Good Morning, Lovelies!

Thank you so much to Mel and Pamela!

XV

BELLA

4 August 1897

The Suez Canal, Egypt

Despite the terrible seasickness that has plagued me for the past several weeks, every morning that I wake on this miserable boat is a blessing.

I cannot be certain I am pregnant—though Edward and I have certainly done our best to rectify that. I feel as though I am caught on the edge of a blade, waiting to see which way I will fall.

Our voyage through the Mediterranean was smooth—according to the crew and my husband. I've never made this exact journey, though we have passed many places I've been to before.

Edward has booked us passage on a ship that will make a twenty-eight day trip between Italy and India. We have barely started, and I'm already learning that a lifetime at sea will not be for me.

Thankfully, Edward has been able to secure a cabin for us, so most of my misery is hidden from view of the rest of the passengers.

"Bella," Edward murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to my shoulder. I've been napping most days, trying to ride out the nausea through sleep. "Love, we're approaching the final bypass."

My eyes open slowly, and immediately, I'm dizzy. I groan lightly and turn on the small bed to look at Edward. He is perched next to me, his bright eyes dark in the dimly lit cabin. Our accommodations are tight, barely squeezing in enough space for the bed and our luggage. Edward tells me it's the largest aside from the captain's quarters. I can't imagine how much worse it would be to be crammed into a smaller space.

Edward offers me a hand, and I take it, allowing him to pull me upright. When I'm stable enough, I rise from the bed and follow him out of our cabin.

Above deck, most of the passengers and crew have gathered. The canal, being still young in its operation, does not allow for ships to pass each other, apart from the bypasses built in. It has been a slow journey through the canal, though I know it is far preferable to sailing all the way around Africa.

The fresh air helps to clear some of the dizziness from my mind, and I shut my eyes, sucking in a deep lungful of hot, dry air. It is almost unbearably hot, which is why most of the passengers spend their time below deck, and though I can feel sweat gathering under my many layers, I take a moment to bask in the sun.

It's become a way to pass the time—to wander up to the deck and wave to passing vessels as we wait in the bypass. Though it's silly, I do find myself enjoying joining in.

The ship coming toward us is roughly the same size as our barque, though Edward helps me identify the ship as a French vessel rather than British.

We lift handkerchiefs in the air and wave to each other as the ships crawl past.

Edward winds an arm around my waist as I lift my own kerchief and let it fly through the air.

"Where do you think they are coming from?" I ask, glancing at Edward.

He shrugs. "Any number of places, I suppose. Though if I had to wager a guess, I would suspect French Somaliland," he explains.

I lift my wrist up to wave again.

Behind us, several miles inland, lies the great city of Cairo. We can't see the pyramids from here though I briefly dream of taking Edward there one day. The last time I saw them, construction was just beginning in the ancient world.

"It is remarkable, isn't it?" Edward asks, drawing my attention to him.

I look up at him curiously, and he motions before us. "On one side, a crumbling empire; on the other, an ancient world being built back up by the British."

"Built back up or manhandled," I mutter, turning to look at the Egyptian shores. I feel Edward look at me, and I turn back to him. "Sometimes, I wonder what the world would be without the British strongarm of progress."

Edward frowns. "The empire has brought civilization to millions around the world," he protests.

I sigh. "Whose definition of civilization?" I challenge. "All those places had people thriving in their own ways for thousands of years before the British came in and forced them to conform." I shake my head. "Not everyone marks progress in silk top hats and lace parasols." Immediately, I regret how harsh I'm being. I've had a lifetime of seeing numerous countries consume other cultures, and while the British Empire is one of the largest culprits, I know this is not unique to them. It is the nature of humanity to force change without discrimination.

"I've never considered that," Edward says slowly. "Perhaps you are onto something."

I glance at him in shock. My husband has been well educated, and what is more, he has shown a remarkable degree of tolerance. I wonder sometimes, what it will be like when I finally confide in him the truth of who I am. Will he accept my words? Or will he think me mad?

I'm not yet brave enough to find out, so I keep the confession to myself.

I turn in his arms, and he looks at me in surprise. "You've a good heart," I tell him, before lifting up onto my toes to kiss him. It's improper to display such affection in public, but I honestly don't care.

I can feel his surprise in the brief rigidity in his posture before his arms sink completely around me and he holds me to him.

We break apart far too quickly for my taste, and Edward has a boyish grin on his face.

I'm getting too much sun out on deck, and before the ship has even passed us, Edward is helping me climb back down to our cabin. The tight walls make me feel claustrophobic, and I'm immediately dizzy again, so I settle on the bed. To my surprise, Edward lies down with me, holding me in his arms.

Though I'm nauseous and miserable, Edward's presence makes it all just a tiny bit better.

10 August 1897

The Red Sea

I miss the relatively calm waters of the Suez Canal.

The Red Sea is tumultuous. The crew has told tales that the sea is known for the frequent stiff north wind blowing that helps with the travel south, but of course since our arrival, we've dealt exclusively with a south wind. Our progress is slow, and though I should be used to the wave patterns of the sea by now, I'm not. I can barely keep any meals down, and I feel more weak than I've ever been in my life.

I can see that I'm worrying Edward, and despite my best efforts, my reassurances aren't enough to placate him.

It does occur to me that my nausea could be the symptom of pregnancy rather than the sea. I haven't had a period since my arrival in London over a month ago, though admittedly, my periods have never been something reliable. Without any sense of true time for my body, I've never been able to predict my cycle.

But with each passing morning that I wake on this dreaded ship, I grow more and more convinced that I am with child.

Though this was my plan since eloping with Edward, I find myself still mildly terrified at the idea of being a mother.

What I wouldn't give to see my own maman, to seek her advice and guidance.

I know nothing about parenting.

Since thinking about it makes me even dizzier, I resolve myself to push the thoughts away until we are safely in India, on land.

Edward tries to have me take walks around the deck three times a day for my constitution. It doesn't do much to help, but I want to make him think he's aiding in some way, so I don't complain.

"That land is part of the Ottoman Empire," Edward tells me one day when we are out for our afternoon walk. I gaze at the eastern shore he has just motioned toward. "Under the Sultan Abdul Hamid the second."

"Have you met him?" I ask, looking up at him.

Edward looks surprised by my question before he barks out a short laugh.

"My dear, though I am certainly well connected, even I have not met any sultans," he says, tsking in a way that makes me smile.

I grin and turn back to shore. "I have." I sigh, and whether he doesn't believe me, or whether the wind has carried off my words, I don't know.

The sun is brutal overhead, and though I have a parasol to hide under, I can feel myself starting to melt in the summer heat.

We are about to turn to head back below deck when a sailor rushes behind us. I look up surprised to see the sailor appears frantic as he races up to the uppermost deck, seeking the captain.

"I wonder what is the matter," I say, getting Edward's attention. He turns to see what I'm talking about then shrugs.

We are near enough the uppermost deck that it isn't hard to creep closer and overhear the heated discussion.

"Ready the crew," the captain says, his voice tight with his anxiety. "Get the passengers below deck. Someone needs to secure the sails." He is barking orders, and I exchange a surprised look with Edward.

"Aye, captain!" the crew call, snapping into action.

"Excuse me," Edward says, stopping a crewman rushing past us. "What's happening?"

The crewman looks at us before his eyes flicker to the horizon behind us. "Sandstorm is coming," he says, his voice tinged with fear. "Return to your cabin. You'll be safe."

I don't hesitate. I know how vicious sandstorms can be, and I don't want to be anywhere near one. I yank Edward below deck. There is a frenzy from the passengers as they begin to pick up on the worried energy of the crew. I force myself to concentrate on making it to our cabin.

When we finally arrive, I have Edward close the door. "Take the sheets," I tell him, reaching for a scarf in my bag. "Place them around the edges of the door. Anywhere sand might enter."

Edward looks alarmed. "Surely sand couldn't get down here?"

I look at him as I work to wedge the scarf around the small port window in our room. It's well sealed on the outside, but I don't want to risk it.

"Sandstorms are vicious," I tell him. "They could wear this ship down to nothing if they last long enough." I finish with the window and turn to help him with the door. "It's unlikely the sand will make it this far into the ship, but I don't want to chance it."

Edward nods and helps me block up every nook and cranny. When our room is secured, we both turn our attention to the port window. Outside, the once bright blue sky is turning red with the incoming storm.

Edward wraps an arm around me, and I glance up at his face. "It looks as if the world might end," he says quietly.

I let out a breath. "Just another storm," I murmur. "This one, too, will pass."

17 August 1897

The Gulf of Arden

I could cry when Edward tells me it's time to get back aboard. We've docked in a port of French Somaliland for the ship to restock, and Edward and I have taken the opportunity to get decent food and a comfortable bed for the night. I knew our time ashore was temporary, but I am unprepared for how hesitant I am to get back on board our ship.

"It's only a week more," Edward tells me gently, guiding me through the docks. "Just one more week on the water, then we will be in Bombay and the rest of our travel will be via train."

I let out a long sigh but allow him to tug me forward. I find it ironic that I have suffered so much the last few weeks, given the history of my life and the other, much more extreme ways I've traveled.

The truth is, despite the night ashore, my nausea hasn't left me, leaving me wondering if it is after all pregnancy plaguing me. I haven't let myself believe it just yet though, and I won't stop holding my breath until I know for certain.

Until then, I'm horribly aware that any time I close my eyes, I could be ripped away from Edward and the life we are trying to build together.

Despite how I've come to loathe traveling by sea, there is some part of me that feels comforted to see our small cabin once again. This bed, cramped and musty in a much too small cabin, has been the place we've spent the most time together so far.

I try to keep that perspective over the next week as we continue our voyage.

24 August 1897

Bombay, India

The bay of Bombay is surprisingly crowded, full of ships coming and going. Despite the land we can see from aboard our vessel, it takes nearly all day to finally dock.

As one of the ship's First Class crew, we're permitted to disembark first amongst the passengers. It's a small luxury I'm grateful for as soon as my feet find solid ground. Now that we won't be on a ship, I can pray that my nausea will finally subside.

Edward leads me through a crowded dock while porters bring our bags ahead. Despite the wealth of my husband, I keep my small gem bag on my body, flush against my skin, just in case.

"Mr. Masen?"

For a moment, I have forgotten the name we are traveling under, and it doesn't occur to me that the voice is addressing Edward until my husband responds. "Yes, that is me."

I jerk to a stop at his side as he speaks to a tall narrow man with salt and pepper hair. I glance at Edward and he gives me a warm smile. "My wife, Mrs. Masen."

The man offers me a deep bow, and I barely remember to give him a courtesy curtsy in response.

"If you follow me, sir, I can help you get set up for the evening before your voyage begins tomorrow morning."

Edward nods. "Yes, very good."

Though Edward is reasonably sure that we are out of the reach of his father, he has decided to travel under an assumed identity until we reach his uncle's house. I wish Liam were here to get a giggle out of Edward calling himself by his best friend's surname.

Edward and I are led to a brightly colored ornate carriage that stands out in sharp contrast against the dingy streets of Bombay. It is the only vehicle of its kind to be seen, and I feel slightly self conscious as I climb in. Edward follows me, and we settle in as our luggage is loaded onto the coach.

"I cannot wait to sleep in an actual bed again," I say, yawning. Apart from the one night on shore that we got about a week ago, I haven't been able to stretch out on a comfortable mattress in so long.

Edward gives me a small smile. "I know what you mean," he agrees. "Only three more days and then we will be at our destination."

I want to groan but stop myself. "Have you heard back from your uncle?"

Edward shakes his head and we both lurch slightly as the carriage starts up. "No, though I know that he will be happy to receive us."

I take a breath. "He's your father's younger brother?" I ask, clarifying.

Edward nods. "Yes. My father has a sister as well, though she's in America scandalizing the family name." He rolls his eyes and I grin.

"Let me guess, is she an artist?" I ask.

"An aspiring actress, actually." He chuckles. "Though I do not know that she has done anything more than infiltrate high levels of American society and drink away her portion of the family fortune."

"Do you dislike her?" I ask, a little surprised.

"No, I actually like her quite a lot," he says, looking at me. "Had my uncle been unable to receive us, I might have suggested going to America to stay with her."

I wince when I think about the prospect of traveling by ship across the Atlantic, and it seems as if Edward is reading my mind because he smiles and winds an arm around my shoulders.

I lean into his embrace, turning my head to peek out the window of the carriage.

I have been to this city once before, though later it will be known as Mumbai. I don't recognize much, but I enjoy the sights as we pass nonetheless.

Our carriage takes us to a very European-looking neighborhood, where most of the faces walking around are pale. I wonder where in the city we are.

Edward helps me out of the carriage and guides me up the steps of a posh-looking hotel. Inside, the foyer is bright with accents of jungle green and gold leaf. It is a colonized version of India, and I find myself itching to leave and explore the real country beyond this neighborhood.

Edward excuses himself to check us in, and I give myself permission to wander the lobby, examining the portraits on the walls. Queen Victoria hangs on one wall, her late husband Prince Albert beside her. I cannot help but note how much happier she looks in the portrait than the woman I caught glimpses of at the ball.

I think about the queen who will spend the rest of her life mourning her lost love, and my heart aches.

"Love?"

I turn to see Edward waiting for me, his hand extended in my direction. I move to his side, taking his hand in mine before letting go and slipping my arm through his.

"Are you well?" he asks as we start to walk.

"Yes," I murmur. "Just trying to get my land legs back."

…

I am too exhausted to properly enjoy Bombay. I can tell Edward wants to get out and explore the city, and I try to urge him to do so without me, but he steadfastly refuses. Instead, he is able to order food to be prepared and brought to our room so that I might be able to eat and fall asleep.

The curries that are brought to our room are warm and deliciously spiced. I have developed a taste for spicy food throughout all my travels, though I cannot say the same for my husband, who is soon beet red and loosening his collar.

I giggle at him as I take another bite of a red curry.

"I do not know how you can stomach it," he jokes, fanning himself.

"I like the pain," I tell him, shrugging one shoulder.

He looks surprised, and I wonder if he is taking my words in any sort of sexual context.

I do not know exactly what I like out of sex, as there is so much that I have yet to try, but I am quite eager to explore things with Edward. Who knows what we might discover over the next lifetime? For now, our sex life has been tame—though undoubtedly satisfying. Only the smallest notions of fantasies have begun to spring up in my mind. I wonder how long it will be before I feel comfortable sharing that part of myself with Edward.

By the time we finish our exquisite dinner, I am sated and sleepy. Edward and I dress for bed even though it is not yet fully dark outside, and we curl up in bed. It is strange to lie down and not feel the rocking of a ship beneath my body, and for a moment, I'm dizzy remembering it.

But then Edward wraps his arms around me, and I cuddle into his warmth, letting out a long, contented sigh.

I am asleep moments later.

28 August 1897

Darjeeling, India

Traveling via train across India has been far more interesting than I could have predicted. I enjoy watching the country race by seeing parts of it that I have never witnessed before. Sleeping on the train proved to be as much of a challenge as sleeping on the boat had initially, and by our final morning, I am eagerly looking forward to being back on solid, unmoving land.

It is a beautiful day as our train climbs north from Calcutta toward Darjeeling where Edward's aunt and uncle live. The closer we draw, the more I can sense excitement coming from Edward at the prospect of being reunited with his family.

The train begins to slow, and Edward eagerly peers out the window. I lean over to look as well, taking in the surprisingly European town. It is much more colorful than any town in England I have ever seen, but there is familiar architecture that can be found in places like London. The train comes to a halting stop, and Edward stands, excited. We gather our personal belongings, leaving our luggage for porters to tend to, and Edward gently guides me off the train. On the platform, he immediately begins straining over the crowd.

I don't know what his uncle looks like, but the moment I spot him, I know he must be who we are searching for. He has Edward's height and build, though his hair is fairer and his skin a touch tanner. He is dressed in blue, and there is a casualness about his smile that puts me immediately at ease.

I tap Edward's arm to get his attention, and when he glances at me, I point toward his uncle. It is heartwarming to see the genuine smile that pulls across my husband's lips.

He moves deftly through the crowd, tugging me along behind him. The moment we reach his uncle, the two men hug, their laughter light and bright.

"Edward, it is so good to see you," his uncle says, squeezing him gently.

"You as well, Uncle," Edward says, stepping back from him. "This is my wife, Bella." Edward looks at me. "Bella, this is my uncle, Carlisle."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, sir," I tell him, dipping into a curtsy.

"My dear, we do not stand on such formalities," he says, tipping his head toward me. "I am so very pleased to meet you. Please call me Carlisle."

I smile at him, relieved by his informality.

Carlisle turns to flag down a porter, and he and Edward begin to chat while they locate our luggage. I stand back, letting them get reacquainted. It is clear from their laughter and the smiles on their faces that both men hold tremendous respect for one another. I've never seen Edward so carefree, except perhaps with Liam.

Once our luggage is located and loaded into Carlisle's coach, we pile in, heading up the mountains toward his home.

"How was your journey?" he asks, looking at us.

"It was fine," Edward says, nodding once. "Though the sea did not agree with Bella."

Carlisle looks at me in concern and I wave a hand, shaking my head. "It's fine," I insist. "I'm better now." It is mostly the truth.

Edward fills Carlisle in on most of the details of our voyage as our coach drives through winding streets.

When it rolls to a stop, I cannot help myself from peeking out the window. The house is more of a manor, sprawling across the hilltop. It is not nearly as big as Devonshire House, but it is clear Carlisle comes from money.

We step out of the carriage and immediately the front door opens and a woman with caramel brown hair is rushing toward us. She throws her arms around Edward, squeezing him tightly before letting him go and turning to me.

"My dear, I am Esme, Edward's aunt," she says, yanking me into a firm hug. "I am so happy that you two are here!" She pulls back from me, and her eyes widen, dropping to my stomach. Self consciously, my hands come up, pressing against my belly. It has not changed, not even in the slightest, but it's as if she knows what I suspect.

"Come in!" she says, shaking her head and gently tugging me toward the house. "Come in and have a cup of tea." I allow her to lead me inside, Carlisle and Edward not far behind us. "Bella, this is Deepa Kaur, our housekeeper," she says, stopping to introduce me to an Indian woman about forty years of age. Mrs. Kaur gives me a polite smile and I smile in return. "Mrs. Kaur, will you fetch some tea for our guests please?" Esme asks.

"Right away," Mrs. Kaur says, nodding and slipping away.

Esme settles me into a bright blue armchair that feels as if it is covered in silk. "You do not know how happy I am to finally have you both here," she says, taking her own seat.

Edward sits beside me and smiles at his aunt. "We are grateful to you for taking us in."

Esme waves a hand in the air. "Your father is many things, Edward," she says gently. "But romantic is not one of them. You are both welcome here as long as you like."

It is a weight lifted off my chest to hear this from her. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feared that she would turn us away, or that our stay here would be limited. It is a relief to hear that we are accepted here.

Carlisle settles in a chair beside his wife, his easy smile spread across his face as he looks us over. "I think," he says, taking in his nephew before looking at me. "That this is going to be the start of a rather wonderful adventure together."

Edward grins, and I cannot help my own smile in return.

For the first time in my life, I let myself truly believe that everything will be all right from here on out.