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LadySharkey1 rocks my world by being the most amazing, kick-ass beta I could ever imagine.
Belmont Island, Maine
Saturday, March 17, 1951
8 AM
Upstairs, Bella was taking a bit longer to get ready for the new day than the men had. That, in part, of course, was due to the fact that a woman's appearance took slightly longer to be put together than that of a man. Men could blissfully hop into the first presentable shirt and any suit he came across, straighten out a tie, pull a brush through his unruly hair and call himself done. Whereas a woman needed to do all that, make something of her hair and make-up, and spend hours coordinating not just the outfit for that day but also the effect that single dent into her wardrobe had on the things she planned to wear during the days ahead.
Bella sighed, pondering the irony of having too many choices to pick from when years ago she would have had sleepless nights thinking of ways to stretch her meager wardrobe. It was a luxury that she'd become so used to over the few years she'd indulged in it, that she sometimes almost forgot what it used to be like to live more frugally.
"Do you need any help?" The voice startling her out of her reminiscing, reminded her of the fact that she was still not alone.
"Thank you, Angela," she replied with a kind smile, "but I think I'll manage. I've been dressing myself for years now and, regardless of what Alice seemed to think, I don't believe I require any assistance with dressing myself."
Angela nodded, looking slightly dejected by the rejection of the woman she secretly hoped to gain employment from.
"Very well, then," Bella gave in, sighing deeply. "I supposed I'd be mad not to put your offer to good use, though I'm warning you, I'm a very stubborn patron and I demand to put on my own undergarments!"
"Noted," Angela chuckled at the other woman's warm teasing. For the most part, she was just happy to keep herself busy while she was still trapped on that godforsaken island, although her fears for the future still made her uneasy. "Now, what do you want to wear today?"
"See? That's where things start to go wrong for us!" Bella chuckled, letting the laces of her robe fall open to reveal her nightgown. "I'm used to picking my own attire from what's inside my wardrobe. I usually just stand in front of it and pick whatever appeals to me that day."
"Okay," Angela answered hesitantly, Bella's ways being completely foreign to her. As a trained ladies maid, she'd been used to having her bosses knowing exactly what kinds of outfits they had set out for different parts of the day and the designers that created them. "I'll just sit back until you decide, then."
Between the two of them, they managed to stumble through a strange and completely new routine; both of them knowing that it would last them as long as it would take to get off the island. It was a great perk that they both liked each other as it made the whole process of getting used to the two very different lifestyles a lot easier.
They were just about finished putting the final touches to Bella's look for the day—modest and unassuming as she liked it, but with a much more elaborate hairstyle than she could have achieved on her own—when a knock on the door made both women look up.
"Bella?" Esme's soft voice called out. "Is it okay if I come in and speak with you?"
"Oh, yes, of course!" Bella replied, thanking Angela for all of her hard work as the younger girl stepped away, excusing herself to wash Bella's dirty traveling clothes from the day before and make sure her travel-stained shoes were as good as new again. "How is Carlisle doing this morning? I was really concerned about him last night…and so, so sad to hear of his illness."
Esme smiled sadly, touched by Bella's interest in the man she'd cared for and loved for the past few years. "I'm afraid yesterday's tragic events have taken their toll on him. He's completely worn out and frankly, I worry if this might not have been the final straw…"
"He's much worse than he's letting on, isn't he?" Bella paled, her heart hurting for the kind-hearted director.
"I'm afraid so," Esme confirmed. "He's not ready to admit it yet but the doctor thinks he's not long for this world. He had a seizure last week, which made me fear he wouldn't even make it to this weekend. He was so looking forward to seeing all of you one last time, though, I think it made him pull through even though everyone advised him against it." Sighing, Esme added. "He needs all his strength to just keep going, to get up in the morning and make it down the stairs on his own. In his state, even the slightest bit of excitement could cut days off his life. He wouldn't hear of canceling, not when this has been the single thing he's lived for these past weeks."
In that moment, Bella couldn't help but feel ashamed for her former feelings about her weekend at Belmont. Here she'd been, moping about having to spend a few hours with a bunch of people she disliked when Carlisle had been fighting even make it to Friday still breathing! "Is there anything I can do to help him? I'm sorry, I know he's beyond healing, but is there anything that can be done to ease his pain?"
"Perhaps you could come and sit with him this afternoon after he's rested," Esme offered. "I know he wouldn't like Rosalie or one of the men to see him in his weakened state but I feel you've always held a very special place in his heart." Turning serious, she added, "I didn't tell him about Emmett's death, though, so I'd be most obliged if you kept it to yourself. I'm afraid…" Swallowing back her tears, she took a moment to compose herself again before she went on. "I'm afraid the news will kill him if he ever finds out."
Bella couldn't help but agree with Esme, her already depressed mood sinking even further at the thought of that poor man fighting for his life and the poor woman who loved him sitting by his side day and night, unable to do anything besides watching while it happened.
And so with little appetite following her agreement to sit with Carlisle, she joined the men in the breakfast room. Settling for just a cup of coffee, she joined Edward and Jasper at the table, right as they were in the middle of a discussion about the things they'd learned as they came down for breakfast.
"I'm telling you, one of them must have done it!" Jasper insisted, sitting back with an almost triumphant smile on his lips, determined he'd just solved the murder.
"Done what?" Bella wanted to know, stirring a large cloud of milk into the black liquid until it turned a sickly shade of beige.
"Killed Emmett and Alice," Edward replied dismissively. "I don't know, Jazz, we haven't even seen the handyman. How are you so sure he's on the island? I still think it's the butler."
"I'm convinced the butler's lying somewhere in an unused room with a knife sticking out of his chest," Jasper guessed. "How else would the killer have gotten the keys to Emmett's room?"
"By having them on him day and night?" Edward argued. "Seriously, man, you're only making my case!"
"Wait!" Bella cried. "Are you guys certain Alice was murdered?"
"It's a bit too coincidental, isn't it?" Jasper answered her question. "Alice chokes on her food on the same night Emmett happens to get stabbed to death?" Sitting back, his eyes were all business as he added. "No, someone's killing off the cast and I, for one, am determined to find him before he finds me."
"Or her, remember?" Edward chuckled, though there was a new hardness to his eyes that told Bella that he was taking this very serious. "Your other guess was a woman, wasn't it?"
"Esme, yes," Jasper nodded.
"Esme?" Bella felt an acute sense of indignation at the mention of that poor woman's name as a possible murderer. "What on earth makes you think it's her?"
"She had an argument with Alice before her death," Jasper defended his suspicions, "and don't you think it's a bit peculiar how she's keeping Carlisle away from all of this? I think she's up to something."
"She's up to saving as many days for the man she loves as she possibly can, or have you forgotten how another man's dying under this roof as we speak?" Bella fumed. "I can't believe you: here she is, caring for him while putting her own needs on the backburner, and you think she actually has time to plot and execute two murders? You really don't know women, Jasper Whitlock!"
Jasper huffed. "Be that as it may, madam, but in my eyes, she stands to lose an awful lot if her position in this house comes under fire. That alone is enough to put off some very serious warning bells in my head."
"And who says that same suspicion can't fall onto you with a few clever assumptions?" Bella countered, their argument halted by the unexpected arrival of none other than Rosalie McCarty, as she made a beeline for the food table in the breakfast room.
The change from grief stricken woman they'd seen to bed the previous night to the vivacious, almost happy looking creature that stalked into the room with the old airs and graces of the years ago, couldn't have been greater if she tried. And to say that it shocked the other diners would have been the understatement of the century.
"What?" she asked, so prickly and strangely indignant that the other people at the table found it strange. "Am I supposed to play the grieving widow now and stay in my room, crying my eyes out over his damn memory? Everyone knows I hated the son of a bitch!" Walking over to the side table, she scooped a large helping of scrambled eggs onto her plate before heaping it with bacon and toast. "As far as I'm concerned, this is the biggest favor that asshole could have ever given me!"
And just like that, the 'grieving' widow found herself at the top of three different suspects' lists.
Thoughts?