Morning, Lovelies!
Okay, we are now at a point where posting more frequently will be a benefit, so there will be a new chapter coming in three times a week; Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Thank you to Mel and Pamela!
Chapter 16
When I wake the next morning, and Edward is not beside me, I cannot help the cold sweep of panic that washes over me.
"Edward?" I throw off the blankets, tumbling from our bed, my heart hammering in my chest as I recall the last time I spent the night in the duke's home, only to wake up alone. "Edward!" I barely remember to don my robe and slippers before I race out of the sleeping chambers.
I stop short when I find Edward in the drawing room with a man I do not know. Edward stands, his tall body coming to attention when he sees the panic on my face. "Bella, what is wrong?" he asks, striding to my side swiftly. I burst into tears the moment his arms fold around me, and I feel him gently tugging me back through the door into the sleeping chamber.
"I-I th-thought…" I cannot get the words out, I am crying so hard.
"You thought I left," Edward says, realizing dawning. "Oh, my Love, I am so sorry." He presses a kiss to my hair as he carries me back to our bed. "I did not think you would worry so," he says, shaking his head as he sets me down. "I did not think at all."
My body is shaking from the spike of fear and the sudden free fall of relief meeting in my blood. Edward bends to his knees before me, his hands taking mine as he gently kisses my fingers.
"Please forgive me," he whispers softly.
I nod, though I cannot yet speak through my still rapidly falling tears. I can see the anguish on his face, and he lets out a long breath, pressing his face briefly to my knees before he looks back up at me.
"I swear on all that I am," he says softly. "If I am sent away from your side once again, this time, I will tell you. Even if I must defy a direct order from the king himself, you will be my first priority."
It is a reckless, foolish thing to promise, something I know reasonably that Edward might not be able to ensure, but his words bring me comfort, and I drag in a deep breath, giving him a small, shaky nod.
His hands come up to gently cup my face. "Are you well enough to entertain a visitor?"
I frown, sniffing the last of my tears away. "Whom?"
A smile pulls at my husband's face, and I watch as he transforms, boyish joy alighting in his eyes. "My brother Michael has come," he says softly. "I would love for you to meet him."
My mouth falls open, but then I recall that Edward spoke of his brother being in the duke's employment. I reach up to wipe the tear tracks from my cheeks.
"Let me dress," I say quickly, my voice still quivering lightly.
Edward nods, kissing my fingers again before standing. "I'll send a maid to help you," he offers.
It is difficult for me to let him go, to trust that despite his promises, he will be there waiting for me once I am dressed. In my heart, I know that Edward has never once lied to me, but there are so many things out of our control.
Eventually, I do let him go, and he does as he promises and sends a maid to help me bathe and dress. When I am finally properly ready, I return to the parlor where Edward immediately stands upon seeing me. I let out a tight breath when my eyes land on him, and now that I am reassured of his presence, I turn to the second man in the room.
He looks somewhat like Edward, though he has the blond hair of his father and the smaller, slighter stature of his mother.
Seeing them side by side, I can see the family resemblance, but had I met Michael away from my husband, I cannot be sure I would have guessed at the family resemblance.
"Michael, this is my wife, Bella," Edward says, gently taking my hand in his. "Bella, my brother, Michael."
Michael offers me a bow that shows off his courtly training. "My Lady," he says, his eyes downcast.
By the standards of the duke's court, Michael's greeting is executed perfectly based on our respective statuses. By the standards of his own family, I find he is oddly lacking.
I decide to offer him the benefit of the doubt. "It is so lovely to meet you, Michael. Edward speaks so highly of your childhood together." I speak nothing but the absolute truth, and beside me, Edward chuckles.
Michael, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable. "Surely a man of my brother's standing has better to do with his time than reminisce," Michael says, shaking his head.
Edward seems to miss how odd his brother's behavior is. Whether he is blinded by his joy of being reunited, or else Michael has always been thus and it is I who is out of the loop, I cannot say.
Edward ushers us both to sit for tea, and I cannot help but note how uncomfortable Michael seems to be. It is as if he does not like me, though he does not yet know me.
"So tell me," Edward says to his brother. "Have you any prospects for marriage, or are you still married to your work?" I look at my husband, surprised by his jovial tone. He is in such high spirits, I cannot bring it in me to reciprocate his brother's awkwardness. I silently vow to be cheerful and pleasant, even if he is not so.
Michael shifts on his seat, his eyes fluttering quickly toward me before he looks at his brother. "There is a woman," he says slowly. "I would court her, if only her heart was more readily available."
His words combined with his glance have taken me by surprise. Does he mean me? Surely he cannot; he has never met me before.
"Ah," Edward says gently. "I am sorry, brother. Unrequited love is a difficult mistress."
Michael shrugs, not looking at me. "It is no matter. If it is God's will, then love will find a way."
I see Edward smile at his brother, but I find myself inching closer to my husband. I may not know much of the world, but I know enough to be suspicious of behavior like Michael's. I do not know how far he is willing to go to acquire an unavailable woman, but I do not want to find out.
"Tell me how your work has been," Edward prompts.
Michael nods, his eyes flickering toward me again before he focuses on his brother. "It fares well," he starts. "I have found myself promoted several times." He pauses, his face souring some as he looks over Edward. "Of course, not nearly as often as you have."
I look at Edward in time to see him shift, looking uncomfortable.
I gently reach out, taking his hand, and he looks at me with a soft smile, his fingers curling around my own. When I turn back to Michael, it is to see him glaring at our joined palms.
Edward opens his mouth again, perhaps to ask another question, when there is a sharp knock on our door.
"Enter," Edward calls, gently letting my hand go as he gets to his feet.
A page enters, bowing to Edward before turning to Michael. "Sir, you have been summoned by his eminence."
Michael nods, getting to his feet. "Thank you." He turns to Edward. "We will catch up more another time."
Edward nods in agreement, reaching out and taking Michael into a swift hug. "It is good to see you again, brother," Edward murmurs. Over my husband's shoulder, I watch a look I cannot quite decipher cross Michael's face. A grimace? Regret? I cannot pin it down.
They part ways, and Michael pivots to give me another stiff bow before he's striding out of the room. When the page leaves, shutting the door behind him, Edward turns to me.
"I am so glad you got to meet him," Edward says before I can make any remarks to him.
I feel my shoulders drop ever so slightly, and I smile at him. "I am happy to meet all of your family members," I tell him. I decide I will not disclose how uncomfortable Michael made me feel. Perhaps he is a person that makes others uneasy by his very nature. If so, it will do no good to remark upon it.
"Our family," Edward corrects me gently. "They are yours now too."
I swallow thickly, overwhelmed by his words.
"I love you," I whisper, the words easier to say the more often I let them go.
Edward's smile steals my breath. "I love you more than anything," he whispers, his fingers gently cupping my face.
Perhaps it is that I am still feeling anxious from waking up to see him gone, but I feel as if I do not want to let him go out of my sight for even a moment.
But soon enough, there is another knock on the door, and Edward is kissing me, bidding me a good day before he is dragged off to entertain the duke. For a moment, I wonder what I am meant to do to keep myself busy, but my questions are soon answered when a maid comes to fetch me. I follow her through the castle to my sister's drawing room. Inside, there is a large group of women whom I've never seen before. Most of them seem to be near my sister's age, perhaps a touch older. No one is as young as me.
Most of the women have embroidery in their laps, though it does not look as if they are actively working on any of it.
My sister is perched on a large chair near the stone fireplace. It looks as if she is holding court, as all the other women's chairs are tilted toward hers.
"Bella," Rosalie calls as I enter. "Come in. I want you to meet everyone!"
I enter cautiously, aware of the eyes fixed on me.
Rose reaches up, her fingers stretching toward me, and eventually I step to her side, allowing me to take my hand in hers.
"Bella, this is Marchioness Beatrice Harcourt, Countess Laudine Middleton, Baroness Genevieve Stukely, and Baroness Emily Younge." Her fingers wave through the air, pointing to each woman in turn before she gestures toward me. "This is my sister, Lady Isabella Cullen."
The women gave me appraising looks, their gazes flickering between myself and each other.
Finally, the woman my sister identified as Countess Middleton sets aside her sewing and nods her head in my direction.
"Lady Cullen," she says. Her voice is too high-pitched, like a child's, and laced with a saccharine sweetness that puts me ill at ease. "What an honor it is to finally meet you," she continues. "We have heard ever so much about you from the duchess."
I glance nervously at Rosalie who looks completely at ease as she leans back, rubbing her swollen stomach.
"The pleasure is mine," I say, unsure of exactly what else to do. I have no training in court decorum, no instruction on whom to address first, or how to understand the subtle looks the women keep exchanging.
"Will you join us?" Baroness Stukely asks, motioning to an empty chair near a window. It is farther from the rest of the group, but the off chance of getting an ounce of fresh air is enough to tempt me into it. I take my seat, and soon a lady-in-waiting is bringing me a selection of items to sew. The materials are finer than anything I have worked with before, the thread slipping through my fingers like silk.
I glance up to see all the women watching me, and I feel my cheeks flush warm under their scrutinous gazes.
Eventually, they seem to tire of watching me stumble, for they turn their attention back on each other.
"Beatrice," Countess Middleton says, tilting her head. Her hair is fair, like spun spider's silk, and her face has a pinched look, as if her shoes or corset are too tight. The tightness extends in small lines around her sharp blue eyes, making her gaze piercing and focused. "You were telling us of your trip to the capital," she prompts.
Marchioness Harcourt nods. Her dark eyes look wiser, and there is a steadiness about her that I cannot relate to.
"Yes," the marchioness says gently. Unlike everyone else in the room, I can see actual stitches in her work. "Well, as I told you last, Jacob has been summoned by the king." She pauses, her eyes flickering toward me. "Pardon me, Lady Cullen. My husband is Marquess Jacob Harcourt," she explains. I nod to show her I am following along. "Well, the king sent for us, and we were meant to arrive in the capital later this season," she says, motioning toward my sister. Rosalie nods, as if she understands what the marchioness is not saying. "The king was insistent we come at once, so naturally, we went." She pauses, and I see her fingers flex over her stitching. "We were in the capital three months."
The women lean in, adamant to catch every word. "What did the king want?" Baroness Younge asks, breathless.
The marchioness shifts in her chair. "There are talks of war," she says, uneasy.
I feel my heart plummet, and it is everything I can do not to gasp aloud.
"Oh, men always talk of war," the countess says, lifting a hand and waving it dismissively through the air. "They have little else to discuss because that is the extent of what they understand."
The women titter and giggle at her provocative statement, but I can feel my heart now thundering in my breast.
There cannot be more war.
"Have you ever seen the capital, Lady Cullen?"
I turn to catch the countess's bright blue gaze on me. I recognize the malicious glint in her eye; it is not that different from the one Grandmother always possessed. It makes me immediately on guard, and I find myself even more concerned with choosing my words wisely.
I clear my throat softly. "I have not," I say, shaking my head. "Though, my husband has."
"You must forgive the duchess for not being a more attentive hostess," the countess says, reaching over to pat the back of my sister's hand. "But tell us who your husband is?"
I glance at Rosalie who looks exhausted sitting beside the fire. I am not even certain she's following the conversation.
"My husband is General Edward Cullen," I tell them.
The women gasp. "Le Lion?" Baroness Younge asks, a hand flying to her mouth.
"What?" I ask, confused.
"It is nothing," the countess says, throwing her hands up as if to hold back the conversation. She gives the women an urgent look. "It is just a silly nickname the general has come to be known by," she says, glancing anxiously back at me.
"My husband has a reputation?" I ask, my stomach twisting uncomfortably.
The women look horrified that I am so in the dark.
"Do you truly not know?" the marchioness asks, her eyes wide with worry.
"What is it?" I ask, panic starting to fill me.
"Bella, it is nothing," Rosalie says, seeming to come out of her daze. "Gossip, nothing more—"
"It is hardly just gossip," the countess corrects, sniffing hard. "General Cullen has a ruthless reputation. They called him Le Lion in battle because it was said that he tore men apart with his bare hands."
The women all gasp, properly scandalized. I feel as if she has just pulled the world out from under my feet. I fear if I had not been sitting, I would fall.
"What?" I ask, my voice barely more than a croak.
"He was bloodthirsty and cruel," the countess continues. "My husband saw it firsthand."
My hands are shaking in my lap. They cannot be talking of my Edward.
"Y-you must be mistaken," I say, my voice trembling.
"They are," Rosalie agrees. "We shall speak on it no more." Her voice is firm, and the women nod, properly chastised.
The countess eyes me, and I sense in her the same cruelty that Grandmother possesses. She is a predator, looking for prey.
Any strength I think I have gained since getting to know Edward has since waned out of me. I cannot fathom the man they have described, cannot believe that he is my husband.
"Has anyone yet seen Lady Constance's new frock?" Baroness Stukely asks, her voice hinting at scandal. The women fall into tittering gossip about a woman I do not know. I do not participate in the conversation, my mind is far too preoccupied. If the rumors are true, then I have been sharing my bed with much more of a stranger than I ever could have guessed.
It cannot be so.
I commit to finally asking Edward directly tonight once we are back in our room.
But all day, I do not see him, and even at supper, he is seated so far away from me that I can scarcely get a glimpse of him.
I am exhausted from my worry, but when Edward still does not come back to our room despite the late hour, I feel my eyes starting to droop.
I am asleep long before he makes it to bed.
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