feeble and her eyelids were heavy as she blinked slowly, her focus unclear in the distance. Celia turned down the blanket and lowered her into the bed, placing a light kiss on her forehead before motioning for a servant girl to begin undressing her.

Beatrice sat at the edge of her bed, her hands covering something in her lap. As the servant removed Celia's gown, she narrowed her eyes at the object in an attempt to make it out. "What have you got?"

Beatrice's eyes snapped up as she held up the object in her hands. The root was large and lumpy, and Celia knew what it was straight away. "Mandrake, Celia?" Beatrice asked, her tone low and her eyes thin. "I know only two uses of this; witchcraft and ridding of a baby."

"Leave us," Celia said to the servant, who curtseyed and left the room without a word or second glance. "Bea—"

"I know you," she said. "And I know you wouldn't be so careless as to take up witchcraft. The punishment is death and you wouldn't put poor Isabel through another loss. So, whose baby is it?"

Celia glanced over to her sister who lay peacefully asleep in the bed. "I think you know," she said quietly.

"Curse that pirate!"

"Beatrice, lower your voice!" Celia whispered harshly, scared that her sister would wake up. "It's just as much my fault as it is his."

"How could you be so reckless?"

"Since when are you one to care about reputations and doing the respectable thing?" Celia challenged.

"Oh, I see," Beatrice said. "Now that your beloved sister has returned, you don't give two wits about me!"

"That's not true and you know it! You have been my best friend since the moment you arrived here."

"Well, then you should know that I plan to marry Lord Byron."

There was a pause as Celia absorbed the sentence. "What?" she gaped.

"He's a very respectable man with a fair amount of land. I should think you'd be happy for me, if you are my best friend."

"Have you seen him without a mask on? His nose resembles a beak! And his eyes a rat's."

"Celia, will you make up your mind!" Beatrice said with frustration. "For God's sake, you're the one who has been nagging me to be sensible since the moment you returned."

"Sensible—yes. But don't settle for... him. What of Doctor Williams? He's very handsome and respectable."

"What?"

"The man you last danced with."

"Oh!" Beatrice said. "I thought the notion was too romantical for you."

Celia rolled her eyes at Beatrice's pettiness. "I care for you, Bea. All I want is for you to be happy. If that is with Lord Byron, then so be it, but I saw the way Luke mesmerized you."

Beatrice mustered a smile. "I care for you, too. Taking that mandrake is dangerous. I don't want to lose you."

Celia sighed, hugging her waist. "What else am I to do? If I carry his baby, I'll be deemed a whore and the child will be a bastard."

"Just be careful," Beatrice said. "Do your research before you do anything. And don't get caught."

"I won't."