Good morning, loves!

Thank you to Mel and Pamela!

XI

BELLA

3 July 1897

London, England

I feel different when I wake.

It's not the sex, though undoubtedly that has contributed to this feeling. No, it's not the fact that I am no longer a virgin that makes me feel different.

For the first time in my life, I know with absolute certainty where my life will play out. I will never again witness the fall of empires or the launches of dreams across the stars. I will be here, in this time and place, with a man to whom I have vowed my heart.

A man who, despite what we've shared in the last two days, is still more or less a stranger to me.

The feeling makes me dizzy, but when I turn to look at him and see his strong profile resting on the pillow beside my head, I can't help but let the fear and uncertainty melt away.

It doesn't matter, because for the first time, I get to live in the here and now.

It is both freedom and curse to give the rest of history up.

Even if I am not yet pregnant, I can feel my heart and soul taking root in this time. It is a strange, grounding feeling that I have never felt before. Heavy, as if I have finally been caught by gravity, but also light at the same time, like the burden of the world has started to lift from my shoulders.

Beside me, Edward's head tilts ever so slightly on the pillow, and my eyes fall to his profile again. He's young, but despite his youth, there is something that feels as if it could be akin to wisdom brewing under the surface of his thoughts.

Even though he has now turned his back on his family and position in life rather foolishly, I've seen a certainty in his gaze that tells me he knows what he's doing.

I try to picture the rest of my life, waking up beside this man. Will we grow to be friends? Will our marriage have partnership, like my parents' did?

I must tell him who I am.

The thought causes something to grow slick and heavy in my stomach as I think about it. My pappa knew about Maman, though I can't imagine how she began to tell him. But in the end, he had to know, or else he would have had too many questions with how Maman raised me.

I will have to tell Edward who I am and what will become of our firstborn.

My eyes squeeze shut, anxiety filling me at the very thought.

Beside me, I feel Edward stir, and when he lets out a small hum, I blink my eyes open again.

When I look at his face, his bright green gaze is on me; a tender, warm look that chases away my worries.

I cannot help smiling at him. "Good morning," I whisper, my voice soft, almost shy.

His smile widens. "Good morning," he murmurs back.

I shift onto my side to better look at him, and he seems surprised before he does the same. The bed is really far too small for us both, but somehow we manage it.

"How old are you?" The question is out of my mouth before I can think anything of it.

Edward's eyes widen in surprise then a genuine laugh bubbles out of him, causing his smile to grow wider. "I was twenty-two on June twentieth," he tells me.

I bite my lip, charmed to be able to stare at him this closely.

"My sister tells me it is in bad taste to ask a woman the same question," he says, eyeing me. "She says it's horribly improper." I giggle and his grin widens again. "So since I am a man of upstanding propriety, I shan't ask, though I may secretly die of my own curiosity."

I laugh again and slide a little bit closer, my legs knocking gently into his. I can see his eyes grow large as my hand reaches out to rest against his bare chest.

"Well, since we are to be wed and I'm not looking to become an early widow, let me relieve you of your deathly curiosity," I tease. "I'm twenty," I tell him, though I can't actually be sure. I've done what I can to track time since I left home, but the truth is, it's impossible to know my age. Still, I feel twenty, and that's all that should matter, shouldn't it?

Edward's arms slide around me, tentative at first, then firmer as I move even closer to him. Our naked bodies are pressed together, the long form of him dwarfing my smaller frame.

"Your magnanimity is most appreciated and noted," Edward says with a grin.

It is so fun to be this way, so light and teasing and silly. I know it can't last—there is a world of reasons outside this door wanting to keep us apart, but for right here, right now, none of it matters. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm living in the moment, and I'm slightly dizzy by the thrill of it.

"Tell me your favorite color," I request.

Edward hums, his hands moving over my back, tracing my spine as he gives it thought. "I've always been partial to blue," he says after a moment. "Father took me to the sea once. We were meant to be on business, but I couldn't stop staring at the water, at the color that I had never seen anywhere else." He frowns for a moment before blinking, as if chasing the memory away. "It's been my favorite color since."

I smile, loving these little tidbits of him.

"What about you?"

I consider it. "Green," I say finally, gazing up into his bright eyes. "There wasn't a lot of green where I grew up. It was somewhat of a scarce color. I've learned to love every hue of it."

I see his eyebrows quirk. "Where did you grow up without the natural world surrounding you?"

I hesitate, not yet ready to broach this subject with him. I will have to—one day, I know—but for now, I want us to just enjoy this moment.

"Far away," I tell him and leave it at that.

"You are a woman of mystery," Edward says after a moment. I meet his gaze nervously. "Fortunately, I am partial to a good puzzle."

I smile. "You're a regular Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?"

Edward's smile looks delighted. "You're familiar with Doyle's works, then?"

I have to bite back my laugh. Sherlock Holmes is a character who has yet to die off from public admiration, even hundreds of years into the future. He is one of the greatest of all time. "Who isn't?" I ask instead.

"Father hates that I read them. He thinks it's frivolous and unproductive." Edward rolls his eyes.

"How can enjoyment of time spent ever be unproductive?" I argue.

Edward looks at me, his eyes scrutinizing before he smiles. "I rather like your take on things," he says, his hand gently squeezing my hip.

I grin, my fingers playing over his chest again. We could stay here all day, I realize. There is something so easy about being with Edward when his guard is down.

But down the hall I can hear Mrs. Cope moving around, and it'll only be a matter of time until she's knocking on my door to wake me.

"Mrs. Cope will be coming any minute," I whisper, hating to burst this contented bubble we've found ourselves in this morning.

Edward sighs but nods. "I suppose it can't be put off," he agrees. "We should tell her what is going on, anyway. We owe her that courtesy."

I'm not entirely sure what all he's including in his statement, but I nod. "What's the plan?" I ask, because it occurs to me that beyond getting out of bed and telling Mrs. Cope that we're eloping, I haven't the faintest idea of what will happen next.

Edward's hands squeeze my hips. "Well," he says slowly. "The first thing we need to so is be married properly, in a church, before God."

I frown. "Why?"

Edward looks surprised. "The legality, for one; the sacrament for the other. I do not intend our lives together to be marred by sin."

I barely resist rolling my eyes.

"For another thing," Edward says, and I watch as his face grows harder, more focused. "I want the law on our side. I want to make sure that no matter what my father thinks of our union, he cannot withhold what is by rights yours."

"What does that mean?"

Edward sighs. "I stand to inherit a great deal, even if my father takes the title from me. What is mine is yours, and it will provide for our family, even if something should happen to me." He pauses, one hand clutching my hip almost to the point of pain. "No matter what happens in life, I need to know that you and the family we create will be cared for."

I swallow hard, not liking this turn of conversation, but understanding it all the same. "Okay," I say gently. "I understand."

Edward's shoulders relax, like he was worried I'd start arguing with him over any of it.

"Once we're married, we'll want to leave town for a while, to give ourselves distance from my parents." Edward scowls. "My uncle lives in India. It's a far trek, but he would provide a safe place for us, if you are willing."

I smile. "I love India," I say honestly. Though I've never been to British Imperial India, I'm excited by the prospect.

Edward nods. "I'll send word to my uncle to expect us."

"How long do you think we'll be there?" I ask, wondering if this will be our life—constantly keeping a distance from the anger of his family.

"Long enough for Father to find his head on the matter," Edward says then snorts out a harsh laugh. "We may be there for the rest of his life."

My lips pull into a sad smile. "Will you miss your family?"

Edward blinks, his gaze focusing on my face. "You're my family now," he says softly. "So long as we are together, nothing else will matter."

I lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, praying that his words will remain true forever.

…

I am surprised by how nervous I am to go downstairs to face Mrs. Cope. I don't regret anything that has happened with Edward, and were we in the future, simply spending the night together wouldn't be of much significance to anyone but us, but we are in 1897, and it does matter.

I hope she won't feel as if I've taken advantage of her hospitality.

Edward and I dress—me in my regular skirt and blouse, and Edward in clothes that seem far less formal than anything I've seen him in before. They are slightly ill-fitted on him, too short in the arms and tight across the chest, and I wonder if he has borrowed them.

When we are presentable, I take a deep breath and Edward offers me his hand. It is a surprising gesture, one I accept with a smile on my face. This small show of support bolsters me enough to face whatever consequences shall come next.

We head downstairs, where I can hear Mrs. Cope speaking to someone in her kitchen. When we reach the landing, I gently incline my head toward the parlor, and Edward nods, squeezing my hand tenderly before letting go and moving to take a seat. I suck in a breath and make my way toward the kitchen.

Mrs. Cope is at the stove, and to my surprise, Emily is at the table, a cup of tea beside her as she works a thick dough.

"Good morning," I call to them.

"Ach, yer awake a' las'," Mrs. Cope says, turning to look at me. "How was yer nigh', Bella?" She motions for me to take a seat beside Emily, and the moment I do, she's placing a cup in front of me and pouring me tea.

I take a deep breath of the blend, savoring the warm herbal scent of it. "My night was…" I stop to consider the word to use. Unexpected? Eventful? Life-changing? "It swept me off my feet," I say finally, picking up the cup to take a sip.

"Aye, tha's goo," Mrs. Cope says with a wide smile. "Youngins as yerself should ha' adventures."

I lick my lips. "I agree," I say softly. "I actually have another adventure, one a little more grand than a party."

Mrs. Cope, who had turned back to the stove, glances at me over her shoulder. "Och, aye? An adventure more gran' than a ball fer the queen." She glances at Emily, who laughs lightly at the look of skepticism on Mrs. Cope's face. "Tell me, then. Wha's turned yer head noo?"

How am I supposed to phrase this? "Well, do you remember the gentleman who came to call yesterday?"

Mrs. Cope beams. "Aye, handsome as tha devil, tha' one."

I grin. "He is," I agree. "We have decided to elope."

Mrs. Cope drops her spoon. It clatters to the floor with a surprising clang as she whirls around to look at me. At my side, Emily has stopped working the dough, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

"Yer eloping?" Mrs. Cope asks, staring at me. "Wif tha son of a duke?"

Emily lets out a soft gasp and I nod, biting the corner of my lip. "Yes."

I'm not family to either of these women. I don't owe them anything more than courtesy. But hearing Mrs. Cope's voice, knowing I've well and truly shocked her, I can't help but feel slightly anxious about it. Inexplicably, I want her to be proud of me.

I realize it's a lot to put onto a relationship with a virtual stranger, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I acknowledge this must be connected to my complicated relationship with my mother.

"I'm so sorry," I say to Mrs. Cope, "If I have taken advantage of your hospitality. I never set out to hurt you."

Mrs. Cope shakes her head, blinking. "Wha' are ye talkin' abou'?" Her eyes widen before her head swivels toward the door. "Is he here noo?"

I swallow. "Yes."

Mrs. Cope lets out a sound that I can't discern. She sounds overwhelmed, maybe even a little flustered. Before I can say anything, she's storming out of the kitchen, her spoon still on the ground. I get up to follow her when Emily stops me.

"Bella, are you sure about this?" she asks, reaching for me. I look at her in surprise, realizing she's never once addressed me so informally. It takes me off my guard, and I slide back into my seat. "I understand that a certain—excitement—comes over you when you're in the midst of something as magical as a ball, but life isn't a glittering party, and choices made there shouldn't direct your life."

"You're speaking from experience, aren't you?" I ask after a moment.

Emily winces and lets go of my hand. "I met the wrong man," she says softly. "I thought I could trust him. I followed him here where I was turned into a slave." Her eyes are wide with unshed tears. "I blamed him for years for taking me from my family, from my home, but the truth is, I took myself from all of that. I put my trust in the wrong person, and I have had to pay the price of it every day since."

There is real pain in her voice, and I can't imagine the horrors she's had to endure. I reach out to her this time, my fingers gently covering her hand. She looks up at me in surprise.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," I say gently. I don't know how to tell her that I'll be fine, that there are circumstances beyond my control that are urging my elopement along. I suppose in the long run, the truth of it is that I don't know what's right, or wrong, for me. I just have to trust and have faith that my path won't turn into a similar one as Emily's.

"Is that how you met Sam?" I ask her, not wanting to pry, but trying to give her space to talk about it if she wants.

Emily nods and reaches for her cup of tea. "Yes. We were both slaves until we managed to get free. We ran away together, and that's when we found Mrs. Cope." Emily shifts her hand, and I let go of her. "It's better now, but if I could have gone back and changed things, I wouldn't have done any of it, not even for the chance of finding Sam." Her confession is a whisper, one that shocks me to my core.

Before I can find the words to respond, Mrs. Cope is coming back into the kitchen, Edward right behind her.

He gives me a nervous, sheepish grin before Mrs. Cope motions him to sit beside me.

He pulls out a chair, his eyes flickering to Emily. "Hello," he says warmly. "I am Edward Cullen," he offers her a small nod, and Emily blinks in surprise.

"Emily Uley," she says back.

Edward gives her a friendly smile before turning to me. I offer him my cup of tea, and he takes it gratefully.

"Righ'," Mrs. Cope says, picking up her spoon and wiping it clean with her apron. She turns to us, her mouth puckered. "Well, wha's done, is done." She sighs. "Nothin' lef' save ta marry ye."

Despite the sternness in her tone, she doesn't actually seem mad. There is a glint in her eyes, and I wonder if some mischievous part of her actually likes what we've done.

"Splendid," Edward agrees. "I should think the sooner the better," he says, glancing at me. "Tomorrow morning we'll depart for India."

Mrs. Cope nods, as if this is a perfectly normal decision. "Aye, I reckon tha's a goo' idea," she agrees. "I knoo a man, goo' man, he'll marry ye nice 'n proper," she continues. "Bella, I'm sorry, love, bu' I haven' a wedding dress fer ye." She sounds honestly regretful, and I am quick to shake my head.

"Mrs. Cope, you've done more than enough. I'm not worried about a wedding dress," I tell her.

Her mouth puckers again. "Righ," she says, clapping her hands. "Well, we ha' a wedding to ge' underway." She points to Emily. "Lovie, will ye fetch Jasper and yer husband?"

Emily nods, standing and dusting off her hands on her apron before she leaves the kitchen.

"Ye two are sure of this?" Mrs. Cope asks, turning to Edward and me.

I feel Edward's hand find my own, and he lifts them up, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "Yes," he says, his tone full of his conviction. "I am certain."

My stomach flutters. "I am too," I say, finding the words to be the honest truth.

I look back to Mrs. Cope, who nods. "Well then, who am I ter stan' in tha way o' fate?" She smiles. "Le's ha' oorselves a weddin!"

…

The chapel is small, nestled into a corner of the West End. It's not exactly the nicest neighborhood, but when we round the corner on the chapel, I'm delightfully surprised. It stands as a glimmering jewel amongst the refuse of the city.

Mrs. Cope has come to bear witness to our marriage, as will Sam, Emily, Jasper, and Alice. To my great surprise, when our carriage pulls to a stop, it's Liam who opens the door.

"What are you doing here?" Edward asks in amazement as Liam offers me a hand. I take it, clamoring out onto the street.

"You didn't think I'd actually miss your wedding, did you?" Liam asks with a wide grin.

The moment I'm settled with my feet under me, I yank Liam into a swift hug. I can tell I've caught him by surprise by the stiffness in his body. "Thank you," I whisper into his ear. I pull back in time to see his surprise morph into a smile.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world."

I've heard the phrase a lot throughout time, but somehow, hearing it from Liam, it is the first time I've ever heard it genuinely. Someone could be offering him the world, perhaps back at Devonshire House, and he'd turn it down to stand beside his best friend.

My heart aches, and I privately pray that Liam and Edward will get to continue their friendship, even after our marriage has caused so much discord.

Edward steps out onto the street beside me and pulls Liam into a hug as well. I'm touched by the tenderness of the moment before Liam lets out a laugh.

"Any more affection from the two of you and I should think there is an open invitation into your marriage," he jokes. He sends me a wink, because he knows I'll get his meaning, and I respond with a laugh.

"Come along, little love doves," Liam says, shaking his head. "You've got a wedding to get on with."

Inside the chapel, Mrs. Cope introduces us to Father Franks, who is a short, round man with warm eyes and a sleepy smile.

"Welcome to the house of our Lord," he says gently, his hands lifting into the air. "This is a safe haven," he adds. I wonder what Mrs. Cope has told him about us. Or has she brought other couples here?

Before I can ask, the doors to the chapel are opening, and I look up to see our friends filling in. Alice gives me a little wave, her eyes wide and round with her excitement. I grin and wave back before focusing on Father Franks as he explains the ceremony.

Once everyone is up to speed, he has me slip out of the sanctuary to await my cue.

Alice follows me into the vestibule, and the moment we're alone, she throws her arms around me. "I can't believe this is happening," she squeals.

I laugh and squeeze her back. "I know it's sudden, but—"

"It's right," Alice agrees, stepping back from me. "Oh, Bella. I'm so happy for you."

"I don't know how much of this would have been possible without you," I tell her honestly.

Alice waves a hand dismissively. "I haven't done anything. You found this path, and you are formidable enough to have discovered it without any of us."

I smile at her. "Thank you, Alice. For everything."

She nods then her eyes light up. "Oh! I forgot. I have something for you." She reaches into her apron that has been carefully tucked up. She produces a small bunch of flowers, carefully wrapped together. She offers it to me and I take it, my eyes wide. It's a lovely bouquet of yellow and white yarrow with long purple sprays of hyssop. Delicate fern leaves encase the entire arrangement in lacy green. "It's not much," she says, sounding regretful. "It's what I could find on my way here, but—"

I cut her off, pulling her into a fierce hug. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Alice kisses my cheek.

The sound of a gentle throat clearing breaks us apart, and I look up to see Mrs. Cope smiling at us. "It's time, dearie," she says gently.

I swallow hard and smile at her. "Mrs. Cope, I know it is not traditional, but would you mind walking me down the aisle?"

Mrs. Cope's eyes widen. "Bu', I'm noo a man," she protests.

I shake my head. "No, but you are like family now. Please."

Mrs. Cope blinks, and I'm surprised to see tears gathering in her eyes. "Aye, Lovie. Family," she agrees. She offers me her arm, and I slip mine through it. Alice goes ahead, walking down the aisle toward the front of the chapel where everyone else is waiting for us.

Mrs. Cope looks at me. "Yer sure of this?" she asks.

I take a deep breath. "Yes," I tell her honestly. "I am."

She smiles. "Then le's go. Ye ha' a destiny waitin' fer ye."