Chapter Two

~.~

The Endless Waters were cool and dark, a balm to her aching heart.

A decade had passed. Maybe two. She wasn't really sure any longer.

She haunted the coasts of England, waiting for that small tug on her heart that would tell her he was near, but though she roamed inland for days and sometimes weeks at a time, crisscrossing the land in endless loops, she never felt it. Again and again, circling the Isle, until her aching heart weighed so heavily, it was hard to move.

Despair was dangerous for her kind. Its drugging pull into the dark ... so sweetly tempting at times. It would be so easy to let herself Fade. One small step forward and then a long, soft fall into oblivion. Into a sleep from which she would not wake until her soul was reborn. But what would that avail her? She would still be haunted by these memories, even in the Afterworld, still feel this restless, relentless ache to be reunited with her love. And it would only be worse for the delay.

What if she did not find him in this lifetime? That terror haunted her dreams. Or what if he had been given to another by the time she found him? Humans married off their children young, and no matter how deeply she loved him, she could not ask him to break his vow to another in order to be with her. In sooth, it would be best if she never revealed herself to him, if she found him already wed to another. He would always feel the restless ache in his heart that something was missing, but he would not have his memories re-awakened unless she revealed herself to him, and would not have to know the agony of their separation. She would have to bear it alone, hoping his next lifetime would allow them to be reunited.

Outside of her dreams, which she could not control, Bella could not bear to think about the possibility. Her nightmares woke her screaming some nights. And then she would weep helplessly until she fell asleep again, the tears drying on her cheeks.

She would find him. She must find him. Surely, the gods would not be so cruel ...

In between her searches, she visited with her own kind, but there was no happiness to be found there, either. Since her lengthy time on land, and becoming soul-bound to a human man, Bella was no longer like her selkie friends and relatives, who spent their carefree days in play and pleasure. They were loving and consoling of her heartbreak, but they didn't know what to do for her, except for try to coax her into the games she was no longer interested in playing. She didn't want to take a lover or dance with the other girls in the surf. She found herself at the fringes, a sorrowing shadow, and she knew she was discomfiting them.

And so she swam away, into the deep, lonely waters where her only companions were the odd fish that lived at the depths where the sunlight didn't reach. And there she stayed, until the longing drove her back to shore to search again. There she roamed, endlessly searching for any sign he was near, until the frustration and the noise drove her back to the quiet depths of the sea ... an endless dreary cycle.

Tonight, she had stopped at a tavern in Nottinghamshire. She wanted to sleep in a bed again, she had decided. For a moment, upon waking, she might think he was beside her. It would be painful once she realized it wasn't true, reaching out her fingers to touch the cold sheets beside her, but that fuzzy, soft moment before coming to the realization would be worth it.

"I got a letter from your cousin who's with the Brownists in Leyden," she overheard. The man was seated at a table in the tap room, surrounded by a group of younger men. From the resemblance, Bella supposed they were his sons. All were dressed in homespun wool and they ate their bowls of stew like they hadn't been fed in weeks. Working men, hungry after a long day in the fields.

"They thought Archbishop Tobias Matthew would give them more freedom to worship as they pleased," one of the younger men said around a mouthful of bread. "He has always seemed sympathetic to the Brownists."

"Bah, fools they are," the older man said. "I said to your cousin, Thomas, 'Just attend church as the law requires. 'Twill not harm you.' But he refused for the sake of his conscience. Would not pay the shilling fine, either. I expected to hear he had been arrested any day. He left with the rest of them, and they've formed a little settlement of their own in Holland, keeping to themselves as much as possible. A sorry thing it is, for your aunt says they are trying to make another England there. But no one can ever re-create merrie old England on foreign soil."

The men raised their mugs to that and drank.

"Holland," one of the other men mused. "I could not imagine leaving England." The average Englishman saw their country as the center of the civilized world and exile from it was a fate on par with execution, as far as they were concerned.

"Nor I," his father agreed. "King James is not our Good Queen Bess, that much is true. But I could not leave England for anything."

Bella had to smile at that, glad Elizabeth still lived in the hearts of her people. She had not been a perfect queen, but she had loved her kingdom and its people and had done all she could to see it prosper. Compared to her sister and to other monarchs of the day, she was remarkably tolerant in her religious views. King James seemed unable to please either faction, and for the Brownists, the Hampton Court Conference had been the death of their hopes. The only concession they had been able to get from the King was his agreement to make a new translation of the English Bible.

As Bella headed upstairs to her lonely bed, she began to think on what the man had said about Leyden ... Was it possible ...? Could that be why she had felt no sense Edward was near despite the number of times she had traveled the length and breadth of the Isle?

The gods were kind. Souls were usually reborn near the area they had spent their previous lifetime, and so Bella had concentrated her search on this realm. But what if Edward's family had emigrated? She had never considered the possibility. Her heart sped up at the idea. She could go to Holland. She could start off tomorrow. She could be within days of finding him!

It was difficult to force herself to lie down in the bed when she wanted to run for the sea, to tear off her dress at the water's edge and dive into the waves, slipping into her selkie form with a quicksilver motion, the magic tingling along her skin. She wanted to swim at her top speed, swim without stopping until she reached the Netherlands where her love might be. But before she went, she should stop and see the children again. If she found him in Holland, it might be years before she could return to England.

With a guilty start, she realized it had been a long while since she'd gone home to Cullen Hall. How long, she wasn't sure. As Ward had noted, her kind lost track of time easily. It would be easier to travel east, to the coast, and then swim south ... but it was in the opposite direction of where she longed to go.

Soon, she promised her heart, as she snuggled down into the pillows. Soon she would head north into the Cold Sea, and she would find him. Her love. Her soul.

~.~


Ward dropped his quill pen in shock when she came through the door. "Mother?" He blinked at her, his eyes wide in his slack face. "Mother, is it really you?"

Bella laughed and darted forward to pull him into a hug. "Aye, Ward, love. It's me."

"You look..." He pulled back to stare down into her face. "I know that it's the magic of your kind, but you look so young. Did any of the servants recognize you?"

She shook her head. "Some of the older ones stared at me a bit, but they accepted the story that I'm your cousin, a relative of the old Dowager Duchess."

"Couldn't you... ah... change back to how you looked when father was alive?"

She smiled. "It doesn't work that way, alas. I aged along with him, and now he's gone, the glamour is broken."

Ward's eyes sparkled with tears. "I still miss him. Anne and I have worked hard to try to make him proud of us, to try to live up to his legacy."

Bella hugged him again. "I know he would be, darling."

"Come, sit! Tell me where you've been."

Bella did, but her tales were uninteresting. Her long, lonely wanderings made for poor conversation. She was more interested in how the family fared. Ward had to break the news to her that her daughters Elizabeth and Mary were both gone now, resting in the Cullen chapel near their father. She should have known, of course ... They had all been in their fifties at the time of Edward's death, old age according to the standards of their day. They had lived long, happy lives, longer than their expected life spans, but it was still a painful shock to know they had passed from this world. She wept as Ward held her, and he gently coaxed her from her tears by telling her of children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, steering her thoughts back to life and the Cullen dynasty she and Edward had created.

Their large and unusually healthy family was thriving, for Bella's selkie magic linkered in the blood of her descendents, protecting the family she loved. To others, the Cullens seemed especially blessed by God with healthy, robust children who survived the myriad ailments which killed nearly half of babies before they reached adulthood. And a happy family they were, too, with strong bonds of affection. One of Bella and Edward's legacies was that no Cullen child was ever married off against their will, much to the perpetual amusement of the neighbors.

The estates prospered under Ward and Anne's careful management. As Bella had predicted, Anne made a fine Duchess once she got over her initial intimidation, administering the estate, educating her children, and expanding Bella's charitable efforts. Bella's schools had become respected institutions which now attracted the children of the nobility by virtue of its exceptional teachers, though the majority of the pupils were still the children of the poor, as Bella had intended. Her poorhouses were thriving as places which trained people in useful trades, and provided primary education for their children while the parents worked. King James had even built a few new poorhouses of his own, modeled on Bella's. It was the greatest tribute to her time as Duchess that Bella could have asked for.

As they talked, her eyes drifted to the portrait above the fireplace, the one Edward had painted to replace the one by John Bettes the Elder, the one lost in the fire that had destroyed the old Cullen Hall. Elizabeth and Ward stood at Bella's side and baby Mary had been added to the group, lying on Bella's lap. John Bettes had been a student of the great Holbein, and his painting had the same luminescent realism as his master's work. This one had been done by Steven van der Meulen and Bella had always thought they looked stiff and awkward, but Edward had loved that painting.

"I have something for you, mother," Ward said, following the direction of her gaze. He went over to a cabinet and withdrew a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. "It was actually a gift to me from Robert Cecil. I don't know if it originally belonged to the Queen and she gave it to him before she died, or how he happened to acquire it. He did not say when he he sent it to me. But as soon as I saw it, I knew it should be yours. I've been keeping it to give you when you returned."

His voice held no judgement or reproach, but she felt guilty nonetheless for how long it had been since her last visit. How many years had he been waiting to give this to her?

He untied the string that held the bundle together and revealed a large gold brooch. In the center of it, a large letter "C" was picked out in emeralds. Ward reached down and opened the clasp and Bella gasped. Inside was a beautiful portrait of Edward as he had looked at the beginning of Elizabeth's reign. In his thirties, he was middle-aged by the standards of the day, but still so handsome it took her breath away. His beautiful green eyes shimmered from the portrait and seemed to pierce into her own.

She couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Bella dropped into a nearby chair and sobbed, the heels of her hands pressed over her eyes.

"Mother! Mother, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you- I'll put it away." Ward started to re-wrap the bundle and she seized his hand. "No! It's beautiful. I just... I miss your father so much."

"You've found no trace of him?" Ward's eyes held sympathy, but also resignation. Edward had told his son of Bella's belief he would be re-born into this world, though Edward didn't entirely believe it himself. She could see that Ward had no expectation her quest would be successful, though he had hoped for her sake she would find something that would make her happy again.

She smiled at him through the tears. "It is why I've come. I'm going further away in my search. To Holland ... and beyond. I will find him. I know you do not believe-"

Ward knelt down in front of her and took her hand. "I want to."

Bella cupped his cheek with her other hand and looked down into his eyes. She wished he had inherited his father's bright green, but Ward's eyes were nearly identical to her own, large and dark brown. They were surrounded by lines now and his hair was almost completely silver, though she could still see some hidden strands of the dark red it had been. She realized with shock that he was almost seventy now. It didn't seem possible.

She smiled at him, a little wistfully. Time passed so quickly for mortals. She had missed so much ... But had she been subject to the span of a mortal lifetime, she would have been long passed by now, would never have seen her son in his elder years.

"No," he said, and he smiled back. "Have no regrets, mother. You and father gave us a life of joy. Because of you, father allowed me to marry Anne, and my life could not have been happier. And Elizabeth? Would any other noble parents have allowed her to choose the life that suited her? Or Mary, who married so 'beneath' her to a man she adored? It was because of who you are we were able to have these happy lives. None of us could begrudge that you must be who you are now, searching for our father, though we always missed you dearly."

In her mind, she saw an hourglass, its last grains dwindling and fresh tears flowed from her eyes.

"I'm glad you've come," he said, understanding. "I saved the portrait for you, but that's not all I wish for you to take on your journey." He went to the cabinet again and withdrew a bag. She heard the clink of coins and started to protest.

"Mother, I want you to have it," he insisted. "You do not know what you'll find in Holland, what you may need to begin a new life. If you find my father ... If you find my father, I want your new life with him to be comfortable, not one of struggle. I've left instructions in my will for any woman identifying herself as Isabella Cullen to have access to funds, should she return to England at any point. There is a banker in London who has a box for you which will be kept in perpetuity. All you need is to say a certain phrase to him, and he will release it to you."

"What is the phrase?"

A tear fell from Ward's eye and rolled down his gently wrinkled cheek as he smiled at her. "Love is eternal."

~.~


Before she left, Bella went to the chapel.

She had to pause in the doorway and take deep breaths before she could step inside. It was dark and silent within. The host was not reserved here, and so no young priest had the duty of staying with it to pray. The only light came from the cool moonbeams that spilled through the large windows to pool on the stone floor. The soft whisper of her slippers across the stone was the only sound.

She stopped before the altar and looked down at the carved stone slab in the floor.

THE REVEREND FATHER JASPER DIED 1587 IN THE 61 YEAR OF HIS AGE
ALICE HIS WIFE DIED 1592 IN THE 59 YEAR OF HER AGE

O, those whom death again did wed
This grave's the second marriage-bed.
For though the hand of Fate could force
'Twixt soul and body a divorce,
It would not sever man and wife,
Because they both lived but one life.
Peace, good reader, do not weep;
Peace, the lovers are asleep.
They, sweet turtles, folded lie
In the last knot that love could tie.
Let them sleep, let them sleep on,
Till the stormy night be gone,
And the eternal morrow dawn;
Then the curtains will be drawn,
And they wake into a light
Whose day shall never die in night.
-.-

Alice, Bella's dearest friend ... Through all of the trials of Bella's life as Duchess, Alice had been there. Stalwart and loving, Alice had worked hard to help Bella with the charitable aspects of the estate. And she had helped Japer with the struggles of his faith. Jasper had been a Catholic in all but one aspect: his love for Alice. Throughout his life, he could never shake the guilt of betraying his vows, and he could never completely reconcile the Anglican faith to the one with which he identified, especially as Queen Elizabeth had introduced more Protestant elements to the church over the years. But he had done his best to remain loyal to his Queen as head of the Church and obey her laws, even as he struggled with his own conscience.

Bella knew what Alice would say of her search for Edward. She could see it in her mind's eye. Alice would look up at Bella, her eyes shining from her small, earnest face and say that Bella needed to trust in God that he would lead her to Edward when the time was right. Jasper would also advise patience, but he had always seemed to have an abundance of that particular virtue.

Bella knelt down and pressed her hand to the stone slab for a moment. Would she see them again, too? Alice and Jasper weren't selkies, but to her, they had seemed soul-bound. She hoped no matter where they were, they were still together, as happy as they had been during their life here.

She stood and headed over to the wall where two new tombs had been added in her absence. LADY ELIZABETH read the monument beneath the window. Her daughter's effigy was carved on its top, a book in her hand, the eyes transfixed on the page. A verse in Latin was below, praising her learning, and Bella suspected it had been composed by Elizabeth herself. It was decorated with the Cullen coat of arms, fitting for the eldest daughter of a royal Duke. She pressed a kiss to the cold cheek of the effigy and rested her forehead there for a minute. Wherever Elizabeth had gone, she hoped there was a huge library at her disposal. She remembered that tiny, sad little girl whose eyes had lit up in excitement at Bella's bedtime stories, who soaked up love like a wilting flower in the rain, and Edward's tentative efforts to show her affection.

Beside her, a low stone rectangle, housing the mortal remains of Lady Mary and her husband, Henry. The top had an epitaph with their dates of birth and death. Simplicity, as Mary had chosen, though resting with her illustrious ancestors. Her children, those who were already gone, were buried in the churchyard with their own families. Bella caressed the lid, and rubbed away the tear that fell there with her sleeve. She had named her daughter after the sad Queen who never found the love she craved, but this Mary had a life of joy with her husband and children, as Bella had hoped.

Emmett and Rose ... Bella had always wished he would remarry and try to find happiness again, but Emmett's heart had been buried in that tomb long before the rest of him joined his wife. Only a few short years of happiness together... And Rose had given her life to save Bella. How had he not hated Bella for that? Like Jasper and Alice, Bella hoped he was with his Rose, wherever they might be. Bella wouldn't blame Rose if she didn't want to return to the world that had been such a hard place for her.

She finally approached the tomb she dreaded, the one that held her Edward. She expected it to shatter her heart again upon seeing it, but when she finally lifted her eyes to the effigy lying on top, she felt only the lingering sorrow of the lost of their old life. A soft breath puffed out of her and she laid a hand on its cool marble side. There had been no reason to fear it. He was not here. Tears fell to the floor in front of it, but they were not ones of anguish and despair. He was not here. Only the memories of their last life together.

She felt ... hope.

~.~


Holland.

Bella had been here once before, but it had been so long ago the land was then known as Frisia. She waited until the cover of darkness and padded up the muddy bank of the bay near Amsterdam to the treeline. Looking around to make sure she was still unseen, she opened the bag tied around her waist. Ward had given her an oilskin bag, and the items within it were wrapped in additional layers of waterproofed fabric. Further proof he had inherited his father's careful nature. She checked the portrait locket first, the most important item to her, and found it secure and dry, even after such a long swim. The letters of introduction, and bank documents with it were safe as well.

Below that packet was a bundle that held a gown and shift, which she wriggled into behind a tree. The dress was not the gown of a Duchess, but of a gentlewoman in mourning, made of black velvet, heavily embroidered in black silk thread. It was an expensive fabric, because a true black was very difficult color to accomplish with the natural dyes of the day, and velvet itself was very costly. Instead of the high, elaborate ruffs of her days at court, she had one of the new softer "falling collars" of lace. Much easier to transport and still look respectable, her son had said. Bella laughed softly as she donned it. Even with his unconventional upbringing, Ward was much like his father in his propriety, as well. The gown was fine enough not to raise suspicion if Bella spent her gold, but plain enough not to offend the somber-dressing Dissenters.

Bella sat down on a fallen log to slip on her stockings, and tied them above the knee with their ribbon garters. Queen Elizabeth had been given a pair of silk stockings at one point during her reign-the first pair of silk stockings in England- and had fallen in love with them. She sent Bella dozens of pairs, insisting they were far superior to linen. Bella hadn't had a preference, but to be polite, had thanked her profusely, and every year after that, Bess had sent her another shipment, whether she needed them or not. The memory made Bella smile. She had a feeling she'd never don her stockings again without thinking of Bess and her zeal for silk hosiery.

Into the bag, she put her dark brown fur pelt. It was small, as soft, warm, and supple as a living creature, and in a way, it was alive. It was part of her, part of her magic. Without it, she could not transform into her seal form. Since she had gotten it back after Edward's death, she had not let it out of her sight. The worst thing possible would be for it to be stolen from her now, binding her to another and keeping her away from her love until it was voluntarily returned to her. She tucked it into the bag and tied it around her waist under her skirts, where it would be safe.

From Amsterdam, she took a coach to Leyden. The elderly woman who shared it with her spoke German, one of the human tongues Bella had picked up over the years, and knew of the English who had moved into their city. She was able to direct Bella to the area of the city where they were staying. She wasn't very complimentary of the group. They were insular and unfriendly, she said, and had no intentions of assimilating into the community. Many did not know Dutch and had no interest in learning it, though they had tried to get employment in the textile mills. The community had set up a printing press, but it had folded a few years ago after a large portion of the group left for the colonies in the New World.

"Colonies?" Bella blurted.

"Ja, the English colonies," the woman said. "Their king would not give them a charter, but he said he would not object to them building on his lands. They found an investor and the first of them left... ah, it would be about three years ago now, back in '20. More will be joining them soon."

Disquieted, Bella sat back against the seat. She would find him, she repeated to herself. It might just take a little longer than she had expected. But she would find him.

The English Dissenters had found a home on the Kloksteeg near an old church, in a small row of houses. Bella took a room at a nearby inn and settled down in the tap room to listen to the chatter, hoping to hear a name she recognized or see a familiar face. People were not always given the same names they had carried in their former lives; parents sometimes had a name already chosen they wanted their child to bear. Nor did they always look the same, but souls tended to reform themselves into familiar shapes and remain close to those they loved, sometimes lingering until they could be reborn together.

When she overheard a group of men quietly conversing in English, she approached their table.

"How might I assist you, Madame?" the eldest man eyed her, his gaze somewhat suspicious.

"I'm looking for this man." She showed him the portrait in her locket.

Bella's selkie senses were sharper than a human's ans she could detect the faint stiffening of his muscles, though his face was expressionless. He recognized the image, she knew. His gaze dropped to her waistline, likely looking for the tell-tale bulge of pregnancy. "What of him?"

"Please, sir... he is family. If you know anything-"

He sat back. "I know of a man who looks somewhat like him, but this man is younger."

Bella's heart nearly stopped. "Edward?" Tears filled her eyes even as a smile lit up her face. Seeing it, the suspicion left the man's eyes and and he smiled in return, recognizing sheer joy when he saw it.

"Aye, that is his name. Son of Carlisle Masen."

Bella had to sit down. She had a name. She was-

"But he is not here any longer," the man said. "He and his parents left for the New World some time ago on the Anne."

Bella took a deep breath. She had prepared herself for this since the old woman told her about the move to the colonies. She was so close ... so close ...

She purchased passage on the next ship heading to the New World, the Katherine, though it was agonizing to have to wait until July to leave. She could swim there herself much more quickly. But she wouldn't be able to conceal the fact she hadn't arrived on a ship in such a small population.

While she waited, she wrote to Ward to tell him of her plans and before she knew it, large crates and trunks had arrived, full of the things her son thought she would need for her new life in the colonies. She peeked in one of them and laughed. Tapestries! She wasn't even sure she would have a house over there. But all of these things had been picked by Ward with love, and she would cherish them for that reason.

She knew, as she boarded the ship, that she was unlikely to return in his lifetime. The only contact she would have would be with letters. And soon, when he passed from this world, that would cease, and the Cullen descendants would go on, unaware their ancestor still walked the earth, loving them from afar, proud of all they had accomplished and would continue to accomplish as the years passed. Perhaps one day, she would return, to walk where the ashes of Cullen Hall had once been, and to see what the next generations had built.

The ship slowly pulled from the pier and she looked back toward her last sight of Europe, her last view of the old world. She watched until the thin strip of land has disappeared from view, then went down to her stateroom which had a small window. There, she lay on her bed and watched outside, staring out at the waves, waiting for her new world to appear.


~.~

Notes:

- The verse on Alice and Jasper's tomb "An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife, Who Died and Were Buried Together" comes from The Book of Elizabethan Verse, 1906, attributed to R. Crashaw

- The "Brownists" were part of the group we would one day call the "Pilgrims." They were named after a preacher named Robert Browne, who was one of the founders of the Congregational Church. Over the years, it split into several denominations, part of which re-united into what's known today as the United Church of Christ, with about a million members in the United States.

- "Leyden" was how Leiden was spelled at the time. The English had a group of houses there. One was purchased by three church members for 8,000 guilders to house the church members who couldn't speak Dutch and couldn't find employment as a result.

- I'm not actually sure what month the Katherine left for the New World. I've been unable to find a reference to the date it departed. The ship arrived in Plymouth in September, and the voyage usually took around three months, so I'm guessing it left in either late June or early July.