Title: Scandalous
Summary: When he asked for her hand, she refused him. Now a scandal throws her on his mercy, will he marry her or leave her to her fate? Will she let him?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Twilight.
Author's Note: It's a little late, so sorry about that. It's also a little longer than normal, so hopefully that evens out. I would have posted on time (promise!) but my bf is quitting smoking and I was busy all day making sure he didn't cave and buy a pack. I don't know if any of you smoke or know someone who does, but nicotine addiction is pretty hard to break. Here's to hoping he'll be over the hump soon!
Chapter Five: Going Out
It was to her horror that Bella realized, through the medium of her mother, that attending the Cullen's party would require a new dress. The season was changing and though she had not grown in height since the previous year, her figure had changed enough that last year's dresses were simply not appropriate.
When Renee casually mentioned over breakfast the morning after Edward's invitation that a trip to the dressmaker was in order, Bella's face had paled at the terrible realization.
She was excited about going clothes shopping.
As Renee waxed on about what length sleeve would be most appropriate, and whether that new, tufted fabric she'd seen Rosalie Hale wearing last week might be available, Bella tried to console herself with logic.
She'd been secluded in her home for weeks now. She had few visitors and almost nothing to do to pass the time. Really, a trip outside anywhere would be exciting. That it happened to be to the dressmaker's shop was inconsequential.
Out of duty to her own reputation she managed to feign indifference for the remainder of the meal. She looked appropriately pained as Renee asked for her opinion on color choice—her mother preferred red, she suggested brown—and shared her customary indulgent glance at her father as Renee ignored her suggestion almost entirely and went off on a tangent on the merits of orange.
Her play acting at normal was successful, and Renee seemed non-the-wiser as she dragged her seemingly reluctant daughter to the dressmaker.
*S*S*S*S*S*
"Mrs. Swan! Good morning, what are you . . ." old Mrs Cope trailed off as Renee stepped into the shop and Bella emerged behind her. The old woman's pleasant facial expression failed her for a moment, though she tried to cover it. "What can I do for you today?"
Bella noticed her particular emphasis on the word 'you' and cringed. This was what she had forgotten in her excitement to be out and about in town.
If Renee noticed the moment she gave no sign, her enthusiasm obvious as she answered the shopkeeper's question.
"We need a dress of course! My Bella here has a ball to attend to and absolutely nothing to wear! I'm thinking something bright, perhaps with that new fabric—"
Bella turned from her mother as the bell above the door rang.
Lauren Mallory and her mother entered. Great.
Bella busied herself looking at a dress in the window. If had ruffles, lots of ruffles, and was, in her humble opinion, hideous. Still, she fingered the lace edging and tried to look thoughtful.
Through the window she caught a glimpse of Carlisle Cullen's office and turned away.
*S*S*S*S*S*
An hour later Bella had forgotten why she had ever thought this outing might be nice. She was on a small platform near the rear of the shop, dressed in a stifling number of layers. After much debate she'd disavowed Renee of the idea she would ever, ever wear an orange gown. It had taken far too much energy and a snide comment from Lauren, who was unfortunately also perched on a platform at the rear of the shop and insisted that orange was totally Bella's color, to finally convince Renee.
The entire time they'd been going over dress forms and shape options Bella had been subjected to a stream of pointed comments from the Mallory's. A neckline that didn't fit correctly when she first tried it was said to be 'fitting' on Bella, but much to revealing for Lauren. Modesty, after all, was important.
It took everything in her not to snort at that statement. Of all the ways she could think to describe Lauren Mallory—vain, nasty, squinty-eyed—modest was not one that came to mind.
Bella was growing certain that once she finally got home she would stay there. No more of this venturing out nonsense.
"This color is just perfect for you dear, it really brings out your beautiful blue eyes." Mrs. Mallory was ruffling the pink lace attached to her daughter's ample chest, but her eyes slide sideways to watch Bella's reaction as she spoke.
She had really underestimated the wonderful side effects of being a social pariah. As Lauren's screechy voice grated against her skull she wondered if maybe she ought to try to increase her status.
She was already not invited to parties. Well, except for the Cullen's. She had few visitors, really only Angela Webber and the Cullens. She'd ceased to get mail, well, unless you counted the invitation hand delivered by Edward Cullen.
Darn Cullen's. They were interfering with what could be such a happy banishment.
"What do you think Mrs Cope, isn't this color just lovely on my Lauren?"
"Oh, it's beautiful dear, so flattering." Mrs Cope drew a breath in as if to keep her praises going, but the bell chiming on the door drew her attention to the front of the shop.
Bella, lost in day dreams of ostracizing herself further from the townsfolk so as to avoid moments like this, also looked up.
Straight into the eyes of Edward Cullen.
*S*S*S*S*S*
Edward was having an off day. He'd slept poorly, woken late, and nearly run into the Mallory's on his way into the office. If it hadn't been for Lauren's signature screechy, off-pitch giggling echoing loudly down the street he'd never have ducked into the general store in time to avoid being spotted.
As it stood, though he'd avoided he disaster of either Mallory woman's company, he'd been even later to work than necessary and had received for his troubles a frown from Carlisle. It was not excessive penance, he knew, but with a father like his it was enough to leave him feeling properly chastised and unreliable.
All these things combined to a general attitude of what someone other than he might have labeled 'mopey.' When Esme inquired as she visited mid-morning, he declared himself tired and then tried to look appropriately sleepy to justify his mood.
He faked one yawn and slouched a bit to drive the point home.
"Oh hello dear, what brings you in this morning?" Carlisle greeted his wife with an affectionate smile and a kiss on the cheek when he came out into the lobby and spotted her speaking with Edward.
"What, can't a woman visit her husband without ulterior motives?"
"Oh of course she can! And as a husband who knows his wife, let me guess," he winked at her, "something at Newton's?"
Esme laughed. Newton's general store was just down the street, only two stores away, and she often visited the office when she was shopping nearby.
"Close," she conceded, glancing between the two men as she flipped open a hand fan. "I'm actually here to pick up Alice's dress for the Mallory's ball. Mrs. Cope sent a note that it was finished yesterday. Oh but now I am dreading carrying all that heavy fabric in this heat."
Edward, still feeling the vague guilt of disappointing Carlisle that morning with his tardiness, sprung to his feet. "I can fetch it for you, why don't you rest here. I can be there and back before the next appointment comes in."
Esme smiled widely at him. "Oh, my sweet boy that would be wonderful."
Producing a small square of paper she handed it to him. "Just take this to Mrs. Cope, everything is already settled so all you need do is pick up the dress itself."
With a nod Edward was out the door and across the street.
It really was hot, he noticed, opening the door to the shop with one hand. His other rose to his collar to pull the material away from his throat.
A faint ringing sound echoed and announced his arrival, and following the sounds of speech and rustling fabric Edward's eyes sought the old shopkeep in the back of the room.
Only his gaze was stolen not by the pale eyes of Mrs Cope, but by the deep chocolate of Bella Swan. She was standing taller than normal and drapped in a royal blue fabric mess that brought out the pale, even color of her soft looking skin. A young girl stood on the ground behind her, fiddling with the long strings of her bodice.
Releasing his collar abruptly, Edward gulped once, his eyes roaming over the pale skin visible around all the loose edges of the blue dress. It was too big, and not fitted properly, and it showed more skin at that moment than properly intended.
With a jerk backwards that must, he realized some minutes later, have been the assistant tightening the bodice, Bella was pulled from her daze and off her feet.
With more speed than he would have thought possible—had he time to think at all—Edward crossed the shop and caught her as she fell.
One foot did not clear the platform , and so she tipped unevenly, landing heavily in his arms with her face crushed to his chest. His right arm caught her around the ribs, his arm bent so as to cradle her head against him. His left hooked lower, around her waist with his arm on the middle of her back.
It was this hand which first told him the most important fact in his current world:
His hand was touching skin. A lot of skin.
*S*S*S*S