Alright, sorry for the humongous delay, but honestly, I was put off when I learnt Esme never meets Carlisle again after her fall- I couldn't make myself write. Anyhow, in this chapter Esme as a human will see Carlisle for the last time. A little favour from the readers- any good Twilight Reference websites? I currently Wiki the facts, but as I've learnt since, they're not detailed enough.

Y'all get back to the story now. Thanks bunches for the support, please keep R&R-ing!

Scarlett Rage

I have to leave. Now.

I see Carlisle Cullen being escorted away by a manservant. I know the offer will be made now. For the first time since I entered the hall, I see a genuine smile- a smile of anticipation- on Eleanor's face.

I have to find out what he says- first hand. I have to leave the hall.

I turn to the man talking to me, a suave, dark-haired man I don't know, and don't fancy. I cut into his rambling anecdote with a hurried "Excuse me" and rush away, trying my best not to break into a run.

They are receiving him in Father's small private smoking room, adjacent to the morning room, where we usually have all our meals instead of the large, grand dining room. The morning room is empty, and fortunately silent; I can only hear a slight buzz coming from the crowd in the hall.

They have already been in there for nearly five minutes. I hurry to the door, and press my ear to the crack. I can only hear muffled, indistinct voices. Biting my lip to keep my groan of frustration in, I look around, hoping to find something to inspire and aid me.

My eyes rest on the ornate sideboard.

Tricky, but manageable.

I quickly slip off my spangled shoes, and lift one of my stocking-ed feet onto to the handle of a drawer. The sideboard in our home is ridiculously high- apparently in fashion at the moment. In any case, the added height only facilitates me at moment, and so, I hoist myself up onto the expensive veneered top. In a second, I am perched precariously on the sideboard- precariously, because the surface is filled with trays of drinks. I should be careful, or I'm in for cartloads of trouble.

There is a little ventilating window on the top of the door, above the frame. Very colonial, people often say, but my Father has eccentric tastes. And who am I to judge him? All his eccentricity is helping me now. I press my face to the glass, slightly angled, so that my ear gets the best of the eavesdropping.

I find that I am just in time.

"… the good fortune of being our- our son."

I can see Carlisle Cullen, facing me. My parents have their backs to me, and for that, I thank God fervently in my mind.

Dr. Cullen looks visibly touched. I examine his face, fear rising in my chest. Surely… he wouldn't say yes?

"Mr. Platt, Madam Platt," he begins. Madam Platt? Such a dear, old-fashioned gentleman!

"I am deeply, deeply honoured by your offer. I do not take it lightly that you find it in yourself to trust me to such an extent."

There is a pause.

Mother can't contain herself. She leans forward, "So your answer is…?"

His face slackens. "My answer is no."

There is a pause, quite a different pause. I feel euphoria and fear rise in me in equal proportions. Why not? Does he not like my family?

The angel rushes into speech and answers my question. "Please believe me, I have nothing personally against your family, or your good daughter. I just do not see myself getting married in the near future."

"Why not?" Father rumbles. He sounds affronted.

Dr. Cullen smiles. I see Mother's back stiffen, and I nearly slip off the sideboard myself. Goodness, this man's smile is magical.

"Because I am not what is commonly termed as a 'family man'. I am dedicated to my profession, Mr. Platt, dedicated to such an extent that I should say my work is my marriage. I want to serve the sick, help the poor, those who cannot afford the expensive doctors and their treatments. I will not settle in one place. I will keep traveling, finding new places to offer my humble services. And I do not seek to make a lot of money out of it. I will not save, or scourge, or keep for myself. I will give, give, and give away more. Your daughter needs and deserves someone better than me- someone who can take care of her well, and pamper her. I am sorry to say, I am not that man. I will not give her the attention a wife like her merits, and it is foolish to pretend I would do otherwise."

I listen to him spellbound, and I'm sure my parents are, too. He is truly an angel in every, every sense.

Mother breaks the silence. "But surely you wouldn't want to do this all your life? Surely- you will want a family in the future. What then?"

Somehow, my mother's words seem to have touched a nerve. His face hardens, but when he answers, his voice is as mild as ever. "It would be cruel indeed to make your daughter wait for an uncertain number of years and leave her depending on my whims and fancies."

"I wasn't thinking of that." My mother says quickly. I can almost sense the embarrassing blush in her cheeks as she speaks. "I was thinking- of Esme."

Now, I am the one with the embarrassment. My cheeks flush a deep, deep red, making the rouge on them quite unnecessary. I feel hot and light-headed and nearly swoon off the sideboard.

Even Dr. Cullen is startled. "Esme...?"- my father mutters.

And even as Father breathes my name, Carlisle Cullen looks up at me. Straight into my face, his gaze unwavering, speculative. As though he has already seen me here. His eyes of liquid fire seem to burn every cell in my body.

Slowly, he shifts his gaze back to my parents. "Even for Miss Esme…" My breath catches in my throat. It is the first time I have ever heard him speak my name. "Even for her, Mrs. Platt. She is undoubtedly a very lovely girl, but still, she would be sadly betrayed by me and my single-mindedness. In any case," he grins a mischievous, heart-stopping smirk, and glances at me, "after this evening, I shouldn't think Miss Esme will ever have a problem finding a suitable husband. I'm sure she'll get any sort of man she sets her fancy upon."

I freeze, the colour draining from under my skin. My lips are set in a firm, hard line, and I see red, to put it commonly. The insolent man! Anger flows within me, masking the slow, deep throbs of pain and hurt… Just because we deign to shower him with such attention, he dares insult me such a snide, base way! "Any sort of man"- what on earth does he mean by that!

Furiously, I turn away from the window and leap off the sideboard. My dress sweeps two glasses onto the floor, where they shatter with a crash. I don't even glance at them. I slip my feet into the shoes with a huff, and swish out of the room, not caring whether anyone saw me or not.

My eyes are brimming with tears of rage as I emerge into the ballroom. Several men immediately gravitate towards me. Beaming a deadly, dangerous smile at them, I snatch the hand of the man closest to me and sweep him into the middle of the dance floor, joining the other couples in mid-song. Several people are staring at me, but I smile beatifically at the man who is dazedly leading me, my eyes belying the intense emotions within me.

He did notice me, after all. Only not in the way I wanted… I smile widely at Eleanor as we pass her, not looking at her, but in fact keeping the tears in check.

Nevertheless, that night after the party, I collapse into bed with tears streaming down my face, sleep eluding me all night through…