The Hidden Manuscript

Chapter one... THE LAST NIGHT

JANURARY , 18TH

                1616

                I can remember clearly the night of my beloved brother’s death.   It was the night I lost my brother, and a manuscript that held so many dark secrets.   

                                I remember that night so clearly in my mind as if it was only yesterday, but it’s been well over 200 years since.  I can still smell the clear air, and the small candles that burned with a dark flame; that’s how good my senses are.  I remember the colors of my brother’s bed sheets as he lay on his death bed.  Our mother was sitting next to him, pressing a warm rag upon his head, and his dear wife would not sit still; for she was too busy pacing the room back and forth in a sheer panic.

                I got up hastily from the other side of the bed and grabbed Anne’s shoulders and turned her to face me, “You must not worry, for it will only grieve my dear brother more” I whispered to her and then led her to a stool next to mine.  She grabbed his hand tightly and pressed it to her lips.

                                “My sweet, I am sorry for being in such a worry.  I cannot bear the loss of you.”

Anne’s voice shook with dread, I clenched my teeth; wishing there was some spell to help my brother.

                William smiled and squeezed his wife’s hand, “It will be ok my sweet, just do not let our love wilt and we will be alright” his voice broke and he coughed up a lung.  I clenched my teeth harder not wanting to watch my brother like this.   

                                Mary shifted uncomfortably in her chair and cleared her throat, “Perhaps if we let William rest, then he might make it through the night, and we can get him a doctor in the morning.”

Our mothers  voice was tight, she was holding back tears.

I winced.

I hated that I knew all of this, that I knew my brother would not make it through the long night ahead. But when I thought this, I had no clue as to what was to come.

                                William turned his head toward me, “Sister…” he whispered, “You are my best friend, my sister, I love you and I want you to raise your head up high and protect our family honor.”

                His words were spoken with such a strong mind, the same mind that wrote all his plays, and books, and many other things.  I smiled at him and raised my eyes up to my mother Mary, “Where is father?” I asked.

                Mary smiled slightly “He is in London on business, I suppose he will be back on the ‘morrow” she whispered.  Mother knew too, William was not going to make it through the night.

William sensed the tension in the room, and turned his head to face our mother. “Mary, you raised me to be strong, and strong I shall be” he said to her in a hushed tone.  He lifted his head off his pillow and slowly planted a small kiss upon her face.

                It was then that I felt the small tear fall down my cheek.

                                William then turned to me, “Cordelia, if you will, go to my study and grab the play of ‘Romeo and Juliet’  I would like to read it aloud, one last night.”

I nodded and smiled, wiping away the tear that had fallen, not wanting my brother to see that I was weak with sorrow, I pushed back my stool and left the little room.