Bonjour! A little break from my Real Estate Edward in my other WIP Making a Move. The story is a little different than what I usually write.
I wrote this piece of work for my European history class this last year. We were to look at a picture of an 18th century family and write a story about the characters. I modified it a little for the fanfiction world, so without further ado here's my take on a French Edward ;)
All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight and its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.
I trudged up a flight of marble stairs—my legs weighing me down like lead. A servant girl busy washing the floors was humming a soft tune to herself, oblivious to my presence.
"Stop that annoying sound immediately," I snapped at her. The last thing I needed was a reminder of Emilie.
"Sorry, sir," the girl squeaked, scurrying to the side to let me pass. Her downcast eyes filled me with self-disgust.
"Continue with the good work," I muttered, trying to remedy my harsh words, "but do refrain from singing when I am around." The servant girl nodded vigorously, and I continued up the stairs. Another servant saluted and opened the French doors wide for me. We had so many servants, I lost count. I scantly nodded in his direction as I entered my apartment.
Esme Cullen sat in her rocking chair, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace; she looked up briefly from her knitting project.
"Mother," I exclaimed, surprised to see her, "what has brought you to my humble abode?" As I shrugged out of my coat to hand to another servant, Esme barely cracked a smile.
"We need to talk, son," Esme stated simply.
"Where's Isabella?" I asked, "Did she greet you…"
"Bella greeted me in the most polite and hospitable manner," Esme interrupted, "because she's a wonderful girl. I do hope you will realize that one day."
"A girl, Mother, as you said yourself," I pointed out, running a hand over my face as I sank into a chair across from Esme .
"I know you better than you know yourself," Esme insisted—her eyes burning with maternal righteousness. "You are miserable, my dear Edward!"
"That is true, Mother," I answered warily, "But do tell me why I have the honor of your company this evening."
"Edward, let's talk straight. I'm not growing any younger, and I want grandkids," Esme declared, "Why don't I have any?"
"Mother…" I started, already expecting what was to come next.
"You refuse to give me the one thing I have wanted forever. You are my only child! I went through over a day in labor to give birth to you—to bring my son into this world!—and you refuse to grant me this tiny wish," Esme implored, starting her normal dramatic routine. My mother had been a famous actress in her younger days and never failed to revert to her old tactics when trying to persuade others to accept her ideas.
"I don't love Isabella," I repeated, "and will not, therefore, love the children that come out of this marriage. Why torture them?"
"You don't believe that do you?" Esme cried, hysterically, "Why your father was a fat, old pig but I still had his children. I love my child more than anything else in this world!"
"My children will deserve to be loved. I have no love to give them," I responded, trying to make Esme understand. Esme leaned over and pressed her slightly wrinkled hand over my heart.
"Your children will replenish that love that you have been missing—that you crave!" Esme whispered, "Trust me, Edward"
I laid my head in my hands and slouched deeper into my chair.
"Don't ask of such things from a broken man," I said, my voice cracking. "I don't promise you anything." The sound of Isabella's dainty little footsteps grew louder.
"You must promise me you will try Edward," Esme pleaded while glancing at Isabella's approaching figure, "you must promise me you'll try!" Esme shifted back to her original position and resumed her knitting nonchalantly.
"I hope I am not interrupting anything," Isabella asked politely.
"Of course not, dear," Esme replied, looking at Isabella with fond eyes. "Have a seat next to Edward, darling. He was just telling me about his day at work."
"Esme, I have had the maids fix up the guest room for you, so you are welcome to retire at any time," Isabella offered in that sweet musical voice of hers. "It must have been a long journey to our home."
"That it was, dear. In fact, I think I'll retire now," Esme informed us, standing up. "Edward mentioned that he wanted to talk to you about pressing family matters. I'll leave you to that. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," we echoed. My shrew of a mother walked away, leaving me in a sticky situation.
"How was your day, Edward?" Isabella murmured, "Do you need anything?" Isabella's deep brown eyes stared back into mine.
"No, I just need your ears for a moment," I coughed, wondering how to approach such an awkward topic.
"Something happen, Edward?" Isabella asked worriedly, her demeanor instantly shifting into one of concern. I didn't deserve this woman. After a few moments, I mustered the courage and spilled out my request to her.
"I, uh, would like to start a family with you," I said quickly, watching Isabella's face morph into various emotions until it settled on an emotionless mask.
"So…" I prompted, wanting her answer. The silence was bothering me greatly.
"Edward, my answer right now is no," Isabella trailed, staring at her hands.
"No?" I asked, shocked at her response. I was absolutely sure she would want a family. A woman of Isabella's young age greatly desired a family, no?
"Edward, please do not be hurt by my response," Isabella sighed, nervously twisting her hands. "I want my…our children to be born in a house full of love."
"She has this hold on you, Edward, which you have not overcome. I will not have a family with you until you stop letting her hold you back from your life," Isabella insisted. "To start a family, you must forget Emilie."
Emilie's name still stung—as if someone had plunged a knife into my heart and twisted it.
"Leave me," I shouted, standing up to look down upon Isabella. Her face immediately turned bitter as she sighed.
"But, Edward, you must understand…" Isabella tried, gathering her skirts.
"Now!" I barked between gritted teeth. Isabella stood up with as much dignity as she could muster and began to walk away.
Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of her walk and quickly returned back to me. Shocked senseless, I watched as Isabella ran to me, threw her arms around me and, with tears in her eyes, gently pressed her lips to my cheek.
"Goodnight, Edward," she whispered, caressing my face gently. "Don't stay up too long." I stared at her, dumbfounded at the wonder of the woman that was my wife.
I sat back down, my emotions running high, and stared at the fireplace for hours. When all the servants had returned to their quarters upon my insistence, I put my head in my hands and cried.
~oOo~
Emilie was appointed as the governess of my young cousin Alice when I first met her. In need of a motherly figure, my cousin had come to live with my family in Paris when her mother, my father's sister, tragically died during childbirth. My mother welcomed Alice into our family and soon enough, Alice became the younger sister I had never been blessed with. Esme insisted we both get the best education. I was taught by the renowned Master Henri before I continued my studies at the University.
A governess was appointed for my dear cousin Alice. Twenty-one year old Emilie was two years older than me, but charming nonetheless. She had long blonde hair she effortlessly twisted and pinned on the top of head. Hidden behind her twinkling blue eyes was a passion for learning and a never-ending thirst for her purpose in life. Emilie had a charming smile and a laugh that would make my heart race for miles. Yet, when she sang, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. She wore beautiful crinoline gowns, courtesy of my extremely wealthy family, and lived with my family for naught but two weeks when I decided I was madly in love with her.
I followed Emilie around like an obedient dog, eagerly lapping up any cursory glance or nod she threw my way. My thoughts constantly surrounded her and I was overcome with this infatuation.
One fine day, I decided I wanted to marry her.
I consulted my mother about marrying Emilie. My mother had been looking at prospective marriages for me, insisting that I must marry for economic considerations. Several families I had met at dinner parties eagerly offered their daughters.
Did I fail to mention that I was the heir to the largest, most successful banking family business in all of Europe?
"No, Edward, Emilie is a teacher and belongs to the lower middle class. She will just want to raise her status in society. I do not believe for a minute that she loves you," Esme expressed frankly, after listening to my story. "I understand that you are a young man and may need to blow off some steam. I'm not condoning that type of behavior, but if you must…I read a book by this man named Freud and he said that young children have repressed sexual energy that can be reflected into your actions. Don't go marrying this girl for that reason. The brothel is always open."
My eighty-year-old father spent a lot of his time at the brothel. I rarely saw him at home. I had gone there once or twice in my teenage years, but had stopped upon meeting Emilie.
"Mother!" I shouted, covering my ears for dramatic effect. "Emilie loves me. I love her too, and will marry her! I do not care who you would rather I marry." I stormed out of the room, and refused to talk to my mother. When my family decided to make our annual visit around Europe, traveling to England, Germany, and Italy, I took Emilie aside and proposed to her as we traveled down a boat in Venice.
She agreed to elope with me, and I sent a postcard to my parents telling them that I was getting married. I cut off all communications with the world as the newly coined Mrs. Edward Cullen and I spent a blissful first year of marriage together. I bought her mansions all across Europe and dedicated a private library to her. Emilie spent more time there than she spent with me. We even hobnobbed with some of the finest thinkers of our time.
My father died after the first year of our marriage, and my mother had somehow found a way to communicate this with me. I received a telegram about his death, and knew immediately that I had to return to take care of the finances of our family business. I expected Emilie to cry as I told her I was leaving, but she smiled slightly and told me she would miss me.
I made amends with my mother, but was forced to spend more time with my family to ensure that my cousin Alice would have a dowry, and that my mother lived comfortably. I worked long hours in the office, trying to revamp the family business to make it more appealing than any other bank in Europe. The only time I spent with Emilie was when I came home and took her to dinner parties.
Emilie adored dinner parties. With a sparkle in her eye, she would discuss the latest politics and books with anyone who would listen. I did not care for her reading and always nodded along as she spoke, not even listening to what she said. One night, my friend Louis pulled me aside.
"She is talking of a feminist revolution. Did you know your wife is a leader in the cause?" Louis whispered to me, slipping a pamphlet into my pocket. I read the pamphlet that night, and was shocked to see Emilie's name printed everywhere.
I felt betrayed.
She was using my funds to fight for more rights to use against me! I confronted Emilie one night, and she faced me with anger in her eyes.
"I never loved you Edward. I obviously married you for your money. Now with that money, I can fund this cause that has burned at my heart for all of my life. I have sacrificed love and life to be with you, and I will reap the benefits of it. The feminist revolution will finally take hold in Europe. I have instilled the demand for rights and women like me will finally be free!" Emilie cackled. I grabbed a hold of the woman I had once loved and shook her.
"Emilie! What are you talking about?" I asked her, desperate to hear that she did not mean what she had said.
"I don't love you Edward." Emilie spoke slowly, a cold glare in her eye.
That evening, instead of eating the grand dinner the servants had made, I called a mental hospital and checked my wife in. I employed a full time maid keep an eye on Emilie and report any signs of her return to normal. I eagerly awaited the maid's report every night for three months; for three months, Emilie continued supporting the feminist cause until she took her last breath and for unknown reasons, died at the age of twenty-two.
At the age of twenty, I became a widow.
~oOo~
My mother held her tongue upon hearing the news of disaster in my marriage and Emilie's death. She comforted me as I cried on her shoulder, and kissed my head.
"This too shall pass," she quoted from a book, smiling at me with compassion. "You are my only son, and I only wish the best for you. Let me help you, Edward." I had allowed her to find me a new wife and marry me into an economic marriage to a girl younger than me by four years. I hadn't even known her name when she walked up to the altar, but I could not deny that she was one of the prettiest girls I had ever laid my eyes on.
I kept my distance from my bride, not willing to throw myself into love so blindly, and I knew that she felt hurt. The emotional barriers I set up involved drowning in nonexistent work at the bank and coming home at odd hours.
If I wanted a family however, my wife Isabella was demanding that I open up to love.
And so I did.
~oOo~
I walked quickly up the stairs of the apartment, smiling at the servant girl washing the stairs. I burst into the room, not even waiting for a servant to take my coat. I sprinted to my shocked Isabella who had dropped the pan she was holding, and got down on one knee. I took her daintly little hand and ran my thumb over the silk of her skin.
"Isabella, I want a family with you so badly. But first I want to love you with all my heart. Please, my dear, let us start over." I asked in one breath and looking into her eyes. Isabella's eyes filled with tears as she nodded her head slowly. I kissed her hand deeply. Isabella took a shaky breath and looked at me with watery eyes.
"Finally Edward, you will let me love you," Isabella whispered. "You may need time to heal and fall in love again, but know that my heart has been yours since the day our eyes met."
Her words made that hole in my heart clench and retract.
"You love me?" I choked out, thinking of Emilie's words as she told me love was an unfathomable idea for our marriage.
"With all of my heart, my love," Isabella smiled, sincerity in every word she uttered. I took her beautiful oval face in my hands, and gently stroked her dark brown locks. Her button nose scrunched up in delight, and her high cheekbones spread to reveal a shining smile that made me truly feel as if I was the only man in the world.
"You are so beautiful. How did I get so lucky, Isabella?" I murmured in awe of her pure beauty. She closed her eyes and let her hands wander to my chest.
"I ask myself the same question every day, Edward," she whispered back. Her pale skin turned warm under my touch and I kissed her cheek to watch her face turn a gorgeous shade of pink. I kissed her forehead and felt her pulse quicken.
"Isabella," I groaned. "I am such a monster. Why? Why would you love a man like me?"
"You are not a monster, Edward," Isabella protested. "You are a broken man. The woman before me, your previous wife...why if she was still alive I would personally tell that woman she needed to check herself into a mental institution! You did the right thing." Isabella's pitch grew high and a little dent wormed its way onto her clear, rosy skin. I lifted my thumb and smoothed out the crease, kissing the place to calm her.
"Really? You think that it wasn't me, but..." I asked, pulling away slightly and feeling vulnerable. Isabella's eyes pierced mine with unbelievable honesty and determination.
"It was never you Edward. Never," Isabella reassured me as she pulled me close. I felt the hole in my heart close and hide shamefully. Isabella stood on her tiptoes and kissed my jaw. I pulled her towards me and felt the world shift in my eyes.
Isabella had made me whole again.
~oOo~
Isabella and I started over.
I courted her as a potential suitor and took a break from work. I believe that we both fell in love with each other in ways unimaginable before. Isabella insists that it had always been that way for her from the start. I proposed to her again and we renewed our vows before embarking on our honeymoon.
That honeymoon was the best month of my entire existence.
Isabella Cullen never ceased to amaze me. Her fairy-tale inspiring beauty and sweet, charming personality were killer, and I saw myself constantly guarding her from other men's prying eyes. She laughs off my protectiveness, which I admit can be overbearing at times, and reminds me that our daughters will never get married if I continue that kind of behavior. I couldn't wait to start a family with her, and we had been practicing enough during our honeymoon.
I wanted a family. I wanted a little girl with Isabella's brown locks and her brown eyes-a little reincarnation of my goddess of a wife. She wouldn't get married until she was thirty! Why, she wouldn't leave the house without abundant bodyguards. Isabella wanted a little boy with my bronze mess of hair and green eyes. Boy was she in for trouble with an Edward Jr.!
I watched her as she slept silently on my shoulder as we took the carriage back home to the real world. I was worried that Isabella would finally get a wake-up call as Emilie did and suddenly leave me after I had given my heart to her. Isabella woke up as felt my body tense.
"Edward, are you alright my love?" Isabella murmured, yawning as she rose from her sleepy state.
"Just a little worried about the atmosphere back home, my dear," I replied, smiling at her and trying to set her worries at ease. She hated it when I became insecure and constantly reminded me that she wasn't going to disappear one day.
"Don't worry, Edward. I'll be with you every step of the way." Isabella assured me, squeezing my hand as she smiled shyly at me.
"You will?" I asked, gazing at her with love-struck eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere. I love you," Isabella stated firmly. I looked at her gentle face and pulled her towards me, pressing my lips against hers.
I could never get over the wonder of kissing this woman. Her soft pillows of lips opened up as her tongue darted out to massage the bottom of my lip. I gently bit on her upper lip and she slipped her tongue inside mine and moaned softly at the contact. I pulled her closer to me and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out the love of my life until the end of the journey.
She wasn't going anywhere.
~oOo~
My restless mind settled on my family.
I thought of my finally content mother Esme sitting in her rocking chair, reading one of those trashy periodicals that did nothing but comment on scandalous royal behavior. Yet, she always loved to put those aside to play with the grandchildren she had always wanted.
I thought of my firstborn son, Louis Antoine Cullen, who I had chosen to name after my good friend that had saved me from a loveless marriage. My son Louis had Isabella's dark brown hair and my green eyes and was remarkably charming, able to swindle anything he wanted out of our unsuspecting servants. He was also extremely savvy with numbers, and held the promise as the perfect heir to the Cullen banking business.
Following Louis in fifteen months (I really couldn't wait to have another baby), our twin daughters, Beatrice and Claire. Both girls had their mother's build and beauty except for their blonde hair which Esme suspects was from my father. They danced before they walked and Isabella remodeled one of our rooms into a ballet studio for the girls. A private instructor taught them ballet twice a day and they were graceful, lithe prima ballerinas. The bag I was holding carried new ballet shoes for my darling angels.
Our newest addition to my family, Mason Edmond, my spitting image was naught but two months old, but he had both of his parents wrapped around his finger.
My thoughts finally landed on Isabella, the reason for my existence. Isabella was pregnant with another little girl, and we had already decided upon her name.
Emilie.
My previous wife Emilie had provided the biggest obstacle in my life. But that loveless marriage had made me a stronger and smarter man and led me to Isabella, the love of my life. Emilie was the best mistake I ever made, and this little girl was to be named in honor of her. I thanked the heavens for my Isabella, the beautiful woman that currently stood by my side, her compassionate heart more giving than any other human in the world. She was the perfect wife and the perfect mother.
I sprinted up the stairs, laughing "hello" to the servant girl, and threw open the doors to find my family waiting to welcome me home.
~Fin~
A/N: I hope you enjoyed my first one-shot! Leave me a review as feedback is much appreciated :) Also check out Making a Move, I promised to update soon.
Love you all,
lambtohislion