1877
English grey skies loomed overhead like a damp blanket begging to be rung out, while the horse drawn carriage rode up the dirt road to the green filled Yorkshire.
Isabella Marie Swan held a book in her hands ignoring the sound of the carriage wheels against the ground and the clapping of the horse climbing up the small hills.
Two brown suitcases laid beside her which held the expected mundane attires, but also her own small collection of books, some of which she attained from the recent passing of her father.
The carriage came to a stop and the coach man climbed down from his post taking off his top hat to open the side door. Isabella closed her book and grabbed her belongings. The air was humid, water beads glittered the grass, not a sun beam in sight. It was England after all. Isabella tried very hard not to cringe. She couldn't blame her aunt and uncle for sending her away. Why hold the burden of their disgraced brother when they could just mail her off to a boarding school in the country?
Bella stepped out of the carriage and onto the gravel with her black laces up boots that reached her ankles, not that you could see them anyway. The recent style in women attire at the moment still held the appropriate dress length of the floor, however unlike the years previous, the backside of the dress was not exceptionally large and did not favor an overgrown camel hump. Instead, the dress started at her shoulders ducking to above her chest and flowed down to the floor, fastened at the waist, slim, and long sleeved. The dress was black, and subtly complimented by eggplant. Isabella never had a liking to… loud… things.
All around her ladies were bidding their goodbyes to their loved ones. A few feet away was an older looking couple, still fairly young, but with a superior air to them, the air that screamed they were looking at you from down their noses. The older women was affectionately- if you could call it that- embracing a young women while the man looked more or less uninterested. The young women stood in the middle of the couple. Isabella couldn't help staring at her. She was almost ridiculously pretty, what her novels word describe as an english rose- silvery fair hair, green eyes, and a spotless creamy complexion. Her violet dress complimented her, however her beauty was spoiled by an unflattering scowl and hardened eyes.
Isabella quickly looked away to her right, there stood the school. It was quite large, made of dark red bricks and white framed windows. It held a strange grey comfort in a non depressing way. This is where I will be for the next ten months.
Bella thanked the coachman, who responded with a nod, and walked forward. She felt incredibly awkward and lost, which was not an uncommon feeling for her. To whom does she talk to? Where was the location of the headmistress? Looking around the brunette frowned. "Hello there," Bella spun around to face a women several inches taller than herself. She had a kind face and a light smile, her carrot colored hair was pulled back in a tight braid falling down her back. "Good day miss," Bella gave a small courtsy. "Good day. I assume you are Miss Swan?" It really came out as more of a statement than a question. "I am Miss. Platt, the headmistress of Witfield Academy for Young Ladies. Would you like to be escorted to your quarters?" Bella nodded eagerly, then blushed for her brashness.
Others were beginning to trickle into the school and carriages were dispatching. "Much obliged Miss." Isabella followed behind her into the school. The walls were dark burgundy, closer to brown, and carpet flooring. Chatter was alive. Isabella looked around curiously. They went up three flights of stairs which had white walls surrounding them with paintings and windows that showed the fields and trees surrounding the school. Bella took note that it had started to rain very hard outside.
Making their way down a corridor on what she assumed was the last floor, ladies fled from room to room but still politely greeted the headmistress as she passed by.
Finally at the end of the corridor they stopped in front of a brown door which had the number eighty-eight on the top. Miss. Platt gave two sharp knocks on the door then turned the handle. The room was brown. Surprising.
A window was at the end of the room showing the forest and two beds were against the wall parallel to each other on both sides of the room. The bed on the right side of the room was occupied with overflowing suitcases, stylish dresses were laid out randomly, varies hats, and shoes on the ground. In the center of it all, was a petite girl holding a book which covered her whole head. She had made no recognition that anyone had entered the room until the headmistress cleared her throat.
The petite girl jumped up in surprise, her book falling to the floor. A small pink tint appeared on her cheeks as she realized that she was not alone. The girl curtsied, "Good Day Miss. Platt," She spoke and then quickly picked up her book, holding it to her chest.
Her voice was soft, high but not childish. She was two or three inches shorter than Isabella; which was short considering the brunettes five foot three inches.
Her eyes were full and a dark brown, close to Bella's chocolate brown, common. Her hair was very dark, reaching just past her shoulders with the front layered to flatter her face.
"Good day Miss. Brandon, I hope your holiday was well. Please meet Miss. Swan, you and her will be sharing this room for the rest of your years at Witfield Academy. Please do welcome her and inform her of the basic rules, the daily schedule will be posted tomorrow morning." Miss. Brandon nodded and Miss. Platt smiled at both of them, giving a small wave farewell and exiting the door with a close but not before sending Miss. Brandon a hesitant glance.
Miss. Brandon smiled nervously wide eyed as the brunette sat down on the neatly spread bed to the left side of the room, placing her two baggages and book next to her.
"Please to make your acquaintance," Bella smiled just as nervously. She was not gifted in socializing with others. Her father used to find it amusing while in truth it was very looked down upon. 'A lady must be the angel of the house.' Her aunt would tell her.
The dark haired girl was still wide eyed, but her smile was not a neutral line. Isabella tried to ignore this. "How do you do?" She tried again, nothing. This girl was quite peculiar. "Excuse me Miss. Bran-" She never finished her question.
"Are you an American? Yes, I can tell by your accent of course I mean it does have a bit of english in it you just d- why I love your hair! It is very pretty you know, compliments your face. Maybe we could teach each other! Oh this will be so much fun!" Now it was Bella's turn to stare wide eyed as she made a stream of words going on and on. Miss. Brandon was now in front of Bella, still holding the book she was reading against her chest, prattling on, "-ever had a room to sha-". Her dress was a yellow and hugged her small frame making her look perhaps taller than her natural height, the sleeves elegantly stopped at her wrist. It was very pretty and very well suited her, loud.
Isabella gaped but then quickly composed herself and started to blink slowly. As if suddenly aware of the brunettes lack in response, Miss. Brandon stopped and then paled, "My apologies," she was pink now. "I have been told before that a cork should find my mouth, but you see I just simply cannot help it!" She started off quiet but then ended on quick giddy note. A bright smile broke out on her face and she sat next to Bella on the left side of the room. "Mary Alice, Mary Alice Brandon. Do call me Alice." Alice introduced and held up her small pale hand. Isabella lifted her own hesitantly,"Isabella Marie Swan. Bella is just fine." Bella's voice was not as cheerful as Miss. Br- Alice's, but her fitting smile never faltered as she shook the hesitant girl's hand.
For someone quite small she had a surprisingly firm grip.
"Bella… such a pretty name! As is the owner of course."