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A night of rebellion

Historical / Thriller novel. The story is set in England around the early 1700s. A special, beautiful girl is born within the walls of Warwick Castle. But nobody really knows about the mask of falsehood with which this perfect girl manages to hide a much sadistic and mysterious character. A series of cold-blooded murders begin to become the norm at court, or at least until .... Book suitable for thriller lovers and for people not easily impressionable Suited to an adult or 14+ public

Smiley_Lux · ย้อนยุค
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164 Chs

Family threats

She took her golden hair in one of her delicate hands, combed it delicately with her woody brush.

She passed that object again and again of her beautiful soft and wavy hair, they sprinkled the smell of the fragrant lavender oil.

One of her servants helped Isabelle to gather her hair into a neat hairstyle, she twisted some of the locks in braids, tried to make the best of it even if the mass of the young woman's hair was enormously long and pompous.

The princess was still in a night dress, in a light, thin nightgown, of a white colour, mixed with yellowish, which formed a creamy white.

Her breasts were partially visible from the thin but fine nightgown, all due to the sweat and humidity that had happened that night.

Isabelle looked at her image of her in the mirror, her hair, her delicate pale face blushing only more on her cheek, her soft, sweet lips.

Her small nose turned upwards, her big eyes, empty in some sense, devoid of emotion.

What was happening to her? She was perfect, she was magnificent, her appearance did not lie but all of a sudden it was as if she felt empty, she felt that something was missing.

But what could it be? She had everything, yet she felt an emptiness inside her, a lack she couldn't fill.

-Are you all right my lady?- asked the girl, a few years younger than her, who at that moment was employed in the care of her hair.

It was nice that someone cared about her but she didn't need it, it wasn't necessary, especially at that moment, that it was a simple bourgeois to cheer her up.

The princess looked through the reflection at the blue eyes of the woman, they seemed somehow alive, more active than hers, they seemed those of a girl who still has the illusion of a perfect life.

But her life would have been no different from any other that a lady could wait for: marrying a man her parents would have chosen for her, giving him children and most likely not exceeding seventy years of age.

It was so naively nice to see someone in that situation still have hope, it was all a little more soothing in some ways.

Incredible how much gaze, eye contact counted in everyday life for humans.

The eyes were the mirrors of the soul, thanks to them she could understand if a person was sad, see tears come out of the eyes, be able to distinguish despair from happiness, all by observing those deep and sincere wells of truth.

-Don't you worry unnecessarily, my dear companion, nothing you can understand now is happening in my heart-.

The young attendant remained silent, she lowered her gaze, went back to gently but precisely dip her hands into the lady's soft hair, to form small braids and hairstyles.

The princess's hair smelled of sweetness, of flowers, of different aromas also taken from different fruits, orange, lime, mandarin.

-You are right my lady, I am just a simple hairdresser and you are a princess, it is no surprise that our feelings are so different...- the girl admitted.

-Do you want me to call your servants to help put on and tighten the corset once I have finished with your hair?- the young attendant asked, personally proud of the hard work she had been doing for more than an hour.

Managing that huge mass of hair was not at all simple and being able to satisfy a royal, according to her knowledge was even more difficult, so she just had to be proud of herself.

In any case, Isabelle nodded weakly, she tried to put a smile on her soft and sweet lips.

It was important that she wore a corset if she wanted to impress people, although she had to admit that by the time she was twenty-seven, her ribs had started to ache due to the tightening of that accessory.

Corset of latex and precious fabric that every morning she made her attendants tighten thanks to white ribbons.

The tighter the corset, the more charming her appearance would be in the eyes of the lords and the more charm would give her one more chance of getting pregnant by one of them.

A light knock was heard echoing inside the room, it was strange to perceive the presence of some stranger, to know someone was about to visit her.

She sincerely hoped it was one of the admirers that she had charmed, she seriously hoped it was a boy or possibly even an older man who in any way would have desperately asked for her hand.

Isabelle loved that drama, that despair, that yearning, the awareness and desire for an impossible love, she loved playing with the feelings of others, especially when these feelings were aimed at herself.

-Come on, please- invited the princess placing a light and arrogant smile on her face, she carefully arranged her hairstyle, her soft and blond hair on her head.

On one side she could hear the splashing of the water, the rubbing of the hands with soap, very close to her, she knew the attendant who had served her as a hairdresser was washing her hands at that moment with the fragrant lemon water placed on the coffee table next to her.

The door opened slowly, letting a slight creak out of its hinges.

Isabelle slowly got up from the soft and precious padded wooden chair, where she used to sit before, she adjusted her dress so as to avoid the creasing of the fabric.

-Adored uncle, what a pleasure to be able to meet you again...- the princess tried as much as she could to fill her heart with joy, despite that sudden meeting was completely unexpected and for obvious reasons caused her a subtle shadow of fear.

The man was on his respective sides accompanied by two young men of almost the same appearance, golden brown hair, grey eyes the colour of ashes, that meeting was ending in a great family gathering.

-Cousin Leonhard, cousin Marten, it is a pleasure to meet you too of course- the young woman admitted falsifying every courtesy and paying attention to the moves she made.

If her late cousin John's father and younger brothers had come to her it was certainly not for an ordinary visit, she knew this and made her on the one hand more nervous.

She had learned to recognise the twins from an early age, this had never upset her, although her cousins ​​looked identical, she knew precisely that Marten had a small mole under his right eye, while Leonhard was devoid of any mark on his face.

The two were nearly her age, if not a few years younger than her, but at any rate at a time that would have been more than suitable for a man to marry.

-My lady- her uncle gently took her niece's hand and left a light, emotionless kiss on top of it, on her fingers.

Isabelle began to stare at the man, his deep grey eyes, his straight blond hair, which as expected and natural with his age, had begun to turn pale grey.

Ernest Hannover was the younger brother of her deceased father and as such she remembered him with great affection.

He was the Duke of Hannover, a duchy in northern Germany, the place of origin of their own family.

Although they had lived in England for many generations now and their mixed blood was now more English than German, this caused her uncle himself to travel very often into the past.

She remembered that in the times of her childhood, his uncle used to stay abroad for many months but when he returned he used to bring something special to his nephews that they could be satisfied with.

Isabelle was mostly gifted with some porcelain dolls, she had many of them in the room she used to live in as a child, she took care of them as a child, she combed their soft hair in the company of her friends and sometimes dressed them. .

On the other hand, the males were brought something more serious and adult like books, adventure stories or things like that.

She remembered things like this being given to her cousin Juniper and her older half-brother Henry, so much so that the two lords had also learned a fair amount of German in their youth.

Once the gifts were distributed, she remembered some sweets were kept, chocolates that were sometimes distributed to a third person who very clearly imagined it was Thomas.

Certainly at the time it was not clear to her of the existence of another brother, of her father's illegitimate son and his existence had also remained hidden in time as it would not have been of honour the news that the king possessed a illegitimate child.

In any case, she did not see the reason for such a visit at that time, neither did she understand why that time the man had been accompanied by his two children.

In any case the etiquette did not lie, she had to seem kind and welcoming as her task was, so she kindly invited the three to sit around the small dining table, surrounded by precious and expensive armchairs of soft fabric.

-A pleasure that you have come to see me, my beloved uncle and you cousins ​​of course, but say then, what would it be the cause of such a joyful visit?- asked the girl nervously, ticking with her soft and long fingers on the wooden surface of the table.

-We need to talk, privately- admitted her uncle composedly adjusting his back to the soft back of the chair.

On either side of him sat Leonhard and Marten, his two last children still alive and on the faces of the twins did not seriously fold an expression of calm and affection towards their cousin.

She hadn't had a chance to meet the three since John's death two years before and that serious situation was making her anxious, especially when she was to know that the dialogue was to remain private.

What was she supposed to do? There were three of them, she would have been left alone, she was too simple a victim in case they had decided to attack her.

-Would you appreciate some tea?- asked the princess, calling her servant slowly and gracefully and asking her to send and prepare some tea to serve to her guests.

-How does Lady Beatrice Hayes feel, my adored aunt, she must still be...-.

-Our mother has been mourning the death of our brother for a long time now- Marten ended up admitting by slowly extending one of his legs, crossing it precisely and delicately on the other.

-It is not a surprise that she is not with us today- haughtily admitted Leonhard on the other side of the sofa where they were sitting.

Isabelle was sweating, she knew the twins would not be an easy opponent to deal with, not as long as her two arrogant cousins ​​continued to lay the blame on her.

-I am immensely sorry you had to suffer such a great mourning my lords...- commented the princess placing a grimace of false apprehension on her delicate face, she had to bluff while she had time, to distract herself from the main topic, this gave her security and the belief of being saved.

The deep grey eyes of her uncle were planted on her face, they followed every move she made, after losing his firstborn son it was natural that he would feel distrust of her.

-Let's move on to serious topics- the man prayed, placing both his cold hands together -I heard of the defeat of the Dustin battalion...-.

-A just and glorious victory in my opinion...- commented the lady, playing lightly with a lock of her long blond hair -the Irish should no longer be a problem at this point-.

-Do you mean? - asked one of her two cousins ​​with a surprised look, she did not understand why all this had to turn into an immense and profound battle with her own family.

-This battle cost us the alliance of the Smith family and House Taylor, both vassals of the Dustins, at this point we have no support in the Irish lands and no certainty that the Dustins aren't planning revenge...-.

-Revenge is a small word for this, brother- Marten resumed, completing and correcting his twin's words with arrogance and fussy look -all the Houses soon want revenge against us because of you, cousin, we risk becoming the laughing stock of the aristocracy-.

Isabelle was silent for a few moments, she did not feel capable of answering also because on her side she found it unnecessary that her relatives, without any title to her crown reproach her for her actions so harshly.

True, the Hannovers weren't exactly loved in that war situation and she understood that people of her same surname didn't want to be put in a bad light.

The nervous clicking of the fingers on the surface of the wooden furniture immediately ended, she understood that this topic was important but she also understood that it was a matter that she could have dealt with with some reasoned coaxing and excuse.

-Honestly I don't care much about the Dustins, I guess they are not capable of responding to the defence...- came out of the lady's lips, with a touch of bored non-importance -they are so exhausted that they can't lift a cannon at us-.

She tried to joke, her irony could not help her at that moment, especially when the difference in their opinions was growing more.

In those last years Isabelle had individually taken the reins not only of the kingdom but also of the total House Hannover, acting on her own terms, not needing to be confronted or authorised by anyone else.

Her mother had not been able to manage her autonomy as no counselor or member of her House as her had ever been able to do.

The problem of the case was that the princess' autonomy had soon led to a tyrannical command and with this to the beginning of a dangerous kind of absolutism.

-I would not define the Dustins as defenceless as you think- the uncle admitted at this point turning his eyes completely to his niece, who at that moment was trying for fear and cowardice to avoid eye contact in every way.

-We are always talking about one of the wealthiest and most armed houses on the nation...-.

They were disturbed a second time when an attendant prepared to bring a jug of fine and white porcelain full of warm green tea, sweetened with the taste of honey.

Isabelle liked the tee, she liked its flavor so aromatic but at the same time sweetish from the natural manufacture of honey.

Together with her service of pure white and precious porcelain, decorated with a thousand coloured flowers and obviously the jug of warm tee they were served soft almond sweets and some figs, a perfect combination, if it was up to her to decide.

The attendant slowly poured the drink into the small cups made available for the three lords and the lady and immediately the impression that Isabelle was observing that man with quite apparent admiration fell as if on the whole room.

Little was to say that the princess knew that simple courtier well enough, he was really good under the covers during the night visits that the lady herself had begged for.

No one who did not have a good eye could notice it but certainly from the fact of how Isabelle looked at that man, at his soft and curly black hair, his deep gaze, the eyes of the green colour of the leaves and the lawn.

A princess who was guaranteed the company of a simple attendant was not a princess who brought esteem and honour to her family.

-Anyway...- Isabelle went back to admitting once the man had finished his task -what could worry me about the other Houses? Lord Dustin died of old age, Lady Dustin was shot down together with the naval fleet in the ridiculous attack they had planned on the coasts...- admitted the young woman, she began with grace and lightness to bite off a piece of the little almond sweet.

-...honestly their eldest son, Preston also seems to me quite inexperienced and defenceless to claim what happened, passing on to the other families, Juniper is just a poor lord lost in the aristocracy, he does not have enough experience and Henry, I swear, if I had to seeing my brother he would not have long life under my dominion...- the princess turned her eyes to the other side of the room, until she looked out the window.

The morning sun was beating hard on her face so much so that it hit her eyes and her soft, thick, wavy golden hair.

A silence of common restlessness spread through the room, it lasted a few minutes, perhaps even longer, where the only sounds to be heard were the repeated and loud ticking of the golden hands of the pendulum clock, which made the chat all of a sudden a little more tense.

Her uncle's eyes were fixed on her, she was waiting for him to speak soon, she understood it from the sudden quivering of his lips.

-Tell me Isabelle...a secret, can you really sleep with any man you come across?- the man admitted with a trembling voice, almost as if his provocation sounded ten times more convincing in his head.

-Excuse me?-.

-Do you think I didn't see how you looked at that man before? So what is his name and how many lovers do you have?- Ernest Hannover repeated with a tone of insolence and arrogance that generally would not be usual to put on a royal.

-You know well yourself that a person who loves to play with people's feelings like this is not a person with honour-.

Isabelle slowly wiped her soft and delicate pink lips with the prized and white handkerchief placed next to her cup, she did not understand what this had to do with the current situation but it certainly was not pleasant.

-Are you sure you do not want a cup of tea, dear uncle, you haven't even tried to taste it...- the lady immediately tried to change the subject as that conversation was becoming ridiculously embarrassing.

-I wonder if even with John it had been the same thing...if even your relationship with my son was only based on your pleasures and desires...- the man admitted turning his gaze to the ceiling.

How dared he? And how did he especially know about that situation? Isabelle jumped for a moment in complete fear.

-...you know, being accused of incest and intercourse outside wedlock is not an easy thing to solve, especially when you have an entire nation to depend on you, your high position in the aristocracy would suffer a lot if the news got out of the walls...-.

-Oh, no you would not!- replied the princess who in a moment of anger placed her small and delicate hands, her palms banging hard against the surface of the precious and woody coffee table -...just think about it, uncle, you would risk too much too...your relationship with the Dustins ...-.

Ernest put on his jacket with precise determination, informed his children to get up and prepare for departure, the two young Leonhard and Marten did exactly what their father had ordered, they obeyed faithfully as they had been taught to be a duty.

The man started talking again as he lately put his fine well-made jacket over his shoulders as if he were correcting it from the wrinkles that had formed in letting it hang on the clothes hanger.

-Our social contacts are dead, thanks to you- the duke admitted raising his eyes once and for all to those of the niece.

Their gazes were united for a second but with two different emotions dispersed in them: on Isabelle's side she felt the fear, the fear of what she had done, of her actions which recklessly had ended up framing her, in Ernest's the confidence and pride of a man who in every way always found his truth.

-It was entertaining to spend time with you niece- admitted the man leaving a light kiss on the smooth, pale and sweaty forehead of the princess as he used to do on his return trips, when she was still a child -but as you well know the duties call and I have to answer-.

-Uncle...- a faint and frightened whisper hissed from the soft lips of the princess.

-You have destroyed us, Isabelle so I advise you to be careful about your next moves, if you don't want everyone to know what only we know...-.