Disclaimer: These characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I am just messing around with them.
A/N I don’t have a pre-reader or a Beta or anything of the sort. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
-x-X-x-
A Love So Beautiful: Chapter 23
Hertfordshire, England 1894
The road to Masen House is filled with memories for me. The last time I journeyed through this road my eyes were filled with tears and my heart encased in sorrow. I never dreamt I would be on my way to Masen House again, like I am today. Alice is smiling, seating next to Jasper in the seat across from me. She’s excited to be coming home, to the place that she was the happiest. I am torn between melancholy and hope. I haven’t dared to hope as intensely as I have in recent days. I haven’t dared to wish for things that I once thought unattainable, and now seem within reach. I am in a state of tensed excitement, hoping for the best yet fearing the worst.
Edward’s divorce is moving forward smoothly. The scandal has been minimised as much as could be expected, by Edward’s money and influence. Victoria is set to be sent to a state in the border with Scotland. Her family too shamed by her actions to welcome her into their home in London. She’s to be exiled, punished by her actions, when if anyone dares to look closely at the situation one might even pity her.
I confess that I do pity her.
Ever since I found out about her affair with Lord Biers I could not help but wonder if I would have acted any differently than she did, in regards of how she handled things when we were younger. I remember how fiercely I loved Edward. How I was willing to sacrifice anything for his love. I was merely lucky enough to be reciprocated in my affections. But would I have surrendered to fate had Edward not felt the same way about me? Would I have simply allowed him to be married to another woman of his choosing? I like to think I would have chosen his happiness over my selfish desires but my recent actions make me think otherwise.
I have not opened Peter’s most recent letter. I am scared of what words await me in its pages. He seemed so hopeful in its last letter. He was counting the days until the doctor announced his mother was fully recovered and he could join me again in London. He thought the separation would do me good and put our relationship into perspective, make me see how good we were together. I feel like a fraud when I think of how much my actions will hurt him. I feel as selfish as Victoria was when she sacrificed me to achieve her happiness. She was fully cognisant of my love for Edward and she didn’t hesitate to push me out of the way to make Edward hers. I am very well aware of Peter’s feelings for me, of his constancy and patience, of his friendship and devotion, and yet I’m prepared to sacrifice him if need be. Edward’s love has, once again, become the centre of my whole existence, as essential to me as breathing. Guilt courses through my veins the closer we get to Masen House.
The scariest part of it all is how much stronger is my happiness compared to my guilt.
-x-X-x-
Masen house is exactly as I remembered. Beautiful, red brick and white, high and magnificent against the blue skies of Hertfordshire. I look at these walls that hold so many memories, good and bad, and I smile. It’s been so long and in a way it feels like coming home. Aunt Leah holds my hand and I turn to smile at her. She is always so in tune with my feelings, she must sense the enormity of this moment for me.
“How are you feeling?” she asks me with a gentle smile grazing her lips.
I sigh deeply, breathing in the air of this place that holds a big part of who I used to be. I can almost hear the ghost of my past giggling in the meadow beyond the hill. “I feel amazing,” I reply, and it’s not a lie.
-x-X-x-
Alice is walking ahead of me. She’s so glad to be home, her happiness is contagious.
“Bella, can you believe that we’re home at last? It felt like ages since the last time we were here!”
I nod in agreement because in spite of Peter, and my aunt, and my parents’ love, it has felt like ages to me. The past five years have been longer than I can count with my fingers. I count those years in the scars that mar my heart, the same scars I can feel closing up and mending the closer Edward is to freedom and to me.
“Father isn’t home at the time being,” Alice remarks, confusing my silence with concern. “So don’t you go worrying about a confrontation. He’s hardly here since mother passed away.” She opens the door to my old room, the guest room that in years past had almost become my own. The maids are putting away my luggage as I walk behind Alice. It looks the same and somehow I’m surprised by that fact. I always assumed that after Edward and Victoria married she would do her utmost to erase me from this place, from Edward’s whole life.
As if reading my mind Alice says, “He would not let anyone in this room. No one but his most trusted valet and a maid were allowed here to clean. You have no idea how much Victoria loathed this room.”
I have no doubts that Victoria hated this room with a passion.
“Your father and mother will arrive soon?” Alice asks, changing the subject.
“Yes,” I reply, shaking off the deluge of memories threatening to overtake me. The weeping willow is still swaying by my window. Its leaves dancing with the gentle afternoon breeze. I look towards the bed and I cannot help but remember the last time I was in this room.
"I don't know who you are anymore, but you're not my Edward. My Edward would have fought for us until his last breath."
"Maybe you never knew me."
I often wonder if I will be able to leave the past behind me. If this house will one day be a place of happiness to me, and not the place where I had my heart broken.
“Was your father terribly upset with you? I am sure he’s not happy with this arrangement. He may fear that you’re coming to Masen house to secretly meet with Edward.”
I blink rapidly, shaken from my memories by Alice’s words.
“He was not ecstatic as you have guessed. However, if I was planning anything untoward I would not have invited them as well. I would have insisted your presence and Jasper’s was sufficient to thwart any rumours about Edward and me. Father knows me and trusts me implicitly. I must confess though that if it weren’t for Aunt Leah’s sage words of advice he might have not agreed to let me come.”
“Your Aunt really cares about you,” Alice points out as the maids set up the tea in front of crackling fire. The breeze is cool and I can sense that it will be a very cold night.
“Yes, she never had any children. Her husband died when he was young and she never loved anyone enough to marry him afterwards. I think she sees me as her own and I must confess that I love her as a mother. She has been a source of much strength for me in recent years.”
Alice takes my right hand in hers and gently wraps her fingers with mine. “I cannot imagine what it must have been like. To be so far away, after what my bother did to you. I will never be able to thank you for giving him a second chance, Bella.”
“Nothing is set in stone, Alice,” I am fast to clarify. “I’m simply waiting to see how things unfold. It all depends on your brother now. I’ve told him I would give him a chance to court me once he was free to do so.”
“That is so much more than anyone could expect and so much more than he deserves after the pain he caused you,” Alice says, smiling at me.
Trying to lighten the mood I ask after Alice’s little one. She gushes and smiles, telling me how she recently felt the baby move inside her and how excited Jasper is to have a daughter. Alice insists it’s a son but Jasper hopes for a little girl he can spoil rotten.
“Surely, it’s odd for a man of his status to hope for a girl instead of a boy, and heir to his title,” I note, somewhat surprised by Alice’s revelation.
She smiles, a soft smile that’s full of joy and contentment. I’m so glad to see my friend enjoy such fulfilment in her life after the pain she has gone through.
“He says he wants her to look exactly like me, because he can’t imagine loving anyone more than a little girl with his blood that looks like me. He’s such a romantic, Bella. I never imagined I would come to love him as I do.”
For a brief moment I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to marry Peter. I don’t love him like I should but I feel for him much more deeply than Alice felt about Jasper when she married him. The first year of her marriage I remember Alice crying about the injustice of her fate. I remember hearing her sniffling softly, hidden in the library. I remember how she avoided Jasper like the plague. She loathed him, and yet, she learnt to love him in time. Could I ever love Peter? Could I fall in love with him like Alice fell in love with Jasper?
I feel dizzy with the possibilities. There was a time in which I would have never doubted my fate was irrevocably linked to Edward’s. Now however, doubts and guilt fill my heart. I don’t want to hurt Peter, and deep down I know I could come to love him. On the other hand, I have never been able to completely let go of Edward— not even with an ocean between us. Would it be fair to Peter, to condemn him to a life of half-love. I would love him, of that I’m certain, but my heart would be forever bound to Edward’s in some way. I would give Peter only the part of my heart that I could spare, whereas I could give Edward my whole heart without a doubt.
Alice takes notice of my troubled thoughts and enquires after my wellbeing.
“Do you feel all right, Bella? I’m certain the travelling has exhausted you!”
“I’m quite all right,” I reply with a weak smile. “Simply tired. I think I will nap before it’s time for supper.”
“That is a marvellous idea,” Alice agrees excitedly. “This wee child has been tiring me out. I need a good nap myself.”
I smile as Alice gently pats her round belly. Her happiness is contagious even with all the fears that haunt my thoughts. I smile and hug her as she leaves me alone in my old room. I lie in bed, thinking of the last day I spent in this house, in this room, and the despair that filled me. I breathe deeply and wish for the day in which things are less complicated than they are now. In which I can simply be happy.
-x-X-x-
It’s late at night when I hear it. A piano being played in the dead of night. For one moment my heart beats faster, hopeful that it might be Edward who has come to Masen House early, but then I remember he told me in his last letter that he would be detained in London for at least one more week before he could join us in Masen house.
The song is infinitely sad and I have to blink the tears that escape my eyes in response to the melancholy of the melody. I wrap myself in a robe, and go out in search of the lonely piano player.
Somehow, I know who to expect, since there’s only one person who can play the piano so wonderfully besides Edward. However, I’m no less surprised as I stumbled into Lord Carlisle, playing the piano in the music room, a glass of scotch teetering beside him on the bench.
After so many years, it feels odd to be before the man who ruined my most beloved dreams and hopes and feel… nothing.
I’ve always pictured a different scene altogether. I imagined that I would yell at him, show him my disdain, show him that even though his actions managed to separate me from Edward he hadn’t completely broke me— just my heart. Moreover now that it seemed possible for Edward and I to be together once again. However, the man before me is not the Lord who ruled over everyone’s lives, including his children. This man is lonely, this man makes me feel pity for him instead of the hatred I imagined.
“Do you plan to stand all night there watching me, child?” Lord Carlisle’s gruff voice interrupts my musings. “Or do you have anything you would like to say to me after all these years?”
I blink in surprise, taken aback by Lord Carlisle’s words. He stops playing and drinks all the scotch left in the glass before turning to look at me.
I gasp. A once proud and handsome man, Lord Carlisle is nothing but a ghost of the man he used to be. Bags under his eyes, wrinkles of worry now mar his once almost perfect features. He has aged twenty years in the last five years since I’ve last seen him.
“I see you’ve grown even lovelier with the years, no wonder my son is so willing to destroy the family name to marry you. I can’t say I would not do the same were I in his place. In fact, I did exactly the same when I was his age,” Lord Carlisle says standing up. He walks towards the liquor cabinet and serves himself another full glass of scotch.
“I don’t understand,” I reply in a daze, because I truly don’t understand what he means with his last statement. When has he done anything that could damage the family name?
“Of course you wouldn’t,” he says simply, gulping down his newly served glass. He serves himself another glass and flops into a nearby chair, spilling some of his scotch on the floor.
“Oh uh,” he says and giggles as a small child who has been caught doing something naughty.
I do not recognise this man sitting before me. Where is the proud man that was so quick to separate his son from the one woman he has ever loved to marry him off to a woman he could barely stand— all in the name of furthering the family fortune and name?
“I think I better leave,” I say turning towards the door.
“Did you know that Lady Esme was a merchant’s daughter? A poor merchant’s daughter at that. Her father had depleted their resources long before he died in the bed of a whore at the ripe age of forty. He left them with nothing but humiliation. I met her when she was appointed as Lord Jasper’s governess. Her station was even lower than yours, girl.”
I turn and glare at him. He has no right to say I am of a low station when his soul is obviously lower than that of the lowest of the men on earth.
“How shocking then, that a man so proud as yourself, my lord, would bother himself with such a lowly girl to even marry her,” I retort, infusing as much scorn as I can in my voice.
“She was such a lovely girl,” he continues, not at all offended by my derision. “She had the loveliest green eyes, just like Edward’s.”
“My lord, I think you need to go to bed. You’re talking nonsense.” I make to retreat once more but Lord Carlisle speaks again before I can leave.
“My father was livid. He disowned me. I married her anyways. I went against my father and my family. I was his second son, the spare, so he didn’t hesitate to send me away with my new wife, and denying me my birthright. For four years we lived in poverty, I tended to the little shop that survived from Esme’s inheritance and we barely had enough money to feed baby Alice. We were so poor I could not pay for a doctor to tend to Esme when she started bleeding while she was pregnant with our second child. We lost our boy that night and we lost ourselves as well. We were never the same after Anthony died.”
I’m completely taken aback by Lord Carlisle’s words. Why has he chosen to share such intimate details of his past with me? And who is this man? I would have never guessed that he would be capable of sacrificing his entire inheritance to marry for love. Not when he was so adamant that none of his children should marry for the same reason he married his wife. Only advantageous marriages for the Cullen children, that was his motto.
“How did you inherited the estate then?” I ask, because I want to know now. I want to understand what drove this man, who once believed in love so fiercely that he was willing to renounce everything for it, into becoming the man who tore me from Edward and tore his son’s heart in the process, as well as mine.
“When father died, my eldest brother, Marcus, invited us to return home. He was a very kind soul, and he welcomed me and my family with open arms. Esme was still recovering from her miscarriage so I was relieved by the fact that I could take care of her and Alice from then on. I devoted myself to my family’s investments, since my father’s lack of foresight, and my brother’s ingenuity, had made them dwindle. However, in the process I neglected my family, spending more and more time in London focused in business.”
“I do not blame Esme for what she did. I forgave her a long time ago, even when she never forgave herself,” He finished, grabbing the bottle of scotch and drinking directly from it.
What could sweet lady Esme had done to him? She was the sweetest, loveliest of women I have ever met. Even though she never protected Edward from Carlisle’s machinations, I would never imagine her as a person capable of hurting anyone on purpose.
“Please don’t speak ill of the dead. She isn’t here to defend herself,” I say, outraged by Lord Carlisle’s implied allegations.
“She would not defend herself, even if she were here. She was always the first to cast the blame on herself whenever it came to us. It was always my fault in the end though, all of it.”
“What are you mumbling about? I think I’ll go find Lord Jasper. You need to stop drinking and go to bed,” I retort, turning towards the door. Just as I’m about to cross the threshold I hear him speak again, and what he says shocks me deeply.
“She was alone, and Marcus was so kind. He took my place as Alice’s father figure while I spent months at the time away. I now understand I was simply running away from the pain of our loss. Esme could not escape the pain, so she welcomed Marcus as a friend, and eventually she welcomed him into her bed…our bed.”
“What?” I stutter. There are no words to convey the level of surprise I feel at Lord Carlisle’s revelation.
He continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “It was a late February night when I received a letter from Masen house telling me my brother had been in an accident. His horse had spooked during a hunting trip and threw him off. He was dying. So I rushed home, riding through the night as fast as I could. When I arrived all I could see was Esme crying in a corner and all of the servants’ faces filled with sadness for their kind master. I knew immediately I was too late to say goodbye to my brother, and that I was the new Lord of Masen House, the new Lord Cullen. I rushed to Esme’s side and as I hugged her I knew. I felt it—”
I frown, not understanding what it was he felt.
“I was gone almost exactly eight months, and yet as I hugged my sobbing wife, I felt the round bump of a babe growing inside her. Edward was born exactly four months after that night, almost exactly a year since I’d last lain with my wife.”
My eyes widened. No, it couldn’t be. Lady Esme would have never done that. Never.
“You’re lying!” I hear someone roar from behind me, and I turn to find a livid Edward standing by the door of the music room. He’s still on his travelling clothes.
“Mother would never…she was a saint to tolerate the vile man you have become. She would have never done that!” Edward screams directly at his father, venom lacing his voice.
“Your mother was many great things, beautiful, lovely, kind, but a saint was not one of them. She was human, just like the rest of us.”
Edward walks past me, directly towards his father, and picks him up by the lapels of his coat. He spits his next words at him with fury, “Don’t you dare taint my mother’s memory! You can hate me all you wish for being a disappointment to you, but don’t you dare imply I’m not your son or imply that my mother laid with your brother. Don’t you dare!” He emphasises the last three words.
Lord Carlisle laughs bitterly and I jump, frightened, when Edward punches him in the jaw and Lord Carlisle lands in the floor, at Edward’s feet.
“You stupid boy!” Lord Carlisle shouts between guffaws from the floor. He’s so drunk all of his secrets are spilling out of him, unbidden. “The only reason I accepted you as my son is because we share the same blood, and because I owed your mother the son she lost when I was too poor to pay for a doctor to tend her. You’re the son of my brother, and if you don’t want to believe me, then believe your mother’s own words.” He pulls a rumpled, old paper from his coat and throws it at Edward.
I run towards them and pick up the old piece of paper so that Edward doesn’t have to go anywhere near the man he has called father for all these years. I open it, and immediately recognise lady Esme’s elegant handwriting. I hand it to Edward, my hands shaking, dreading the pain his mother’s words will cause Edward.
He starts reading them and his eyes fill with tears as he scans the page. I stand behind him and read along the words that are slicing his heart into shreds.
Dear son,
If you’re reading this, it means that I died before I could garner enough courage to tell you the truth in person. I’ve wronged you, I’ve wronged your father, and I’ve wronged myself by failing those who I love and loved me so much in return.
I will not try to justify my actions with empty excuses. The truth of the matter is that I am not perfect, and I failed your father in every regard. He forgave me and loved me even as I broke his heart, and I will never be able to repay him for letting me keep you, when he was in his right to send you away and never let me lay eyes on you again.
You see, there was a time in our lives in which things were not as easy as they are today. We were poor, so very poor, and due to our lack of funds, I lost a child whom I named Anthony, just like you. I never blamed your father, but I know he blamed himself. He swore we would never be poor again, and that I would never want for anything, ever again. His new purpose was to make money, and with that single idea driving him, he spend much time away from me. I was still grieving. I felt so very lonely. Even with your sister, there was a part of me that had died along with my baby, and I needed comfort. Your father was away for most of the year, making us and his family richer. Your father’s brother, Marcus, he was a gentle man. He was sweet, attentive, all the things I needed when I was hurting the most. I loved your father so very much, but as you will one day learn, sometimes it’s the ones we love the most, the ones we hurt more deeply. I will never know or understand fully what drove me to Marcus’ arms. I could blame it on loneliness or sorrow, but none of those are excuses for what I did. All I can assume is that I was out of my mind with grief, and was not thinking clearly when I betrayed your father thus.
I let myself be encased by Marcus’ love as a way to forget my own shortcomings as a wife and as mother, and in doing so I hurt your father, and I hurt Marcus too, for I never loved him as he loved me. My love was always for Carlisle, even if my actions speak otherwise.
No matter what, no matter what he may pretend, Carlisle, your father, he loves you. Marcus may have been the man who sired you, but make no mistake son, behind all those walls he has built to protect himself from his pain, Carlisle loves you deeply and only wants the best for you.
When you were little he used to spend countless nights watching you sleep, and I’ve never seen a man so enamoured with his son as your father was with you. You’re Carlisle’s son and he’s your father. For all his mistakes— and he has made as many as I have— he has always loved you.
I know you’re still hurting over being driven apart from Isabella— even as you try to hide it from me— but you have to understand son, that in your father’s eyes it was like history repeating itself. He sacrificed everything for me, only to have his heart broken, he did not wish the same fate for you. In his need to protect you from that heartbreak, he hurt you deeper than Isabella ever could. I failed you as well in many regards. I did not go against your father when I should have and I know he used my illness to keep you by our side. I will forever regret my weakness, but I was selfish. I had already lost a son, and hurt your father so very deeply. I knew my time on earth was coming to an end, and I selfishly wished for a few more years with your father and you. You may never forgive me, but please know this one truth: you were loved, you’re loved, and from whatever place I go after I leave this earth— for I’m not sure I deserve heaven after all my misdeeds— I will watch over you and your sister and try to right all the wrongs we did you.
Your loving mother,
Esme
My eyes fill with tears as I read through lady Esme’s words, and without stopping to think how inappropriate it may look I hug Edward from behind, as he shakes with restrained sobs.
“Esme…Esme… Why did you have to leave me, Esme?” I hear Lord Carlisle mumbling from the floor, his lip bloody, his eyes closed. I’ve never felt more pity for another creature before. I may never forget what this man did to Edward and me, but now I know with certainty that I have forgiven him. He is living in hell as it is. He doesn’t need anymore reasons to blame himself.
Edward turns to me after a short time, and places his hands on each side of my face. Our tears mingle as he kisses me softly, longingly, the raw kiss of two lovers that were driven apart for much too long.
“Please, let us leave this room. I need to be away from him, and we need to discuss a matter of rather importance,” Edward murmurs against my lips.
I nod and follow him, his fingers tangled with mine. I turn to gaze one final time at the man lying on the floor, and a single tear escapes my eyes as I take in the ruins of the man he used to be. No one, not even him, deserves to be so dead inside.
-x-X-x-
Jikes… a lot happened in this chapter. Much more than I intended to! These characters have a mind of their own! Do we still hate Carlisle, or do we feel a tiny bit sorry for him now? We’re getting closer and closer to the prologue, maybe three or four more chapters. Eek!
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