Part Five

"Isabella?"

"Hmm…?"

She's finally getting around to adding the antiquarian books she had brought with her to the library's collection. It had been a whirlwind week, what with her blooming romance with Edward and all . . .

"Wipe that dreamy smile off of your face."

"Oh sorry." My, this one co-worker of hers is unpleasant. Isabella nervously tucks a strand of hair that wasn't even out of place behind her ear. "What did you want?"

"I know it's last minute, but the head librarian wants you to go to the Librarian's Conference this weekend in my stead."

Isabella brings a hand to her chest and asks incredulously, "Me?"

"Yeah, you." Her co-worker crosses her arms and pouts. "The new girl. The new golden girl."

"Did she say why?"

"Something about a panel with a focus on antiquarian books. She wants you to talk about the new ones you've brought to our collection. You know, the ones with historical and genealogical information on Gotham's founding families."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.' So, it's not your skills or your good looks, honey. Just dumb luck." The woman smirked bitterly at her. "Like that man of yours."

What?

"You know all those flowers he sends you?"

Isabella raises an eyebrow.

"That ain't gonna last, hon. Your luck's going to run out."

The vile woman saunters off and Isabella just wants to take a minute to cry, but she is determined not to let her get the best of her. Not at work.

So… where's that book on the Van Dahl's? She wants to study up if she's going to speak on this material in a couple of days and she hasn't even glanced at that one yet.

Kapelput. That name keeps popping up in the book on the Van Dahl's as she makes her way through it. It's an odd name to find there. As far as she knows Van Dahl is a Germanic surname and Kapelput sounds . . .

"Kapelput." Hmmm… said aloud it almost sounds like "Cobblepot."

"Are you talking about Oswald?" Edward asks her as he bends down to kiss her forehead and set some tea beside her chair. They're spending Friday night together. He had assured her that he'd be content just watching her study. She doesn't have time to go to the cinema with him as planned now that she's been asked to attend the conference.

"No . . ." she hesitates. "Well, at least I don't think so."

"Which family is that book about?" he asks.

"The Van Dahl's."

Edward nods. "Oh, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Cobblepot." He takes a seat and says simply, "Oswald's related to the Van Dahl's."

"Really? How?" She turns the book over, then rustles through some pages. "He's not in here and these contain fairly extensive family trees. They've been added to for decades and are quite up-to-date despite their ancient appearance."

"Oswald may just not be listed then because he's the illegitimate son of Elijah Van Dahl."

"That information should be in here regardless. All progeny are listed, including illegitimate ones. These books of mine are quite comprehensive." Isabella scratches her head. "What was Oswald's mother's name?"

"Gertrud."

"Cobblepot?"

"Yes."

"Could it be spelled this way too?" She hands the book over to him, pointing at "Kapelput."

"That looks right." He hands the book back to her. "There is an alternate spelling of Cobblepot and I think that's it. But I'd have to double check."

"Hmmm… Well from what I can tell, the Kapelputs referenced in this book are some kind of aristocratic family and they're mentioned quite often because of their entwined history with the Van Dahl's. But there's no mention of a Gertrud so far."

"I wouldn't expect there to be."

"Oh?"

"Oswald told me that his mother worked as a servant for the Van Dahl's – as a cook. So she was far from being an aristocrat."

"Hmm… So, she's not likely to be related to one of these Kapelputs then?"

"Probably not. Elijah and Gertrud's affair was illicit because of her lower station. It's why his parents forbid them from seeing each other."

"But still… the names. It's a strange coincidence."

"And it's a strange coincidence how much you look like Kristen," Edward says and starts to take down her hair.

Isabella puts the book down.

"And how much you don't," he says in a gravelly whisper as his delicate fingers slide through her pale strands.

She looks up at him and accepts his kiss as his fingers trail down her neck and loosen the top button of her blouse.

"Edward," she sighs.

He loosens more buttons as she reaches up to loosen his. They're both methodical in their actions. Careful. They set their clothes aside neatly as they come off. They are so in sync it almost makes her want to cry.

He picks her up, carries her to the bedroom, and lays her gently on the bed before covering her with the full weight of his body. They have made love every night since that first night and she wonders how they are going to handle being apart for two days.

"I'm going to miss you," he says as if reading her mind.

"Me too," she whispers and strokes his cheek. It is smooth. He had just shaved in anticipation of their date that night and it makes her smile. The smell of his aftershave is still clean and strong.

And then he is inside of her and she comes apart at his touch, crying out softly into the night.