Thank you, everybody who read and reviewed this story in the Age of Edward Contest! It was heartening to see people wanted it continued, in spite of my mistakes.
Not Without Thee
London, December 1592
Edward Masen slunk along the silent streets like a shadow, glancing around him furtively. He did not want to come face-to-face with a constable. He had already visited three houses, three houses vacant of their residents because they had left London in a tearing hurry. They were wealthy and titled families, and had estates in the countryside. And escaping to the country was the only sure way of fleeing from the Black Death that was currently sweeping the city, sparing neither the poor nor the rich.
Plague was not new to London. It had been ravaged by the fearsome malady multiple times in the sixteenth century alone, enfolding thousands of victims every time in its wide black cloak. And why would it not? The city streets were filthy with refuse, rats roamed around freely, bearing the disease-spreading fleas with them, and there was no sewage system to speak of. All the garbage was thrown into the river Thames, and since the people used boats all the time as a means of transport, they were in daily contact with all kinds of germs.
It was not that Edward was not afraid of death. He was, but there was something he wanted so badly—he was willing to take a certain amount of risk for that. And he had been as careful as possible, avoiding the houses with the dreaded sign of a red cross upon their door, which meant that they had buried their occupants. As tempting as it was to steal from such houses because it was almost sure that the gold and money was still lying within, he had no wish to commit suicide.
He came to another prosperous looking townhouse, dark and quiet, with the long, narrow windows shut fast. After making sure that the door was free of any mark resembling a cross, he pushed it, and it opened immediately, with a slight creaking sound. He was relieved to discover that the air inside wasn't very stale. The occupants must have left very recently. He remembered the stink in the other houses and shuddered, thanking God for small mercies. Quickly he stepped inside, shut the door and waited for a moment, listening for any sound that might change his plan.
When there was nothing, he withdrew a small candle in a glass box from one of the pockets of his greatcoat, and a tinderbox from the other. When he had lighted the candle, he took the lay of the land.
It was pretty much like any other house belonging to a wealthy family. He was standing in a small vestibule, with a door in front of him and another to the right, which probably led to the kitchen and scullery. He decided to take the one in front and found himself in a large hall. The candle light showed him plush davenports and rich tapestries, although it was too dim for any details to be visible. There was a door on the far left that probably opened into the library. At the back of the room he could see a staircase going up to the first floor. That would be where the bedrooms would be, and where he could hope to discover some trinkets left behind. He had already had a good haul from the other houses, so anything he might find here would augment his profits.
After taking a look in the hall for anything valuable and finding nothing, he carefully climbed the stairs. A couple of them creaked, and he froze momentarily, but silence still reigned. He exhaled in relief and went on. The staircase curved gently to the right, and there was a landing on the top. Edward raised his candle stub and counted four doors, all closed, in front of him and to the left. He sighed at how low he had fallen in life and began searching the rooms one by one.
First he looked around for a bigger candle, for his stub would not last long. Of course there was one by the bed, on the nightstand. After lighting it, he blew out his own and placed it back in the glass box. Then he checked the wardrobe and the chest of drawers in the room, and was pleased to find a few items of jewellery. It must belong to the mistress of the house, he thought. The next two rooms seemed to belong to gentlemen, for they yielded nothing but a few coins, but then he was lucky to discover a belt studded with pearls lying on a bed in one, and felt very pleased on the whole. It seemed that the occupants had left in somewhat of a hurry.
He almost felt like whistling as he entered the last room, his spirits high. After placing the candle on a chest he opened a cupboard and began checking the shelves. He grinned widely when he discovered a gold necklace and a number of rings. As he picked up the necklace, he was startled by a groan conveying great suffering.
"A-ah."
His first thought was that the occupant of the room had passed away recently and was haunting her last abode. Hastily he dropped the necklace back and mentally apologized to the resident spirit for disturbing her. As he backed out of the room, looking in all directions for anything unnatural, he heard another groan.
"Ed-ward."
He jumped a foot in the air at this unexpected address. Why would the spirit call his name? Did she have a message for him from the other world? He supposed he should answer her.
"Uh, yes, I am Edward. And I apologize—"
"Ed-ward," interrupted the voice, full of pain and despair. And this time, he noticed that the sound came from the direction of the four-poster bed, pushed against the far wall. Also, he felt as if he should recognize the voice; there was something so familiar about it. It reminded him of…but that was impossible. She wasn't even in this city.
The logical part of his mind ordered him to leave quickly, but something drew him to that bed. As he approached it, he could make out a small shape, huddled under the covers. God in heaven, could this be a living woman? Why was she alone in the house? Be that as it may, he could not leave her like this, unwell and helpless.
"My lady," he addressed her tentatively, unsure whether or not there would be a reply. "Are you ill? Do you need the apothecary?"
"Ed…ward…"
No, no it could not be, it could not be her. And yet…he turned, picked up the candle, and placed it in a holder on the nightstand by the bed. When he turned back and looked at the woman there, he felt the hair on his arms stand up. Impossible, impossible, his mind screamed—she was with her cousin, far away in Kent, safe and happy. Her uncle had assured him that she was waiting for him, planning their wedding. As soon as he could pay his debts…
But then, who was this woman who kept on calling his name? Of course, Edward was a common enough name. Still, there was something about her…He had to make sure. At the very least, he had to help her.
He sat on the bed and placed his hand on her forehead. It was burning; no surprise there. He took her pulse and found it a little faster than normal. However, he could not see any signs of the dreaded Black Death on her skin. As an apprentice to a doctor, he could be sure of that, at least. He looked around for the basin of water that was an essential part of a gentlewoman's room. Yes, there it was, in front of a mirror on the wall. There was a washcloth too. The water was cold but not too much, just the thing for bringing down a fever. He dipped the cloth in it, squeezed out the extra water and gently laid it on the woman's forehead.
"Wa-ter," she croaked.
This time he hunted for a jug and a glass. When he raised her head a little by supporting it from behind and touched the glass to her lips, she gulped thirstily.
"Easy, or you will make yourself sick," he murmured. "You poor dear, how long have you been without water?"
She looked at him then, and as their eyes met, all his doubts melted away. However different she looked, she was the same girl he had promised to marry ten years ago.
"Bella?" he almost choked on the word, and she gazed at him curiously. "Is it truly thou?"
She squinted, as if trying to figure out something. "Edward?" His name was a sigh on her lips.
He shifted so that she could see his face better. "Yes Bella, it is I, Edward. But—I don't understand—how canst thou be here?" And then the full gravity of her situation struck him, making his face go white. "Bella," he whispered urgently, "art thou a guest here?" Improbable as it was, it was the best he could hope for.
She muttered something, but it was impossible to figure out what the words were. It was obvious she lacked strength for any kind of conversation. If she had not had water since the family left, there was slight chance of any kind of nourishment. He must get her something to eat first.
There were a couple of candles standing on the heavy, ornately carved dresser. He lit one of them and made his way downstairs and to the kitchen. Here it was confirmed that the family had not been gone long, for there were covered dishes on the wooden table and even a few unwashed plates. Best of all, he could see some embers in the fireplace. He raked it up a bit and put a pot of stew on it until the contents were warm enough to be eaten. These he ladled into two large bowls, cut some bread and added a jug of ale to it, and took everything upstairs on a tray.
He helped Bella sit, supporting her with pillows. Then he fed her the deliciously thick stew very slowly, sopping it with small bites of bread and chased by sips of ale. He too was famished, so while she was busy chewing her food he took an opportunity to partake of the victuals himself. As soon as Bella had had enough, she lay back and closed her eyes. Edward helped her lie down properly and covered her with the heavy quilt, satisfied that he had done whatever was possible for the moment. Her forehead seemed to be cooler, so he decided he could relax for the moment.
The only problem was there was nowhere to relax, except the rush mats that covered the floor, and he knew very well just how itchy they were. There were a couple of stools, but he could hardly pass the night sitting upright upon them. He supposed he could go into the adjoining room, but what if she needed him during the night? Her own bed was quite wide though, and he struggled with himself for a moment before taking off his shoes and coat and getting inside the covers with her. Once there it was a foregone conclusion that he would want to be as close to Bella as possible. After all, he had been waiting to hold her in his arms for years. So he gave up the thought of propriety and hugged her loosely, taking care that she was comfortable. In less than a minute he was asleep.
-NWY-
Bella woke up in the morning feeling much better. Her head felt clearer and her body ached less. She even felt slightly hungry! However, all this was surpassed by the strangest sensation of being enveloped in a wonderful sort of warmth. It took her a few seconds to realize that a pair of strong and very male arms were around her. Even stranger, it did not bother her in the least. In fact, she felt comfortable and safe in them, something she had not felt since…She opened her eyes and peeked curiously, but was too close to the man's chest to see his face. She tried to raise herself on an elbow and found herself staring into familiar green eyes looking warily at her. The face they were set in was not so familiar though, but neither was it a stranger's. She raised a hand and stroked his cheek in wonder, feeling the slight roughness. His expression became relaxed then, and he smiled at her tenderly.
"Edward?"
"Yes, Bella."
She shook her head. "I am dead, am I not?"
His lips quirked up again. "Why dost thou think so, Bella?"
"Because I was in so much pain, and now I am not, and also because—'' she took a deep breath, "thou hast been dead these two years."
Edward's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I have been dead? Who said so?"
"Uncle Eric. He said that thou died of the typhus fever while working on a ship on its way to France. I demanded to see thy grave, but he told me that thou wert buried at sea. I cried and cried for thee, Edward, and wished that I was dead too. Now I am, and I am content."
Edward however, did not look happy. In fact, Bella imagined that he looked downright furious. She was puzzled. Did he not want her to be with him?
"Edward," she said tentatively, "What is the matter? Thou dost not seem to be pleased."
"Bella," he answered with a bitter laugh, "didst thou wonder—why we are still in this house if we are dead?"
To his surprise, she blushed. "I thought, perhaps I am still here because I do not deserve to go to heaven." He must have looked puzzled, for she continued. "After becoming a wife, I should have loved no other man but my husband. But Edward, I could not forget thee. I knew it was wrong, but—"
She stopped abruptly as she noticed Edward's complexion pale. He opened his mouth but could not find his voice immediately. When he finally spoke, it was as if someone was choking him. "Didst thou say thou became a wife?" He scrambled up from the bed as he realized he had spent the night with a married woman, even though they had done nothing but sleep. Where was her husband? He looked around frantically as if expecting to see him rise from behind the dresser or something. This could ruin her reputation!
Bella watched him with open curiosity. What was he doing? "I did," she answered patiently, "but my husband passed away almost two months ago, Edward. I am no more a wife."
Edward could have fallen on his knees and thanked the providence, but he had sense enough to realize that that would be unseemly. And then the second part of her statement struck him. She had said that she could not forget him. Did that mean she still loved him? Once again hope began to blossom within his heart. However, there were many other things he wished to know first.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, took her hand tenderly in his, and asked her to tell him everything, right from the time they had separated ten years ago.
Bella and Edward had been close friends as children. Charles Swan, Bella's father and Edward Masen Sr, Edward's father, were old friends who had adjoining estates in the county of Essex, some twenty one miles from London. Both of them were only children, so they played together daily, even though Edward was a couple of years older to Bella. When he lost his mother at the age of seven, Renee Swan, Bella's mother took him under her wing and made sure that he didn't lack a mother's love. However, she and Charles did not immediately realize that when Edward lost his mother, he lost his father too.
Edward Sr loved his wife deeply. The convention of the age demanded that he behaved in a formal, almost stiff manner towards her. He adhered to this norm in public, but when they were alone he allowed himself to relax and show his affection to her openly. Edward grew up surrounded by the warmth of their mutual love and respect. When his mother passed away, he felt as if he had been abandoned by his father. Renee's care made up for this in some measure, but it wasn't enough. And then, as if one blow wasn't enough, life dealt them another, one even more severe. Renee and Charlie had gone to London to meet friends and enjoy city life when the Plague of 1582 caught them unawares. Bella, who had been left with Edward, didn't even get to say goodbye to them.
Things changed very quickly after that. Edward wanted to be a physician, so although his father repeatedly asked him to stay there and learn how to be a gentleman farmer, he decided to go to London and be an apprentice to the renowned doctor, Carlisle Cullen. In that age boys who wanted to become a professional began their apprenticeship at the age of fourteen. Girls were not sent to school as it was considered pointless. Instead they learnt how to manage a household, and skills such as cooking and sewing, depending upon the rank of their father. For girls who belonged to wealthy and titled families it was more important to learn how to manage servants, speak and behave like a lady and entertain guests.
The Swans were not titled, but they were sufficiently rich. Bella was taught the necessary household skills; even though her parents expected that social skills such as dancing and making polite conversation would be more useful to her than darning and making the perfect roast. Fortunately, her father also believed in imparting some sort of education to girls, so by the time she was twelve—when she lost her parents so unexpectedly—she could read and write fairly well, and was well-informed about the world in general. She had a good imagination too, which prompted Renee to declare fondly that in another time Bella would have become a writer. As it was, she spun fairy tales with happy endings and poured them in any willing ear.
Bella's uncle, Eric Swan, arrived from Cornwall after the death of her parents. He was Charlie's younger brother and had not been careful of his part of the property their parents had left to them. As a result he lived with his wife's family who were fairly prosperous. Although Charlie had always been cordial to him, Eric harboured a secret jealousy in his breast against his brother for doing so well. His death brought him a windfall in the shape of land, house and gold. However, he made it very clear that his wife liked living in Cornwall and would not be shifting to Essex. And he would be making long sojourns there, managing the estate only in his free time. That raised the problem of where Bella would live, for she could not be left alone at Essex, even with a housekeeper in residence. Edward was leaving for his apprenticeship, and even if he did not, what claim did he have to ask Eric to leave Bella with the Masens? Finally it was decided that Bella would be sent to Cornwall, to live with her aunt and two cousins.
Both Bella and Edward were crushed by this decision. Of course they had known even earlier that they would not be seeing each-other frequently once Edward went off to London. But at least he would be coming home once every few months, and definitely on Christmas. Now that Bella was being sent off to far-off Cornwall, their meetings seemed as impossible as a trip to the moon.
Even though Edward was only fourteen, he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Bella, once he qualified as a doctor. So he asked Bella to wait for him. As soon as he was able to provide for her and for their future children, he would come for her. Bella agreed, and they shook hands very solemnly.
Next he conveyed this news to his father and Bella's uncle Eric. Edward Sr gave his blessing, even though he was sceptical of his long-term plans. Eric laughed once, but when Edward remained grave, he shrugged and said it did not matter to him one way or the other. In fact, he was secretly relieved that Bella would be taken off his hands as soon as she reached the age of marriage. Though the royal and titled families sometimes got their progeny married young, for the sake of political alliances and such, the average Englishmen and women waited until they were in their twenties and able to earn enough. Eric also thought he wouldn't have to spend much on Bella's dowry if she was to marry her childhood friend.
And so the two separated with heavy hearts, their only hope being of a shared future, however distant. Edward, who was already a head taller to Bella, placed a gentle goodbye kiss on her forehead and bid her take care of herself. Bella clung to his neck, tears flowing from her eyes and making Edward feel he would join in any moment, and sobbed a heart-breaking goodbye.
Thankfully Bella's aunt Lauren, whom she had never met before, turned out to be a kind woman. Jane and Alec, her cousins, made her feel welcome too. Apart from the sadness of being far away from Edward, her years with her family passed away comfortably, even happily.
Edward was fortunate to chosen as an apprentice by Carlisle. He recognized in Edward the same passion to heal and help people as he himself had, the same burning desire to learn all about illnesses and their remedies. Edward learnt to recognize herbs and mix them in the correct proportion, to draw blood when required to purify a patient, and most importantly, to protect himself while examining and treating a patient with a contagious malady. Carlisle was his teacher, but he was never heavy-handed with him. Indeed, by the time Edward completed his apprenticeship, Carlisle had become more of a father to him than his own father had been after his mother passed away.
Edward Sr. had at least taken care of his estate before Edward had been home, hoping that his son would one day take over the management from him. After he left, Edward Sr. began to lose interest in running the estate efficiently. Eric saw this and took full advantage of it, drawing him to drink and gambling. Either Eric was exceptionally good at gambling, or Edward Sr. was exceptionally bad, but the fact is, he almost always lost at cards. However, he felt so lonely that these games would not be quit—they only grew upon him, giving some colour to his dull, meaningless life. Gradually he began to lose substantial amounts of money to Eric.
Whenever Edward came home, which wasn't too often, he would find his father engaged in one of these games with Eric. In the beginning he did not pay much attention, thinking that his father needed something to do in his spare time and Bella's uncle was just being neighbourly. He had no idea how much money was involved of course, and then, it wasn't his place to ask. By the time he understood how serious the situation was, it was already too late. His father was heavily in debt, and even then he did nothing to rectify the situation. When Edward tried to draw his attention to their plight, he got a smack on his head and a lecture that it was his money to waste, and in any case Edward wasn't interested in managing his affairs. Heavy of heart, Edward left his father after bidding him a sad farewell.
It turned out to be their last meeting. Next month he received the news that Edward Sr. had passed away in his sleep. The doctor put down the cause of death as a sudden heart attack, aided by his love for the drink and general carelessness towards his health.
Edward went back to bury him. After the service was over, he got another shock—this one from Eric Swan. He clearly stated that unless Edward paid his father's debt, he would not be allowed to marry Bella. Edward pleaded with him as best as he could, giving him his reasons. He promised him that the debt would be repaid in full—he would not let his father's memory be dishonoured in any way. But he would need time. He still had two years of his apprenticeship left, and even when he would begin to earn independently it would take him a few years to save that much. Eric pretended to be generous and told him he could pay the sum in parts, but remained stubborn in the condition to their marriage. Of course, he suggested, Edward could just write over the estate to him in lieu of the money. But this Edward was not ready to do. He had always planned to get married and settle in his childhood home, once he had completed his education. Living in London had no charm for him, and he was sure Bella would prefer the country as well. Dejected, he left the care of the house and other things to Shelley Cope, the housekeeper, and her son Tyler.
As the two friends exchanged their stories, Bella became horrified by Edward's misfortunes and her uncle's actions. Tears pooled in her eyes as Edward spoke of his father's death. However distant Edward Sr. had become after his wife's passing away, she still remembered him as a kind-hearted, avuncular figure. Also, she had hoped to call him father one day.
"But Bella, I do not understand why thy uncle was in such a haste to get you married," mused Edward, tenderly running his fingers in her hair. Bella sighed in content. She felt that she could face whatever life threw at her, if only Edward remained with her. But would he, once he knew that—
"I truly have no idea, Edward, except perhaps he wanted better connections in the society. The Newtons have wealth as well as a good reputation in business. When Michael proposed to me, Uncle Eric reminded me how his wife had cared for me for years and his children had become my friends. He said that I would be an ungrateful wench if I did not acquiesce for the marriage. I reminded him that I was promised to thee. For a fortnight he kept his peace, then one day he let me know that you had died of typhus."
Edward fisted his hands with anger. The treacherous swine! He had robbed him of his love and planned to rob him of his inheritance too. "Thy uncle is a vile man, Bella. He lied to you so that you marry this Michael—Bella, did he treat you well? Was he a good husband?"
Bella blinked at the sudden change of topic but answered anyway. "He was a kind man, Edward. He provided for me well. He never raised his hand to me, and his voice but seldom. In that my life was blessed."
Edward thought of something else. "How long have thou been married, Bella?"
"A year and seven days today, I think. Is it the day of Saint Nicholas yet?"
Edward smiled. Christmas was dear to Bella's heart even as a child. "There are two days still for the holy day, my sweet girl. Why dost thou ask?"
"I was married a sennight before that, Edward. Even after my uncle told me of your death, I refused to marry anyone for months and months. But he and my aunt finally wore me down, saying a girl from a good family could not live alone all her life." She frowned then and looked at him sadly. "I have a bone to pick up with thee, Edward. Every time my uncle came home, I gave him letters for thee; but thou never answered them."
Edward looked puzzled. "I never answered thy letters, Bella? Forsooth, I penned so many to you that they could have bridged the Thames by now! I handed them to thy uncle with words as sweet as I could make them, and with tears implored him to bring them to thee. I begged him again and again to persuade thee to write a page, a word—anything." Then his countenance darkened. "He never gave thee mine, did he?"
Bella shook her head, feeling faint. She could not understand why her uncle would destroy her life in this fashion. What had she done that had made him hate her? She put her hand to her head, lay back and closed her eyes.
Edward was instantly filled with remorse. Here she was recovering from illness, and he had spent the morn chattering like a gabby goatherd. He placed his palm on her forehead and found it a tad warm. "Bella," he said softly, "I must leave thee—"
He was taken aback when her eyes flew open and she sat upright all of a sudden. And he could not believe it when she threw her arms around him and clung to him like a limpet. Even through all the layers she was wearing, he could feel the heat and softness of her body, and he reacted instantly. The love of his life was in his arms after a decade. Only the thought of her weakened state succeeded in stopping him from placing his lips on hers and kissing her breathless. "Bella," he murmured in her hair, "what is the matter?"
She said something, but her words were muffled by his shirt. With some difficulty he loosened her hold on himself, so he could understand her. "Please don't go Edward; don't leave me again," she repeated.
Her plea broke his heart. "Never, my Bella, my love. Why wouldst thou think so?"
"But thou said—"
Edward shook his head as he understood. "I must leave thee to fetch some victuals for both of us, my sweet. What was left after last night must be spoilt by now. And I will also get some herbs from Carlisle to break thy fever, for thy forehead feels warm again. Thou canst not make a long journey while being unwell."
"A long journey?" Bella's eyes brightened with hope, even though she remained unsure of Edward's intended destination.
He smiled warmly and placed another kiss on her head. "Dost thou think so little of me that I would leave you alone in this disease-infested city? I do not have much, Bella, but I do have a house—that house where we spent much of our childhood and where Mistress Cope still lives with her son Tyler. I have now completed my training, and I can begin healing the ill. Thou art welcome to stay with us as long as thou would wish to."
Did the brightness of her eyes dim a little? Did she not wish to live in his house? "If thou believe it is improper—"
She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "I will come with thee, Edward, where ever thou will go."
Edward was relieved. He got her a drink of water, promised that he would return soon, and proceeded to Carlisle's house as quickly he could on foot. His mentor was surprised to see him, for Edward had already said his goodbye the night before, but pleased nonetheless. Of course Edward did not tell him the whole story, just that he had come across an old acquaintance who was unwell with fever. However, Carlisle knew his pupil very well, and also some of his history, and understood that this must be the same girl he was in love with. Without commenting upon it, for he could see how agitated and impatient Edward was, he handed over to him some supplies for making a concoction that helped alleviate fever, prepared a small bottle of the same to be used right then, and reminded him to give the patient the equivalent of a sponge bath if the fever persisted. He then wished him the very best in life and success in his chosen career, and let him go.
Edward stopped at a tavern to collect some ale and bread, and then hastened to Bella's house. It occurred to him that he had not asked Bella if she had any other family left—her late husband's parents perhaps, or siblings. They should be informed before he whisked her away to his estate in Essex. And what was she doing in London alone, after her husband passed away? It was most unusual.
The answer, when it came, after Bella had been fed and medicated, was even more unusual, almost unbelievable. It turned out that Bella did have a family on her husband's side. There was Michael Newton Senior, his wife Jessica and a younger son, James. They had an estate in Kent, and resided in their manor house there most of the year. Michael, Bella's former husband, who was eight years her senior, had a good head for business and substantial assets of his own, all of which he had left to Bella.
"James had never cared for me, taunting me sometimes as a woman who had married for money. However, not a month had passed after Michael's death when he began to plague me to marry him. His mother, who has always been extremely fond of him, supported him. She tried to explain to me that a woman knew nothing of managing money and property, and I should marry James so he could look after it. I knew what a rogue James is, so I refused every time."
"How did thy husband die, Bella?" Edward asked, stroking her hair and making her sigh. "Was he taken ill?"
She shook her head slightly. "No, he fell off his horse while on a hunt and broke his neck. He was killed instantly, so his friends said. He was given a grand funeral. It was the talk of the county for many days."
"And then thou came to London? Why?"
Bella explained that it was her mother-in-law's idea. "She said that I looked too pale and wasn't eating well, pining after Mike. And that London would be a nice change, with plays at the Globe, and rides in the parks. But then the Black Death began to spread after a few days, and the theatre shut down. We were readying ourselves to leave, but I got this fever. Mother Newton told me that I was going to die soon, but the rest of the family did not have to, so they left straightaway."
Edward's eyes narrowed with anger. "They left thee here to die because thou had fever? Could they not call for a physician?"
"I dost believe they were scared out of their wits, Edward. Thou knowest the physicians forbid the other members of the household from leaving when one has the Plague. Truly, I do not blame them for going away."
"But—" Edward spluttered in frustration and disbelief, "how could they—to leave a family member who needed help—they are nothing but a bunch of lily-livered cowards!" He thundered in rage.
Bella winced at his loudness. "Edward, prithee do not shout. I canst not take it right now."
He was immediately contrite. "Pray forgive me, my sweet. I forgot thou are unwell yet. I will make arrangements for our journey home. We will need a roomy carriage so that thou will be comfortable. I will be back very soon."
"Canst thou help me with my attire first?" she asked with some hesitation.
Edward, who had a very good idea of how he could help with her clothes, blushed at his thoughts. Luckily for him, Bella did not pay attention to his reddening cheeks, being busy planning for their journey.
"I need a sturdier gown than this one, and my travelling cloak also-it must be cold outside. Canst thou fetch them for me from my closet? The rest of my clothes are already in my trunk." He nodded, glad of the distraction, and stepped in the small space and glanced around. Yes, two garments made of some thick cloth were hanging there. He picked them up and brought them to the bed where Bella was sitting, propped up by the pillows. She gave him a smile, but he could see her lack of energy. The sooner they got out of the city, the better it would be for her.
"Dost thou need any help putting these on?" he asked, and this time it was Bella who coloured prettily.
"I do: these gowns are heavy." She mentally debated whether or not to wear a corset, but it would require too much of an effort, and she could hardly ask Edward to help her with that. She would have to take off the light gown she was wearing to slip on a corset—it was too intimate. Even though she felt close to him emotionally, she was nowhere ready to be half-naked in front of him. She would skip the corset then; it was not as if she was going to a ball.
She raised her arms so that he could help her stand. Her legs felt wobbly, and her head throbbed still. With some difficulty he put the gown over her head and pulled it down, and she smoothed it as best as she could, the heat of his body a pretty distraction behind her. The cloak could wait, he decided, until he had got the carriage there. Just as he was leaving, Bella thought of something else.
"Edward, some of my jewellery is lying in a box there," she said softly, pointing to the closet. "Please put it in my trunk—somebody might steal it after we leave." Then she frowned as another question came to her mind. "How didst thou find me here, Edward? Didst thou know I lived in London, in this house?"
Edward, who was pretending to search for the box, dithered for a moment. He really did not want to tell her he had been no better than a common thief the last night, in the house for the exact reason she had just given. "Bella, I will explain later, all right? We must leave soon or the evening will be upon us before we have crossed the county of London." Without waiting for her answer, he left, almost running down the steps.
Bella stared at the doorway, very much puzzled. It wasn't as much Edward's answer—that she could understand: of course they would be late if he started explaining now—as his expression. He had looked almost apprehensive for a moment. What could he be afraid of?
Shrugging her shoulders, Bella focused on the miracles that had happened in the last twelve hours. She had been found after being left for dead by her in-laws, and by Edward, who she had believed to be dead for two years. He had taken care of her, invited her to stay with him, and as good as professed his love for her. If she had the energy for it, she would have danced with happiness. Instead, she fell on her knees and said a heartfelt prayer to the almighty, thanking him profusely and asking that she would never be separated from Edward again.
He was back pretty soon. With all the rich people gone from the city and the theatre closed, there was scant demand for carriages to go for an outing, and the owner of the inn where he had been staying was glad to put his horses to use. The carriage was a four-wheeled coach, large and equipped with well-stuffed seats. He paid the man generously, asking him to make sure that the driver would not be rough with the horses, keeping his pace gentle so that Bella would not be jostled, and that he would stop at night at an inn with a good reputation. Bella's safety was paramount to him.
Bella had imagined herself to be much better after she had had breakfast and the herbal drink Carlisle had sent, but when she tried to go downstairs after having been helped into her travelling cloak by Edward, she had to lean on him. The fever, combined with near starvation for two days before Edward found her, had weakened her body considerably. She recalled Angela, her waiting-woman, trying to feed her some porridge before the family left, but she had no appetite then. Angela had not wanted to leave her, but the Newtons forced her to, saying she belonged to them and must do as they ordered her to. She had taken care to leave the jug of water in Bella's room, though by the next day it had become difficult for Bella to even muster the strength to get up and pour it.
Once they were inside the coach, Edward helped her lie down on the wide seat and covered her with a quilt he had picked up from her bedroom. He made sure their luggage was settled, and then they were off. Bella slept almost all the way to the inn where they were to stay for the night, waking up only once to have a drink of water. Edward had already decided that telling the innkeeper that Bella was his wife would be simpler, so that's what he did. As far as he was concerned, she was his wife.
They were given a small but comfortable room, and Edward made sure Bella sat up and had some supper, and some of the herbal concoction Carlisle had given him in boiled water. It seemed her fever peaked at night—not an uncommon occurrence really. However, the haste with which her temperature escalated had him worried. At first he thought about asking the innkeeper if there was someone—a woman—who could give Bella a cold wash. But what if he thought she had some dreaded disease, like the Plague, or even Typhoid? They would be thrown out of the inn in the blink of an eye. No, he had to care for her himself.
Gently he took off her gown and chemise. Her two outer garments he had taken off as soon as she had settled in the room, to make her more comfortable. He was thankful she was not wearing too many underclothes—he would never have figured out how to unlace and remove them, never having been that close to any girl. For a moment he was dumbfounded by her beauty. Her skin was so delicate, almost translucent, with breasts soft yet firm and tipped with pink rosebuds. And her legs…He shook himself out of the spellbound state and berated his wanton thoughts. She needed his care, not his concupiscence. There would be time enough for that once she was well and they were married. He sighed. Would she marry him when she came to know of his thieving ways?
He dipped a soft flannel cloth in the bowl of water placed in the room for washing purposes and laved her burning skin with it after wringing out the extra water, in long and slow strokes. Again and again he did it, from her forehead to her toes, especially under her armpits and around the groin, which brought down the temperature faster. When he was satisfied that she was cool enough, he dressed her in her chemise, covered her properly with the quilt and allowed himself to sleep.
In the morning Bella woke up with strange half-memories. She recalled feeling very hot, so hot that she wanted to take her clothes off and plunge herself into a cold bath. She didn't have the energy, however. But it had happened, somehow; someone had disrobed her and helped her skin become cool, for she had felt comfortable and fallen into a deep sleep. Or was it all a dream? Was she still in her house in London, with the Newtons gone?
She unwrapped the quilt and sat up gingerly, trying to imagine where she could be. The room was unfamiliar, but then she glanced around and spied a head of unruly reddish-brown hair peeking from beneath another quilt beside her, and her lips lifted in a smile. It had not been a dream then. Edward had found her, and they were on their way to his house in Essex. But—did that mean he was the one who had unclothed her? Her cheeks turned fire-red at the thought. He had seen her naked—the way only her husband was supposed to see her. In fact, she doubted even Michael had seen her like that. He seemed to have been satisfied with lifting up her nightgown to her waist and fumbling around in near-darkness until a part of him was inside her, and then huffing and puffing until he shook like he had the ague and then collapsing upon her. She would feel wet and sticky between her legs, and he would give her a peck on the lips and move to the other side of the bed, where he would quickly begin to snore. She had no complaints against him, for she had nothing to compare the experience with, but somehow she was sure that it would be different with Edward. The very thought of him touching her bare skin was enough to send delicious tingles up and down her body.
She ran her fingers through his soft hair, and he began to stir. His eyes opened, long lashes fluttering a few times until he focussed upon her and smiled sleepily. Such beautiful, deep green eyes he had—they always had reminded her of the emeralds in a necklace her mother had possessed. Right then they were shining like those gems too, and she answered his smile with one of her own. His hand crept out of the quilt and played with a lock of hair that had escaped from her braid, and she suddenly averted her eyes as she imagined his long fingers touching her in other, more intimate places.
Edward noticed her action but incorrectly assumed that she was embarrassed because of his having 'seen' her last night. Quickly he sat up and explained why it had been necessary, and why could he not call anybody else. That brought a new worry to Bella's mind.
"Edward, art thou certain I do not have a contagious disease? Why do I have fever every night?"
"My sweet girl," he answered, taking her hands in his and squeezing them gently. "A fever can be caused due to many reasons, but rest assured, thou dost not have an infection. Perhaps it was because thou were not eating well, and did not take care against the chilly, damp air of the city?"
It was possible, Bella conceded. Michael's death had not devastated her, but she did feel lost, uncertain of what her life would be like. Still, she did not wish to put Edward in any danger.
"But Edward, what if it is some malady that might affect thee and make thee sick? Thou should not take me with thee—I can take another coach to the Newton's manor in Wessex. Or I could—"
Her words were cut off by Edward's finger on her lips, shushing her. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Bella, dost thou not know that my life is not worth living without thee? It matters not what caused thy fever. Had the Black Death marked thee as his, I would still have stayed with thee. Now hush: I will ring for breakfast, and then we can leave."
They washed, dressed and had a hearty breakfast, for it would take many hours yet for the coach to reach Edward's home. On the way they spoke more of their years apart, and also reminisced of their childhood.
"Thou were prone to getting into mischief, Edward," Bella smiled fondly. "Catching frogs from the pond and scaring thy mother by bringing them into the house, stealing fairy cakes from under the cook's nose, and then riding thy father's favourite horse without his permission—it's a wonder thou did not get punished more."
"And thou always saved me, standing in front of me and distracting my parents with thy sweet smile and innocent eyes, giving them thy word that I would not trouble them again." Edward smiled as he said this, but his heart was heavy. Bella had forgiven his mischiefs when they were children, but would she forgive him now?
"I knew thy heart was good, and that is why I took thy part. Thou were ever ready to help the needy and the weak, and then thou trained to become a doctor. I know thy purpose is not to earn money but heal the sick—thou art a good man, Edward. I am thankful to God that He led thee to me that night. But how did thee find me in that great city?"
Edward bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that he could not avoid answering her any longer. And the idea of lying to her did not even cross his mind. They were connected on a level that she would have known his lie instantly, even had he tried.
"Bella," he began, attributing the butterflies in his stomach to the rocking motion of the coach on the uneven road. "I have done something very wrong. To pay back my father's dues, I have stolen a few times. I thought—I thought that the sooner I pay back thy uncle, the sooner we could get married. I cannot begin to tell you how ashamed of myself I am for that. When I entered thy house, it was with an intention to steal whatever trinkets the occupants might have left behind in their haste to flee the city." He looked up to see Bella staring at him with wide eyes and concluded without much hope, "I beg you to forgive me one last time. I will never do anything again that might displease thee."
"Oh Edward," said Bella sadly, "it is not a matter of displeasing me, but doing what is right. Thou knowest full well stealing is a crime, even though thou didst it for me. Now I feel I am as guilty as thou art. If my uncle had not lied to thee—"
Edward, who had been sitting across her, slipped from his seat so that he was on his knees in front of her. Holding her hands he looked at her, imploring her to understand. "Do not blame thyself, my sweet. Even if thy uncle lied to me, I was the one who committed the crime. Canst thou forgive me this once? Truly Bella, I canst not live without thee anymore." He hid his face in her lap, for he did not want her to see him cry.
He heard a heavy exhale and then felt her fingers run gently through his hair. "Edward, pray look up." Of course he did, and she wiped his tears off. "I am sad thou resorted to thieving, not angry. And I canst not live without thee either. We will do only right from now on, all right? When God will see thy good deeds, He will forgive thee. Besides, I have a secret too that I have not shared with thee."
"And what might that be, my Bella?" Edward asked curiously. "I know thou canst not have done any wrong."
Bella sighed. "I do not even know if there is anything to share, yet I must tell thee this: Angela, my waiting-woman, reckons that I might be with child. She tried to inform mother Newton of this, but she did not believe it. She attributed my paleness and lack of appetite to grief over losing my husband."
Edward blinked and swallowed as he tried to digest this extraordinary piece of news. Also, he wondered what it meant for them. Would Bella prefer to return to the Newton Manor if it turned out to be true? They certainly had more means to care for her, and if there was an heir—they would certainly try to lure her away from him and his relative poverty.
Gulping down his fears, he asked her straight, hoping to get a straight answer. "Bella, if this turned to be true, wilt thou leave me? The Newtons will want their heir, and its mother, close to them. And they have so much more to give thee—"
He was silenced by her astonished glare. "Edward! How canst thou even think that I will leave thee? Thou knowest how much I love thee—there, I have said the words, like a shameless woman—"
Edward recovered from his own astonishment and beamed at her. "Thou art not shameless, but honest. I am sorry for doubting thee, my love." He sat beside her and embraced her warmly, and then their lips met softly for the first time in their life. The kiss conveyed love and longing, but also it brought to them a great sense of relief, for finally being close to each-other, and being sure of the other person's feelings. When they separated, both of them were wearing identical, grateful smiles.
"Art thou sure thou wouldst not mind raising another man's child, if it happens so, Edward?"
He shook his head. "I swear Bella, I will love the babe as much as any child of ours. And now I must ask thee—wilt thou marry me and make me the happiest of men? I canst not wait any more to begin a life with thee."
Bella smiled wider, even though her eyes brimmed with tears. "Yes, yes, Edward! I want to be thine forever."
"Forever," he promised, and leaned in for another kiss.
End Note: I plan to add a couple of chapters here, but I want to know if I should drop the 'thee' and 'thou' language will still be old-fashioned, but it will be easier to write and read, to my belief. What do you think?