It was so lovely hearing where everyone is from! I spent ages googling lots of different locations that I would love to visit one day. It's unlikely to happen, but it is nice to dream.

I managed a few replies, but I ran out of time to speak to everyone individually, I'm afraid. Instead, here is a list of our many locations. From the U.S. we have readers from Buffaloy - NY, Central California, Portland - Oregon, Central and South Florida, Minnesota (where they just had 21 inches of snow!), Las Vegas, San Diego, LA - Central, Tinseltown and Malibu, Boston, Cleveland, St Louis, Chicago, New Mexico, New Jersey, Jersey Shore, Sao Paulo, Central Illinois, Pontiac - Michigan, Atlanta, Laguna Beach, Jacksonville (yay for another Twilight location), Orlando, Ohio, Brawley - California, Tupelo - Mississippi, and Nashville. We also have readers from Toronto in Canada, Santiago in Chile, Johannesburg in South Africa, Queensland in Australia, as well as a reader from Nigeria who is now living in London, not to mention a reader whose family are from Iraq, Syria and Saudi Arabia. Quite the multi-cultural bunch!

I've corrected the chapter numbers by combining the short chapters from back at Ch 15 and Ch 16 and changing the numbers of the ones that follow.

xx Elise

~I~

Chapter 21 - Introductions

The following days passed blissfully, as long as Bella kept her mind off thoughts of both the future and the past. It was not as difficult to do as she expected, since living in the present with Edward was preferable to entertaining her many fears and worries. His words had hurt her, though not as much as they might have if her expectations had been fully developed. The hopes he had unwittingly crushed had been tentative at best . . . and it was not as if he had any choice in the matter.

She was taking a risk agreeing to accompany him to London, but it made sense to do so. Bella had no idea how to go about the sale of her mother's pearls, but she assumed the task would be more easily accomplished in London. Meanwhile, she was determined to store up enough memories to last her a lifetime.

Edward did not summon her to his office again but visited her rooms each day, and not always to make love. They talked, read—French poetry on occasion—and laughed a great deal, especially when he was posing for the many sketches she did of him. He insisted on setting up a small studio for her to work in and was thrilled when she gave him the portrait she had done of herself.

"This is wonderful," he said. "An excellent likeness."

Bella smiled, refraining from telling him how many attempts it had taken to achieve one she was satisfied with.

Occasionally, their conversations were more sober in content, in particular when he spoke of his childhood. He did not hide his affection for his sister, Alice, but he spoke of his mother in scathing tones.

"Each evening after supper, our nanny would present us to Mother for a fifteen-minute visit, timed to the second."

Bella frowned. "Did she not visit the nursery or spend time with you otherwise?"

"We didn't even see her every day. If she had a formal engagement to attend or was otherwise indisposed, days could go by . . . weeks during The Season."

He smiled indulgently at her horrified expression.

"It was no great loss. We dreaded the encounters, as she used them to catalogue our misdemeanours and determine suitable punishments. Although I felt guilty about leaving Alice behind, it was a relief when I was sent away to school."

"What of your father?"

"We saw more of him when he was around. He would find any excuse to spend time away from Mother."

Bella couldn't imagine such a distant relationship with one's parents. Determined to make up to Edward for what he had missed, she held nothing back in expressing her love for him and was amply rewarded. Despite the coolness of his upbringing, he was unselfish in displaying his affection and as eager to be with her as she with him. When the weather was fine, they walked in the gardens, taking their lunch outside by the lake. On occasion, they dined together at a table set before the fire in her sitting room. And at night they made love before falling asleep in one another's arms.

The evening after their first walk in the garden, she insisted Edward take whatever extra precautions were available to him to prevent her becoming with child. Bella's confidence in the withdrawal method, as he called it, had waned after she had mentioned it to Jessica.

"Me second cousin, Louisa, got sweet-talked by a fella who knew all about withdrawal." Jessica grimaced. "Wouldna' been so bad if 'e'd stayed around to 'elp raise her twins nine months later."

Edward's alternative methods were a tad shocking, but he had faith in their effectiveness, not that he was as concerned as Bella about failure. He assumed if she were to have his babe, he would be there to protect her. Only she knew their days together were numbered, and she could not risk finding herself alone, on the run, and with child.

More than willing to take responsibility for preventing what he thought of as a premature conception, mainly because he wanted Bella all to himself for a time, he utilised a supply of 'French Letters.' Difficult to obtain, as they weren't legal, she was shocked to learn they were used to protect the man from disease, not the woman from becoming with child. Most gentlemen considered them a necessary evil and felt guilty about their use. Not because they were utilised outside of matrimony, but because a member of the upper classes was not supposed to deny a common woman his superior seed and the chance to bear his offspring. Despite the fact the women in question would have most likely been half-starved prostitutes ill-equipped to raise a child alone, the man was doing her a disservice, apparently.

Thankfully, Edward was willing to make use of the implements to postpone Bella's becoming with child.

The intriguing inventions made from animal intestines, not unlike a heavier duty sausage skin, required soaking in hot water before they could be used. It was time well spent, as far as Bella was concerned, considering the delightful ways Edward chose to fill the minutes while they waited for the letters to achieve the necessary degree of malleability.

The other method of conception he suggested involved a small sponge soaked in vinegar or lemon juice, of all things, and a surprisingly pleasant method of application. Or maybe insertion was the more accurate term. It put control over conception into the woman's hands, as she could be forearmed, so to speak, knowledge normally kept well hidden from those of Bella's class. How Edward came to know of the intriguing method, she decided she would rather not know, just thankful to be allowed a choice. While she would have loved to bear Edward's children one day, and even now waited to see if she might be carrying his child, she did not share his belief their legitimacy was of so little consequence. Despite the pleasantness of her new existence, and her attempts to 'impersonate an ostrich,' as Miss Brewer would have accused, it was impossible to ignore the stormy reality that loomed on the horizon.

Twice, Bella looked up to see Rosalie watching them from a window while Edward and she walked together in the gardens. Even from a distance, the lady's bitter fury was unmistakable, and she stepped closer to Edward's side. A woman originally scorned and then humiliated was not one to take lightly as an adversary. The fact she had yet to try to do Bella any harm worried her more than if Edward's cousin-in-law had been open in her attack. Of Lord Hunter, she tried not to think.

One morning, almost two weeks after she had agreed to Edward's proposal, they turned a corner in the hallway and came face-to-face with his cousin.

"Good morning." Lord McCarty greeted them both before doing a double-take at Bella's altered appearance.

Unsure how to respond to the situation, she fell back on the manners instilled in her since earliest childhood and curtsied demurely. To her surprise, Edward's cousin responded by proffering a modest but definite bow.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asked upon straightening.

The muscles in Edward's arm tensed beneath her hand.

"Yes, of course. Emmett, may I introduce Miss Bella Brown. Bella, my cousin, Lord Emmett Cullen, Viscount McCarty."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Brown."

"How do you do, Lord McCarty?" she replied after a moment's hesitation.

His eyebrows shot up, no doubt in response to her cultured tones. Before she could react, he took hold of her hand, bowing over it in a respectful manner. Or it would have been if he had not held on to her fingers for a fraction longer than was customary.

"Emmett." Edward glowered.

"Oh, don't be such a bore. I was hoping for a chance to meet your lovely young paramour and offer a sincere apology for my behaviour the other day."

Bella took a step closer to Edward's side, and Lord McCarty's expression sobered.

"I am sorry for any distress my ill-considered words may have caused you, Miss Brown. In my defence, I wouldn't have acted upon them. They were intended to get a rise out of my cousin . . . a hobby of mine. Will you accept my apology?"

His words seemed sincere, and though her heart was pounding at the memory of the dreadful things he and Lord Edgeley had said that morning in Edward's study, she nodded her acceptance.

"Excellent." He smiled broadly. "Because it's obvious my cousin plans on keeping you in his life, common sense and well-meaning advice be damned." He directed the comment to Edward who grunted in reply. "Not that I can blame him. Having made your acquaintance, it's not difficult to see the appeal."

Edward's grumbled response seemed more light-hearted, and Bella smiled tentatively.

"It is a pleasure to meet you also, Lord McCarty."

He chuckled, reminding Bella that, despite superficial appearances to the contrary, this encounter still fell outside the normal parameters of polite behaviour.

"Enjoy yourself, cousin," Lord McCarty said. "Because I can guarantee Uncle will have you neutered if he finds out what you have been up to, which, I imagine, will put quite a dampener on your fun. Not that I have any intention of telling him." He raised his hands when Edward stepped towards him. "Your black stallion is a joy to ride."

Ignoring Edward's curse, Lord McCarty grasped Bella's hand again and kissed the back of her gloved fingers.

"Until next time, Miss Brown." He winked, before leaving Edward and her standing in the hallway.

"Goodness." She turned to face Edward. "Your cousin is an interesting fellow. I'm sorry you had to give up your horse in exchange for his silence. Is it true your father would punish you if he found out about us?"

Edward's shrug was noncommittal, though the way he rubbed the back of his neck gave her pause.

"It is a good thing we are to keep our relationship a secret." She reminded him once they had obtained the privacy of her rooms. "Although I thought you said it was common practice for gentlemen of your stature to take a mistress. Why would your father object to you following the usual trend?"

Taking a seat, Edward drew her down beside him before answering. "Because of the way our political opponents could use any hint of moral weakness to discredit our cause. Damned hypocritical of them, if you ask me, considering their own proclivities," he added.

Bella hesitated to ask what those 'proclivities' might be.

Sighing, he continued in a slightly different vein. "My father had a change of heart after Lady Platt was widowed, and he began courting her openly. He no longer approves of the keeping of mistresses, though, of course, he kept several of his own over the years."

"Of course," Bella murmured bleakly. "What caused him to change his mind?"

"Utter foolishness . . . he fell in love."

"With Lady Platt?"

Edward grimaced.

"But I thought you said it wasn't done for a gentleman, especially a lord, to marry for love?"

"It's not done. My father has taken leave of his senses and will pay the price when his wife's true nature is revealed."

"But I've heard the new duchess is a caring and compassionate woman. The servants have nothing but good things to say about her." Bella would have been honoured to meet Carlisle's wife if circumstances had allowed.

"Maybe you are right." Edward's expression softened, and he drew her against his side. "She seems to be cut from a different cloth, and Father says she makes him happy. Time will tell, I suppose, but I think he will regret his folly."

Bella hoped, for both Carlisle's and Edward's sake, he was proven wrong in his assumptions. He seemed to have neatly compartmentalised the entire female population according to class, attributing aspects she would have thought had more to do with character, upbringing, and education than to breeding.

Where Bella fit, she no longer knew.

~I~

With Angela's encouragement, she ventured back to the kitchen one afternoon when Edward was busy with estate matters. Despite her friend's assurance all would be well, Bella questioned the wisdom of her actions. With Angela's company and Edward's regular attention, she could have chosen to remain in her rooms, but she missed baking and the camaraderie of the kitchen. Plus, she had an ulterior motive.

Though it pained her to do so, her thoughts were regularly exercised with trying to devise a plan for a future without Edward's support and involvement. If she was required to earn her living, references from Mrs Cope and Chef Peters would prove invaluable, as she still had no idea how to translate her mother's pearls into a nest egg. Lord Hunter's name—and that of his runaway bride—were no longer being mentioned in the papers, but she feared attempting to sell the pearls might alert him to her location.

To Bella's relief, she was treated civilly upon her return to the kitchen . . . mostly. A few of the servants looked at her askance, not that she blamed them. Her conscience had taken a battering when she had attended service one Sunday in the Worthington chapel. While she attempted to comfort herself with the knowledge that fornication was listed alongside gossip and covetousness, it still seemed a more serious sin.

If only Edward and she had lived in simpler times when a man offering a woman protection and taking her to live with him was tantamount to a wedding. She would not have fancied being one wife among many, but at least she would not have had to endure the grief of separation from the man she loved.

~I~

Almost three weeks after she became Edward's mistress, Bella responded to a knock at the door. With Angela busy attending to her laundry, she opened the door, half expecting to be greeted by another bunch of flowers or some other surprise. He had taken to bringing her gifts of chocolates, fripperies, even jewellery, though nothing too extravagant.

The surprise that awaited her was of an altogether different nature.

"Good afternoon, Miss Brown." Lord Whitlock's greeting was offered politely, but there was no disguising the grim determination in his tone. "I think it's time you and I became a little better acquainted."

~I~

This chapter ends on a rather ominous note, so I'll post the next one straight away, as it's only short.

I think hearing Edward talking about his relationship, such as it was, with his mother, helps explain his negative views of tonnish ladies a little. While I wouldn't have minded the odd break and a bit of extra help when my children were young, I can't imagine seeing my children so rarely and having such a formal and distant relationship with them. Sadly, this was the norm for most upper class families. Shudder!

xx Elise