Author's Note: Please forgive the massive delay. Caught a rough cold that took me under for a few days, then work was nuts, followed by too much fun over the holidays...you get the idea. This is a slightly shorter chapter; I opted to cut off part of it so I could get back on track with new updates faster.


- Chapter 12: Thy Mother's Glass -

The house was blissfully quiet, a contented sigh of relief after the tension and frenzy of the last week.

It was just Edward, Nessie, and me—the guests had all departed, and Edward had given Ben, Angela, and his newest employee Mrs. Weber a paid week off. The sweet woman had cried in relief when he told her he expected her back at work with her daughter the following Monday.

As the trio drove away in Ben's jalopy that evening, I shot Edward an amused look.

"Been listening in?" I said, grinning.

"As if I could help it," Edward replied dryly. "She's been praying every hour since she arrived that I'd keep her on."

A touch of melancholy burned around my heart. I adored the Webers, and it hurt me to know how hard things had been for them.

Edward's expression reflected how I felt. "She was worried she'd have to pull the boys out of school to help."

And Edward, of course, would never allow that.

One of the many things about him that warmed me through, touched my soul…terrified me, electrified me.

No, this was no idle infatuation.

That stark fact that should have been obvious to me for ages now beamed bright in the weak morning light.

I watched Edward from under my lashes as he joined us in the kitchen for breakfast, much to my surprise. His demeanor had lightened with the immediate danger seemingly past. He laughed and joked with Nessie, teasing me, too, until I blushed.

Mrs. Weber had baked fresh scones for us the day before, and I picked at mine slowly, trying to stretch the morning's joy.

"Uncle Edward, don't you want any?" Nessie asked, spreading impossibly red raspberry jam on her scone.

Edward's burnished gold eyes met mine and I felt that frisson of energy pass between us. A slow smile spread across his lips, and he pulled a scone from the plate.

I watched, eyes wide in fascination, as he popped a crumbly bit in his mouth. He winked at me as he chewed, making my stomach clench. When I dropped my eyes to the table, I caught the hint of movement—his hand, tucking the uneaten piece in his napkin.

I bit back a laugh; he was good at this.

"Shall I join you for lessons again today?" he asked Nessie, who squealed her delighted assent. I kept much quieter, though I felt much the same. The affable, warmhearted side of Edward had been mostly out of sight while the visitors were about; I was relieved and pleased to have him back.

We spent the morning lesson going through the book report Nessie had written on Little Women. I'd intended for her just to read it aloud, but Edward stopped her every few moments with deep, probing questions on her opinions.

Nessie was getting hot under the collar as he interrogated her on her insistence that Jo putting aside her writing to marry was a negative.

"What greater fulfillment can there be for a woman than to be a good wife and mother?" Edward pressed on, eyes twinkling.

"Mrs. Weber works outside the home and she's an excellent mother," Nessie countered. "Jo always wanted to write, and she had talent. She should be able to do both. Nobody would say children should stop a man from writing—so why do they say that about a woman?" She shook the pages of her report in Edward's direction for emphasis. "If what's good for the goose is good for the gander, then the goose ought to do what she's good at, and all the ganders can stuff it!"

"An excellent point, and well argued," Edward said, chuckling. "I bow to your rhetorical supremacy." He nudged her with a smile. "And for the record, I agree with you."

I covered a grin with my hand. "All right, Socrates, that's enough. Let her finish reading her report."

"What's a sock rat tease?" Nessie asked, intense curiosity piqued.

"Don't get your uncle started, or we'll be here all day," I said dryly. "Now read on."

- o - o - o -

Edward spent nearly the whole day with the two of us, adding commentary to our history lesson, drilling Nessie on her times tables, and even starting to teach her some piano scales at her request.

The sight of the two of them at the instrument brought the evenings Edward played with Tanya to mind, and I pressed my lips together against the sour expression that threatened to rise as I watched. They made a beautiful picture, and I wished my jealousy wouldn't taint it.

Edward caught my eye over Nessie's head with a questioning look, brow endearingly furrowed. I shook my head slightly, forcing a small smile.

Ignoring me, he stood from the bench. "Keep going," he said to Nessie, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly. She didn't look up from her task, face furrowed in concentration as she spread her fingers across the keys to replicate the chord he had shown her.

He pulled me to the side, a little out of Nessie's earshot. "Is everything all right?"

"Of course," I lied. "Do you mind continuing without me? I have a bit of tidying to do upstairs."

Edward's eyes tightened slightly as he searched my face, but he didn't press. "By all means," he said. "I do have some business to attend to this evening—I'll be away for a few hours."

A jolt of nerves shot through me as I thought of the last time he had left Nessie and me.

He saw the fear and took my hand in his, squeezing gently with cool fingers. "I won't be far," he promised, "and Jasper is nearby, too. Even if we're not in the house with you, you're not alone."

"Thank you," I said softly.

"Will you come to my study later? After Nessie's in bed?" He gave me a meaningful look. "I believe there are still some things you wished to discuss."

I suddenly remembered the end of our conversation that night in the meadow and all the questions he promised he would answer. "Oh! Yes, of course!"

Edward tipped his head in that distinct manner of his, almost a bow. "And do try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone." One elegant brow raised, mocking me gently. "Even guardian angels need a rest now and again."

I stuck out my tongue at him, making him grin, and flounced off to take care of my cleaning duties. But despite my outward display of annoyance, knowing that Edward and his brother would be watching over us gave me a deep sense of relief.

- o - o - o -

By the time Nessie was snugly wrapped under the covers, I had neither seen nor heard any sign of Edward's return.

I climbed the stairs to the third floor anyway, and sure enough, he was waiting for me when I reached the landing. He loomed large in the open doorway to his study, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Is your…ah…business settled, then?" I asked as he stepped aside to let me slip past.

"More or less."

I settled in my familiar place on the sofa before the fire. Edward surprised me by passing his normal seat in the armchair and taking up the place beside me, though he left a respectable distance between us.

"Bella," he began, angling his body toward me. "I wanted to tell you again how well you're doing with Nessie. She really has come so far over the last two months."

I flushed—this was unexpected.

"Thank you," I mumbled, looking down at my hands in my lap. "She makes it easy."

He ignored my comment. "One of the things I asked Alice to look for in a tutor was someone who would help Nessie develop some independence."

I nodded, not sure where he was going, but I could tell this was something he felt the need to get off his chest before we returned to my interrogation.

"She'll never want for the material, I've made sure of that. But I'd like for her to cultivate a…an ability to care for herself beyond the necessities of life."

Risking a glance at him, I saw the heavy weight of his responsibility in those captivating eyes, glowing pale gold even in the reddish firelight. He must have hunted while he was gone, I thought idly. I wondered what it would be like to watch him hunt, the power and the ferocity, his long, patrician fingers against rough fur—

Edward was still speaking. I forced the image away with difficulty. "Her father…my grandson," he corrected, "Henry. He wasn't a bad man, but in many ways, I think growing up with every need, every want provided for limited him. From what I've gleaned, he cared mostly for the superficial. The education he offered Nessie seemed mostly designed to craft her into a fine ornament to some other wealthy man's life." The twist of his lip was bitter. "But that's not what I want for her."

"Or what you wanted for Lizzie?" I asked gently.

His gaze softened at her name, and he tipped his head to the side in a nod. "Her situation was different, but yes," he said. "Lizzie was forced to prioritize survival. She chose a kind man for a husband, and I could tell she had an affection for him. But I think she clipped her own wings in exchange for the security of a cage—a pretty cage, with room to roam, but a cage all the same."

He took a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter. "I want more than survival for Nessie," he said. "I want for her to be able to build a life on her own terms—to chase passions, take risks…fall in love."

Warmth spread through me, and I felt myself leaning closer to him, that familiar thread behind my ribs pulling me in.

"And you?" I asked, surprising myself with my own boldness. "Did you love Lizzie's mother?"

His face fell as he hesitated.

"In the way I knew how, yes," he said, choosing his words with care. "She was…delicate, vulnerable. I wanted so badly to protect her."

I was holding my breath, this new intimacy a fine, fragile soap bubble that floated between us. I dared not touch for fear of breaking it.

"Now, with a few decades more knowledge," —his lip quirked in the hint of self-deprecation— "I can see it was a self-serving sort of love, ultimately. I was desperate to be needed, and she needed to be cared for."

Edward's expression turned serious as he held my gaze. "I think true love, the kind I wish for Nessie, must be a partnership—two equals, becoming something greater together."

My heart sank—I would never be his equal by any measure. Even if by some miracle he came to feel something for me, I would always be the vulnerable one, the one in need of his protection. The stark truth was that I had nothing to offer him.

"Were you married to her?" I asked.

"Of course!" he sputtered, scandalized by the suggestion. "I would never…I couldn't—"

Despite the hollow feeling in my belly, I felt amusement rising. I quickly covered my smile with my hand, but not fast enough—Edward glared in response.

"We had our wedding mass at St. Mary's Cathedral, as was proper," he said priggishly.

"You're Catholic?" It seemed mildly surprising.

He shrugged. "I was raised Anglican, but she was French extraction—I didn't mind marrying in her tradition."

Something niggled at the back of my mind, but I let it be. "And now?" I asked.

"Well, seeing as I have no soul left to save, I suppose it doesn't matter what flavor of afterlife awaits." His tone was dry, but the slight slumping of his shoulders hinted at something underneath.

"No soul?" I frowned. "I can't believe that."

Edward snorted. "You sound like Carlisle."

Hearing the dismissal, I switched tracks. "Is it common for vampires to marry?" I asked, thinking of the blond patriarch of Edward's family. "Like Carlisle and Esme, and your siblings."

"Not exactly." He shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Our kind…mate…for eternity. It's an incredibly strong bond. Few feel the need for a human marriage on top of that."

I felt heat creeping up on my cheekbones at the word, but curiosity superceded all. "But your family does?"

"Well, Carlisle is Carlisle," he said with a crooked smile, as though that explained everything. "His father was a rather important bishop during Queen Elizabeth's reign. He still keeps the faith, in his own way, so a Christian marriage was important to him. And Esme would do anything for Carlisle."

I thought of the two of them, so clearly in love, and I wondered how long ago they had taken their vows.

Edward continued on. "Alice and Jasper find it useful to have a marriage certificate. And Rosalie loves being a bride." He made a sour face, making me laugh. "She and Emmett have a big wedding every decade or so—it's rather vexing."

"What about Carlisle's cousins?" I asked, before I could stop myself.

"They're not really cousins," Edward interrupted, "but you probably guessed that. Just like-minded friends."

"Kate, Irina, and…Tanya, then," I amended, trying not to stumble over her name. "They don't have mates?"

"Oh dear," he said, a sly smile appearing on his lips. "I fear I'm about to shock you."

"What?"

His eyes sparkled with mirth. "They…ah…prefer the company of human men."

A glimmer of hope—in more ways than one. It was almost impossible to keep my voice casual. "Vampires can have human mates?"

Edward looked away from me, suddenly discomfited. "I—well—ah, I don't know," he said, "but that's not what I meant. Their liaisons are rather…short-lived."

Understanding dawned. "Oh! So they just like to sleep with humans, you mean?" I laughed. "I suppose that is somewhat shocking. Though I'd imagine human sexual mores start to seem a bit quaint in the face of immortality."

Now Edward was shocked—he looked like he was about to choke at my plain language.

Amused, I thought I might tighten the screws. "I rather thought Tanya had taken a shine to you, though."

If he'd had blood in his veins, I was sure he would have been beet red from collar to hairline. As it was, he just looked pained. "Well. They may prefer humans, but they will…make exceptions, from time to time."

I raised an eyebrow. "And have you…?"

"Absolutely not!" he said with great force. I stifled a giggle, and he eyed me, relaxing slightly. "You're teasing me."

"A little," I admitted, still grinning.

His gaze narrowed in annoyance, but he was smiling too. "Tanya's well aware I'm not interested, but it amuses her to try," he said with a brief glance heavenward. "Though I will say I was more inclined to play along this visit. After hearing Antoinette's thoughts about you, it seemed prudent to plant the idea that I was involved elsewhere."

"Have you ever?" The flush rose again, but I forced myself to continue. "Been involved with someone, I mean, since you were turned."

I could feel him looking at me curiously, and I fidgeted under his gaze, my own eyes on my hands.

"No," he said finally. "I suppose it's how I was raised, or maybe just my nature, but I've never had much interest in that kind of dalliance. For me, it's everything or nothing at all."

My heart was pounding, and I was keenly aware of the scant distance between his thigh and mine. I had to regain control, move this conversation to safer territory…

"Antoinette," I said, latching onto his mention of her to change the topic. "You promised you'd tell me more about her."

It was sufficient to break the spell. Edward sat back a little, head cocked as he considered me. "I did, didn't I?"

"Who is she?" I asked quietly. "What does she want?"

Mouth a grim line, he looked at me in silence for so long that I began to wonder if he was going to answer at all. And then, he took a deep breath.

"If I tell you, can you promise that you'll let me get through the whole thing, without interruptions?"

Feeling my pulse quicken, I nodded solemnly.

"Antoinette is Lizzie's mother."

A strangled noise escaped me, making Edward's eyes narrow.

"You promised," he reminded me.

I bit my lip hard and nodded vigorously, desperate for him to continue.

"It's probably best to start at the beginning…"


Author's Note: Well, there you have it, folks. A couple of you guessed it, bless you! The next chapter will be the full story as Edward tells it to Bella.

Footnotes:

The chapter title, Thy Mother's Glass, comes from the third stanza of Shakespeare's Sonnet 3:
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime

My inner rebellious child is still salty about the way Little Women ended for Jo March, and I've firmly inserted Greta Gerwig's version of the events into my brain as canon ;)

Bella calls Edward Socrates as a reference to Socratic questioning as a method of teaching—asking your students questions to lead them to a discovery of some sort.

St. Mary's Cathedral was the first Catholic cathedral in Chicago, built in 1843 at the establishment of the city's Diocese. It was destroyed in the Great Chicago Fire in 1871.

Mixed marriages in the Catholic church were very much frowned upon in this era, but were permitted under certain conditions under the Benedictine dispensation. It got a little weird in 1869 but we're gonna go with it.

Ok I was raised Episcopalian and for the life of me, I still cannot find confirmation of whether the upper crust East coasters of the mid-19th century would use the term Anglican or Episcopal more often. I went with Anglican since it's the umbrella term but obviously that has the Church of England connotation that led to the preference for Episcopal pre- and immediately post-Revolution in the US…so any church historians out there, lemme know if I'm wrong! (Or don't, whatever)