Thank you for reading, reviewing, questioning, theorizing...You are the best readers ever!
A big thank you to 2old4fanfic for sending a bunch of new readers in my direction. Welcome, new readers!
LovePotionsBrewer is my ever-patient beta. She makes this story so much better.
Chapter-9
(Present)
The day passes like any other day, and yet like no other.
I have been Lady Isabella Masen ever since I married Anthony, and the title remains the same after getting married to Edward. And yet everything is different.
As I go through my tasks of the day, such as checking the household records and paying the kitchen a visit with Mrs. Stanley, I keep on trying to figure out exactly what has changed. It is only when I pay my daily visit to Lizzie that I realise what has been in front of my eyes all the day.
The household is lighter somehow. There is a feeling of relief in the air, if not open cheeriness. The maids seem to be stepping more lightly, the footmen have been whistling cheerily, and the cook was actually clapping her hands and singing—a most uncommon occurrence in the kitchen. Does having a master to look up to again matter so much to them?
Of course the months since Anthony's demise have been particularly sombre. Still, I can't remember the last occasion when the atmosphere in the mansion has been this festive. Even when we had guests for a visit or the Christmas Ball, there was a certain formality with the proceedings, and the conversations around were bright but cold at the same time. The servants were kept so busy that they probably had no time to enjoy the goings-on. But today, a relatively normal day, they seem to be bursting with good cheer.
Why this realisation dawns upon me at the precise moment I enter my daughter's room, I can't say. All I know is that as soon as I see Lizzie's smiling little face, everything comes together and I know that Edward's return to the Masen Estate has made things better for everybody concerned.
Lizzie comes running, and I sweep her up in my arms and fill my senses with her—her sight, her smell and her soft warmth. With this little girl in my arms, I feel complete. Content.
She warbles sweetly, telling me that I looked pretty the day before and she liked having breakfast with all the big people, while I try to come to terms with the fact that it has been only a day since I got married again. Somehow, it seems longer.
"Should I call Uncle Edward Father now?"
The question jolts me back from my daydreaming. "What did you say, dear?" I ask, even though I am pretty sure of her question.
Patiently and sweetly, she repeats her question, but I still have no answer for her.
"Uhh…" I look around as if expecting someone to provide me the answer.
There is no protocol regarding this that I know of. Some children do address their stepfather as father or papa, but there are noblemen who prefer a more formal sir or your lordship.
"Why don't you ask your uncle what he would like, darling?" says Maggie. I smile at her with gratitude.
After confirming with me that it would be all right to ask Edward, Lizzie skips off to play with her dolls.
"His Lordship is very affectionate towards Miss Lizzie, my lady," remarks Maggie. "I am sure Miss Lizzie will not lack a father now that he is here."
I nod in agreement, even as a part of my heart argues that it should not be this easy for Lizzie to replace Anthony. I know that she was attached to him. How can she forget him so quickly? He will always remain her real father!
On the other hand, how can I not wish that she has a father's love and protection in her life? That would not be fair to her.
After a few minutes I kiss Lizzie on her cheeks and take my leave. I want to take a stroll in the garden, maybe go to the stable and talk with Rosalie. I have been neglecting her since Anthony's death turned my world upside down.
Yes, just like Edward talks with his horse, I talk with my mare. Well, I don't know if he does that still. It has been a long time since I last saw him petting Emmett, just before leaving. When he had announced to me that he was leaving for the continent, his face had been expressionless. But when I spied him shedding tears with his arms around Emmett's neck, I knew that he was not unaffected.
If he had not taken Emmett with him, I might have imagined that his grief was caused by the imminent separation from his horse.
As I had thought, Rosalie seems displeased with me. She keeps on turning her head away when I pat her. I apologise again and again, telling her what has been going on in my life. It takes at least half an hour for her to forgive me and accept a carrot from my hand.
I take her for a canter, and by the end of the ride she seems to have completely forgotten my misdemeanour. If only human beings could forgive and forget so easily!
After promising her that I will visit her regularly, I return to my room. I wash my face and arms and change my riding habit for another, more formal dress. Alice makes sure that my hair looks nice, and then leaves for the kitchen.
Dinner is less quiet than last evening, James being in a chatty mood in spite of Edward subtly plying him with wine. In fact, the alcohol only leads to his comments becoming more obnoxious. Perhaps it takes him a while to get into that somnolent state he was in last evening.
Towards the end of the meal, after he has lectured us on how to run a household and bring up children in the correct way, he says something that doesn't make any sense to me.
"Spare the rod and spoil the child, Edward. The only way to raise a well-behaved child is to punish him frequently. Mark my words, if I hadn't thrashed out your proclivity at fourteen, you would still be a gentleman of the back door. Even more probable, you would have gone to prison for being queer." He took another gulp of wine, his hand shaking a little. "Isabella, you should thank me for providing you with another fine husband. But for me, he would have been burnt at the stake for sodding some unsuspecting fellow. Now he is a real man, able to bed his wife and make her fruitful. I know it has only been one night—"
I will never know what James was going to say, for Edward slams his fist hard upon the table. The dessert plates rattle, the candelabra shakes and the remaining wine in James' glass ends up on his pristine white shirt.
"Enough!" Edward does not raise his voice, but his tone is deadly. "You are a guest here James, and you will respect me and my wife if you wish to remain so. In fact, you have already outlived your welcome. Ask your valet to pack your things, for you are leaving tomorrow morning. Now if you will excuse us, we are going to retire for the night."
Edward takes my arm and marches me to my room, leaving a red-faced James behind spluttering with indignation. I doubt if he has been treated this rudely by anybody in his whole life. It is a good thing that all the knives and forks have been removed from the table, or he might have thrown one at Edward. There are only dessert spoons remaining, and I doubt they can do much damage.
Inside my room, Edward lets go of my arm and begins to pace to the window and back to the door much like a caged tiger. I sit on my bed, my eyes following his movement. His colour is high and he is muttering to himself through clenched teeth. Honestly, he is scaring me a little.
"Why did I return from France?" he grumbles. "It would have been much better to live there, among friends. Coming back was a mistake!"
As much as I had convinced myself that Edward had returned only for the sake of the estate and the title, his words break my heart. Yes, he is angry with James, not with me. But it is clear that I mean nothing to him, that all the sweet words he spoke to me last night were just that; empty words. A loud sob escapes my throat even as I try to stifle it by placing my hand over my mouth. There is no stopping the tears that flow from my eyes either.
Edward stops pacing abruptly and stares at me. The next moment he is beside me on the bed, and his arms surround me as he pulls me to his chest.
"Bella, sweetheart, I am so sorry," he says as his hand strokes my back, trying to comfort me, I suppose. "I wanted to tell you—I would have told you everything in time. Please believe me, James is wrong. I love you and only you. Please don't cry. I can't see you crying!"
I do stop, but only because I am confused. What is he speaking of?
"What do you mean?" I ask, wiping my tears with a handkerchief and sniffling. He frowns slightly. "What did James mean anyway?"
"You don't know?" He looks puzzled now. "Then why were you crying?"
I twist my hands together. "Because you said that coming back here was a mistake, and that you should have stayed in France." A couple of tears make their way down my cheeks, and Edward gently wipes them, shaking his head. "You don't want to be with me, do you? You married me only because James asked you to."
He looks at me as if I had grown two heads. "Bella, you are the only reason I came back. Even if James had not asked me, I would have returned to you, to see if I could win you back. How can you think that I don't want you? Didn't I make it clear last night that I love you?"
"But you just said that—"
He smacks his forehead. "Oh, that was because of James. I meant that instead of accepting his offer, I should have approached you independently. I would have given you more time, of course, and after getting married we would have gone back to France. I have enough money of my own, Bella. I don't need the title or the property that comes with it to keep you as you are accustomed to. Maybe I could not have purchased a mansion, but—"
I silenced his rambling by putting a finger on his lips. "I don't need a mansion to be happy, Edward. Have you forgotten that my father is only a gentleman farmer? I was quite content under his roof. I would have been happy with you if I had been sure that you had married me for myself and not for being Lady Isabella."
He is shaking his head, a small smile on his lips. "I can assure you that I have no interest in being a lord. I accepted James' proposal for two reasons. One, because I was afraid he would find someone else for you before I had a chance to win you. I wasn't sure if you would wait for me. We didn't part on the best of terms, after all." He paused, the saddest of expressions crossing his face.
"And the second?" I asked softly.
He sighed. "I wasn't sure if you would agree to come to France with me. It is a major change, and your whole family is here. I thought I could do something similar here once I was comfortable running the estate. There is the Royal Ascot, and thoroughbred horses are required by many who are a regular at those races. James disagrees, of course. He thinks it is beneath a lord to earn money by breeding and training horses."
The morning's tense atmosphere suddenly makes sense to me. "Was that why he was glaring at you when I went in for breakfast?"
He takes my hands in his warm, strong ones. It is such a comforting feeling. "Yes, but don't worry. He can't stop me from doing anything. He may have thought I would be his puppet, like Anthony, but I have my own mind and will make my own decisions. He won't be running my life—our life—any longer."
As reassuring his statement is, it causes my forehead to wrinkle in thought. "Why do you think Anthony was his puppet? I know he deferred to James in some things, but that was because James had more experience than him. I may not know what is entailed in running an estate, but I do know that Anthony managed everything perfectly well. You must have heard the people of the village praising him for being considerate to their needs, haven't you?"
Edward half laughs and half huffs, his thumbs caressing my palms. It makes me feel as if tingles are racing from where he is touching me to my shoulders, maybe even to my stomach.
"Anthony was scared of his father, Bella. I have no doubt that he was managed the estate well and was good to the people, but that does not mean that…Anyway, I was talking about his life, not his managing skills. And I am not blaming Anthony. I was scared of James too. You don't know what a tyrant he was while growing up. Everything had to done exactly as he wanted, or there were consequences…"
He trails off, gazing somewhere in the distance. My mind goes back to the strange expressions James had used at the dinner table.
"So when he said that he thrashed your proclivity out of you, he meant that he beat you because you had done something wrong?"
He nods. The pressure of his hands on mine increases.
"Edward," I ask slowly, dreading the answer because I am sure I won't like the answer, "What did he mean by a gentleman of the back door? And why would you have gone to the prison if he had not beaten you?"
A.N. It has come to my notice that many readers are having difficulty in finding the contests I mentioned. So I am posting the links for all of them.
u/6939774/Age-of-Edward-Contest
u/6846034/ControlPossessSeduceContest
u/7375027/Straight-thru-the-Heart-Fics
u/7381264/cheaterscontest
If you are interested in participating in any of them, now is the time!
If you simply wish to read them, put them on alert.
Voting for Age of Edward is still open, so please go over, read the stories and review. Don't worry about which is mine, just show some love to the authors!
Thank you!