Hi, how are you guys? Good? Great! I love this story. This Chapter is dedicated to ilovecarlisle, who gave me the great idea for this chapter. Hope you like it, thanks for the support, to everyone who's favorited and reviewed and alerted. : ) I tried to put romance in this chapter . . . tell me how I did!

Bella

The next day was Friday. I was helping Alice today and I was half glad for the escape. It was strange—part of me didn't want to see Master Edward, mostly because my strange obsession—and maybe love—tore down my defensive walls, and a much larger part of me wanted to see him every day, just to spend my time with him. Of course, maybe I was being greedy—how many times had I run into Master Edward in the garden and had conversations with him? And how long had I been in his room yesterday, dragging out the conversation by asking curious questions that conveniently came to mind? The answers that came to mind proved my mind's point, and I frowned. I couldn't deny that I wanted to be with him this very day—that was too obvious to hide.

I went to Alice's room after I took a bath and got dressed, spirits down. I tried to remind myself that there was possibility that I would see him again today—there was always the chance that he'd be in the garden while I was there. That made me smile, and my insides churn with confusion. What had caused the very sudden change of spirits towards Master Edward and my obvious—too much for my liking, did he see it? I hoped not—attraction towards him, as well as the longing to talk to him every day, just to be near him. I didn't know what had brought on the sudden twist, and to tell the truth, if I was, I didn't much care.

Alice was beaming when I walked in. I knew she wanted to dress me up again—and I didn't protest. Alice always got her way with these sort of things. She was holding a long maroon dress for me to try on. I groaned.

"Come on Bella, please! This one is too big for me anyway—so it's perfect for you, isn't it? Besides, I need to see how it fits so you can wear it on our trip to the market! You're going to love it, anyway."

"How would you know?" I muttered, meaning it as rhetorical, but she looked very suddenly as if she'd made a slip.

"Well, because I just thought you'd like maroon . . .," she mumbled, quickly changing the subject with her next enthuse.

"Well, go try it on! And then after that I have another dress for you . . ." I moaned, but quickly left the room before she could mention anything else about me trying on something. I loved the clothes Alice gave me—they just looked out of place on someone like me. They didn't look bad on my, physically, but they did look bad on a maid. After I tried the dress (which fit perfectly) on, I went back to Alice's room and looked in the mirror. The dress was better than I'd first observed—gold silk lace lined the edges of the long sleeves and the collar, tied in bows. There was a thin chiffon petticoat with no bodice—I asked Alice about that, and she said that she didn't want to overdress me because it was usually hot here. I nodded, wondering why I hadn't considered that myself.

After she made sure that the dress fit me, she picked out another dress, a white dress with a bow on one strap. The edges were black, and the skirt had two bows on the bottom edge. It looked to clean for me to wear, and maybe Alice might have caught that in my face, because she sighed and began to explain in a voice that made it sound as if she were speaking to a very small child. Which, in intelligence, I barely rivaled.

"It's not for right now Bella. It's not even for the workday at all. It's a nightdress for you to sleep in—and I made it simple, no ruffles or thick lace or petticoats or long sleeves. The fabric is thick, though—it'll last longer. Do you like it?"

"Sure, I love it." And I did. "But where did you get it?"

"Huh? Oh—uh, I had our seamstress make it for you," she explained, and I again wondered why I hadn't considered that myself.

"I didn't know you had a seamstress," I commented, realizing that I'd never gone into the sewing room before—it wasn't part of the area on my schedule that I had to clean—so I hadn't ever gotten the chance to really see one. I went into the bathroom and tried it on, and when I turned back to the door Josie was standing there with a medium toned, dark brown haired girl that I didn't recognize. She didn't resemble Courtney in more than skin tone or eye color—she was shorter, and more delicate looking. I could only guess that she was Catherine, the faceless girl whose name I'd read on the bathtub; she was wearing a maid uniform like Josie was wearing, and like the one I was not at the moment.

"Bella. Nice to see you. This is Catherine by the way," Catherine shook my hand, smiling a bit. "How are you? Oh—that's a nice dress. Where did you get it?"

"Lady Alice gave it to me." I said honestly, blushing. Surely everyone noticed how Alice was always giving me clothes and dresses—she favored me, I realized, as a friend. I didn't know why, but I didn't protest, because Alice was such a nice, bubbly sort of person. Josie didn't really seem that envious; I imagined that someone as quiet and reserved as she was probably wouldn't get along well with someone enthusiastic and chatty, like Alice.

"Wow—really, you must have done something to get on her good side. You're her favorite—and Master Edward's." I was surprised, and didn't hesitate to show it.

"I don't think so—I didn't know that I was his favorite."

"How could you not? He always looks at you—I work around almost the same schedule, and I see Master Edward staring at you most of the time. I swear, it's like his eyes are connected to you." She laughed a little, then waved and went off with Catherine. I thought for a moment, shook my head, then went back to Alice's room.

"What took so long?" She demanded, then listened to my relay of the conversation. I omitted the part about me being Master Edward's favorite, though I thought that Alice might get as much of a kick out of that as I did. After Alice was sure that the dress fit me perfectly, she let me change back into work clothes (with a frown on her face; no doubt she wanted to ignore my protests and give me another dress). She hung the maroon dress back in the wardrobe for me to wear on the day of our outing to the market, and the white dress was sent with me. I made a quick run to the group bedroom and placed it under the covers to pull out later. After that it was lunch time. Buzz about Earl Manning's death hadn't faded—and neither had the assumption that I would replace him as Master Edward's personal maid. I always shook my head, sure it wouldn't happen. If Master Edward was really so intent on me stepping into Earl's position, then he'd have asked me this morning. I told them that, and they laughed.

"Master Edward hasn't been in all day—he's been running around in town with his father, making the funeral arrangements, so he couldn't have told you this morning. I saw them leave—they'll probably be back near evening," Courtney told me. I restrained a smile. Secretly even to myself, I was hoping that I would replace Earl, just for the opportunity to see Master Edward more during the day. And that, was very, very stupid. But of course, I didn't stop myself from dancing around inside.

Night seemed to approach quickly, too quickly. I stayed up later with the other girls—I had missed out on much of the late night chatter, and I now listened to it. It turned out that the late night chatter was actually more like giggling—everyone teased about who snored loudly or who had trouble waking up (mainly me) or who talked in their sleep (me again). I asked Josie what I said in my sleep, knowing that she wouldn't tease me about it or laugh at me.

"Well, you go to bed early most nights—so we hear a bit of it. You said something about Lady Alice last night, and once our names, and then something about a doctor, and then after that you mostly said things about Master Edward—you say his name a lot. We sleep after that, so we're not sure if you say anything else." I nodded, blushing. If I said his name in my sleep so much, then they knew how obsessed with him I was. Darn the dreams—in a world of subconscious, where everything that I hid from myself or didn't quite know consciously were laid out, everything was exposed. It was lucky that Master Edward would never hear—imagine the awkwardness between us if he knew of my hopeless addiction to him!

Sleep didn't come so easily that night. I tossed and turned, trying to ignore the itching pressure in the low of my navel that I knew meant that I needed to go to the bathroom. Worse, I needed to go to the bathroom and I was thirsty. Now I wished I'd had gone to the bathroom earlier, when I'd been changing into the nightdress Alice had given me. I was torn now—Alice made it specific that lights were to be out, everyone in their rooms by 10:00, and I didn't want to break a rule . . . but I also didn't to ruin the dress and the sheets.

I struggled against it, trying to force it back. I found that it increased if I lied a certain way, and so I had to keep off my sides and stomach, making me uncomfortable. I never really slept on my back, and it was awkward for me doing so now. I struggled with the covers that seemed to be tying me down with their sudden weight, and swallowed constantly against the itchiness of my throat. Nothing helped. I was still longing to go to the bathroom, and my throat still screamed for the thirst to be relieved.

I finally gave up, reasoning that it wouldn't take long. I would walk as quickly as possible and try not to linger in the bathroom. I got up as quietly as possible for someone as uncoordinated as I, then tip-toed to the door and opened it softly, wincing at the slight creak it made. I slipped out, tip-toeing down the hall. There were windows lining the right wall in the wide space between each door—there was a system, two windows between the space where the doors disappeared and wall took over—and squares of soft, dim light from the oval moon flowed down to the wooden floor. Dark shadows were left between each square, and I always knew when a square was coming up, because my toes would tickle a brightening in the darkness before stepping right into a patch of light.

It wasn't long before I was into the bathroom. I relieved my bladder, washed my hands in a sink, and then cupped my hands together for water. I drank it quickly, before water could get away from me, and was surprised at the cool, iciness of it. Water from a sink or basin was usually tainted with chemicals, but this tasted much cleaner. I smiled, knowing that I should have expected it. Wasn't everything in the Cullens' mansion top in quality?

When I stepped back into the hallway, a darkness billowed near the middle of the hallway. Only when a figure stepped full into the light did I see who it was—and then did I wish I'd stayed in my room after all. Lady Rosalie stood there—and she looked as aware of me as I did of her. She was wearing a long night dress and a glare. I was embarrassed—and also full of dread. No doubt that I'd get in trouble now. And it was worse because Lady Rosalie had caught me; she hated me for whatever reason and therefore would make things harder for me. Pity that Master Edward was not in her place right now.

"What are you doing outside of your room? That's the problem with you, you never listen or take hints! What don't you get about it? No one is supposed to be out of their room after 10:00, and it's 11:05 right now! Come to think of it, I have something else that angers me. Master Edward follows you around like you're something worthy of it—and you're not, not at all. You're an ugly, skinny little slave, and you always will be. No one wants you—isn't it obvious? Your own family would rather have you here than with them! No wonder, they couldn't stand to look at your face!" She spat, and I stumbled back, away from her cruel eyes and her leering smile.

I was fighting back tears. It wasn't like It's not like you haven't heard this a million times before, I reminded myself, but still a part of me knew it was true. When other mistresses or masters had said this, I hadn't been affected—because they were just as ugly, and almost as poor as I was. But coming from someone beautiful, someone who had an education, who was rich, I realized how true I was. How little I was worth. Did anyone care? No. Alice cared, I told myself, but as far as I could see, she might be the only one. It broke my heart to think of Master Edward now—because I knew that he knew that it was just as true. I was worth nothing, and always would be. He saw that. Of course he did.

"Oh, is the little baby trying not to cry? Ha ha, you should. You're filthy, and maybe the tears might wash some of the dirt away."She began to laugh, and I felt myself being crushed. I wanted to run—to break down by myself, or at least in front of supportive eyes, not in front of someone who hated me, who'd continue to kick me in cruelty while I cried.

A sharp growling sound pierced the air, grouped with the electricity that flowed between myself and a certain person. Rosalie's head snapped up, and I was glad for the distraction. I sat on the ground, rolled into a ball, and scooted into the shadows, hoping they would conceal me. I heard talking—and I recognized the voice all too well.

"What are you doing now Rosalie? Torturing someone else? Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you have to force your pain on others. We get it Rosalie, you're angry. Do you want to say it some more? Because if you do, then you'll be saying it to me—not to a completely innocent girl who has no way to defend herself. Really Rosalie, are you really so much better than the monsters who took your happiness away?" She flinched, and I heard something that sounded like a satisfied "humph".

"The rules only specify that lights must be out at ten o clock. Then again, if you actually bothered to use that pretty, conceited little head of yours for more than thinking of yourself and judging others, you'd know that." She glared, but I saw something—very briefly—in her eyes. A flicker of pain. I was so happy—it was wrong to feel glad at someone else's pain, but oh I was now. She tasted just a teaspoon of my pain, and I hoped it tasted bitter.

"Oh and, by the way, if you ever care to mess with Bella again, then you'll be answering to me . . . and so will Emmett. I'm sure that it won't be hard to deflect him. After all, I have people to back me up on this—and Jasper will most likely side with Alice for this one. Think about that." I wondered why he was making physical threats for protecting me, and I was also displeased that he'd seen me after all. I had wanted to be hidden—and I had wanted it more when I'd heard Master Edward's voice. How much had he heard? How much did he agree with? I watched Rosalie disappear down the hallway, shoulders slumped, and I stood up, attempting to make an escape, when Master Edward called to me. I turned back, hoping that it would be brief—I wanted nothing more than to hide right now.

"Bella. I want to apologize for Rosalie—her behavior was inexcusable. And . . . if you don't mind me asking, I'd like to wonder why you were up?" I winced. I was in trouble after all—and how embarrassing that I was admitting to Master Edward, after all. Hadn't I wished this on myself? I had wished that Master Edward was there instead of Rosalie, except I got half of what I wanted.

"You're not in trouble—I was just curious." He flashed a smile, and I told him, timidly.

"Well, I couldn't sleep. I had to go to the bathroom—and I was thirsty."

"I couldn't sleep either—I was just going to see Alice when I heard Rosalie—and saw her tormenting you." His jaw clenched, and I could tell that he was angry about that—why, I didn't know. It wasn't like I wasn't used to it by now. I'd been through it for about 14 years of my life.

"It's fine." I could tell he wanted to protest, but instead he said something else.

"Do you want to take a walk with me?" I was surprised at the question but didn't protest, smiling at him and telling him that I'd love to. I let him lead me down the hallway. Every few seconds his eyes would return to my face, and I was sure that the blush staining my cheeks gave away, painfully conspicuously, my self consciousness. I now wished that the dress was longer—wasn't it inappropriate to wear sleepwear above the knee around a male master? But there was nothing that I could do about that. At least I was reasonably clean.

The downstairs of the house was strangely quiet and dark, shadows hanging over the elegant furniture. It made the place look haunted, or abandoned, or both. When we stepped outside, moonlight shone down, making his eyes sparkle in strange ways. I was suddenly aware that I had no idea where we were going to walk.

"Where are we walking, exactly?"

"Would you like to walk in the garden? It's not that cold." He didn't seem patient for an answer, instead he led me into the garden, where we began to amble around. The leaves whistled and howled in the wind, and grass and spare petals and leaves fluttered near the ground. Insects chirped, and nocturnal animals were making their calls—they were sounds very much like the ones I'd been listening to nights ago to lull me asleep, and that comforted me. The dark outline of the trees shook, and stars began to glitter in the sky, getting comfortable for their long night shift. The scent of the flowers wafted around us, and small insects that were late getting to bed began to scurry to their homes. It was wonderful, but dulled compared to the man standing next to me.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, breaking the stillness with a voice so soft it was part of the quietness itself.

"Yes. Don't the stars remind you of little soldiers taking night shifts?" He seemed to think of that, then smiled.

"I never really thought of the stars before this. It's harder to think of them now, when you're standing next to me." He turned to me and grinned — almost lovingly, I noted — and then lifted his hand, so reluctantly, to hold mine. I was shocked at the sudden contact, and indulged in the electricity that sped between us. The sensation removed the pain that never seemed to register until it was gone.

"Thank you. I know you're just saying that, though. I'm a servant—nothing special."

"You don't see yourself clearly," he commented, and I blushed—and smiled. If he could say it, he thought it, right? That was what other people in my life did—they said exactly what they thought. What chance was there that he wasn't like that as well? If he didn't think what he said, then he wouldn't be on this walk with me right now.

"Master Edward—"

"Won't you call me Edward? Master Edward . . . makes me feel like your warden, or your captor. I could be called both, couldn't I?" he mused, then went on as if he hadn't meant for me to answer." But I don't want to be either of those."

"Well . . . Edward," saying his first name with no other formal address tacked on to it sent a thrill through me, and I couldn't help it. I loved it. I wondered what he thought about it? I wished that I could read minds. Then I could settle once and for all what he thought of me—could finally see if it was worth obsessing over him.

"I'm really flattered. But still . . . I'm nothing compared to Rosalie, am I?"

"Compared to Rosalie, you are an angel—and you are much above her. Even if you weren't beautiful on the outside—and you are, ask anyone—then you'd still pass her with your beauty on the inside. It makes you glow . . . or maybe it's the moonlight, glinting off your skin. That dress is pretty, by the way . . ."

"Thank you. That's really . . . wonderful of you, to be so nice to me."

"Shouldn't everyone? Be nice to other people, I mean."

". . . not according to their standards . . .," I answered, hoping he'd change the subject. No, the world was not nice—wouldn't I know all too well?

Edward

She said the last words in a strange tone, as if she knew that by firsthand experience. I could imagine she did. Would it be prying to ask if the encounter with Rosalie earlier made her suffer more than she was letting on?

"So, you and Alice are going on to the market in a fortnight?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yes—she insists on it. She even made me try on a dress to wear for that. This—" she indicated the dress she wore now "is just a gift, a nightdress."

"Alice has finally relented to dresses without fancy additions, I see. I like it."

"Thank you. Can I ask you a question?" She looked hesitant, and I nodded, squeezing her hand very slightly, not letting my strength win, The warmth was invigorating—I wondered how it might feel to lean down and kiss her?

"Why is your family . . . so nice. I mean, why is most of your family?" Her thoughts seemed to be on Rosalie as well. I paused, then tried to explain, carefully wording my answer.

"Well . . . we try, to help others. We think that it's wrong to let slavery determine how we treat others. We don't want to be like other people, who use their wealth to buy many slaves and then treat them like dogs. Why did you ask?"

"So you're an abolitionist," she said, avoiding my question. I nodded, trying not to feel frustration at not being able to read her mind.

"Yes—the whole family is, even if you can't tell." She laughed a little, and her eyes, like mine, drifted to the sky, The moon was high, stars out, signaling midnight. She turned back to me, eyes apologetic.

"I'm sorry—it's late. I didn't realize . . .," she murmured, seeming to wander in thought.

"No, it's okay. We should head back now anyway. The forest is coming up, and I suppose you wouldn't want to wander around there in the dark?"

"No, I wouldn't." We laughed some more, and I marveled at how melodic her voice sounded, almost like a gentle lullaby. I liked the thought of it, her voice singing a lullaby. I wondered if she was a good singer? We began to head back to the house, much to my regret. I wanted to stay and talk—to have conversations with her where she didn't hide herself behind her walls, where she wasn't so mechanically polite. I wondered if we'd ever get a chance to do this again? Would this all only be a dim memory tomorrow, a slight picture that seemed so much like just an imagining?

On our way back, I got an idea. I took a rose and placed it in her hair, hoping that she'd keep it on so that I'd see it tomorrow—then I'd have prove that this had been real. She seemed to enjoy the rose as much as I did, and that reminded me that I still needed to pick that bouquet I promised myself I'd give her. I'd need to have Esme's permission, of course, but that would be easy to get.

I allowed her to separate her hand from mine when we were back at the house, instantly longing for the return of the warmth. She disappeared upstairs, and then I was alone. I was restless, and my thoughts didn't stray from her all night. I did something I felt intensely guilty for later—I went into the group room an hour later, when I was sure she was asleep, and knelt by her bed, watching her. It was such an invasion—and so dangerous if someone saw me or if she woke up. But I took the risk, watching her sleep—and hearing her talk. Saying my name. I smiled, satisfied that I was in her dreams. I listened until the morning sun approached, appreciating the chance to glimpse into her mind.

When morning came, I kissed her hair (very, very softly and briefly) and then went away before she got up, anticipating the day ahead—I would see her again.

And that was enough to ask for.

So what did you think? Did I add too much romance? Were things rushed? Please review and tell me what you think! Thank you once again to ilovecarlisle, who this chapter is dedicated to, for giving me the wonderful idea. : ) I look forward to your feedback!