Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except the creeptastic moves I play on these characters. Muahaha!

"Of course." He swallowed the venom as he inhaled her breaths. "My parents, they were very affectionate…"

Her hand stroked his arm repeatedly as her coaxing eyes settled on him. She would be patient, for she genuinely cared to know. Unfortunately, Edward hadn't much to tell. He didn't remember his human life in detail, but only in the form of indiscriminate faded memories.

"My father, Edward Masen, the first, was a barrister. My mother's name was Elizabeth." His brows furrowed in deep concentration as he tried to recollect his human memories. "I am told that I resemble her… more than my father. Her hair was the same colour as mine, but the untidiness of it was from my father's side. It was the sole reason he wore it short and trimmed."

A smile ghosted across his face as he recalled a part of his childhood. "As a boy, I used to detest going to the barber's. My father often chastised me about my wayward locks. My mother would always defend me…

"It was all a long time ago… and I can't remember much about them, Bella, in all honesty," he gave up with a resigned sigh. "Other than their death."

Isabella had compassion in her eyes and a sad expression that told him that she could perhaps understand the gravity of his loss.

He didn't have the heart to tell her that she could never understand it completely… especially the feeling of waking up vacant, with only a sparse recollection of who he used to be, and none of what he had become.

"How?" she coaxed. "How did they die?"

"Our carriage… it tumbled down a hill. I was the sole survivor," he answered, omitting the part that he had actually not survived as a human.

"Oh." She retreated, her expression piteous and guilty. "I-I am extremely sorry. I shouldn't have prodded. I know how much it hurts, the sudden loss, everything. And you must have been so young at that time. It was very thoughtless of me to ask."

Edward shook his head to dismiss her needless apology. He was happy to have told her what she had asked and relieved that he didn't have to divulge the intricate details.

"Bella, it is all right," he said, cradling her cheek in his hand. "I'm fine. It has been a long time, so the memory is very faint and confusing. It is almost as though it happened in another lifetime. Carlisle—I mean, Uncle Carlisle and Aunt Esme have been very kind to me. They filled the void left after my parents died."

"So, that is why Alice refers to you as her brother, not her cousin. You seem very close to all of them." She stated it as a fact, not a query.

He nodded, wondering if her need to know him better was satiated or not. "They are the only family I have, other than you, of course."

She smiled at him, and he felt the exponential warmth of her affection. He felt almost human.

"Why did you leave England, then?" she asked with renewed curiosity, and Edward's high spirits sank.

He grappled in his mind for a viable answer while she looked on patiently, awaiting his reply.

"I don't know…" he sighed, gripping his hair in frustration. "I just wanted to get out of there, get away from the mundane and stuffy environs of London, seek adventure here in the new and promising land."

Isabella reached for his hand and attempted to dislodge his iron grip on his hair. He acquiesced, letting her pull his hand back into hers.

"Did you have a disagreement with your family?"

Her question brought a jolt to his senses, alerting him to be careful. "You can say that. Yes, in a way, I rebelled against my uncle and sought to create my own stronghold in a new place."

"Did he expect something else from you? Did he have aspirations for you?" One after the other, her questions lurked closer to truth, filling Edward with a sense of unease.

"Uh… yes," he answered, lowering his gaze to their joined hands. "He wanted me to pursue his own profession, that is, to become a doctor."

"Oh," she mumbled in deep thought, "and you didn't want it. It's understandable."

"How did you know, I mean, why did you ask?" He peered inquisitively at her, worried that his family might have given away too many of his secrets somewhere in their past interactions.

"You are always under some sort of strain whenever your family is around," she replied. An innocent observation on her part, but a deadly one for Edward. "There is an awkwardness in your interactions with them, especially with Dr. Cullen."

He smiled dejectedly at her sharp observations. "You now know why."

"That was very… strange on Dr. Cullen's part," she remarked, suddenly very sullen. "How could you have pursued medicine when you yourself had inconsistent health?"

"Pardon?" He almost recoiled at her words.

"I'm sorry." She blushed suddenly and turned to her needlework, wrapping it back into her sewing box. "I shouldn't have mentioned that…"

Then it occurred to him; she was talking about his supposed medical condition—the odd seizures. Albeit, they weren't remotely connected to a health problem.

"Bella, you don't have to apolog—Oh!" His words transformed into a gasp of shock as Isabella pricked her finger on the sewing needle, drawing blood.

"Ow!" She withdrew her finger from the cloth, her face contorted in shock and pain. "The needle. I forgot to pry it out."

Instinctively, she brought the jabbed finger to her mouth and began sucking on it.

Edward glared at her, frozen in his place, his hands trembling, itching to get a hold on her finger. Her blood sang to him, drowning out all the voices of reason, of the affection he held for her.

Nothing else concerned him in that moment, just her blood. The predator came roaring out of his human façade, and he was unable to keep him leashed.

"Edward?" she spoke in concern, withdrawing her finger from her mouth. Her innocent face grew drawn as she saw his deteriorating expression. "What is wrong, Edward?"

He didn't speak, he couldn't speak. Her finger… the tiny speck of blood on it was too mesmerizing for him to comprehend anything else.

A deep rumble resonated from his chest, attracting her attention. Her eyes widened.

"It's the seizure, isn't it? Oh, God!" She fumbled around him in panic, grabbing at his shoulders and telling him to calm down.

How could he be calm, when every muscle in his body yearned to attack her?

"Here, lie down." She tried to help him towards the bed, but he was frozen in place. He had stopped breathing, with much effort, and had locked his limbs in order to avoid pouncing on her.

"Leave," he growled, closing his eyes to remove the tempting vision of her pulsing veins. He could no longer stand the pull of her flowing, fresh blood.

"No," she refused, adamant in her stance, "I won't leave you, not in this condition."

"Bella," he muttered roughly, pleading in his heart for her to leave that very instant, "I'll be fine. Just… give me some time. Alone… I need to be alone."

"No, Edward," she replied firmly, "I can't let you suffer alone. I won't let you do that to yourself."

"You're doing nothing else but aggravating me by your presence!" He shook her hands off his shoulders, barely containing the violent urges of his monstrous side. "So help me here if you must, and just leave!"

Isabella cowered away from his shaking, enraged form. Her hurt was laid bare in her big, watery eyes, but she didn't respond in words.

Silently, she exited the room, leaving him in alone in his anguish as per his wishes.

Edward maintained a threadbare control on his ravenous impulses as he heard her depart. Still not breathing, he silently moved to his piano room, where her scent was less intimidating than anywhere else inside the manor.

The one window inside the piano room was thrown open, with Edward's head dangling outside it. It would take a while for him to calm down.

As much as he wanted to leave the manor, he couldn't. Isabella would notice, and then he wouldn't have an excuse to give her. After all, no sick man ever takes whimsical jaunts across a thick forest.

A tentative knock at the door tore him away from his maddening hunger.

A house attendant stood in the doorway, feeling nervous and apprehensive to approach him. Edward had been so preoccupied with his bloodlust that he was unable to hear her thoughts or her approaching footsteps.

"Yes?" he asked curtly, not bothering to turn around.

"Uh, Miss Webber is here," she announced, shuffling on her feet. "Mr. and Mrs. Webber left her here just minutes ago. She says they were in a hurry, and thus were unable to inform you prior to coming here."

Edward's eyes narrowed as he reached for Angela's mind. She was pacing to and fro downstairs, anxious and restive. It was about Henry Crawford again. Edward wished to throttle each and every person who reminded Isabella of him.

"Did you mention the same to the lady of the house?" he enquired, gentler in his tone.

"Uh, yes, Sir, I did. I thought I should inform you as well."

Edward sent the attendant away and closed his eyes to concentrate on calming himself.

He could hear Isabella approaching Angela downstairs. She was fidgeting nervously, even sniffling slightly. She must have cried again, and he knew why.

Despite her distressed state, Isabella patiently listened to Angela's account of her parents' hasty departure.

Apparently, Mr. Webber grew worried about Henry Crawford's absence from his usual whereabouts. He had perused all of his standard haunts, even his mistresses' residences, but he came back empty-handed.

So in a renewed effort to find him, he took off again, this time taking his reluctant wife along as well.

"But… has Mr. Webber alerted his immediate family? Perhaps, he is travelling and hasn't been able to communicate the same to your parents?" Isabella asked, her hands giving a slight tremble. It took copious amounts of air in her breaths to keep the trembling to a minimum.

"My father, the worried man that he was, got in touch with dear Mr. Crawford's sister, his wife, his friends and associates, and every soul he may have known," replied Angela, nibbling on a tart that Isabella had offered her. "He is worried that something happened to him on the way to Jefferson County, months ago, when he left just before the Fords' Ball. The day after he had dinner with us at your home, remember?"

Isabella coughed in response, hoping it would be enough for an answer.

"He wasn't even invited, but he had the audacity to accompany us to the dinner," Angela remarked bitterly, "when Mr. Swan had invited only us, the Webbers."

"Angela," Isabella cautioned, her voice lacking any strength, "Uncle never qualified. Everyone in your family was invited, and he was a part of your family."

"Yes, family, a putrid part of my family. I will never understand why he is even important to my father. He is just a distant cousin of his." Angela glared at the tart as though it had upset her. "Well, good riddance, if he did get lost, that is."

Isabella squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable at Angela's spitefulness for the departed man. Would she still be as spiteful if she ever got to know about his demise...? she thought to herself.

"You shouldn't say such foul words for a family member, distant relative or not."

Both Angela and Isabella turned their heads to see Edward advancing towards the sitting area.

He gave a polite greeting to Angela and then made himself comfortable on a sofa, as far away from Isabella as possible. Isabella didn't meet his eyes, but it didn't slip her observation that he was keeping a distance.

Angela proceeded to repeat to him everything she had told Isabella, and he listened quietly, looking quite interested.

His expression was neither grave nor amused, but somewhere between as he humouredly taunted Angela. "You have to bear with your family sometimes, whether or not it pleases you."

Angela became flustered under his scrutinizing eyes and persuasive tone. "I-I don't care. He is a foul man who deserves these foul words."

Isabella regarded Edward from the corner of her eye. From what she could see, he appeared to be perfectly calm and collected, far removed from the suffering, shaking man he had been only half an hour ago.

She didn't understand how he could recover so quickly from such a violent seizure. It didn't even look like a seizure for that matter, given the feral look Edward had in his eyes. Isabella would always be afraid of that look.

"Oh?" Edward arched his brow, clearly baiting Angela to divulge more. "A foul man? How come?"

"Umm, h-how are they going to search for him?" Isabella tried to veer the conversation back to its path. "Where was it you said he was headed?"

Edward's sharp eyes flickered to hers for a second, acknowledging the morbid secret they both held. Isabella's cheeks burned in mortification.

"He was headed to Jefferson County, but he wasn't going home, I believe. He had been visiting his newly acquired land around the Hoh River for quite some time—for oil tapping, as my father told me. I think he has a villa there as well, where one of his… er," Angela hesitated, stealing a glance at Edward, "acquaintances resides. The one he used to visit often."

"You seem to know a lot about a man you hate with such fiery passion." Edward chuckled, and Angela joined him after a flutter of confusion, covering her giggles in loud coughs.

"Well, as Issy says, he's family, and there's hardly anything that you can keep from your family. Sooner or later, the truth finds its way out, regardless of how sinister or embarrassing it is."

Edward stiffened at Angela's quip, but otherwise held his smile. Isabella's keen eyes didn't miss even the most minute of his mannerisms. He was not as blithe as he was portraying.

"You're deathly quiet, Issy," Angela noted, jolting Isabella out of her quiet scrutiny. She was watching her with curious eyes.

Isabella wasn't happy about being the centre of attention, given the still jittery state she was in. "I was actually listening to you two," she replied flippantly, adding a quiet laugh to compliment her light tone. "Your verbal sparring was quite entertaining, and I didn't have the heart to interrupt."

More giggles burst from Angela, and Isabella briefly speculated if Ben was to blame for her exceptionally cheerful disposition. She would have to question her privately.

"Why didn't you accompany your father in his search?" Edward asked, seemingly curious regarding Angela's stance on the matter.

"Oh, he did want me to come along as well, as though my mother wasn't enough, but I refused," Angela replied sourly. "Of what help would my company have been?"

Isabella cringed inwardly, hoping that Mr. and Mrs. Webber would return soon, since they weren't going to find Henry anywhere. At least, not alive. She wanted to end their misery by disclosing the truth about his death, but she knew Edward wouldn't be too happy about it.

"What if they are unable to find him?"

All colour drained from Isabella's face as Edward's question registered in her mind.

"I think then my father will pay a visit to the Sheriffs of both counties." Angela shrugged, looking least bothered about such a development. She indeed courted acute hatred for Henry. "My father won't rest until he finds Mr. Crawford."

Edward nodded, his face deceptively impassive.

"I hope my being here is not a hindrance to you." Angela appeared suddenly contrite, reluctant even, as she spoke again. "My parents preferred me here, living in your company, rather than staying at home alone. I apologise on their behalf, for their lack of concern for your privacy. I am actually thinking of heading back home."

"No, stay," Edward urged, smiling brilliantly at her. "We'd be pleased to have your company. What better chance would I ever get at hospitality? The manor has more than enough space to accommodate you without affecting our privacy. So please, be my guest."

"But…" Angela seemed to forget what she was saying, lost under the spell of his widening smile.

"And you're a close friend of Bella's," he continued, "I cannot be anything but pleased that you're here, keeping her company, especially when I'm away."

There was no argument left inside Angela. After a moment of deliberation, she nodded. Yet, Isabella noted the hesitance she showed upon agreeing to stay at the Masen manor. Having known her well as a friend, Isabella knew that she was keeping something from her.

All the same, Isabella noticed the knowing smirk that Edward courted right then, and it made her suspicious of him as well.

Then, abruptly, Edward excused himself to his study, citing the need to attend to some important affairs.

Isabella was left alone with Angela, and she took the opportunity to show her the guest rooms. Angela quickly chose one of them for her stay. Then she simply held Isabella as a prisoner in her room, to talk about Ben.

Angela's stay at the manor brought with it the vivaciousness that she possessed. Within two days as a guest, she had invited the Stanleys over for lunch and tea, with express permission from Isabella.

Edward didn't mind either, but then again, he wasn't the one to remain at the manor. In fact, he had decided to take a trip around Jefferson County, to see what proprietary avenues lay there.

Isabella wasn't in opposition to his travelling, but she was left feeling dejected in his wake. He hadn't been intimate with her ever since his most recent seizure had struck. In truth, he had stayed mostly distant. He either hid away in his study, or he was out keeping a watch over his various properties.

"So, did I ever tell you about my Aunt's neighbour?" asked Jessica, the younger of the two Stanley daughters.

"No, you didn't," Angela supplied, naturally intrigued by her hushed tone.

"Jessica, why must you narrate that story to everyone you meet?" Lauren, the elder Stanley sister, admonished. "You must refrain from it, now that Walter is betrothed in that family."

"But it's true!" Jessica argued, gesticulating with her hands.

"What is so interesting about your Aunt's neighbour?" Angela demanded, breaking into the sisters' ongoing argument.

"She was possessed," Jessica answered gravely, albeit too dramatically, "by a demon, they say."

Isabella wasn't sure whether Jessica was trying to humour them or if she was serious in her claim. Angela looked to be on the verge of giggles, which wasn't helping Isabella in her assessment of the situation.

"Don't laugh, Angela," Jessica reproved, her eyes narrowing, but Angela couldn't help herself. She burst into peals of mirth, almost spilling her tea on her bodice.

Lauren shook her head in dismay, muttering about her brother's ire if he ever found out about Jessica's gossiping ways.

But Jessica wasn't to be swayed. She went on to describe with intricate detail the whole phenomenon that affected a girl named Nettie Granville.

Apparently, Walter, the eldest of the Stanley siblings, had recently been affianced to Nettie's sister. This was the reason behind Lauren's insistent protests against the sharing of Nettie's tale.

Jessica took a careful sip of her tea before narrating further. "Even though she remained normal for the most part, there were peculiar instances of inexplicable, violent behaviour. You won't believe it, but her eyes even changed their colour when she was under the influence of the demon."

Isabella's eyes sharply wound up and trained directly on Jessica's animated face. Her description of the girl's possession sounded disturbingly familiar.

"She would shake violently and even attack the people who dared to stand too close to her. We even saw her during one of these spells, and it was terrifying I must say."

"When did you visit her?" Angela asked, now looking thoroughly intrigued.

"Oh, just a month back, when we were visiting Aunt Helen. Walter took us to meet the good old Granvilles. See, he was courting dear Nora, and we were eager to see her." Jessica seemed pleased with the thought of Nora, but Isabella was far too perturbed to acknowledge it.

"What-what did you say… about the changing eye colour?" Isabella interrupted Jessica's retelling of her brother's fondness for his fiancée.

"Well, Nettie has hazel eyes," Jessica supplied with a look of concentration on her face, "but when possessed, her eyes grew darker, fiercer, if I may say."

Lauren scoffed at Jessica's depiction, which she dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"Believe me, Isabella, it was a sight to behold," she stated confidently, "and even though it terrified me, I'd say that I was lucky to witness it. I have never in my life seen anything comparable."

"In your life of sixteen years, that is, which isn't much for a person." Lauren was resolute in putting Jessica down, but it didn't bother her.

"Oh, and her voice altered as well," Jessica added, ignoring Lauren. "She'd growl like a rabid dog and curse at the priest."

"The priest?" Angela's eyes widened in surprise, and Jessica nodded emphatically.

"The priest was the only person who would dare to go near her. She was afraid of him because the demon was afraid of him."

"Walter never said that; you are making up false facts," Lauren accused, her eyes warning Jessica.

"I am not." Jessica was defiant. "The priest was the one who cured her, after all! All of the holy men know how to banish demons, even the pastor here in Forks. Go and ask him, and he will surely explain it to you."

Angela was still looking amused, but Isabella was growing paler with each passing moment.

"Enough, Jessie!" Lauren glared, and Angela had to interrupt the argument before it became any fiercer.

The tea party had to be concluded in haste, leaving Angela red-faced and apologetic. She swore to Isabella that she wouldn't invite the Stanley sisters again because, for all their entertaining chatter, they were severely unmanageable.

Isabella gave her a lackadaisical nod in response, her mind hardly in one place.

"When is Mr. Masen returning?" Angela asked over a mouthful of scone that she had grabbed from the platter.

A few seconds passed before Angela's question penetrated Isabella's thoughts, and she had to focus her attention towards answering her friend, instead of the issues Jessica had introduced.

"In four days."

"Oh, I see. Why such a long tour?" Angela mused, tapping her foot insistently on the floor. "Just for surveying of the estates?"

"Four days… not that long a time."

"For an abrupt trip, it is."

A withered shrug returned from Isabella, who wasn't too thrilled to discuss her husband and his fickle temperament.

"I know how you feel," Angela muttered suddenly, after a long drawn silence.

Isabella was unable to place the meaning of her words; hence, she waited for more from Angela's side.

"Men, they forget us in their endeavours."

"But Ben promised you that he'll come to ask for your hand." Isabella didn't understand Angela's surliness regarding her beau. She always talked fondly of him.

"Ah, yes, that he did. But I don't want to grow old waiting for him to keep his promise."

Isabella frowned in reflection of her friend's griping. Only two days ago, Angela was chirpily talking about Ben. What could have changed?

"Sometimes, fear takes its hold on me," Angela confessed with a heavy exhale, just barely above a whisper. "Most men have a habit of courting more than one woman. And even if not courting, they seek pleasures outside of matrimony."

"I'm sure Ben is not one of them," Isabella assured her, though her own heart sank upon hearing Angela's anxiety regarding her future with Ben.

Angela regarded her with a sad smile. "I have the same opinion of Mr. Masen, so why do I see you suffering in silence?"

Overcome with surprise, Isabella backed away from her. "I don't understand the meaning behind your words."

"I do happen to notice your glum, Issy. He didn't even share a parting embrace with you before he left for Jefferson County."

"He was in a hurry." Isabella's blatant lie wasn't strong enough to hold the penetrating gaze of her friend.

"That is what I fear. Initially, they are so attentive, but then, they perhaps just lose interest. Or worse, someone else catches their eye. My mother always tells me to be prepared, for you never know when a man's fickle interest deviates. Some are even worse, like Henry Crawford."

"Why… why do you say such baleful things regarding him? What monstrosity has he committed?" Isabella's throat felt parched, as though thorns were resting on it.

Angela raised her eyebrows and laughed darkly. "You want to know? Oh, Issy, you had better not ask. I have never seen a filthier person in my life. Where do I begin? He hires poor men to work as labourers, and then he doesn't pay them properly. He keeps promising, though, so that they never leave him.

"He has so many wenches to serve him that he could run a brothel with their help. Most of them are the wives and daughters of his labourers, whom he accepted in lieu of financial help. My mother tells me that he even coerced a few into being his kept women. Can you even comprehend that? He forced himself upon these poor women, and then he maligned them as being of easy virtue… just so that he could keep them for his own gratification since no one would have agreed to marry them."

Angela's bitter recollection rendered Isabella ashen-faced, for she could then truly see herself through Henry's perspective. He had wanted her to become one of his concubines, forever doomed to serve him. She would have been a mere addition to his litany of mistresses.

She wondered if he had always acquired pleasure in breaking the spirit of young and vulnerable women. Regardless, she had never felt more beholden to Edward until this moment.

"Of course, I don't intend that Ben or Mr. Masen have any likeness to that putrid, soulless man. Heaven forbid that I even have such a thought," Angela exclaimed emphatically, seeing her friend's pallor. "I was just worried because my mother keeps warning me about men and their capricious affections."

Isabella could understand Angela's sentiment. Yet, she wasn't ready to accept that Edward was philandering. For all the trouble and anxiety he gave her, such deviations didn't look a part of his personality.

Yet, Angela's shared musings had nonetheless planted a seed of doubt.

A few bizarre questions gathered in Isabella's overwrought mind. Could it be that Edward was enjoying his time with a concubine while she waited for him at home? Was this the reason behind his frequent absences from the manor and his sudden aloofness? Or was there a more sinister reason behind his behavioural quirks?

Her mind suddenly reverted to Jessica's account of a demonic possession. Somehow, it seemed more befitting of Edward than a clandestine liaison with another woman.

The next morning, Isabella had promptly hidden away in the library after breakfast. Angela's chatter had grown more and more restive, and it was rubbing off on Isabella. Being tense and fidgety was the last of her wishes.

She was growing nervous of Angela's strange, twitchy mannerisms. It certainly didn't help her with her concern regarding her husband.

Thus, in an attempt to keep her mind away from worrying thoughts, Isabella had taken to reading again. Edward's vast collection of books and other reading material was more than enough to keep her distracted.

This time, she was thoroughly engrossed in a first edition hardback of Wuthering Heights, complete with the curious pseudonym Ellis Bell.

She found it rather amusing, and fascinating, that Edward had many first editions in his assortment. Perhaps he was a literary connoisseur.

Nevertheless, the book had captured her imagination, for it gave her a perspective on her husband's birthplace. Furthermore, the bizarre and inexplicable relationship between Heathcliff and Catherine—their odd attraction, their abhorrence, and their devotion to each other—had touched a nerve with her.

She was so entirely engrossed in the book that she never heard the hasty footsteps of her friend approaching her. It wasn't until she was standing right in front of her that she noticed.

"Umm, Issy?" Angela's hesitant voice was an indication that something was amiss.

"Yes, Angela? Is something the matter?"

"Yes… no… well," she fumbled, turning beet-red, "perhaps, yes."

Isabella waited for her to elaborate, wondering what could possibly render her loquacious friend so deprived of words.

"Ben…" Angela sighed as she slumped into a chair next to Isabella. "He… he had sent me a letter, asking me to meet him."

"He knew you were staying here?"

"No." Angela shook her head, her eyes downcast. "I received the letter prior to coming here."

"You never told me…" Isabella couldn't keep the shock out of her voice upon hearing Angela's admission.

"I… I didn't know what to do. He had requested my secrecy."

"So, he's coming to meet you?" Isabella tried to confirm, for she felt that there was more to this meeting.

"Yes," Angela answered, appearing unsettled, "but not here."

Isabella's eyes narrowed as she assimilated Angela's statement. Angela explained further without needing a reminder.

"He has asked of me to see him alone. I don't understand why he's being so clandestine about it."

"Where will you be meeting him?"

"I'll just wait at a deserted path near my home, the same place where he always meets me."

"Why not meet here, at the manor? I promise you that no one will disturb you." Isabella was never one to pry into the private lives of others, but she felt responsible towards her friend's wellbeing.

"No," Angela objected suddenly, "he especially asked me to meet him alone at the path. He wrote that he'd take me somewhere afterwards."

Isabella could see it in her eyes; Angela wasn't going to listen to her suggestions. "Then do as you please, Angela. But remember to be a responsible young lady."

"You shan't worry about me." Angela giggled dismissively.

"Well, I think I should," Isabella replied coolly, "since your parents left you with me. You're my responsibility."

Angela gaped at her for a moment but then composed herself. "I promise, Issy, just don't be so severe with me. You sound like Aunt Polly."

A warm smile replaced Isabella's stern expression then. Angela had cleverly brought up her weakness, a love for books, to disarm her.

"And like Aunt Polly, I truly care for you. Don't disappoint me."

Angela nodded and then hurried back to her room to prepare for her meeting with Ben.

Isabella stared at her platter, the remnants of her meal strewn across it, while Charles helped himself to a serving of the dessert.

"You haven't eaten much," he commented, looking pointedly at the half-eaten morsels on her dish. "It's unlike you to waste food."

His words filled her with guilt, and she hastened to polish off her half-eaten lunch. When she was done with her meal, Charles was quick to pass the dessert.

She refused politely.

It was strange, the two of them sitting at the dining table having an awkward lunch together… once again. Stranger still, the lord of the house was not present to bestow his precious company on them.

Since Angela was busy with Ben, Isabella found herself feeling lonely and restless.

The appearance of her uncle gave her some respite. Upon her request, he took a leave from work and agreed to spend the rest of the day with her.

She glanced at her uncle as he ate the dessert, remembering the time when she had newly arrived in Forks Prairie near the end of winter. How her life had changed dramatically since then, and how she had come to accept it.

"Uncle," she spoke lightly, her eyes readily observing Charles, "remember the times when you used to leave me inside the waiting room while you took care of some errands here?"

Charles peered quizzically at her as he answered. "Why, yes? You always became thoroughly bored."

She nodded, smiling wistfully at the memory. Not even in her wildest dreams had she known what her visits at the manor would entail.

"You were very grave about your warnings regarding Edward back then. The way you advised me to keep my distance…"

"Uhh, well… that…," he stuttered, visibly shaken by her broaching of the subject. "I was just… concerned about you."

A weighty silence passed between the two of them as Isabella stared at him with determined eyes.

"Is there something you would like to tell me, Uncle?" she demanded, repressing the urge to sound accusing.

He became tense as he assimilated her resolve. "I'm not sure, Issy, about what?"

"About my dear husband."

His sudden pallor was indicative of a hidden truth or two. Isabella was more than keen to know.

So Isabella is going all wonky thinking about the why and how with Edward. Tell me of the theories you'd have drawn if you were living in that era?

A word of thanks to my PTB betas, Bailey and Mistyfate. They are both fast and awesome.

Thanks a ton for the loving reviews! I tried to reply to a few of you, and will try to keep replying. Sometimes my comp fails me, so be patient? Love you all!

Notes -

I wanted to change Jessica's name, since this name was not in fashion at that time. But then I thought, what the heck! It was used as early as in Merchant of Venice. Now I'm tempted to rename Mike as Shylock. lol (kidding)

Do come to adifferentforest[dot]com and hang out with the bunch of awesome ladies over there. It's filled with fic discussions, fic recs, Robporn (and others' eye candy as well), and anything and everything that's Twilight. *Waves to the fellow ADF'ers who might be reading* :)