Chapter 43: Departure for England
That evening Brooke in the company of her family was preparing to leave the Peel fortress on the shores of the Irish Gulf, in an attempt before complete sunset to reach the port of Douglas.
Several servants had noticed the girl's change into an almost completely unrecognisable boy, but out of order and respect to their lord they had still decided not to say anything about her or even spread a word.
Over time they had only limited themselves to putting the clothes of her brother inside the trunk.
Brooke had thought about it well and began to believe it was fortunate that she had made this decision, also to feel safer.
She thought that for her risky future, if she met the wrong people it might be a problem for her to turn out to be a woman.
It was also her luck that her breasts were not too big and therefore easy to hide under a tight bandage.
Brooke wasn't ashamed of her now masculine appearance, she knew she was making the right choice, even hearing the Stanley housekeepers talk behind her back.
Once Brooke left through the marble and precious stairs of the house, her parents were the first to notice the change of their daughter, who had now turned into a boy.
-Diane- it came out of the dark and almost struck fleshy lips of her mother -what happened to you my daughter, why did you cut your beautiful hair? Why are you now a young man? - she asked placing one of her delicate hands on the brown jacket worn by her daughter.
Brooke at those words decided to look elsewhere, she would never have wanted to ignore her mother, but all that was moreover necessary, for all that she had decided to do.
So she rejected the approaches of her mother and looking back at the ground she admitted -I am no longer Diane, from now on I will no longer be your daughter, but your son, your fourth son, thought personally you can still keep calling me by my feminine pronouns-.
At that statement her father was embittered, Diane was his only daughter, the only girl and now looking at her, she looked like a man.
However James Stanley remembered the pact concluded with his daughter, her service in exchange for freedom, and so he could use her decision for his advantage.
-How do you want me to present you at court then?- finally asked the man leaving a total upheaval in the people around him.
-I want you to introduce me to everyone as lord Brooklyn of the Isle of Man, I also want you not to reveal who I am to my brothers, but I would like you to introduce me to them as your illegitimate son-.
Brooke was convinced her three older brothers did not remember her, after all a long time had passed.
The man began to sweat, to experience cold shivers but he remembered that a Stanley always keeps his promises, so he accepted, in exchange for the service, what his now son was asking him.
At that same moment the pawing of the horses' hooves became stronger and more and more evident from the opposite and verdant hills.
The horses were more than one and their gallop soon stopped as the three bodies of her three older brothers could be seen from a hill.
Brooke noticed their bodies were all comfortably resting on the saddles of their steeds and it seemed as if the three other men had also noticed the unexpected presence of the young stranger.
She saw they stopped there, in the distance to talk to each other, while Brooke's heart both for anxiety and embarrassment, had risen to her throat.
Her three older brothers were all between the ages of twenty-five and thirty and their appearances were completely different.
From the colour of their skin to the colour and length of their hair, the shape of their eyes and the colour of it.
Each of them was completely different, each of them was born from a different mother.
The oldest was Walter, he was tall, strong, he was the oldest and appeared in his thirty years as a handsome man. The colour of his skin was pale and almost gaunt compared to the strong brown colour of his curly hair. He descended from an Italian lineage.
The second born was Marcus, black hair, much smoother and thinner than Walter, the shape of his eyes inherited by the maternal side made it clear that Marcus descended from an Asian dynasty, he too in his twenty-seven years looked like an handsome man.
The last of his older brothers was called Samuel, he was the youngest of the three having shortly turned twenty-five, he was a boy with Scandinavian features: light blond hair of a colour similar to white and two light blue coloured eyes almost the colour of ice.
Each of them was different, but little Brooke knew about their mothers, other than every of them had passed away.
Brooke panicked as all three of her older brothers astride her approached her.
Each of them looked critically at their young brother, and Marcus was the first to get off the horse.
He observed his brother for a long time with his almond eyes and after some time he started observing his father.
-Who is this person whom we do not yet know, father? -he asked quickly passing his gaze from his father and brother.
To that question it was the father who ventured the most unexpected of answers.
-This is Brooklyn, your younger half brother, who for some time I had conceived with one of my servants- admitted the father placing one of his hands from his walking stick to the shoulder of his daughter.
But hardly anyone listened to what his father had to say, as Walter, the oldest spoke up.
-How old are you, kid? - the one asked as his curly brown hair was blown away by the wind.
Brooke soon looked into her older brother's eyes.
-I'm eighteen- she lied trying to start by being accepted by her brothers.
She was not expecting an immediate answer but unexpectedly Walter placed an hand on the shoulder of his younger brother.
Brooke noticed his face, he seemed relaxed, he was smiling.
-I like the boy- commented Walter leaving a couple of light pats on her back -I would like you to spend more time with me and my brothers from now on- he added turning a quick glance at the other two brothers behind him and making them nod.
The girl immediately understood that Walter was the leader in that small and exclusive family group, and she understood, at least for those days she spent in company, not to seek further contact.
In fact, she knew that if she wanted her cold and cruel brothers by her side she would have to please Walter in every way.
However, time was passing as the sunlight disappeared beyond the blue sea, the conversation had to continue inside the carriage.
She didn't remember much of her brothers by now, but one of the things she remembered best about them was their passion for horse riding and beautiful girls.
On the other hand, she had grown up as the only female in a male family and for this reason too much effort was not required to remember their weaknesses.
One of the things she noticed was in fact that her brothers presented any sadness, no regret over Gilbert's untimely death.
On the contrary, they seemed relaxed, almost happy.
She soon felt one of her brothers' hands touch her face, her cheeks, her curly black hair, which now fell to just above her shoulders.
-The boy is cute in a way- Samuel commented recently analysing Brooke's face like a porcelain doll -that nose, the shape of the face, it's as if he possessed something feminine- but at that insinuation Walter stopped his brother placing one of his arms on his shoulder and leaning against him.
-Have you lost your wits, Samuel?- the one asked, looking at the submissive brother whose face had almost taken the light colour of his hair -don't you see he's clearly a boy? If he had really been a girl he would have had more breasts and certainly a more feminine look-.
At those words, the blush disappeared from Brooke's face, almost leaving her with a sigh of relief.
One of her brothers was about to find out and she couldn't have accepted such a thing.
-It seems that the boy has guts anyway- Marcus commented lately placing his hands on his hips -at least more guts and intelligence than Gilbert- at that affirmation in Brooke's body a greater anger grew, which increased again when Walter joined laughter in that cruel joke.
They hadn't changed that much, they had remained the same, they had remained cold and detached.
At those words Brooke still put her hand to the small blade that she had stolen from Gilbert's room.
She didn't bring it out anyway, she had to play their game, make friends with her brothers and for this purpose she just listened to what they had to say.
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