"Bella! I've a letter from your mother for you. She sent me one as well. We need to talk." Charles, my father, glanced up at me and from the look in his brown eyes, I knew that I wouldn't be liking what we had to talk about. "Can we go for a ride whilst talking?" I asked playfully, but really seriously, because being on Whimsy would lessen the blow of what was to come. "Sure." He clopped down the stairs and out to the barn without a second glance. My informal,understanding, sometimes uneducated father. I quickly ran to my room and changed from my rehearsal dress and into my comfortable riding clothes, navy layered bloomers and a thick, black top, for it was already cold in Fourchette, while thinking about the day's great rehearsal. Edward was talking to me consistently now, and Meg had figured out how to make me appear more graceful from a distance.
He was already in the barn, his plain brown gelding saddled. I ran to Whimsy's stall and quickly brushed her down, picked her hooves and pulled on her saddle pad. I hadn't noticed that my father had been watching over the opened top half of the door. Charles was frowning. "What is wrong, Charl-Father?" He just humphed and said, "I'll be waiting outside." I shook my head and finished tacking my mare up. A stable boy came and offered his assistance in mounting, but I shook my head and smiled. I gracelessly leaped onto my large beast and shifted around till I was comfortable. I gently squeezed her dappled sides, and we left the warm barn and entered the gray, wet air of Fourchette.
Charles saw me leave the barn, and he headed out and onto the trail into the woods that started near our house. I followed and we rode for a few minutes in silence. "Do you want the bad news, or the worst news first?" He finally said, and I nearly fell out of my polished leather saddle in shock. He wasn't a talkative man, but Charlie was always optimistic, in his own way. "The bad news, I guess." I stammered, for the first time actually worrying about the news. Was my mom and her husband okay? Were my sweet grandparents alive and healthy?
"Your mother worries that you are aren't getting the training and...uh...information on what it is to be a proper lady and future wife. She would like me to get a chaperon- lady instruct you so you are properly informed." He looked away awkwardly, and coughed. I, meanwhile, stared into the bleak woods surrounding us, and thought about the dreaded lady lessons. I knew I could use some work, but this? It must be her new husband's influence on her. She was easy going and loved to please people. "I've taken care of it all. I know how important the opera is to you, and that they rely on you as well, so I hired Mrs. Delacrux to be your instructor. You have lessons on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, and must leave the opera house at 1:00, as the lessons start at 2:30. I'm sorry, Bells. Your mother wanted the lessons four days a week, so I tried to compromise. Please don't be sad!" He seemed incredibly nervous. I knew I had to just suck it up, no matter how terrible, or he'd loathe himself for the days to come.
"Father, its fine. I do need instruction on how to be more graceful... I'm sure I can manage for three days a week......What was the other news?" He looked away again, and his nervousness seemed to dissolve into sadness. His horse had taken advantage of our conversation, and slowed to a barely moving walk. Whimsy on the other hand, was chopping on her bit and prancing in place and basically telling me to get a move on. I loosened the reins to appease her and she settled down for a few moments, though I knew it wouldn't last.
"Its your grandfather." He said at last. My grandparents are unbelievably sweet and kind. My favorite of them all is Grandfather Swan, who always tells the best stories and encourages my music. He always says that if you have a passion, you should pursue it no matter what. "Which one?" I stammered. Grandpa Dawier always had bad health. Grandfather Swan, however, is healthy and fit and rides his horses every day.
"Your Grandfather Swan. He was riding his newest horse, an untrained stallion. The horse...proved to be too much work for him, and he was thrown into the fence. He broke his neck." Then there was complete silence. I shook my head in disbelief. He was strong and had the best horse sense I'd ever seen. "No, not him. Not him..." I whispered. "Bella. He died two weeks ago." My father sounded incredibly sorry, but it didn't matter. I spurred Whimsy, and she took off down the trail, and we ran farther and farther away from my father. I don't know how long we flew, but after a while, Whimsy started to slow, then stop. And she is a trained, fit Thoroughbred. I still couldn't believe he was dead. "Following your passion killed you!" I shouted to no one, and it started to rain. It is always raining in Fourchette. I just closed my eyes and turned my face to the sky, letting it wash away the tears that seeped out from under my eyelids. I just stayed there till the subtle, late afternoon light faded to nothing, and it was dark. Whimsy didn't even move the whole time. She understood. I turned her back to the trail when my whole body was numb and soaked from the never ending precipitation. We made it back to the stable, and I just handed my mare to a stable boy instead of grooming her myself, like I have always done before.
I walked into the house and wearily went straight up to my bedroom. The candles were already lite, and Marie was fluffing out my pillows. She saw my wet appearance and dead face, and opened her mouth, but I just shook my head, and she thankfully left me. I changed into a black nightgown, and turned to my dresser to let down my hair. There was an envelope on the large counter top, addressed simply to, "Bella" in my mother's scrawled and tiny font. My letter. I took the pins out that hurt the most and sat down and read. Sh asked how I was doing,then preceded to tell of every meal, song and conversation she had after I left. She was worried that I hadn't written her. I stopped reading guiltily, and tugged on a curl, then continued on. She didn't mention my grandfather's death once in the light-hearted letter, and only put in once how she was concerned about my education and manners twice. I guess she put all the important stuff into my dad's letter. Figures. I pushed the letter down unto the table once I finished and threw a couple of pillows at the wall and muffled a couple of my screams. I'm frustrated with how my mother thinks that I'm so incompetent. And I'm depressed about my Grandfather's death. I haven't seen him in two years, and I was supposed to stay with him this summer. I stared out the window and into the bleak rain for awhile, then I went over to my violin case. Music is always the best medicine.
I thought about a story my Grandpapa used to tell me back when I was really little. It was a song legend, and I can still hear his rusty old voice croon out the tune to me. I played a little intro to it that I composed a few years ago, then sing the comforting words, "Legends tell of an angel, many dream for him to appear, but know that when theres a voice like yours singing, he'll be there! Even now, in this room,He sings so softly, somewhere inside hiding! Trust me, little love, he's always with you, he your unseen genius!" I ceased singing and played on my violin, then continued with the reply I always sang as a little girl. "Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory! Angel of music, hide no longer, secret and great Angel!" I broke of, laughing a little at a memory of myself at six. Grandfather had just sang the legend of the Angel of Music, and I had sang too, and become way too frustrated when he never appeared. I put my violin away and went back to my vanity. Picking up the letter, I sat down and reread it, so that I could reply. Nothing came to me, so I resolved to do it the next day When I set the heavy paper down again, I heard a little tinkling sound and dumped the content of the envelope unto the counter. A slim gold bracelet fell out, with two charms on it, a music staff and a horse shoe. The little tag read, "Bells : hope you like it! Your Grandpa got the horse charm, and I got the music one." I ran my fingers over the smooth gold and got in bed, not even washing my face or brushing my teeth. Suddenly, I was just too exhausted to care.
When I awoke in the morning, everything seemed normal. In fact, my episode from the previous night was not even mentioned once. I was glad. Charles didn't say anything about the new bracelet when we ate breakfast, and I soon just left and went to the opera house a bit earlier than usual. Meg choose to ignore my swollen eyes and wild curly hair, and I liked her a bit more for it. We went through rehearsals like usual and I did my parts surprisingly well, given my angst from the previous night. Well enough that Edward said, "Beautiful,"after I finished my part in the second to last song. He walked over to me with the grace of a jaguar and said, " Just today, you've added lots of depth to that song! I'm surprised and delighted with the progress you've made over these last few weeks, Mlle Bella. Think of what you could do with the right teacher..." He then he actually looked at my face, looked away, and seemed to be having a debate with himself. Finally, in his perfect voice, whispered, "Rough night?" That was the last thing I was expecting. Our conversations usually were few and far in between, and always about his operas. I pondered to myself about whether I should answer. Usually, when I had occasionally found boys attractive, I would flirt and seem invisible. Should I tell him that I did, in fact, have a horribly rough night?
I decided that honesty was the best policy, but that I would only tell what he asked. "Yes, it was quite rough." I finally stuttered, and leaned over to get my lunch, as it was my break time. He nodded as if to say, 'go on.."so I did, and said,"I received a letter to from my mother." Then I inwardly groaned. The only time I had talked to him that wasn't about music had been about my mother. "Is she well?" He asked coolly, taking out an apple and polishing it with his white hands. Really, many a girl would kill for his unblemished alabaster complexion. I guess he was taking his lunch with me. "Yes, she's fine. Its just that, theres some complications with, my ,...uh, education, and..." I broke off, feeling the threat of unexpected, obnoxious tears to spill out. "And..." Edward continued, and I realized that he wanted an answer. "My grandfather died." I said at last, and there was a silence. He looked up from the shining apple, and offered it to me. I shouldn't have, but I took it and smiled weakly. "I'm sorry. Where you close?" I nodded while taking a bit from the sweet fruit and managed not to let juice run down unto my dress. Apples are actually my favorite food. I noticed that while I scarfed, he ate nothing. "Are you not hungry?" I asked after eating his apple. Edward shook his head, then smiled as he watched me eat even more of the food I had packed. "Have you a healthy appetite?" He smirked. I gasped and glanced away so I could catch my breath, and coyly said, "Well, some girls actually eat enough to be full everyday." and as an after thought, "I'm 5'7'', so I have an excuse, anyway." He smiled that amazing grin again, while saying, "Well, I'm 6'2'', and I don't eat much, so do I not have an excuse?" Just after he said that, Meg came rushing over, with the group of people I normally eat with in tow.
"Bella!" She squealed, then saw Edward and smiled flirtatiously, whispering a "Hey, Edward." He just nodded in response, then said, "Have a nice afternoon, ladies." Meg giggled again, and nudged the girls surrounding her, but I followed him a little so that I was out of their giggly earshot. "Are you not going to be here after lunch?" I asked, a little disappointed. Okay, really disappointed. He shook his head, so the tousled bronze hair waved against his forehead. "I think I'll take a walk. I'm not needed, and it is actually not raining, so why not?" My eyes popped. "Your just going to leave?" He smirked and said, "Yes. I am. Your friends are looking for you again. Good luck with your aria, Bella." Then he was down the stairs and out the huge doors, with me staring behind.