Alice lived a very singular existence. She slept in the little room above the gown-and-fitting shop she worked at; her employer, Mrs. Webber, gave her a neat wage and marvelled at her excellently tiny stitch work. She could use the materials from the shop to make her own clothes too, and recently a woman admired the embroidered flowers on Alice's pinafore, and requested that similar ones to added to the bodice of a dress she was altering.
Alice was able to live a simple life, speaking with the customers, and Mrs Webber and her daughter Angela, and no one was any the wiser that her strangely cropped hair wasn't from an embarrassing lice incident, as she claimed, but a mental asylum.
They would never find her, not after her saviour allowed her to escape; she was never going back. She heard footsteps at the door and shook her head of those awful thoughts.
Plus, today was a big, big day. Today the advertisement would come to her, and she would start on the path to the rest of her life. She had seen it in her dream last night; and she knew which type of dreams come true.
Two young women were giggling as they admired the different long, white gowns in the shop window. Alice looked at them enviously; taller than her and looking much more grown up for it. When they came into the shop, she perked up and put on a smile.
"Welcome, ladies!" She chirps, bustling after them on her shorter legs. "I believe you had an eye for our bridal options?" She prompted. Even saying the word bridal sounded strange in her mouth; but sent a girlish thrill through her. Being a bride sounded so mature and glamourous; she was ecstatic for every bride she dressed.
One of the girls smiles, and her whole face seemed to glow with happiness. "Yes, we're both recently engaged. My ceremony is planned for summer," she squeezes her friends arm, "and Kathleen's for fall. What veils do you have on offer?" She asks.
"I'll take you to them now," Alice skips over to the counter with the fixed headpieces and waits as they coo over the choices. She felt a real stab of envy as they clutched at each other and laughed. She wanted a friend, too! Angela was a lovely girl, but she lived with her mother quite a way from the shop and had frequent social engagements.
Alice tuned back into the conversation when it seemed the veils no longer held the girls' interest. "Oh, Samantha, did you see the paper?" Kathleen squealed. "That funny little advertisement!" Alice's heart jumped to her throat, and she studiously avoided reacting too obviously.
"Auditioning for brides?" Samantha agreed, "How ridiculous!"
Kathleen glanced at Alice, caught her eye, and grinned. "Oh, let the shop-girl see!" She encouraged, and Alice perked up at her mention. Samantha's handbag was dug around in, and a crumpled piece of paper procured.
Alice had it waved excitedly under her nose. "See here, this Ms Swan? What an outrageous claim!" They both laughed as Alice scanned the words hungrily.
She knew this. The words sprang to her mind fully formed.
One Mrs I Swan seeking wives for the men of Forks, Washington. Serious enquiries only for a meeting at the Wash Bearer's Club Wednesday 18th of this month at 7 pm.
Alice gasped. Tomorrow was Wednesday! "Oh, could you even imagine?" She whispers reverently. She ignores the two girl's strange looks. "May I hold onto this?" She asks.
"… Of course. Um, we'll let you know about the veils." Kathleen said hesitantly, and they made their hasty leave. But Alice wasn't mourning the loss of the sale. No, she had a meeting tomorrow.
00
Rosalie's room was light and airy, decorated in yellows and pinks. She and her mother had poured over swatches and samples for three months to set up her room in their Arizona vacation home. She barely looked up from the comforter as her mother came in, set down her breakfast, and kissed her forehead.
She and Royce were going to spend their honeymoon here ….
Even thinking his name made her feel sick. Her mother had tittered on the phone to all her concerned social circle. 'It's such a shame that he broke the engagement! Now, I don't want you blaming my Rose, she did the best she could!'
Hm, a shame. The way her father screamed at her like anything, the way all their friends had laughed. She woke one morning to her mother packing her bags. Their daughter's virginity wasn't worth upsetting her father's employer, after all.
So, she was shunted to their Arizona summer house with her mother, to 'heal her broken heart', and until she agreed that it was better to say nothing and move on, she was not to come back to New York. Two months of anxious waiting to make certain that she wasn't in the family way. If so, then all was not lost, according to the Hales.
But Rosalie didn't care, she didn't. What use were parties when the last one she went to, ended up with her being ravished by Royce King when she was sleeping? Why should she care what her idiot simpering friends thought, when all they had sent was a joint card?
Her only real friend left, Vera, was the only one who believed her when she said she'd been too drunk to agree to premarital sex. That she had woken up while being violated. It was Vera who admitted that everyone else wrote her off as too impertinent to wait for her wedding. They were all convinced she gave it up too soon, and was dumped for it.
Her mother settled onto the foot of her bed, sighing in a casual way. "Rosalie, dear, why don't we go for a walk?" She asked. Thin, graceful and tall, Rosalie had always looked up to her mother. But one cannot blindly hero-worship forever. "The sun is out," she continued airily, "so you'll have to wear a hat, so as not to get too brown-"
She felt a flash of irritation. The idea of facing the outside world with a pleasant smile sickened her; made her light-headed and shaky. She refused to chalk it up to the baby that might be in her belly
Like she could stand to walk next to her beguiled mother and put on a front. "Enough with your insipid chatter; leave me be." Rosalie snapped.
Her mother stared at her for a long while, her jaw clenched tightly. "… Rosalie, what good would sprouting off that nasty story about Royce prove?" The older woman finally asked, her gaze on the faded, outdated rug. "You were engaged," her mother stressed, "and if you had just waited until your honeymoon-"
Rosalie shot up in bed, "It's not a story!" She shouted, her heart thundering in her chest.
"Enough, Rosalie!" Her mother declared, standing up and towering over her daughter. Looking so much like a withered, gnarled tree. "You're too much a child to understand, but you'll face facts soon enough." She said softly. Rosalie stared at this woman; who hosted parties, raised children, run her own home … who was once the epitome of everything Rosalie wanted to be. Who cowered and shut away her own daughter so as not to cause a stir.
Visibly, the woman relaxed her long limbs, and tried again. "… It's nice to be away from your father and the boys, isn't it? Just us womenfolk." She commented lightly, her voice floating strangely on top of the tension in the room.
"Am I child or a woman?" Rosalie muttered, "Make up your damn mind, but do it outside." She added.
Her mother looked like she wanted to scold her, but thought better of it, and simply left after curtly telling her she would be back for the dishes.
When the door closed, and Rosalie was left on her own, she shoved a hand under her pillow and pulled out the paper from two days ago.
She had to find out where on earth the Wash Bearer's Club was.
00
Esme was tired and frustrated to tears. Her school was being shut down; the donors had backed out, and now her children would be taken to harsher high education, or, as most of them couldn't afford it, the factories.
The headmaster, over-worked and frazzled, admitted this to the staff just this morning. Esme had not been the only one there to shed a tear. She moved from Ohio, her parents disowned her for leaving her husband, even after he died, and eight years later her dream of being a teacher was over.
Esme had thought that after Charles' death, she was free, free to do what she'd always wanted; teach. She had lost their baby, she'd lost her husband, one of them she mourned more than the other. But she'd had her students, her brilliant pupils. Esme was sure that this was healing, her life was getting back on track.
She had no actual qualifications; the principal had seen her zeal for education and genuine commitment and taken her on. It was grueling work; long hours, hardened children and not a lot in way of pay. But Esme had taken each hard day and worked even harder to make the next one better. Some of the children, even most of them, grew a little, or a lot, under her care. She thought she was making a difference.
Now Esme was lost, adrift, bereaved for the bright, young minds about to be turned to dangerous factory work or violence that would strike a child and call it teaching. She had no friends or connections to rely on; she left them all in Columbus, and she wasn't deluded enough to think they'd have her back.
She smooths her hands over the paper, and looks at the employment section, and to the advertisements too. She needed a fresh start, she needed choices. Was she really going to trust this woman to find her a husband, after what the first one did to her?
Thank you for the comments! You'll see what a great orator Bella is soon. The next chapter: what is a Wash Bearer's Club?