AN: Early update because I'm off out for the day
Thank you for taking the time to read and I love every single review
Thanks to SarcasticBimbo who has been struggling with back paid for beta'ing and to MeteorOnAMoonlessNight who somehow found the time to pre-read whilst writing her own wonderful stories
Usual deisclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and Edward Cullen
Irrevocable
Summary
It doesn't matter when I live my life, as long as it's with you.
Chapter 4
Bella
After grabbing my favorite coffee and a pastry at the café, I settled into a seat outside under the shade of one of the large green umbrellas and opened my laptop. The first thing I Googled was Edward Cullen, of course. That brought me very little information, so I tried Carlisle instead and found a minor mention of his name associated with the Chicago Chronicle; it would appear that he sold it to the current owners in 1902. The next step was checking the births, deaths and marriage listings, and the best way to find those was at the library.
Logging on to the library search system, I used the dates in Esme's journal to find her marriage to Viscount Carlisle Cullen in 1870; the certificate showing that his place of birth was England. Obviously, there would be no record of Carlisle Cullen's birth in the States, given that he was born in England, so I followed that with a search over the next five years; I figured that children were usually born fairly soon in a marriage. The birth certificate for Edward Anthony Cullen showed that he was born in June 1872, and I could find no other births, telling me he was an only child.
Checking the records for the next twenty-five years, I found his marriage to Mary-Alice Isabella Brandon in 1897 and, looking back through the records, I worked out that she was only seventeen. That was way too young as far as I was concerned, but I knew that was normal at the time.
I remembered how, in my dreams, he had said that he had thought my name was Mary-Alice. Why would I dream that? There was nowhere in Esme's journal that mentioned her name, only that Edward was not happy in his marriage.
Shockingly, the register of deaths told a tale of the end of each of their lives ... all of them ... close together. Mary-Alice in 1900 at only twenty, her cause of death listed as childbirth. Edward followed a short two years later, his cause of death cirrhosis, and I wondered if there was more to it than that. Esme's journal told of his unhappiness; that was followed very soon by Esme and then Carlisle, in 1905 and 1906. Such a lot of tragedy, so quickly!
Wanting to find out more about their lives, I asked the librarian where I could find more information. She suggested looking through the old newspapers, which were now stored online, so I spent the next few hours reading about the Cullen family; how Edward took over the family business after a short stint in the army, and then his downfall after the death of his wife in childbirth. The papers followed the tragic sale of the business and the deaths of his mother of natural causes and that of his father less than a year later.
The more I read the more my tears fell, mostly for Edward, both at the loss of his wife and child, then for his death. In my head I knew this had already happened, but in my heart it felt more recent and it broke for them all. I printed off the relevant pages, thinking that I should complete the journal telling the final parts of the story.
After taking a short break and a walk in the sunshine, I felt a little better and turned my attention to the inscriptions and the words in Esme's last journal. To my mind it seemed a bit out of context and I was keen to work out why she would have included this bizarre item in what was, to all intents and purpose, an ordinary account of her life. It was disturbing, however, that there was nothing more written beyond it.
Trying several poetry websites brought nothing; it didn't bring a match with anything. Feeding the words into a site that showed up in a Google search, it all seemed to point to magic and spells, at which I shook my head; I didn't believe in that rubbish. After an hour or more of fruitless searching, I gave up, deciding to just leave it as it was; a bit of a dead end.
I spent the evening, after making a meal of cold chicken and salad, vegging out in front of the TV watching reruns of Friends. No matter what I watched, the thought of Edward and his future, or lack thereof, bled through everything.
That night, visions of Edward stalked me through my dreams, alternating from the look on his face when I pushed him over the edge that night, to a red-eyed dishevelled man, filled with anger and remorse. I woke feeling as if I had not slept at all, and looking into the mirror that was reflected back at me. I really didn't feel up to work, so I called Angela, telling her that although I was much better, I would be returning the following day.
Throughout the day Wednesday, I drifted in and out of sleep, my dreams always returning to the two visions of Edward. In the end, I took a long bath, which did the trick and allowed me to sleep solidly into early Thursday.
Work was the same as usual, editing articles, changing layouts, and answering calls, but my mind was not one hundred percent on my tasks. By lunchtime, I was feeling a little livelier, and joined Angela, Jessica, and Lauren at our usual café. My question about whether or not I had been stupid enough to sleep with Mike was answered by almost an hour of nauseating bragging from Jessica about the weekend they spent together.
With that sorted out and with the lack of anything else to go on, the only thing I could do was shelve the whole issue. The evenings were spent adding together the extracts from the newspapers about the remaining lives of the Cullens. It was the least I could do, and as the impact Dream-Edward had had on my body faded, so did the memories. The longing for him and missing him, however, didn't; it just grew stronger.
Edward
Work was supposed to be a distraction, but thoughts of Bella invaded every minute of the day. Her passion and manner were exciting; I just couldn't get the picture of the woman who stood by me in the church out of my head. It was as if they were two different people, but nonetheless she intrigued me, as no one had ever done before.
For once, the printing business couldn't hold my attention, so at just after two I threw my pen down and stalked out of the office, heading home. I was determined I would get some answers today.
When I arrived back home, my mother met me in the entrance hall. Wringing her hands, she worriedly told me that she had had the most bizarre conversation with Mary-Alice, or Bella as she still was in my mind. Mother insisted that it was imperative she speak to me right now, so I followed her into the drawing room, where she poured me a drink as I took a seat.
"Well, come on, Mother, spit it out."
"I have to say, Edward," she began, "That Mary-Alice ..." She stopped at my glare. "Well, she seems a little delusional. She is adamant that ... that ... she," her voice lowered to an embarrassed whisper, "That she is still pure."
She stopped to take a sip of her drink, allowing a moment to compose herself. This was undoubtedly a conversation she had never envisioned herself having, especially with her son.
My voice softened, "Go on, Mother, what else did she say?"
"Oh, Edward, she says she didn't want to marry you and that she has no intention of consummating the marriage. I'm so sorry I put you in this position, you deserve so much more."
I was on my feet in a second. "What the hell is she talking about? It's already done; consummated!" Anger coursed through me as I headed towards the door, determined to have this out with her once and for all.
"Wait, Edward, there's more." Her voice halted me with my hand on the door knob. "Be careful, I'm not sure if there isn't something wrong with her, she was babbling on about being somewhere else, wearing strange clothes that left her legs uncovered, and talking about strange machines that talked to themselves."
None of this seemed to fit with the passionate girl in bed with me last night, but I needed answers, so that was what I was going to get.
"Don't worry, Mother, I'll sort it out. Thank you for your help, I will take it from here.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I headed for my chambers, only to find them empty. There was nothing out of place, though that was not unusual, as Rose would have done her rounds of the rooms earlier today. I did expect to see the closet filled with Mary-Alice's clothes as these rooms were to become our chambers, but they were as empty as they had been this morning when I left for work.
The only other place I could think she would be was the guest chamber, where she had stayed before our marriage. I whirled and left the room at a fast pace and made my way along the landing to the other end of the house. Knocking on the door, a muffled voice told me to go away.
I tried the door, finding it locked. "Come on, Be ... Mary-Alice; it's Edward. Let me in, please. We need to talk."
I heard quick footsteps walking towards the door, but she didn't unlock it. "What do you want, Edward?"
"It would be easier if we could talk face to face, Mary-Alice. Open the door, please."
"There is nothing to talk about." She repeated what my mother had already told me.
"But, what about last night?" My voice was almost desperate; surely she remembered. It wasn't my imagination. "You're denying what we did?"
"Edward, whatever you think happened last night, it wasn't with me," she reiterated. "I will not give myself to someone I don't love, and I'm sorry ... I do not love you..." She sounded sorry, too. "We'll talk more another time; goodnight."
Her footsteps walked away from the door and there was silence. Pacing up and down outside the door, tugging on my hair in frustration, I tried to think what I could do now. Short of kicking the door in, nothing came to mind.
Marching down the stairs, I threw open the front door, ignoring the questions drifting after me from my mother. Yelling for Emmett, he met me in the stable and together we left the estate for the bar. I, for one, intended on getting very, very drunk.
**Irrevocable**