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LadySharkey1 rocks my world by being the most amazing, kick-ass beta I could ever imagine.
Rosslyn Harbor, Maine
Friday, March 16, 1951
4 PM
If there was anything the men and women gathered on the dock shared, it was their dislike for each other. That, and their reluctance to comply with the wishes of an old man. Each and every single one of them had at one point been on the brink of excusing themselves with some bogus prior engagement but yet, the lingering gratitude they all felt towards the once famed Broadway director had held them back.
In the end, their curiosity had sealed their fate.
After all, how often does one get an invitation to spend a weekend on a remote island with a man who had been missing from the public eye for more than five years?
"What do you think he wants?" Emmett stretched his back, his head motioning towards the grand, mock French renaissance castle that sat on an island barely visible from the shore. He and his wife had been the first ones to arrive, soon joined by Jasper Whitlock—the only one out of the whole cast who'd never left New York and Broadway.
Jasper shrugged, "I don't know, man, but we're bound to find out." And with that, he turned away, already sick of the smug bastard standing next to him. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the smart looking Lincoln Continental which had just pulled up to the head of the dock.
He whistled, chuckling as the most unlikely figure ever elegantly slid out of the back seat. "Somebody's obviously done quite well for herself!"
The woman stepping from the car had never been more nervous in her life. Not even on her wedding day, or that night more than ten years ago when she had made her stage debut, had she ever felt her body tremble the way it did that moment.
"That will be all, Crowley," she spoke, her voice as shaky as the rest of her but still kind as she shared a smile with her chauffeur.
"Very well, ma'am," the driver answered with a friendly nod of his head. "I will be waiting for you at four o'clock sharp on Sunday afternoon. Should you need me before, I will only be a phone call away."
Bella smiled, grateful for all his good cares. "Thank you, Crowley. You have no idea how much that thought consoles me." Unlike her mother in law, Bella had never learned to take the efforts of her staff for granted. After all, she keenly remembered what her life had been like when she had to take care of herself. "Wish me luck!"
"You won't need it, Mrs. Black." Bella wished she had Crowley's certainty as she took a deep breath and tried to remember that she was a long ways away from the shy, simple girl from ten years ago. A fortunate marriage to one of the richest men in the country, motherhood, and finally widowhood had left her independently rich and with a much stronger character than the frightened girl who had fled New York with her tail between her legs.
"I thought you were Alice." Rosalie's voice sounded as welcome as nails against a chalkboard as the once beautiful actress appeared beside her. "I forgot you landed yourself a rich one."
Time had not been as kind to Rosalie McCarty. An unhappy marriage and the disappointments that had followed it had driven her to indulge in rich foods and fine wines. And it showed; her once praised curves had expanded to beyond what could be called Rubensian, and her face reflected the bitterness that had taken hold of her spirit.
"I see you finally gave Emmett what he wanted," Bella remarked, meeting Rose's ill-concealed jab with one of her own as a flashy red car sped towards them. That would be Alice.
Rose huffed. "Between my father and him, the deal was as good as done by the time the final curtain closed. Who was I to go against them, huh? It's not like my happiness was important to anyone."
Bella smiled sympathetically. "You could have always…"
"And give him the pleasure of being able to do whatever the hell he wants?" Rose chuckled bitterly. "No, I'm in this until death do us part. Even if it's just to spite him!"
To Bella, this concept seemed so foreign she could barely fathom it. True, she too had married not for love but for convenience, but in her marriage there had at least been mutual respect and affection. She even thought that if it had lasted for more than the few years before her husband had bravely volunteered himself for battle, she might have grown to love him.
"My God!" Rose meanwhile chuckled beside her. "It seems she wants to move in permanently! Look at all those suitcases!"
Where the rest of them had brought a modest bag or small suitcase suitable to fit the necessities one needed for only two nights away from home, Alice Brandon seemed to have packed her entire wardrobe judging from the six enormous trunks that littered the dock. Some poor woman who looked to be her maid was having a hell of a job getting them all arranged in a way that wouldn't damage the expensive looking leather exterior as her boss barked all kinds of orders at her. The woman herself was standing there with an air of superiority and a mink coat that looked far too warm for the time of year as she surveyed her surroundings.
With her success, the arrogance and inhumane unfeelingness that had always marked Alice Brandon's character had only grown. Now that she had made a successful transition from stage to screen—and was a big name in Hollywood—she had seemed to adopt the idea that the world somehow evolved around her. And how could she not, when there was nobody around to tell her otherwise?
In fact, out of the cast that had shot to fame during the production of The Merchant of Venice, only one other actor could rival her success. And he was trying very hard to blend in with the scenery as he stood back, his eyes never leaving Bella's small frame.
To him, she would always be the one who got away.
That was why he, unlike the others, had jumped at the chance Carlisle Cullen's invitation had offered. As little as he looked forward to seeing everybody else, the chance to undo the biggest mistake he'd ever made in his life was one he wasn't going to let slip through his fingers.
Not for all the conceited, self-involved actors in the world.
Looking at her, his imagination truly hadn't done her justice. Over the years, Bella Swan—now Black—had blossomed from the frightened little girl into a woman who carried herself with a sort of quiet confidence. Out of the three women gathered there that day, she was the last one a man would take notice of. But when he did, his eyes would no longer linger on the artificial, hard beauty of Alice Brandon or the pudgy faded glory of Rosalie McCarty. They would only see the understated elegance and friendly openness of Bella Black's classically beautiful face.
As his did.
Finally, a man in a pickup truck appeared, unloading boxes full of supplies into a boat as he announced to the assembled guests that he wouldn't be the one who would carry them across to the island. A fight broke out between Alice and the boatman, who refused point-black to both load and ferry all her luggage, Edward finally found the courage to approach the object of his affections.
"It's funny how some things never change, isn't it?" he wondered, shielding his cigarette as he struck a match to light it.
Bella smiled tightly, refusing his offer of a smile. "I find it hard to use the word 'funny' in relation to that woman. In fact, this whole trip isn't something I would describe as fun."
"Do you miss your son?" Edward asked, as both their eyes watched another classic Alice-explosion unfurl as the boatman tried to make her see how food and other necessities were more important than her expensive wardrobe and luggage had been restricted to one piece a person. As had been stipulated in their invitation.
"Yes," Bella replied shortly.
Over the years, he'd tried to keep up to date with the world of Bella Swan, though it hadn't been easy since she seemed to prefer a life of relative obscurity. All he knew was that not even a year after she'd left New York, she'd married some older guy who was some friend of the family and had his son a year later. He was all she had (besides a boatload of money) as her husband, like so many, had died during the war, leaving her a very wealthy widow and the sole caretaker of their son. "I'm sure you could have brought him with you, if you wanted to," Edward offered.
"And have him exposed to all of you?" Bella huffed angrily. "I'd rather hire Joseph Stalin to be his nanny for the weekend. I doubt he could do as much damage!"
Edward sighed as he realized his plan to win back the woman of his dreams wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped. "Then why are you here?"
"Why are we all here?" Bella let out a long breath as, finally, Alice and the boatman seemed to have come to some sort of agreement. "Curiosity," she answered her own question. "Besides, I've been trying to learn more about my dad lately so I wondered what Carlisle can tell me about him."
"I bet he can fill in a gap or two," Edward offered as he grabbed both their suitcases as started walking towards the ramp with her. "They worked together a lot over the years. I think Charlie even played in those final two productions of Carlisle's. You know, when the old man really started to lose the plot."
Carlisle Cullen had always been an eccentric man; given his chosen field, it was hardly something that had set him apart from other stage directors. Many times, like in 'their' production of The Merchant of Venice, his eccentricity had driven him to genius new finds that breathed new light into old, overdone plays. His final years, however, had been marked by one disaster after the next.
"Jacob and I actually went to see Romeo and Juliet before it closed," Bella offered as she carefully walked the gangplank. "I think it was the second of the three performances they did before it closed." She shuddered, thinking about one of the most awkward nights of her life. The actors, already aware of the fact that they had committed themselves to something horrible, had shown little conviction in their performance whereas the audience, disgusted by the many liberties the director had taken with one of Shakespeare's most beloved classics, as well as the sometimes downright vulgar staging, had booed them enthusiastically. "It was every bit as bad as the papers made it appear."
"Is that why your father enlisted?" Edward guessed, as they watched the boatman prepare for departure. He knew that a man of Charlie's age and standing would have easily been able to escape the war if he'd wanted to. "To get away from the disaster?"
Bella nodded. "That's what I think anyway." And with that, she angled herself away from him as she slowly but carefully wandered across the deck while the boat started moving towards their final destination.
Every single part of her was screaming to jump over the railing and run away while she still could but as her hands gripped the metal so tightly it was starting to hurt, she managed to curb her instinct and direct her attention towards the vague image of the island on the horizon.
Belmont Island.
It was the last place on earth she wanted to go to.
It was also, ironically enough, exactly where she was headed.
Thoughts?