Posted 2024-02-18; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

Bella dried the dish that Esme handed to her, carefully taking the casserole with both hands and setting it on the work table. While Rose and Alice could wield the heavy dishes one-handed, Bella didn't dare, even if her growing strength allowed it.

Nearly three months pregnant, her abdomen featured only the slightest of curves, but other physical changes were more noticeable. Her skin was ever so slightly tougher, and had been undamaged by the sharp knife that had slipped from her hand while paring vegetables hours earlier. She was also notably more clumsy. Whether that was normal for a human pregnancy, she wasn't sure, but it made her appreciate her growing toughness. She chuckled to herself, wondering what her father would make of that, quickly veering away from the thought.

She focused on wiping down the table, watching as Esme put away dishes with a furrowed brow. Vanko had returned from an early-morning market delivery with news of another protest, this one turned violent—a vendor's stall torn down by an angry mob. The protests were nothing new, but the violence was.

No doubt out of politeness, no one had commented on the source of the protestors' ire, but Bella knew well enough. Jasper's tight jaw and glance at her had been enough.

After Scholar Aquil, the reparations archivist, had visited a few days before, Edward had warned Bella to always wait for him and not leave the archives alone on the days she'd be working. Anything related to the committee was contentious enough, and Bella could understand why. When homes were being raided, and in the case of Pilkonis the week before, burned down with people gone missing, even mentioning the idea of reparations bred resentment. Bella was grateful that Edward was still willing to support her in her research position despite the risks.

With her towel, Bella rubbed at a spot on a dish that Esme had missed. She glanced at her mother-in-law; she was clearly preoccupied.

Edward and his brothers would patrol again tonight. Though they'd never reported encountering raiders, Bella still worried each time they left. She was sure Esme did also. The news from Pilkonis didn't help.

There was a clop of hooves. If someone was approaching from the front bricked walk, that meant a visitor.

Frowning at her wet apron and sleeves, Esme looked at Bella. "I think you're the most presentable, Bella. Would you mind receiving our guest?"

"Of course." Out of habit, Bella adjusted her choker, feeling to make sure it covered the fading scar. In the last weeks, she'd learned to read the subtle glances of the household women and how they nudged with their gazes, reminding her to keep the meaningful spot out of sight.

Thinking of this as she walked down the hall, Bella smiled. It was a bit like being in middle school again, hearing your friends' scandalized whispers that your bra was showing—or you had a hickey.

Waiting on the collonaded porch, hat in hand, was the Hatzis family's tall blond butler—household member, she corrected herself. The Hatzis might act like it was 1860, but she didn't have to, although she still addressed the man in the traditional way she had been taught.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hatzisa."

"Mrs. Cullen." He bowed formally. "Mrs. Hatzis sent me with this, rather . . . urgently, for Mrs. Esme Cullen." He held out a small cloth parcel.

That sounded ominous. She thought of the last interaction between neighbors. "Uh, she's not available at the moment, but I'll see that she receives it. Is there any other message?"

"No. I should return. Mrs. Hatzis"—he frowned—"she was most . . . unsettled." Unusually, he met Bella's gaze, worry and fear in his expression. He whispered, "I am concerned for her wellbeing."

"I see."

He eyed her hopefully. "If a visit was noted as a response to Mrs. Hatzis's message . . ."

"Of course. I'll let Mrs. Cullen know." Perhaps he was worried about getting into trouble. Why he would, well, she still had much to learn about the ins and outs of Sabellian households.

With a curt bow, the man left. Bella watched him mount the alogo and spur it quickly away.

Bella took the package to Esme, recounting what had happened. Esme frowned and unwrapped the cloth parcel, revealing a half-finished and badly stitched needlepoint of . . . a plant?

Esme stared at it.

Bella did too. A single berry framed by a five-point star, this paired with a two-tone oval leaf. It was familiar, but she couldn't identify it.

"From Mrs. Hatzis?" Esme asked.

Bella nodded.

"What utter nonsense. She's no better sense than when we were children, if she thinks this will move me on my decision." She put the scrap with a pile of rags and went back to drying dishes.

Bella wasn't so sure. "You're not going to visit?"

"If Mr. Hatzisa felt so uneasy about giving the message, it was likely because Mrs. Hatzis was trying to diminish any damage she's already caused. Poor Stolos. He was so obviously humiliated the last time he was here. I won't add to that."

Bella didn't doubt Esme's assessment, but Mr. Hatzisa had seemed perturbed. Still, Esme's history with her neighbors gave her a far better read on the context, and Bella followed her mother-in-law's lead, setting aside her concerns. Again, she mulled over Mr. Hatzisa's name. When Sabellians had kept slaves, they were named that way—a single-letter suffix to their owner's last name. Most had dropped the tradition when slavery ended, but not all. Esme had said the Hatzis's household servants had chosen to keep the tradition, but Bella wondered what kind of choice they'd really had. Still, Mr. Hatzisa's concern had seemed genuine to her.

When their cleanup was done, Bella excused herself. Her work at the archives would begin the next week, and she was behind on her preliminary historical reading. Scholar Aquil—or Carla, as she'd asked Bella to call her—had left her with a long list of texts to familiarize herself with, but the reading regularly doubled or tripled itself as Bella looked up unfamiliar events and figures in the historical compendium on her scrip. It was slow going, but she was determined to be ready—excited even. She kept busy enough with the household work and spending time with her new family, but her mind craved scholarly stimulation, and the work would bring in some income. She would finally be contributing and, hopefully, paying back some of what the Cullens had spent on her.

She thought instead of her other pregnancy-related changes. There was a decreased need for sleep. The old fishing scar on her arm had shrunk, and the marks on her neck had faded to a rosy pink, easily obscured by the cream lace of her favorite choker.

Bella chuckled to herself. While Esme was practical on many fronts, she was mildly scandalized by Bella's choice of lace—the least itchy possible and the cheapest too. Bella had assured her mother-in-law that she'd only wear it at home, opting for one of better quality when out in public, but Esme still frowned at it when she thought Bella wasn't looking. For his part, Edward had only said that Bella should do what was comfortable for her, which was just one more mark in his favor.

As if he needs any more of those, she mused. He had been so good to her even after they had returned to living in the main house, and was still as accommodating and attentive as ever.

Definitely still as attentive. She smiled to herself as she laid out her books in his room—their room now. As the only unmarried Cullen sibling, he had inhabited the bedroom furthest from the others as it had offered quiet during his late nights of studying. Now, the two of them appreciated its remoteness for other reasons.

Bella curled up on the bed with her study materials and wrapped herself in the shawl Rose had dug up from the attic. Old and a bit ratty, it was warm. While she otherwise felt well, she struggled to regulate her temperature.

She was so lost in her studies, the dinner warning bell came as a surprise. Setting aside her text on manuscript procedures, she stepped into the hall and collided with Edward, producing a cloud of dust.

Coughing and waving her hand in front of her, Bella peered through the cloud of dust at her husband. "You look like Pigpen."

"Who?"

"A cartoon character who's a walking cloud of dust."

Edward shrugged and chuckled.

"Sure, go ahead and laugh," she coughed, waving her hand in front of her. "What is that?"

"Chaff dust, which I was about to wash off."

"Which you didn't already because—never mind. How in the world did your mother let you in the house like that?"

"She didn't. I snuck in the front." He grinned, looking like the mischievous boy which, by his account, he'd once been.

"Why?"

"Because the wash basin by the kitchen door isn't private enough."

His grin faded first to a soft smile and then to something more intense as he reached for her, gently tucking back a few strands that had come loose from her chignon. Slowly, he smoothed his hand down her arm to her hip. Her shiver had nothing to do with feeling cold.

They were late for dinner—again—sitting down without apology or comment.

"You're ready to ride?" Jasper asked as Edward pushed Bella's chair in for her.

Already done. Bella did her best to suppress her blush.

"Of course," Edward answered smoothly.

Perhaps the innuendo didn't carry over. She smiled at Rose when she passed over the spanaki, making the mistake of glancing at Emmett, catching his sly grin.

Or maybe it does.

Jasper and Edward were discussing whether or not their newest dragon was sufficiently trained to take with them that night when the quick clatter of hooves made everyone pause.

"Again?" Esme muttered.

"I'll get it," Tabitha said.

"She's been fine on the short runs." Jasper continued the conversation, tilting his head towards the barn. "So long as you stay clear of any Glyko."

Edward shook his head. "I'd prefer to come home without any broken bones, but if you think she's ready—"

Everyone stopped talking when Stolos appeared at the doorway, a prominent white cravat standing out against his dark coat.

"Stolos." Esme stood abruptly. "Who?"

"My mother, Matriarch."

Everyone at the table got up, Bella scraping her chair back last as Edward gripped her elbow to steady her. She followed suit when the rest of the occupants put their hands to their hearts.

"Our condolences." Esme spoke formally, her calm voice at odds with her distressed expression.

Mrs. Hatzis is dead?

"Let's go to the parlor." Still looking very worried, Esme embraced Stolos quickly before leading the way.

Thinking she'd be better help cleaning up, Bella began to pick up the dishes.

"No. That can wait." Rose told her. "It's more important we see to Stolos now."

Coming to sit beside Edward, Bella caught the tail end of Stolos's explanation. He had the look of someone who'd suffered a shock.

" . . . had the sherooz see her. She kept saying we'd sold ourselves to the North—and other such ridiculous things. She refused to eat any food she didn't prepare herself. She wouldn't even take the sherooz's tea, saying it might be poisoned."

"Her message," Esme mumbled.

"What message?" Stolos asked, frowning.

"Bella? Will you get the cloth she sent me?"

Bella retrieved the cloth from the kitchen, giving it to Esme who laid it out on the table.

Everyone looked at the rudimentary stitching and the plant pictured—one Bella now recognized as Solana.

Nightshade.

"Mr. Hatzisa brought this over this morning, saying she'd insisted I receive it. It sounded like she wanted to see me. I'm so sorry, Stolos. I thought—forgive me—I thought it was a ploy. She could be . . . childish, at times."

"That she could." Stolos sighed.

"She was so angry the last time we spoke, I didn't—"

"It's alright. She"—he shook his head—"we found her in the conservatory. It appears she . . . ingested this."

Suicide? "Why?" Bella asked, unable to keep quiet. "Does anyone know?"

Another headshake. "We haven't found anything to indicate what she was thinking."

Esme appeared unnaturally still. "Are you here—have you come to notify me, Stolos? Formally?"

"Yes and no. You are the closest, but . . ."

"I'll need to recuse myself," Esme said. "Even so, we will of course be of service to you. Rose and Alice—and Bella, you should come with me tonight." She listed off supplies that should be packed.

"What's going on?" Bella whispered to Edward.

He leaned in, keeping his voice low. "For any death not stemming from natural causes, there will be a Matriarch's inquest. My mother has overseen one before, but she and Mrs. Hatzis were friends and neighbors, and given the salvage claim . . ." He gave a quiet shake of his head. "She's too involved."

A conflict of interest. "Of course."

"How is your father?" Esme asked Stolos.

"As one would expect. Shocked. My mother has been . . . was clearly troubled the last few days, but we thought it was another of her moods and that it would pass." Another tight swallow.

"The shock will be the same for you," Esme said gently. "We'll need riders to the town to gather at least one Matriarch to witness." She looked at Edward, Jasper, and Emmett, already committed for the evening. "Vanko? Sotiris?"

"We'll go," Sotiris said.

"You should stay here, Stolos, until a Matriarch can verify what you've told us. We'll attend to your mother then."

As plans were set afoot, Edward took Bella aside. "You should sleep while you can. There'll be work to do." Edward squeezed her hands. "It's important that you not say anything to anyone who asks. And people will, despite the inquest. Tell no one what you see there unless the matriarch asks. Not even me."

Bella nodded, grasping the gravity of the situation. Unnatural deaths were rare, and if the Cullens were implicated . . .

"I understand."

Edward and his brothers left for their patrol. Bella watched them leave, the three dragons slithering into the darkness, their riders forming dark shapes on even darker forms.

Bella felt like she'd only just fallen asleep when Rose woke her to depart for the Hatzis estate. As before, the large home was brightly lit, the Matriarch's cart already in front of the house. The butler's greeting was polite but weary.

"Mr. Hatzisa, I'm so sorry for not coming earlier," Esme said.

He shook his head. "I knew it was unlikely, and not for any fault of your own."

Esme nodded, turning to see the familiar figure of Matriarch Leopolous striding towards them, reaching her arms out for Esme.

"Matriarch Cullen. I'm sorry to be reacquainted so."

"As am I."

They embraced before the taller of the two women was reintroduced to the other members of the Cullen household.

As they moved towards the conservatory, the elder women murmured to each other. "Suicide. But as to why, we'll see. I've taken what notes I need. You're free to begin laying out. If we can send some of the household to bed, that would be for the best. They will be exhausted enough already. This won't help."

"No." Esme sighed.

Matriarch Leopolous, her duties discharged, excused herself, heading back to Presga and her tributes, leaving Esme, Rose, Alice, Bella and the chief female steward to tend to Mrs. Hatzis.

Her body lay on the conservatory floor, her lips a dark purple. There were berries in a bowl on a small table, a few by her hand, and more crushed into a cup of tea spilled out on the floor. The room smelled strongly of cloves.

Bella had never seen a dead body before, though she'd been no stranger to death, and it was with a detached curiosity that she'd approached the house and the task of preparing the woman's body. It helped that she hadn't liked the woman. What she wasn't prepared for was the swell of emotions that came with seeing a body so recently parted from its animating presence.

They began by stripping the soiled clothes.

"Bella, can you begin washing her?" Esme passed over a bowl and sponge.

"Sure." Bella stared at the body. "Um, is there . . . a correct order?"

"You've . . . you've not laid out before?"

With some embarrassment, she shook her head.

"Move from cleanest to dirtiest. Extremities inwards."

Bella cleared her throat, nodding. The others, busy with gathering materials and clearing up the rest of the space, didn't notice her staring. Mrs. Hatzis stared back, eyes open. No one had closed them, and Bella didn't dare to, partly out of fear of committing an offense, but mostly because it wasn't Mrs. Hatzis she was seeing in front of her, but the imagined body of her long-dead mother. Emotions and memories she hadn't recalled for years bubbled to the surface.

Startled by the sound of the door closing, Bella shook off her reverie and grasped Mrs. Hatzis's right hand, unnerved by its weight and chill. She began washing the fingers, wondering if someone had done this for her mother. When tears began dripping onto the back of her hand, she wiped them on her shoulder.

She jumped a little when Alice touched her arm. "Who did you lose?"

"My mother." It was barely a whisper.

"Recently?"

A shake of the head. "No. A long time ago. I . . . never saw her."

Alice's smooth forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Were you away? Unable to assist?"

In stilted sentences, Bella quietly explained the aseptic manner with which her mother's death had been handled.

Alice listened quietly, punctuating their interaction with a curt nod. "It's different when it's your own kin. Mrs. Hatzis's women will come to bless her, but it can hardly hurt to have it done twice."

Alice looked to Esme and Rose, whose proximity ensured they would have overheard their exchange.

"No, it won't," Esme said.

"Will you give the blessing, Esme?" Alice asked.

Watching her mother-in-law, Bella saw this asked more of Esme than she might otherwise have offered. "Yes." She cleared her throat, giving each of the women a piece of soapy sponge. Silently, she directed each to a hand or foot. "Hear us, Athena, you who observe all our ways, who know every detail of our lives. We commend to you and your weavers the lines of this life departed and all those threads too soon cut."

Slowly, they washed from the outside in, so that the thin shroud dampened and bunched to the center.

"What you have made fecund will now be returned to you to make fruitful the ground, and with it the plants to nourish those that still walk, strengthening them to carry in their hearts the memories of those they have buried."

As one, they washed inwards, wetting their sponges, working to turn Mrs. Hatzis's body to its side, finishing their washing.

The washing was practical and symbolic, Bella's tears continuing silently as she imagined it was her mother's body she performed the service for. Her father had explained in the most general terms what would happen after her mother's death, and even that had been difficult enough for him, so she hadn't pressed for details. Were bodies even washed before cremation?

The work was exhausting, and by the time they'd washed and dried the corpse, it was well past midnight.

They brushed and rebraided Mrs. Hatzis's hair, wiping her body down with a spicy-smelling oil.

Finally, they dressed her, the most laborious part of the process, leaving all of them sweating. The conservatory's lampa lights were dim, so that when distant lights flickered in the distance beyond the glass walls, Bella wondered if she was hallucinating.

"Are they back already?" Rose muttered.

"Must be," Esme said, wiping at her forehead.

As they waited, the four of them sat together on the same bench Edward and Bella had rested on not so long ago. Exhausted, Bella felt like they kept vigil more from weariness than dignity, so that when the men trailed in, hands pressed respectfully to their chests, Bella wondered if they could easily distinguish between the dead and the living.

Bella barely noticed the large bruise on Jasper's face, though Alice was quick to put her hand to it. "Raiders?"

He shook his head, mumbling something about untrained dragons.

Edward helped Bella stand, his curious gaze on her tear-stained face.

"We'll return tomorrow to help with the rest." Esme nodded to the housekeeper as they took their leave.

They rode silently home in the cart, the men accompanying them on the slow-walking dragons. By the time Bella and Edward crawled into bed, she was barely able to keep her eyes open, grateful to accept the comforting embrace of the man who'd kept her alive in more ways than one.