To my regular followers: Hi, no, I haven't lost my mind. This is technically a spitefic. Also, it's possibly for my Women in Fairytales class. Probably not, but can't hurt to try.
Title: La Barbe-Bleu
Rating: R
Word Count: 2928
Inspiration: Edward's general creepiness, Angela Carter's "The Bloody Chamber", and Charles Perrault's "La Barbe-Bleu/Bluebeard"
Warnings: Sexuality, gore, mature themes
Summary: Newlywed Bella Cullen arrives at the country home of her recently-widowed husband Edward and something about him doesn't sit well with her.
Disclaimer: Twilight and all affiliated characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer, there is mention of an OC and that belongs to me.
Other Notes: I have an epilogue of sorts I can post if I get enough interest in this. Otherwise, it's a stand-alone oneshot.
ETA: I expanded it quite a bit and fixed some minor syntax issues. Due to a review I got, I went back and revised and added to it.
The scenery was lovely. It was early in October and the trees were ablaze with a myriad of yellows and reds that all blurred together as we drove past. We seldom spoke, the chauffeur and I. I was too tired from my journey across country to be very talkative, not that I normally was. We had just left the glittering skyscrapers of New York City behind and were driving to my new husband's house in the quiet, isolated wild parts of the state where our closest neighbors were probably some miles away. He liked the isolation, he claimed. He wasn't one for large cities. Being from a small town myself, I could understand.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the chauffer, a large, burly man, glancing at me in the reflection of the glass windshield. "So…" he said, "You're the new Mrs. Edward Cullen. It's Isabella, isn't it?" I glanced at my hands, remembering the story of my predecessor from the newspapers. The last Mrs. Cullen had been killed in a tragic boating accident several months ago.
"You can just call me Bella…" it was an automatic correction, and luckily I managed not to sound too rude. To my surprise, the man laughed.
"You can call me Emmett," at least he was friendly. I smiled despite myself, sitting up straighter on the seat. "I have to say though, I wasn't expecting Mr. Cullen to remarry this soon," the burly man frowned a little, as if he were thinking about something unpleasant.
"Have you been with him long?" I asked. Perhaps he could tell me more about my husband's life before we'd met.
"Not really, I'd been the driver for the Hales before Ms. Rosalie and Mr. Cullen got married. Her father sent me along so she'd have a familiar face out here, and, well… after her death, I just stayed on," I glanced down at my hands. I probably shouldn't have asked. "She was a lovely woman, Rose was. She loved coming out and working on the car with me."
"So you were close then?" I knew I'd regret asking sooner or later.
"Yeah… I knew I never had a chance with her, I'm just a lowly driver after all, but it was strange how quick she was to marry Mr. Cullen. I don't even think she really knew him that well," Emmett took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at me. "I don't think you know him that well either."
"No, I don't really… he just showed up in Seattle when I was visiting some friends," the sentence trailed off when I felt a tendril of discomfort spike through my stomach. "My parents didn't like the idea of me marrying someone who was so much older than I was."
"I have to be honest, the fact that Mr. Cullen turned around and married you so shortly after Rose's death makes me nervous," Emmett turned onto a tree-lined dirt road.
"How did she die? All the papers said were that she was in some kind of accident," what a morbid topic so soon before I was supposed to meet my husband for the first time since our wedding.
"It was an awful thing, you could hardly recognize the body. I don't think you'd appreciate hearing this, Ms. Bella… Though, I get the impression that Mr. Cullen wasn't too terribly cut-up about it. He just seemed so… uncaring throughout the whole thing. It threw me for a loop, then there's Rose's behavior a couple days before her death. Acting all nervous and frightened, but she wouldn't tell me anything. I can't help but think she wanted to leave and never got the chance."
An involuntary shudder ran up my spine and for the first time since Edward and I met, I felt apprehensive.
Edward was all smiles and charm when I arrived at the house, an art deco dream you only see in the magazines. "Welcome home, Love," he said, pulling me into his arms. It was amazing how young he looked, with only subtle lines on his face and small streaks of grey in his auburn hair. I suppose his charm and experience were what drew me in to begin with. I'd never had a man take serious interest in me before. There was Jacob Black from home, but our relationship hadn't lasted more than a few weeks. We'd lived next door to each other since we were young so our feelings had never gone beyond friends or siblings. With Edward, it was like my world had finally come alive. I was so young, so innocent.
The house was truly magnificent, very large and luxurious with doors and rooms everywhere. I was surprised that Edward didn't show me around, but led me straight to the bedroom strewn with white lilies. Their cloying smell clung to the air and my head began to swim. Such a monochromatic room, not even the green steams of the flowers brought color to this place. It was cold, so cold that Edward's hands on my arms were like ice. "Don't worry," he whispered, slipping buttons out of their holes and pushing the pale yellow material down my body. "You'll get used to it."
He laid me among the lilies, slowly and methodically so that I was completely surrounded by the smell of the flowers and the feel of the white satin sheets. "Don't make a noise and don't move," he told me, fingertips ghosting down my arms and leaving a chill in their wake. "Just close your eyes." I could only lie there like a corpse as he parted my legs and had his way with me. I tried to cry out once when the pain of his thrusts reached a point where I could no longer stand it, but the intensity of his last thrust drove him over the edge.
He left the bed soon after, leaving me to curl up beneath the sheets like a frightened child. My mother had told me everything about this moment, how it was supposed to be special and wonderful, and full of love. Instead, I only felt filthy and afraid. It hurt, the burning and throbbing between my thighs had yet to subside as I tried and tried to come to terms with the finality of my situation. After what felt like hours, I dragged myself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom.
I paused to take in the Edwardian bathroom complete with claw-footed tub. I'd wanted one since I was a child. I let the beauty and opulence distract me as I played with the taps and the bath salts, perfuming the air with lilac and rose, so much different from the lilies whose scent wafted through the open bedroom door. The warm water made me feel more human and less like a corpse for the first time since I'd entered the house. There had been blood, yes, and I was quick to wash it away.
"I feel horrible for this family…" I set the newspaper down to take a bite of my breakfast.
"Oh?" Edward glanced up from where he was going over stock shares and business exchanges. We'd hardly spoken ten words to each other since our wedding night. I had always tried to be too tired and go straight to bed. So far, everything was jake.
"Do you remember hearing about the Italian diplomat's adopted daughter who went missing? It would have been about a year and a half ago," I showed him the headline, "She was just declared dead by the American authorities."
"Oh yes, Jane, wasn't it? My brother Carlisle and her father were good friends," Edward speared a piece of potato. "Nasty business, had people searching for her all over the country. Aro was near hysterics."
"Did you know her well?" I looked down at the stern-looking face. She had to have been all of fifteen when the photo was taken, standing with a tall, dark-haired man and two other children her age.
"Not really. Aro took her and her brother in only a couple of years before she disappeared. His wife can't have children, so they adopted. Jane was… a difficult child. Angry, petulant, all made worse by Aro's doting on her. She hated me," he chuckled as he reminisced, something distant in his face, "In fact, I don't think she really liked anyone. Not even her twin or adopted sister. It's sad really, Alec is very soothing to be around and you'd be hard-pressed to find a sweeter girl than Ileana."
"So she ran away?" it made sense in my mind.
"Apparently," silence fell between us as I let the information sink in. "Bella…" he looked up suddenly and I dropped my fork in surprise. Edward laughed, "I didn't mean to frighten you, but Bella, I have to go away for a little while."
"So soon?" I was surprised. Since it was our honeymoon, certainly his work could spare him for just one more day, just as he promised.
"I'm afraid it can't wait. We're having problems in our overseas branch, the workers are striking and I have to find a way to resolve it," Edward stood and walked around the table. "I'll be home as soon as I can," he promised, leaning over to kiss my forehead and pull a jingling set of keys from his pocket. "These will open every door in the house to you: The library, the billiards room, the study," he named off each key on the ring, saving the smallest, oldest one fore last, "This key opens my private room in the basement. Don't go in there, ever." His eyes were cold and hard and I swallowed.
"Why not?" what could be so horrible that he had to hide it away?
"It's forbidden, besides, it's cold and dark down there, you'd be so frightened if you tried to get in," he smiled again. His strange moodswing had thrown me for a loop. "I'll be back in a few weeks, don't get too bored," he teased, tapping the end of my nose and leaving the room.
I waited until he was gone and pulled the key ring out of the pocket of my dress. Time to get to work exploring. The first two rooms were empty, but the walls were beautifully painted and paneled in rich wood tones and warm golds and bronzes. On impulse, I spun around, feeling like a princess in the Austrian or German empires before the war. Each night must have been filled with lavish parties and balls. I hated dancing, but every little thing to make the fantasy complete was there.
Once Edward got home, I'd have to persuade him to throw a party. I'd invite all my friends from home, his family would be there, Mom and Dad too. We'd all wear our fanciest clothes and I'd get Jessica to help decorate these empty rooms until we were all swept off into some distant land.
The next room was the billiards room. The smell of tobacco smoke was faint; it'd probably not been used for a long time. I could see my dad in here, puffing on a cigar with his friend Billy and Edward's brother Carlisle. I wanted to liven the place up, warm the cold doors and halls. This place was too much like a mausoleum that had been too long shut off from the world.
I left Edward's office for last, feeling a blast of cold air as the door swung open. Maybe at last, I'd get to know my mysterious husband. I sat in the chair behind the massive mahogany desk, breathing in the smell of varnish, old leather, and, surprisingly, lilies. I sneezed, would I ever escape the scent? First thing when Edward got home: I'd see if I could persuade him to get rid of the damn things and replace them with some prettier flowers.
After riffling through all the desk drawers, I came upon a locked on. Edward hadn't left me the key, so it probably wasn't to be opened (neither was the mysterious door, but I had the key to that.) Overcome with curiosity, I picked up a letter opener and started to wriggle it between the top of the drawer and the desk, nearly breaking the instrument in two before the drawer popped open with a small click.
It was full of photographs and cameos of different women. Well then, my husband had a thing for beautiful women. I recognized Rosalie easily enough. She was absolutely stunning like a picture star as she smiled at the photographer. Digging deeper, I found a photo of a small girl with dark hair, sitting next to Edward in a car. Who was she? An old girlfriend? I looked at the back of the photograph. There was no name on it, but more searching revealed an autographed portrait. "To Edward, all my love, Alice Brandon."
Brandon? Was that the same as the famous fashion designer Mary Alice Brandon? Last I recalled hearing about her was that she'd packed up had headed for Paris and no one had heard from her since. I set the photo and portrait aside and pulled out a grainy image of a girl smiling and laughing with two children her age. Jane? Jane Volturi the unhappy girl who'd disappeared a year ago? There were more women: a Russian expat named Tanya fleeing from the Bolsheviks; Leah Clearwater, adventurer at large; an up and coming actress called Nessie Wolfe; and finally, I found my picture amongst the others. It was a favorite of mine: my mom, dad, and me outside Fenway Park before a baseball game. I had no idea Edward had taken it from my house. Did these other girls know about the photographs and paintings he had stashed away? Dread began to fill my stomach. Were these pictures connected to the secret room in the basement? Did I even dare find out?
No, better I put these pictures away and forget about them. I was probably jumping to conclusions. Suddenly, the house seemed much larger and more frightening knowing I was the only person in the house. Emmett had been given the day off, the maid went home at noon, and our cook wouldn't return until later in the evening. I rubbed my arms, feeling colder with each passing moment, anxiety gnawing at my insides. It's nothing, it's nothing. I could smell lilies again and I felt I couldn't breathe from the overpowering scent.
To distract myself from the fear and anxiety, I wandered back to the library, hoping to find something to find something to read. A warmth spread through me as I closed the door, finding my breath once again as my heart stopped its nervous pounding. Books were so soothing that way. My confidence and calm restored, I started searching the shelves for a familiar title, or something new to catch my interest, pulling anything that caught my eye off the shelf. For hours, I would be able to immerse myself in the worlds of Lord Peter Wimsey, Hercule Poirot, and Jane Eyre. My explorations of the house had taken most of the day so it was getting dark and I had put on all the lights in the room. I was mid-way through The Mysterious Affair at Styles when I felt my eyelids drooping and yawns were coming thick and fast. I closed my eyes to rest them a moment only to be shaken awake a little while later.
"Ma'am, Mr. Carlisle and his wife are here," Siobhan the cook told me. "I couldn't find you, so we were worried… I'll go start on dinner, if that's alright." Well horsefeathers! My first houseguests and I fell asleep reading!
"I'm sorry, Siobhan, I'll go greet them now and apologize," my cheeks flushed. I probably didn't look very presentable, but I doubted I had much time to change as I ran through the house to the sitting room. I hadn't met my brother-in-law yet. He'd been busy and couldn't make the wedding, Edward explained. I paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath and smoothing out the front of my dress before letting myself in. "I apologize, I was in the library," I said hurriedly, blush returning to my cheeks.
"No worries, it happens to all of us," Carlisle, a handsome man in his mid-fifties, assured me.
"I can't keep track of how many times I've walked in on him dozing off in his chair with a book," the woman at his side, I assumed she was his wife, laughed, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I'm Esme." We shook hands and immediately I felt more relaxed.
"Feel free to call me Bella," I wonder how I must have looked to them. Such a young woman married to their brother.
"I suppose Edward is out of town again?" Carlisle asked, "That's odd, I rang and told him we'd be coming up last week. Esme and I live in town just a few miles away."
"It was so sudden, he just told me this morning over breakfast," the three of us sat. "Something about workers overseas going on strike."
"Well… I guess that would explain it, but surely the strike could be resolved without his being there, he doesn't have to make that long trip," Carlisle's brows furrowed, "And further still, I wish he'd let me in on things once in a while. I may not be involved with the business, but I still own several shares in it. Oh well. Edward's not here so that means we'll be able to get better acquainted."
"He's become so secretive, especially after the death of his first wife Leah. I think he blamed himself for her death, but she was so strong-willed…" Esme sighed, "And later that noblewoman Tanya. She was kind, but her English wasn't very good at times."
"Was he involved with a fashion designer named Mary Alice by any chance?" I asked.
"For a time, she was having difficulty finding a place to set up shop and Edward gave her an old storefront from a building he owned. He was courting Tanya at the time and when Alice found out about it, she ended their relationship and went to Paris," Siobhan entered the room to announce that dinner was ready and the three of us moved into the dining room.
"Did you know Jane Volturi?" I wondered if they would get annoyed at my questioning.
"Poor, poor child," Esme shook her head, "Her disappearance has been so difficult on the family. Aro had to bring his sister and brother-in-law over from Italy to stay with Sulpicia. I don't think she's left the house for a long time."
"It's all but destroyed Aro's other children. I can't help but think it's connected to Mussolini," Carlisle told me, "I keep telling Aro to not go against him, it'll turn out badly and now look. He seems to have accepted the official ruling though…" He left something hanging, thinking for a moment before speaking again, "Ileana contacted me a few days ago. She doesn't think Jane just disappeared. I'm worried, she's a sweet girl, but prone to rash decisions."
We turned to much pleasanter topics after that and parted on good terms. Carlisle promised to bring up a book of folktales the next day. Earlier, I had asked the maid to change the sheets on the bed from satin to a plain cotton and remove the lilies and I fell into bed gratefully, kicking off my shoes and curling up under the covers.
The walls were screaming as I ran down the hall until I found myself in front of a heavy door. Open it. Edward commanded in my ear and my hand began to move of its own accord, grabbing the handle and tugging the door open. There was nothing but darkness beyond it, a yawning, gaping hole. Phantom hands took hold of my shoulders and shoved me, sending me tumbling into the black depths.
The nightmare dogged my every step the next morning, even as Carlisle handed over the book of German stories when we met for breakfast. A patient called him shortly after his arrival and he hurried away, leaving me to sit in the library once more and read through the stories. "König Blaubart" left me cold. There was a door in the story that the heroine wasn't supposed to look in. Like the door in the basement.
What was behind the door? I couldn't take it any longer and got up, taking off at a sprint for the door where I would find the answers. I descended into the basement, feeling colder and colder with each step. My shoes clicked against the stone floor, bouncing around the walls and several times, I had to stop to reassure myself that I wasn't being followed or watched.
The door was at the very end and the hall seemed to stretch on forever and grow in size as I walked. Cobwebs stuck to my clothes and hair the farther I travelled. My hands were shaking when I went to pull the keys out of my dress pockets. Now or never, I still had time to turn back, pretend everything was fine. The key slid into the lock, turning slowly as the bolt moved back into the wood with a heavy thud. The door swung open when I pulled on it. The groaning and creaking reverberated off the stones in the walls, ceiling, and floor.
I was greeted by the stink of dead creatures and, once again, lilies with an undertone of something unfamiliar that I'd only smelled once before. The room beyond was dark as pitch and I forced myself to take the first step inside, fumbling against the wall for a lamp or candle or lights. My hand found a chain and I latched on, tugging it to flood the room with light.
The floor and walls were spattered with blood while women were arranged in an array around the chamber. All of them were painstakingly embalmed and preserved, laying in upright coffins lined with white satin and surrounded by lilies. Each had a brass nameplate and as I moved around the room, I read them out. Leah Clearwater, had her throat torn out by wild animals; Vanessa Wolfe, crushed in a landslide; Mary Alice Brandon, broke her neck falling down the stairs; Tatiana Petrova, inhaled carbon monoxide; Jane Volturi, froze to death; Rosalie Hale, fell out of a boat and into the propeller… the last one was empty.
All wives, all dead. Rosalie hadn't been in an accident. Alice hadn't left for Paris. Jane hadn't run away without a trace. Edward, my husband had married them all and killed each in turn. What was more, I noticed droplets and patches of white standing out against the blood on the floor. It wasn't enough that they'd been his wives in life. I was sick, backing up with the intent to run for help.
Alone, I was alone in this massive sepulcher for Edward's wives and it would be my turn next. In my haste to escape, I bumped into the coffin containing the doomed Rosalie, sending the mangled corpse crashing on top of me as I screamed and thrashed to get loose. The corpse flopped away and I took off, rushing for the telephone. I had to call Carlisle and tell him what was going on. I tripped over my feet, groping wildly for the receiver only to find the line dead. Further inspection revealed that someone had cut the cord, rending the telephone useless.
Someone, no Edward, it had to have been, had planned this. The freezing cold seeped into my bones as I realized the truth. He was waiting until everyone was gone and we were alone. The story… the story in the book Carlisle had given me earlier! König Blaubart was the German version of Bluebeard! Stupid, naïve Bella for not connecting the dots before now, was the story meant to be a warning? If the telephone was dead, I'd have to run and find help elsewhere, in town, or at the next country house. The story was too crazy to be true; I'd need proof. The little key to the room, I must have dropped it in my hurry to get away. I had to go back, get it, go to the police… anything.
My heart pounded as I raced back to that bloody, bloody chamber in search of the key. No sooner was I over the threshold, when I stepped on something and my legs went sliding out from under me. Strong arms grabbed me and pulled me up. Edward? Edward was here? He set me back on my feet, though my knees shook and I had no idea how I managed to remain upright. God… God please… my time had run out.
"Welcome home, Love," he said, smiling as he raised a sword and
Acknowledgements/References
If you're interested in the original "Bluebeard" tale, I recommend visiting SurLaLune Fairy Tales for the full annotated text with links to other versions of the story. For the Angela Carter retelling, it's included in the anthology The Bloody Chamber which includes retellings of other fairy tales including "Snow White", "Little Red Riding Hood", "The Tiger's Bride", and "Beauty and the Beast".