Esme was having an early lunch with Rosalie and Alice, to see how the girls were settling into married life.

"They are full young," Carlisle said, in a considering tone, as Esme told her employer she needed a half-day within her first week of working for him. "I always thought it was better to wait until a woman was grown to make a bride of her." Carlisle was looking over the supply orders Esme had written out this morning. Sitting in his chair in the parlour, as Esme put on her trusty hat; slightly squished but with a wide brim. "Early matches can be so imprudent." He added, tone conversational, not judgemental.

Esme felt her own stomach tighten. She was only two months out of school when Charles had asked for her hand. She had been so very young and hadn't thought the decision made her any wiser or older. But she let the old feelings wash over and past her. Now she was thirty and she lived in a darling cottage. Quite good for thirty.

"Not, of course, that these are bad young men," Carlisle said quickly, looking up at her with eyes slightly wide.

Esme smiles. "Of course." She agrees easily. Jasper had held himself so consciously and carefully, gentle in every bit of his movements; very aware of his face. Emmett had thick red stitching on his shoulder like a line of fire ants; as though he had ripped the sleeve and had it mended by a clumsy hand, possibly his own. "I've known my share of bad young men." She said, and she pauses at the door. "Are you sure you won't need me?" She asked him.

Carlisle looks at her and nods warmly. "For now, I'll manage quite alright at the office alone." He assures her as she steps out the door. "Don't feel the need to stay away, of course." He adds gently.

"Of course!" Esme agrees cheerily and waved before she went through the gate. She was embarrassingly, thrillingly, close to skipping towards the Whitlock home. It made her feel silly and girlish; but she thought that Carlisle was a good-looking, almost distinguished man, who had a chance of being very fetching if he didn't dress so dated. In so far, Esme hadn't seen more than his wrist and he would doubtlessly be considered by Alice to be painfully unfashionable.

She had been originally surprised he needed a nurse at all. Until she had actually been with him and his patients.

The first man was Mr Chaney and Chaney Jr; the young man had sliced his leg open doing chores and while very alert, was getting slightly dizzy by the time his father lugged him inside. Esme had shown them in and gotten the thread and needle ready, while Carlisle thoroughly washed his hands.

She smiled when he entered, but Carlisle was already Doctor Cullen. Doctor Cullen was strict, severe to the extreme and completely unrecognisable to the pleasant man she'd been met with at the blimp hanger. This was almost an entirely different person. He scolded the boy for being careless and reckless, and told his father there was no choice; three days off that leg.

The loggers grumbled and muttered, but in the end, they agreed, thanked him, paid and left.

When the door closed behind them, Carlisle chuckled to himself. "You can lead a fool to water …" he muttered, and Esme frowned at him. "Is anything the matter?" He asked her pleasantly.

Esme felt a little lost, a little on edge. "Your demeanour, with them, I almost thought you were a stranger." She found herself saying, but it sounded as though she was talking through water, in her own ears.

Her husband had been the same; laughing, gale and hearty, with friends and family. But as soon as they were alone; his entire personality changed; behind closed doors, where no one would ever believe her. He was a tyrant, nothing was ever right, she was never right. Too fat, too slow, too naïve. Esme knew now, as she did when she was gazing at his tombstone that the most naïve thing she had ever done was agree to marry Charles.

But she shakes away that fear, because he was her employer, not her husband. And because of Edward; the boy was easy and cheerful besides. Edward had seen more of Carlisle than she ever had, though to what extent wasn't her business. If the boy wasn't frightened of him, then Esme had no reason to be either.

Carlisle, for his part, seemed undisturbed by her words. Shrugging, he glances to his desk to make a note of the patient. "Well, a job isn't for pleasure." He says briskly. "I'm here to attend to their physical wounds. On Sundays, I can be compassionate. Until then; they are only in need of a steady hand." He said with a smile.

Esme didn't think that was true. A doctor needed to be compassionate too. But the man had his mind made up; it seemed, and the townsfolk seemed equally content with it. It was to her, it seemed, to fill the deficient in bedside manner. She could bear it well enough.

0o0

Rosalie stepped into the front door and gave Alice a neat hug, and a rather stern kiss. Emmett had walked her here and had gone with Jasper to mulch horses or chop fenceposts. Whatever labouring work needed doing. Rosalie had been very giving; she had given Emmett a small kiss before he left, which had lit up his whole face and sent him off whistling.

It did little to belie Rosalie's foul mood, so was very disinterested as Alice showed her the well little house. "This is my home!" She said proudly, as Rosalie made a beeline to the settee without prompting. "I look after it." She added with a dreamy sigh.

Rosalie said nothing, and Alice seemed to accept her temper delicately, pouring her coffee and cutting her a slice of the sweet baked loaf. "So, what is so wrong?" Alice asked her after taking her own cup.

"Their house doesn't have a floor, Alice!" Rosalie exploded, her mouth twisted into a snarl uglier than Jasper's. "It's a shack with eight people in it!"

Alice blinks, before glancing down into her coffee. "… He seems nice." She tried.

But Rosalie did not want the attempt, though at Alice's meek response she does force herself to settle. "He has to be," Rosalie snorts. "His mother is always watching."

Rosalie could barely think without Mrs McCarty bustling about, telling her to hang laundry or scrub plates or tromp into the tree-line and call for the younger boys. The orders were gently doled out all day, and Rosalie was tired and frayed and couldn't even say she was bullied. The entire family worked hard for so little. Rosalie didn't think Emmett would be unkind to her if not for his mother, but the way Alice's grip tightens on her cup.

"Are you okay?" Alice asks, her face drawn.

Rosalie rolls her eyes. Emmett was brutish, but no brute. After New York, Rosalie knew what they were. "Yes, yes." She insists, her anger fading to huffy irritation. "It's not as though he's any meaner when she's not around. It's not as though he can … force anything." Rosalie said quietly. "There's five people in that house; we're never alone. He kissed me once." She said. It was on the first morning that she slept in his bed. He had cuddled into her back, and when her eyes were just fluttering open, she found him staring down at her, looking just shy of reverent. She watched as he bid her good morning and leaned down and kissed her. Then his father called for him, and that was that.

Alice looked wistful. "Jasper hasn't kissed me yet." Alice says, beginning to frown. "I've kissed him at least three times, but I don't want to be cheap." Alice admitted primly. Rosalie had no clue how a wife could be cheap in that sense. "I don't know how to go about it, I kept trying to lean my face upwards, but he asked if my neck was sore." At this, the woman pouts, and Rosalie chuckled into her sip of coffee. Annoyed by this, Alice waves her off dismissively.

Rosalie shrugs. "It's not as though I don't know how men are." She said. She didn't plan on telling Emmett she wasn't a virgin, or how or why. She thought back to the dirt floor and the cut on her thumb. "I just know I didn't sign up for this." Rosalie whispers, unclenching her fist when she crushed her sweet slice in her palm. "He misled me!" She snaps, throwing the crumbs angrily back onto her plate.

Alice looks concerned initially, but she begins to grin. "Rosalie, if you really can't do this, maybe you could sleep here!" Alice suggested eagerly. "Jasper sends himself to the guest bedroom, but if you stayed than he would sleep next to me!" She said.

Rosalie gave Alice a very strange look. "… Alice, what man doesn't sleep next to his wife?" Rosalie asks her. "I wake up with Emmett nosing my hair every morning." She said, rolling her eyes. The blood rushes to Alice's cheeks, but before the little woman could start to giggle, Rosalie shakes her head sternly. "No." She says.

Rosalie considered Alice's dilemma, after all, it was much more entertaining than Rosalie's pain. "Alice … how disfigured is he?" She asks. "Does he even look like a man … down there?" She hissed.

Alice scowls, and focuses her attention on the sugar cube in her tea. "That's a rude thing to say to me." The woman replied with a sulky pout.

"You have not the faintest clue." Rosalie says with unkind satisfaction. She was glad that for all Alice's assurances and confidence, she was just as lost as Rosalie was here.

Alice glares, but before she could say anything, there's a knock at the door.

"Girls!" It was Esme, who opens the door and pops her head in. She chubby cheeks are slightly flushed from her walk, and pleased. "Hope you don't mind my interrupting." She says with a smile. Alice jumps up and runs to throw her arms around her rotund waist.

"Esme!" She cheered and ushered her inside. "Come sit and have some of my sweet loaf!" Esme thanks her, and Rosalie smirks into the rim of her cup.

"Alice needs advising." She mutters, chuckling darkly.

"Rosalie!" Alice hisses fiercely.

But Esme only cuts herself a slice of cake and thanks Alice for a cup of tea. "What's this then, dear?" She asks the little, moping woman. Alice only shakes her head, embarrassed.

"Jasper takes the guest room." Rosalie explains in a bad whisper. Alice kicks her under the table. "Perhaps because you've no bust, he thinks you a man." Rosalie simpers, rubbing her shin with displeasure.

"Rosalie," It Esme's turn as she tuts, and pets Alice's hands comfortingly. "Come," Esme says to her soothingly, "a boy so … with his appearance, perhaps he doesn't want to startle you." Esme says, but her tone is halting, and she looks unsure herself.

Alice groans. "But he doesn't!" She insists. Her hands curl into fists and she shakes them at the sky with passion. "I'm not scared of him one bit! I want!" At the last word, she clutches at the air, before flopping limply into her chair.

For the first time, Esme wonders at Alice's exact age, with growing trepidation as she takes in the slight figure. Surely, even if the scarred boy was young, joining the army mustn't make him very young. Alice, on the other hand, seemed rather very young.

But Rosalie just rolls her eyes. "Well tell him." Rosalie snaps. Alice mimics her words in a sarcastic tone and offers nothing else.

Sighing, Esme settles back into her seat to take a sip of tea. "Rosalie, how is Emmett?" She asks her, "I've met his mother, she's so kind!" Esme smiles at the memory of how friendly yet brisk the woman was. "Really, a very warm person." She continues pleasantly.

But Rosalie's expression is angry, and her jaw is clenched tightly. "They're fine, they're fine!" Rosalie snapped, but it seems the flood had broken the dam, and Rosalie is hunched forward and ferocious. "I've barely taken off these boots all week and I get pawed at every night by a man who still lives with his entire clan and has not even two coins to rub together –"

The back-door swings, a whine in its hinges, and all the woman jump to attention. But the door was almost swung closed, stopped by Jasper, who stands there alone, Emmett's back disappearing as he hurries away. Rosalie bites her bottom lip, and Alice straightens up in her seat with alarm. Rosalie manages, more controlled; "they're fine." In a small whisper.

But they all knew he'd heard her. Jasper held up his canteen. "… We came for water." He explains, his tone calm as he walks in. Alice's hands flutter, but he goes to the sink and pumps water to fill both canteens. "I'll take his to him. Ma'am." He says, inclining his head vaguely towards them as he walked out the door again.

Alice's hands clutched her own hem with distress. "How much did they hear?" She hisses at the other two women, "Oh, I hope they only heard Rosalie." She worries, and this time Rosalie kicks her under the table.

0o0

Rosalie is extremely uncomfortable when Emmett walks her back … home. He looks miserable and drags his feet and keeps his cap low over his eyes.

She's not sure how to make it any better. She certainly wasn't going to apologise. It didn't matter if she was harsh, or even sorry; she wasn't going to say those words. It wasn't in her nature. When they get to the McCarty residence, it's … empty. Rosalie is a little shocked; the house hasn't been empty since she'd been here. It's awfully strange.

The largest room is the main room inside the front door. It has a couch and armchairs and a small fireplace on one side. The other side of the room is the dining table, a mis-match of chairs, a sink and shelves.

There was one long alley of a bedroom grouping along the far side, all divided by thick, stiff curtains with no real walls. A 'girl's room' for Sarah, Rebecca and Mary jr, and one 'boy's room', for the two young lads, Johnny-boy and baby Sonny. Emmett and Rosalie almost had their own sectioned off place. But baby Sonny had nightmares, and he was a sweet toddler, so Rosalie helped him set up his cot next to their bed. Emmett seemed mildly annoyed by it; but it seemed mostly because Johnny was prone to flatulence in his sleep and woke Emmett up in the morning by prying open his eyelids with his baby fingers.

It turned out, Lenny lived with his wife and her ill sister a little further into the woods. Henry also lived 'out of home'; he built himself a hut a few paces to the left and slept there. Only Lenore lived in town and seemed to come by every second day with an armful of cloth that needed sewing. She was teaching Rosalie but did not make a kind or cruel mentor.

But tonight, everyone was gone. Rosalie glanced in all the bunks, hoping that at least the surlier Sarah had stayed home.

She looks over, uncertain, as Emmett tugs off his coat at the door. She wasn't scared, but she was nervous and in such an excessively awkward situation.

"They're gone to Lenny; Victoria felt the quickening and told Ma early." Emmett told her, and while his tone was sullen, he also didn't face her directly. Rosalie couldn't manage to be excited for a woman she'd never met; the thought of the quickening makes her own stomach churn. "She's excited about babies; Ma wanted the littlies to run off their mischief too." Emmett continues.

Rosalie glances around, and desperately hopes she might hear the screaming parade coming back in a few moments. But she doesn't, and some time passes, as Emmett takes a kettle to the water silo out the back. He comes back and silently puts it on the fire, and then sits at the stool there.

Rosalie continues to dither at the centre of the room for a moment, and her own indecision makes her irritated. She clears her head and walks over to stand next to him. "Emmett, about my earlier words, I hope you're not in a temper." She tells him shortly.

Emmett looks into the fire with his shoulders slumped. "I'll send you home." He tells her. "As soon as I've the money for the ticket." He heaves himself up and wanders over to his-their bed. "You can tell them whatever you please, matters nought to me." He mutters.

Rosalie felt a jolt of panic in her gut. She couldn't go back to her family like this. That was the entire point of her fury at him – she had used this as her entire, dramatic last resort. "I don't want to leave, Emmett, that's not my intention." She told him honestly.

Emmett spreads his hands over the thick curtain of their 'room'. "Well this is all I can offer." He tells her plainly. "I know I misled you, but your tintype was so pretty …." For a moment, at least, Emmett looked less sad and simply more ashamed. "I thought if you saw how well we worked, you'd like to join our family." He admits quietly, not just shamed; embarrassed. It was obvious he thought she was looking down on him.

Rosalie lets his words hang in the air for a moment as she thinks. Rosalie hadn't known Emmett long, and he had omitted so much from the moment they'd been in contact. But ... in person, he seemed earnest, if loud and brash and too easy. She wasn't surprised, in hindsight, that he had only misled her through the lack of information; she'd known his writing and he had admitted he wasn't fond of doing it.

She doubts she would find him a very good liar – especially when compared to her. She remembers, their tiff on her first night here, he had said something about being able to speak to her as he wished as husband and wife. But his voice had broken on the last word, and almost immediately after he had glanced, guilt-ridden, in the direction of the house and his mother's loud voice.

And there simply was nothing else for her; no New York, no Arizona summer house. She'd be surprised if, when she did send her mother a letter, it wouldn't simply be returned. The Hale's wouldn't accept their daughter back after a stunt like this, she'd known that already. Her flighty, outlandish behaviour would have made them the shame of Rochester. "I like your family. I think they're good people." She says at last. "But you did lie." She looks at him, and this time, he meets her gaze steadily.

"I did."

0o0

Bella took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she walked to the only doctor in town. He practised in his home, and the breath-taking man with startlingly green eyes was his ward. She'd had a frequent visitor in the new Jessica Yorkie, who came by nearly every day to tell her everything that was going on in town. In the first few days, in which she became acquainted with the town and its inhabitants, Bella considered her a valued informant. Now that she'd covered everything Bella began to find her very irritating indeed.

But it had been Jessica that told her of the man Doctor Cullen considered his charge. He was Edward, he gave piano lessons, and Jessica held him in personal distain after meeting him, as she found him 'taciturn, proud and arrogant'.

Luckily, it was a trip, quite literally, down stairs to see Jessica off after another insipid gossip-filled tea-time that gave Bella the opportunity to make a judgement for herself. Though it left her with a bit of a limp along the trek to the Doctor's house.

That is, she was going to visit the Doctor Cullen, and, more than likely, perhaps be greeted at the door by the young man. The very thought made her blush a little, as she knocked on the front door and waited, butterflies in her stomach.

Bella smiles as handsomely as possible as the open begins to open. But when it is open, she struggles to keep her smile in place. Esme looks pleasantly surprised to see her and doesn't realise that she'd dashed any hopes at all. "Miss Swan, how do you do?" She asks kindly.

Bella shrugs, still slightly disappointed. She hadn't exactly forgotten Esme's position, but she didn't factor it into her plan, if it even was a plan. "Slightly poorly. I hope I could see …" Edward, she thought with embarrassment, "um, the doctor …?" She asked.

Esme was already nodding and ushering her inside. "Come wait in the kitchen, have tea." She offers.

Bella walks with her through the house; a small parlour, a staircase, a mudroom. The kitchen was small and relied on the store for most of the light not offered by the window. Esme waves her to a chair and asks her of her ailment.

"It's nothing too serious." Bella tells her, leaning down and holding her leg out straight. "I fell, at the motel. My knee seems to be inundated." She explains as Esme waits for her to work down her stocking and rearrange her skirt.

"Oh my –" Esme gasps lightly at Bella's swollen and purple knee- "how badly did you fall, dear?" She asks, tutting slightly.

"Far from my worst fall!" Bella assured her quickly, already embarrassed by such overt concern. "Only down a half-flight of stairs. Disagreed with me, hardly does, usually." Bella mused.

"You do seem prone." Esme agreed, with some amusement; no doubt recalling all the stumbles she'd witnessed on their journey. "No more getting up, I will bring him here instead." Esme decides, and trots off with determination.

Bella doesn't have the chance to remind her of the tea she offered. But she wasn't particularly thirsty; it was just a little awkward sitting in someone else's kitchen. It led her to thinking about how awkward the motel was. Her first few nights were actually paid by the Mayor himself; not out of any altruistic spirit, he had lost a bet when she brought the brides and it was his wager. But soon she'd be paying out of pocket, and that worried her greatly.

Bella had thought, that for all her planning and thinking and strategy, that the exodus and illnesses of the women in town would leave something vacant. But nothing suited her needs, or her dreams. Too decrepit, too far into town. Bella stifled a weary sigh; this was a lot more work than she thought it would be. At this rate; she'd have to have her library-house built herself. Completely out of her own purse. She had to reconfigure her entire budget, and she wasn't sure if she could manage it.

There was a throat clearing, and Bella spun in her seat, ignoring the throb of protest from her knee. "Hello." Edward said, his voice strained. "Can I help you?"

Bella blinked at him, a little dumb-struck. Her ears turned as pink as his were. "Just, um …" Bella looked around, as though Esme was liable to pop out of the cupboard to explain, "for the doctor." She muttered.

It was then that she noticed how flushed the man was, and how he seemed to be … covering his nose? His hand remained delicately in front of his face, and Bella carefully sniffed while looking straight down, hoping the walk to the house hadn't left her reeking of too much sweat.

It was when she was looking down that she realised Edward hadn't been covering his nose, rather averting his gaze from her shamelessly completely exposed leg. Her chest and face burning, Bella quickly flipped her skirt down firmly, keeping her palms pressed to her knee. She was mortified to be displayed so absolutely humiliating, and cheap.

Edward's gaze remained fixed to the left, his ears pink. "I see," he cleared his throat, and pressed his long white hand to his chest. "… Edward Mason. The town mailman, for all intents and purposes." He said, glancing on her slightly and offering some sort of half-smile.

Bella nodded quickly, "I know," she said quickly, "the local pianist, too." Jessica had spent some time chatting of every facet of Edward Mason, until they'd actually met. Edward, for his part, looked very pleased.

"Always appreciate being fully considered as such." He told her warmly enough. Bella nodded, and a short but awkward silence stretched out.

"Do you like reading?" Bella asked him suddenly.

"Beg pardon?"

In the face of his polite confusion, she faltered. She had no experience looking at a face so finely made. "I was – wanted … a library." She said haltingly, and Edward frowns, not with any harshness, but continued politeness that Bella wasn't entirely sure stemmed from something other than indifference. "You are the mailman and I will be … the librarian." She managed, already mortified by her words. She knew he must think her nothing but a stupid, insipid type of girl; more like Jessica than herself.

Thankfully, there were footsteps behind them, and Edward glanced over his shoulder only to incline his head towards her. "Good luck to you." He said cordially, before stepping to the side. "Carlisle, The Swan has an injury." He says at the moment the doctor steps through into the kitchen, Esme at his heels. She was holding a dinner tray full of things that weren't dishes, and sets them and herself down next to Bella.

Carlisle turned away to look back at Edward and Bella couldn't see his expression. "Miss Swan," he began sternly, before he turned towards her, with a cold smile, "pleasure as always." He said dryly. Bella was a little taken aback; the man seemed slightly stilted and much sterner than he did picking up Esme that first afternoon.

He kneels at her feet, but pauses a moment, eyes askance. "Edward, I believe you have one more message to deliver to the Major?" He asks archly, in a tone that didn't really signify a question.

For Edward's part, he seemed immediately displeased. "It would be my utmost misery." He informs the man.

Bella had the distinct impression of being caught up in anther's business, and looked to Esme, who was busied sorting the supplies she'd brought on her tray. "You should have escorted Miss Evenson like I told you to." The doctor said, and Esme looks up expectantly at her name.

"Esme said she would be more than happy to walk alone!"

At Edward's obviously cross tone, she nodded firmly, seeming more amused than anything. "That I did," she agreed cheerfully, and then looked at Carlisle with a mockery of reproach. "You must start calling me Esme, too." She reminded him and looked to Bella. "I've no formalities, isn't that right?"

"Yes …" Bella said, as Esme began to speak to Carlisle about bandages, and Bella saw Edward shift, towards the exit, and her heart fell into her stomach. "You may stay, if you wish." She told him quickly.

"Which knee is it, dear?" Esme asked, looking down pointed at Bella's skirt.

Edward shook his head, a blush spreading across his cheeks again. "No, I'd best not …" He muttered, no doubt remembering which knee Bella had injured. "I'm off to swallow my pride, then." He says, spiteful green eyes fixed on Carlisle golden head.

"Yes you are." Carlisle answered blandly, and after Edward left, he looked to Bella with such a pitiless gaze she almost quaked in her boots. "Now, what is the problem?" He asked coldly.

0o0

Edward was unhappy in the position of groveller. It wasn't as though he had done something very bad; reading letters with no substance further than 'oh please, don't fear my scars' was hardly a cardinal sin. It wasn't as though he was a professional mailman, after all; this was simply a public service he performed for the town. He wouldn't usually read letters anyway; it was just that Jasper had been so secretive about his; and Edward loathed not being privy to something. Never mind that he was certain the entire bridal service was a scam.

It was in a blackened mood that Edward knocked on the Whitlock door. It was opened so immediately, that even Edward startled. Little Miss Mary beamed up at him. "Hello Edward." She said brightly.

Edward frowned imperiously. "You should refrain from using my first name."

"I don't see why," Alice answered blandly, leaning against the doorframe with all the languidly of a cat, examining the polished metal ring on her finger. "You know, I've been married for so long now, and not one person has called me Mrs Whitlock. It's a shame, really."

"You have not been married for long at all!" Edward reminded her, almost laughing on her genuine expression of vexation. "I need the Major."

"As do I, yet he continues to have chores to do." Alice says, as though it's a very heavy burden. "I have chores, yet now I run them out."

For a moment, Edward's lip quirks upwards, and Alice beams brightly in response.

"Come on, make a mess, give me something to do." Alice tells him cheerfully, finally stepping aside and letting Edward through.

He chuckles as he walks through the door. "I'll do my best."

They end up sitting in the kitchen and chatting most of an hour. The topics were broad and quickly dealt with; the piano, city fashions, the little shop Alice used to live and work at, even a little of Edward's time in Chicago. Edward was almost surprised at how well they kept up with each other. But throughout the rapid-fire conversation, one thing remained clear; this was a woman who loved her husband. Edward didn't doubt it; but at such an early acquaintance, he found it strange.

But it was in complete comradery that Jasper found them in; when he walks through the door that night. His limp was slightly more pronounced then when he left, evident when Alice stood up and started rearranging the chairs, so he could immediately sit.

Jasper remains standing as he looked at Edward in bemusement. "Teddy, what on earth are you doing here?" He asked.

Edward huffed, looking very put-upon. "I wouldn't usually waste my time here," Edward explains, to which Alice giggles, "but I'm under orders."

"I've missed you, Jasper, all done?" Alice asked eagerly, beaming merrily as she holds the chair out for him, "It's early, but if you're hungry I'll make you something and have supper underway soon."

Jasper, for his part, looks neutral as he sits. "No need, ma'am."

"But you should scamper," Edward tells her, eyes on Jasper. "I need to speak with him alone."

"Well!" Alice looks a little annoyed at being dismissed, "I'll work on the outline of the trousers now." Edward hummed, the clothing obviously being part of their earlier conversation, as she trots off.

When the door to the little back workroom Alice had taken over was firmly closed, Jasper's tone is harsh; "You shouldn't speak to her like that."

"Abominable, aren't I?" Edward's voice was airy and bored, but his green eyes were bright with mirth. "Unfortunately, I have the sinking feeling that we are friends now." He said with relish. For a young man on the oust of a small social pool, he may very well enjoy such a development.

Jasper's shoulder's relaxed, he leaned back in his chair with some candour in his manner that did not belie amiability, but a slight impatience and assuredness not that he was in the presence of a friend, but an inferior. "What do you want?"

Edward's own posture became very stiff in response. "To give an apology." He all but sneered. "I have failed in my duty as a mailman. Perhaps I should find another profession, this one suits me ill …." Edward muses, flicking lint from his jacket. He glances up at Jasper's sardonic expression and scowled.

"I read your letters to Miss Mary." He says in a rush. "I don't see what's so wrong with it – they weren't very engaging at all."

There was a beat of silence, Edward eyeing Jasper with caution, and Jasper's steady half-clear gaze.

Jasper huffs out a breath of air and swings himself forward again, with a fluidity of his movement that hinted at a sure physicality. "Your nosiness concerns me not." He tells the other man, and Edward's expression does not lighten at the acceptance. Jasper's voice was harsh. "You're a gossip with no one listening, you are a near full-grown man still in need of a guardian. Edward, if I considered us equals you would have my ire, but fortunately I will not blame a boy." Jasper's face and tone became mocking, and at the end he begins to smile, and the unruined side of his side is almost handsome for his falseness.

As Jasper had spoken each jab, Edward's face flushed a brighter and more vivid red, and he stands quickly, the chair clattering noisily. "I see! Well then I should thank you sincerely for your condescension!" Edward hisses. "I shall leave you with your new wife; I too hope you can one day be as comfortable with her as a dear friend would be." The last words were bitten out as Edward grabbed up his hat and stormed towards the door.

"Good night to you too, Teddy!" Jasper called out cheerfully.

As soon as the door was slammed shut, he let the smile drop from his face. Though the piano-teacher-cum-mail-man was only a scant few years younger than he; the man was ferociously intuitive in a way that unnerved most people. But Jasper was usually much milder with him; he had lied, Edward's violation angered with greatly. Jasper was also extremely unhappy that Edward had seen through him too.

Seeing the two of them sitting and chatting like anything, had made Jasper boyishly, irrationally jealous. It was the exact nature he had wished to have with his future companion. He knew no woman would ever see him as anything but a monster, it was as The Poet said; war is hell, making demons of men.

He had hoped, had planned on striving for friendship. To live as cousins with a woman, who would gain the protection and freedom of a married lady, in return for keeping things in order in the house and occupying the space Jasper had begun to loathe.

Instead … he had a very unflinching actress. Little Mary-A was all too ready to pretend to love him. She was so deft at it; even Jasper, who was usually easily able to observe people's reactions, wasn't able to glean her first true reaction to his face.

It had been almost gratifying, at first. Jasper was flattered that the little woman wanted so much to be polite. He had planned, at the first sign of her faltering, to assure her that he was all understanding.

But the plan had not come to fruition at all. Alice never faltered. She perked up when he entered a room, she wandered over to peer at his activities, she was doting and bashful when she wasn't endearingly brash.

Jasper could barely stand it. Worse, he was unable to address it; for to call attention to her conduct would only make it awkward between them. It seemed villainous, to him, to force her drop her act and simply be frightened of him because her efforts were for naught.

She was obvious trying hard to be pleasing, and Jasper wasn't going to be acrimonious. He would simply have to keep his own wits about him; he had to set the situation with calm felicity and give her time to settle in and mirror him.

The door to the workroom opened, breaking Jasper out of his musings as Alice returned, glancing about the room. "I was hoping to have a parting word! Commissioning trousers and running off!" She huffed at Edward's disappearance. "But I'll not complain of getting you to myself." Alice's eyes rested on him and she sat next to him and beamed.

Jasper shifted away slightly. "Your first commission here, how very good." He told her candidly. He watched her coy thanks with careful solemnity. It would be too easy, if he allowed, to bolster himself with Alice's performance; to respond and encourage her and fool himself. But that would make him the biggest villain of all; to trap the poor woman into this love charade and blind himself in the process.

He watched her as she busted about, getting supper started and humming some little tune from the radio show she enjoyed. He had to keep a close eye on her, because her overt acceptance of their circumstance told him all he needed to know. Whatever she had left, wherever she was from, must have been so horrid, so vile, that playing wife to a freak was preferable.

Jasper couldn't be easy until he found it out. It almost led him to cruelty, to tell her that this was no French fairy-tale; no true love's kiss would reveal a handsomer husband.


Jasper's got trust issues and I forgot who The Poet he quotes is. He and Edward usually fare much better.