Hello and welcome to so many new readers! So many of you have loved Isabella's and Esme's close bond already.

A girl was under her mother's wing for the first few years of her social life. She used her mother's visiting cards, or that of another female relative if her mother was dead. This same person usually served as her chaperone, as a single girl was never allowed out of the house by herself, especially in mixed company.

...

September 13th 1843

Isabella Swan

I despised going into the village, even though it was small and always almost empty. The people that were there always had an opinion to share with others, their business or not, and didn't mind if they made you feel uncomfortable or not.

Everyone would stare at me and whisper behind cupped hands, but I could do nothing about it. Some would pity me and the situation I was in and others would look down their noses at me.

A young lady, if you could call me that, should never walk out without a chaperone, but I had no choice in the matter and the sooner they realized that, the sooner they could find some other poor and unsuspecting soul to gossip about.

And in any case, I had pigs and a bullock to collect from the abattoir and it would do no good to pay for someone else to do the job as it would bring in less income and we needed every spare shilling available.

I could do my fair share of chores, but killing animals was something I would not do myself, even down to the chickens and ducks, I could not do it myself. I could hang, gut, pluck and prepare the meat, but the actual act of killing was not something I could comprehend. Rabbits were even worse. I had one as a pet when I was Charles's age and since then, I found it hard to see them as meat for the table.

It did not matter much how I thought about their monetary value, I could not find myself changing my views.

I did have some sensitivity, despite my sometimes-cold appearance in life.

It started not two years ago when papa died.

It was unexpected as he was not too old and had his health while in his prime, but when the influenza hit, nothing could be done for him.

God took him and we were left to carry on his work or end up in the poor house; and that was something mamma and I could not let happen.

I cried once, in the darkness of my room. I grieved for him that one night, but after that, I could not. I could not show weakness when I was needed to be strong. I remember being in mourning clothes and followed the rituals of mourning for him, but my work continued.

I needed to be strong for my mamma now and it would not do well to sit and mope as nothing would get done and nothing would be solved.

She and young Charles needed me, and I took my strength and comfort from that.

I knew from a young age that I would not amount to much, being the daughter of a poor farmer on a tenant's income, but I did not let that get me down.

Papa had taught me my words and letters in the evenings, after all our chores had been done, but that was as far as it went. I knew how to read, of course, but I hardly had the time to read the bible on Sundays, let alone reading for pleasure.

I should have learned to lace and needlepoint, but what was the point of expressing a desire to needlepoint an example if no intended suitor or his family would see it? I was not in a position to marry and it was as simple as that. I had other responsibilities to attend to and I had no dowry to offer.

My duty was to my family and our landlord. I was to provide an income to pay the rent, have enough food on our plates over the harsher months of the year and to make sure that Charles grew up strong enough to carry on our work when it was his time.

I had no dreams beyond that. I did not care for love or marriage as they were simple dreams for simple people, and I had no time to dream them.

I was practical.

Dreams got you nowhere in life, it was as simple as that.

And that was a good thing.

I knew that I should not marry, so I had no concerns over being a wife, producing children or anything of the like. All I had to do was to raise Charles in the way my father would have wished and be there for when he was schooled and found a wife. I would then be his spinster sister who would still do her fare share to cover the costs that I would incur by living under his roof and help look after any children he had.

Again, I was a practical person.

"Isabella," Lady Cullen's soft voice cut through my thoughts as I stood by the cart near the abattoir.

It was a normal thing for me. Emmett would heard the animals here, and I would wait until the deed was done and they were barely bled and then the carcasses were loaded back up onto the cart for me to take home and prepare.

"Good morning, Lady Cullen," I said politely with a curtsy.

Normally she never permitted me to curtsy to her, but we were in the village with spectators and as much as I didn't care for them, I did not want Lady Cullen to be talked about.

"Happy returns, young lady," she smiled wickedly at me and I so much wanted to roll my eyes, but I would never be so disrespectful as to do such a thing with her if I could help it.

"Thank you, Lady Cullen, even if that is only a half truth," I smiled as she shook her head.

"Your Birthday is very much a date that should be celebrated and if not for you, but for your mother and young Charles. How is she this week?" her tone changed from light to sorrowful.

"She has become weaker," I said softly as I turned my eyes to the ground.

"You can do all that you can do, Isabella, and nothing more," she replied kindly as she linked arms with me.

My eyes shot up to hers, worried about what people would say.

I was but a farm girl and Lady Cullen was the next thing to royalty, in fact, to have a title, you must be some sort of royal, by relation, by blood. It was not a title that you could obtain with money from your coffers.

"Do not concern yourself about what they think, Isabella. Their small minds breed small village gossip and that is all," she said gently as we started to walk down the muddy footpath.

I remained quiet, with my head down in the hope of people noticing me, but I doubted very much that they did. Anything Lady Cullen did was paid attention to, no matter how small.

"I was wondering if you would do me a favor? I need someone to help me take some things to the village dance next week and I was hoping that you could bring some of your preserves and pickles. I would pay you for them, of course, but I do so wish that we had more food there for the poorer families," she whispered conspiratorially, and I knew what she was doing.

For me to attend, even to help set up or provide sustenance, I would have to dress the part. Even the servants had to wear their best gowns and suits because of Lord and Lady Cullen's presence at the event. Everyone wore their best if they were to be in attendance.

I was sure that they would not care how people were dressed, but yet again, if society says, society does.

She also brought up the point of the poorer families and she knew that I would always help out where I could.

I was lucky enough, if you could call it that, to be a little better off than some families around here and if I had anything spare, I was always happy to give it.

"I would be happy to send either Emmett or Thomas over with some supplies, but please do not ask me to attend," I pleaded as we turned the corner and walked towards the bookstore.

Many a day I found myself outside this building, gazing at the beautiful leather-bound books. Old and new prints mingled together on the shelves, ready to be bought and fawned over until the pages had crinkled and yellowed.

"Isabella, may I be truthful with you?" Lady Cullen asked as we walked to a stop.

"Of course," I replied, somewhat unsure of her tone.

"I have always wanted a daughter. God took four from me and gave me two strong sons in their stead, as you may know, but I craved a daughter, even to this day. I tell you this, not because I want to claim you from your mother, but to ask you to humor a sad woman. I have always wanted to play dress up with a girl, to braid her long hair and see her walk in my shoes that were too high for her. I know now that I will never have that chance, but maybe someday, down the road in your life, you could look to me as another mother, a woman who you can tell all to, to have trust in?" She said a tone that was in between sadness and reverence.

"I have long forgotten, despite my young age, what it is like to be a daughter. I have many labels as you well know, but daughter does not seem to fit at the present time. Maybe, maybe in the future, I could find a friend in that title again," I said honestly as I turned my stinging eyes to the window.

It was not common knowledge that Lady Cullen had lost children, but mamma had spoken briefly of it to Mrs. Cope many moons ago. I knew, obviously, that they had two sons, Master Edward and Master Jasper, but the village very rarely saw them. They lived in town for the majority of the year because business kept them there, but the hunting season brought them home. I also knew that Master Edward had lost his wife around the time that papa lost his own life, but nothing much was spoken of it.

"Then how about you let this sad lady buy a present for a daughter that is celebrating an important birthday?" she hedged and before I could respond, she took my hand and led me inside the small bookstore and towards the clerk who would serve us.

I could have thrown a tantrum in the bookstore if it were not for a few other customers.

Lady Cullen had insisted on teaching me the classics and in order to do that, she purchased the full collection of Jane Austen books that had first been published at least thirty years prior. They were leather-bound in a beautiful royal blue color and I was afraid to touch them.

"Books are meant to be read, loved, and explored, Isabella. They are not decorations to make a shelf look pretty. You have to learn from them and in some cases, let them shape you a little." she smiled as she walked me back to the cart just as it was being loaded.

I left her in the village with a promise to read at least the first chapter of one of the books before her next visit at the end of the week and although I found very little time, I made that promise to her, and myself.

This is just a quick one to get into the minds of Isabella and Esme. Their bond is so tight. A mother in desperate need of a daughter and a young girl in desperate need to be just a young girl, with no responsibilities and to be cared for herself.

If I get time tonight, I'll post another chapter. It's with Edward and Carlisle's POVs, so you can get into their minds a little.