Disclaimer: I don't own it. Edward is simply on loan to me for the duration of this story. A/N: Thought I normally stick to HP stories...I thought I'd try my hand at twilight. I'm not sure if many other stories like this exist on but I sincerely hope this comes off as original. To be honest I love regency romance novels and so does one of my dearest friends (the one who actually introduced me to Twilight in the first place) so I thought it would be rather interesting to combine these two worlds. After all...Edward has always had that old world gentleman thing going for him... This story is AU and all human.
1812 London, England.
"Stop Isabella! Stop this instant! Must you act like such a ruffian, you are a proper young lady, the daughter of a baron; act like it!"
I sighed in pure agitation, suppressing my sudden desire to fidget just to spite my mother but I knew it would only launch her into another fit of nerves, something which I was not prepared to stomach even for the sake of my own comfort.
"Mother." I whispered to the ever so proper Lady Renee Swan, Baroness of Torrington, "these stays are…"
She pursed her lips angrily and I watched, somewhat on edge, as she turned to stare expectantly into my eyes.
"Yes, Isabella Marie?" Her tone did not belie very much patience.
I hated it when she called me that, it made me feel like I was 10 years old again, being caught with my skirts all muddied from playing with Jacob, the steward's son. I had never had an ear blistering worst than that particular occasion. It wasn't that mama looked down on the working class, in fact she quite adored Jacob, but it was the mere fact that my wild, exuberant ways meant that I took after my father more than her, which was a rather detrimental thing in mama's rather skewed eyes.
Her favourite phrase was always 'you are your father's daughter'. She used to say it with such an indulgent fondness when I was child, but nowadays, as I approached the daunting age of 20, it had become a phrase I associated with the tone that bordered on disappointment.
I suppose part of that despair was directed at my father. Theirs was not a marriage of perfect harmony. Mama and papa had married young, he blinded by her beauty and elegance, she by his charm and title. They had started off rather happily, in love as so few of the aristocratic couples were, but the chips in the façade came soon enough.
My birth was the first blow. Not a son, like my father so needed, a male heir on whom the entailed estate, honourable family name and title would pass, but a female child.
Papa loved me none the less, in fact, I'm quite sure papa couldn't have loved me any more even if I did turn out to be a boy. As the years progressed and it became more and more obvious that Lady Swan could bear her husband no more children, papa devoted all his time and energy to raising me.
A fine education my Bella shall have, he would boast.
And I did.
Literature, mathematics, science, music, arts and languages; he even went so far as to teach me to ride astride like a man and shoot as well as any other.
Mama had despaired at this, claimed that Charles Swan was raising his daughter all wrong. They fought about this often; I can still hear their arguments echoing down the gloomy halls of Torrington manor with the howling Yorkshire winds as their symphonic backdrop.
By the time I was 9, Renee Swan had stopped caring; not because she had resigned herself to my upbringing being somewhat unconventional, but because she had taken a lover.
Phillip.
That's all I ever knew of him. Officially, of course. From the servant's gossip, I gathered that he was of the merchant class, younger than my mother, handsome and a man that Renee had loved quite desperately.
Papa knew. He always knew. But Baron Torrington was always too much of a gentle soul to stand in the way of another's happiness, even if it was at his own expense. He turned a blind eye to my mother's sudden glowing happiness, so long as she didn't flaunt the affair, he would ignore it.
It killed a part of him I think. He had loved mama very much despite her shortcomings.
But good things never last; the affair soon became the material for public fodder and gossip and my legitimacy even came into question. Heart broken as she was, Renee had broken ties with Phillip, if only to protect me.
In my younger days, I blamed my parents for this scandal; mama for having the affair and papa for allowing it. I knew that should I ever be presented in society, the question of legitimacy would always haunt my every move in the ton; my character questioned and held to light against my mother's reckless behaviour.
Perhaps that was why my debut in London society had been delayed till now.
Or perhaps, it was because papa had always harboured hopes that I would marry into the Yorkshire landed gentry, if only to spare me the pain that a London season would incur if the hint of scandal still lingered about the Swan family.
"Mama, these stays are uncomfortable! How am I to…?"
Lady Swan cut me off mid-sentence, her glare glacial as she stared me down.
"You are not in Yorkshire anymore; you cannot go about London unbound and defying proper society protocol as your father allowed you to do so at home."
I felt the heat creep along my cheeks even before the colour stained my complexion in the three-paned mirrors.
The junior seamstresses giggled behind their hands but were silenced when mama sent them another chilling glare. She dismissed them with a sweep of her gloved hand and stepped forward, pulling me from the raised podium on which I had been perched for the past two hours.
Her eyes softened; the cornflower blue orbs boring into my own depthless brown eyes.
"I know you would prefer to be wandering your father's library rather than visiting modiste after modiste but it is necessary. You must secure a husband." Renee paused, her smile sad and resigned.
"Your father cannot believe that any man would ever be good enough for you and…and I am quite inclined to agree." I shifted uncomfortably in her arms; mama had always been rather over-emotional. "But your father and I won't live forever and it would be our fondest wish in life to see you happily settled and well cared for…heaven knows you need it."
I felt a chagrined blush stain my cheeks. It was a well known fact back in Yorkshire that I was rather prone to…accidents.
"I know mama…I really will try…" I tried to reassure her; I couldn't help it. I had been doing so since I was a child; Renee had always retained a certain youth-like innocence; where as she would laugh and tease, saying that I was an old soul, wise beyond my years.
But of course Lady Swan paid little notice.
"…for you know that Michael will inherit…"
I groaned silently.
Yes. Cousin Michael, Mr. Mike Newton. I have known him since I was a child. I have disliked him since I was a child.
Papa had brought him to the estate when I was eight years old when it became quite clear that the titles and all it entailed would pass onto papa's cousin's son. Mike, as he preferred to be called, was to be trained to manage the estate and to become a proper member of aristocracy.
It had upset me to no end; at that age I simply could not understand why British law would not allow me to inherit what should have been ancestrally the Swan legacy.
Baron Torrington had laughed quite sedately, casual and uncaring.
Ours is not an old title, my Bella. He had explained; in fact, papa was only the second baron of Torrington, the title having been awarded to my grandfather as a military honour. It matters very little if the title continues on in our family.
What upset me more was that Mr. Newton soon developed an unfettered infatuation with me, something which only seemed to intensify as I aged. There had been countless occasions on which he had insinuated a desire to marry me, a notion that Renee had encouraged initially in the hopes of keeping a Swan in the Torrington blood line, but it soon became clear that I was completely uninterested and mama thought it wise not to push the matter.
This brings me back to my present predicament, husband hunting among the London Ton.
My only expectation for my first season is to establish my position as a wallflower and then promptly deflect any interest directed at me which I expect to be rather simple considering that I was not a beauty, had a rather lacklustre dowry and had no particular important connections to speak of.
Admittedly, I was only here to appease my parents. I have seen their example of marriage and I am less than keen to embark on that particular adventure myself. Once I've had a few unsuccessful seasons, I just know papa would see reason and sign over my 3000 pound dowry for my own personal use.
Then, I could establish a quiet, solitary life in the country. Perhaps a nice cottage, I could plant a small vegetable patch; it certainly would be practical, I could likely afford a maid if I invested well…
"Isabella!"
I snapped to attention, smiling sheepishly as Lady Torrington threw up her hands in a gesture of defeat, promptly ushering several meek seamstresses back into the fitting room.
"What will I do with you, Isabella? No man will want a wife who…"
Renee was ranting again and the seamstresses were giggling.
I ignored them. Now was the time to lament…I had the entire season ahead of me; months of picnics, soirees and balls, endless clumsy curtseys and awkward dances with equally as awkward partners.
The nauseous feeling soon found a permanent home within the pit of my stomach and it had nothing to do with the intent look upon my mother's scheming face.
My stomach was twisting in knots even as my fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides. Being presented at court had no been my idea at all. With my propensity to become completely tangled in my petticoats and landing in an ungraceful heap of muddied skirts, I had not thought being presented to the prince regent to be much of a good idea.
Mama had insisted however.
It was nearing the start of the London season and I needed to be presented at court, mama, having already procured annual vouchers for Almack's had insisted upon it.
It was that…or my own debutante ball. Just the thought of descending down the flight of stairs at our London residence in Berkeley square under the watchful eye of hundreds of unknown guests had given me a jolt of discomfort.
I chose to be presented at court. A wise decision on my part in my opinion. Walking on a flat surface or braving a flight of stairs? Even prinny could not dissuade me from it.
"Have some respect, Isabella! Our Prince Regent is not to be mocked." Lady Isabella Swan hissed, her eyes darting around erratically, eyeing the other debutantes with a critical sweep.
Damn, I winced. I must have spoken my thoughts out loud.
"My apologies mama."
Renee's eyes softened immediately as she grasped my gloved hand.
"Just remember darling, try not to fall over."
I smiled wanly, more a grimace and a bearing of teeth rather than a real smile but Renee seemed satisfied and she released my hand, quickly ushering me into the line of debutantes. I was one of the last in the line I noticed, a meek somewhat washed out girl stood nervously behind me in a pale gown.
"Ugh! Watch your step!" A sharp voice screeched and my eyes widened in horror. Oh no Bella, don't blush, don't blush, don't blush.
I raised my eyes to the girl before me, meeting her overbearing blue gaze and needless to say, I blushed.
"Please excuse me, my lady." I managed to say, the blush burning disconcertingly on my cheeks.
I watched her as I would watch a wild creature, trying not to frown at the furious look in her icy blue eyes. She was a beauty, pale blond hair, bright blue gaze, a tall willowy form that suited the empire waist gowns now in fashion.
She sneered at me slightly and turned away.
Relief swept through me. Thank goodness, I really had no desire for a confrontation in the Prince Regent's sitting rooms. As I straightened my sagging shoulders, a small hand tapped me meekly upon the shoulder.
"I…I would not worry about Lady Mallory, she dislikes everyone she perceives as competition."
"Competition?" I asked, confused. "What competition?"
The girl shook her head slightly, her eyes wide behind her fluttering fan.
"Haven't you heard? The Duke of Aubyn has returned to town, every eligible young lady has set her cap on him! The Mallory family have practically claimed him as their private property! If Lauren does not catch him, then her elder sister Tanya is sure to!"
I shook my head meekly. I had never even heard of this Duke and I was completely certain that one of the Mallory girls was bound to make a fine catch of him, I really saw no point in the hostility.
She smiled complacently and I shifted to look at her and couldn't help but be cheered by the friendly face. We were of a similar height and I felt an instant rapport as her hazel eyes sparkled in the morning light.
"Lady Angela Weber…" The girl bobbed a polite curtsey. "Daughter of the Earl of Asterley." She added as an afterthought.
I clumsily returned the gesture and held out a hand which she took instantly, her grasp warm and gentle.
"I'm Bella Swan."
Angela gave me a surprised look and I instantly realised my mistake. Yet again, I had lapsed into informality and I cleared my throat in embarrassment.
"Lady Swan, daughter of the Baron of Torrington."
Her mouth formed a polite smile as she dropped my hand.
"You may call me Angela if you would allow me to call you Bella." She ventured.
I couldn't help but smile. Perhaps this season would not be such a waste after all. I had no time to reply however as Renee had spotted me facing the wrong direction and quickly prodded me into turning and following the line of retreating debutantes.
Lifting my pale pink silk skirts slightly, I rushed to catch them amid the titters of the watching matrons. From the corner of my eye, I could see Renee lowering her mortified face into her elegantly gloved hands and I felt the beginnings of shame rise in my throat.
Angela was laughing lightly behind me and I resisted the urge to smile too. I knew my presentation would not go off without a hiccup of two, nothing to worry about really.
The prince regent had once been a handsome man; at least, that was what mama told me. I didn't really see anything handsome about the rounded jaw or the somewhat over-prominent nose.
He did have the baby-faced look about him I suppose. He might have been handsome at one point of his life, perhaps when he looked a little less like a beached whale.
Oh dear. That really wasn't terrible Christian of me.
It matters little now. Quite surprisingly, my presentation went without any unfortunate accidents or stumbles. The prince regent gave me a polite but distinctly disinterested smile, his eyes straying to Lauren often enough to cause her to preen, and then…done.
Surprisingly anti-climactical really. I think I rather liked it.
I emerged from the receiving rooms with my cheeks still burning with heat and headed immediately into my mother's open and welcoming arms.
"It went well." I had informed her and Renee had simply embraced me gently and murmured with a gentle assurance.
"Of course it did, my love."
Thinking back now, I cannot begin to fathom what real purpose that served but I am not one to complain. I can only hope that this ball goes as well as my presentation went.
Lord and Lady Goodwin were hosting a small gathering; by ton standards, small meant 200 people rather than 500, and I must say that I'm rather dreading it. To be drifting about a room of so many people of high or higher status with not a familiar soul in sight was never my idea of fun.
Goodness, I wish I was home in Yorkshire, tucked away…
Cousin Mike came to mind.
Alright. Perhaps not Yorkshire…perhaps Oxford instead; Cambridge even. I had always wanted to attend university, an idea which is undoubtedly a result of my rather unconventional upbringing.
"Isabella Marie!"
I flinched. Mother was on the prowl once more. She had spent her seasons as a diamond of the first waters, pursued and coveted by every eligible bachelor with marriage on their minds; she expected me to follow in her footsteps. Needless to say, she was about to be disappointed.
I had never socialised well with the opposite sex. It was rather like a mutual agreement; I took no interest in them, they took no interest in me. Perhaps I did have a little too much of my father in me.
Wrapping a rebellious plain brown curl around my gloved finger, I stared down at the almost Grecian white gown I donned and grimaced. White made me look pale. Not the pleasant sort of pale which all ladies strove to accomplish by keeping out of direct sunlight but the kind of pale that indicated my skin had never seen the light of day. Full stop.
Papa said I was translucent; I'm inclined to agree.
"Bella, my love. Perhaps, you should listen to your mother." Lord Torrington intoned deeply as he rubbed his eyes. "You must marry well."
I reached out and stroked his hand, noting the prominent blue veins which pulsed beneath the skin. He was still strong however; still infused with that innate strength I would forever associate with my father. He wouldn't leave me to the mercies of the world, not even if he had to stave off death itself. In time, he would come to understand that I had no desire to marry and since I had no ancestral legacy to pass on, he would not be too hurt by the lack of grandchildren. I only hoped he would see reason soon, I don't think I could brave more than a year or two of a London season.
"Isabella Marie!"
"I'm listening mama. Really I am." I fixed what I hope was a focused gaze upon Lady Torrington's pacing form.
"Oh?" My mother questioned. "What have I just said?"
I searched my conscious desperately. What had she been saying? Was it something about papa…no surely not?
Renee swan gave an exasperated sigh and threw up her elegantly gloved hands in seeming supplication as if she were asking for mercy from a higher power.
"His Grace, Lord Edward Cullen will be in attendance tonight. His first appearance since he left on his sojourn to the savage lands. You need to be on your best behaviour…"
I protested instantly. There was no way I was going to set my cap on this Edward Cullen, Duke or not.
"Mama! I will not vie for his attention; goodness knows that…"
"I do not expect you to, Isabella." Renee said comfortingly, her pacing ceased mid-stride as she pivoted to move towards me. "I only ask that you not make yourself a fool in the eyes of one of the richest and most powerful men in England."
I did not feel shame as Renee said this, only an intense sort of relief. Thank goodness, I didn't think it was a good idea to flaunt my clumsiness in front of Duke.
"I will give him a very wide berth mama…I swear to you…"
"Good." Renee murmured. "With those rumours about…"
Papa intervened quickly. "Which I am quite sure are not true! Lord Aubyn would never…well, he simply wouldn't. Leave it be, my lady. Do not fill my Bella's sensible mind with fantasy."
Mama's mouth closed with an audible snap and I watched as she pressed her fine lips into firm line. Her eyes flicked to mine quickly and the faint glow of warmth within them reassured me quickly.
"Come my dear." She said with a dismissive chuckle. "Let us be off. There is a very fine line between fashionably late and unforgivably rude."
I didn't understand the distinction but I nodded in agreement regardless. There was no use arguing with mama when it came to issues on propriety and the beau monde. Besides, the point was moot. I intended to spend as little time in this farce of a breeding market as possible. When papa sees reason, then I can happily wash my hands of mama's odd and incomprehensible society etiquette and spend the rest of my seniority in the company of good literature and a homey hearth fire.
Soon enough, our carriage was rolling along the cobbled Mayfair roads, I kept my eyes carefully focused on the passing scenery, my hands lay clenched in my lap to stop mama from noticing the tremor.
I will admit readily enough that I'm not fond of social occasions but what could you really expect of a child raised on those lonely Yorkshire moors?
The roiling movements of the carriage didn't much help the unpleasant sensation simmering in my stomach but I kept a firm grip on the urge to be sick. I'm sure mama wouldn't appreciate me ruining my brand new gown. She, for whatever reason, was insistently fond of the garment.
All too soon, we were pulling up alongside the opulent Goodwin residence. The Mayfair townhouse already seemed to be filled to the brim and spilling over, countless other black carriages, emblazoned with crests and the like already lined the elegant residential square.
Oh dear father in heaven.
I was quite suddenly desperate for my rising nausea to overwhelm me. Perhaps then, mama would permit me to return home and plead my ill disposition with our hosts; one glance at Renee Swan's graceful features dissuaded me of the idea instantly.
"Spine straight Isabella; smile, glide…here, pinch your cheeks my dear, you look pale."
I felt the quick sting in my cheeks and shrugged off Renee's unnecessary gesture. I knew I would light up like a bonfire in mid July as soon as I stepped into the already over-packed room.
The door of the carriage swung open and Lord Swan leapt eagerly from the carriage and held his hand out for mama. He gave me a reassuring wink and reached back into the carriage for me while Renee surreptitiously adjusted her skirts.
With my feet on firm ground, the nausea seemed to subside a little. Only a little though, I still felt those ominous butterflies making a home for themselves in my stomach but at least now I felt a little less wretched.
"Come my dear. Time to present my beautiful daughter to the rest of the world." Charles Swan chuckled quietly. "Well. The world of London society at least. You'll do fine, Bella dear. Remember…we're not expecting you to bring back a prince…a well settled gentleman will do just fine."
I nodded absently just to humour him. Best to let papa hold onto that idea for a little longer; what he didn't know would not harm him. I tightened my grip around his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
Papa returned the gesture in kind and I suddenly felt compelled to honour his wishes if only to please him and mama. As quickly as the thought flashed through my mind, it left. No…papa and mama would deal just fine with the disappointment.
With my arm still tucked in his, papa led me to his circle of middle aged friends and as the names and titles flew past my ears, it happened. I felt it. That strange prickly itch of my scalp under all the artistically arranged curls; it pushed at my consciousness no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
Someone was watching me. I was sure of.
Snapping my fan open as casually as I could, I fanned my already blazing face and made a less than casual sweep of the room with my eyes. I saw nothing at first; just the usual assortment of feathered head pieces and carefully combed hair covering progressively thinning heads.
Upon the second sweep, my eyes were caught. My hands stilled upon the fan, the steady waves of moving air ceasing as my fingers unknowingly tried to snap the stems of the fan.
From the tightness in my chest, I knew I wasn't breathing but I couldn't force my chest to move. Instead, I stared back (in a most unladylike manner as mama would have undoubtedly reprimanded). I should glance away, lower my eyes bashfully and force a light becoming blush to come to my cheeks – one should never stare at a strange gentleman.
That was impractical in more than one way. Firstly, my cheeks were already an unhealthy shade of scarlet and secondly, I couldn't stop staring even if my entire reputation depended upon it.
He had the most beautiful emerald eyes. Like liquid wilderness and unrelenting seas…I reprimanded myself silently. No. Bella. This was imprudent…I really should not…
Of their own accord, my eyes began roaming his features.
He was stoic. That was the only way to describe it. His face was as unsmiling as his eyes. Aquiline nose, slashing cheekbones, high proud forehead and a serious no-nonsense mouth devoid of any source of mirth; regardless, he was a handsome man…
No…
Handsome wasn't quite the right word…he was…
…beautiful…
There was no other word for it. Tall, masculine and…beautiful.
When my eyes wandered back to his, the gentleman had lowered his eyelids so that only a sliver of his irises showed. It must have been a trick of the light, but for a moment I swore I saw a glint of gold.
A closed lace fan slapped him on the arm and he turned his head toward the interruption. The spell was broken and I could breathe again. The tightness lifted from my chest and I pulled in a gasping breath.
Tempted to laugh at my own foolishness, I surveyed his circle of friends. I did not recognise a single one unsurprisingly but just as I was about to turn away, I caught a flash of blond hair.
Lady Lauren Mallory…and beside her…another icily beautiful girl with the same pale blonde hair…most likely her sister Tanya…
As I watched, both leant forward to tap their fans coquettishly against the immaculately tailored sleeve of a black evening jacket…belonging to the gentleman I had been caught staring at.
Gasping at the realisation, I looked up to survey his half turned face again.
Edward Cullen. Duke of Aubyn. Surely it couldn't be.
A/N: There! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! It took me 5 weeks to write because I hadn't quite settled into the first person style. Be that as it may, I hope it turned out all right...tell me what you think.
Always
Twilight to Midnight