And it was just then on that cold, cloudy morning that Diane Stanley received the saddest and most unexpected news she could ever expect.
She lay ill again on her bed coughing, she had a severe sore throat and she could not in some strange way lift her body from the cot of her room in the monastery.
She had a bad premonition, an innate sadness inside her heart, without knowing why and what caused it.
Even today she would not participate in her daily activities and for weeks her strange and enduring malaise and melancholy had led the sisters of the monastery to worry about her poor health.
But on that melancholy and cold day the girl's uneasiness and bad thoughts were quickly clarified by the fact that, after that long period of solitude, a voice even if unexpected, had attracted her attention.
-Sister Diane- the voice of one of the younger nuns called her with a sad tone -your father has come to visit you, I will leave you some time alone...- the girl moved her mulatto face slightly but almost with innate effort until she pulled a faint glance out of the grates of the small and narrow window.
She heard the footsteps of the man's shoes, Diane heard the heavy door close behind them but not a single glance was turned to the parent.
-Diane, my daughter- the man's voice took a gentle turn as he began to speak -I have come this far to communicate to you my decision to end your stay here in the monastery, you will return today to the fortress of Peel, with me-.
At that strange and unexpected statement, all of a sudden the young woman's mysterious melancholy vanished, like a bad thought.
Now she no longer had time to think or to hesitate, to be sad, on the other hand her dream, what she hoped most had now come true.
Diane wanted to get back on her feet, take off the veil from her long black curls and finally feel the freedom fall on her as a great relief.
But she didn't quite understand what had induced her father to make such a decision, and so her happiness soon slipped away from her like a brief dream.
-Your brother Gilbert died this morning Diane- concluded the parent without any emotion, giving a final blow to the heart of the young daughter -a murderer planted a dagger in his chest-.
At that statement the girl's heart broke into a thousand pieces, her light blue eyes were wet and it didn't take too long for them to fill with tears running down her cheeks.
The young woman began to scream, mourn the pain of someone who had lost a brother prematurely.
Gilbert didn't deserve all this, he had raised her, he had protected her.
Gilbert was like her: laughed at and left behind by their older half brothers, he understood her.
And now she was there, free but with an unbridgeable weight on her heart. Sadness was not present either in the voice or in the expression of her father.
His father did not care so much about his children, it was so easy and pleasant generate them, putting them in the womb of different young women but they were for him more like objects, work tools that he could use without any effort.
And so with his mistresses, no emotional value had ever connected him to any of them, they were only young and unexperienced, beautiful.
Her father was not a man, her father was a monster.
The viscount did not leave the daughter any more time to mourn the death of her brother, he forced her to wear the noble clothes that belonged to her and without any pity or patience he let her be transported on the majestic carriage with which he had arrived there.
Diane knew that the man had no patience towards crying or more simple complaints so, in the path that connected the monastery to the fortress of Peel where the family resided, Diane did not even dare to open her mouth.
She looked at all the low, verdant hills surrounding her, she observed how green and joyful the spring nature was.
How fresh were the leaves that then covered the massive and robust trunks of the centuries-old trees.
She did not want to go home now, she saw the birds flying away, free in the sky and she thought for a long time, she wanted to be like them too and be able to escape from there in a few beats of wings.
-I will need your help Diane- said her father placing one of his hands on the knob of his precious hardwood walking stick.
Diane observed how the solid and hard golden knob of the precious staff was created to represent the majestic and powerful shape of the head of a deer: a male deer, a thousand-year symbol of the noble family of the Isle of Man.
-What your brother was unable to accomplish, you must be able to accomplish without delay-.
At those words Diane's heart froze and her face was immediately covered with a particular blush and anger.
How dared her father? How dare he even make such an insolent and risky proposition to her?
But the question that took the girl the most was what kind of things her father had asked Gilbert to do and was he guilty of her brother's death?
The young woman's gaze turned to her father who had been staring at her for some time.
-What would it be?- she asked with such bitterness -what would these "things" be?-.
The father hesitated shortly, almost as if uncertain in his harsh and guilty confession but then admitted approaching one of the girl's ears.
- You will only have to search some evidence for me, some documents, and only then your task will be fulfilled ...- the one finally admitted, removing his lips from his daughter's ear.
At that statement Diane was sure that it was her father who put her brother in danger and so she thought that as obstinate as Gilbert was, he had accepted the challenge without saying anything.
-You are my only daughter, you are the youngest, but you are more cunning and intelligent of all your brothers- the man admitted caressing the voluminous black curls of the young daughter -and that's why I ask for your help ...-.
Diane was not fooled by her father's false compliments, not like Gilbert had done and so she decided to respond.
-Are these perhaps the same things you said to my brother to send him to be slaughtered?- asked the embittered one with a great fighting spirit -I am seventeen years old father but I am shrewd and intelligent enough to understand that all of this makes no sense at all-.
The man with no words left in his mouth slowly shook his head, lowering his gaze.
-You are stubborn and strong Diane- the man admitted -and I know you want to be independent, to travel the world, maybe be able to fly away from all this like a little bird ...- said the man in one more desperate attempt to persuade the daughter -perhaps you would accept if I promised that once your mission is over you will be free from any noble and social task, free to do whatever you want ...-.
Again the young woman nodded negatively with her head, moving her adorable mulatto face and her long, curly black hair.
-If I wanted to have the freedom I would certainly do it, without needing anyone to give me permission- Diane scolded herself looking back out of the small glass window of the carriage -you let me be locked up there, in that monastery for so a long time ...- she said as tears started to full her light blue eyes.
-I couldn't even say goodbye to Gilbert, if I had been there all this would not have happened...if I had been there for him my brother might still be alive...- said the girl hastily wiping the tears from her eyes.
The carriage stopped, as did the galloping of the horses: she knew she had arrived, she knew everything around her, she remembered it.
Peel Castle was a beautiful mansion located exactly on the coast of the Irish sea and with a beautiful view of the blue sea, in a small and verdant plateau that bordered on the descent with beautiful sandy beaches.
There on the coast, she and her half brothers had spent their childhood.
-This evening at six o'clock we will leave- said the man -after the sun goes down a ship will sail from the port of Douglas and will take us to Lancaster in England where we will arrive at sunrise- his father finished saying, leaving so that some attendants could help him in getting out of the carriage -think about it Diane, think about my proposal ...- the man remembered letting the young woman go back inside the fortress.
Everyone would have waited for her to return to her home rest in her room, but instead she stopped in her deceased brother's room.
Everything was in order, clean as always, almost as in the daily hope that one day her brother might return.
Diane threw herself on the comfortable bed, she was tired, she could no longer do or accomplish anything.
She felt a great anger, she was angry with herself, with her father, with the world.
She was with her black and curly hair scattered on the bed of her deceased brother and she breathed in that large room that masculine smell that reminded her of him.
From the next room she could hear her parents arguing about what their daughter's future should be.
-She is only seventeen years old, she is still a young girl!- her mother screamed trying in a desperate act to let her husband change his mind.
-I'm sure Diane will make it- the man responded clearing the perplexities of his wife -she is my daughter after all, she is a Stanley-.
-Gilbert was your son too and he was a Stanley! Yet he didn't make it alive...do you want our daughter to face the same fate too?! - the woman replied.
The adults were so stupid, so naive that they did not perceived the close presence of a loved one.
She got out of bed, she had already observed enough of the white room and its marble floors.
So she moved in front of the mirror that was in her brother's room and she looked at her own image.
She was lovely, beautiful, possibly the most beautiful girl the world could ever see but that was not what she wanted.
Her figure was too delicate, she was too noble and also too feminine.
She had obeyed commands all her life and had always been the loving and perfect daughter that every parent could wish for.
But she was tired of this falsehood, of her figure.
She wanted to finally express herself for who she was and she felt like she was, she wanted to be strong and independent.
She immediately understood what she wanted to do, she took the razor blade with which her brother used to shave and placed it on her very long black curls.
She began to cut and pull away where she could and as she did so she cried, she thought of her brother, of his unjust death and thought that once she found the killer she would make him suffer as much as his brother before he died. .
She didn't want anyone else to do justice for her, not a judge, not the law, it was something that only she had to do and she knew she would do it.
The cut of her own hair came out quite well, although it was not possible for her to cut perfectly with such a blade, but she did so that her hair came to a little below her shoulders and tied it with a small ribbon of bright color red that was still there.
Everything was better, she had medium length hair and already looked more like a young man.
It was only the beginning of her liberation.
She knew first of all that she had to deny what she was and so it was that she violently tore the precious and beautiful female dress she was wearing and threw it on the bed and in doing so reached Gilbert's closet stealing men's clothes: a white shirt, a jacket whose colour resembled the faded brown, some black trousers and fine leather boots.
Luckily for her, her brother had kept the clothes he wore during his fifteen, linked to his first love interest.
For that reason his size fit her too, and now that she finally had short hair and male clothes she felt better.
Now she had only one thing left to do, change her name, she thought Diane was too feminine and graceful, she thought of a name to represent her new person.
She chose the name Brooke, a neutral name, good for both a boy and a girl and only then she look up to take one last look in the mirror.
She identified as a female but looked like a male, she felt immediately good.
Many said women could not be independent, nor have their own strength and opinion but Brooke was the example of the exact opposite.
If society did not accept that a woman could fight and earn revenge, then society could have accepted that a woman, dressed in men's clothes to free them from tyranny.