All things Twilight belong to the sweet imagination of Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for letting us play with them, Ms Meyer.
This chapter has been skilfully pre-read by Lovely Cared and MM, the 'Edward' of my life. However, it has not been betad – beta-ed – betaed? Edited. Sweet Perry has not been well, and I hope she is resting. Please join me in wishing and praying for her speedy return to health. Apologies for the mistakes.
I am dedicating this chapter to the victims of substance abuse. Whether these be the individuals who have turned to a chemical when a human support system has failed them; or a beloved individual who has suffered due to the change a drug wrests from the psyche; or a victim of crime committed while under the base influence of an alien substance – this chapter mourns their loss.
Gentle readers, thank you for trusting me. This is not a story about the breakdown of a marriage; rather, the construction of one...
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Chapter 13 – For Richer, For Poorer
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8th June 1795
Mr Jenks,
A situation has arisen that will take some careful handling. My wife and I suffered the misfortune of being in Lord Hunter-Buttsgrove's company minutes before he was murdered by his wife. This visit was witnessed by at least one servant of the household.
In addition, on my return to settle matters with the gentleman, I found myself in the unfortunate position of preparing Lady Hunter-Buttsgrove for prison. The Bow Street runners have my name. The lead fellow, Osborne, has undertaken to ensure her safety. I trust you to provide the necessary incentives to maintain his interest.
As I see it, several matters need to be addressed with urgency:
~ Keep our involvement out of the papers. Find the servants, pay them off, or procure employment they cannot refuse. Get them on a ship to Australia if you have to. Osborne and his crew may require more subtle persuasion – I leave this to your expertise.
~ Lady Hunter-Buttsgrove's survival is a lost cause. She was ill-treated by her husband, but having stabbed the man in the back, she has no defence. When this gets out, an imminent occurrence I am sure, she will feel the public's wrath. Do whatever it takes to alleviate her suffering. If I thought I could pay the Magistrate to commute her sentence to transport for life, I would do so without question; but I fear the scandal will be too great for any judge to risk it. Do what you can - there are kinder roads to Hell than the one she is currently destined to travel.
~ Despite our best efforts, I may be called upon as a witness at the trial. We will need to discuss my approach, but I do not intend to remain in London beyond the week. I am forewarning you of the possibility of a trip to Forbrigg in the near future. We may deal with that other matter simultaneously.
~ Find out what they have done with the remains. I will write to Lady Hunter forthwith and offer your services.
My apologies for abandoning you earlier, Jenks. This has been a bloody awful day, but I thank God in Heaven my beloved wife is safe. It was a close call.
Yours, etc.
Lord Edward Masen
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8th June 1795
My Dear Henrietta,
It is my desolate duty to write to you with distressing news. I only hope the tale reaches you first through my pen, and not the newspapers'.
As no sweet manner of address will soften this blow, I will be blunt. I know you well enough to be assured of your approval.
This afternoon I narrowly avoided witnessing Victoria lethally stabbing your nephew. I cannot tell you the reason for the murder. I only know with certainty that James is dead at his wife's hand; that his death was swift; and that Vicky is highly distressed, and in the hands of the Magistrate. She was taken to Coldbath Fields immediately. The house was deserted of servants when I saw her off.
It grieves me dreadfully to be the bearer of this horrifying news. Please accept my condolences. My lawyer, Mr Jenks, who I believe you have met on occasion, has been instructed to assist you with anything you may require. Circumstances force me to return to Norfolk before the week is out, but if there is anything I can do, please let me know.
I remain your humble servant,
Edward Masen, Lord of Forbrigg
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I throw my quill onto the writing table and ring for a man to deliver my correspondence. I pay to have the household members awoken if necessary. Thank God I will not be present to witness the letters' reception.
I run both hands through my hair, which feels filthy from sweat and heavens knows what else. Several times I have imagined the smell from the salon has clung to my clothing or skin, but when I sniff myself I cannot trace the scent at all. I need to go home and bathe.
I reach for my glass to drain it, but find it already empty. I shrug and refill it. There is no urgency to return. What is at home for me after all, but a deceitful family colluding to treat me like the blind fool I clearly am?
At least Bella will not have to leave London with the same urgency as before. There will be time to address our differences when we have both regained our sanity.
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"Edward. Ed! Wake up."
"What?" I force my gritty eyes apart to encounter Em looming over me like a goose over its gosling. A servant opens the heavy drapes behind him. The sudden light pierces my head with what feels like malice.
I sit up in my chair, rubbing my face to remove the vestiges of sleep. "What time is it, Em?"
"You stink, Cousin. How much did you drink? It is almost noon."
"Noon?" I groan. I need to wash up and get home. Who knows what they have been up to in my absence?
Oh Lord, poor Bella, I have deserted her all night through. I wince with shame at the thought of how I left her yesterday. She must have been devastated. I hold my aching head in my hands.
The thought strikes me that my neglect may have worse consequences: after her fear and shock, I have left her utterly alone, quite without comfort. Did she know she was safe?
"I have something to show you." Em holds a crisply folded newspaper out to me, the front-page headline taking up the full sheet in heavy, black letters. My hand shakes a little when I reach out to take it from him. It is a special edition, printed quickly for the hungry gossipers.
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Wicked Wife Stabs Lord Through Heart
Yesterday, in a most heinous act of hatred, the life of Lord James Hunter-Buttsgrove was prematurely ended with a vicious and treacherous stab to the back.
His wife wielded the long-handled scissors that pierced the handsome young lord through his heart and lung. Lady Victoria Hunter-Buttsgrove was caught with blood on her hands. She was hauled to Coldbath Fields prison in chains to await her trial.
It is unclear what motivated her horrifying attack. Lady Victoria is well known in certain city circles. Her former friends may speculate as to whether a fit of jealous rage overcame her, or whether a temporary insanity struck her blind. In either case, a noble Lord has lost his life, and will be greatly mourned.
A quantity of opium was found in the Hunter-Buttsgrove residence. A spokesman from the Bow Street Magistrates' court implied that there were sufficient quantities to rival an Oriental brothel...
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Though the article - which continues with little truth and much speculation - sickens me, I am relieved by it. There is no mention of the name Masen, no hint that any other party was involved, and no direct quotes from anyone. Perhaps Jenks performed his usual miracles.
I look up from the page to find Em watching me closely.
"I need to get home. I left Bella in a state, and Jasper..." I shake my head. I have not yet begun to process my anger with my brother.
"I have recently come from your house, Edward. There was quite a commotion there when Rose and I arrived early this morning."
"Was there?" My wry smile is utterly without humour.
Em nods. "Do you want to tell me your story first, or hear mine?"
"You had better tell me what to expect, Em, because I do not know how to begin with what happened yesterday."
A serving boy bearing a tray of coffee and buns arrives. He clears the debris from around me, and is about to throw a scrap of writing paper into the fire when I shoot out a hand to hold his wrist. "Wait, boy, I want that."
"Sorry, Sir." He bows and hands me the scrap of paper bearing the composition I was writing in my drunken stupor. I have no idea whether the music will be any good, but I was writing it for Bella, and I want the opportunity to find out. I fold it and slip it into my waistcoat pocket. It reminds me of how I used to wear her letters next to my heart.
Em pours the coffee. I sip at its bitter richness while my cousin considers how to begin.
"Rose and Aunt Jane do not enjoy one another's company," he says. This is an unexpected beginning. The world does not revolve around my problems after all. I internally roll my eyes, and gesture for Em to continue.
"I discovered my wife and Aunt insulting one another at the breakfast table this morning. I was quite alarmed at what they were accusing one another of – Jane is accustomed to having her way in all things, as you well know... anyway, their argument was not pretty. I thought it politic to leave for a while. I brought Rosalie to see her sister in the hope that Bella could soothe her. I walked into the midst of a greater argument at King's Square."
"Who was arguing with whom?" I am immediately on edge – if Jasper has upset my wife to the smallest degree, I will have his hide.
Em chuckles at the images in his mind. "Well, let me see. Your brother, sporting a bruised face and a black eye, which I believe are your doing?" He cocks an eyebrow at me in question.
I nod. The dunderhead deserved what he got.
"So, Jasper was spitting teeth at your butler and your groom, while Bella's maid – Alice – wrung her hands and wept buckets; and for the most part, your wife sat serenely listening to them all until she'd decided she'd had enough."
"What do you mean?"
"As far as I understood, your butler and groom were under strict orders to take Bella home to Forbrigg at first light. Alice was meant to accompany her. Jasper intended to rescind your orders in your absence. He refused to allow Bella to leave, and absolutely put his foot down at Alice leaving too. What the devil is all that about, Edward?"
"I will tell you when you relate how it was resolved." My foul body slumps back into the comfort of the upholstered chair. I cannot imagine how I will deal with all this when I return.
"The argument became more and more heated. Your groom refused to back down, though Samuels looked as though he might be wavering. Alice was wailing about wanting to leave before you returned, which seemed to be making Jasper even more angry. Then your lovely wife stood up and addressed them all like the true lady she is."
"What did she say?" I sit up straight again to hear this.
"She said if it was your wish that she return to Forbrigg immediately, then that is what she would do. She said she would not be persuaded to disobey you again, at which Jasper flushed bright red and hung his head. Then she told Alice - very gently - that it was up to her to decide which master to obey, and that she would understand her choice either way. Then Rosalie asked whether she could speak to me in private, and blow me down if she didn't request my permission to accompany Bella to Forbrigg in Alice's stead!"
"And you can refuse your wife nothing, Em. When do they plan to depart, then?"
"They have gone, old fellow. Two hours ago."
"God damn it all to hell, they have gone?" As my anger swells through my body again, a weary part of my soul looks on with despair. It is my quick temper that has left me in this position. I slap my hand to my eyes to close out the image of my cousin's concern. I do not deserve his unwavering friendship.
"Will you tell me what the matter is, Ed? Things were said this morning that have me worried, my friend."
"I do not know where to begin. Tell me, Em, have I always been as quick to anger as this?"
He cocks his head to one side, considering. "Well, no – no. You were quite the fun loving young lad as far as I can recall. I remember you laughing, more than anything. I suppose you had the boxing to absorb your fire. It is only in the last few years that I've known you – like this," he gestures at me with his hand, "All brooding and dark. Is it because of your father passing on? I just assumed, the responsibility, you know..."
"Perhaps. I honestly do not know. Let me tell you my story, Em. I hope you are in no hurry, for it will take some time."
"My dear friend, the only person who could tear me away from you is in a carriage on her way to Norfolk. Speak." He settles back in his chair, rests his boots upon the footstool in front of him and folds his hands under his chin.
I have his full attention.
"I suppose I ought to begin with an incident that occurred more than two years ago..."
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When I finally reach home there is a card from Jenks on the tray. I hope fervently that his news can wait, because I do not feel up to dealing with him now.
I managed a vinegar and warm water wash at White's, but I am still in the stinking clothes I wore yesterday. I climb quietly and wearily to my room, hoping to avoid my brother for a little longer.
Bella's scent pervades the desolate space.
The bedroom is so clean and neat, it is as though she was never here. Her brushes, her toiletries, her robe, her writing set – all are gone. I suppose this pain I feel is loneliness.
There is a rose in a small vase on the writing table that was not there before; propped against it is a note in Bella's pretty hand.
I strip off my clothes and pull on a clean shirt and breeches before approaching it. I am so reluctant to read the accusations I feel sure she will level at me, I consider leaving it be until the morning. Where does all this cowardice come from? I am not known to delay my battles.
When I lift the note, a small wrapped parcel that was concealed behind it slips forward on the polished rosewood surface. Within the layers of tissue paper, I find a small ceramic fob on a gold chain. Painted on it, the brush strokes as delicate as the exquisite features they portray, is a likeness of my wife. I recognise Rose's style. It is beautiful.
Clutching the likeness in my hand, I open the letter from Bella.
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9th June 1795
My beloved husband,
I have not slept this long night as thoughts of what I must say to you have whirled in and out of my head these many hours. Yet, I still do not know how to write. Please forgive my lack of eloquence – if you can forgive me anything, perhaps it is that.
I am so very sorry for my foolish behaviour. If I had known the danger I was in, I would not have left your brother's side for anything. I understand now that you tried to warn me twice. I recall your telling me that Vicky and James were no friends of ours, and I am ashamed that I did not heed your words. I expected your brother to ensure I returned safely home yesterday, but I do not think he had the slightest notion that my life was in danger. Jasper will have to make his own peace with you, but I do not blame him for that – the fault is mine.
A worse error on my part was allowing myself to be drawn into a grievous deception. I thought that not telling you about Alice and Jasper's fondness for one another was a safer path. I never lied to you, but I did not reveal the truth, and I understand now that one kind of deception is as bad as another. I was hoping you would forbid me to go out yesterday, and even that deception was a sin, for which I was sorely punished. Please know that I have been renewing my wedding vows all night long. Although the only witness was God Himself, I believe He understands my sincerity. I will obey you in spirit, Edward, as completely as I cherish and love you.
Perhaps my gravest error was this: I did not appreciate until now the depth of gentleness in your soul. I expected you to punish me for my wrong-doing, and you did; but not in the way I imagined. Husband, you are unlike my father in many ways, but your restraint in your anger is a noble difference indeed. I am so very ashamed of my assumption that all men are alike in their desire to strike the weaker sex. Your leaving me has taught me a harsh lesson, but I have learned it well. I beg your forgiveness, Sir.
Your humble wife,
Isabella Masen
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My headache returns with a vengeance. I lie down on the bed in the spot where I last lay with my wife weeping in my arms, and stare at the ceiling.
There is no enlightenment there.
She thinks I left to punish her. I suppose she felt my abandonment as a punishment, but that is so far from the truth as to make me feel quite ill. I may as well have beaten her with a stick, as left her to her own thoughts and fears.
I am not the man I believed myself to be. I am a coward who runs from himself and his responsibilities at the first sign of difficulty. I am a fool, easily tempted to violence by a temper I cannot contain. I am blind to the needs of the people I love, so immersed in my own importance that I cannot see further than my nose. And worst of all, I am full of unwarranted pride; I cannot keep my family safe by sharing the most basic information with them, for fear they will think less of me.
I do not deserve the title 'husband'.
I took you as my wife, Isabella Masen. I promised before God and all our witnesses to hold you, love you, cherish you until death do us part. Death, not idiocy!
And thereto I plight thee my troth. Why do the vows differ in this manner? Why are you required to give me your troth, while I plight mine? Is it because the woman places her life, her trust, her entire being in the hands of her husband, while he merely takes what is offered and behaves as he will? You gave yourself to me, Bella, and I promised to take care of you, but I have failed at the first impediment. Perhaps a promise is harder to keep than a life is to be given?
I had better end this pointless brooding. There are things to be done – I have a family to lead. I may not be worthy of it, but I am head of a household nevertheless. The sooner I make amends here in London, the sooner I can ride home to my wife.
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Searching the house for Jasper, it is Alice I encounter first. She emerges from Jasper's room carrying a heap of folded linens. When she sees me standing at the far end of the corridor, she startles, and almost drops them. She curtsies to me and stands stock-still, mute in her fear – for it is fear written deep into her features that I read.
"Alice." I keep my voice soft so she can be in no doubt of my concern for her. "Are you well?" I walk steadily forwards as I speak; she has the appearance of a wild deer, ready to bolt at any moment.
"Yes, Sir," she whispers. She appears momentarily confused.
"Where is my brother?" The fear returns to her face immediately. She warily inclines her head towards his room.
"Would you ask him to come downstairs to talk to me please?"
She curtsies again, but is hesitant.
"What's wrong, Alice? Is he – is Mr Masen well?" Perhaps she is frightened to address him. I wonder what on earth has passed between them since yesterday.
"Yes, Sir, he is well. Please, Sir – please do not hurt him." Her whisper is barely audible this time. It is me she is frightened of. Little wonder.
"Alice, please, just ask Mr Masen to attend me in my study. Everything will be all right, you will see. We will take care of you, I promise." I reach out a hand to caress her head – a gesture meant to be soothing, but she mistakes me and flinches from my hand. Jasper emerges from his room behind us at this very moment. I suppose he sees my hand raised and the girl cringing away from me. He emits a low growl, and rushes to place himself between Alice and I.
I can only look at him in reproach.
His left eye is ringed with dark purple, and his cheek is slightly swollen. I am pleased I did not damage him too severely.
He recovers himself. "Edward." He nods at me, eyes lowered.
"Jasper." What am I going to do with him? I clap my hand on his shoulder. "Come. We will walk. The day is still warm."
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My brother and I head, shoulder to shoulder, towards the river. The sun is shining this evening, and a light breeze ruffles the heavy grey water. Street vendors vie for our attention, but it is not forthcoming. We are both stewing in our attempt to find words.
Finally, Jasper speaks. "I do not know how to tell you how sorry I am for what occurred yesterday, Edward. I did not know the threat Victoria posed, or I would never have allowed Bella to leave with her."
"I know."
"I do not mean to excuse myself; I behaved abominably, and I long to make amends – but, why did you not tell me of the threat? What was – had James gone mad?"
I stop at the railing overlooking the Thames and watch the barges as they progress slowly upstream. The tide is low. The acrid smell from the exposed riverbanks reminds me of the stench in James' salon, and nausea makes my stomach roil. I take the discomfort in stride – it is a small, fitting punishment. Removing my hat, I run my hand through my clean hair. Jasper waits patiently for my response.
"I think he must have lost his reason. I see now that his madness was a long time coming. He has not been of entirely sound mind for years, but I ignored the symptoms. They found – he used opium. It does one no good. I suspect he forced it on Victoria, too."
"But why take Bella? What did he mean to achieve? Was he so angry with you?"
"I know why, Jasper, but do not expect it to make any sense." Oh, how I loathe talking about this. My brother waits for me to continue, warily.
"Some while ago, James took great pleasure in drugging me and rendering me helpless. He overpowered and abused me. That is, he used his wife to abuse me. It pains me to tell you this, Jasper, but after Victoria had her way with me, he expected to be able to take his turn with my wife. He was determined, I suppose. Nothing was going to stop him. He threatened me when I saw him last. He was quite mad, you are right. And now he is dead."
Jasper looks at me with sympathy. "Yes. It makes no sense at all. I understand why you would not openly disclose that threat. You and James were very close at one point, were you not?"
I nod. We were. I could not have foreseen the person he became.
I turn to look my brother in the eye. "I am angry with you for two reasons. The first is the manner in which you not only plotted to deceive me, but persuaded my wife to engage in the deception, with complete and utter disregard for her safety and her moral integrity. You are training for the clergy, Jasper! How do you expect to play the role of spiritual leader, when you so easily lead your innocent sister into disgrace?"
The pain and regret apparent on my brother's features assuages my anger slightly. It strikes me, as he struggles to respond, that this anger feels different to the quick fire I usually succumb to. For once, I am in control of my temper; it does not control me.
"I understand, Edward. I..." He shuffles his feet; looks at the ground; stares up to the heavens. He apparently finds no inspiration, and sighs in defeat. "I cannot defend myself. I behaved very badly. I am deeply mortified by the outcome of my foolishness. I can hardly bear to think of what you have been through, and Bella's experience must have been worse. To know that I am responsible for the discord between you and my sister, though – that is the worst possible punishment I can endure. I am the poorest of brothers, and I beg you to direct all your anger towards me. Bella deserves none of it."
"I am no longer angry with Bella," I say, placing a hand on my brother's shoulder. "I was hurt; I am still wounded, but it is my fault entirely that she did not comprehend the situation she was placing herself in. I think – well, I believe I understand her and myself better now. I am not blameless, Jasper. But I am glad to hear you acknowledge your part. We can put that behind us now. However," I pause, seeking my own inspiration in the blue evening sky. "There is still the matter of Alice."
At the mention of her name, Jasper straightens his bearing. He almost takes on a battle stance.
"What could you possibly be thinking, little brother?" I use an old term of endearment to show that I do not wish to judge. I actually find it difficult not to judge, though.
"Alice is everything to me, Edward. I love her. More than anything."
"You love her?" He stares at me unflinchingly; his blue eyes painfully sincere. He seems so young. Or perhaps I feel too old. Older than I ought to. My experiences in the last twenty-four hours have aged me eighty years, if such a thing is possible.
Jasper's answer is emphatic. "Yes. I do. I will do anything for her."
I did not expect this. He loves her? Wait – has he not believed himself in love before?
"Jasper, how do you know? Forgive me for raising it, but you have little experience of women and love...and if I may say so, Alice has far less..."
"I know, Edward. I know deep within my bones that Alice Swan is the woman I am meant to spend the rest of my life with. And I understand completely that my superior birth and worldly knowledge makes her vulnerable to my seduction; believe me when I tell you that I have agonised over our relationship. But Alice put her faith in me. I trust her and she trusts me, and I will make this right somehow. I hoped you would support me, older brother."
His words wound me anew. Only yesterday, I believed similarly – I trusted Bella, and she trusted me with all her heart. Oh, how the mighty are fallen. Neither of us truly trusted the other. Like Saul, the scales have fallen from my eyes. I have not been what I ought to have been!
But I may be a good brother, yet.
"Do you understand how this looks, Jasper? You are to inherit the living at Forbrigg. You are counted upon to take it up very soon! You cannot do so with a mistress, and if you marry Alice, you will not be in a position to lead the community in prayer. They will not accept you, or her – is that what you want for her? Gossip and slander and life as an outcast? Wait - before you answer, think very deeply, Jasper. It is not only your happiness at stake here. You tell me you will put Alice above everything. Do you mean that? Does that include giving her up, for her own benefit?"
As I speak, something that my brother said is niggling at the back of my mind. Something that did not sound quite right – so I am taken off guard by his response.
"I will marry her. If we fail to find acceptance here, we will leave England. We will cross the ocean if we have to. It is the last resort to answer our desire to be together, but we will take it. We discussed this yesterday. We met with a broker – oh, Edward, we do not wish to leave you, far from it; but if it is the only way..."
He reaches out to grasp my arm, offering me comfort now. I must look shocked. I am shocked, but something has connected in my mind, and it is not Jasper's dramatic announcement about his imminent emigration.
"You called her Alice Swan."
"Yes? She has taken the name of her employer, it is not uncommon..."
"No; but what if it is true? What if she was born Alice Swan?"
"I don't follow you..."
"James told you that Swan had a sister, did he not?"
"Yes; a half sister, if I recall correctly. What are you driving at?"
"She must have been a good deal younger than her brother. Just the right age to appeal to that fucking fiend." I am speculating wildly, but my instinct is engaged. Something tells me that I am close to the truth here...
"Edward, what are you talking about?"
"What if Alice Swan is Charles Swan's niece? What if she should actually bear the name Black? Alice Black, daughter of William and whatever Swan's sister was called?"
Jasper's eyebrows shoot up into his hat. "Actually, that would make some sense...some of what Alice has told me has seemed so strange. Without rational explanation, really, unless..."
"Come on. We will go and talk to her. She must know something. And Jasper?"
He stops in mid turn, one foot comically raised in anticipation of a mad dash home to the apparent love of his life.
"You saw a broker? You went that far in your effort to hide from me?"
"I am afraid I did. Your reaction embarrasses me, if that consoles you at all." He puts his foot back down upon the ground and faces me again. "Edward, Alice is terrified of both Swan and Black. That she trusts me is a miracle. She is frightened of you, of Samuels, of Jacob, Laurent...Her natural inclination is to hide. I thought, if we left, she would not need to hide any more."
Honestly, I am not at all certain my brother would survive the New World. He looks at me with such candour and such faith...
"You will not need to leave the country, you squirrel-head. Why you could not just talk to me, I will never know. I suppose it is another thing I will have to add to the long list of failings I own."
"Please, Edward, allow me title to my own folly. It is the least you can do."
I laugh, and good lord, it feels liberating. Relief and excitement may have made my brother and me light-headed. At least, now that we have action to take, our hearts are lighter.
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What should Jasper do?
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Next installment in a fortnight. :) Bella and her lord will be reunited, but not without drama.