A/N: Happy Friday Afternoon!

Thank you all so much for all your wonderful thoughts as well as your well-wishes for our fam vacation and my daughter's dance competition! We had a wonderful time. Now, I'm back. :)

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to either history, or to me.

Chapter 24 – The Incident in the Smythe Home

Father and I stand together in the middle of the Smythe family's home, which he and I once shared for a few, brief months within the mostly-carefree eighteen years in which I existed as a maiden daughter. Much has changed in the short period since. I am now a wife, soon to be a mother, and aye, I have many cares.

His eyes narrow in perceptive scrutiny as he takes me in, for he is accustomed to reading me easily.

"We have had our differences, Isabella, yet my daughter and my heart you shall always be. What plagues you?"

"'Tis related to Edward."

Father's impassive features sharpen significantly. "If he has hurt you, I shall kill him."

"He has not hurt me, Father. Edward loves me as I love him, and he would never harm me."

My father shuts his eyes and releases a long breath. Yet, his apparent relief lasts merely a moment.

"Then, what hangable offense has your traitorous patriot of a husband committed now?"

I pull away from him and take two, quick steps back. "He has done nothing, and I resent the assumption to the contrary."

"Can you blame me? He has given sufficient reason as of late."

For a few seconds, I glare openly at my father, making my own attempt to read him, for once I could do so almost as easily as he. Shaking my head, I make my way to the door.

"This was an error in judgment, for you are obviously not of a mind to listen and act fairly when it comes to matters related to my husband. Rosalie, let us go. We shall attempt to stop them ourselves."

"Aye, Isabella. That would likely be best." I hear the swishing of Rosalie's skirts behind me before my father speaks again.

"Stop who yourselves?"

I do not reply as I lift my hood over my head. Lieutenant Felix, who stands by the door, eyes me with wariness. He appears to mentally weigh the benefits and drawbacks of an attempt to stop me.

"I would not," I say to him as I reach for the doorknob.

"Isabella, wait. Stop who yourselves? Isabella. Isabella! Fine, I shall listen and act fairly!"

With a deep breath, I halt and turn, once more dropping my hood as I take measured, tentative steps closer to my father.

"Do I have your word, sir, that you shall listen and act fairly?"

"You have my word as a servant of the Crown."

"That is not enough. Do I have your word as my father?"

His chest rises and falls as he fists the top of his curled, pale wig. "You have my word as your father."

For one, long moment, I hold his gaze. "Very well. I shall trust you then."

"Good. Now, tell me what this is about."

"Father, the men you hold in the town prison…they are friends of my husband."

He replies without pause or surprise. "Of that, I am aware. In the past, they all spent much time together in congress within his tavern."

"Aye, they did," I concede. "They have all grown up together and matured into men together. 'Tis only natural that, along with Rosalie's husband, Emmett, and with their friend, Jasper Hale, they share similar beliefs." I look to Rosalie, who stands just to my side. She nods in silent agreement.

Father eyes me speculatively. "Again, I am aware."

"Naturally, the men's imprisonment has upset my husband. Nightly, he and his friends bemoan the rest of their friends' plight."

"I shall not free them, Isabella," my father says. "If that is what you have come to request, I am sorry, for I shall not grant this. I love you, and I shall do much for you, but I draw the line at freeing men who attempted an uprising against my men and the Crown. As per English laws regarding treason, they shall be sent to an English prison ship to await final judgment."

"My own thoughts on the fairness of such a judgment notwithstanding, I shall tell you I make no such request from you, Father."

"Your thoughts on fairness once mirrored mine, yet much has changed since your marriage. Am I to assume then, that you are here at your husband's behest to make the request on his behalf?"

I throw my hands up in the air. "Damnation! Why does everyone always believe I lurk around fulfilling the bids of others as if I do not possess my own mind? I am here of my own volition, Father, no one else's!"

Father's head jerks back. "Good Lord, even your outbursts have grown in vehemence."

"I apologize," I say shakily, "but Edward would never, ever request much less condone such a thing as my begging a favor from anyone on his behalf! If you acknowledge nothing else of his character, at the very least acknowledge this."

He holds my gaze for a few seconds before offering me a tight nod. "Very well; 'tis acknowledged. Then, truthfully, why are you here, Isabella?"

My chest heaves, and my body verily vibrates with my shaking. Unequal yet to say what I must, I glare down at the floor instead.

"Isabella…" Father reaches for me, but I am still too angry at him. When I remain out of his reach, he drops his hand to his side.

"The truth is Father…the truth is you are correct; my husband is a Patriot."

With my head down, I cannot see his expression, but I hear Father's heavy exhalation.

"And…and aye, he is sometimes outspoken in his beliefs, rash in his judgment, whimsical in his thoughts, and ideologically-inclined toward some Utopian, self-governed society, which of course can never truly exist."

Father snorts.

"Yet, in actions, my husband is a man of responsibility – and responsibility he shall never shirk nor take lightly. With his father growing older, Edward has people whose livelihood depend on him and on our land. What is more, he is a married man now, and…"

"And…?" Father prompts when seconds transpire, and I fail to continue.

When I raise my eyes to him, a small, irrepressible smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. 'Tis instinctive at this point when I splay a hand protectively 'cross my stomach.

"And if all goes well, Edward shall soon be a father."

Father watches me through rounded eyes, mouth agape before his breath hitches sharply. He shuts his mouth with an audible clap of teeth against teeth.

"Isabella, is this true? Are you telling me you shall soon be a…I shall soon be a…"

My smile grows. "By Rosalie's calculations, I shall be a mother, and you shall be a grandfather shortly after the new year."

At this, my father can no longer contain himself. He lifts his hands to my shoulders and draws me near.

"Dear Lord." He pulls back and watches me with open amazement. "Dear Lord," he repeats in a quiet, wistful voice, a small smile tugging 'cross his own mien. "I wish your mother would have lived to see this."

I swallow thickly and lay a palm over his rough, weathered cheek. "As do I, Father, and as your first thought at this news was of Mother, I am sure you see how this has become the main concern between my husband and me."

"Of course," he readily agrees. Then, he quirks a brow. "Though, I suggest your husband's next concern should be pledging and renewing his loyalty to the King, something he refused to do last I saw him, despite all the trouble in which he found himself."

"I believe he was punished sufficiently, Father, by having his tavern seized."

"I was lenient with him," he counters.

"You took away a part of his livelihood," I say with a humorless chuckle, "a part of his family's legacy…a part of our child's legacy."

"Isabella, the child must be born into a household undoubtedly aligned to the Crown. The Swans have been loyal to England as far back as the Norman invasion. My grandchild shall not be raised with hatred toward the Mother Country in his or her breast," he hisses. "I hope you do not plan to allow such an insult to our forebearers."

I bite my tongue to hold back the words at the tip of it – the reminder that Edward's and my child shall be an American Cullen, not a English Swan.

"Father, let us be honest; my husband shall never hold the Mother Country in any regard, for in his heart, a Patriot he shall likely remain for the rest of his days, regardless of how this current conflict ends. But I shall be the child's mother, and while I cannot assure you the child's nightly prayers will end in 'God save the King,' he or she shall not be taught hatred toward England or its English forefathers."

"Isabella," he says indignantly, unsatisfied with my reply. But I forestall him.

"Moreover, as a father yourself, I am sure you understand that what is most important to Edward and I is the health of our unborn child, not its allegiance at birth."

His chagrin is instant. "Forgive me. 'Tis as it should be," he agrees sedately, cradling my cheek in his hand. "The child's health…and yours are paramount. Nevertheless, this Cause toward a nonexistent nation should be set aside for these heftier concerns."

"Aye, and that is very well why I am here."

"Tell him, Isabella," Rosalie encourages when I fail to continue. "We have no other choice. For all our sakes, tell him."

"I do not know if I can."

She lays a hand on my shoulder. "You must."

"Isabella?" Father's voice is laced with such concern, it spears me. "Dear Lord, are you well, daughter?"

"I am well, Father, I assure you. 'Tis Edward's friend, Jasper Hale, who concerns us."

"Mr. Hale? What of him?"

"Nightly does Jasper attempt to destroy the peace and extinguish the newfound joy in my household." My tone hardens. "As my husband and I plan for our growing family, Jasper whispers such ideas in Edward's ears, refusing to accept that these foolish notions are no longer my husband's main concerns."

Father's whiskers curl in anger and disgust. "Has he no wife?"

"No, sir."

"No occupation?"

"He farms his own land."

"Then no holdings or tenants?"

"None beyond his small parcel and home."

"A man with no true responsibilities," Father says. He shakes his head while contempt twists his lips into a sneer. "'Tis precisely the sort of aimless, trivial existence which has encouraged this inane cause toward patriotism and self-determination," he snorts.

"Aye. And while Jasper may have once been able to rile my husband's indignation on behalf of his friendship with the imprisoned men, as I said, Edward and I have more important issues with which to contend. Yet, Jasper continues his badgering, night after night. And this evening…"

"This evening…?"

"Isabella, tell him," Rosalie breathes.

Drawing in a deep breath, I release it in one long gust through narrowed lips. "This evening, the three men once again argued regarding the imprisoned men. Yet, the argument grew most violent, Father."

"Were you harmed?" he asks quickly.

"No, Father. Our husbands banished us to the kitchen."

"As it should be."

I clench my fists at my sides and force myself to ignore that statement.

"Nevertheless, they shouted with such vehemence that Rosalie and I clearly heard everything."

Father's brow lifts in undisguised curiosity. "What did they say?"

My heart races. "Jasper has apparently recruited men from a nearby town, and they aim to make their way here into Freehold before daybreak."

"With what purpose?" My father asks, frowning deeply now.

"To renew the failed uprising," I say in a strangled whisper. "Jasper wanted…he wanted Edward and Emmett to join him, and to order our tenants to join as well, but Edward and Emmett refused. Their hearts go out to the imprisoned men and their families, but-"

"But they have families and true responsibilities," my father finishes for me.

"Aye," I barely mouth before dropping my gaze to the floor between us.

"And now, you are afraid that with the trouble your husbands have recently been in, should these men attempt an uprising, your husbands shall be believed a part of it."

"Aye," I say in a choked voice.

"A genuine fear, I am afraid. I am glad you came to me."

A handful of seconds transpire. Father brushes his whiskers his thumb and forefinger as he ponders what I have told him.

"Where is Mr. Hale to meet with these men? Do you know?"

"They come from the north, from the direction of New Brunswick. I believe he meant to meet them on the main road halfway between both towns."

"New Brunswick," my father scowls darkly, "another haven for these damnable rebels. Of how many men do we speak?" he further inquires.

"I believe three and twenty or thereabouts."

"Three score, I believe he said, Isabella. Did he not say three score?" Rosalie says.

"You are likely correct," I say. "I was too nervous to hear the number correctly."

"Three score? That be a significant number." When Father releases my arms and steps back, I force my gaze upward to meet his, but he is a man of action and already on the move. From the middle of the room, I watch him stride around delivering orders. He is no longer my father but Major Charles Swan of the King's Royal Army.

"Lieutenant Felix," he barks, "where is Captain Pitman?"

The Lieutenant swiftly approaches my father. "He and his men are guarding the prison, Major."

"Fetch him quickly. Tell him to leave a small contingent around the prison, but to bring the rest of his men. We have not a moment to lose."

"Yes, sir!" The Lieutenant rushes off to do my father's bidding.

Next, Father turns to his valet. "Fetch my gear and weapons, and I want you and Lieutenant Marcus to escort my daughter and Mrs. McCarty back home."

"Father promise me you shall take care, and please promise me you shall not act in haste!"

"If Mr. Hale attempts another uprising, I shall act as need be."

"But Father, if all you find are men together doing nothing more than sharing their thoughts, should they not be allowed to-"

My father swiftly approaches me and grabs my shoulders firmly yet carefully. "Isabella, go home."

"But Father-"

"Listen to me. You must return home swiftly."

"But I-"

"First and foremost, you are with child," he hisses. "If I did not know from firsthand experience how even under the most watchful eye you manage to slip in and out of places where you should not be, I would add 'unpardonable carelessness' to my list of grievances against your husband."

"Father! I thought we agreed-"

"Secondly, as much as I am not fond of your husband's idealistic beliefs, and as much as I value James Pitman for his…" he sighs, "you are Mr. Cullen's wife, and he is correct in that James should be kept as far from you as possible. He still harbors feelings for you, which cannot be. Nevertheless, James will soon be here. Thirdly, you and Mrs. McCarty need to ensure your husbands remain by their hearths tonight, for if Mr. Hale does manage to convince them to go with him-"

When a series of furious poundings, which sound like heavy boots and fists, strike the door, I jump and gasp. The pounding intensifies.

"ISABELLA!"

When I recognize the voice, all air leaves my lungs, and my father curses under his breath. His valet has delivered his pistol, and rather than stowing it, Father assumes a protective stance in front of Rosalie and me. As he looks toward the door and nods once in signal for his lieutenant to open, he holds up the pistol. The moment the Lieutenant unlatches the door, 'tis pushed back with such force that the poor man goes reeling halfway 'cross the room, while the door slams into the wall.

"Isabella!"

I am locked within the furiously clouded green eyes of my husband, with Emmett right behind him. They stop at the threshold for just a moment, while Edward takes me in from head to foot. And though he must see my father and his pistol in his periphery, my husband neither breaks our gaze nor does his stride falter once he makes his way toward me.

"Mr. Cullen," father warns.

"Father, set down your weapon! That is my husband!"

In three strides, Edward is at my side. He glowers at me, aye, yet when he takes me by the shoulders, when he touches me, relief floods through me. His eyes shut, and he mouths words I cannot hear. When he reopens his eyes, his agony is evident, and my heart constricts for the pain I know I have caused.

"I had no choice, Edward."

Edward swallows thickly. "'Twas my fault you saw it that way. This should never have occurred. I am to blame.''

"Edward, let us go home," I say swiftly.

He remains still, his hands firmly curved around my shoulders, his expression vacillating between anger, agony, guilt, and everything in between, and I know I must get him out of my father's house.

"Let us go home, Edward," I repeat.

"Mr. Cullen, take your wife home," my father says. "Take care of your true responsibilities."

"Father, do not lecture-"

Edward snorts. "For once in his life, your father is correct." Despite his ire, he cradles my face in his hands. "Are you well?"

"I am fine, Edward."

Still, he stands there, unmoving, locked in place and keeping me locked in place. In my periphery, I see Emmett lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Edward, we have retrieved our wives. Let us go."

Seconds which feel like hours transpire before Edward finally blinks. Swiftly, he takes my hand and moves toward the door.

"Mr. Cullen," father calls out, "Isabella has told me of what Mr. Hale plans."

Edward halts, yet his gaze remains front and center, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths as his nostrils flare and his grip on my hand tightens.

"And I…I trust you care for your wife and unborn child sufficiently to understand she did so to keep you from hanging. Regardless of what occurs between now and dawn, remain close to her."

Edward does not turn toward my father nor acknowledge his words in any other way beyond pulling me into his side as he leads us out of the house. He speaks no words as he guides us to where Aro and Emmett's horse, Caius, await.

"Where is Hope?" I ask in a panic, for she is not tied to where I left her. "And where is Rosalie's mare?"

"Davey and Seth are riding them home," Edward replies curtly. Then, he picks me up by the waist and situates me sideways over Aro before easily hefting himself up behind me. When I attempt to situate myself astride, he firmly wraps his arm 'round my stomach and pulls me against his chest.

"Damnation, remain sideways," he hisses through his teeth and in my ear.

Despite my own growing ire, I know better than to pick this fight, and so I simply sigh in frustration.

"Are you ready?" he breathes.

Aye, he is furious, yet the hand he has on my stomach strokes our child and me tenderly. For one moment, I am reminded of a night which now seems so long ago, when I first rode Aro with him after he discovered me trespassing within his tavern on the most inopportune of evenings. On that night also, he was infuriated. Yet I recall how periodically, I would feel his warm breath on my hair and the tips of his fingers stroking my skin as if he could not help himself.

"Edward-"

"Not now, Isabella. We shall speak at home."

I have only a handful of moments in which I try to meet Rosalie's gaze across the darkness, where Emmett has situated her over Caius, before we are off.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward rides swiftly to Cullen Hill, though I know 'tis not as fast as he and Aro are able to go. Nevertheless, we arrive without issue, for which I give sincere thanks even though I know my husband has seethed all the way home. He dismounts first, and though we are surrounded by the dozen or so men who have remained, none dare approach as Edward takes me by the waist and guides me off his tall horse.

As soon as he is assured both my feet have touched ground, Edward does an about-face. I watch warily as he stalks a few steps away, removes his tricorn and furiously flings it into the darkness. Then, he throws his head up to the black, moonless sky and emits the growl of a beast.

All those around us remain silent.

After a couple of minutes, my husband stalks back toward me, his angular jaw squared tight, his shoulders tense and rigid.

He dips his eyes to my level, and even in the darkness, I see how his eyes burn as with a fire from within.

"You shall never, EVER again involve yourself in something like this! Am I understood?" He digs his forefinger powerfully into his chest. "I shall never again involve you-"

"Yes, I shall," I grit through my teeth, "if the necessity ever again arises, if I am able to-"

"HELL AND DAMNATION!" He shouts so forcefully I reel back momentarily before my fury multiplies, and with a fire burning in my own veins, I close all distance between us.

"How dare you-"

"How dare I?" he asks in disbelief.

"Aye, how dare you! You were not supposed to follow me to my father's house! I told you I would be safe once there! Seth and Davey rode with us most of the way, and Rosalie and I were almost done! Your actions could have been the ones to give us away!"

He stares at me as if I have spoken a tongue foreign to him. Then, he drops his head and shakes it from side to side, abruptly chuckling in a way that sounds as if he wants to howl once more. Again, his inflamed gaze meets mine.

"Isabella, do you not realize what I have done this night? I have endangered my wife and my child."

"You have not."

"Aye," he nods miserably. "I have. I have. And I can tell myself 'twas done to save scores of men, but it does not change the salient fact."

"Edward." I swallow thickly and reach up to cradle his handsome yet despondent face. "Edward, my love, I was not in any danger. This is what you must understand. I was with perhaps the only other man in this world besides you who would set my life before his."

He snorts in disgust, keeping his gaze straight ahead. "Did I not prove that perfectly this eve?" he asks mockingly.

"Aye, you did," I insist. "By not keeping to our plan, and by coming to get me, you proved you would set my life before yours, even though 'twas not necessary. You, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie, and I, we planned everything well, and my father believed me because most of what I said…most of what I said was the truth. And though it pains me much that I had to lead him astray," I say, my voice breaking and my hold on his face tightening, "I would do so again if it meant helping those men…and helping you."

Still, he shakes his head miserably.

"'Tis no wonder you accused me earlier of being no better than James or John Andre, when I send you into the lion's den to assist me in righting a wrong I committed."

"Stop this, Edward." Now, I fist his hair and give his head a good shake. "I am sorry I said such a thing, and you did not send me anywhere. You railed and howled against it, and 'twas only on the insistence of Jasper and myself that you finally relented, and apparently only long enough for Rosalie and me to make it halfway to town before you gave chase! I was nowhere near a lion's den. Good Lord, Edward, my father is second only to you in his care of me! 'Twas why I suggested such a scheme in the first place! 'Twas the perfect solution, and I thought you finally accepted it! Now, he, James, and most of the regiment shall be away from the prison long enough for Jasper and the men to rescue the militia. What is more, Father's regiment shall head in the opposite direction from where your General Washington shall await Jasper, the men, and the weaponry. The militia shall be freed, the General shall get more men and weaponry to help free Boston from the siege…and no one I care for need be hurt."

His head continues shaking side to side. "And all it took was my sending my expecting wife into danger. Never again, Isabella. Never again."

"I was not in danger, and you cannot say never again, for you do not know if-"

Finally, his eyes meet mine, but the determination burning within them does nothing to set me at ease.

"I do know, Isabella. I do know. And I say never. again."

Our gazes remain locked, neither one of us flinching nor blinking. I am not sure how long this lasts before Emmett approaches.

"Edward, we must go. Once Jasper and the rest of our men free the militia, General Washington shall be waiting for us."

I choke back the sob threatening to escape, for despite all which has occurred this night, 'tis still not done, not by half. And there is absolutely nothing I can do to assist with the next part of the endeavor other than to stay home with the rest of the women and with the men too young to accompany Emmett and Edward.

We have argued most violently. We have disagreed. Yet, in the next moment, my husband pulls me into his arms and against his chest, holding me as tightly as I know he dares. Heedless of all awaiting him, he slides his hands 'round the nape of my neck and presses his lips to mine hard, his breath mixing with mine as I cling to his neck. We speak quickly and against one another's mouths.

"I love you more than I know how to express, my wife-"

"I know you do, Edward. As do I-"

"Forgive me for what I have put you through-"

"There is nothing to forgive-"

"'Twill be a long while before I can forgive myself. And yet, it does not end with this, does it? For I must leave you again now, and make all the pleas of you I made months ago." He places a hand on my belly, and a quiet whimper escapes me. "If I do not return, tell our babe it was loved by his or her father."

"I shall," I choke.

His eyes search mine, and in his, I see there is so much more he wishes to say, we both wish to say. But in this short marriage of ours, we have never had sufficient time. I find myself wondering if we ever shall.

In place of more words, he kisses me again, swiftly yet with a lingering passion which remains even as he pulls away and walks off. The men have hitched Aro and Caius to the waiting wagon full of weapons. Duncan waits further down the road with his own wagonful of weaponry. Vaguely do I stop to think that with her father gone, and town in disarray, Katrina shall be my unwanted guest.

Edward, Emmett, and the men who shall go with them climb atop the wagon, and with a final look my way, they head down the hill and toward a waiting General Washington.

"Come, dearest," Rosalie says. "You need your rest. It has been a long night."

'Tis only when I feel the heavy woolen cloak Mrs. Clearwater wraps around me, and both women lead me into the house, that I realize I have stood in the darkness…for a long while.

"And yet, there are longer nights to come."

A/N: Thoughts?

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FYI, for those of you who enjoyed my story, 'Begin Again,' I'll be posting a short sequel to it toward the end of the summer, entitled 'Begin Again...Again.' More info as well as a teaser can be found on my Facebook page. :)

Have a great weekend!