"Will you give all you can give

So that our banner may advance

Some will fall and some will live

Will you stand up and take your chance?

The blood of the martyrs

Will water the meadows of France!

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing a song of angry men?

It is the music of a people

Who will not be slaves again!

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drums

There is a life about to start

When tomorrow comes!"

Do You Hear The People Sing? - Les Miserables

I seriously think this song epitomises how I envision Alice and Jacques in the revolution. Especially "The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France" Chilling line!

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Chapter Fifteen

James felt as though he was having an out of body experience when he thought about Alice. She excited him in ways he never thought he could be excited. Never before had he wanted to talk and spend time with a woman but Alice had sparked a fire in him that he simply could not, nor did he want to, extinguish.

As not to bother her, he decided to leave it a few days before he went to her and asked to court her. She would accept, he was sure. His charismatic charm had to be good for that at least.

He could imagine it. He could imagine taking her on picnics and taking her to the opera (not that he would enjoy it but women seemed to) as some were sung in French. He might even learn a little French to impress her. He hadn’t had the talent for Latin or German in the schoolroom but if he put in the effort, French could possibly become a part of his vocabulary.

When he awoke on the Wednesday following their Sunday dinner, he knew it was the day. He rose from bed with a skip in his step. The smile could not be wiped from his face and he was sure it would widen when he heard the ‘yes’ escape Alice’s pretty, pink and plump lips. How he longed to kiss them. But he would be a gentleman. She was an innocent and he would strive to keep her that way.

When he arrived at breakfast his parents and his brother were already eating.

“You’re awfully chipper this morning,” his father remarked.

“Is there a certain young lady responsible for that?” his mother asked coyly.

James didn’t respond. He simply smiled and took his seat between Sebastian and Henry as he tucked into the glorious breakfast that was laid out before them. He knew that once he and Alice married eventually that Henry would have to move down a seat as his wife would sit beside him. He loved how that sounded in his mind – his wife. Lady Alice Alcott. Alice Alcott. It simply rolled off one’s tongue.

Towards the conclusion of the meal, Mr Carter came into the dining room with the day’s mail, no doubt full of ball invitations that he had no interest in attending, not now he’d found the lady he wanted to dance all his dances with.

Sebastian flipped through the letters. “One from mama here, addressed to you, my dear. Why is that?” Sebastian asked, amused, as he handed the letter to Emilia.

Emilia rolled his eyes. “Catherine enjoys my penmanship far better than yours, darling,” she giggled as she used her butter knife to break the wax seal on the letter.

“A few invitations here … oh, James you have one.” Sebastian handed the letter to James who peered at it curiously. There was no return address on the letter and he did not recognise the handwriting. It was slanted and nearly illegible. He broke the seal with his fingers and unfolded it carefully.

James,

Someone like me, a lowly street urchin, does not deserve such a prestigious family to boost my social standing with their money and connections.

I am unworthy.

Furthermore I write to tell you that whatever you felt for me is not reciprocated. I don’t wish to receive your affections or visits anymore. Someone like me, with my radical beliefs, could never allow myself to have any sort of fraternisation with an aristocrat such as yourself.

Your kind disgust me. It was why we fought against you. We would gladly die for our cause and I would die before I ever would court or marry someone like you.

You belong with your own kind. A woman with the correct pedigree.

I write so few words as I do not think this relationship was worth anymore than this.

Goodbye,

Jacqueline

James felt as though he was going to be sick as he read her seething words. Such hate was spilled onto the parchment. How could she feel this way about him? She’d trusted him! She’d told him of her past! She’d let him in! She’d allowed him to fall for her! Could she really be such a tease? Could she really hate him so?

He scrunched the paper in his palm and tossed it into the centre of the table, not caring what happened to it. He threw back his chair violently and it clattered onto its side on the floor.

“Good Lord, what ever is the matter?” Emilia exclaimed but James ignored her. He had one target and it was his father’s liquor cabinet. He wanted to forget her. He wanted to forget that he’d even met her.

He stormed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and came to his father’s study. The locked cabinet contained all sorts of things. Fine whiskey, weapons and his father’s bank book. He found the key hidden in one of the desk drawers. He pulled the door open and seized the first liquor bottle he could get his hands on. He didn’t care for a glass.

Before he could put his lips to it and taste the searing liquid, a voice stopped.

“Don’t you do it,” Henry warned him. Henry marched into their father’s study domineeringly and snatched the bottle from James. James had never seen his little brother so forceful. “You use this too liberally,” he snapped, holding up the bottle of the whiskey. “You depend on it to drown your sorrows. I won’t allow it.” Henry put the bottle back in the cabinet and locked the door, keeping the key in his hand. “I won’t tell you where this is hidden. You can learn to deal with your mind without liquor.”

James glared at Henry. “Says the boy who has never had a drop of liquor or even a woman in his life,” he said spitefully. He didn’t mean to be so cold to his brother but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how to deal with a broken heart – if that was what it even was – properly.

“Perhaps not,” Henry snapped. “But I happen to have half a brain in my head, unlike you. Look at this.” He shoved the letter in James’ face.

James stubbornly looked away. “I don’t want to.”

“Fine, I shall read the passages that interest me. And if you do not like it then I shall fetch mama and she shall have this little discussion with you.” It was a threat and when James didn’t respond, he smiled. “Good. Now, do you really think a woman who cannot even speak English properly would be able to write words like ‘fraternisation’ and ‘pedigree’? Hmm?”

James furrowed his eyebrows as he pondered the thought. Henry had a point. So many times in conversation Alice had gotten lost. If she could not speak and understand their language properly, how could she read and write it?

“I don’t know what went on between the two of you, but the woman who was making eyes at you on Sunday evening was not the woman who wrote this letter. Stop jumping to conclusions like the hot head you are and go to her. Show her this and ask for an explanation. I’ve not seen you happier, James, and I don’t want to see you stay that way. I won’t see you fall to the drink when there could be a perfectly logical explanation.” Henry offered the letter to James and he accepted it, re-reading the scathing words.

Henry was right. The letter completely contradicted everything Alice had ever told him. She had begged him not to judge her, assuring him that she could never hurt anyone. They’d nearly kissed when they’d spoken about her past. The blushing woman he’d fallen for was not the woman who wrote this letter.

James realised that she’d signed the letter ‘Jacqueline’. Why would she do that when he knew she was ‘Alice’?

“There is something amiss here,” James said angrily. “And I’m going to find out what it is.”

Henry smiled, satisfied. “Even if she doesn’t want you, do not resort to drinking, James. If she doesn’t see how good a man you are … you know, beneath the arrogance and conceit … then she is a fool.”

James did not give his brother enough credit. “I underestimated you, Henry. When all is said and done I will find you a woman.”

Henry looked utterly embarrassed. “Don’t worry about me. Go and get your Frenchwoman.”

James would. He hadn’t bothered to fetch his coat so all he wore was just his shirt, waist coat and cravat. He ran down the stairs just as quickly as he had powered up them. Both his parents stood in the foyer looking quite worried.

“Where are you going? What is happening?” Sebastian demanded to know.

“James,” Emilia cried.

But he ignored them. He practically pulled the door off its hinges and sprinted out of the house and towards the carriage. The horse wasn’t strapped to the carriage so he just seized the reins from the driver and climbed atop the bareback horse. He’d never ridden bareback before to it was a new experience. He honestly didn’t care if he fell off and broke a limb, so long as he got to the orphanage as quickly as he possibly could.

He cantered down the middle of the cobbled, London streets, making sure he dodged carriages and people. He felt a sense of urgency as the church came into view. People stared as he forced the large stallion to stop right outside the church so that he could tie him to the hitching post.

Leaving the horse, he walked with a stern expression on his face around the church to the orphanage at the rear. He flexed his muscles and stretched his neck as he prepared to confront Alice.

He knocked, or rather banged, on the door with his fist and mentally prepared to talk to her. He didn’t want to beg, but he would if he had to. He couldn’t lose her, not when he’d only just found her.

As soon as the door opened he started.

“Ali –” he began but it wasn’t Alice who stood before him. It was a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties. Her hair was a dirty blonde colour and her eyes were a dark grey. She had a narrow waist with quite prominent hips and a generous bust. She donned her figure with a navy, calico dress and a patched apron.

“Yes?” she prompted.

“Who are you?” he asked, looking behind her to see if Alice was there but he couldn’t see her.

“Mrs Brown,” she replied. “Eloise Brown. I’m the new cook.”

The cook he’d persuaded Alice to hire. He was glad she finally had some help. “I need to speak with Jacqueline,” he said urgently. “Now.”

“And who will I say is calling on her?” Eloise asked him, looking him up and down. He most likely looked quite dishevelled. His hair was completely unruly, not aided by the wind as he rode, and he was inadequately dressed.

“James,” he replied. “She’ll want to see me.”

“James … Alcott?” Eloise guessed.

James nodded.

“I’ve been told not to admit you,” Eloise said firmly. “The matron doesn’t want to see you.”

James’ heart plummeted. Had this woman, the cook, written the letter for her while she’d dictated it? No. He couldn’t think that. He needed to speak to her himself. They needed to talk.

“She doesn’t mean that,” James said firmly. “She wants to see me. Jacqueline!” he called out into the orphanage. “Excuse me, Mrs Brown,” he said, wanting to get past her but the woman wouldn’t budge. “Excuse me, Mrs Brown,” he repeated with gritted teeth.

“James.”

He heard her sweet, accented voice as she appeared from the dining room down the hall. Her loose, dark curls hung over her shoulders and she played with them nervously as she walked towards him. “Did you write me this?” he asked, holding up the letter.

Alice looked at the letter and he could see the fear in her eyes. “Yes.” It was a lie. She could not fool him.

“You’re lying,” he growled.

“I don’t want to see you anymore, James. Please go.” She attempted to sound firm but he could see through her. She was no actress. Her pale eyes hid nothing. She was fearful of something.

“I don’t believe you. You didn’t write this. I don’t know who did but it wasn’t you. These aren’t your words.” He threw the letter towards her and it floated to the ground at her feet. “The woman I know wouldn’t say this. I won’t give you up. I’d be a fool to.” With that he turned around and stormed away. He needed to think things through starting with how he was going to get through to Alice. She was scared of something and he was determined to learn what it was.

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I love Henry, I can't wait to write his story. He deserves happiness :D

This chapter is dedicated to my best friend and my unbiological sister Tamlyn who came over today and spent the day on the couch with me in her pyjamas. She's the most incredible person and is currently going through something that no-one her age should ever have to go through. So, Tammy, even though I won't let you read any of my stories and you won't see this, I hope you know I love you so much and that I hope one day my kids call you 'Aunty Tammy' :)

To all of my readers who have parents going through ridiculously messy and hateful divorces, I know exactly how you feel. They split up when I was 11 and I'm 19 now and it's still going on! I think that's why I write romance stories. I like fantasy :P

Anyways, vote and comment!!