Chapter Twelve

Bella woke up around seven after a record three hours and a half of sleep. She groaned when she sat up in bed and felt her head hurt – too much damned wine. Way, way too much of it…

She scrambled to the suitcase for painkillers, before going to the bathroom and taking a cold shower to revive herself a bit.

"I'm never drinking again," she mumbled as the water spray beat into her flesh mercilessly. "I get way too talkative when drunk," she continued, saying it to no-one in particular, before leaning her forehead on the slippery tiled wall. She couldn't think of a single occasion of her getting drunk that she didn't regret. Not a single one.

Bella furrowed her brow, wondering what idiocies she had done at that party, looking for things to add to her wall of shame. But no, she had only drunk one glass of wine at Professor Volturi's. She remembered talking to Dr. Denali, which was probably what drove her to drink in the first place, or perhaps it had been the fight with Edward…

Her eyes snapped open and she nearly tumbled on the ground. Edward. She had fought with Edward. They had yelled at each other, calling themselves names and all sorts of uncivilized things… and then, then… then she couldn't sleep and had gone down to the library, looking for something to read… Edward had found her there and they had talked like nothing had happened… of almost… and then more wine…

Bella sank to her knees and covered her mouth with her hand. God, what had that man poured in her wine? She had babbled like a seventh-grader in front of a crush. Worse, he had let her babble. And then, when he had helped carry her to her room, she had all but sexually propositioned to him. Wearing her oldest pajamas and pink bunny slippers no less. She wished the ground would swallow her whole.

Edward hadn't seemed much put off by her pathetic display, even going as far as to promise he would take her up on it later. Had he been serious? Would he remember anything when he woke up? Would he laugh it off as a drunken rambling or just add her verbal diarrhea to the list of her many flaws?

The questions didn't help her headache at all.

Finally, after indulging in her panic attack for enough time, she scrambled to her feet and set on getting ready for the day, although she wished for nothing else but to spend the rest of her life in the bathtub. She dried and combed her hair meticulously, tied it back, put on a comfortable skirt and a blouse with short sleeves, all the while wondering how to act. Nonchalance was probably best, although she wasn't sure if he would like it so much. Hadn't he told her she looked like a cold schoolteacher? Perhaps she had to smile more, and be pleasant. She could do pleasant. Plenty of it.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen, how did you sleep," she said, trying out the phrase, and rejected it immediately. "No, he wanted me to call him Edward. Hello, Edward, how did you sleep… no, how was your night… Oh, God, I am a schoolteacher!"

Despairing, she picked up her glasses and stared at her reflection. She looked sullen and uneasy. In a sudden fit of inspiration, she rummaged her small bag of toiletries and retrieved whatever cosmetic products she had. As well as she could without contacts, she covered up the dark circles under her eyes and the greenish tint to her face, and put some pink lipstick for color. Slightly better, she decided and walked down.

Edward wasn't in the dining room, library, or any other place she usually saw him in the morning. It took her a while to realize that he, unlike her, wasn't an insomniac, and that his body would need its seven hours of sleep. Resigned, and slightly relieved, she walked to the kitchen where she found Mrs. Cope elbows deep into the preparation of yet another enormous feast.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cope. How are you today?" Bella greeted pleasantly.

"Good morning, Dr. Swan, I'm fine," she said, not looking up from her task. "There's tea in the pot, if you like. Coffee's in the drawer over there, if you want one."

"Thank you," Bella said, maneuvering over the large table and picking up the packet of coffee, only to realize it was no more than roasted beans. "Um, Mrs. Cope…"

"You can brew it over there." She cocked her head. "Mr. Edward usually drinks tea, so I only keep beans around for guests."

"I see," Bella said and watched Mrs. Cope pull out a sheet of cookies from the over and then load it with muffins. She was curious, of course, as to why the god woman always cooked so much, but of course, that question was probably fated to remain in the grid under 'unanswered'. "Mr. Cullen has quite some appetite…"

"Oh, yes, especially after a wild night," Mrs. Cope said with a suggestive wriggle of her eyebrows. It made her pause what she was doing and look over to the housekeeper.

"Really?" she asked, hoping that she sounded completely disinterested.

"Oh, yes. His lady guest left half an hour ago, but he's still upstairs, sleeping," Mrs. Cope said.

"You seem sure of it," Bella mumbled.

"I always like to get up early." The housekeeper smiled brightly. "And even if I hadn't seen the car tracks, the other evidence was everywhere. There were two wine glasses in the library and his bedroom was a raging mess when I arrived to help him clean up. They'd broken an old vase in their vigor…" Mrs. Cope tsked disapprovingly. "Young people never stop to consider. That was an old antique, left behind by Mrs. Cullen's mother. I bet Mr. Edward would have to pay a fortune to get it repaired, as well as the windows upstairs."

The woman shook her head, while Bella's heart sank. The wine glasses, she knew, had been left by Edward and herself, but she hadn't stepped even close to his room, so she was sure she hadn't been the perpetrator for the mess. Or maybe she was? She wasn't entirely sure.

"You're shocked, I suppose, that you haven't heard it?" Mrs. Cope asked, mistaking her silence for astonishment. "I know, my dear, I was a little frazzled myself when I came here some four years ago, but I got used to it quite quickly. These great men can be very sudden and rash in their whims, and a good servant needs to keep quiet."

"I'm just a little surprised. You've only been his housekeeper for four years?"

"Oh, yes, came after I got fired from my old job. He was kind enough to take me in, even if I'm close to the retirement age myself," Mrs. Cope said. "That's why I'm so grateful to Mr. Edward, he gave me a chance, and so I decided not to pay attention to his promiscuous ways. One gets used to it, after a while, anyway."

"I suppose his guests don't give you much trouble," Bella said in an attempt to keep her the conversation light.

"Of course not. Most of these girls know their place. They understand that Mr. Edward is often very busy and has no time for an actual relationship, so they settle for what he can give. I don't mind it; after all, a man needs to satisfy his urges. Although…" Mrs. Cope paused enough to admire her reflection in the recently polished butter knife "…it is pretty obvious, even if they were very dense, that that is all they can receive. There's a difference between warming his bed and being a Mrs. Cullen. Oh, I remember how the papers used to cover the parties thrown by Mr. Edward's grandfather. They looked so grand, so amazing. It takes a special kind of woman to be mistress of this." She coughed. "More coffee, Dr. Swan?"

"Oh, no, thank you…" Bella mumbled, standing up. "I'm just going to take this to the library."

"I'll bring you a plate of cookies as soon as they cool off." Mrs. Cope smiled gently. However, Bella noticed none of that. Her body went on autopilot, and it wasn't until she was in the safety of the library that she allowed herself to sink to the floor, shaking.

He'd been with a woman the previous night. In the night, with her awake not ten feet away from him. Had he received his guest after he'd put her to sleep or had he been fucking her before he came down to the library. Maybe that was the reason why he had been so pleasant, Bella thought and felt slightly sick in the stomach. Who had it been? Tanya? Or maybe little Bree? Probably Bree, Tanya looked like someone who could keep it up all night long.

She ran her hand down her face, rubbing the make-up off messily. The lipstick left a long glossy line on the back of her hand. Bella looked down on it with disgust – what had she been thinking? What had she been imagining? He was, for all intends and purposes, her employer, just like he was to Mrs. Cope. She had no job flirting with him or reprimanding him for enjoying a little willing female company. He was a young, strong man, what had she been expecting from him to do at night – play Scrabble?

What was she doing, she thought, imagining that she had anything, anything at all, to the likes of Tanya or even Bree? Yes, intellectually and emotionally, she was by light years ahead of them, but in beauty, she was nothing. She would have to sell her nonexistent soul, Bella thought, to get that glamour and that beauty men seemed to like so much.

Dejected, she sat down on the desk and drank her coffee in one single gulp. She had to focus her forces on that job, she thought, decide what she wanted to do and get out of Chicago, before she did something else she would regret.

Edward didn't come down until noon, and since Bella refused to eat lunch, they didn't see each other until late afternoon. She had taken a break to stretch her fingers and her legs, and the window with the view of the garden had proven to be too much of a temptation for her to resist. The grass was green and fresh, the trees cast dark, cool shadows, and she was feeling her heart open to nature. She stepped out of the house, out of her shoes, and walked barefoot on the grass until she reached the tree she had seen from her bedroom window.

It was a lovely oak with a dark bark and heavy, large branches. When she reached it, the wind made the leaves flutter and a few stray tendrils of hair dance around her face.

"Taking a break?"

The voice startled her and she turned around with a sheepish smile. "Couldn't resist."

Edward smiled weakly, still looking a little tired from the long night. "I guess you were right about the insomnia. I couldn't get up until twelve, and Mrs. Cope tells me you've been holed up in the library since early morning."

Bella shrugged. "I wasn't tired to begin with." She looked at him pointedly. "You, however, had a very exhausting night."

"You're right, by God," he said as he approached her a little more. They stood under the shade of the tree and he was close enough for her to smell him. Mint, she registered, and something else, something strong. "I don't know how you manage to function in the morning."

"Practice," she said, stepping back slightly.

Edward paused. He didn't have a reason to be out of the conservatory, talking to her, other than the simple desire to have a nice chat with her, like they had the previous night… before she got drunk, that is. "I was wondering… I'm a little tired today for anything, but I wanted to make up to you for the previous night. I need to go around the antique stores in town tomorrow, so I was wondering if you would like to accompany me?"

"What for?" she asked. "I mean, why do you need to go around the stores?"

"I need to see if anyone can repair a vase I broke yesterday, or if they can replace it. It was an ugly thing, but maybe my mom would be pissed…" Bella didn't need to hear more. She was sure it was the vase he had broken the previous night in the throes of passion with another woman, and now he wanted her to join him as he sought replacement. What was she supposed to make of that? Beating a hasty retreat, she said quickly:

"I would love to, really Mr. Cullen, but I really, really need to get on with the letters, catalogue my notes and stuff, so if you don't mind, I'll skip it."

"That's not a problem, I was just…"

"Oh, look at the time; I'll need to be off. I promised myself to work until six thirty and I still have a ton of work. Please excuse me…"

Edward watched her run back into the house as if the Devil himself was chasing her and wondered if she was just acting coy or perhaps being modest after her performance the previous night.

He'd really wanted to take her antiquing with him, since she looked like she might enjoy it, but now that she had refused him, he wondered if it had been for the best. After all, she was a relatively attractive, intelligent woman, with whom he would spend a little more than two weeks with. He wasn't sure if he and Isabella Swan would manage to keep their relationship strictly professional, or if they would succumb to the urge and end up fucking, but he reasoned that he didn't need to add fuel to the fire. He wasn't sure he could remain being a gentleman with her if they were alone for an extended period of time, not after what she had said to him the previous night… or rather, the early morning.

The next day, Bella got up early, but when she descended the stairs and looked out the window, she noticed that Edward's Volvo was missing from the drive. So he had decided to leave early, she thought, and headed straight to the library. That time, she didn't need the coffee – she'd managed to get a couple extra hours of shut eye, which was more than she could wish for, in her mind. Besides, the letters of Edward Masen were becoming more and more interesting, and she was curious to see what happened afterwards.

Two hours later, she still hadn't looked up from her papers, so Mrs. Cope's polite greeting had her nearly jumping out of her skin in fright.

"I'm sorry," Bella breathed. "I didn't hear you."

"It's alright. Mr. Edward left early today."

"Yes, I know."

"He asked me to tell you he might not return until late tonight. He was planning on meeting his parents for lunch and then to go fix that vase…"

"He mentioned something like that." Bella nodded, wishing for the housekeeper to just get to the point so that she could continue with her work.

"I was wondering, Dr. Swan…" Mrs. Cope began. "Since you are doing the research on Mr. Edward Masen, if you would like to see his room? After all, you are digging in his history; perhaps his chambers would pose some interest to the research."

"Actually, I'm just…" Bella stopped herself before she started to babble again. "I don't think his room has anything to do with the research, but…"

"It won't take long."

"Well…"

"Do come," the housekeeper said, opening the library door for emphasis. "You do need a walk every now and again."

Not knowing how to respond without offending her, Bella put her pen down and walked obediently behind the lady. They moved down the corridor until they reached the back stairs and started climbing them. They passed the second floor and headed for the third. The trip took longer than Bella would have thought, since the stairs were narrow and old, and Mrs. Cope stopped every now and again to point at portraits hanging suspended from the walls.

"This Mr. Masen was a very virile man," Bella said when they reached the landing.

"What do you mean?"

"Climbing up and down those stairs several times a day every day…" Bella said as she held onto the rail and looked down. She wasn't one to suffer from vertigo, but she thought off-handedly that if she fell down those stairs she could easily end up with a broken neck. "Even when he was an old man…" she mused as she looked around. They were in a dark corridor with a low ceiling. "Where are we?"

"This is the top floor, right under the roof. Some of the family rooms were situated in order for the members to have a little privacy," Mrs. Cope explained.

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Bella said. "He must've liked the quiet."

"Indeed," her companion said as she opened one door. "Here it is."

Even if Bella was usually squeamish about the things of a person long dead, she couldn't help but appreciate the small, but well furnished room. The large bed, the desk, the small cabinets and the large dresser were probably all antiques, all very expressive. She stepped in slowly, as if she was entering a museum display. "This is lovely…"

"Back in the day every room in the house was occupied. Now that it's just Mr. Edward, it doesn't make sense to keep all the wings open, but I have so much free time, I clean up everywhere," Mrs. Cope declared not without pride. And, indeed, the room was so clean you could eat off the floor. Bella saw her reflection in a side door and opened it curiously. It turned out to be a closet, as big as her and deep enough to keep both her summer and winter clothes, shoes, and probably some of her roommates' clothes too. Bella looked up at the ceiling. There was no rail where they could hang clothes on, just a small hook.

"He died there, you know." Mrs. Cope's voice floated behind her and before Bella could turn around to see if the housekeeper was joking or not, she felt a strong push on her lower back and stumbled in the closet. She turned around just enough to catch sight of Mrs. Cope's mocking smile before she shut the closet door on her and turned the key in the lock. Bella's breath flew out of her throat and she lunged for the door.

"Mrs. Cope!" she yelled, banged on the door, but, of course, it wouldn't move.

"Hung himself on that hook above your head," the housekeeper continued calmly, as if she hadn't just locked her in a dark closet. "At such an admirable age too. Nobody could understand why, just one day he wrote his will and then made himself a noose. Since you're studying him now, I'm sure you would like to spend some time in there."

"No, no please let me out…" Bella begged. "Please, there's no need…"

"Oh, indeed! Don't worry; you won't detain me from my duties. I will go about my job, and when I am finished I'll come up to get you down," she said in a calm, soothing voice. "You just take your time, Dr. Swan, and do your job like you're supposed to."

"No, no, no…." Bella started to panic. "Mrs. Cope, please! Mrs. Cope! MRS. COPE!" she screamed when she heard the door the room shut and the housekeeper's retreating steps. She slammed her fists against the door, willing it to break, willing it to move, but of course, nothing of the like happened. It was a good door, strong and thick with good hinges. That old sadist probably kept it perfectly oiled, Bella thought, so that they wouldn't make a sound. She knelt down to the keyhole, but it was blocked. The only light was a thin strip filtering from under the door.

She felt herself shiver. There was no way out. She was stuck. Edward wasn't due until late, and only God knew if Mrs. Cope would take her sweet time leaving her in that dump.

As Bella stood there, she felt a chill, so strong and so sharp it made her teeth clatter. It enveloped every inch of her skin, making her curve into a ball on the floor and wrap her arms around herself. The darkness was all-consuming – no shapes, no angles, no nothing, just a vast, dark space. She stared straight ahead and willed herself to stay calm. It was cold, but she would cope with it. She couldn't stay there for long. She had to stay strong, she told herself, even as tears of frustration climbed into her eyes.

Somewhere in the house, a phone started to ring.

A/N So I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue with this story or not. I'm busy, but I have chapters ready. What do you guys think?