The Portrait and The Letter

Chapter 16

At first, there was only darkness enveloping her, cold and frightening as she tried to get a grasp of her bearings. But she focused on one single point—a calm breath next to her, sounding through a thick fog. Bella did not let it go. It brought her out from the black pool, into a warmth she hadn't felt in a long while. Her skin prickled as she opened her eyes, soft sheets enveloping her as she stared into the warm lightbulb above her. The mattress, sheets, and pillows were so forgiving to her body and took away the tension and pain that would otherwise have been there. The only discomfort she noticed was around her neck and as memories of what had transpired started returning, she darted up from the bed.

She found herself inside a room with stacked board walls. The windows had been covered by heavy black drapes. The floor underneath the king-sized bed was mostly covered by a dark checkered rug that contrasted with the pale herringbone floors. She was in an ocean of sheets and pillows. Bella leaned against the wooden headboard, the warm lightbulb floating high above her, revealing a beamed ceiling. It looked like she was inside a cabin judging from the décor.

The calming breaths, that had previously anchored her back to reality, were gone. Bella still remembered the calming voice speaking to her in gentle and warm tones when she had not been able to breathe, how it had comforted her, and she now longed for it—still not able to place its owner although a part of her knew she had to know him.

Bella turned and looked to her right, knowing there had been a person there all the time albeit too confounded to face anyone at this moment. From his neck down sat the stoic and rigid SCR agent—the infamous Cullen she had come to be so well acquainted with, whom she had somehow come to want to trust despite knowing she shouldn't. From the neck up sat the man who had somehow managed to open her up, make her feel a warmth in her heart she didn't know she could feel again. The worry in his eyes betrayed his otherwise calm expression. The mask was off, and he wouldn't keep up any silly appearances despite knowing it was expected of him.

Bella opened her mouth to speak, to ask, to reprimand—whatever she was going to say never came out for all that sounded was a painful hiss before she closed her mouth and her delicate eyebrows knitted together as her eyes widened. Her hand instinctively went up to her throat as she looked at him for an answer.

"You were strangled," he said with strain as he looked at her. "It will take time, but you will get your voice back."

Bella's eyes widened further as she continued to look questioningly at him.

"Yes, we know who it was," he leaned forward to say. "Bella, you—"

Suddenly the door shot open and in walked the Director. His face, also settled into a stoic expression, was betrayed by the anger evident in his eyes.

"You shouldn't be here," he said to Edward.

Edward heatedly rose to face him. "She almost died." His jaw tightened as he stood between the Director and Bella. "She deserves to know."

The Director looked at Edward's face and the discarded mask on the table next to the bed. "She knows enough already."

"I'll take the consequences," Edward growled back. Bella had never heard that tone before in him and she understood there were many revelations waiting.

The Director looked at them both. "Rules are in place for a reason—"

"Then she should never have been roped into this in the first place."

"Ms. Dwyer made an informed choice—"

"You didn't tell her everything."

Behind them, the sheets ruffled as Bella got out of bed. She came face to face with the Director, the look in her eyes revealing what she could not say. Her face contorted into one of resignation. She was confused as to the situation but too tired to be angry with anyone. She just wanted answers, and Bella had a right to them—that much she understood.

Tell me.

"They already know of her, they won't stop until we put an end to this once and for all," Edward said.

The Director frowned, a twinge of guilt surging through him as he looked at the large brown eyes staring back at him in question and dismay. The horrid bruising around her neck only strengthened what may have transpired had Edward and his team not been quick to act.

"The truth. The whole truth."

Carlisle pondered the significance of this moment, something that had gone through his mind a few times since having met Isabella Dwyer. He would be going against everything he had previously worked so hard to establish. The SCR never divulged its secrets to a civilian. Alas, Bella was, as of now, no longer just any civilian.

Carlisle pursed his lips. "Then take a walk with me, Ms. Dwyer."

Bella looked from Carlisle to Edward with hesitation. For some reason, she didn't want to be too far parted from Edward, despite still being somewhat angry with him. However, when he nodded, she trusted in him enough to follow the Director.

She nodded back.

Edward couldn't do much more but watch as they left the room. He knew that the only way Carlisle would divulge any information would be if it was under his own conditions. He would break it to her as best as he could, of that Edward had no doubt. When they had brought her the previous night from Safeira, he saw in Carlisle a fear he hadn't seen since Edward's brother Oscar had passed. It was the fear of knowing Bella could have lost her life because of him.

The surroundings outside of the vast room were breathtaking, Bella found as she followed the Director. The darkness within the room made her eyes take longer to adjust as she stepped out into the warmth of the late June sun. They had indeed been in a cabin. It was built from stacked lodges, nestled at the side of a clearing, looking out over a small meadow that was dotted with small yellow and white flowers dancing softly in the afternoon breeze. Birch trees encircled the back of the cabin and some larger oak and aspen trees enveloped the clearing. In the far distance, she spotted mountains and wondered what range they belonged to. Carlisle followed her gaze.

"Durun mountains," he stated as they followed a worn path in the grass, taking them behind the cabin, amongst the birch trees. It was like walking through a fragrant natural cathedral, the sunlight spilling in between the leaves.

Were they back in Cadherra? Her questioning glance prompted Carlisle to speak again.

"Sorossa," he divulged, which was enough. She knew he had already informed her too much for his own liking, but maybe done so to appease her. She could read in him a sense of guilt.

Bella took a deep breath as she slowed her pace, enjoying the nature surrounding them. It felt good to breathe the fresh air, to feel the sun warm her skin and the breeze tug her hair. They neared a small rippling stream, the sound of rushing water mixing with the birdsong and shifting leaves calmed Bella. On the small path had been laid a crass wooden bench which Carlisle sat down on, making Bella seat herself next to him. They faced the running water and settled into an awkward silence as she waited for him to speak.

"We haven't been… forthright with you," Carlisle admitted after a while.

Bella arched an eyebrow and shook her head.

He sighed, his shoulders sinking. "You probably know who the agent guarding you is by now."

She nodded.

"Edward wanted us to be truthful with you from the start, but I was of another mindset. I didn't think it was necessary to tell you because I didn't foresee certain factors that would eventually lead to you being placed in your current predicament."

Predicament, Bella thought as she pondered the word.

"You once asked Edward if this was about more than just the portrait and the letter…" When Carlisle looked at her, he couldn't help but look impressed. "You astonish me with your perceptiveness, Ms. Dwyer.

She gave a hesitant nod.

Carlisle massaged his temples, thinking where to best start. "This spans decades… centuries of a conflict at the heart of Angloa… For you to understand what I am about to divulge, I must reveal the nature of the SCR," he said.

"The SCR was established to do the bidding of the people, outside of any other governmental body and working behind the scenes. Its members cannot be corrupted and bribed because they remain unknown, their identities are always hidden. You questioned me once about the ethical dilemma the SCR faces on a daily basis—which is to identify what is best for the people. I agree—how could we ever hold the hubris of thinking that we should determine the best for all Angloans?"

Bella nodded carefully in agreement.

"I suppose," he continued, "—as it is with any idea, assembly, or institution, be they small or large—the ideologies they first hold must seem so very black and white. The problem that once led the formation of any group, once overcome, leaves the group to fight similar problems that—over the course of time—take on more and more nuanced characteristics. What was once black and white becomes a mush of gray. The SCR supported governments, administrations, and royalty that we believed acted in the best interest of the people. When the SCR was first formed in 1795, we supported the brother of the then-sitting monarch. We helped him oust his older brother who had been squandering the country's economy and surrounded himself with bad advisors. We also played a part in the establishment of Article 13, which would never have gone through otherwise. It wasn't really until the 1940s that the SCR supported other big actions from prevalent members of the government or the royal house, always in the best interest of the general population. However, when King Alec took the throne, it was evident that we were facing difficult times ahead. You probably know the history better than anyone—how he was a known Nazi sympathizer, how his actions eventually led to the German invasion in '42, and the subsequent loss of many lives. The SCR tried to play a part in limiting his power in this matter, but for the first time, we faced a much stronger organization fighting against us. The SCR had faced pushback in the past but this time it was different. This organization operated like we did, in the shadows, behind the scenes. It had ties to powerful men in the government and the royal house—in this case, believed to have been backed by King Alec himself. The only information the SCR managed to find at the time before the inevitable invasion of the Germans were whispers of a group called The Council."

Somehow, such an insignificant name managed to chill Bella to the bone.

"The SCR went underground and tried to fight the invasion through means of acquiring information, always opposed by The Council which worked in unison with the Gestapo at the time. After the war, during the 60s, we managed to oust King Alec in favor of his second son—as his oldest renounced the throne. The Council, however, kept interfering in everything from general elections to misinformation… we had a difficult spout in the 80s but managed to get through it." It was evident that Carlisle had no wish to go further into whatever it was. "When Queen Leonore took the throne in 1996, Mr. Barker was as you know a prominent politician in the Conventus, having already been PM for a couple of terms. And, as you well know, during her reign he was PM until recently, when de la Cereda ousted him."

Bella didn't notice how her eyebrows had moved further and further up her forehead the more Carlisle spoke, nor how her breath had slowly shortened.

"We know Mr. Barker had ties to The Council, we know they had been interfering in the general elections since his second run, he would never have won otherwise. For much of the start of the 2000s, we tried to unmask him, but he was too well protected by The Council and they have always acted carefully, every move so calculated. So we tried to unmask the other members of The Council instead, which was easier said than done. We managed to get a name… two years ago, and it cost us all dearly."

Bella tried to remember if there had been any national headlines two years ago that could have been tied in with the information she had now received, but she couldn't think of anything.

"With that name, we eventually managed to ensure that the elections wouldn't be meddled with, which had Abigail win by a landslide…she of course has no idea we ever had anything to do with it. And now," Carlisle sighed, the backstory coming to an end so that he may focus on the main subject which he had been building up to, "now we sit here. Two years ago, the SCR team caught whiff of a coded message that was meant for a member of The Council regarding a significant portrait. The Council wanted it destroyed and we knew that we had to find it, regardless of what it was. Thus, we set on working to make it known to the public. It took a lot of strength and effort, and patience, especially not knowing what the portrait was or what significance it had for The Council. All we knew was that they were beyond desperate to hide it, desperate enough to commit a row of mistakes that eventually placed it in our hands. At the same time that we located the portrait, another line of communication unveiled the possible secret the portrait might be hiding. For some reason, The Council wanted, more than anything, for the secret to remain just that. It isn't surprising, really. We have theorized that most of them are extremist conservatives that want things to be kept to 'the old ways'. The secret of William Fell was kept for 500 years, they wouldn't want to uncover that anytime soon, especially not if it would interfere with the perception of the royal family."

Bella wondered if, in a twisted way, the queen had somehow been involved with The Council. Yet, her latest actions concerning Article 13 contradicted such a theory.

"We tried to bring in Dr. Everett first, to examine the portrait, but The Council got to him first. Had we not acted quicker, he would probably have disappeared entirely. The only way to save his life was to have him publicly forfeit the project. He more than agreed to do so. Thus, we settled on trying to find someone else… someone The Council wouldn't suspect we had contacted."

Carlisle looked at her poignantly, considering if he should reveal the following to her.

"One of the people we were looking at was somehow made known to The Council and disappeared…we haven't located them since and we fear the worst."

An unsettling feeling settled at the pit of Bella's stomach.

"You were the only choice left, the least obvious one… the one they would look past. You would help us determine if the portrait was the genuine one, and you had the right toolset to try to locate the letter that strengthened the revelation of the portrait. Our hope was that if you could locate the letter, The Council's more prominent members, in an act of desperation, would leave themselves open… In the long time the SCR has fought The Council, we have never seen them this desperate, this careless. Their preoccupation with retrieving the portrait and finding the letter has made them weaker beyond our expectations. It has left an opening to finally take them down. After everything they have done, Ms. Dwyer, we need to bring these people out into the open. They have put their sole effort into the secret of the Fells for now, imagine if we should fail, and they direct their efforts elsewhere. How long then would you truly think Abigail de la Cereda would remain at her post?"

He cast a glance her way. "The portrait and the letter were just a preface to what has been happening recently… The Council has been interfering with the invocation of Article 13 and we fear they might try to take stronger actions now toward Her Highness Victoria since she stands against everything they represent. We fear she could, somehow, be in danger. Weeding them out as quickly as possible, bringing them into the eye of the public, and processing them through the justice system would—we hope—bring an end to them once and for all."

Carlisle took in the sight of the young woman as she stared at the rippling stream, her eyes wide and something sparkling behind them as she processed his words. There were a few moments when she started turning to him as if wishing to ask a question. In the last moment, she stopped herself, pondering once more on the massive amount of new information dumped on her—information she had insisted she know from the start. Now that she was entirely informed, Bella wished she hadn't been. This type of information could get her killed. Well, she reasoned with herself, she had almost gotten killed regardless of having known all this or not.

Then, suddenly, as if struck by lightning, she remembered the breaking news of the previous day—news that she had been pondering since reading them on her phone.

She turned to Carlisle, trying to produce the words but they only emerged a strangled mess.

He put up a hand to silence her and fished out a smartphone, swiping to the notebook app. He handed it to Bella and gestured for her to write. Eagerly she took the phone and typed the words.

Grave of Isabella and William empty!

Carlisle nodded as he read the words. "The letter wasn't there."

Did you empty it beforehand?

Carlisle shook his head. "The grave was opened a long time ago, but there is as of yet no consensus if the coffins were moved then or if they had never been buried there from the start."

Then where? Bella wondered.

"Look, Ms. Dwyer, I know you have been through more than you asked for. I promised Edward I wouldn't ask, but you understand my standpoint, don't you? The Council doesn't seem to know more about the letter than we do. There is still time to find it ahead of them and make a case that reveals who William Fell and Edward Cullen truly were. In doing so, I am certain they will act in desperation and that is when we will strike against them."

She looked at him poignantly.

"I have told you much more than I was ever allowed to do in the hopes that you would reconsider aiding us."

Bella arched an eyebrow.

"Knowing, of course, that you would want to be included now in every aspect of this operation."

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, as if more openly displaying the bruising around her neck.

"We would offer you every security, but we can't allow you to return to your daily life until The Council is dismantled."

She quickly typed on the phone and handed it over to him. Before he had read it, Bella got up and started making her way back to the house.

This is not so black and white to me either.

Carlisle couldn't help as a chuckle overtook him.


Bella recuperated for three days, mostly hanging around the lodge, taking strolls close by, dipping her feet into the stream, and sunbathing whenever it got too hot. Edward was with her the entire time. And as he spent time with her, in a strange silence, she settled into a quietness she had never known could be so comfortable, even less with him. She had always tried to fill the awkward silence with her usual mumbling. But now, that she was not physically able to speak, it was as if a general calm befell her. Edward wouldn't confess it, but while he enjoyed seeing her strangely serene in her safe haven, he missed her babbling.

On the third day, her vocal cords were healed enough for her to start speaking again and not sound horrible. There was a strain to her voice, it did not come out as soft and gentle as before, but she knew giving it time would eventually return it to her.

It was a Thursday, and the warm afternoon air was thick and heavy with rain. Angry gray clouds loomed on the other side of the Durun Mountains. Edward lounged with her inside of the lodge, with the air conditioner on full blast. He had foregone his SCR uniform, dressed down in nothing but a thin T-shirt and khaki pants, looking through some ledgers—old reports, he told her. Bella regarded him as he relaxed against the luxurious leather cushions of the maroon couch. These past three days of them not really speaking had been the strangest days in their relationship yet. He had not tried to explain himself, and she had not demanded he should. But in his actions, it was very clear to her that he blamed himself for what had happened to her, and that the twinge of guilt was also accompanied by the fact that he had lied to her.

She closed her encyclopedia on Angloan history with a large bang.

"Why is the captain of the SCR called Cullen?" she asked in a raspy voice.

Edward looked up with wide eyes, as if caught off guard.

"Pardon?" the pencil he'd been holding in his mouth fell out with a thud on the thick white carpet.

"You all have codenames derived from animals… the others have color marks to identify them and you have the pin of a Lion… yet you don't go by the codename 'Lion'."

"I don't."

"So… why is the captain of the SCR called Cullen?" she asked again.

He shrugged. "Because that was the codename of the founding SCR member," he blinked.

Bella paused, registering this new information. He regarded her as her brain worked, his eyes trailing down her form, his hands tightening around the ledger despite himself.

"The SCR wouldn't happen to… have ties to the Ghost of Raven's Grove, would it?"

He shrugged again, giving her a sly smile.

Thunder roared outside as the summer rain approached.

"This Council you are facing…your plan doesn't seem to add up."

"What do you mean?"

"You are supposing they will somehow act in a rush should you find the letter…almost as if you are forcing their hand. But how do you know they will?"

Edward leaned forward, putting the ledgers and reports aside. "Because," he said as his eyes darkened—like the sky outside, "they consider it their duty to protect the secret of William Fell."

Bella frowned. "And how will you…force their hand." She leaned forward now too, their faces slowly closing in on each other now.

His eyes glanced down at her lips, then back up at her. "In trying to stop us, they will all reveal themselves."

Despite the air conditioning, Bella felt hot suddenly, trapped under his gaze. It was strange, because she had been in his company many times before, but had never felt this sudden rush of emotions hit her. It was like she was, for the first time, aware of him and his body, of the way his chest moved with his breath, of the line of his neck and collarbone or the muscles so apparent and unhidden under his T-shirt.

She stood up. Absolutely not! She told herself. The last thing she needed was Edward Athar disturbing her strangely newfound peace.

He stood up with her, almost as if on reflex.

Rain started splattering against the French doors leading out of the living room and to the terrace facing the meadow.

"Knowing where the letter is now is impossible," she admitted. Bella looked down. "I don't think I can help you anymore. I'm of no use."

She had resigned herself to remain in her strange witness protection program, now entirely reliant that they find the letter before The Council did.

A gentle hand guided her to face him. "That is the furthest from the truth you could ever be, and you know it."

Chocolate eyes sparkled as the rain increased with force outside, mimicking the same tempest that had enveloped them just a week earlier outside Adelton Hall.

"I promise we will find the letter, you will be away from this mess soon, Bella."

She couldn't help but shiver as he said her name. It was so strange, she knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help but trust him.

She glanced at the scattered papers next to him on the couch. "Those reports," she started. "They concern this mission, don't they?"

He glanced down at them, then back up at her.

"I have been trying to wrap my head around this whole ordeal. That this is so much more than just revealing William Fell's secret," she said.

Bella locked eyes with Edward, she wanted to hear it from him, not from the Director, not from a disguised voice on the other side of the phone. She needed to hear it from the only man she knew she could trust because depending on what he would tell her, she had a decision to make—a decision that could very well determine the future of everything she held dear.

"Abigail de la Cereda and Victoria Fell really are in danger, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Then… I will find you that letter."


Samuel chewed his nails, which he always did when he was nervous. He had gathered a small group of men loyal to him and to what he represented. The latest rumors circulating the closed doors of Safeira now were that Leonore was considering abdicating the crown to Victoria in order to secure the establishment of Article 13. Once Victoria took the crown it would be too late for Samuel to act.

Lord Ascham had been a most opportune ally in all of this. With the strings he held in the Conventus, he had managed to attract several of its more conservative members. In the small smoking room of his Zafra estate, sat not only members of the Conventus, but also the highest of Angloan nobility. Dukes and Counts from established and wealthy families, the crème de la crème of upper society, graced the refined halls of the Zafra palace. There was a most distinguished person present, Mr. Barker himself. Well into his eighties, he had retired from the world of politics after his defeat by de la Cereda, but one call from Samuel and Ascham was all it took for him to return.

Now they sat in silence as the rain poured outside, the prince who had summoned them looking at the old and haggard faces. There was one he missed in the assembly, that of a dear old friend. Edward hadn't come, despite his summons. Samuel would have thought that his old friend if anyone would rush to his side. Edward came from the oldest ally the Fells had. He, as an Athar, knew his duty was to Samuel and not Victoria. At least that was how Samuel viewed it.

Samuel sipped on the brandy. "Watched the news lately, gentlemen?" he asked.

A general chuckle stirred in the group. Samuel took another sip.

"You know, in the old days, even having a small gathering such as this could be constituted as treason. Now, I know my mother of course, and know she wouldn't very well hang any one of us. But suffice it to say that breathing a word of this union outside these walls would cost that individual dearly. Am I clear?"

Mr. Barker's chuckles resounded against the paneled walls of the room. "My dear lad, we are more than aware of the implication of attending this meeting. You do not have to tell us twice."

"While I am not for decorum, I would remind you, Mr. Barker, that you are speaking to your future king and that he is not a lad." Samuel pursed his lips

Mr. Barker's sagging face turned into a sly grin, the short white beard not managing to hide his sagging chins. His rosy cheeks and large blue eyes, together with the neatly coiffed white hair betrayed his rather disagreeable character. For, while his appearance reminded one more of old Santa Claus himself, his severe disposition certainly did not. The judgmental look in his eyes removed any gentleness that was otherwise expected to be found in them.

"That position is not secured, yet you sit here playing politics with the cadence of a little boy! If you want to be king, behave like one," he said as his eyes narrowed. "If there is one thing you should learn from that mother of yours, is that duty to the crown comes above all else, and that scandals such as the ones you have been involved with must come to an end lest you soil the very idea you represent."

Samuel shrugged, despite the insult having touched him. He knew Mr. Barker was untouchable for he was one of the most influential supporters Samuel had. Mr. Barker would be able to rally most of the conservative right in the Conventus and he would also bring a big chunk of the Angloan people with him.

"But that is why we are all here, isn't it?" Lord Ascham interrupted. "Because we understand the ways of convention, and how things should be."

"Had I won the last term, none of this would ever have happened," Barker shouted in irritation as he closed his fat fist.

"Victoria Fell must not rule, Article 13 or not. We all know this to be true," Ascham said as he looked out over the expectant faces, Samuel nodding next to him.

"But what can be done? The Conventus has shown us that we hold no true power there now, not with de la Cereda," someone asked.

"We have already spoken of this," Barker said as he crossed eyes with Ascham. "There are two fronts we must conquer, de la Cereda and Victoria."

"What do you suggest, Mr. Barker?" Samuel asked as he took another sip of the brandy.

"Victoria must forfeit the crown and de la Cereda must approve it."

"My sister will not renounce the crown now, not with mother backing her and de la Cereda would never lose this opportunity to get her way in the Conventus."

Barker shrugged. "All these women need is a gentle suggestion which we aim to give them."


A/N: Do excuse the long wait for this chapter. I have been abroad for vacation and didn't bring my computer with me! :)

Thanks for reading and many thanks for the reviews on the previous chapter, they are always so uplifting and appreciated!

Cheers,

Isabelle