Not Her! (Outtake from Edward's POV for Chapter 7 - The Hunt.)

I was expecting Rosalie to make trouble, so I tried to keep abreast of events amongst the servants. But it was difficult without making my interest in Bella publicly known. Jenkins kept his ear to the ground, but he heard nothing of great import other than the unsurprising news that the 'new girl' had a number of young footmen, kitchen-hands and a groomsman or two, all vying for her attention. One could hardly blame them. I was pleased to hear that she had, so far, done nothing to encourage any one individual. Although that didn't stop some of the young braggarts from making empty boasts. At least, I hoped they were empty.

The morning of the hunt, I was so busy with arrangements and issuing orders to make sure the event ran smoothly, thoughts of the girl's safety were pushed to the back of my mind—though not banished entirely. Upon sighting Rosalie on horseback a short time before we were due to head out after the hounds, I let my guard down, falsely assuming that any threat to Bella would be suspended with Rosalie's occupation. I couldn't have been more wrong. If I'd been atop Sabre, I could have gotten to Bella's side more quickly, but I had dismounted while my groom made a last minute adjustment to a fetlock bandage. When I saw Bella outside, unsuitably attired for the early morning chill and carrying an obviously heavy tray out amongst the horses and their riders, my heart lodged in my throat.

I ran, shoving man and horse aside, desperately trying to attract her attention. Catching her eye, I called for her to stop and go back to the safety of the perimeter. But Rosalie saw my approach and reissued her command. What happened next was the stuff of nightmares, unfolding before me as if in slow motion.

Lady Kendleton's big bay, as obstreperous as its owner, bit the horse being ridden inexpertly by one of the Misses Winthrop. Her grey gelding reared, spinning away from its attacker . . . and right into Bella. The tray she was holding went flying, and I lost sight of her in the ensuing melee.

"No!" I shouted, forcing my way through the crowd, the words Not her! screaming in my mind. Closing in on the unfolding catastrophe, I glimpsed Bella's crumpled form lying on the ground. She was at imminent threat of being trampled, as the incompetent riders struggled to move their now frantic beasts out of the way.

Just missing a vicious kick by one panicked animal, and ducking under the flying hooves of another, I dove for Bella. She'd had the presence of mind to make herself as small a target as possible. I covered her with my body, my relief so great I barely felt the hoof that landed heavily on my thigh, though I imagined I would be made aware of it later. As quickly as possible, I dragged Bella to safety and then cradled her in my arms.

"It's all right; you're safe now. Open your eyes, Bella . . . please," I pleaded, ignoring the calls and queries of the guests and servants who had come running.

Bella's long, dark lashes fluttered open, and to my relief, I saw recognition in her eyes.

"You saved me," she murmured.

Disregarding my audience, I pulled her into a tight embrace, exceedingly grateful that I'd reached her in time. She had been hurt, a fact that infuriated me, but not too badly, I hoped.

Lifting a slender, shaking hand to the gash on her forehead, she then brought it before her eyes which widened and then rolled back in her head.

"Bella . . . Bella look at me!" I ordered, attempting to forestall another dangerous loss of consciousness. She obeyed me, and her beautiful brown eyes, clouded by shock, focused on my face.

"But . . . but there's blood!" she cried, her indignant reaction drawing a relieved chuckle from my lips.

I did my best to reassure her that all would be well. Then I lifted her into my arms, ignoring the now-throbbing pain in my thigh, and held her tight. I savoured the feel of her slender form as she clung to me: vulnerable, injured, and in pain. She was a servant of the lowest class yet somehow very dear. My conscience—my honour—demanded that I protect this mysterious, contradictory girl. By working in my father's household, she came under his protection—and mine—from vindictive ladies of so-called nobility, from accident, and, if necessary, from myself.

In no mood to placate my cousin-in-law or to protect her from public scrutiny, I did not hold back in my condemnation of Rosalie's behaviour. In my fury, I cared little if the lashing of my tongue caused her to be ostracised, well knowing the situation would only be temporary. The power she wielded as Emmett's wife and a leading member of my father's household meant that few members of society would dare to criticise or condemn her . . . to her face.

If I had my way, she would have received a thorough chastisement for her cruel and dangerous action. But that was Emmett's decision to make, not mine. Considering the way Rosalie had him wrapped around her little finger, it was highly unlikely to occur.

While that thought in the forefront of my mind, I watched my cousin approach, as he forced his mount through the ogling crowd. More determined than ever to protect Bella from the curiosity and unwelcome advances of my house guests, I made sure her head was tucked in against my shoulder, her lovely face hidden from view.

Emmett took in the scene—Rosalie furious and set apart by the crowd, the servant in my arms, though he would not have been able to ascertain her identity, and the injury to my leg—and responded accordingly, demanding to know what had occurred.

"Why don't you ask your wife, Emmett?" I replied, breaking the unspoken rule that existed between us and refusing to ignore Rosalie's behaviour for his sake any longer.

While we had never spoken of the events that had led to his unfortunate betrothal, Emmett was no fool, except where Rosalie was concerned. He knew full well he was her second choice, but he'd courted her regardless. As if that wasn't bad enough, the man I counted a friend as well as family had done the unthinkable and fallen in love with the woman he would eventually marry. It was the height of folly for one of our station to do so and the height of misfortune that the object of his profound desire and affection was one such as Rosalie. The lady was the epitome of Society's image of perfection with the most noble of bloodlines . . . and ice in her veins. Any hint of passion had been well and truly bred out of her, just as a disproportionate sense of entitlement and superiority and an acute aversion to physical intimacy had been well and truly drummed in.

I pitied Emmett his emotional attachment to a woman who was intrinsically unable to return his affection. Love made one weak and had no place in the marriage bed, and I would not be making the same mistake as my cousin.

After directing Emmett to lead the hunt, I strode away with Bella in my arms, eager to escape the scrutiny of the crowd and see her injuries attended to. There would be talk, no doubt, but my father was well known for his remarkably egalitarian treatment of his staff and tenants, and I was gaining a reputation for following in his eccentric footsteps.

While my actions would make little sense to our guests and neighbours, I hoped that they'd interpret the events based upon the public knowledge of my unpopular political leanings. If I was careful in my words and actions from this point, no one need know that Bella was someone of personal significance. But it was hard to hide how I felt. The beast I kept ruthlessly chained behind a façade of gentleman-like civility paced restlessly. The feel of Bella's lithe, feminine form nestled trustingly in my arms brought out the worst of my true nature. The centuries long 'breeding program' undertaken to produce the empire's ruling class had resulted in the current generation of refined, emotionally suppressed females. But the males of my class were a different breed entirely, and I hungered to make her my own. Yet despite the dark passion this particular girl evoked, I could not deny the tenderness that seeing her slight form laid out upon one of my father's chaise lounges aroused within me.

I knelt beside her, annoyed that I was unable to stifle the grimace of pain triggered by the action.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, her eyes fixed on my injured leg as she tried to sit up, clearly unready to do so.

"It's nothing," I murmured, and then attempted to lighten her concern with a mildly teasing approach.

With her safety ensured, I should have left her . . . walked away and not looked back. Anything more would increase the damage I'd already done with my extraordinary reaction to her having been placed in danger. But I stayed. Wanting to reassure her further, I smiled, drinking in the loveliness of her face, still remarkable in its beauty despite her increased pallor. Her wide eyes stared up at me, trustingly, captivated and captivating. Unable to resist, I stroked my fingers along the side of her jaw before cupping her cheek with my hand. Her shy smile and the blossoming of a faint but undeniable blush in her cheeks were my reward. They were also positive proof, despite her obvious intelligence and unusual level of education, it was assuredly common blood that flowed in her veins. With no hope of alliance or ulterior motivation, and even while lying injured and in shock, she was aware of me and responded to my touch. Her passion was neither sublimated by generations of careful breeding and rigorous training, nor was it hidden far below the surface.

Knowing that she would respond, it was all I could do not to lean down and kiss her then and there. The desire to do so was almost overwhelming. But my conscience, the part that ensured I maintained my veneer of civilisation at all costs, reasserted itself just in time.

Her pale, slender hand rose to where I still cupped her cheek, and I grasped it briefly. In danger of falling prey to inexcusable temptation, I released her and stood, forcing myself to turn away.

After issuing instructions pertaining to Bella's care and safety, and dismissing Henson's concerns regarding my own injuries, I strode from the room. Or that was my intention. Unable to resist, I hesitated at the doorway and turned back for one last look at the girl who, through no overt action or fault of her own, had set my normally well-ordered existence on its head.

"Make sure she's well cared for, Henson. I shall check in later today," I found myself saying words that revealed altogether too much of my inner turmoil. Then finally, I turned and left with a variation on the words from earlier echoing in my mind...

Why this girl?

Why now?

Why her?

The hunt was unaffected by the events preceding and came to a successful conclusion. After thanking the Master of the Hounds and turning Sabre over into my head grooms-man's faithful care, I attended to the guests. In all appearances, I was the attentive host, which couldn't have been further from the truth. My impatience to leave and ascertain Bella's wellbeing—and to see her again—was difficult to hide.

It was to be late in the afternoon before I was finally able to make my escape. Unsure where I would find Bella, I asked Henson to lead the way, as I made one of my rare visits to the kitchens. As a lad growing up in Worthington Hall, I'd been a frequent visitor. But times had changed, though Mrs Harrison, the Head Cook, appeared exactly the same . . . a little broader around the middle maybe. Nanny had always said one should never trust a skinny cook. Mrs. Harrison's cooking ability was, indeed, legendary, and I allowed myself to be briefly side-tracked by one of her hot, apricot tarts.

Then Mrs. Cope led mr to the small, cupboard-like room where Bella lay, still and silent, on a narrow cot.

"Who is watching over her?" I asked in a hushed but determined tone.

"I am, m'lord. I check on her periodically in between my other duties," Mrs. Cope responded, clearly puzzled by my prolonged interest. She had already given me her thanks for 'rescuing the girl,' and clearly thought I was going above and beyond the call of duty—and my realm of responsibility—with my further enquiries.

"You're a busy woman, Mrs. Cope. Between the wedding, the guests staying on, and now the hunt, you have done an exemplary job of keeping the household running smoothly, for which you have my heartfelt gratitude."

My words brought a rarely seen smile to the Head Housekeeper's face, one she did her best to suppress. It left me reasonably confident I had achieved my aim. While I had spoken with all sincerity, I had hopes that her cooperation would now be more easily obtained.

"I would hate to think we might lose the girl due to complications—she did receive a rather nasty blow to the head. So, I think it prudent to have one of the junior members of staff sit with her until we're confident she is out of the woods," I suggested with all solemnity. I would order it done if necessary but hoped not to have to resort to such blatant methods.

"Well, if you think that's necessary, m'lord." Mrs. Cope eyed me curiously but complied. "I shall arrange for young Angela to sit with the girl. She is a thoughtful lass, and they share a room, so they're well acquainted."

"I appreciate your diligence." I nodded my thanks and then stood waiting while Angela was summonsed, determined to see my request-come-order carried out before I left. My preference would have been to sit with Bella myself, but that was out of the question.

Angela, the young, shy girl who served at breakfast, stared at me in awe before bobbing a belated curtsey.

"You will watch her closely and report if you have any concerns?" I asked, my tone firm but kind.

She nodded her head briskly. "Yes, of course, m'lord. Bella's my friend, and I've been worried about her . . . we all have. Thank you so much for rescuing her."

The girl's words ran together in her nervousness, and I hid a smile behind my hand.

"Thank you, Angela. I have complete confidence in you," I assured her.

She stumbled a second curtsey before scurrying to sit beside Bella, fussing with the blanket and taking one of Bella's pale, limp hands between her own.

After one last look at where Bella lay, so small and quiet beneath the coarse grey blanket, I turned and left. I was satisfied I had done all I could but dissatisfied in ways I preferred not to examine.

~I~

Oh, I wish I'd fought harder to keep these in the published version! I'm not sure how to add them back in. Maybe just at the end of the relevant chapter with a note like at the top of this chapter, so readers get that it's an addition? Would that be too weird? We do all sorts of things in fanfic that aren't 'done' in publishing (LOL! ... a bit like Bella's behaviour in this story!), but I think a lot of them are great and inventive and make for more exciting and interactive storytelling. :)

Your support is always appreciated and any suggestions are welcom.

xx Elise