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 Four: Debut

The morning came and with it a strange feeling of elation. For once in my life I felt like I fit in with society's idea of women. I was in love, I was young, and I had a closet full of dresses I didn't need – that part I could care less of.

I reread Edward's note to me and decided that today would be spent how I liked. I would go to the library and study. If I happened to come across Edward, wonderful. If I did not… well, the day would be much gloomier, but I would survive.

"What do you want to do today, Miss?" asked Kate. As usual, I had woken too late to help her with anything.

"Actually, I thought I'd go to the library. It's not far and I can go on my own if you're busy." Kate looked at me a little thoughtfully.

"I'll take you there meself and do my errands while you read. I can't let you go by yourself, Miss."

I sighed, my feeble attempt at winning a little more freedom thwarted.

Half an hour later, I left our row house in a walking dress and newly shined boots, courtesy Kate, of course. Today the cold had dissipated just a little more, though the wind still slapped at my face and blew my skirt around me as I walked up the street.

The library was a magnificent improvement to my tiny collection of books back home. Inside, a librarian gave me an account and a schedule for readings and book club meetings. There was even a sewing machine class on Fridays designed to help young ladies. I pointedly stuffed the pamphlet into the little purse I carried.

"Miss, I must be off to the market for our supper. Stay out of trouble and don't wander and I shall be back within an hour, alright Miss?"

Kate was looking over a little list with a frown and I smiled, squeezing her hand.

"I'll be fine, Kate, go ahead. I'll be here so just look for me in one of the reading areas."

Kate bustled off and I frowned, feeling guilty when I saw the threadbare hem of her shawl and the poor state of her boots. I would put one of my dresses (none of which I really needed) in her armoire tonight, whether she liked it or not. And a pair of boots.

I scowled as I walked through the aisles, and became increasingly aggravated that I could not force myself to focus on the titles I read and reread.

In my mind, Edward's face, his words, and the evil black newsprint I had read last night kept resurfacing.

I finally sighed and turned, leaning against the shelf in frustration as I looked through the window out at the street. Chicago was much too gloomy for me. Give me sunshine, God, please, I prayed.

"Miss Swan!"

I jumped and whirled, knocking over a cart of books to be stacked in the process. Michael Newton laughed, his light eyes full of mirth as I scrambled to pick up the fallen volumes. Someone shushed us from a few aisles over.

"I see your coordination hasn't improved any," he said, stooping to help.

I glared at my toes, not answering, feeling a little insulted by him. I didn't know what Charlie had against him, but I had decided for myself: Mike Newton was not on my Christmas list.

I hurried to finish putting the books on the narrow wrack and ended up knocking more off. Michael caught my hand and held it.

"Let me. You just sit and enjoy the view, Miss Swan."

Truly? Was I imagining this nonsense?

What was it about Chicago that made all the men go mad? No one in Tinley Park had paid me half as much attention.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Newton," I managed as he straightened. He looked at me strangely. I didn't like it.

"A pleasure to help you, Miss Swan." I turned to leave and winced when I felt a hand catch my arm and hold it too tightly. I gave it a firm tug, trying to break free.

"Is there something you want, Mr. Newton?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Several things do I want, Miss Swan, but I was just wondering if all the buzz about your debut is true. Even Mayor Thompson's daughter didn't have one."

"I don't see how that is any of your business, Mr. Newton. If you'll excuse me."

I made it just past aisle four when I felt fingers brush me again. I reeled, my purse in my left hand, ready to beat Michael Newton's stupid face till it bled –

"Ow! Bella, really, it's not nice to hit people."

"Edward!" My voice raised an octave and earned me another "shush" from an unknown location. He chuckled and I started again in a whisper.

"What are you doing here? You surprised me!"

"To read, silly girl, what else does one come to a library for?"

"Oh, I thought…"

"And to assail pretty girls between the shelves, of course," he said with a wink. I giggled, blushing scarlet. "But why did you try to clog me with your purse? I didn't take you for a violent woman, Miss Bella."

I chewed my lip, wondering how he would react to Michael Newton's treatment of me. Not well, probably.

"Bella, you're driving me insane. Please tell me what you're thinking? I can see your emotions play across your face but I can't come up with the slightest reason why they're there."

"Why must I tell you what I'm thinking? Brains are private places, don't you know."

"Even if that's so, usually I can guess what people are thinking… but not you. It's extremely intriguing. Other girls I've spoken to are painfully obvious about every little thing that pops into their heads. Either that or they lack a filter between brain and mouth. You, on the other hand, Bella Swan, are an enigma. I find I'm quite drawn to the mystery."

I absorbed that for a moment and decided I'd rather tell him than think about the "other girls" he must have known.

"Michael Newton startled me and made me turn over a book cart."

"Mike Newton?" Edward seemed disturbed by the knowledge. How strange.

"And he helped me clean up, of course, but then when I was leaving he asked me about my debut and I told him to butt out and-"

"Bella, Bella, I'm confused. Why would that motivate you to hit me?"

Edward seemed on the verge of laughing, though the confusion he spoke of was evident in his perfect eyes.

"He's rude and obnoxious and incorrigible, that's all. I was planning on beating him for having the nerve to touch me again but-"

"Again?" Edward sounded alarmed. His hands took mine and held them to his heart. "Bella you mustn't let him get too close to you, do you understand me? When did he try to touch you before?"

"He grabbed my arm after I dismissed him, before he asked about the party." I didn't want to say my party. I wouldn't be having one if it were up to me. Edward looked angry. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, reaching up and smoothing my fingertip across his brow. His beautiful emerald eyes widened and I blushed, quickly pulling my hand back to rest innocently at my side.

"Why are you upset?" I asked softly, looking down.

"I… Bella, I must ask you to keep a secret. I don't want to scare you. I just think considering your… acquaintance-" Edward scowled so violently I was a little scared "-you should be aware."

Edward lowered his voice to a whisper and took my hand again, leading me to an armchair tucked in the corner of the library. He sat across from me on a ladder, running a hand through his gorgeously messy hair.

"This past winter, Mike Newton was courting Jessica Stanley. Mr. Stanley is a local merchant and owns quite a bit of the shipping yard. Miss Stanley hasn't had any other suitors and was delighted when Newton asked her to accompany him to the opera. Sometime that evening, Newton separated Miss Stanley from her chaperone, apparently under the pretense that she had said to go ahead. Newton became a little… over-amorous-" Edward said the word with heavy sarcasm, looking away. "-And when the chaperone finally found Miss Stanley, she was in tears and had suffered a great loss."

I gasped, my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide.

"John Lucas Newton, Michael's father, came to my father that night begging him to help defend his son in the resulting lawsuit. Of course Miss. Stanley's parents pressed charges. She is most fortunate that the media didn't get a hold of it or her reputation would have been smeared indefinitely.

"Father agreed, reluctantly, to build a case so that Michael Newton would escape the death penalty. Back when they were boys, John Newton pulled Father out of a well, you see. My father's defense was so good, however, that Michael also escaped incarceration. The jury deemed that beyond Miss Stanley's word, there was no concrete evidence of any… crime… actually occurring. Father hasn't spoken to either Newton since. The Stanley's hate us, of course. That is what Father regrets the most – that for once, he could not serve justice."

A long pause passed between us and I chewed my lip some more, staring at my hands. It felt as if I had swallowed a piece of ice whole.

"That's… awful," I said finally, my shoulders slumped. Poor Jessica Stanley. Poor Mr. Masen. Poor John Newton to know his son had done something so heinous.

Edwards long fingertips brushed my cheek and I felt flames erupt from the spot. His thumb slid over my abused lower lip and I shivered slightly, my eyes entranced by his.

"I worry you'll chew it off. I worry that I've distressed you, Miss Swan," he said in a velvet murmur, barely above a whisper. "Please know, Miss Swan… Nothing can harm you while you are with me. I couldn't let it, not ever. I would die first."

I leaned into his touch as it grew firmer and cradled my cheek. Edward's fingers slid across my jaw line to cup my chin, lifting slightly. He leaned toward me, his emerald depths smoldering beneath the dark fringe of lashes. His perfect mouth grew closer…

"ISABELLA SWAN! WHAT IN THE BLESSED MOTHER'S NAME ARE YOU DOING!"

Both of us jumped apart. I registered knocking over the little end table beside the armchair as Kate, laden with grocery baskets, stormed toward me, her red hair frizzed beneath her cap and her face ruddy with anger.

I stood and stared at my feet, my own face as drained of color as Edwards must have been. I clenched my hands together to stop them shaking. Charlie would murder me upon hearing this. Mrs. Masen would be so disappointed.

"Please, Miss Kate, it wasn't what it looked like… Well… actually it was exactly what it looked like, but I can explain. You see, Bella was distraught and I-"

But the murderous glint in Kate's eye silenced him as she turned on him, her tiny finger shoved against his breast pocket.

"And you, cheeky devil that you are, I'll flog you within an inch of your life if I see you near my wee Miss before her debut. You hear me? Out, out with you. To church with you! Oh, you're a lucky lad I'm too kindly to tell your poor mother! The nerve of young people! Off with you!" Kate shook her fist at him, poking him in the chest and backing him towards the door.

I hid my face in my hands, feeling the acute desire to disappear into the marble floor. Some girls giggled behind gloved hands in the main reading area. Oh, to be invisible would be a blessing, I think.

The rest of the evening, Kate glared at me. A lot. And muttered to herself a lot. She said a lot about the Blessed Virgin, too, but I couldn't help but be angry with her for interrupting what could have been. Improper or not, a kiss from Edward Masen would have been the highlight of a very depressing year.

Charlie came home at half-past four, sat down to dinner at five, and put down his fork at five-thirty to look across the table at me.

"So, Bella, how was your day?"

I almost kissed a boy, today, Charlie.

"I went to the library, Father. It's lovely. Kate ran some errands then we came home."

"Is that all? Did you think about your debut at all? Have you decided whom to invite?"

"I think Mother made a list. I'll go get the invitations printed tomorrow."

"Good girl. It is the 27th already, isn't it? You'll have to pull it together by when? It's on the 7th isn't it?"

A sinking feeling overtook me.

"I think so, yes."

"Well. You'd better get a move on then, shouldn't you?"

After dinner, Kate and I cleared the table. She was still grumbling under her breath. But before I could get more frustrated with her she pushed a box at me.

"You'll address those before bed, and I had better hear you saying your prayers before you sleep, Missy."

She kissed my cheek and smoothed my hair before going upstairs to bed.

I opened the box and felt Renée's absence hit me like an avalanche. The heavy invites screamed Renée so loudly I wondered how Charlie couldn't hear. They were heavy white cotton paper, wildflowers pressed into the sheets to create a soft, pretty texture. A piece of vellum was sewn on each card with a little bow at the top, and the invitation itself was printed on this. The envelopes were tied in a neat stack inside the box as well. I sighed and pulled the address book from a kitchen cabinet.

The morning of my debut came too quickly. True to her word, Kate had not once allowed Edward Masen to come within five feet of me during the eleven days between our encounter at the library and April 7th. The most I had seen of him had been in passing on the other side of the street. But for every day that I had not been able to speak to Edward, there had been a note. Once it was tied in the creeping ivy that wove its way up the house and past my window. Another time there had been a paper rose on my windowsill. Then a paper heart had been slipped into the tiny crack between the windowpanes.

Last night, a lock of bronze hair, tied with a dainty white ribbon, had been left on the sill in a tiny folded paper box. It wasn't until this morning that I discovered that the box itself had been the note and it joined the others in my dresser drawer.

But for now, I could do nothing bus think about my lonely week. Kate had me all but tied to the chair before my vanity. The dress Mrs. Masen had ordered for me was draped across my bed, perfect and far too luxurious, and beyond unnecessary. I wondered why Mrs. Masen hadn't simply suggested to Charlie that Edward and I be betrothed. It was common enough.

"Remember, Miss, that you shouldn't give more than two dances to any partner until you've danced with everyone."

"Yes, Kate."

"And I don't want to see you dancing only with Mr. Masen after that, too, do you understand?"

I glared at the floor but nodded.

I hated social etiquette. After this business was over I would buy a pair of trousers and wear them all over town. Edward certainly wouldn't mind.

"This is your formal introduction to Chicago society so I hope you will be on your best behavior, Miss Swan," she said. She sounded teary eyed.

"Yes, this is the polite way of saying 'here I am, look at my bust. Look at my face. Look at my lovely arms. Don't I look like the perfect bride?'"

Kate promptly swatted my back for it, of course.

Six O'clock came and went. Kate said it was the guest of honor's privilege to be "fashionably late". My heart thrummed in my chest as Charlie, dressed in his best suit and looking positively miserable, handed me out of the rented Detroiter Touring car. My lace-gloved hand gripped the door hard as I stepped down from the red leather seat. I carefully placed my heeled foot on the ground as a valet took my free hand, and then it was only a few steps to the dreaded debut.

The Atlantic, previously known as the Kaiserhof, was lit up like Christmas. A green velvet carpet had been rolled out of the grand foyer to the curb. A few photographers from the newspapers made me stop for a photo or two. They were always so prompt about reporting the latest social event… Too bad they couldn't do much else truthfully.

The winter garden had been transformed to accommodate a small stage for a pianist. The main ballroom was already swinging with bodies. The classic waltz slowly melted away as I was led in. My father grimaced as someone took a photo. A flashbulb cracked underfoot as I made my way in, and before I could get my bearings, I was whisked into a dance. The little orchestra on stage whipped the guests into frenzy – me along with them.

I was passed from boy to boy, not remembering the faces. My skirt was trodden on a couple of times and I couldn't tell whether my partner or I did the treading. Two things stood out in my mind: the impossibility of staying on my feet for the next four hours, and the fact that I had yet to feel the pair of hands I needed.

"Bella Swan, what a surprise!"

I looked into the face of my current dance partner and blanched. I hadn't seen Tyler Crowly since I attended the clapboard school back in Tinly Park.

"Tyler… I thought you were engaged to Lauren. What are you doing here?"

"I received an invitation of course," he said, sweeping me off the dance floor. We stopped near one of the buffets. A waiter in a vest offered me champagne and I refused why Tyler pulled out one of the invitations. Funny I couldn't remember writing one to him.

"You came all the way from Tinly Park?"

"No…" his smile faltered and he looked a little uncomfortable.

"I was here already… Angela sent me to give you this."

Tyler pulled an ivory envelope from his shirt pocket and gave it to me. Angela's neat script was a welcome sight. I read through it once, twice, three times.

"She's… married..? And pregnant?"

"Yes! Isn't it exciting? That trip she took to her aunt's wasn't to her aunt's! She and Eric eloped and she's expecting."

"I'm a little miffed that she didn't tell me she was going to... elope."

"Well, there you have it. I just figured, since I was here and since you were having a party… I got the invitation from my brother. He couldn't come, obviously."

There was an awkward silence in which Tyler looked at me and I stared at my shoes.

"You look really beautiful, Bella. I wish-"

But whatever he wished fell on deaf ears. I pushed past him, grinning ear-to-ear, to run into the waiting arms of my angel. Edward was glorious in a tuxedo. The music changed and he took my hand in his, sliding my left to his shoulder, his hand traveling down my side, leaving fiery trails over my ribcage before coming to rest at my waist.

"Miss Bella you look utterly indecent, tonight," he whispered as he pulled me closer to his chest. I followed his lead; his strong hands guided me and I found that tripping was no longer a problem.

"Funny… Because it's your mother that picked this outfit for me," I said, blushing at his words.

"Hmmm… Mother has always played dirty whenever she wants something," he laughed and I frowned slightly. "But that doesn't matter anymore… If I were to defy her now I would also defy that which my heart vehemently insists."

My own heart stuttered in my chest, beating a rapid tattoo against my ribs. I wondered if he could hear.

"Miss Swan?"

"Yes, Mr. Masen?"

I looked into his glowing eyes and felt myself pulled in again.

"May I have the pleasure of courting you henceforth?"

I felt intoxicated. The scent of him and the sound of his voice and the warmth of his hands on me left me drunk. All I could manage was one word.

"Yes."

A/N: Hello readers! Thank you, those of you who reviewed and favorited.

About this chapter: Until the early 1900's, it was common for young ladies to have a social debut. This is, of course, the origin of the word "debutante." It is also the origin of the modern sweet sixteen. At this point in 1917 Bella's life, she is 16 and a half, give or take a few weeks. Her party was delayed because of her mother's illness and the fact that she was not yet living in Chicago. This is the car Bella arrives in: .

And this is the hotel: .

As always, please review. Please let me know what you think. I'll finish it for my own pleasure but to post it is for yours. Let me know how you're enjoying it.

Happy reading!

-Forensica X