Synopsis
Once a privileged heiress, Isabella Swan suddenly loses everything, including her family's prized book collection. When son of rival family Edward Cullen acquires the collection and offers her a job, she is in no position to refuse. A tentative friendship based on their mutual love for books grows complicated as they enter into an arrangement – she wants the books back; he wants her.
Chapter 5 - The Library
Bella didn't want to like the Cullen library. She really didn't. But from the moment she stepped in, she felt utterly at home.
She had been fretting about the logistics of working for Edward. They had agreed on secrecy but how would she get in and out of the mansion without being seen by his household staff? What about his family? How long before her mother found out? There was a distinct possibility that Renee Swan would rather starve than have her only daughter work for a Cullen.
This was before Edward calmly led her to the back of the Cullen mansion, where they stood before a nondescript door half-obscured by shrubbery and climbing vines.
Behind the door lay a dusty, narrow passageway. Just as Bella was regretting her decision to follow a near stranger into a strange old house, Edward arrived before another door at the end of the passageway and gave the ancient-looking lever next to it a sharp tug. To her complete amazement, the door swung open to reveal a room full of bookshelves. They had entered the library through a secret passageway! From the other side, the door was seamlessly concealed behind a bookshelf. She had only heard of old houses with hidden passageways before, so the childish excitement she felt at encountering one in real life was almost embarrassing.
"I suppose you are aware," Edward mused, "that in the old days the library was the equivalent of the modern man-cave, and a gentleman would spend a lot of time there. I used to imagine my ancestors here, reading worthy books during the day, having brandies and cigars after dinner at night. Since I discovered this concealed door, I've been wondering what mischief they got up to when the ladies thought they were in the library!
"It's a Cullen men's secret," he confided, "passed down from father to son. You are the first woman to know about this." With a small smile, he added, "You must carry this to the grave with you."
The library consisted of two spaces. Both the main and concealed doors open into the first, a long room with row upon row of laden shelves on either side. This led into the second room, which was a larger space with high ceilings and generous windows along one wall. Mahogany bookshelves lined every available wall space. A lit fireplace was surrounded by a sofa, a couple of comfortable leather armchairs and ottomans. A baby grand piano stood in one corner, an oversized antique globe in another. Plants, lamps of varying sizes and oriental rugs were scattered throughout. It was a grand room, with its chandeliers, antique furniture and obvious pedigree. It would have been stuffy, except for the fact that it was so lived-in. There were piles of books and papers everywhere, cushions were askew, a jacket was flung carelessly over a chair and one armchair still bore the indentation of its last occupant. Bella smirked a little. Edward Cullen was messy.
"So, what do you think?" Edward asked, leaning against a beautiful 19th century walnut desk.
"Hmmm." Bella made a non-committal sound as she ran a casual finger along the spine of a leather bound volume. She resolved to appear unimpressed, but what she really wanted to do was to grab as many books as she could carry and find a cosy spot on the sofa in front of the fire to read.
"Edward, does anyone else come here?" Bella was still worried about word getting back to her mother .
"This library is my private space. We are in a quiet wing of the house, you don't have to worry about being seen. I'll instruct the staff to clean the library in the morning and to keep it strictly out of bounds in the afternoon."
They came to an agreement: Bella was to work from 1pm to 4pm every weekday until the entire library was catalogued and the two collections integrated. This included tasks like creating electronic records of all the books and organising titles by subject categories. Edward also wanted Bella's opinion on new acquisitions, gaps in the collection to fill and what to trim to make room for the new stock.
The responsibility of curating another family's much loved legacy daunted Bella.
"I'm not sure I'm up to this, Edward, I'm not a qualified librarian or a curator. I just love books and words..."
"And that's enough for me. Isabella, this is not a dead archive sitting in a museum somewhere. It's mine to enjoy, for the next forty years, if I'm lucky. I need to preserve what's been passed down to me but I also want to add to it, leave my mark on it. I want the opinion of someone who loves books as much as I do, someone who understands this." Edward threw his arms open in a gesture that encompassed his library, his family, his entire legacy.
Bella nodded, finally understanding. For the first time in a long while, she felt a prickle of anticipation in the pit of her stomach.
Bella made up a story about working in a nearby village's library to explain her afternoon absences to Renee. Renee had grumbled about the humble nature of the job but eventually had to concede that they needed the money. Bella could only hope that Renee, who had always considered herself above the villagers, did not decide to start speaking to them.
Moving away for a full-time job, or even taking on one nearby was not an option for Bella because of her mother. Apart from being severely depressed, Renee struggled with the day-to-day household chores she had previously hired other people to do. Almost as spoiled, Bella only stood in slightly better stead because of the last few years she had spent fending for herself in university. She had to teach her mother to separate the colours in a wash, and to never microwave aluminium foil or eggs.
The irony of the situation was not lost on Bella. Renee had always been more of a wife than a mother. She had left the upbringing of her only daughter to her husband, the nanny, the housekeeper and later, boarding school. In a complete reversal of roles, Bella woke Renee up every morning, made her breakfast and helped her with her gardening, the only activity that could rouse Renee from her stupor. After making sure her mother was fed and suitably occupied, Bella set off for work.
The Cullen mansion was a mere 15 minutes' walk away along a little-used footpath. Even so, Bella was grateful to get into the warm library with its roaring fire and smell of old books. It was a world away from her mother, the leaking cottage and their financial worries.
Bella had not expected to see Edward everyday but it seemed that he spent more and more time in the library, even bringing in his laptop to work on. He initiated conversations, but quickly realised that he would be rebuffed unless the topic was directly related to the library. Though she kept him at arm's length, Bella was surprised by how articulate and well-read he was. This, she decided, made him even more dangerous. They could easily become friends, which would further confuse her already conflicting feelings about him, their rivalling families and the fact that he now owned the book collection that was rightfully hers.
And then there was the matter of his behaviour. His annoying, considerate, gentlemanly behaviour. At the end of her first day at work, he had insisted on walking her home, pointing out that the footpath was unlit and isolated. When she vehemently refused, he followed behind her anyway, always leaving a few metres' distance between them.
"What are you doing? I told you, I'm fine, I don't need your help!" Bella had stomped up to him in a huff.
"It's a public footpath, Isabella. If I want to take a walk at 4 o'clock everyday, you can't stop me."
Bella had given up fighting him on the matter, but perhaps she was just a little relieved that she wouldn't have to walk home alone in the dark.
Bella came across a volume of Auden's work on the shelves one day, and couldn't resist reading the last two stanzas of a favourite poem out loud.
.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
.
She closed her eyes, savouring the after-taste of the words on her tongue.
"That was lovely."
Bella started. Edward must have walked in while she was engrossed in Auden. And now he stood, leaning against the darkwood shelf, his face unreadable. The silence between them was thick as Bella's face flushed with heat. She hated that he caught her in a vulnerable moment.
"Isabella, I have a proposal for you."
She frowned as he continued, "My work running the estate is stressful...I miss having time to read." He straightened and took a deep breath. "Will you...will you read for me? Maybe just for an hour a day, after your usual work?"
It must have been obvious that she was about to refuse, as he added quickly, "One book, from your father's collection. One book a week for your time. Any book."
"Any book?" Her heart skipped a beat. This was too good to be true.
"Any book except for his first edition of The Great Gatsby. That one's staying."
Bella wrestled with her conscience, "Edward, you know that some of these books are worth a small fortune right?"
Edward gave a small shrug, never taking his eyes off her.
There was really no other answer she could have given.
"You missed a line."
"What?"
This was the second week of their reading sessions. Everyday at 4pm, Edward would be seated in the leather armchair by the fireplace, a drink in his hand. No matter how tense he was when he first entered the library, at 4, he would be there, looking up at her from his armchair with an expectant smile on his face. They took turns picking the material. They read everything – poetry, novels, plays. They had chuckled through the witty dialogue of Oscar Wilde, lamented the hero's tragic end in Jude the Obscure, marvelled over the beauty of Shakespeare's sonnets. Bella found it hard to sustain her animosity towards Edward when she was reading. It was as if time froze when they sat in front of the fire. The words wove a spell over them and kept the outside world at bay. Allegiances, family grievances, responsibilities were all set aside and they were simply, Edward and Bella. The walk back to Bella's cottage afterwards was always conducted in silence, as if by not speaking they could preserve the spell for that much longer.
Today, they were reading John Donne. Edward got up from his armchair to sit beside her on the sofa. He leaned over and tapped a finger at a line in her book.
"You missed a line of the poem. Here, 'For thou thyself art thine own bait'."
His hair tickled the side of her face as he moved closer to the page to read.
"Oh" was all she could manage. If she let out the breath she was holding, the bare skin on their hands would touch.
He withdrew his hand but did not move away. He spoke quietly, "Thank you for obliging me with John Donne today. You have a beautiful reading voice."
The scar on her arm caught his eye. Using only the barest pressure of his fingertips, he held her forearm and turned it towards the light so that the wood fire threw the ridges of her faint scar into relief.
"Do you remember how we met? As children?" A hazy memory of falling into the river flickered in Bella's mind.
"I suppose you were too young to remember the details. I fished you out after you fell into the river." Edward chuckled lightly. "You were too busy liberating snails to notice where you were walking. You even roped me into helping you."
Bella's eyes brightened with the memory. "Oh the snails! What happened to them?"
"I freed the rest of them, like I promised you. Before you left, you also told me not to forget you." Edward paused, gazing intently into her face. "I never did."
They sat staring at each other. Edward parted his lips, as if to speak. Just then, a sudden gust of wind threw a branch against the window with a violent noise, startling them both. They did not speak again that day.
That night, before she went to sleep, Bella pulled a box out from under her bed. She rummaged through the pieces of ribbon, seashells, notes scribbled with childish scrawls before she found the white handkerchief. It had been washed, but the shadow of blood stains remained.
Bella gently traced the initials embroidered into the corner, "E A C ",and laughed. Who gave a child monogrammed handkerchiefs? Maybe one day she'd discover what the "A" stood for.
As she clutched the yellowed piece of linen that belonged to the sweet, earnest boy she met 18 years ago, she wondered about the man he had grown up to become.
The poem Bella was reading when Edward surprised her was "Funeral Blues" by WH Auden. It was featured in the movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral". Sounds lovely read in a Scottish accent, doesn't it? :) (Btw the funny dots in between the stanzas are just there to create a break between them. I'm still struggling with ffn's formatting)
The poem Bella missed a line reading was "The Bait" by John Donne.
If you don't remember the handkerchief, in Chapter 1, young Edward used his pristine handkerchief to bandage Bella's bloody arm after he fished her out of the river.
Pictures of the Pride and Prejudice mentioned in Chapter 4, Cullen library and concealed library door are available on my profile.