Author's Note: WOW, thank you all so much for the warm reception to the first chapter! I so appreciate every follow and review. I know investing in a WIP so early can often be disappointing, so I will do my best to live up to your expectations!
As an FYI, I am writing a chapter or two ahead here and I'm working off a very detailed scene-by-scene outline, so I know where I'm going. I'm expecting to end up at 20-25 chapters, depending on how long some of the scenes end up being in practice.
Now, with no further ado, I give you...THE encounter!
I spent the first few days at Culwoode Hall probing Nessie's knowledge, sussing out gaps to fill and interests to encourage. It seemed her former nanny had been a lover of literature as well and as a result, her reading skills were more advanced than most children her age. Her arithmetic and penmanship, however, left much to be desired, and she'd had little to no instruction on the natural world or history.
Overall, though, I found Nessie sharp and eager to learn, and teaching her was a great pleasure. She was endlessly curious, asking probing questions that often made me laugh in delight at the insights they revealed. And though she whined through rote memorization and repetitive exercises, she had an inherently cheerful nature that made it easy to divert her away from complaints.
By my third day, we'd settled into a nice rhythm that we carried on through the week. Alice helped Nessie dress in the morning, a task that they both very much seemed to relish, much to my bemusement. I was a bit out of my depth when it came to the finer points of clothes and accessories, but they approached dressing like a competitive sport.
Four days a week, Ben Cheney and Angela came from town, arriving around the time Nessie and I finished breakfast. Angela would shoo us out of the kitchen to begin her cleaning duties, and we retreated to the drawing room for morning lessons. The long room was quite formal but got much better natural light than the library thanks to the large bay windows on either side, plus came with the added benefit of fewer distractions in the form of books.
As we worked, Alice would flit in and out or Ben would catch Nessie's eye out the window with a Chaplin-esque comedy routine. But for the most part, it was just Nessie and me until Iunch, which Angela made fresh when she was there or left cold for us in the icebox when she was not.
Ben joined us in the kitchen then, though he always brought his own food in his lunch pail. He amused Nessie with silly faces and outrageously bad jokes, but I quickly began to suspect it was not the child, but rather Angela who enticed him to the kitchen door at noontime.
After lunch, I sent Nessie to play for an hour while I corrected her morning's work before calling her back to our makeshift study room. Afternoon lessons I kept short, focusing more on the subjects that truly captured her attention. By the time we finished, she often was motivated to investigate further on her own and would run to the library to see what books her uncle might have on similar topics.
With lessons finished, I would either help Angela with her final tasks or begin making supper for Nessie and me. Alice, it seemed, had an appetite that matched her avian energy. She preferred to take her very light meals upstairs, though she usually came to sit with us in the servants' hall while we ate dinner.
Every night without fail, Nessie begged Alice for news of her Uncle Edward the moment she appeared in the room. "Is he coming tomorrow?" she'd ask eagerly.
I'd been at Culwoode a week when Alice finally gave Nessie the answer she wanted. "I think so," she said, scrunching her nose. "He said this morning that he has one more appointment tomorrow before he leaves Olympia. So unless something unexpected comes up, he ought to be home before dinner."
Nessie squealed in excitement. "Miss Bella, you'll finally get to meet Uncle Edward!" she cried, clapping her hands together.
I laughed and put a gentle hand on top of her head. "Yes, I suppose I will," I said. "Is Mr. Hale coming with him?"
Alice shook her head. "Jasper's in Vancouver at the moment, working on some shipping contracts. But he'll come to fetch me soon after Edward returns."
The Cullens, I'd learned, owned land in several states and Canada, including some hundreds of acres of timber forest here along the Calawah. The family split up the management of the many businesses that fell under their ownership, which accounted for Edward and Jasper's current absences, and kept residences near the largest operations. But Alice had hinted that the origins of her family's wealth was far older than any of the current enterprises, going back to Carlisle's ancestors during the English Reformation under Henry VIII. I'd begun to wonder if my idle thought that Culwoode Hall could have been lifted from the British countryside might actually be true.
"You're leaving?" Nessie's shaky voice captured my full attention. She was staring at Alice with shining wide eyes, her brow furrowed.
Alice gave her a sympathetic look. "Oh, darling," she murmured, reaching over to touch the girl's cardigan-clad shoulder. "I told you I could only stay for a few weeks. Uncle Jasper and I have our own home."
"Is it very far?" Nessie asked.
"A bit," Alice admitted gently. "But we'll still be able to visit. And you'll have Uncle Edward and Miss Bella—"
"And Miss Angela and Mr. Ben," Nessie finished with a tentative smile. "I know. But I'll still miss you."
Alice's mouth twisted, and I thought she might tear up herself, but she held her emotions in check. "And I'll miss you," she said, reaching up to stroke Nessie's copper-blonde head tenderly. "But I'm here now, so no reason to blub just yet."
Nessie giggled obligingly, but I thought I could see a bit of worry in her brow still. I resolved to do something fun with her the next day to ease the sting of Alice's upcoming departure.
As luck would have it, we woke to a rare sunny morning, cold and crisp, with no clouds interrupting the bright blue sky. Frost clung to every surface, turning the gardens and manicured lawn behind the house into a field of diamonds.
Unfortunately, Alice had a headache that kept her in bed, but I took Nessie outside first thing to stomp through the crunchy grass, drawing patterns on the frozen lawn before the sun peeked over the mountains and melted it all.
Morning lessons felt like more of a drag than usual, and I struggled to keep Nessie on task. She was wriggling and desperate to get outside, the excitement of the fine weather and her uncle's imminent arrival making focus impossible.
The third time Nessie ran to the window to look for the motorcar she swore she'd heard, I decided to give up the ghost. "I'll make you a deal," I said. "If you finish your spelling worksheet with no errors and give me your best penmanship, we'll make a picnic lunch and go outside for the afternoon."
That was enough of an enticement—Nessie was heads-down over her workbook in a flash, filling out the exercises in her most careful script. Predictably, she executed them all flawlessly, so I sent her to put on play clothes while I gathered a few things Angela had left in the icebox to make a portable meal.
I hadn't yet had much occasion to explore the grounds of Culwoode, so Nessie took me through the gardens, showing off her knowledge of plants gleaned from hours following Ben around as he worked. She started by showing me to the formal, walled rose garden hidden amidst a grove of trees to one side of the house. The roses themselves were no more than thorny branches at this time of year, but I made a great show of admiring the lovely classical fountain at the center and statues scattered throughout. From there, Nessie led me across the wide lawn to where the ground started to slope gently down. There was a creek there that gurgled happily and a small stone bridge that led to a path into the woods.
"Where does that go?" I asked.
"The tennis court," she said as though it were the obvious answer. "Auntie Alice says you can follow it all the way to the river, but I haven't gone that far yet. Mr. Ben said there's bears and wolves and things in the woods, so I'm not to go alone."
My eyes widened at this, though I realized I shouldn't be surprised—Culwoode Hall was certainly well into the wilderness, so of course wild animals would be a reality.
By tacit agreement, we opted not to continue down the shady path, choosing instead to eat our lunch on the bridge where we could better enjoy the rare sunshine. After, we played games on the lawn until our lungs were set to burst from all the running and laughter.
After our third rousing game of hide-and-seek, Nessie collapsed on the now-dry grass, panting and giggling, and I sat down beside her to catch my breath.
"Did you play games like this when you were little?" she asked me when she could speak again.
I smiled crookedly, unsure how to answer. "Not exactly," I said, looking at the vast lawn and extravagant gardens and mentally comparing them to the small house without electricity where I'd grown up. "I remember I liked to play pretend more than running amok—though my father liked to take me bicycling now and again."
"Really?" Nessie said, sitting up to look at me eagerly. "I never learned to ride a bicycle. Uncle Edward said he would teach me but he's been too busy."
I looked at the sun in the sky—we had a few hours of light left. "Does that mean there's a bicycle stashed away here somewhere?" I asked, grinning.
Indeed there was—two, in fact, neatly tucked in the shed by the kitchen yard. We took the smaller one out to the circular drive and set to work right away, Nessie practicing pedaling while I held on to keep her upright.
After an hour or so, she was getting the feel for balancing without my help, though I had to hold the seat still to get her started. The gravel was a bit of a problem for learning to push off, however; the wheels would sink down and suddenly slip in a way that made it difficult. So we moved further up the drive to the dirt track, hardened from the sunshine and chill.
Before long, the sun had sunk below the treeline and clouds had rolled in from the coast. We were both starting to shake a bit without the warmth of the rays on our backs. We'd made it further down the road than I'd realized, the house no longer in view.
"All right, Nessie," I called to her, some 20 feet away. "I think it's time to go thaw out now."
She shoved her feet down into the ground to stop herself, having not quite figured out the finer points of staying upright while braking just yet. As she swung her leg over the tire to dismount, we suddenly both heard it: the distant sound of an engine coming up the drive.
"Uncle Edward!" Nessie shouted, dropping the bike where it stood as she jumped up onto a fallen log on the side of the track, trying to catch the first glimpse of him.
The motorcar, a sleek black-and-red sedan that looked like an entirely different species from the old Model T Ben drove, appeared around the bend in the road. Nessie squealed and leaped off the log, waving wildly as she ran to meet it.
I followed more sedately, attempting to hastily tuck the loose curls that had escaped my bun back into place.
The car pulled to a stop and the window rolled down, a tweed-clad arm appearing from its depths. I tried to catch a glimpse of the driver's face through the windshield as I approached, but the reflection of the grey clouds on the glass blocked my view.
Nessie jumped up on the runnerboard, gripping the top of the door as she chattered away. A smooth tenor laugh sounded in response, as warm and melting as an expertly played cello.
I stopped a few steps behind Nessie and finally caught a glimpse of the man I'd heard so much about through his open window.
He was already watching me curiously. As our gazes met, I felt a jolt in my stomach.
His eyes were shockingly dark, nearly black, and looking into their depths made me feel as though I'd been plunged into a fathomless dark sea. I was frozen, powerless to look away.
After a mere instant, Edward turned his attention back to Nessie, breaking our eye contact.
Dazed, I blinked to clear the burning sensation that had engulfed my skin, trying to regain my composure.
Beautiful, was the only thought in my head.
A blush rose in my cheeks—I almost feared he could hear me. But I couldn't help making a study of him while Nessie had him distracted.
His bronze hair, parted and lightly brushed back at the sides but swooping somewhat messily over his forehead on top, was a little darker than Nessie's but shared that same metallic glint. He was as pale as Alice, with lilac-grey hollows under his eyes that somehow enhanced the planes of his face rather than detracted.
The dark eyes were something too, I thought—a glint of danger, but all the more alluring for it.
"Nessie, aren't you going to introduce us?" he asked his niece, leaning closer to the window. His speaking voice was as lovely as his laugh.
I forced my eyes to the girl, but I could see him watching me out of my peripheral vision.
"Oh, yes!" Nessie said, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer to the automobile. "Miss Bella, this is Uncle Edward."
The wind picked up suddenly, blowing the loose strands of hair back into my face. I brushed them away so I could see—and immediately wished I hadn't.
Edward Cullen's handsome face had completely transformed into a frozen mask of fury. The hand that had rested so casually against the open window was now a clenched fist, the tendons straining against his white skin, and those black eyes now bore into me with a fire that I thought would surely consume us all.
Nessie had finished her introduction, I realized, and I knew I had to speak. "Pleasure to meet you, sir," I murmured, fighting the urge to step back away from the window.
Edward didn't respond. His teeth were clamped together; I could see a muscle jump along the sharp edge of his jaw. After an agonizing moment, he nodded stiffly as his only response.
"Oh, Edward, you're back!" Alice's voice sang suddenly from my side.
I started; I hadn't heard her coming at all.
"Alice," he gritted out. His eyes finally shifted off of me, and I found I could breathe again.
"I was feeling so much better after my rest that I thought I'd go for a little walk, but of course I've already missed all the sun," Alice said to Nessie and me. "What rotten luck! But I'm glad I caught you, Edward." She stepped in front of me to meet her brother's eye. "Jasper called about an hour ago. He's run into some car trouble up on Whidbey Island and I think he could use a rescue. Would you mind terribly?"
Her entire body leaned toward Edward's seat in the car, staring unblinkingly at him with an intensity that belied her casual tone.
For a moment, I thought he would refuse, but then he nodded.
"Wonderful," Alice said. "He called from the service station just south of Oak Harbor—I'll call him back and tell him you'll meet him there. You'll need to hurry though, the last ferry is at eight." She was already wrapping an arm around a slightly deflated Nessie to walk her back to the house. "Now, darling, tell me everything you've been up to on this beautiful day!"
Edward was pointedly staring straight ahead, his entire body tense and stock-still. I inched hesitantly back, keeping my eyes on him as though he were a wild animal of some sort.
As soon as I was out of the way, he put the car in gear and it jumped suddenly forward, spraying clods of dirt as he sped toward the turnaround by the house.
"Bella, dear, are you coming?" Alice called back over her shoulder. I shook my head to clear it and walked briskly to catch them up.
Moments later, Edward's motorcar flew past us again, now headed back down the long drive.
Unconsciously, my eyes followed him as he drew near to see if he would look at me again, unsure if I hoped for it or feared it. But he was facing forward, a statue carved from icy marble, as he returned down the hillside.
My blood pounded in my ears as he disappeared from view.
What could have possibly caused Edward Cullen to despise me so thoroughly before I'd even spoken a word to him?
Dinner was a quiet affair, with Nessie wallowing in her disappointment that her uncle had left again so soon. Alice did her best to soothe her, but the news that Uncle Edward and Uncle Jasper might have to stay the night on Whidbey Island if they missed the last ferry rendered her gentle attempts futile, bringing Nessie to tears and effectively ending the meal. A call from Mr. Hale at five past eight confirmed Nessie's fears; it would be just us three in the house that night.
Some hours later, after Nessie had cried herself out and I was finally alone in my small bedroom in the servants' wing, I allowed my own dejection to wash over me. As I undressed, I replayed the memory of Edward Cullen's furious reaction to me in the drive.
I couldn't account for it; he'd seemed perfectly pleasant before Nessie introduced us. But when she said my name—or was it when I stepped forward? I couldn't be sure, my hair had blocked my view—his entire demeanor flipped. Was there something in my appearance that offended him so thoroughly?
I studied my clothes as I hung them up to air them out; I didn't think there was anything out of the ordinary about my outfit. Just a cardigan over a simple blouse and wool skirt. Perhaps not particularly stylish, but certainly innocuous.
I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, concentrating. He'd been smiling when he asked Nessie to introduce me, and I was almost certain his expression hadn't wavered when she spoke—up until the wind blew my hair into my face.
Could that be what angered him?
I idly fingered a lock of my dark hair, now loose around my shoulders. I kept it long, despite the near-ubiquitous fashion for bobbing these days. It was more sentimentality than a style choice; my father had made a ritual of helping me brush my hair every night as a child, and I still felt the ghost of his hands when I picked through the tangles at the end of the day.
The familiar tightening in my chest that always accompanied thoughts of my father made itself known as I sat on the bed and began unknotting my waves. Why would Edward care if I wore it long? I reasoned. My hair blowing across my face was a coincidence, not a cause—logically, his reaction probably wasn't connected to anything about my looks at all. Altogether, my appearance was entirely unremarkable.
I played the memory forward in my mind again, trying to imagine it from his angle in the car. He had been looking at me, and then down at Nessie. My vision was blocked for a moment, and then he was furious. So what had he seen in that brief moment?
Then it clicked—the bicycle. He could have glanced up the road and seen it overturned in the ditch.
Nessie had told me he'd promised to teach her. I thought of the two brand-new bicycles tucked away in the shed, one adult-sized and one for a child, and I groaned. He'd probably been waiting for just such a sunny day to take her out himself.
And I'd ruined the present, all because I'd given up keeping Nessie on task at the first sign of difficulty. No wonder he was angry with me.
Suddenly overwhelmed, I put my head in my hands, elbows digging into my thighs. Would Edward actually dismiss me over this? It seemed like an overreaction, but this was his first impression of me, and his ire had been clear. And of course, I didn't know the man.
I thought of the flash in Alice's eyes that first night in the library. Had she been picturing the sort of expression on his face I'd seen today?
I forced myself to pull out of this line of thought and sat up deliberately. Imagining would do me no good. Edward and Jasper would be back tomorrow, I told myself, and then I would know more.
I stared out the window as I resumed pulling the brush through the strands of my hair. The full moon was bright enough to glow through the thin clouds, giving an eerie pallor to the drive and trees beyond.
A sudden movement caught my eye—something streaking across the drive at the edge of the woods, the impression of creamy white and stark black shadow against the silvered gravel.
I stiffened, dropping the hairbrush with a clatter.
Whatever I'd seen, it was gone before the brush hit the floor. But my heart pounded on in my ears, muscles instinctively tense as though I were preparing to run for my life.
I half-stood and leaned closer to the glass, staring into the forest where the…thing had disappeared. I could see nothing; just the branches of trees gently waving in the dark, as though I'd imagined it.
My hands began to tremble and I stepped back from the window, suddenly aware that the light from my bedside table would make me easily visible to anyone outside.
I hurriedly clicked off the lamp and shrunk back on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest.
After a moment, I looked down at myself, huddled in a ball, and snorted out a laugh. "Like a little girl," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I forced my legs to extend and tried to relax. "You're being silly."
We were in the middle of nowhere, I told myself. There was nobody out in the woods to watch me through the window, and the movement I'd seen was obviously an animal—a coyote maybe, or at worst, a wolf, as Nessie had mentioned.
I slid under the covers, making my breaths deep and even. But as I closed my eyes, I saw the flash of white against the shadow of my lids. I pulled the blanket up to my chin protectively, unable to shake the echo of that marrow-deep terror that had filled me at the sight of the unnaturally fast movement at the edge of the forest.