Author's Note: Happy Halloween! I sped up my posting schedule a bit to give you a little spooky treat. Hope everyone enjoys the festivities. :)
- Chapter 3: A Thousand Misgivings -
I found little rest that night, tormented by dreams that wrenched me to wakefulness over and over, gasping and damp with sweat. But each time, I couldn't remember any details of what had terrified me so.
When I finally gave up on sleep and made my way to the kitchen, I found Alice had left a note for me on the table.
Bella,
So sorry to dash without warning, but I have some things to take care of. Tell Nessie not to worry, I'll be back to say goodbye before I head home.
-A
But Alice hadn't returned by dinner or the next day, nor was there any word from Jasper and Edward.
Angela and Ben were unconcerned; they assured me the family often took off without much notice to handle business and charitable concerns. Nessie, however, seemed down.
I distracted her as best I could, but I, too, was somewhat troubled; I had a sinking feeling that this last-minute errand of Alice's was related to the encounter with Edward. I suspected that she was off looking for my replacement and that Edward was avoiding the house until I was gone.
So Nessie and I muddled along together, starting on some basic biology using the abundant plant life for hands-on learning, which seemed to brighten her spirits a bit. But it still didn't come close to the excitement and optimism of the first week. I hoped we could recapture it in time—if I wasn't sent packing, that is.
It was three days of torture before I finally found respite.
Nessie and I were in the drawing room for our morning lessons, she working through a rather difficult list of new vocabulary encountered in the book I'd assigned and I correcting her previous day's composition.
But when we heard the tell-tale sound of gravel crunching under tires, both of our fragile focuses shattered in an instant.
Nessie let out a delighted cry and ran to the door, sending the dictionary flying from her lap in her haste.
Far less enthused, I peeked out the front bay window at the two motorcars rolling to a stop in front of the house. I could see Alice and a man with wavy blond hair who I took to be her husband in the front automobile. I couldn't make myself look in the window of the second, where I was sure I would see my replacement in the passenger seat.
Resigned, I followed my charge to the entry, throat tight and heart thumping painfully in my chest.
Nessie was already bounding over to Edward as he stepped out of the motorcar. The affectionate smile he gave her was the antithesis of the glower I'd last seen on his perfectly carved features. His niece flung herself to his side with abandon, wrapping her arms possessively around his waist.
Surprise arrested his features for a moment, then his expression turned tender. He looked down at her and tentatively returned her embrace.
Something about the soft wonder on his face seemed too private for me to witness, and I quickly looked away, eyes darting around the drive. There were no others, I realized; they hadn't brought a new governess after all.
I exhaled in relief, the tight muscles of my shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. Maybe Alice had convinced Edward to give me another chance.
"Hello, Bella!" Alice called as she approached me at the door, arm-in-arm with the blond man. "Sorry we didn't telephone!"
I smiled and waved off Alice's apology. "Glad to have you back," I said.
"My husband, Jasper," she added casually as they passed without pause.
I was surprised to see Jasper Hale's eyes matched his wife's—that unusual shade of rich honey. He had a similar surreal beauty to Alice and Edward, too, though the individual features were nothing alike. His face had a somewhat wild quality compared to their more refined bone structure. There was a line of strain in his shoulders, his eyebrows knit together as though he were thinking hard about something.
He gave me a brief nod which I returned more deeply, but they were inside before I could murmur a greeting.
Some ways behind the couple, Nessie was dragging Edward by the hand to the house, chattering away about all the things we'd done in the days since she saw him last. I was pleased to hear her recounting all our lessons with more enthusiasm than she'd shown in real life—perhaps that would ease any doubts about my fitness for the job.
"—and we picked different plants to press in books and when they're dry, we'll put them in an album and I'll make obversations—"
"Observations," I corrected her with some amusement. I could feel Edward's gaze on me and I made a conscious effort to stand straight. When I could put it off no longer, I lifted my chin to meet his eye…
…and I froze.
The eyes that I was absolutely certain had been shadow-black when I saw him last were now the ripened gold of late-autumn wheat. Just like Alice and Jasper's.
The electric current that struck me at that moment could not solely be explained by my shock at the change. I was rooted to the ground, goosebumps rippling over my arms even as a strange warmth bloomed under my ribs.
Edward's expression was impassive, though his sculpted lips were still curved up at whatever Nessie was saying. He acknowledged me with a dip of his chin, but passed by without a word, allowing himself to be led to our makeshift classroom.
Though I'd thought myself completely immobile, I felt a tug from the center of my chest that I had no choice but to follow, like a thread tied to my sternum pulling me after them.
Just inside the doorway to the drawing room, I hesitated, nerves making me unsure.
Nessie was showing her uncle our pressed plants, stacked in books on an occasional table. She rattled off the facts she could remember as she flipped through the pages to reveal them. I watched Edward, trying to get the measure of him as he listened intently.
He looked younger and healthier than our last meeting—25 at most, I thought. The shadows in the hollows of his eyes had retreated, and his pale face was more porcelain than pallid, as though he'd spent the past days catching up on much-needed sleep.
More subtly, the minute muscles between his straight, dark brows and at the edge of his sharp jaw were more relaxed, and he moved with an easy grace as he carefully examined Nessie's work.
But there was tension still at the corners of his mouth, I thought, where his gentle smile seemed to cover some latent anxiety, a kind of heaviness in his expression only noticeable under close inspection.
Suddenly he looked up from the specimen he'd been tapping with a long, elegant finger and I was caught staring again. Just as before, I could no more have turned away from him than I could stop my blood from flowing through my veins.
He regarded me steadily.
"I see you've been very busy," he said quietly. He spoke to Nessie, but still held my gaze steadily, as though he were addressing me, too. Was he pleased? I wondered.
Alice and Jasper appeared through the entrance at the other end of the long room, coming to greet Nessie properly now that her frenzied glee over Edward's appearance had mellowed.
I decided to use the distraction to sneak away to help Angela with lunch. But long after I was out of view, I imagined I could feel the weight of eyes on my back.
- o - o - o -
"Auntie Alice, do you really have to go?"
Nessie was making a valiant effort not to break down, but the tears in her green eyes were dangerously close to spilling over her long lashes. I felt a great wave of empathy for her; I, too, was dreading Alice's departure, though not only because I enjoyed her company of its own merits.
It had been two days since Alice, Jasper, and Edward had arrived from…wherever they'd been, and though there had been no signs of the fury my employer had displayed on our first encounter, he still had not said more than a few words to me.
I felt as though Alice had been my only buffer from whatever lurked in Edward's mind. And now she and Jasper were heading off to their home in British Columbia, where the rest of the Cullen clan also lived.
"Darling," Alice soothed, taking Nessie's hands in her gloved fingers. "You know I do. But we'll visit again soon, and the rest of the family can come along too, like we talked about. You'll love Uncle Carlisle and Aunt Esme, and Rose and Emmett!"
The droplet quivering on Nessie's lower lid slipped over the edge, leaving a shimmering trail down her cheek. Alice wiped at it gently with her glove.
"We'd best get on the road," Jasper said from the front door, his gentle drawl stretching the words like taffy.
Nessie jumped at her aunt, hugging her fiercely. Alice gave me a rueful look as she patted the girl's back.
"Nessie," I said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's time to let Aunt Alice go now."
She sniffed heavily, but obeyed, turning to me for comfort instead. She pressed her face into my skirt to hide her tears, and I stroked her fine hair.
Edward, who had been helping Ben with the baggage, appeared through the front door. "Jasper," he said, gripping his brother-in-law's hand in a firm farewell. Jasper returned the handshake briefly, and Edward turned to his sister.
"Be good," Alice said lightly as she reached to embrace him.
A shadow passed over his face for a moment, but a smile quickly chased it away.
"Whatever you say," he replied with a hint of irony.
And then the Hales were gone, and the hall was silent save for Nessie's sniffles.
Edward stared at the closed door, unseeing. After a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut, as though banishing a train of thought, and turned away from the door.
I leaned forward unconsciously. Would he finally speak to me?
"Nessie," he said.
My anticipation deflated—no, apparently not.
Nessie peeled away from my skirt and lifted her tear-stained face to meet her uncle's gaze.
"From now on, I'd like you to visit my study after dinner, so we may discuss what you've learned each day," Edward told her. He managed to make the instruction sound more like a request than an order, but I knew better. "And you're to bring some of your work as well."
Edward's eyes flickered to me briefly, checking that I understood. I nodded briefly, pushing down my irritation that he hadn't addressed me directly. I caught the inside of my lip between my teeth, distracting myself to keep the sour look from my face.
"Yes, Uncle Edward," Nessie replied, voice slightly thick.
"Good," he said, not quite smiling. "Now, I believe it's time for your afternoon lesson, isn't it?"
She dashed a hand across her cheeks as she nodded vigorously, swiping away the evidence of her tears.
"Go get your book and come meet me in the drawing room," I told her, and she scampered up the stairs to retrieve the novel she had chosen for her book report, leaving Edward and me alone in the great hall.
Though I tried to fight it, my eyes were drawn to him like a magnet, searching for some reassurance. But I found none—his expression was unreadable.
We regarded one another for a second that felt like hours, the inexplicable tension stilling every muscle in my body except my traitorous, hammering heart.
"Miss Swan," he finally murmured, nodding in an unmistakable dismissal.
I forced myself to return the gesture, and then he was gone, disappearing up the stairs.
A tremor passed through me that I told myself was trepidation.
This, I realized with no small sense of disquiet, was likely to be my new reality without Alice to cushion our interactions.
I turned on my heel and fled to the drawing room, desperately seeking some respite from the unsettling, perplexing, maddeningly captivating presence of Edward Cullen.
- o - o - o -
My employer must have felt similarly discomfited at being alone with me, because I barely saw him at all over the next few days. Like Alice, he took his meals alone, though he preferred them delivered to his study rather than his room. Unlike Alice, he did not come to sit with Nessie and me when we ate dinner in the servants' hall off the kitchen.
Despite the multitude of rooms in Culwoode's sprawling interior, Edward couldn't avoid me entirely; we had to pass one another now and again. My heart caught in my throat whenever we approached one another, waiting to see if this would be the encounter where he would say more than the sparest of greetings. But inevitably, all I would get was an absentminded "Miss Swan," or worse, just that infuriating little inclination of his head as he avoided my eye and gave me as wide a berth as possible.
Beginning the night after Alice and Jasper left, I delivered Nessie to the door of Edward's third-floor study each evening after dinner. She grasped whatever piece of work she'd brought to show off to her uncle in her hot little hand as we climbed the stairs, practically trembling with excitement. For her, it was the most exciting time of day.
For me…well.
I was beginning to wonder if Edward's only redeeming quality was the admiration my charge had for him and his clear affection for her—otherworldly beauty excepted.
The door opened before I could rap my knuckles against the wood, revealing the man himself—a sight that, despite my growing irritation, never failed to make my breath catch in my throat.
"Good evening, Miss Swan," he murmured each time—the most words he ever said to me at once. And then his attention was on Nessie, who was beaming up at him.
"Come in," he said to her, voice warm and welcoming. To me, he—shockingly, I thought with grim humor—gave a brief nod. "An hour," he added to me as Nessie scampered over to the fire, and then the door was shut in my face.
My mouth twisted in an expression of distaste that I would have never let slip in Edward's presence. If I were being rational, I might look at this little ritual as Edward seeking an opportunity to connect with his still-new ward. But I couldn't help but feel the burn of offense, as though he were monitoring and judging my capacities without giving me the chance to speak for myself.
My annoyance was not soothed when I returned to escort Nessie to bed; Edward's only words to me were "Good night, Miss Swan," an insultingly slight variation on his greeting.
Perhaps, if I was being honest with myself, I was letting our first encounter color my interpretation of his intentions just a little too much. But the sense of affront grew more persistent the longer he went without stringing more than four words together in my direction.
"Well, Nessie seems thrilled with you," Angela said one afternoon as I helped her peel potatoes for dinner.
I did my best to smile. "She's a delight."
I felt rather than saw Angela's keen look, and I bent my head over my work with renewed concentration.
"But?" she prompted after a moment's silence.
I stifled a sigh. It seemed this conversation was inevitable.
"I'm afraid Mr. Cullen doesn't like me much," I admitted, digging an eye out of the spud in my hands with slightly too much vigor.
To my surprise, Angela laughed, making me look up. "Mr. Cullen doesn't like anybody," she said with a grin. "Well, except Nessie and Alice, of course."
I raised my brows, silently encouraging her to continue.
"Really, have you ever seen him say a word to me or Ben?"
"Well…no," I admitted.
"And you even get a nice 'Miss Swan' in the halls," Angela pointed out. "I'm not entirely convinced he's ever said my name."
"So what, he's just generally stuck up?"
"Maybe," she conceded, smiling. "But I think he's just painfully reserved. I didn't hear him crack a joke with Nessie for the better part of my first two weeks here, and he'd known her a month and a half at that point."
Angela stood up to carry the pile of peels to the bin, leaving me to mull over this hypothesis. I had a hard time imagining that anyone as handsome, wealthy, and powerful as Edward Cullen could be shy. But I supposed he was ultimately as human as anyone else, regardless of his fortune.
"Anyway," Angela continued, settling down to her cutting board to begin quartering the peeled potatoes, "I'll gladly put up with the silence for the pay—and the view."
She let out a low whistle, sending me a suggestive look. I burned crimson, which made her giggle.
"Oh, come on!" she goaded. "You can't deny he's handsome."
I made a face. "No, I suppose I can't," I said grudgingly.
"And so very intense." Angela gave an exaggerated shiver. "The way he stares at you sometimes, I wonder…"
The flames in my cheeks ratched up another degree or twenty. "Don't be ridiculous!" I sputtered.
Angela laughed, waving the hand not holding the large chef's knife. "Oh, I'm just teasing you," she said. "I can barely stand to look at him long enough to figure out what he's staring at, anyway. Shy or not, he's still the most intimidating man I've ever met."
I rather thought Angela's theory was more of a reflection of her good nature than any real evidence from Edward's part, but Nessie came bounding in from the kitchen garden before I could respond, arms full of leeks and streaked nose-to-toes with mud.
The revolutionary idea that my employer might not be some supernaturally perfect being, but rather an ordinary man subject to all the foibles and self-consciousness that entailed, would have to wait until I'd cleaned up his very human, very dirty niece.
- o - o - o -
When I came down for breakfast the next morning, I was surprised to see Angela already there, pouring a bit of cream over a bowl of porridge for Nessie.
"Oh!" she cried when she saw me, smacking her forehead with her free hand. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you!"
"What?" I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee from the pot.
"I was supposed to let you know you could take today off," Angela said apologetically. "Mr. Cullen said he'd take Nessie if I came early to help with breakfast."
I raised my eyebrows. Well, then.
"I'm sorry, I meant to tell you yesterday so you could sleep in if you wanted."
I shrugged. "No matter," I said. "I'm an early riser anyway."
"Can I get you some porridge?" Angela asked as though trying to make amends.
I smiled at her. "That's all right, I'll just have some toast."
I grabbed a slice from the toast rack in the middle of the kitchen table and spooned a bit of raspberry jam over it.
"So Nessie," I said as I spread the preserves, "do you know what your uncle has planned for you today?"
The girl beamed. "He said we could go to the pictures in Port Angeles!"
"Are you going to see that new Dracula film?" Ben, who'd just come in from the kitchen yard, piped up.
Nessie laughed. "No way!"
"Vy ever not?" he asked in an exaggeratedly spooky voice, imitating Bela Lugosi's accent as he held his arms out menacingly as though he were holding out a cape. "Are you…frightened?"
Suddenly, Ben swooped at her, hissing and reaching for her with clawed hands.
Nessie shrieked in faux terror, jumping off her chair to run away from him. "Don't!" she squealed, but she was giggling as he chased her around the table.
"I vant to suck your bloooood!"
"You know, I think we might just stick with the new Charlie Chaplin," said a dry voice from behind me.
Ben skidded to a stop, and all of us turned to see Edward leaning against the doorway to the butler's pantry, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Nessie, when you're done with your breakfast, will you come to the drawing room?" he continued. "I'd like to read the story you mentioned last night."
Nessie, still panting a little, nodded enthusiastically.
"Don't dawdle, now," Edward said. "There are a few things in Port Angeles I'd like to show you before the matinee."
He seemed about to turn around, but his eye caught on Angela and me, and he paused, looking thoughtful.
"Miss Weber, Miss Swan," he murmured in farewell, nodding to each of us and again to Ben before he took his leave.
As Nessie clambored back onto her chair to begin shoveling down her breakfast, Angela caught my eye. She mouthed an extended "wow" at me, raising her eyebrows in significance.
I had to bite back a laugh, thinking of our conversation the day before.
"What are you two grinning at each other about?" Ben asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Nothing," Angela said breezily. "Would you like some coffee?"
- o - o - o -
Without my regular duties, I wasn't sure how to fill my time. Ben offered to let me take his Model T into town while he worked, but there wasn't much to entertain in Forks, and I felt odd following Edward and Nessie into Port Angeles. So instead, I stayed home.
I was in desperate need of some new reading material; my battered copies of Wuthering Heights and The Complete Works of William Shakespeare could only withstand so many repeated page turnings, and the who-dun-it paperback my former roommate at the teaching college had given me was far less fun when you knew how it ended. So I combed through the library for a while, looking for something to pass the time.
There were no novels on the shelves, just the widest variety of non-fiction and reference texts I'd ever seen, running the gamut of topics and eras. I was intrigued by some of the philosophical and religious texts; there was a beautiful leatherbound copy of Teresa of Ávila's The Interior Castle with both the original Spanish and the English translation included, as well as what I was fairly sure was a first edition of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. I took the former, but left the latter, too afraid to touch it after I saw the 1792 print date. I wondered if Edward had read either of them, or if they'd been inherited.
Sooner or later, I would need something more escapist. I wondered if I might find some fiction in Edward's study, but I was too nervous to go inside, even with him gone. For now, this would have to do.
I settled down in one of the library's cozy chairs with St. Teresa's treatise on the Seven Mansions of the spiritual self. I had never been the religious sort, but I found mystics of all stripes rather fascinating—and I supposed that now I lived in a real manor house, the Carmelite nun's exploration of the soul as rooms in a castle was rather apropos.
"If death should take you now, you would never again enjoy the light of this Sun. O Jesus! how sad a sight must be a soul deprived of light! What a terrible state the chambers of this castle are in! How disorderly must be the senses—the inhabitants of the castle—the powers of the soul, its magistrates, governors, and stewards—blind and uncontrolled as they are! In short, as the soil in which the tree is now planted is in the devil's domain, how can its fruit be anything but evil?"
I was somewhere in the Third Mansion when I started feeling a little too restless to remain so deep in the castle—figuratively or literally.
I glanced out the window; it was as gray and cloudy as ever, but it wasn't raining. Perhaps I would go for a walk.
I opted to take Teresa with me; it seemed she could use a bit of fresh air to soothe the fervent fires of religious ecstasy.
I returned to my room to change into my lone pair of pants, a thick sweater, and my wool coat, then descended the back stairs to find a spot of lunch to bring with me. Angela had left a sandwich wrapped in wax paper for me in the icebox, since Edward and Nessie wouldn't be eating at home, so I thrust that into my coat pocket and set out through the back door.
The grass of the back lawn was soaking wet, darkening the leather of my worn boots, but my feet stayed dry. I thought maybe I would go down the path Nessie had shown me last week to see the tennis courts; it was plenty light out, and Ben had recently confided he'd given Nessie the line about predators to keep her in sight of the house.
"Not that there aren't some bears in the mountains," he'd added. "But they're hibernating now."
"What about the wolves?" I'd asked.
"None left," he said. "They've all been hunted out on the Peninsula. Don't think anyone's seen one since my granddad's time."
Still, I grabbed the first good-sized branch I saw once I crossed the stone bridge; couldn't hurt to have something to hand, and it made a good walking stick.
The walk to the tennis courts was fairly short, passing through a small copse of evergreens and then emerging in a small clearing with two red clay courts sunken a few feet into the ground. There were no fences surrounding them, just a raised platform on one side with seating for spectators. It seemed a little short-sighted to me—anyone who played here must spent a lot of time chasing balls into the woods.
I climbed up onto the deck to see the view; it would probably be a nice place to relax in the summer, but it looked a bit morose now. The wrought iron garden benches and bistro sets were wet from last night's rain. Not an ideal setting for a lone picnic, I decided, so I continued on, climbing down the stairs on the far side of the deck to continue on the path.
It was well-maintained, winding its way gently down the ridgeline toward the river I'd seen that first day from the drive. The creek that ran along the edge of the lawn burbled alongside the path, tumbling over smooth rocks pleasantly.
The path made a few switchbacks, and I thought ahead to the climb I'd have to make on the way back to the house. Luckily, it didn't seem as steep as the driveway.
When I reached the valley floor, the soft bubbling of the creek was covered up by the louder roar of the river. Birds chattered to each other, their clear voices just audible above the rush. The dirt path became a wood walkway that gave firmer purchase than the springy detritus along the river bank, leading up to a sturdy dock that jutted out into a little protected pool where the current wasn't so strong.
I carefully made my way onto the dock, nervous about tripping into the undoubtedly icy cold water.
The river was high and fast, swollen with winter rain, but the dock was in good repair. It looked like the sort of spot my father would have loved—I could imagine the fishing would be excellent when the salmon were running in a month or two.
The hills on every side seemed to protect the river from the chilly wind that made my coat necessary up by the house, and I found it was warm enough to sit in just my sweater. I pulled out my book and sandwich, then folded up the wool strategically to make a pillow to lay back on.
More or less comfortable, I unwrapped my lunch and settled back into Teresa's exploration of the supernatural.
"Until the soul has gained much experience it doubts what really happened to it. 'Was it nothing but fancy, or was it a sleep? Did it come from God or from the devil, disguised as an angel of light?' The mind feels a thousand misgivings, and well for it that it should, because, at I said, nature may sometimes deceive us in this case."
I was nearing the end of the Sixth Mansion when the drizzle started. Not wanting the beautiful little book to be ruined by the rain, I quickly tucked it back into my coat pocket. Anyway, the path back to the house would probably get slippery once it got wet; better to head home now.
As I was about to step down off the dock, something prickled at the edge of my consciousness. I paused, glancing around for what had caught my attention.
It took me a moment, but then it came to me—the birds were silent.
I had spent enough time in the woods with my father to know what that could mean: a predator, and nearby.
Very carefully, I inched backward, eyes scanning the woods. The staff I'd picked up at the beginning of my walk was behind me, and I wanted its sturdy weight in my hand. My heel touched it, and for a second I thought it would roll off the side of the dock, but it merely rocked.
Slowly, slowly, I bent down, reaching blindly—and then I had it.
I straightened into an instinctive half-crouch, grasping the thick wood in both fists. I could see no movement, but I thought I could feel eyes on me. Every hair on my neck was standing straight up in alarm.
"Miss Swan," a familiar voice called, and Edward Cullen appeared from behind the brush that blocked my view of the path.
I nearly fainted in relief. "Mr. Cullen," I exhaled, letting go of my makeshift weapon to clutch at my racing heart. "You scared me half to death!"
He showed no sign of amusement. "What are you doing down here?" he asked, voice stern.
I balked at his tone—what did he care what I did with my day off? "I went for a walk and thought this would be a nice spot to read for a while," I replied coolly.
He was before me now, our eyes still not quite level even with the extra six inches of height the dock gave me. "It's very dangerous to go off in the woods alone here."
"It's still hours til dark," I said, trying not to sound defensive. "I thought it would be all right if I stayed on the path. The bears are hibernating now anyway, aren't they?"
Edward's amber eyes flashed. "Bears aren't the only dangerous things in these woods," he said cryptically.
"I thought Ben said wolves were extinct here."
His jaw tensed, and I could see his hand clench—a faint echo of the anger I'd seen that first day in the drive.
"Just…trust me, Miss Swan," he said finally. "I'd rather not give Nessie the idea she can come down here by herself."
Abashed, I looked down at my feet. I ought to have thought of that. "Of course," I murmured. "I apologize."
He inhaled slowly, and then his face was back to smooth glass. "I'll walk you back," he said, motioning toward the path.
We were silent the whole climb up to the house, my humiliation deepening as the sound of my heavy breathing filled the air. Edward, of course, seemed utterly unaffected by the steep incline.
It was hours later when the obvious question finally occurred to me—just what was Edward Cullen doing down by the dock?
- o - o - o -
Author's Note: Lissen, I'm not religious, but Teresa of Ávila wrote some certified BANGERS. Also, I had no clue until I was writing the kitchen scene that Dracula was actually released in Feb. 1931. So obviously I had to include it.
Next chapter...Edward and Bella come to a truce of sorts.