Disclaimer: All things you recognize from the original work belong to Stephanie Meyer and her respective distributors, producers, and publishers. I play in the universe to stretch my writing muscles and to entertain those who deem me worthy of reading and myself. I do not profit from this work.
Chapter Two: Daydreams
Charlie arrived just in time for supper. Kate and I prepared stroganoff accompanied by a white wine, which set Father in a good mood. Renée had cooked the dish often as a favor to him.
At seven-thirty Charlie finally put down his fork and wiped his mustached mouth with a napkin.
"Thank you for the wonderful meal, Kate and Bella," he said with complete satisfaction, leaning back with small smile. "Did you have a pleasant day?"
"Yes," Bella said. "I did a little reading this morning after we finished what remained of moving in. Of course, Kate did most of the work, as always."
I sent the unrepentant redhead an exasperated glare. The woman barely let me put on my stockings myself most mornings.
"My girl, you are the only woman I know who would complain about being spoiled," Charlie laughed.
"Being spoiled upon occasion and rendering me utterly useless are entirely different matters," I asserted primly.
"Someday, little Bells, I hope you learn to appreciate the gift of idleness," Charlie's eyes crinkled in the corners with a gentle smile.
Achingly, it reminded me of the way he looked at Renée whenever he found something she did endearing.
"Did you find something to do after you finished? I hope you didn't stay in the house the whole day."
I chewed my lower lip for a moment.
He took another sip of his wine. Kate hadn't told him about my encounter, and I was not sure I wanted to discuss it quite yet. Charlie was a protective father and had vehemently protested every introduction and passing mention of men in relation to myself.
"Katelyn and I decided to take a walk down the street. I don't think I've ever seen so many shoppes."
"More accommodating than our little Tinly Park, eh?"
"Yes, Father. We found a grand library. I was actually hoping I could have your permission to go there and register for a library card tomorrow, after my lessons," I said in hopes of escaping boredom.
"Didn't you get any books today? You never miss a chance to immerse yourself in a new adventure."
"Oh, well, I-"
He met my gaze, and suspicion blossomed over his face.
Drat.
It was no use lying.
So much for keeping my encounter with Edward Masen to myself.
"Actually, before we could reach the library itself I-" I caught Kate giving me a smug grin and grimaced. "Well, I forgot myself upon seeing it, Daddy, and I ran into the street without thinking."
"Isabella Swan! You should be more careful! Were you hurt? Was there much traffic?"
"Quite right, Mr. Swan. I told her myself that the young Miss ought to be more aware of her surroundings! Saints preserve us - a lad had to risk himself to pull our young Miss Swan out of the path of an automobile!"
Kate moved in from my peripheral vision and I felt the urge to kick her later. Or at least put salt in her gin tonight.
I steeled myself as Charlie's unhappy face turned back to me.
"I'm surprised you didn't say something sooner, dear. You have always been generous with your praise of good deed-doers in the past."
My heart stuttered, and I hoped to God in heaven I didn't look as red as I felt.
"I am only embarrassed I needed rescuing from the results of my own stupidity, in the first place," I muttered. "He was quite gracious to me. He offered to escort us back home, fearing for my constitution after the incident."
"And does your hero of the day have a name, Isabella?"
"Edward Masen," I answered too quickly. "…I think."
Adding the last on felt blasphemous when my heart seemed to flutter at the mere sound of it. To my surprise, however, Charlie's features relaxed.
"I was worried some dandy had used your raised nerves to take advantage of your company," he chuckled by way of explanation. "Good young man, Edward. He's Chief Prosecutor Anthony Masen's son."
I felt a spark of hope light in my belly. If my father had previous acquaintance with the Masen family, there was every chance we'd come across one another again. The unbidden idea left me reeling. Never had I felt so disarmed.
"He was most accommodating," I heard myself saying. "He was kind enough to extend his services as escort should I require them in the future."
"Well. I suppose you could have had a worse hero, sweetheart. I hope you apologized and thanked him for the trouble."
"Of course, Daddy."
He smiled at me affectionately.
"Of course. I ought not have asked. You are always such a pride to me, Bella."
Charlie's ears reddened a little at the admission, and he picked up the evening news paper to signal his desire for solitude. As soon as I finished eating, I excused myself for bed.
While I soaked in my oats-and-honey scented bath, Edward Masen's perfect features and melodic voice swam through my mind.
He had asked my permission to call on me. Again, the foreign feeling of tingling warmth slid down my spine, and I shivered. I tried to think about something else - anything - but the poems and tales I conjured fell quickly to the distraction of his face imprinted across the back of my mind.
I could not remember ever feeling thus.
"Kate?"
She appeared around the edge of the folding screen shielding my tub from the rest of my bedroom with a towel in hand.
"Yes, Miss?" she asked, draping the towel down on the chair nearest my bath.
"I-" My cheeks reddened. "I'm not sure how to describe what I'm feeling. It's something like giddiness, but it aches. I feel feverish, as well, and I haven't been able to focus on anything since we returned home."
A Cheshire Cat grin curled her lips, and she returned to my side, taking the chair.
"You fancy him," she concluded easily. "I knew I saw you making eyes at him, and he with all that flirting."
I contemplated the concept. It sounded awfully silly of me, if Kate diagnosed correctly. Yes, the man was undeniably handsome, but that sort of interest ought to have required a higher level of regard built on mutual acquaintanceship, over a period of time. I had always dismissed the idea of love at first sight. When it became clear to Kate I would not be speaking further on the subject, she bustled away, leaving me to my thoughts.
Charlie had spoken of the Masen law firm before and of Anthony Masen. If I hadn't been so dazzled I might have made the association. His suave and casually eloquent speech fit perfectly to someone raised by such a person.
"Shall I turn down your bedding, Miss?"
I sighed and pulled myself out of the bathtub, making dark spots on the floor as I toweled off.
"Yes, thank you," I said tiredly. "Kate?"
She looked at me fondly, a soft smile on her freckled face. Her hair looked frazzled beneath her bonnet, and dark smudges girded her fingernails from shaking down the ashes in the furnace. She worked too hard to care for me.
"Thank you for today."
"Of course, wee Miss. 'Tis what your mother would have wanted as well," she chuckled. "I knew it the minute I saw the way you looked at him. Your whole face lit up like sunrise over a glen."
I took a seat at my vanity to begin brushing out my loose, dark curls, staring at my reflection.
My chance encounter with the angel played through my mind.
Had I any effect on him? It seemed everything Edward did made that strange heat caress my bones with such intensity, even remembering brought with it a shadow of his burning touch.
I dragged my hand across my waist in a cheap imitation of his fingertips through my bodice and desperately wished I could feel that again. Warm, firm, and gentle against my side, he had been close enough to kiss me more than once today.
"Are you alright, Miss? You've become flushed," worried Kate.
She pulled the brush from my hand to continue where I left off, and I hastily took a pick to my fingernails, cleaning underneath them.
"Your hair finally has its luster again," she hummed. "When the weather breaks you can start wearing it down once more."
I nodded absently, pausing as I caught my reflection in the stand-up mirror beside my armoire. Had he felt the way I did when he looked at me? Had he admired my profile as I did the breadth of his shoulders? My hands smoothed over the front of my nightgown, pressing the voluminous fabric against slim figure.
My complexion had always been untroubled by the spots some girls my age fought. Though my breasts lacked in size, I liked the shape of them - not unlike those seen on classical statues. My face seemed uninteresting compared to other women I'd seen. My waist-length chocolate brown hair hung in a disarray of waves and loose curls. At least my waist, cinched even smaller and shapelier by a corset every day, dipped in prettily and gave me the illusion of femininity when dressed.
How could such an angel be interested in me of all girls? Surely Kate observed wrongly. He was just too chivalrous to let two women walk home with the sun on its way down.
Surely there were plenty of prettier women here in Chicago, and being that he seemed to be one of the most eligible bachelors in town, one would assume many had already been pushed in his direction. Then the memory of his flushed face looking up at me from the sidewalk flashed across my mind's eye.
No, I had not imagined his nervous request. I would have never conceived such a thing. An errant lock of cool, damp hair brushed against my collarbone, and I shuddered again. Suddenly, each caress of my nightdress against my fevered skin caused unfamiliar pleasure to dance across my nerves.
Unwilling to let the torment continue and tired of my spinning thoughts, I slipped between the sheets. Kate smiled fondly at me, bent to brush a few rebellious curls away from my face, and pressed a kiss to my brow. I heard the scrape of ceramic as the sweet maid pushed a cleaned chamberpot under my bed, and the faint smell of kerosene and smoke followed as Kate doused the lamps.
Beyond the borders of my bed, night amplified its symphony of sounds: a few early crickets, a light breeze against the lovely window, the creak and groan of the house settling on its foundations.
I had not realized I'd fallen asleep until the dream found me, and then it took a little longer for me to realize the sense of deja vu came from recent memory.
Warm water and smooth copper ensconced my naked body, and my limbs felt heavy. I turned at a noise beyond the blurred edge. Kate, I recalled, would come around its edge with a towel in a moment.
"Bella."
My cheeks flamed, and I crossed my arms over my chest, ducking down into the tub and splashing water everywhere as Edward loped to my side. His emerald eyes pinned me, holding me captive, and he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves before bending to pick up the sponge I dropped in my surprise.
"I- I'm not decent," I stammered, heat engulfing my flesh. "You must leave. Kate will be back soon."
"No," he murmured, and I shivered as he dipped the sponge into the water and plucked the bar of soap from its tray spanning the foot of the tub.
He worked up a lather and leaned over me, his gaze never drifting from my face as he slowly washed my shoulders, then coaxed my hand into his. The tantalizing, slightly rough feeling of the sponge against my glistening skin made my heart race. Edward's left hand cupped the back of my neck, and his fingers tangled in my wet curls. He dropped the sponge, and I tried to keep my breasts covered as he lowered his lips to mine.
"My Bella..."
"Bella! Miss Bella it's time to get up. 'Twas just a night terror, dear. Wake up now."
Kate's fingers drew across my forehead and I sat up, confused at the sunlight streaming through the window.
Weeks. Weeks had passed, and still that dream taunted me.
She left me no time to contemplate my frustration, however, and I found myself pulled into my routine once more.
Shortly after finishing breakfast, a tutor from Mrs. Hornby's School for Girls arrived for my lessons. First, we spent an hour drawing, followed promptly by singing, then dance, elocution and etiquette. Then lunch at noon followed by French and Latin.
"Miss Swan, please focus."
I wanted to go to the library. Perhaps I might have been lucky to come across him by happy accident, once more. Or better, I might find a good book to take my mind off him. It seemed, despite my most stubborn attempts to the contrary, my brain fled toward memories of his face, his voice, and his graceful fingers.
"Miss Swan?"
An unfamiliar touch against my shoulder brought me out of my daydreams with a jerk.
"I'm so sorry," I apologized, internally berating my rudeness. "Would you be so kind as to repeat yourself? I'm afraid I've been rather distractible this morning."
My tutor, a young man named Michael Newton, gave me a wry smile. He treated me well enough, I suppose, but he had the unattractive habit of correcting me even when I required no correction. He had a condescending manner, and he dismissed any opinion I expressed out of hand.
"Well, far be it from me to deny the frailties of a feminine mind," he said lightly, closing the book in his hands. "Perhaps we ought to just spend the rest of your lesson talking, for today, seeing as you're not quite yourself."
I forced myself to keep a bland expression as he sat across from me. His hand caught mine, and I used the excuse of fussing with my hair to escape his clammy hold.
"Thank you," I said. "I hope you'll excuse me. I think I must be feeling homesick."
Michael Newton's eyes scrutinized my face before sliding lower, following the long column of my throat to the modest vee of my blouse.
"Please, feel free to speak to me about it," he offered lowly, capturing my hand again.
His finger began rubbing circles on the inside of my wrist, the feeling soon chafing against the sensitive skin there.
"I'm not a Chicago native either. It can take some getting used to," he said with an easy smile.
He shifted closer to me, and the dark amusement written across his boyish features made me shudder with an altogether different feeling than those of my dreams.
"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Newton," I tried to say more firmly, freeing myself again and hiding my hands in my lap. "I'm quite fine, really."
The click of Kate's heels nearly made me sigh with relief.
"Why don't I set out a low tea, or perhaps coffee for you, Mr. Newton?"
I gave Kate a grateful smile and jumped to help. We spent a good hour speaking about absolutely nothing of consequence, and finally, the blonde tutor took his leave, entrusting me to my maid's supervision. I returned to my lessons in Mr. Newton's absence, and even in my muddled state, I finished reading and annotating the assigned essays in my text in time to begin balancing the household books. Afterward, my indomitable maid went about preparing for dinner, and I picked up my sewing basket and settled in the parlor to torment my fingertips.
I felt so weary of it all. Renée and Charlie had both been united in that my education should rival that of any daughter of the upper echelon. If I became an old maid, at least I would be able to provide for myself as a teacher or governess.
A knock at the door made me put down Charlie's socks and go to the foyer, where Kate stood in the doorway.
"Telegram for Miss Swan, ma'am, from the station."
"Thank you. Here's a penny," the maid said with a smile, unfolding the missive as soon as the door closed again. "Bella, stop. Mr. Masen has invited us to dinner, stop. Meet me at six sharp, stop. 1500 North Astor, Stop. Car fare in the escritoire, stop."
My heart was choking my throat by the time she finished reading it. A wicked grin lit her face as she wordlessly urged me up the stairs. I ran, hiking up my skirt to maneuver faster.
I felt a smile stretch my cheeks. I would see him again! I would feel the warmth of Edward's smile by evening's end.
"The devil isn't licking at your heels yet, lass," Kate laughed, close behind me. "Comport yourself."
"I haven't the time," I giggled.
The noise felt foreign to me, but I could not bring myself to care or question my sudden levity. Kate and I rushed about in a dance of feminine vanity. She laid out a fresh corset and pulled may only evening gown from the wardrobe. For the first time, I didn't feel embarrassed by its extravagance. Renée had commissioned the pale periwinkle, crepe de chine dress shortly before she fell ill, and the first time I had seen it, I'd thought it garish compared to the nicest dresses witnessed Tinley Park.
Soft blue silk draped from a satin empire waist, flowing gracefully to my ankles. Delicate chiffon afforded my shoulders and upper arms modesty while more periwinkle fabric banded my breasts, leaving my collarbones and neck on full display.
I held my breath obediently while Kate laced me into the tighter corset, before I pulled up my stockings and clipped my garters in place. The dress came next, settling into place with a row of buttons at my back, and I smoothed on the matching blue satin gloves and marveled at my reflection in the mirror after Kate finished pinning my curls into place with heavy silver combs.
A stranger stared back at me. Her flush only served to emphasize the smooth porcelain of her skin, and her body looked delicate and graceful swathed in such fine fabric. Slender ankles peeked from beneath the hem of her gown, where pointed satin encased her small feet.
"Oh, Miss," Kate breathed.
I looked up in time to see her dab at her eyes with her handkerchief. Sometime in the frenzy, she'd changed from her utilitarian grey skirt and white blouse into a more formal uniform reserved solely for entertaining guests, or in this case, chaperoning me to my host's home.
The taxi moved too slowly across town and Kate's chattering lost its calming effect once we reached the right street. I felt certain I could hear the delicate beading over my chest rattling with each heartbeat.
Charlie stood waiting for me when the black car pulled to a stop. He helped me down, and I bit back a smile at his obvious discomfort. We never dressed for dinner in our own home, but Charlie had somehow found himself a dinner jacket to go with his smart tuxedo.
Edward Masen's row house on Astor street projected wealth unlike any home I had ever witnessed. The brick Georgian structure towered three stories high, and the molded detail on the trimmings and above the french windows made it look more like a small manor than a large row house. A narrow widow's walk wrapped around the high roof of the front porch, too, its railing woven with dark ivy, while below, a lovely rose garden threatened to encroach on the brick walls. I found myself wondering how even a lawyer afforded such a place, but then again, it wasn't uncommon for old-monied family members to pursue careers in public service, those days.
Charlie lent me his arm as he led me to the front door. I stopped breathing at the noise of the bell while my other hand trembled in the crook of my father's arm. After only a moment the door opened and a beautiful woman smiled at us. The tinkling of a piano drifted out from the hall behind her.
"Chief Swan, Miss Swan, we've been expecting you. Welcome to our home."
I could not help but be charmed by Mrs. Masen. She was elegant, but in such a way her beauty and composure seemed effortless. She led us down a richly carpeted hallway, and as we passed into a sitting room, my heart leapt from my chest and into my throat, again.
Edward Masen did not glance my way immediately. His long fingers caressed the ivory keys of a grand piano almost lovingly, producing a bittersweet melody to wrap me up. Part of me wanted to feel exasperation at his utter perfection.
Did he possess any fault, at all, or was I doomed to feel eternally inadequate in his presence?
The sound diminished slightly at his mother's voice.
"Edward, Mr. Swan and his daughter have arrived. Won't you come greet them?"
Her voice was impossibly adoring as she looked at her son, and in the warm lamplight of the parlor I saw where his unusual hair color came from; Mrs. Masen's carefully styled locks shined the same bronze hue.
Immediately, Edward stood and came around the piano bench so quickly I wondered how his motion did not blur like that of a humming bird's wings. He smiled his angel's smile as he shook Charlie's hand.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Chief Swan. My father speaks very highly of you."
My breath caught as he turned his emerald depths on me. His hand slowly took mine, and he bent to brush a kiss against my fingertips.
Immediately, the terrible, wonderful fever traveled the length of my spine, settling somewhere in my belly.
"And a delight to see you again, Miss Swan."
"Again, Edward?" Mrs. Masen inquired, smiling at her son with a delicately arched brow.
He smiled and pressed a sweet kiss against her cheek.
"Yes, Mother," he confirmed. "I had the happy fortune of meeting Miss Swan a while ago, on the way to the library."
"Oh? I hope you haven't scared the poor dear off with your antics and all your talk of he war," she chided, her lips turning down in the corners in disapproval.
A piece of me cheered in agreement at her obvious dislike for the prospect.
"Of course not," he said reassuringly, but I saw him wink at me when she turned towards the dining room.
"Please, Mr. Swan, Bella, make yourselves comfortable," our hostess insisted, waving forward a butler with a tray of crystal glasses.
Charlie finally plucked up the courage to speak to the lovely lady as I sipped at the cocktail.
It tasted sour and almost sickeningly sweet to my untrained palate, but I managed to keep the dislike from my features.
"I am glad to finally meet you, Mrs. Masen," Charlie said a little gruffly, scrubbing his undoubtedly damp hands over the knees of his wool trousers. "You have a beautiful home."
Poor Charlie never was very comfortable speaking with beautiful women, excepting Renée. Still, he engaged her in stilted conversation while Edward caught my attention again.
"Shall I play for you, Miss Swan?" he murmured as he tucked my hand in his arm, his eyes smoldering with mirth and something I could not recognize. "Do you have any favorites?"
With a glance at my father, I allowed him to guide me across the plushly carpeted room and sat on the long piano bench at his bidding.
"I enjoy Debussy," I finally answered, feeling mesmerized by his voice, alone.
Edward sat beside me, and his smile relaxed.
"He's a favorite of mine, as well," he admitted, and his eyes lit up as his fingers brushed the keys again.
'Riverde' spilled out of the piano and wrapped me in a cocoon of happiness while I watched him play. Beneath his touch, the cascade of sweet notes pulled me toward tears for their loveliness.
Just as the song trilled to an end, a man with Edward's straight nose and strong jaw strolled into the parlor. He swept to his wife's side without acknowledging anyone else, kissing her fingertips before shaking Charlie's hand and turning to me.
I rose as gracefully as I could - my knees only trembling a little - as he introduced himself, taking my gloved fingers and kissing them just like his son.
"You must be Miss Swan," he grinned, graciously guiding me to sit once more. "Our Edward wasn't exaggerating at all it seems. You are indeed lovelier than his words could ever convey."
I couldn't help blushing, and I stammered over a demure reply. Mrs. Masen smiled and swatted her husband's arm playfully after he joined her on the love seat.
"It seems I'm the only one in this house not to have heard a chirp about you, Bella," she sighed, giving her spouse and son equal looks of chastisement neither seemed to mind. "And you, Tony. I'm most disappointed."
Mrs. Masen's face drew into a sweet pout, and Mr. Masen laughed before kissing her on the mouth.
My cheeks flamed. Charlie cleared his throat uncomfortably, and I bit my lip to stop myself from giggling nervously. Edward laughed and rolled his eyes.
Never had I seen more disregard for the social contracts in which we all immersed ourselves. Part of me reveled in the indecorous display, however, and I wondered whether his son would be as open in his affection.
"Father, we have company," Edward drawled. "You're tainting the innocent."
Mr. Masen coughed and smiled easily.
"You shall have to forgive me for forgetting myself," he said, still smiling adoringly at his wife. "I simply couldn't bear even a hint of unhappiness on your face."
The lady of the house seemed too charmed and flustered to do more than make a token comment about propriety.
"Eddie, please humor your mother," Mr. Masen suggested.
His son's emerald eyes gleamed, and he turned around on the bench to regale them the tale of our impromptu introduction.
"Well, I was walking toward the library, minding my own business, rejoicing in the birth of spring, and thinking of my lovely Mother's pie-" he began teasingly, affecting the sort of storytelling voice I imagined Mark Twain used for his work. "-when I passed Mrs. Hornby's gate. I tipped my hat to the girls in the yard and was about to buy a Tribune when Mike Newton tapped me on the shoulder. He asked me to thank you, Father, for all your help."
His playful expression darkened a little, and I glanced between him and his sire with growing curiosity and unease. Mr. Masen harrumphed and recrossed his legs.
"That boy is lucky I owed his father a favor," the attorney grumbled. "I still cannot resolve what he did with how I know he was raised. If it weren't for Tim, I would have happily let the boy rot in jail."
"What could be so bad as to warrant all that?" asked Charlie worriedly. "Mrs. Hornby highly recommend him to us. He's Bella's new tutor."
I felt Edward stiffen at my side, and found his kind features drawn into one that promised violence. I tentatively touched his elbow, and he flashed a tight smile.
"Her tutor? Good Lord," Mr. Masen shook his head. "Then again, Tim's lined a lot of pockets to keep it out of the papers, and I suppose you were away when it all went to court. We shall discuss it after dinner. I don't think it's appropriate conversation for mixed company."
Elizabeth's lips pursed at that despite her husband's indulgent smile, and I bristled a little at the implication. Charlie frowned and nodded, and our hostess smoothed over the moment of awkwardness by virtue of her easy grace.
"Please continue, Eddie," she urged.
I smiled. It was impossible not to love the indomitably happy woman, and I imagined Renée would have been good friends with her, in another life.
"Of course, Mother," Edward agreed. "Anyway, I was about to leave when Newton pointed across the street and stopped me again. I looked across the way and saw Miss Swan walking down the sidewalk, looking about with such interest I knew the lady must be new to town. I quickly decided to make a pest of myself and welcome her to our fair city, when I heard a woman scream. I realized with terribly clarity the lady had stepped into the street, oblivious to the danger barreling toward her."
Edward had become animated, and Mrs. Masen gasped, her hand covering her mouth delicately.
"Oh dear. You weren't hurt, were you, darling?" she asked me, and I gave her a reassuring smile.
I wanted to glare at her boy, however. It was one thing to relive my embarrassment internally, and another entirely to hear it regaled like some grand adventure in which the silly little damsel breaks a fingernail and renders herself completely useless, never mind her wits or perfectly functional limbs.
"Of course I couldn't just stand by, so I dashed across the street and pulled Miss Swan out of the way," Edward related. "It was very good luck I managed it, too, or we wouldn't have had such a pleasant stroll. I was so distracted by the lovely lady that I quite forgot to return my books."
Edward smiled at me, again, and I felt myself melting inside. Mrs. Masen's rapt gaze narrowed as it slid appraisingly between us, our seats a little too close to be strictly considered within polite standards.
"From your face, my boy, I think you found it more than pleasant," she teased, turning to her husband. "I think it's finally happened, my love. Look at our boy's eyes. He's been entranced."
The woman laughed and I found the sound just as infectious as Edward's deep chuckle, and my mirth at Edwards clear discomfort eased my own embarrassment a little. Charlie cleared his throat again, uncomfortable and pink in the cheeks as the mother gushed and Mr. Masen laughed.
"Humming about the house at all hours, composing first thing in the morning, daydreaming, not even an utterance about that thrice blasted war." She leaned into her husband with a happy sigh. "Oh, I've hoped, but never thought the day would come. Look at him, Tony."
I tried not to grin too broadly at Edward's flushed face as he ran a nervous hand through his gloriously messy hair.
"Now, now, Lizzy," he gently cautioned, patting her hand. "We shouldn't put the cart before the horse. I know well how badly you want him to stay home, but you must accept that Edward's a man now, completely capable of making his own decisions about his future. Let the boy be."
"And what future would that be, my love, if he went that route?" Mrs. Masen blithely argued, her tone perfectly cheerful despite the flash of anger in her righteous gaze. "I see no reason why we should not encourage this acquaintance, if not to keep him from Europe, then to feed the joy in your son's face."
Charlie breathed a sigh of relief as a bell sounded, and the butler reappeared in the door to welcome us to dinner.
"Shall we?" Edward suggested, offering me his arm.
I tried not to look at my father as I accepted, rising from the piano bench to accompany him to the dining room. I felt Charlie's eyes watching us, and I hoped he would not take badly to Mrs. Masen's observations.
The room momentarily distracted me from the warmth of my escort against my side. It, like the rest of the home, seemed perfectly tailored to impress with subtle elegance wrought by gleaming mahogany and fine, heirloom china. I wondered again whether the Masen family had always been so fortunate as Edward pulled out my seat. Charlie settled across from me, Anthony's place on his other side, and the young man waiting on us moved to the sideboard and its gleaming silver-covered platters. I pulled off my gloves before spreading my serviette over my lap, and the dance began.
Operating in an intricate ballet of silver and porcelain, he and the rest of the small serving staff brought around dish after dish. Delicate canapés preceded a savory soup, followed by an exquisite lemon-butter salmon, after which came game hens stuffed with spiced rice and nuts, something I'd never sampled, before. Still, the parade of delicious morsels continued in a shining example of perfect culinary execution upheld by all the rigid tradition of fine dining. The fifth course entailed lamb chops with mint jelly and a variety of vegetables, then roasted squab on wilted watercress. A salad of spring greens and strawberries followed, then crusty bread, rosemary crackers, and a selection of pâté and foie de gras. All the while, I tried to savor increasingly tiny forkfuls as my corset protested mightily against my rapidly filling belly.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth effortlessly pulled us all into conversation, navigating Charlie's awkward nervousness at the formal dining experience and distracting me from becoming too invested in the way Edward's gaze heated each time my lips closed around each delicious morsel.
"Are you a suffragist, Bella?" she asked once her husband had my father wrapped up in a legislation-related discussion.
I stiffened a little at the question and hoped I wasn't about to ruin her opinion of me or fall into a trap. I so wanted her approval- Anyone would after receiving the gift of her pleased smile.
"I have not had the opportunity of an introduction to anyone involved in the movement," I said with careful neutrality. "Still, I admire their efforts and pray their sacrifices result in change. Ms. Anthony is a revolutionary, in my perspective. I know we are women of comfortable lives, but I know a lot of girls who could benefit - including myself - by having the vote. After all, if Eve had no place in God's country, then he wold not have taken one of Adam's ribs to create her."
"Hear, hear!" Elizabeth grinned, her eyes crinkling as she raised her glass to me. "No matter how your acquaintance with my son evolves, Bella, dear, I expect to see you here often. We must speak more on the issue. It's been too long since I've had another woman with whom to share my enthusiasm for the movement. For all the sense our sisters claim to possess, too many are much too prudish for their own good."
I preened at her vocal approval and the implied invitation. The warmth in my chest only grew as Edward's elbow brushed against mine, and I thought his affectionate and hopeful expression too heartbreakingly sweet for words.
"I quite agree," he intimated to a roll of his father's eyes. "It seems a terrible injustice to deny such intelligent persons the right to a voice when so often the brunt of our society's mistakes tend to harm them more than their brothers, fathers and sons."
I took another sip of wine and glanced up at him through my lashes, resisting the urge to lean into his warmth. It was an entirely inappropriate impulse. My mind readily acknowledged that fact, but my very blood sang at his proximity. He was to me like the sweetest perfume, and I reacted just as a bee drawn in by that heady fragrance.
The tenth course, an iced cream of such decadence as to make me sigh with delight, passed rapidly, and after, the selection of cheese and fruits barely registered despite the lovely accompaniment they made to the sweet white dessert wine. Finally, finally, Elizabeth rose, and I practically jumped to my feet in my haste to be free of the table and her son's proximity. I rounded the standing gentlemen to take her hand, and we proceeded into the drawing room. The smell of cherries and tobacco found us as the men lit pipes or cigars, following us in. A maid served coffee, and I settled upon a chaise while Elizabeth joined Charlie and Anthony at a table for cards.
Edward, I noticed, forewent smoking and the accompanying port, choosing instead a coffee as he made his way to me.
"May I join you, Miss Swan?"
I barely managed to nod and gesture to the velvet-upholstered wingback nearest my chaise. The lamplight danced in the periphery of my vision, flickering and warping in the panes of the french doors lining one wall. The same orange glow caught in his beautiful hair, and I badly wanted to run my fingers through that mussed pompadour. Instead I watched him as he crossed his legs one way, then the other, and finally leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his fingers interlaced as if in prayer before him.
"May I-" he paused as I met his gaze, biting my lip to hold back the nervous babble I felt sure I'd spout just to fill the silence.
He caught my hand, and his long fingers brushed the inside of my naked wrist. I gasped softly at the spark of electricity zinging from the point of contact, and my heart raced under my breast.
"Do you have any idea how much that-" his thick eyebrows furrowed, and he shot a quick glance over his shoulder to check on Charlie.
Elizabeth in her wisdom had made him sit with his back to us, and I felt infinitely grateful for the small degree of privacy his position afforded us. Assured of his continuing engagement in the card game, Edward returned his gaze to my face. Moving slowly, deliberately providing me the chance to move away if I so chose, he raised his free hand to my face and gently stroked from the left side of my temple to my jaw, where his touch caught against my lower lip and freed it from its torment at my teeth.
"If you keep on like that, I shall have to kiss you, Miss Swan," he murmured.
Heat rolled down my spine in a rush of pleasure, pooling somewhere in my belly and creating a burning need elsewhere: an ache with which I had only recently become acquainted. The pad of his thumb swept across my soft lower lip once, twice, and then pulled away. I wanted to tell him to kiss me - beg him, even - but instead, I straightened in my seat and began fussing with my gloves where they rest on my lap. My coffee, untouched, sat cooling on the side table between our chosen seats.
"God forbid such a thing should come to pass," I breathed, acknowledging the thick tension between us and the attraction I now knew he reciprocated.
"He ought to," Edward assured me in a throaty whisper. "The thoughts you inspire in me to are not altogether wholesome, as ashamed as I am to admit it. I must confess-"
Both of his hands captured one of my own.
"That which my mother suggested has indeed come to pass," he continued. "I haven't quite been the same since that afternoon. I can scarcely think without your name, your voice, the color of your hair invading my mind. Since the moment I met you, I've been prisoner to your smile, and I very much would like..."
His voice trailed off in a nervous rasp, and he took a breath before speaking again. Meanwhile, his clever fingers continued their circuitous caress over my inner wrist.
"With your permission, Miss swan, I would very much like to ask your father's blessing to court you."
My mind reeled. I could barely organize my words, let alone order my lungs to continue as they had a moment before. It wasn't fair for him to have kept looking at me with such hope, such fevered intensity, while I tried to formulate a response.
"I-" my voice left me in a breathy sort of squeak. "We- I think perhaps you ought not say such things without-"
Edward's gentle grip tightened around my hand, and I gasped as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against my palm.
"Miss Swan," he replied. "I have already asked my Father if he approved of my decision, and you heard my mother. She wouldn't be more delighted if I decided to propose to you tonight. Please- Please, say yes. I promise I shall endeavor only to bring you joy, to earn the honor of your sweet smiles and gracious company."
His eyes smoldered at me from a fringe of thick, long lashes, and his lips curled into a pleading smile. Spots swam across my vision, and I barely registered my body slumping to the side.
"Miss Swan?" Edward's angel's voice sounded alarmed.
My head felt fuzzy. Part of me realized I had forgotten to breathe and that I'd swooned in the absence of oxygen. Edward, his warm hands at my shoulders to steady me, knelt before the chaise to coax me into a lounging position against the pillows beneath me.
"There, now," he soothed, pressing a cool glass of water into my hand. "Are you feeling unwell? Shall I call for a doctor?"
The frightened expression twisting his beautiful mouth and clouding his eyes made me choke back the slightly hysterical laughter bubbling in my chest, and I cupped his cheek, savoring the unfamiliar feeling of the light scrape of stubble beneath my palm.
"I am perfectly well," I assured him a little giddily. "Much more than that, actually. I just-"
I could not quite keep the embarrassment from my voice.
"I believe, Mr. Masen," I continued softly. "Your question thrilled me so thoroughly as to temporarily rob me of my ability to breathe."
"Then-"
"Yes," came my emphatic reply. "I would be pleased to accept your suit, should my father approve."
His face glowed with a triumphant grin.
"That said, I must confess I will be forced to consider other such suits in short order."
"Forced, indeed?" he frowned. "By what power?"
My smile became a little wistful, and I toyed with my gloves. The silly silk gloves Renée insisted upon when she placed the order for my beautiful evening gown.
"I'm fortunate enough to have a debut," I explained regretfully. "My mother's work. I could not bear to be disloyal to her wishes, so I hope you will forgive me if I ask you to wait until after to officially come calling."
Edward's smile returned.
"Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come," he said, his low, rumbling voice making me shiver. "Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom."
This, I thought as I reveled in his intimate murmur, the rush of my blood through my veins, and the perfume of his scent surrounding me. This was the sort of heady fall I had always wondered at in the romances Renée so enjoyed. This was the longing, the desperate giddiness that inspired music, and art, and all things good or beautiful.
"Having met you, Isabella Swan," Edward said with quiet passion. "I would wait a hundred years for the chance to hear you speak, let alone receive the promise of your company."
"I'll make sure to send you an invitation to my debut," I told him, unable to think of anything better.
What else could I say to such intensity, when words could not describe the joy swelling within me?
"Until then, however," I hedged. "Would you be so kind as to show me your lovely garden?"
Without another word, he tucked my re-gloved hand into his arm and led me through the french doors onto the patio and the lawns beyond. The roses, the beautiful, old trees arching over the neatly maintained garden, the bubbling koi pond and its fountain- None of it compared to the feeling of his touch or the music of his voice. He told me of his studies abroad, of attending Eaton, then Oxford by his great uncle's auspices. I eventually gathered Elizabeth had descended from nobility, as it turned out, and the great uncle in question currently held an earldom.
Old money, indeed.
I told him of growing up in Tinley Park, and he confessed his desire to reside in such a place, himself, after spending time at his uncle's manor in England.
"I should like to settle in the country, eventually," he intimated. "Whenever I am lucky enough to find myself with a wife and family. There is nothing quite so nice as waking up in the morning, walking out to the porch, and witnessing naught but God's green earth."
Eventually, however, Charlie walked out on the patio and beckoned for me to come with him. I looked back at Edward's crestfallen face as I followed my father back to the front door.
"We simply must do this again," Mrs. Masen insisted after kissing the air above my cheeks. "And Bella, dear, I expect you to come visit with me whenever you're able."
"I would be delighted," I assured her after sliding my arms into the coat Edward held for me while the butler took care of my father.
"Will we be seeing you all at Bella's debut?" Charlie asked over my head. "We've yet to send out the invitations, but seeing how well young Edward and my daughter seem to be getting on…"
He finished the thought a little stiffly, not wanting to be rude but also struggling with the idea of his only child in conjunction with a man.
"Of course we shall have to attend," Anthony agreed enthusiastically. "Do send us the announcement once it's been printed."
"Of course," Charlie smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Masen. See you tomorrow, Anthony. Good night, Edward."
I echoed his farewells, the door closed, and I followed my father toward the hired car waiting for us on the curb. Before the driver closed my door and just after Charlie took his own seat, Edward caught my hand.
"Until next time, Miss Swan," he murmured, pressing another kiss to my knuckles.
Charlie made a harrumphing noise behind me, and as Edward's fingers slid from mine, I knew he had stolen a piece of my heart.
