SECRETS OF THE COURT

Chapter 8

December 24th, 1519 - Cadherra

It was the day before Christmas. All had been prepared in the castle and its interior was completely changed. It had seen its grandest transformation yet, for Edward Cullen had spared no expense.

The Hall of Singers had been decorated lusciously with mistletoe that hung from various places in the castle. Luscious branches of spruce, pine, and evergreen were woven together with thick red and gold ribbons and placed about the room to further bring in the Yule spirit. In the central court of the castle, there was a grand pine tree placed and decorated with red ribbons that brightened it up. It loomed over everyone as they crossed the stone structure and they could not help but be taken aback by the vast plant, standing proud and tall.

In the corner of the Hall of Singers stood a large blue spruce, filling the room with its rich, fresh scent. It was decorated as well with golden ribbons and crystal snowflakes that Edward bought from a merchant from Coldwick.

Three long tables stood in an open rectangle, in the typical medieval style. The head table was by the short end of the room, by the Saengen. It was further decorated with a red cloth, covering the entire piece. Each table held silver candleholders, each holder capable of carrying five wax candles.

The head table would house the most honored guests, including Edward, Isabella, Renée, Jacob, Carlisle and some wealthy noblemen of Hayes. By the long tables would sit the poorer noblemen and some richer commoners of Hayes. More than 120 guests had responded to the invitations. Many were very interested in seeing the new lord and Count of Cadherra. Rumors had been flying around about him in the area. But no one had seen him yet. Others came to enjoy the food as their supply was stretched out due to the early winter. But there were some amongst the invited who only came to judge Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan. They hoped that the rumors about Edward's hideousness were true and that Isabella Swan now found herself in an even more desperate and miserable situation.

Edward could not ignore that the whole ordeal made him uncomfortable. He did not wish to be under the stares of so many criticizing eyes. But he knew what his duty as count was, and he had to get to know the inhabitants of his new county better. They were the ones who provided for him, in a sense. They were the ones he was forced to keep good relations with, lest he wanted problems for the future.

He would walk along the busy halls during the days of preparing the castle, taking in the new fresh scents of the castle; mistletoe, spruce, evergreen, pine, exciting spices, and scented candles. He could not stop thinking of the night when he had talked with Isabella. He had barely seen her since, and he thought it best that way. She had begun invading his thought more frequently, to the point where he had to consciously force himself to focus. Whatever task he put his mind to, did not distract him as it had before. The only solace he found from her was hunting, something he had started doing more frequently as the days moved along.

The relationship between Isabella and Edward was no secret to the inhabitants of the castle. And as they heard of their private encounter, all kinds of rumors started flying around. Had the girl given in to the beast? Had he forced himself on her? No one knew exactly what had occurred in the Hall of the Singers, but many were curious.

While Edward found that Isabella took over his waking thoughts, he found that his talks with Saxton and Alan Moore completely invaded his dreams. There was no escape from their ominous prediction. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his future destroyed for not having listened to Saxton, or from not having taken into account what Alan had said. He was now sure that there was someone extremely powerful in Wessport interested in him and with a keen interest in Angloa. Maybe too much interest.


Edward tossed and stirred in the late morning in a state between consciousness and deep sleep. He lay under the sheets and furs of his four-poster bed. It was grand with four vertical columns, one in each corner that supported a tester, a rectangular panel. This panel had rails with curtains in royal blue, pulled around the bed to stop the draft and light coming in. Expertly carved into the panel were an intricate flora and fauna designs. He would stare at it during his waking hours of the night: when the moon shone in through the window and bathed his room in its silver beams. While sleep would evade him.

In his dreamlike state, he let his thoughts wander back to forgotten days. When he lived with Sofia he had been happy, without a care in the world. How young and foolish he had been then. Yet, he missed the old monastery they had lived in during his teenage years. Edward used to hate getting up with the sun, but now he missed it. He missed the simplicity of life, the gentle teachings, and philosophy that his masters had shown him.

There was a knock on his door. Edward barely noticed as he dreamed on, letting the comfort of his youth embrace him and forget his current troubles. Another knock sounded; louder this time. It was not enough to wake him fully, but it did make him stir. The door opened slowly at first, and then all the way as the intruders saw no one in the room.

"My lord?" came the prying voice of Mrs. Hammond. Edward's eyes opened wide as he gained full lucidity. He sat up swiftly and was grateful for the blinds that shielded him from insight.

Alas, his face was bare.

He searched around in the darkness and found the piece of leather that shielded him further from prying eyes.

"Maybe he is out riding?" came another voice. It was a young woman talking, maybe another maid.

"Nonsense, he is probably wandering again. I sometimes catch him in the oddest of places. The poor soul will not confess but sometimes he seems more lost than that Columbus fellow," the old woman sighed. Her high pitched voice managed to sound motherly to him and it brought a smile to his lips. He actually liked upsetting and irritating Mrs. Hammond. The little woman seemed like a small dog with a high dose of confidence. He was about to reveal that he was in fact in the room when the other maid spoke again.

"Thank you for always coming with me to clean his apartments, Mrs. Hammond. God knows I would not dare to go myself," the young maid said and it made Edward frown. Did they think him that void of honor that he would just take a maid as he wished? He knew that it was his right as lord of the castle to take any maid there or in the village. But that did not mean that he would actually do it. The only woman that kindled the lusting fire within him was Isabella. He did not have eyes for anyone else.

"Don't esteem yourself that highly, Johanna. He would go after anyone else before you child!" exclaimed Mrs. Hammond.

"I do not know how Lady Isabella can even bear to talk to him. I would faint even having to say a word or two to him. But then again, she would probably do anything to stay wealthy. Even marrying the devil himself," sighed the maid as they walked around his room. Edward felt a knot in his stomach at what the maid had said. Yes, how could someone like Isabella even able to be in the same room as him? The knot got tighter as he heard her insult his fiancée. His jaw tensed at the gravity of the insult.

"He is like a monster," she said even quieter. She reminded him of something that he was already well aware of but that he seemed to have forgotten. How could he ever have hoped that Isabella would have taken an interest in him? How could he have been that naïve?

"Shush! Such foolish words could very well be your last child!" Mrs. Hammond retorted angrily.

He was lost now. Just sitting on his bed, staring at the darkness. Edward clawed at his mask. Why did he have to endure this? He had repeated it to himself countless times. He should never have returned to Angloa. Sofia was right all along. Suddenly, anger emerged from within him. If he could not be accepted then at least let him be feared. Edward removed the curtains and stepped out from his safe haven, out from the darkness.

He emerged, barely dressed, with only modest brown pants and a thin white cotton shirt, with sleeves too long, thus covering his hands. One could hear a pin drop as Mrs. Hammond and Johanna turned around to see his threatening form.

They had never seen him so undressed. The general thought was that underneath his bulky attire, Edward was too muscular, too robust. He was someone that might seem clumsy given his size. But instead, they were surprised at the lean but muscular figure in front of them. Both women could not ignore the statue-like body of the man. The sun shining in through the window outlined his figure through his thin linen clothes. It made the young maid's mouth open. Feelings and thoughts she had never experienced before rushed through her innocent mind and she became rather flushed. But when both she and Mrs. Hammond noted the fury in his stance, she quickly composed herself.

"I would like a word with Miss Johanna," he said, the words sliding off his tongue like venom. Mrs. Hammond's expression turned from slightly irritated to worried. She went to stand between the girl and the intimidating man. He did not scare her, to an extent.

"The girl comes with me, my lord," she managed to say as she caught sight of his eyes. There was a composed rage in them that she did not like.

"The girl stays, Mrs. Hammond or I will personally throw both of you out into the snow," he said again, calmer now. Edward had full control over his anger, but not his other emotions. Mrs. Hammond turned around after a moment's silence. She knew better than to speak against him. But she would not let this pass. If she disliked him before, she detested him now. She cast a glance toward the maid and gave her an apologetic frown as she walked past the girl, whose eyes started spilling with tears.

When the door closed behind Mrs. Hammond, the girl turned to look at the intimidating beast of a man in front of her. She suspected the worst and grabbed at her clothes, just like Isabella would whenever she was nervous. The action made Edward take a step back. If it were Isabella, he would have let the comment pass, he would have stayed hidden behind the curtains, in the darkness. But this was not Isabella. This was a maid. She was more than a head shorter than he, dressed in the typical dark blue gown, as the rest of the maids in the castle, with an apron in the front. Her strawberry blonde hair in a tight bun. He started walking toward her slowly, like a predator toying with its food before devouring it.

"You have uttered a great insult," he began. The words were almost so silent that Johanna had to focus to hear what he said. She tried to calm her upbeat heart that threatened to rip out of her chest.

"I am truly sorry, my lord! I swear it will not happen again."

"I did not say you could speak," Edward sneered, silencing the girl as she quivered under his gaze. He paced around her in a circle, slowly. "So I am the devil, am I?" he asked.

"No, my lord! I never mea-" she started, desperately. But one look from him turned her into a silent and shivering mess. He stopped to stand in front of her, mere inches from her. It was evident that she was fighting hard not to run from where she stood. The girl looked at the carpet covered floor and trembled at his presence.

"Although I took offense of the insult toward me, I will not allow under any circumstance that my fiancée's name gets dragged down in the mud any further. Implying that she could marry the devil, is implying that she is a witch." The maid looked up in shock. She thought that Cullen had only felt insulted himself, but she never imagined that he would come to Lady Swan's rescue as well.

"Do you know what they do to those who falsely accuse someone of being a witch?" Johanna kept silent but felt bile rising at the back of her throat. "The way Lady Swan is treated in this castle has come to its end. You are to be the example of what happens if anyone speaks ill of her or me again," he whispered in her ear. His closeness sent feelings of horror down the girl's spine. She was so emotionally torn by her feelings that she could only stare blankly ahead of her as tears streamed down her cheeks. She had no idea what her fate would be now, but the days ahead did not bode well.

"What are you going to do with me?" came her timid voice as she diverted her gaze from him. Horrific scenes played in her mind where he tortured her, assaulted her or even killed her. She closed her hands into fists and felt how her nails dug deep into her palms, drawing blood.

Edward stood there for a moment. He had no care what happened to her, but he would not hurt her. He knew that he could no longer live off his reputation. He had to take action, show that if you insulted him or those close to him, there would be consequences.

"Leave this place," he looked at her, disgusted, "Never return to Adelton Hall." The girl's eyes widened in shock. She never thought she would be sent away.

"No, my lord, please! Do not send me away!" She fell down on her knees and gripped at the hem of his shirt, begging him with all the might she could muster up. "Hit me, take me as yours, anything! But do not cast me out! I have nothing outside these walls, I beg of you!" she pleaded through tears and hiccups. Her face was distorted by fear and pain, and Edward looked down at that face, conflicted by his emotions, but strong in his resolve. To her, he turned cruel then. For she thought she saw his true nature.

"Mrs. Hammond!" he shouted, knowing fully well that the older woman stood on the other side of the door, listening in on them. In under a second, she was in the room and by the girl's side, helping her to stand up. "Escort this young lady to her chamber, have her pack her things and leave tomorrow first thing in the morning," he said, as blankly as he could. Mrs. Hammond stared at him, shocked by such cruel words.

"But my lord, she has nowhe-"

"Have someone escort her tomorrow morning to the village, to wherever she wants to go, just get her out of here," he muttered. The girl was broken by the new development in her life. Due to some ill-guarded words, she lost it all. She had nothing more to lose. As Mrs. Hammond helped her gather herself and stand up, she turned to meet Edward, with sorrow and hurt in her eyes.

"You truly are a monster, Edward Cullen! For you are as selfish and as unfeeling as one!"

"Hush now," said Mrs. Hammond. "This isn't over. I will have a word with him as he calms down," she whispered as they walked out. The girl sobbed loudly as they made their way through the corridor.


The day passed by slowly. Since they festivities were planned for the following evening there would be no grand dinner that night. There had been no sighting of Edward as he kept to his rooms for a change. He did not wish to stumble upon the maid, Johanna, or anyone trying to speak on her part.

But Isabella roamed the castle, taking comfort in the familiar sights of the decorations. Yet, they were grander than before, making the castle turn into a beautiful winter palace. It was truly the stuff of fiction. She had never seen its equal, not even in Wessport.

She walked along a particular hallway. Isabella was on her way to the one room she had yet to see since returning, the most impressive of them all: the throne room. The castle had once been the seat of power for one of the three kings of Angloa, even up until Philip Fell. And before that, it had housed some visiting English monarchs during the early Middle Ages. It was common for them to come to Cadherra during the harsh English winters, when Angloa had been a warmer country, and they would hold court there.

Her royal blue gown floated gracefully around her feet as she took careful steps, lost in thought. Sobs sounded through the corridors and she rose her head to see Mrs. Hammond and a young, blonde maid walk together. Isabella recognized the young woman as Johanna, the maid tasked with tidying up Edward's chambers. It seemed as if Mrs. Hammond was supporting the young woman, who looked about ready to fall down from sorrow. When both women noticed Isabella, the maid tried to hide her cries behind her hands while Mrs. Hammond inclined her head in an apologetic manner. But Isabella would not let them pass her by without an explanation. Her curiosity was kindled and she could not help but take pity in the crying girl before her.

"What has happened? Has someone died?" she asked, worried suddenly that one of the servants might have fallen from a staircase while putting up the Christmas decorations. The maid's sobs got more violent as she leaned more on Mrs. Hammond.

"No, my lady. Do not worry yourself, it is nothing of importance," assured the older woman. But Isabella was not convinced. Instead, she walked over to the young maid and removed her hands from her face to reveal a red face, distorted by pain and sorrow. Isabella gave her a sad smile and the maid tried in vain to dry her tears.

"Now, why don't you tell me what's the matter?" she asked, her reassuring tone served to calm Johanna who took several deep breaths. Isabella handed her a handkerchief.

"I do not want to trouble my lady with my insignificant problems," Johanna suddenly said, her voice breaking at the end. She accepted the piece of fabric and dried her tears and blew her nose.

"No problem is insignificant," said Isabella, thinking back on her own, urging the maid to reveal what ailed her. But she would not speak. It was Mrs. Hammond that finally revealed the story, hoping that the young lady would dare to have a word with that beast of a man.

"She is to be kicked out, my lady. By his lordship," said she, her mouth forming into a thin line and the maid crying even harder. Isabella was horrified by what she heard.

"What? That cannot be true, he would not do that!" she exclaimed, in disbelief and surprise. But this time, Johanna spoke up, looking into the soft, chocolate depths that were Isabella's eyes.

"Aye my lady, he did. But he did it because I spoke ill of you and of him." She broke down once more and held the handkerchief to her face to hide her tears and embarrassment. Isabella was still trying to make sense of it all. But after a moment's silence, she placed her hands on Johanna's shoulders.

She was not surprised that the maid had insulted her. It was something she was used by at this point. But she had been in her shoes once, in a similar situation. But Isabella had been forgiven after she learned her lesson. She knew that she and Edward were not close, but she wondered if this was another possibility for her to get closer to him and help Johanna as well. Perhaps, if she could make Edward less extreme in his decisions early on, perhaps he would be easier to live with in the future.

"Do not worry. I am sure we can solve this." She looked at Mrs. Hammond. "Escort her to her chamber, but do not have her leave from there," said the young woman. Mrs. Hammond embraced Johanna once more and smiled in gratitude at Isabella who turned around to walk in the direction they had come from; Edward's apartments. Her heart beat madly as the gravity of the situation started weighing on her. What if she could not persuade Edward? She did not want to face him while he was angry. Isabella had just started being able to speak to him when he was his normal, arrogant self. She did not need to see him in his fury. It would send her running to Coldwick to catch the first ship to Spain.

Isabella arrived at his door and after a few deep breaths, she knocked. No one answered. After looking to see if it was unlocked, she stepped into the room, her parent's old quarters. It was as she had imagined it before they had moved from Adelton. Now it stood empty, and the bed was still to be made. Her guess was that he was not there.

So Isabella started roaming the castle, to seek him out. She hoped that he would take more kindly to her since their last encounter. After she asked around, there was one reluctant servant that mentioned the Throne Hall where she had planned to go originally.

The Throne Hall, a grand rectangular room, was situated in the west wing of the Palas. With its height of thirteen meters, it occupied the third and fourth floors. On three sides it was surrounded by colorful arcades, ending in an apse that was intended to hold the king's throne which had survived after many centuries. But it resided there like a monument of older days.

Paintings of Jesus, the Twelve Apostles, and six canonized kings surrounded the throne dais. The mural paintings were created by Artaich, a famous Angloan painter that had lived during the previous century. The floor mosaic was completed after King Philip's long reign. There was a chandelier fashioned after a Byzantine crown with intricate design. The Throne Hall amalgamated the Grail Hall from Parzival with a symbol of the divine right of kings, an incorporation of unrestricted sovereign power.

Over the throne hung the familiar portrait of King Philip, then another one of King Magnus. Finally, a third of King Jasper. Almost every noble household held a portrait of at least one of the three kings. But, since Philip's reign had been longer, his portrait grazed many more households. Some biased people imagined he was nobler. He had brought an era of peace and prosperity to Angloa. Some dubbed that era as the Pax Angloa in good humor. He was the man who had really brought the country together in a golden age of peace. It was usually the same portrait showing the king in his prime. The portrait showed a young man, with handsome and refined features. He had a chiseled jaw with a straight nose, steely blue eyes that were arrogant yet alert. He had thick, black hair and stared straight into the soul of whoever looked at the portrait. His face was also depicted on the coins of the country, and he was a well-known king in not just Angloa, but in many countries in Europe as well.

Next to him could be seen his brother, Magnus. The king with a much shorter reign was equally as handsome. But Magnus had been corrupted by his wife, and his failings had, in a sense, not only corrupted the country; but set the foundations for the threat from the English. He had left a mess for his son, Jasper, to clean up as best as he could. Magnus stared down, his eyes more severe, cutting through whoever dared to look at him. His hair was fairer than his brother's, his features softer, except for his eyes.

It was in that grand room that Isabella found Edward, staring at the stairs leading up to the now old and frail looking throne. He was so deep in thought that he did not notice her enter. When she first found him, she wondered if she should disappear before he noticed her. Edward still invoked a sense of caution in her. But she had to make sense of what had happened with Johanna. For surely, he would not just cold-heartedly thrown her out?

"King Philip was the last person to sit on that throne," she said shyly. Her sweet voice broke the otherwise pregnant silence and Edward looked startled for a split second until he saw who it was. He stared at the frail throne again and looked at it in disbelief. It did not fit in the room at all.

"He deemed that thing worthy?" he asked and his deep rich tones boomed throughout the room. Isabella smiled as she stared down at the embellished marble floor.

"It was said that he liked the simplicity of the throne more than the embellished rooms of this castle. That is one of the reasons he decided to have court moved to Wessport," she explained. The young woman fiddled with her skirts. Isabella was not used at all to be this close to Edward. She could not help the feeling that she was somehow a lamb standing next to a wolf. Edward only nodded and started making his way away from her. Isabella frowned as he left.

"I cannot help feeling that my lord does not find my presence pleasing," she blurted out without thinking. He stopped, with his back to hers and took some time before turning around, his head slightly lowered.

"Not at all, my lady," he muttered and bowed while continuing to the door.

"Then why are you so quick to leave now?" she blurted out again and took a few hesitant steps toward him.

"I think it is for the best," he stated, there was an undertone to his voice that Isabella did not like; as if he hid some anger.

"What makes you think so?" she asked, but still standing her ground. Edward laughed sarcastically and shook his head. "Have I done something to you that you treat me like this?" she asked angrily. The moment she finished Edward walked over to her in long strides, he calmly stopped right in front of her and the closeness made Isabella take a step back. It sparked new irritation within him.

"Do you see your reaction whenever I'm near you?" he growled. Isabella's delicate brows rose in disbelief. She wondered what insult the maid had said. But she was starting to have an inkling.

"I know very well of my reaction, my lord. You startle me. That is all," she said in a shaking but truthful voice. The young girl was trembling faintly as she rose her head and stared at his chest now. Edward just laughed dryly. But she never knew the full meaning behind those words. Isabella never understood the real question that he was asking: am I still a monster to you?

"Startle you..." he said bitterly. "Of course." He turned from her and all she could do was stare at his tense back. For once Isabella put herself in his shoes. Not once had she taken into consideration that he might actually have feelings as well. She had heard the whispers and rumors floating around the castle: the monster of Adelton Hall, Edward Cullen. Might the maid have uttered them in his presence?

"Might your reaction have something to do with the maid, Johanna, cleaning your chambers with Mrs. Hammond earlier?" she asked. Isabella had no idea what his reaction would be and there was a tense moment where both of them simply stood there in silence. His shoulders slowly relaxed as he turned around, facing her.

"Do not defend her, she spoke unjustly. It is my right to have her leave," his full lips spoke, catching her attention. Their closeness made her flush and feel uncomfortably warm. But she did not back away. She needed not only to gain his acceptance to get to Wessport but also to help Johanna.

"As a lord and a count you must be the bigger person. A slip of the tongue should not warrant a person being thrown out into the icy winds of winter, with no family or penny to their name," Isabella said, thinking of the sobbing girl.

"I do not care for her insulting you, Lady Swan," Edward said, almost whispering. Isabella knew that already. But she did not expect that he would do such an act for her, to defend her name. Once again, he had stepped in and proved himself her savior.

"I know she spoke ill of me. I am grateful that you defended my honor. But she is young. I have committed the same sin, but I have had the fortune of being forgiven. So why cannot you forgive her?" she pleaded. Her reasoning made her seem more mature than Edward had initially thought. He wondered if it was partly due to her harsh year, in the shadow of her father's death. He was amazed that their relationship had progressed to such a state where they could have a normal conversation without her recoiling.

"I never break my word. She needs to be punished for what she said, she needs to be made an example of," he said, proudly. Isabella sighed inwardly, sometimes she asked herself how many reputations and kingdoms had fallen because of one man's pride and arrogance.

"Well, you can keep your promise. You can punish her and still keep her here in the castle," Isabella began. "I am sure that a week's work as a scullery maid will set her straight again. Have you no compassion for what would happen to her out there, alone in the world?"

Edward stared at her chocolate eyes and saw her measuring every part of his being in them. He recognized in them, the same headstrong and resilient young woman he had seen for the first time at King Jasper' court. But Edward did not want to appear as a lesser man before her, for then he could lose her. He did not want to appear unfeeling, like a monster. Isabella's hope grew as Edward sighed in defeat.

"She will be working as a scullery maid for a month," he muttered, annoyed that she managed to persuade him, but thankful. Edward understood now that he could never do such a thing to that young girl. But what was the difference between Johanna and Alan Moore? Only because Alan Moore's crime had been significantly worse, did that mean that the man should suffer a worse fate? He had repented, and Edward had no personal grudge against him. Isabella made him see reason when his anger ruled his senses. In battle, everything had been easy because it was easy to switch off one's emotions. But life… it was something else. He had always lived by the philosophy that emotions could get you killed, and now he found that suppressing certain of his emotions made him a worse person. It made him lack honor, and he had always prided himself on being an honorable man.

As he looked down on her happy face, he saw her lips move but could not make out the words. He only heard the sound of his blood rushing through his veins. His heart beat loudly and he was afraid, for the first time in a long time. He was afraid that he had started feeling some deep affection for this girl. And he was even more afraid that his feelings wouldn't be returned.

December 25th

They sat by the head table in the large room as the guests started rolling in. Finely dressed women and men stared in awe around them as they were led through the lavish corridors. Their mouths nearly dropped as they got to see the Hall of Singers. Some noblemen had been to that room years before. But they were still impressed, like always, by the intricate design and details of the Hall.

However, most people looked in curiosity toward the head table where Edward sat, dark, brooding and mysterious next to a beautiful Isabella Swan. She was dressed in an elegant lavender blue dress with a darker blue damask pattern. The skirt of the gown opened up at its front, showing another pale yellow skirt in fine fabric under it. Her chestnut locks were up, held in place by ornate pins and she wore a small crown made from golden leaves.

To most in the room, she looked like a Greek goddess and there were many that envied Edward that moment. Edward himself was wearing a dark blue jerkin in velvet with a small flared collar. He wore black gloves and his black mask as usual. And finally, he wore a fine pair of dark breeches with his finest polished boots. It was one of his better outfits that Mrs. Hammond and even George insisted on him wearing. Mrs. Hammond had even said at one point that if it wasn't for himself, then he should at least make an effort to look good for the guests. He had to leave a lasting impression of Adleton Hall. Edward did as the old woman wished although he doubted that most guests would look at his clothes. After he had allowed Johanna to stay, the old woman had taken a kinder approach to him as she spoke to him.

He still remembered how, early that morning, he had ventured to the servant's quarters himself and asked to speak with the girl. At first, she had been frightened of him. But when he said that she was allowed to stay, under the condition that she now be a scullery maid, taking twice the workload of the other maids, she agreed. Her face had turned from that of sorrow to hope and gratefulness. She had gone down on her knees and clasped her hands tightly in front of him, deeply apologizing and thanking him. But when Edward said that it was Isabella she should thank and apologize to, Johanna still insisted that she owed him a great debt of gratitude. But nonetheless, she had almost immediately run to Isabella to apologize for her brash words and to thank her.

Edward was soon brought out from his thoughts by the arrival of the last guests. As he suspected, most guests stared in horror at his masked face as they neared the head table and got a closer look at him. Edward sighed inwards but still kept a menacing aura about himself. He finished his third cup of wine that evening, feeling the effects of the alcohol coursing through his blood. He didn't let the whispers and stolen glances get to him.

There was a moment where Isabella noticed the way the guests were looking at Edward. She had once been like them and was in amazement at how quickly one's outlook on someone could change. She received some looks as well, but most were the opposite. Men stared at her with lust, finding that she had grown since departing for Wessport a year ago. Women stared at her with disdain because her name was dirty. Isabella could still not imagine what Edward must go through at that moment. But if the glances and whispers affected him, he never showed it. He was as stoic and silent as ever.

A group of people that Isabella could not fail to notice entered to room and Edward, sitting next to her, could hear her swallow loudly. Isabella knew them well. They were three families that had been very close to her own. They had always spent time together when her father was alive and she had seen those men and women as her family; even though they were not related by blood. But when her father had been taken away, none of them had spoken out or tried to defend him. One of the women, Margaret Wynd, wife of Nicholas Wynd, a local baron, had come to them to offer her deepest apologies. She had been there for her mother, the few weeks they had stayed near Hayes. She had been Lady Renée's only emotional support next to Isabella. Lady Wynd was the only woman to meet Isabella's eyes. She looked at the young girl, sitting next to the menacing Edward Cullen and felt her heart cry out for her.

Behind them came a younger group of men and women. They were the children of said families: the Wynds' the de Bergs' and the Martels'. They had been Isabella's friends once. She shifted her gaze away from the four women and three men that walked in. They, of course, noticed her instantly and most of them could not help their lips turn into a thin line as they saw her standing next to Edward. One or two shot her a wicked glee, taking great pleasure seeing the truth of the rumors. When Edward saw this, together with Isabella's eyes turning blank and dull he leaned in closer, as if wanting to shield her from the arrows sent her way. His judgment might have been clouded as he downed yet another cup of wine.

Her nostrils filled with his scent, pine, sandalwood, and leather. She got distracted by her former friends and felt how her eyes wandered to Edward. His closeness made her uncomfortable as she blushed, feeling her heart gaining speed and her hands twitching for her skirt. She looked away, never meeting his gaze, embarrassed at her reaction. Edward found it surprising at first, but then amusing. She could hear a deep, discreet chuckle escape him. The sound was like music to her ears as it boomed, the vibrations running through her. It was the first time she heard him laugh.

"Stop," Isabella whispered in his direction, bringing up a pale blue fan to hide her red face with. She could see his mouth, it was smiling, actually smiling.

"Stop what?" he asked, playing the fool. It only teased Isabella further and she grew more flustered. Until this point, no one in the room had noticed their peculiar exchange. But slowly, Carlisle started listening in and glancing at the couple, surprised at what was taking place before him.

"This…what you are doing!" she hissed through her teeth. Isabella tried to keep a straight face as she looked forward, ignoring his warm breath on her shoulder. She shivered, but it was not like before when she was wary of Edward. This was a different type of shiver.

"What am I doing?" he asked. She had completely forgotten about her old friends and her attention was now entirely focused on trying to regain control over her actions. Edward had used similar tricks before, but he never thought Isabella would respond in such a way. He was pleasantly surprised. He leaned in slightly closer, reaching beyond her, grabbing a cup by her side, looking at it and claiming that it was dirty. Edward asked a maid to bring a new one.

"You know very well what you are doing, my lord," she said, almost irritated. Carlisle watched them, intrigued. When Edward leaned in closer, he almost choked on his wine. It served to alert Lady Renée of what was going on as well.

"Did I startle you?" he asked innocently. Isabella wondered if he was getting back at her from their conversation the previous day.

"You know you did," she responded through gritted teeth and fanning herself, thankful that none of the guests noticed their intimate exchange. She had no idea he could have such an effect on her. She did not like it at all. Isabella wanted to have a clear mind whenever she spoke with him. Edward only sighed and leaned back in his chair. He could feel Carlisle's eyes on him, filled with questions and a certain expression that asked him 'what are you doing?'

The Hall was finally filled with noblemen and women from all over the county of Cadherra. There was a general murmur as people whispered about the lord of the castle. This was the man that had so valiantly saved the country from the English? The rumors about a scarred face had come to be somewhat true. Some looked at Isabella and her mother in pity to have to live under such circumstances.

Most of Isabella's old friends, young women that had abandoned her when her rank in society had gone down, looked at her in defiance. They were glad that she had only come to know more grief. They started gossiping immediately about her and her husband to be. But there were two that looked at her in grief, ashamed of their passiveness when she had lost everything and saddened at her new reality. They were Louisa de Berg and Catherine Martel. They had grown up with Isabella and the three of them, together with Annette Wynd, had been like sisters. A year had been all it took to break that relationship. Louisa and Catherine had been told by their parents to stay away from Isabella. They were not allowed to write to her or speak with her. Soon they became occupied with other thoughts, mainly the war, slowly forgetting about their fallen friend. Annette, however, had always been slightly jealous and irritated of Isabella. So she took no shame in casting her away, even though her mother, Margaret Wynd, had shamelessly been there for Lady Renée in the beginning.

Edward signaled the servants to bring out the food that had been prepared for the evening. Soon the fragrance of food wafted through the air as servants started carrying trays of various meats from the kitchens. The guest started flavoring the meads and wines while eating away. They were entertained by various jesters and musicians; hired to play the whole night. A few moments after having started, Edward signaled for the musicians to stop playing. He started sobering up and felt it was time for a speech. All eyes were on him as he rose from his seat, surprising many with his tall, muscular frame. The new clothes he wore did not make him look as bulky as before. His commanding presence silenced the guests in an instant.

"I welcome you all to this yule celebration," he started. His deep and rich voice boomed throughout the Hall. "We are reminded of the birth of our Lord and Savior. I want each and every one of you to take a moment to realize how lucky we are all here being able to have this food and wine at our table when there are people freezing and starving." Everyone was listening intensely as he spoke.

"I want you to join me in a toast for the end of this war, but also for the luck we have had to come to be here." He rose his cup and all in the hall did the same. They drank and soon the musicians started playing a merry tune again. Many of the guests started speaking about the irony of his words, for how could a man with such an appearance talk about luck? They came to wonder how it was that Isabella was even able to sit next to such a vile thing. Secretly, however, most of the women there, even if afraid of him, found themselves drawn to him. He showed strength in himself and did not seem to be affected at all as most people sneered at him behind his back, even if it was very noticeable. They had never seen such a man, living in their secluded estates and mansions, bored beyond belief, longing for court life or for the European mainland.

There came a moment during the evening when the music ended and the tables were cleared. The servants came and moved the furniture to stand against the walls and so the dance floor had been cleared.

The Hall of Singers now had its previous empty space, outlined by its guests and the tables and chairs. It was time for the first dance, an Angloan tradition dating back to the start of the millennium. Tradition called for the host of the feast to pick a partner. Edward knew this, and he also knew that he was not necessarily obligated to choose Isabella. But if there was one thing on this earth that Edward particularly disliked, it was dancing. All eyes were now on him as the room turned quiet, only a few murmurs and whispers could be heard as the tension rose. Being chosen as the partner for the first dance was an incredible honor, usually reserved for the woman of the highest rank. It would have to be Lady Yolanda de Berg, who was married to an Earl, ranking lower than that of a count, but still higher than most in the hall. She looked at him, her red hair pulled into a tight bun managing to bounce in anticipation as she awaited Edward to near her. Isabella or Lady Renée were only noblewomen, with no specific rank. Lady Renée lost her rank when her husband died and Isabella could not receive her father's title as his status as traitor did not permit him to pass it on to his daughter after his death.

The musicians waited in anticipation, wondering who his lordship would go for. There were some in the room that already knew the answer. Carlisle, Mrs. Hammond, Alice, and George smiled as Edward took long and decisive steps toward Isabella, stopping just before her and bowing deeply. She looked around the room and blushed, accepting his hand. He took her petite hand in his large one and led her to the dance floor. Edward could feel her nervousness as he led her through a sea of critical eyes. He squeezed her hand, reassuring her that he would not leave her side. She squeezed his back.

A slow and sweet melody played as they started dancing a pavane, a court dance meant for entertainment and display of the skill of the dancers. It was a poetic sight, the most dramatic of the bunch kept saying. The beauty danced with the beast, it was indeed something out of a fairytale. Others argued that it was a horrible sight to see such an innocent girl so close to that enigmatic man. But there were some in the crowd that did not mind Edward at all. They had no reason to despise him as it seemed most in the crowd did. They rather respected him for not bending under the critical eyes and whispers.

Soon everything around Edward seemed forgotten and he only had eyes for her. Isabella let herself be led and felt how the music rushed through her, sending adrenaline rushing through her body. They shut out the stares and whispers of the world around them and grew closer in body and spirit. But they still held the tasteful distance that the dance required. When the music stopped, he bowed and she curtsied. He led away from the dance floor as the crowd applauded at the beautifully executed dance between the two. When they stood on the side, her hand in his she found that she did not want to let go.


Author's Note: Yet another chapter I'm posting. I can't believe how fast this story is developping. i'm having so much fun writing it for everyone! I hope you are having as fun reading it! I want to give a great deal of thanks for the amazing amount of reviews I recieved on the last fic, it was amazing! I have never seen that quantity of reviews before and I was so surprized that you guys liked the story enough to comment on it! I appreciate the critique, the questions etc! I try to answer as best as I can :) I had a bit of a struggle with this chapter, but I hope it turned out okay! :) Please R&R if you liked it!

Cheers!