Disclaimer: I do not own any Twilight characters that pop up in this story. I've just borrow them for the sake of not having to invent my own :P Although I have taken the time to come up with the original characters written.
Thank you to those who have not given up on this story (or any of my others). The exams are over but there's is now a new little puppy to contend with and she demands a lot of attention which means writing has been forced to take a back seat. So, sorry for the wait!
I rang Edward Masen the following day. I couldn't delay it anymore since my mother cast a reproachful glance every hour that passed.
It was like any other phone call. That is any other phone call that occurred two very awkward people. His voice had been just as tight as it had been when I last saw him, and my fists had been clenched the whole time. I didn't understand why he had this effect on me, even without him being in the room, but there was something in the lilt of his voice that made it seem like it almost tickled the raised hairs on the back of my neck. He made me anxious, on edge, as if I were out of my depth.
We had concluded the conversation with his invitation for me to visit his home for my next piano lesson—a fact my mother was shocked to hear. It wasn't unheard of girls going to visit a man's house. However the main reason it wasn't unheard of was because once it had happened it was all the gossips had to talk about. Then again, Mother seemed very set upon me going, even if she had to come with me herself.
It was for that reason I was standing on the doorstep of a very fancy looking townhouse while my mother preened her hair and tapped on the large black door with the gold knocker. It was a lion's head with a fixed majestic stare. It racked my already tense nerves to a new level.
"It's an awfully grand house for a piano teacher," Mother murmured as she smoothed her red polka dot dress.
The door swung open, and before us stood a woman who seemed to have stepped out of a fairytale. She was a vision of full skirts, perfectly rolled hair, and dainty doe eyed features. A living replica of Snow White, if not for the caramel hair and curious golden eyes.
"Hello, you must be Eleanor and Annabelle Hartley. I'm Esme Cullen. It's lovely to meet you." She smiled warmly and she swung the door wide and beckoned us forward. Mother entered with a bright smile. I moved with a little less certainty.
The house was beautiful, designed just as ours was. It had polished wooden floors, fresh cream walls and four doors that sat in pairs on either side of the staircase leading upstairs. But for all the beauty it lacked something our home didn't. As my mother and Esme talked and walked, I followed behind with my eyes to the floor. There was not a single pitfall or scrape. No place where the polish was a little less shiny. The coving didn't have a speck of dust, and the house itself didn't smell of cooking and cigars, instead it was fresh, sweet, and completely without any scent of home.
For all the loveliness, there was something off. Not bad or unpleasant, just unusual.
"How long have you and your brother lived here?" I heard my mother ask as I zoned back into the conversation. From the smiles on both their faces they had already exchanged compliments, and pleasantries.
"We'll have been here two and a half years come January. We moved when I married Mr Cullen." As if on cue a man entered the lounge we were now situated in.
I felt my jaw drop and heard mother's gasp. He was unlike any adult man I had ever seen, and from mother's reaction she was thinking the same. His blonde hair shone but not from slicking oil such was the case with most men around here.
"This is my husband, Carlisle Cullen," Esme said proudly and I felt my mother's hand tap me on my arm, an order for me to close my mouth. She, herself, cleared her throat.
"Aren't you the doctor down on Kingsley?"
"Yes, I started when we moved. It's very fulfilling work."
"And you do it very well from what I hear. Martha Stanley said you have done wonders for her Asthma." I watched as my mother talked with her eyes fixed solely on the handsome doctor. I was finding it hard to pull my gaze away but at least I wasn't married. I was allowed to look, she had Father.
"Should I start my lesson? We don't want to take up all your time." I cut in, receiving a stern look from Mother, but a glance of entertainment from the doctor and his wife.
"Of course. I, myself, have work waiting for me in the office," Carlisle explained as he dipped his head. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs Hartley." He looked decidedly at my mother before turning to me and fixing his unusual gold eyes on mine. "Miss Hartley."
With that he was gone, as if gliding from the room with a grace and swiftness I had never seen a man possess.
"I'll show you to the piano room. I believe my brother is there waiting for you," Esme said as she led us across the hall way to the only room with the door shut.
She knocked once before entering and, as I had at the front door, I stalled. It was only because Mother was behind me that I was forced to enter.
I hated that Edward Masen had such a strange effect on me, but it was only heightened when I saw him get up from the piano and stand rigidly beside it.
I was going to have to sit there, with him looking over my shoulder, watching me, in a room with just us in it. The very thought made my heart fly and my nails bite into my skin.
"Miss Annabelle Hartley, Edward," Esme said in what seemed to almost be a caution.
My mother nudged me forward until I was halfway between the door and the piano or—as my mind was screaming it—the door and Edward's penetrative stare.
"How about we retire to the lounge, Eleanor, while Annabelle has her lesson. I'd love to hear more about your work with the children's nursery."
I turned with a slight look of panic in my eyes but it was met with Mother's frown before she smiled with Esme and they left the room.
Esme shut the door behind us.
I stared at the thick oak door while I felt the tension wash over me.
"Miss Hartley," Edward said, and I jumped as I turned to see him a mere metre away from me rather than the three he had been before. I hadn't even heard him move.
"If you would like to take a seat at the piano," he ordered in a clipped voice. He was not going to be one of those softly-softly tutors. Instead it seemed he would eat me alive.
I made my way slowly to the piano, hating the way my feet made an echo with every footstep. The near pressure-like hush of the room amplified my heartbeat until I was sure everyone in the house could hear it
I sat with a slight creak from the chair and shuffled forward with an awkward scrape on the perfectly polished floor.
"Have you ever played piano before, Miss Hartley?" Edward asked from the same place he had been standing. He hadn't taken a single step towards me and I wondered how he was going to teach me piano without being close enough to see the keys. Still, I certainly wasn't asking to have him any closer.
"I know the C scale, and the G chord but that's it. Sorry." For some reason I felt ashamed to admit my inadequacies to him. Perhaps it had something to do with the way he came across so flawless, except for his severe manner.
"Follow the keys from middle C to high C and name each note," he ordered brusquely. I huffed as I hit the first note. This was going to be a very long and boring hour I could just feel it.
I repeated Edward's exercise three times before he said a word. I wasn't sure why he didn't speak, but whatever it was made each repetition become filled with more tension than the last.
Eventually I glanced at him expectantly.
"Good. Now chords." We worked painstakingly through the first four chords I was required to learn. He kept his distance, and I tried to follow his orders even though I could sense he was becoming more and more frustrated.
Eventually the time came when my frustration overtook my nerves.
"Arg!" I growled as my fingers slammed down on the keys. "Instead of telling me what notes I'm supposed to be using. Why can't you come over here and show me," I protested as I turned to glare at Edward.
His own expression showed he wasn't pleased, but nonetheless he came with quickness that made my heart race, and he placed his long nimble fingers on the keys pressing once before stepping back.
I looked up from the piano with a tight smile. "Thank you," I said through my teeth as we stared at each other.
It was then I noticed something. His eyes, which had been a riveting black the last time we met were now the colour of toffee. I felt my jaw slacken as I stared, trying to decipher how such a thing could have occurred.
"Is there something you'd like to say, Miss Hartley?" he asked as his head tilted ever-so-slightly.
I cleared my throat and turned back to the piano immediately. "No. No, thank you. Is this right?" I gently played the chord.
I heard him breathe in deeply before sighing and releasing an almost wistful "perfect."