Mortal Intrigue
A fanfiction by Spiritusancti
Hello!! This is my fourth story for Twilight Fanfiction. I am currently writing 'Redemption of a Soul' and due to too many personal things happening, that story has been put on hold. I am writing this story to help some writers block. I'm excited about this one…enjoy!
Disclaimer: Don't own it!!! Only original characters!
In 1903, Miss Isabella Swan is sent to Olympic Private Academy in Chicago following the mysterious death of her mother. Now forced to socialize and prove herself worthy among Washington's most high society, Bella begins to understand that mystery follows her everywhere.
This is in Bella's point of view.
Chapter one: Unwanted
Thump-thump, trot-trot, thump, trot, thump-thump. The uneven pounding of horse hooves on soggy ground competes with the beating of my heart, and with the pounding of my head if you want to go into details. The four day train ride from Seattle could not have helped with that. Thank goodness it is late at night; otherwise I'd be complaining about the garish sun.
"Not much further, Miss Swan", the driver says from atop the carriage.
"Thank you", I reply as polite as I can manage. I am still surprised and a tad irritated that my father himself did not meet me at the train station. I'm supposed to be a proper young woman now and traveling without a chaperone isn't becoming.
I received the note dictating my future three weeks ago – exactly six days after my life changed.
'Dearest Isabella,
I was so very sorry to hear about your mother. It was all so sudden and it must have been terrible for you. Your father and I also wanted to apologize about our absence at the funeral. We didn't want to turn any heads our way, so to speak. You understand I'm sure. Your father is well and keeping himself very busy. The Chief of Police in Chicago never sleeps I'm told. Due to this untimely business, you'll be coming east and staying with us. We are your legal guardians now, and none too late. It's time you receive a proper education. You'll take the train ticket enclosed and come to Chicago, get on our carriage and straight away you'll go to the very prestigious Olympic Private Academy. There are many girls and boys of your age studying there and thanks to our social connections, you will be joining them in all sorts of subjects. Mind your manners, remember your last name. It carries more importance in Chicago than you know. This may seem sudden, but you'll thank me later when you're married to a wealthy man. Bear in mind your future.
With love, Your Grandmother Swan'
My mother, Renee, died three weeks and six days ago. Phil, my mother's best friend and true love, found her in the woods beyond our farm house in Seattle, Washington. I only saw her through the closing door – she looked so small, she had a small scarlet wound on her neck and her skin was whiter than the sheet that the doctor was pulling over her face. Phil shut the door before I could touch her one last time.
The doctor had no answers and Phil couldn't keep his eyes dry long enough to look at me. The only word anyone would mutter was 'mysterious'.
Renee was a free spirit and 'mysterious' fit her. Her eyes always held a secret that she always shared with me. When I was an infant, she left my father in Chicago and went to be with Phil in Seattle. The whole of Chicago was under the impression she'd left with me to aid perpetual health problems. Reputation is an important thing I am told.
My eyes mist up in response to thinking of my mother. She was so unconventional. I never knew the constriction of a corset until last week. Nor was I aware the reputation of an entire family rests upon their teenage daughters' shoulders. My mother told me horror stories of her upbringing. She'd attended Olympic in her days and met my father there. Don't get me wrong, my father Charlie is a great man, but he had no empathy for my mother and her true love Phil. No one did. So she did the unthinkable, she left. I think she's brave, my Grandmother thinks she's foolish.
The abrupt stop pulls me from my thoughts. I'm here, let the torture begin.
"Welcome to Olympic Private Academy, Miss Swan!" An ethereal voice finds its way to me as I'm being helped from the carriage. My head snaps up to see an older woman, maybe ten years older than my mother. She wears a dark gray wool dress lined with lace at her neck, and her hair piled atop her head makes her the vision of a Gibson Girl, "I am happy to greet you, although it is past my bed time. I am Mrs. Evelyn Knight, the headmistress of Olympic Private."
"I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Knight", I reply, gingerly shaking her hand.
"Virginia, her trunks", a slim woman steps from behind a shadow and grasps my two large trunks as if they're feathers and heaves them off; "Follow me, Miss Swan".
I follow her through an iron gate and onto to vast grounds of Olympic Private. "You will get a full and proper tour tomorrow", she notices me eyeing the fields.
It is huge. The school itself is gargantuan, all made of brick with ancient ivy growing up its walls, reaching for the black sky. Surrounding the building is nothing but rolling hills. To the right among some trees is a chapel. I can't see much else, but I already see myself running through the woods to remind me of home.
Through an extravagant foyer lit dimly by lamps, I follow Mrs. Knight to the bottom of imposing-looking stairs.
"Your room is two flights up, on the third floor and down the left hall at the last door. You'll find it. My chambers are on the opposite side of the academy, I'm sure you understand if I don't accompany you?" She eyes me; is she jesting? In this darkness, I would fall all over myself – I nod my head once. "Good, I appreciate that Miss Swan. Your roommate, Miss Angela Webber is away right now – her mother had another baby, she'll return within a few days. Your school dresses and boots are in the closet waiting for you. It's often rainy and foggy here in the country, so you also have a cape. It being fall, I will tell you that you will need it everyday. Breakfast is at 8:30 am tomorrow and your classes are after. Here's a candle to help you to your room." She hands me a pathetic candle and without taking a breath, and goes on, "You will do well here. I remember your father. Goodnight, Miss Swan".
"Goodnight, Mrs. Knight. Thank you for your hospitality", I say a bit weakly; too much information for my head to absorb at this hour. She nods slightly and walks briskly down the hall. I cannot believe she doesn't require a candle.
I am a bit afraid of the dark. It wasn't always that way, but after my mother…
I take a deep breath and begin up the stairs. They are big and chunky wood of a dark color and smooth finish. The steps are worn down in the middle, evidence of time and wear. I wonder if my mother ran up and down these very stairs.
I come to the first landing and find I can't look out into the black halls, so I turn and just keep going. A little winded, I come to the second landing and turn left. I simply can't see anything. My ears strain a bit to hear, but they come up empty. I feel alone, but I cannot explain why I feel as if I'm being watched.
I cup my hand around the candle and walk forward. WHOOP! My toe drags a corner of an area rug and I almost set myself on fire, I push the candle out of my hands and I catch myself on an end table nearby; the candle snuffs out as it hits the ground.
Darkness, blast.
I right myself and pick up the candle from the ground. I start to walk forward when I hear a small bell of a giggle. A chill runs through me. My imagination is getting the best of me. Regardless, I sprint down the hall, hoping I'm not waking anyone and dash into the last room in the hall and shut the door.
Breathing heavily, I turn the small knob on the wall and the humble lamps come to life, illuminating my room.
It's of a good size. Two beds are on opposite sides of the wall, each with an armoire facing it; a makeup desk and mirror are between the two beds. My trunks are beside the bed on the left, next to the large window.
Quickly I change and get into the cold, lumpy bed. What a change from a few short months ago. My mother and I would be preparing apple pies; we had the best apple orchards in Washington; in October, we would try and grow pumpkins, but we always failed and Phil would laugh at us; Thanksgiving and Christmas will never be the same.
I will never be the same, everything's changed... and I took it for granted. Before I can stop them, tears are softly rolling down my cheek and my eyes grow heavier.
Light streams through my window much too soon. I roll over and see a very gray day. If I squint, I could fool myself into thinking my mother will come get me for breakfast – it looks so much like Seattle outside, if not drearier.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I push myself towards the dresser. Inside I find numerous choices of apparel. Fortunately for me, not all are humiliating. Mostly crimson, navy and evergreen indicate these must be the school colors. The cape, made of nice wool, is a charcoal black.
I decide on a navy frock. It's a soft material and I rather like it. The neckline swoops right around my collar bone and navy embroidery dances a circle around my waist, the fabric falls straight to my ankles and to my wrists, with the tips of my black boots peeping out.
I take a deep breath, and open my door and meet the sight of many girls milling about, making a current toward the stair case. They walk in twos, threes, and fours; with arms linked and smiles all around. The few that emerge as I do immediately look at me and go back to their friends. I expected this.
I stand in front of my door, fiddling with a loose string on my dress as the girls' voices travel down the stairs; I make a project of patting my hair, secured by a barrette, half up and down, while waiting to walk down by myself. I begin to walk when I catch my feet; there are two girls walking slowly, and speaking quietly. One is short and thin with beautiful black hair pinned behind her ears, wearing deep green; the other is tall and flawless with long blonde hair, perfectly curled in every place, she's wearing crimson. Their skin in possibly whiter than mine, and unblemished. The short one quickly grabs the others' hand and they become silent as they retreat from my view. Before they disappear, the short girl throws me a piercing glance with startling amber eyes. I pause again, waiting for the sound of their feet disappearing before I make my way down to the eating hall.
I'm not sure why I dislike being the center of attention. If I was any normal girl, I would bask in the spotlight of being the new girl – it would give one so many chances to be seen as confident and special; someone to marry and someone to be considered competition. These schools are breeding grounds for society's future important and in-vogue people. My mother was one of them, I'll never be. If I have one wish for today, it would be to blend in and be unnoticeable.
I make my way down the stairs without falling and I follow some other stragglers through a doorway into a large, ornate room, warm from the large fireplace. Plates are already out on the tables with large helpings of eggs, bacon and toast. I notice that tables are lined by students of similar age and I make my way through to the second to last group of tables – the junior level. Boys and girls are sitting everywhere on a number of tables. My attention is caught by a waving hand.
A girl with soft brown hair is waving at me. I look at her and point to myself. She laughs and nods her head.
"Hello! You must be Isabella Swan", she says, "I'm Angela Webber, your roommate. I just came back this morning".
"Hello Angela, it's nice to meet you", I reply.
"Oh, I am so happy to finally have a roommate! I knew it was you the minute you walked in – we haven't had any new students in forever!" She smiles with her kind eyes, she looks like someone I can trust, "let me introduce you to my friends: this is Miss Jessica Stanley, Mr. Benjamin Chapman and Mr. Mike Newton". She gestures to the others sitting beside her.
"Hello Isabella", they say.
"Oh – Bella, you can call me Bella", I correct them. Jessica's smile doesn't reach her entire face; she looks me up and down. I recognize her last name – Stanley, friends of my father's, I know she's wealthy. Mike Newton's name I recognize as well. His father knows my father. I think I met him once when I was little on one of my summer visits to Chicago. The other boy, Benjamin, I don't know. He keeps looking at Angela and smiling. Boy, is he making his affections obvious.
Jessica pats the empty chair next to her and I move to sit down. The conversation starts up again where it left off. Jessica turns to me.
"So, you came from Seattle?" she says.
"Yes, I did. My mother lived there".
"That's right, my mother told me that when we'd heard about her passing. I'm so sorry. Cholera, wasn't it?" she quietly says.
My insides squish at my Grandmother's social lie, "yes. It was sudden". I am not used to discussing such things, are all people so evasive?
"Gosh, such sadness. I'm sure you'll be fine here." She looks me up and down quickly again.
Nervous at being so obviously critiqued, I stare down at my food, "what courses are offered here?"
Jessica immediately rambles on about art and pottery, French and piano lessons, social etiquette and dancing. I look around the room. It is enormous with beautiful crown molding all around the ceiling, and large paintings spread across the walls. Numerous large windows line the back wall, exposing the misty green surrounding grounds. The three double doors leading into the grand room are tall and decorated with wood carvings.
My eyes scan the students and land on the two girls who were whispering to each other on the stair case; the black haired one and the blonde.
They are both insanely beautiful with porcelain skin and perfect features. Next to the black haired one is a sandy blonde boy; he is gazing intently at her, but not talking. Holding the blonde's hand is a large boy with short dark hair and a big smile, he's talking softly to her and whatever he's saying is making her laugh. There is one last boy, medium build and wearing the standard male uniform - charcoal colored, fitted three-piece suit and tie - with dark copper colored hair and the same white skin.
He is gazing intensely right at me, my eyes drop at once and I feel my skin grow hot.
"Why are you red?" Jessica's voice pierces through my ears.
I shake my head and look at her.
"Don't look now, but there are two girls and three boys over – three tables away. They're not eating. Who are they?" I ask, trying not to look again.
Jessica's a professional at gossiping – she manages a natural glance over to them and looks at me, "That's Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family."
"The two girls I saw this morning before coming down – they were whispering to each other". I say, hoping I am not coming across as a chatter-box.
Jessica's eyes sparkle, "They're always doing that. It's no wonder though – at the end of the school year, they'll be sister-in-laws". My brow furrows, "The tall blonde, Rosalie Hale is engaged to the big brunette guy, Emmett Cullen – they are to marry in June. The short, dark haired girl, Alice Cullen is Emmett's sister and is engaged to the boy she's next to, Jasper Hale, who is Rosalie's brother. Jasper and Alice are our age; Rosalie and Emmett are in their final year above us. The other one", my ears perk up, "is Edward Cullen – brother of Emmett and twin of Alice. Apparently Dr. Cullen and his wife adopted all of them".
"All of them? How nice they got to stay together". I whisper.
"It's remarkable. Emmett, Alice and Edward were adopted first at a young age, and then a few years after that Rosalie and Jasper were added. That was before they came to Chicago though." Jessica says this in one breath.
"So everyone here at school live primarily in Chicago?" I ask.
"Oh yes, mostly. We can never escape one another – from all the instruction here to all the holiday balls at home – we are always in the same social circle", she laughs.
"What about Dr. Cullen and his family? Where do they live?" I manage to look up at the table once again to find the Edward looking nonchalantly at the table.
"They live in the city in a large, beautiful house not far from the hospital. Mrs. Cullen has quite the decorative flair I've heard. They host an exclusive charity ball at Christmas time and all the most important people are there." I feel her gaze on me, "are you making eyes at Edward?"
Suddenly Edward's eyes snap to mine and I look down, "No."
I feel her smugness from here, "Well, don't bother. Apparently no young lady here is able to catch his attention. He's incredibly mysterious."
There is that word again – it is over-used. I wonder how many times Jessica's dancing card has been void of Mr. Edward Cullen's signature.
Suddenly, students begin to stand and leave the room.
"Oh, time to go. Let's go to our first class", Angela announces.
"Where do we go?" I say.
"Follow us; we are going to home room: Social Dancing. Mindless, I know, but it's necessary. We'll all be in the same classes together – every level has the same classes together." Jessica answers me.
I follow them out into the big hall and down to another room with large wooden double doors.
"This is where we have all of our events: family functions, holiday feasts and balls", Jessica says proudly as we enter the giant room.
I believe this room is larger than the eating hall. Three large chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, which had many gold inlays in the molding. Paintings line the walls – all of nature and Greek gods; romantic themes. On the inside of the doors are wreaths of gold and scarlet and orange – signaling fall.
"Wow", I say to Angela.
"I know, it's wonderful, isn't it?" She's beaming, and glances over to Benjamin Chapman, "We have our first ball – the Inaugural Ball – in a month. I have a new dress, and I am so excited to see who may escort me!" I smile at her.
Jessica leans in, "you do know you make your affections so obvious?"
Angela lightly hits Jessica on her arm and scoffs. Jessica rolls her eyes at me.
A clap signals the students in my level to stop chattering. A lithe woman of about sixty stands in the front of the large room. She wears a similar gray, high-necked dress as Mrs. Knight last evening.
"Good morning students. As you know, the Inaugural Ball is upon us. This is a student and parent function, so we all are going to learn to lead and follow as usual so you don't look like fool in front of Chicago's society. This is a continuation of last year's instruction, so I hope you all remember what we've done. I would like to introduce our new student", my stomach dropped, "Miss Isabella Swan. Come up here, dear."
I walk slowly up to the front of the class.
My teacher goes on to the rest of the class, "please make Miss Swan feel comfortable and welcome as you have done others in the past. You know who your partners are, get oriented and we will begin shortly." She turns to me, "Welcome, darling, my name is Mrs. Westley, and I'll be your teacher. I need you to do something, take this", she hands me a piece of paper, "make sure you get all of your instructors to sign it and give it to me at the end of your day. We keep it on file; it's just for our use. Would you be so kind?"
"Of course, Mrs. Westley", I reply.
She smiles, "Wonderful. I trust you know some dancing?" I nod, she smiles and gestures behind me, "Here is your partner, Mr. Edward Cullen. Go on, and we'll begin shortly."
My heart begins to beat frantically as soon as I hear his name. I turn around and there he is, standing fifteen feet away from me, looking out the window. His sister Alice and her fiancé Jasper are standing together near Edward, looking at each other.
Suddenly, a piano begins and pairs are dancing with one another in perfect sync. I hurry along to get to Edward, on my way, I see Jessica dancing with Mike – she throws me a maniacal grin. I cringe inwardly and lose my step. I prepare to go to the ground and be embarrassed forever, but I am still on my feet; pressure once around my arms is released, and I open my eyes. Edward Cullen stands before me, staring at me with unusually fierce black eyes.
"Oh, excuse me. Thank you… I – ", I'm stuttering and I need to stop, "Thank you." I smile timidly.
"Of course", the words are out of his mouth before I can see his perfect lips move. He appears to be agitated; his brow is slightly creased and his shoulders stiff.
I stand awkwardly near him, wondering if I should reach out for him, or waiting for him to reach for me to dance, but he makes no move; neither do I. He won't even look at me. Am I that repulsive?
The music keeps beating out a delicate rhythm. Will we just stand here, not dancing for the entire hour? I do not want to be called out in front of the class for not dancing. I don't want to be labeled as untouchable.
Swiftly, pair of strong arms circle my waist, and I am lifted; instinctively, my arms grab onto what's holding me: Edward Cullen. He has a look of intense concentration, and I can feel that he's not breathing. I am able to keep up with him now, the piano filling my ears and Edward filling the rest of my senses. My arms are around his shoulders, I am so close, and I can see the muscles in his neck jumping around. Is that a response to me? Is he touching me when his body doesn't want him to? A change in the music makes me lean in closer to him so I won't fall over.
I take a deep breath in and my eyes roll, he smells heavenly. Unconsciously, my fingers tighten around his shoulders and my heart beat competes with that of a humming bird's. Edward leans back away from me, I look at him – his eyes are on me and I am hit with a wave of terror. He looks as if he could kill me right at this moment. My grip on him closes tighter, but he doesn't flinch. The music reaches a crescendo, and he twirls me and brings me close to him. As the piano ends on it's final note, his hands clench to fists behind my back and he closes his eyes once again. I swear, he hasn't taken a breath once this entire time.
Pairs begin to break apart and make a line towards the doorway, immediately, he lets go of me and walks away from me quickly.
I am nothing short of stunned. Along with a leaking fear, my body is buzzing. He felt so good to touch; it felt amazing to be touched by him – like pure electricity. I wonder if he felt anything at all himself. I look to him as he leaves the room, practically pushing other students out of the way. Just at the doorway, Jasper and Alice are leaving – they both throw me weary glances before dashing out of the door themselves.
The rest of the day should be interesting.
I will most likely be posting again tonight or tomorrow! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!!!!