A/N: I have never owned and never will own anything mentioned in SM's Twilight saga. She is a God. I am a poor student. Enjoy.
Chapter Three: A Mother's Love
The next morning I was surprised to find Charlie waking me instead of Kate.
"Bella, dear, how have your lessons been going since last year?" he asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair Kate usually occupied.
"I have been doing pretty well, Father. I know Latin well. I'm still terrible with needlepoint and on a sewing machine but I'm a decent cook and my grammar and elocution lessons have been mostly successful, I think. Why?"
"Mr. Newton isn't available to tutor you from now on. I wondered if you still think you needed lessons or if you wanted to… If you would like to further your studies on your own."
I stared at Charlie blankly, my eyes wide.
"Really? I'm free to do as I like?"
"I think you're old enough and mature enough to make your own decision, Bells," he said with a crinkly-eyed smile, using his endearment for me.
"Thank you, daddy! I think I'd rather continue my education on my own. The library here is magnificent and I don't think my skills in dance and music is going to improve, even if I continue lessons."
Charlie nodded and patted my hand.
"Then off you go, darling. I have quite a bit to do at work today so be a good girl and help Kate with what you can before going off to do what you like. I'll call if I'm going to be late."
Charlie left the room and Kate came in, smiling.
"So, Miss Bella, what would you like to do today? The wash is done, I've got breakfast for you downstairs, and Mr. Swan left us a wee bit of spendin' money. Shall we go out on the town?"
An hour later, my stomach full of Kate's delicious biscuits, we stood outside of Le Château du Madame DuPont, my face screwed up in a scowl.
"I don't want to, Kate. It's too much. I just won't."
I couldn't believe that she dragged me out of the library to see this place.
"Yes, you will if you don't want to go naked to your own Debut."
I just wouldn't go, simple solution.
"But it's an archaic exhibition of chauvinism, Kate!"
"You'll do it, Miss Swan, or your dear mother –bless her soul- will roll in her grave!"
"Oh, you're terrible, Kate."
"Indeed I am."
And with that she pushed open the door to the French boutique and forced me onto a pedestal for a seamstress to take my measurements. The curtain went up and my clothes were pulled off me.
"Stand still, please, Miss."
The woman with the measuring tape had a fussy French accent and a whine of a voice.
"What is the occasion?"
"Her debut, ma'am," answered Kate at the same time that I muttered "my funeral."
"A debut? Charmante. Debutantes are less and less common these days and the married couples that show up are less and less… shall we say, elegant… because of it."
A few moments passed in silence as the woman measured my sorry excuse for a bust. I was 16 for God's sake. I should have had more curves by now. Renée had.
"Did you know that the traditional debut is a nice way of saying: here is my daughter, available to the highest bidder?"
"Bella!" Kate sounded peeved. I supposed I was being embarrassing.
The seamstress merely tutted.
"Is that Bella Swan I hear?"
I jumped and promptly lost my balance, falling from the pedestal and onto my behind. My scarlet face flushed eggplant as Elizabeth Masen stuck her head inside the curtain.
"Bella, dear! I knew I wasn't imagining things!"
Elizabeth stepped into the dressing area, wearing a high-collared dress with pins holding the sleeves in place. A girl followed her with a worried expression, trying to finish the fitting, I guessed.
"Escuse moi, Madame Masen, I shall be right with you as soon as I am finished measuring Mademoiselle Swan."
Elizabeth Masen smiled at me and I felt my heart swell for the kind, beautiful woman.
"No, take your time, Madame DuPont. I merely heard Bella darling's voice and wanted to make sure I haven't gone mad. The dear is a good friend of my family. Are you being fitted for your ball gown, Bella?"
"Yes, ma'am. Kate forced me in and here I am…" I said with a sigh. I felt so at ease with her.
"Darling, don't despair. I take it you're not exactly a traditional debutante… I wasn't either. I ran around with my brothers in a pair trousers and boots until I turned nine!"
"Sacred bleu!"
The seamstress seamed disturbed by the thought. I laughed.
"If it weren't so scandalous as a mother and a wife, I'd wear them again, too. They are quite a bit more comfortable. Anyway, have you picked a design, yet?"
She brought a catalogue and balanced it on her knee, thumbing through it.
"Oh, this would look darling on you, dear!" she exclaimed, holding up the magazine. The frock was cut to above the ankle, constructed of what seemed to be deep blue satin. The bodice was rouched and shaped into a daringly low sweetheart neckline. Semi-translucent gossamer rose from the low line to the throat, adding back a little modesty. Beading adorned the apex of the sweetheart and a velvet sash wrapped around the waist of the gown. The shapely skirt fell to the floor. The sleeves were capped and adorned with little velvet bows. I couldn't help but be charmed by it.
"It's perfect…"
"It will be stunning on you, dear! Madame DuPont, please order the fabric for this design. You can go ahead and charge the fittings and final delivery to my monthly bill."
I felt my mouth gape open in incredulity at Mrs. Masen.
"Mrs. Masen, please, that's much too generous!"
"Posh. If I'm going to get Eddie to settle down before that darned war seduces him I'll have to find something – or in our case – someone to enchant him. Besides, that dress was designed with you specifically in mind. Do you have shoes to go with it?"
"I… I really don't think I can accept such a gift, Mrs. Masen, I-"
Elizabeth stopped me with a dainty, gloved hand over my mouth.
"Bella I do not think I imagined the looks that passed between you and my Edward last night. If I am right about what they mean then I fully intend for you to marry my son. Now, as your future mother-in-law you can't expect me to let go an opportunity to gift you with something, can you? I'm a woman who knows exactly what she wants and will do anything in her power to see to it that it's done. Is that clear, Bella?"
I nodded, temporarily mute.
"Wonderful! Now then! Madame, please order…"
I stared as she pointed out several more dresses to the French woman. Before I could wrap my head around the mess or think to protest, Mrs. Masen had left my side and emerged from her own dressing area in a lovely walking dress and light coat.
"Come, darling, we must find you some shoes!"
Kate smiled at me conspiratorially as Elizabeth looped her arm in mine and lead me back onto the street. I found that my voice had lodged itself somewhere in my throat and struggled to make it come out. Before I could manage to get out more than a "Mrs.", Elizabeth had silenced me again.
"Don't worry, Bella. It's a gift. If you and Eddie do end up engaged, you shall have to put up with his generosity as well. I am an incredibly selfish and ambitious woman. I will not tolerate my boy going and getting himself killed, and you are the first and only girl he's given even a passing glance. I will not squander this opportunity to make him, you, and myself especially, happy."
And hearing her say it with such conviction, I immediately came to the conclusion that Elizabeth Masen was used to getting her way. And – in spite of my insecurities – I definitely would not fight her. I wanted to be with Edward. Desperately.
My day with Elizabeth was exhausting. I returned home in a taxi, mine and Kate's laps piled with boxes and bags. What was most frightening, though, was that the majority of our – or really Mrs. Masen's – purchases were to be delivered throughout the week.
At least the shopping mania had given me a better understanding of why Elizabeth did not tell Edward to be shod of me. She must have paid more attention to the news reports than to the propaganda than Edward. It was hard to believe that someone so apparently intelligent senselessly desired glory through battle.
Deciding pondering it more wouldn't help anyone, I began dinner while Kate put away the heaps of things that I didn't need.
Edward Masen. Edward Anthony Masen. Mrs. Edward Anthony Masen. Isabella Marie Masen…
Holy Mother of God, I was becoming one of those silly schoolgirls. I giggled a little to myself, winning a strange look from Kate as she came into the kitchen to help me peel potatoes.
Charlie came home long after he was expected. He sighed heavily throughout dinner and pushed his food around the plate rather than eating it. Very out of character. Finally, when I could take no more of the heavy sighs and death glares pointed at nothing, I put down my own fork.
"Father, is there something wrong with your casserole?"
"Hmph… No, Bella, it's… great."
I frowned. He was acting too strangely.
"What's happened, Daddy? Is something the matter? Something at work?"
"You didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
Without another word Charlie rose heavily from his seat and walked leadenly to the little table by the front door. I sat almost patiently listening to him shuffle through his brief case before returning to the table. He put the Chicago Tribune down in front of me as if it had done him personal damage.
The front page of the evening Tribune was dominated by Uncle Sam, brows arched angrily, finger raised in accusation. Beneath was a story only a few inches long. I wondered why it had upset Charlie so much.
"26 March 1917 – Fiasco in Gaza. After an ongoing struggle over the Suez Canal supply route, Allies were thwarted in their attempts to cut off Turkish forces' advance.
The advance, orchestrated by commander of Eastern Expeditionary Force, Sir Archibald Murray, was planned for 2:30 A.M. this morning. The main assault was led by Major General A.G. Dallas (54th Division, 161st Brigade). Fog shielded the movements of mounted units, which encircled Gaza successfully. Two German aircraft were severely damaged in the offensive. Many Turkish posts were surrounded and staff of the Turkish 53rd were captured.
Infantry, however, failed to position itself until 8:30, thirty minutes after the planned movement. Artillery did not commence bombardment of Ali Muntar (southeast of Gaza) until 9 A.M. Element of surprise lost, the battle deteriorated into embarrassing defeat.
For reasons unknown, reported an anonymous source, Dallas delayed the attack.
"Uncertainty cannot be tolerated when it comes to life and death situations," said one senator after the mission's failure.
Both Dobell and Murray are undergoing investigation after reporting success to British war office.
No report on death toll after agonizing defeat.
America asks Mr. Wilson: would there have been different outcome with American involvement?
Can our troops do better than theirs?"
I put the paper down, feeling my stomach clench uncomfortably.
"It seems they're pushing for more volunteers," I said a little stiffly. Nothing new, right?
"What they didn't report is that there were Americans over there. Some of our boys were on the front lines. Since it was unofficial, the ones that were lost won't be coming home."
I felt sick to my stomach. I could not believe Edward would want to be a part of the mess.
Charlie sighed and put the offending paper away, excusing himself from the table. Kate gave me a long look from the corner and I followed suit, escaping before the sympathy in her eyes made the worry in my heart grow any larger than it was.
I settled into bed early, thinking of Edward, of the war, of Elizabeth.
I definitely understood her desire to keep her son out of the war. It wasn't unpatriotic or cowardly. It wasn't selfish. What business did we have against Turkey? Our fight was with Germany for their attack on American civilians. Edward Masen from Chicago wanted to become one of the names not reported between the lines of lies in the newspaper.
I jumped, startled as something flew against my windowpane. The sound came again, softer this time, and I rose from my bed, pulling on my robe and stepping into slippers before walking to the window. I struggled with the catch for a moment and paused to listen for Charlie when it squeaked open.
The March breeze was cool against my cheeks as I stuck my head out, looking around curiously for the source of the disturbance.
"Miss Bella!"
Below, Edward stood in a light suit, his hat in his hands. He shook it slightly and I heard something click together in it.
"Were you throwing stones at my window, Mr. Masen?" I asked with a laugh.
"Never, Miss Bella! I was merely on my way home and by chance you opened your window."
I laughed again softly, keeping my voice to a whisper.
"If Charlie catches you he'll shoot you, Edward Masen."
"Charlie likes me, I think, Miss Bella. And I am here by happy accident. Why would he shoot me?"
I rolled my eyes and he chuckled. I clutched my robe tighter around myself, still listening hard… just in case.
"Since I'm here, by accident, I want to give you something, Miss Bella," said Edward in his honeyed voice.
"Oh, no more gifts, please!"
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"I don't want a gift, Edward."
"It isn't a gift! Not really! Merely a token, I promise Miss Swan."
I heard a floorboard creek and ducked. It didn't make sense, I knew, but it was the natural reaction.
"Bella?"
"Hurry, toss it up and go! He'll murder me… This isn't… Becoming." I winced at the last word. I sounded like one of my many tutors.
"'As you wish, Miss Swan!"
I stood back as he drew his arm back. Something small and dark flew through my window, soaring across the room and hitting the wall with a soft tap.
"Sweet dreams, Miss Swan!" I heard him call from the street. I closed my window hastily and turned the light on, looking for whatever it was. A paper plane had lodged itself between my headboard and the wall.
I picked it up gingerly, unfolding it carefully.
Edward Masen's elegant script was written in carefully straight lines in the center of the page.
"How I wish I could fly through your window as well – My body and mind are weak without their heart. But to be separated from you would stop its beats, and so I leave it in your safekeeping. Deny me the pleasure of being your prisoner and you deny me air to breathe. Keep me locked within your lovely hands and you give me wings."
Damn the debut. I would go. I would not disappoint Renée. But it would do me no good. I would see no one else. I didn't care if it wasn't proper. How could I refuse him? How could I, knowing that it was what I wanted, too.
And, if he was busy courting me, then he was not on his way to the recruiter's office.
A/N: Hello readers! Good God I've hit a good time to post. 140 something hits within one day and 8 favorites! Thank you! Please review. Reviews keep me posting. I'm pursuing a writing-related major so any criticism or suggestions are more than welcome! If you think I'm a complete nutter, you can let me know that, too. Sticks and stones and all that. Also, if there's a Beta out there without an author – Look at me! Here I am!
About this chapter: When Carlisle tells Bella about his turning Edward, he emphasizes the determination in Mrs. Masen's demands of him. As we all know, Edward is an extremely stubborn vampire and has a gift of reading people. What with how Renesme turned out, I figured Edward must have inherited his gifts from someone. So, while I organize my mind, the purpose of this chapter is to give us Elizabeth Masen – a woman I imagine to have been very sure of herself, very good at reading the people around her (though not like her son) and proper, but with a twist. Most intelligent people have one or two of those, as well. As for why we're not hearing news on the radio – the first news program was not broadcast until 1920, and radio had yet to be commercialized. Newspapers were in their prime.
I would like to have at least 20 reviews before I post past chapter six. That's four reviews per chapter. After seeing how many hits I've gotten I'd love to hear your opinions. Those of you who have favorited or reviewed this story have received (I think, anyway) a thank you from me. Keep reading!
