Hello everyone, I just want to say a few things. One: I apologise for any inaccurate language in accord with the time period of this story. Two: The progress of updating this may be slow, but it will be done as soon as possible. And three (as I can't remember anything else I was going to say): I hope you enjoy this story. Thank you!

Life is but a dream

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stre-"

Emmett broke me off mid-song, "can you singing something else?" He laughed, "you have been singing the same song for ten minutes now."

I smiled at him; he was on his hands and knees too. "I'm distracting myself." We've been scrubbing the already sparkling floor in the entry of the Hale mansion for almost an hour now and we weren't even half way through the huge room. When anyone stepped into the Hale mansion they couldn't hold back their surprise. The room that welcomed them, behind the extravagant wooden door, was large enough to have two staircases on either side of the room leading to the second floor and everything within the room complimented each other due to its similar shades of cream and mahogany red-brown wood. It screamed class, sophistication and wealthy living- all the things I was not. As was Emmett. He is new working here; he arrived seven months ago and was so shy he wouldn't say a word. It wasn't until I knew him well enough that he opened up to me and explained that he was brought to work at the Hale household as his parents had died in an animal attack. He was also employed because of tall and muscular figure and proposed he had the best hope of cleaning the chimneys and fireplaces. Primarily he cleaned what he was told to, but he was also stationed to help clean with me from time to time. It was a good day when we were made to clean with each other. He was the first friend I'd ever had. Like him, I come from a poor background; I've lived in an orphanage for a minority of my life until I lived on the streets. The kind old women, the original owner of this house, welcomed me in as a worker. However she died a year ago. I grew up without parents, but she felt the most like a motherly figure then any over person I've met. I cried when she passed.

"Isabella? Are you lost in your infinite mind again?" Emmett teased, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I scowled at him playfully, he knew I hated being called by my full name-for I never knew my last name- "Will you sing a song with me?"

He looked at me sideways as if I was a crazy person he wanted to avoid and then went back to scrubbing, his huge muscles were tensed. "Alright," he agreed and I knew it was only because I asked, "but something other than 'row, row, row your boat'. Why do you care for that song so much anyway?"

"I used to sing it to myself," I told him as I scrubbed mercilessly at a stubborn footprint on the floor. "Whenever I got scared or lonely, it was oddly comforting."

He thought about that as our conversation fell into silence.

"Do you know what my mother used to sing to me?" he asked rhetorically. "Dickory, dickory dock, the mouse rang up the clock. The clock struck one, the mouse ran down, dickory, dickory dock." He was smiling at some old memory in his head, but when he met my blank expression he frowned. "Don't you know that one?"

I shook my head.

"Huh. What about this one? It's my favourite. Goosie, goosie gander, wither shall I wander? Upstairs, downstairs, in my lady's chamber; There I met an old man, who would not say his prayers; so I took him by the left leg, and threw him down the stairs."

I laughed, only because I knew which part specifically made it his favourite. "No," I said, still shaking with laughter, "I don't know that one either."

"Then you must know 'twinkle, twinkle little star'?"

I nodded, "I do."

"Well then," he said.

Then we sang together as we worked, "twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the-".

We were cut off by the sound of a big door swinging open. A gush of wind blew loose strands of my hair in my eyes as Rosalie Hale glided through the front door, which was held open by a servant boy. She paid him no notice and he was forcing himself not to look upon for too long. Of course she was beautiful, more than I wanted to admit. Her luscious blonde hair, that was visible under her large white hat, was pulled up on her head in an intricate knot, with dazzling pins holding it in place. Her long, expensive dress was white and light blue. I painfully looked at my tattered and filthy black and white uniform in contrast. I mentally winced.

"Singing, were we?" Rosalie's voice sliced the silence like a blade. Emmett and I knew her mean spirit too well, "You are not here to sing, you are here to work," she said scornfully but etiquette at the same time. She smiled suddenly, but her eyes remained vicious, "And to make me more attractive in comparison," she added as an afterthought.

I flicked a quick glance at Emmett, his head was down like mine and I saw his eyebrows twitch.

"Do not push your luck," She said finally before waltzing away smoothly.

I didn't lift my head until she was out of sight and I didn't look at Emmett again, nor did he look at me. We both kept our eyes down, our lips shut and our hands moving in a rhythmic pace.

It was another dreary hour for us to finish the wooden floor, though I still didn't understand the purpose of cleaning it when it was already so clean. No matter, the wood panels gleamed now and I was soon after given my next task- a task that had me repressing the urge to shiver.

I was to tidy Rosalie's bedroom.

I made a face to myself when I was alone in Rosalie's room; it was just like her appearance today. The walls were light blue, the colour of a clear sky, and had a floral pattern on them. I remade her bed, which was also blue and trimmed with white silk. I replaced the logs on her own personal fireplace, carved from white stone, with new cherry logs. Rosalie asks for them specifically and I can understand why, they smell like blooming flowers in spring.

I dusted the surfaces and furniture and gathered as much dirt and dust from the floor with a brush. I was finishing off, fluffing her pillows, when she entered the room.

"Why are you in my room?" She wasn't curious, or confused, but purely furious.

"I was given orders to prepare your room, Madame" the words burnt my throat on the way out.

It was then that I realised she wasn't alone. When the young man stepped out from behind her I relaxed minuscule-ly. Jasper Hale used to be every bit as scornful as Rosalie, until he found love within his suitor, Alice Cullen duchess of Northumberland. Now he was the kindest of the Hales, though even he didn't pay me much attention. That would be crazy.

"Leave the work staff be, Rosalie," he said to her disapprovingly.

I was staring at the floor and not making eye contact as I'd been told to multiple times, when I saw in my peripheral vision that Rosalie's face changed from hatred to irritation. "You used to torment them with me, brother, until you met Alice. So don't preach high and mighty to me."

"Well..." he said slowly and quietly, as if he was hiding something. "We'll see if your perspective soon changes too..."

Rosalie face changed again, to confusion now, "What are you going on abo-stop touching my pillows with your filthy hands." I had continued fluffing her pillows again, but drop them back on the bed and hurried to gather my cleaning supplies.

"Rose," Jasper retorted, frowning lightly.

I waited for a second to see if there was anything else I could do for them.

"That's all," Rosalie said, her words clipped but I could hear her trying to sound indifferent. "You may leave now."

I curtsied slightly and swiftly left the room without a single word or sound.

I made my way straight to the kitchen where the cook was busy preparing supper. The kitchen was oblong and decked with wooden shelves that displayed the multiple brass cooking equipment. I could see as I walked passed that the larder was fully stocked, after the morning delivery, with fresh pro-duce. When the brilliant, noon sunshine streamed through the windows the rays reflected off the brass and copper, filling the room with a warm, golden hue; along with the hearty smell of the fresh food brought to the boil the room was mildly comforting and homely.

Emmett was nowhere to be seen and before I could even think of looking for him a panicked and heavily stressed lower ranked servant darted in front of me. Her eyes were wide and she struggled with the pile of fresh towels she held in the crook of her arms. A look of hesitation flickered across her face before she shook it off, "The Housekeeper is looking for you," and with that she ran out of the kitchen as quickly as she had appeared.

I looked after her in bewilderment before trailing after her. When I first met the housekeeper, I had imagined him as a snobby man who was delighted with his higher powered position amongst the staff; I was completely wrong. He was actually down to earth and really considerate of my situation and position, as I was twelve at the time and was the Hale's scullery maid. Everyone had a name for the scullery maid- they called me 'tweeny' until I outgrew my position and was replaced. As soon as I found the housekeeper, he informed me of my jobs for the day, which basically entailed organising all of the other bedrooms in the house. He also told me that the Hale family were expecting quests too, so their rooms needed extra attention and care.

It was dark outside when I was finished all of the bedrooms. I dawdled to return my cleaning equipment before heading to the attic as there was nothing else for me to do but go to bed and sleep. When I entered the attic I saw Emmett turning the handle of his bedroom. He looked up when he heard me approach. "Hello," he said in a drowsy voice.

"Wow, you're tired."

"Yeah, Rosalie made me clean her fireplace until it was 'clean enough to tolerate'" he laughed, too sleepy to continue. He went to lean against the wall and misread the distance. I caught him before he could fall over.

"Whoa, careful. Go and get some rest, Em. I'll see you in the morning," I said, leading him into his bedroom. I let go of his arm when he flopped onto his bed, the springs groaned under the weight.

"'Night," he mumbled into his pillow.

"Goodnight, Emmett," I called behind me as I left for my room.

Our servant rooms were nothing next to the immaculate rooms we were surrounded by everyday; however, they were better than the cold, dark streets which I knew well. The only furnishings my room had was a simple bed, with thin sheets for covers, a box of my clothes and a rickety table that supported a single, half melted candle. The walls used to be green, as defiant shreds of wallpaper still rebelliously hung to the walls. Warn out over the years, the walls were now grey, more so than any over colour.

I dressed quickly and climbed, sluggishly, on to the uncomfortable bed and under the sheet that tickled my skin. The long day I had endured made falling asleep much easier than usual. My eyelids began to droop and it felt like seconds after that I fell into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

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