Excentryke's Musings

Title: Full Moon Weather
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Pride & Prejudice / the Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Darcy, Jane/Bingley, (one sided) Carlisle/Elizabeth
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 18.5k
Warnings: time travel, Carlisle hasn’t developed into his empathetic self yet, petulant Elizabeth, fortune hunter Wickham, Wickham is a creep, infidelity (pre story), illegitimate children

Full Moon Weather

Carlisle Cullen looked out the window.  “There is a full moon tonight.”

Bella closed her book carefully.  “That means we can take the horses.”

“Yes,” he agreed.  He turned from the window and looked at her.  “I do not know how comfortable I feel keeping you secret from the Volturi.  We should marry you off to a human as quickly as possible, so I can go about my business.”

“You have a thriving venture as a night surgeon.  Your degree from Cambridge is only three years old,” Bella argued carefully.

“I know you have told me in the twenty-first century eighteen-year-old women do not marry—”

“No,” Bella agreed carefully.  “We do not.”

“But in the nineteenth century they do.”  Carlisle said this definitively.  “You came to me for aid.  This is the aid I can give you.”

Bella didn’t even bother to answer.  She had heard this from Carlisle Cullen before.  It was a familiar conversation.

In 2005, Bella had followed Edward to Volterra where she had become trapped by the Volturi, Aro in particular.  She had been thrown into prison where they had then tested various abilities on her.  One vampire, a tall black woman with a shaven head and several body piercings, had placed her thin hands on Bella and had somehow sent her back in time to 1806.  Bella, uncertain what to do, did the only thing she could think to do.  She had found Carlisle Cullen in this timeline and had explained everything to him, down to her tumultuous relationship with his son, Edward.

Carlisle had taken responsibility for her and now she lived as his young cousin, Isabella Marie Swan-Cullen, and they resided in Hertfordshire, where he was intending to take her to the local assembly and introduce her to marriageable young men.

Carlisle preferred to live in small hamlets so as not to attract attention, but if Bella was not married by the age of twenty, he was planning to take her to Bath for the larger social scene.

He refused to even consider making her into a vampire.

Bella had learned not to ask several months earlier.

She turned the page of her book.  She would have to dress for the evening and allow her maid to do her hair.  Carlisle had heard, from his work as the night surgeon, that a Mr. Bingley had taken Netherfield Hall and brought with him seven ladies and four gentlemen.  Bella supposed she would be introduced to all of them.

Wearing a sprigged muslin and placing her hair in a bun at the base of her cranium with only a ribbon to accentuate it, Bella was ready at half eight.  Carlisle helped her onto her horse, and they rode in the direction of the assembly rooms.

They arrived well past Mr. Bingley and his party (he brought two gentlemen and two ladies, far less than what had been reported), and Bella was not introduced to them for half the night.  She did notice that a well-dressed gentleman could not take his eyes off of her.  He prowled about the edges of the room with his hands behind his back, regarding her as she danced with the local men.

Bella was still slightly clumsy despite the dancing lessons Carlisle had given her and managed to step on three gentlemen’s toes, but the well-dressed gentleman only smiled to himself when she grimaced and continued in the dance.

“Ah, Miss Cullen,” a Miss Bennet greeted her.  Bella remembered meeting her earlier in the evening.  She was one of many sisters.  They were all blonde with sky blue eyes, but she couldn’t remember which one this one this was.  She seemed to be leading the well-dressed gentleman who, incidentally if Bella was correct, had not spoken to her all evening except to be introduced just five minutes earlier.

“Miss Bennet,” she greeted, trying to smile at her.  “I hope you are enjoying the dance.”

“Oh, immeasurably,” she answered with a serene smile.  “There are many a happy a partner, which I see you have learnt for yourself.  Is this your first assembly?”

“Indeed,” Bella agreed, trying to speak as Carlisle had taught her.  “I am only eighteen myself.”

“How wonderful to be young,” Miss Bennet agreed.

The well-dressed gentleman coughed into his hand.

“But I forget myself.  This is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.  He is staying at Netherfield for the Autumn and is one of our new neighbors.  He wished to be introduced to you.”

Bella turned to the well-dressed gentleman.  He was tall, with broad shoulders and curling brown hair, his eyes a bright verdant color.  Bella curtseyed to him, making sure not to trip on her hems, and tried to offer him a polite smile.  “I notice you do not dance, Mr. Darcy,” she offered.

“No,” he agreed solemnly.  “I only dance with women of my most intimate acquaintance.”

“I see,” she agreed.  “Then you must only dance with women of your own party.  I have not been introduced, I’m afraid.”

“I am sure you will be, by and by,” he agreed, giving a look to Miss Bennet.

She smiled at them, curtseyed, and left them.

Bella was left all alone with a man, who might very well be twice her age.  She wasn’t entirely certain what to say to a man like that.

“I heard you were the night surgeon’s sister,” Mr. Darcy offered.

“Cousin and ward,” she corrected.  “Carlisle is recently come down from Cambridge and brought me with him.  Both of our fathers are now gone.”

Carlisle’s father had died in the 1500s.  He had been a preacher who tried to seek out and destroy demons.  In his zealousness, Carlisle had been bitten by a vampire and had to hide from his own preacher father.

“And your excellent mother?” Darcy inquired.

“Gone as well,” Bella quickly explained.  “Surely that is apparent.”  She tried to smile, but it fell flat once again.  She looked over to where Carlisle was dancing with one of the Bennet sisters.  She didn’t think that was the oldest one.  She’d have to ask Carlisle when they got home.

“And your mother?” Darcy inquired.  “Was she a gentleman’s daughter?”

Bella was startled by the question.  “Renee?” she parried back.  “I know nothing about my mother, only that she died in childbirth.”  That was the story, anyway.  “My father had a small bit of land in Shropshire.  I imagine he married decently well.”  She bit her lip and looked away.  Darcy’s gaze was rather overpowering.  She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He offered her a seat and she took it.

“Do you like Netherfield?” she asked after a full set where they sat in silence.  Several young men looked her way, but Darcy stared them all down and they seemed afraid to approach her.

“It is a fine house,” he agreed.

“I have only seen it from the outside,” she admitted.  “We have not been in the neighborhood long.”

“Where are you located?” Darcy asked carefully.

“A townhouse in Meryton,” she told him.  “We stable our horses at the Meryton Arms.”

“I suppose it is fortuitous for the night surgeon to be housed in the town proper.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed, “though I had not really considered it before.”  Her feet tapped to the music under the hem of her muslin. 

“You must keep house for your cousin,” Darcy thought.

“I do,” she agreed.  “It is not a difficult task.”  After all, she had essentially kept house for both Renee and then Charlie.  She cooked, she cleaned, she kept the grocery list.  She paid the electric.  Now she kept track of the number of candles they needed.  Carlisle went through a great deal of candles in his study at night. 

She laughed to herself.

Darcy looked intrigued.  “What amuses you so, Miss Swan?”

“Oh.”  She had not even realized she had laughed.  “Carlisle and his candles.  I place a new order nearly every week!”  She looked over at him and caught his verdant gaze.  She was surprised at how green his eyes were.  “I imagine—” then her voice trailed off as she was struck at the color of his gaze.

“You imagine—?” Darcy inquired several long moments later.

“I imagine?” she asked, having lost her train of thought.

“You were saying that ‘you imagine’—”

Bella came to herself and looked away hurriedly.  “Oh, it is only I imagine you do not stay up all night at your medical treatises burning up candles.”  She blushed red, the flush going down her cheeks, beyond her neck, and into her blusher.  Bella was utterly mortified.  She hated when she blushed.

Clearing her throat, she tried to grasp at a subject.  “Do you—do you have wayward sisters who order your candles for you?” she inquired, looking back at him.

Darcy looked just as struck as she had been moments before.  “I have a younger sister, Georgiana.  She is just sixteen years old.  She is too young to keep house for me.”

“Oh.”  Bella was uncertain what to say to that.  “Any younger brothers in the church?”

At this Darcy grinned wryly.  “Not a one, Miss Swan.”

“Brothers—and I daresay cousins—are full of opinions,” Bella told him quietly, as if it were a secret.  “Carlisle did not think any man would ask me to dance with my hair done thus, but I have proved him wrong.  He is not dancing.”  She nodded in the direction of the line of observers on the opposite end of the room.  Carlisle was standing, watching the dancers and taking glances at them. 

“Yes,” Darcy agreed.  “You do look nothing like each other despite your close relationship.”

“Such is the way,” Bella sighed.  “He has to suffer me nevertheless.”

At this point, a slightly fearful Oliver Hatfield approached Bella and asked her for a dance.  Bella had to accept otherwise she had to refuse all future dances, so she bade Darcy a goodnight, and entered the dance.  She rather suspected Carlisle had sent Oliver Hatfield to break up the conversation.  She stepped on Oliver’s toe for good form.

When it was time to leave, Carlisle lifted her into her saddle and checked the reins.  “I noticed you speaking to one of the Netherfield Party.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.  He does not dance with women who are not of his closest acquaintance, or so he informed me.”

“Still, he spoke with you for three sets,” Carlisle observed.  “I shall make inquiries.”

“If you think that is best,” Bella agreed.  “I still say eighteen is too young to marry.”

“It is September,” Carlisle reminded her.  “You will be nineteen next month.”  He began to trot down the road toward their townhouse.

Bella grimaced.  She still thought nineteen was too young to marry as well.

When she got to her bedchamber, she looked at her reflection and traced the line of her face before she allowed Charlotte to take down her hair, going to bed.  She knew Carlisle would be somewhere in the house burning candles.  She would have to put in a new order on Tuesday.

The next day was gray, which meant the curtains were left open. 

Bella was looking over a list for the butcher (only she and the servants ate, Carlise ostensibly eating in his study, but food was never sent to him), when she heard the bell ring.  When no one came to present her a card (not that she expected visitors), she called for the maid.

“Who is here?” she asked.

“Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, mum, to see Dr. Cullen.”

Bella nodded.  They were paying calls then.  She’d read all about it in a small etiquette book Carlisle had found for her.  Carlisle would have to return the favor on a rainy day.  She wondered if any other gentlemen from the assembly would come.

Other gentlemen did come.  Mr. Bennet from Longbourn, Sir William from Lucas Lodge, Mr. Hatfield from Hatfield Orchard, Mr. Goulding from Meryton, and more beside.  Bella could now make calls on their wives and daughters.

Sir William brought an invitation to Lucas Lodge, which Carlisle said they would be sure to attend.

“Mr. Darcy asked who your mother was,” Carlisle told her after that particular visit.

“He asked me the same question.  I thought it rather odd.”

“Not odd,” Carlisle assured her.  “Darcy is a great man.  He cannot marry a woman who does not have at least suitable connections.”

“Connections?” she demanded.  “Surely I would never be considered.  I am the night surgeon’s ward.”

“You are the daughter of a gentleman, and I told him your grandfather was a gentleman, a small estate in Shropshire.  Best to keep it all in the same county.  I doubt he will go looking for it.”  He shrugged.  “I will have to hunt before the evening at Lucas Lodge.”

“Perhaps that is best,” she agreed.  “If anyone comes I can say you are out with a patient.”

“The best excuse,” he deemed.  “No one will know differently.”

“No, no one will.”  Bella looked outside.  It was always cloudy in Hertfordshire.  “Where’s his estate?”

Carlisle was no longer paying attention.  “Beg pardon?”

“Nothing.”  She stood from where she was sitting on a settee and joined him at the window.  She opened the curtain to look down on the street.  “Are we expecting anyone?”

“No,” Carlisle answered a little too quickly.  “It is only—I was hoping you would make friends with the Misses Bennet.”

Bella looked at him in curiosity.  She knew that Carlisle would find Esme near death and turn her into a vampire.  They would mate, but that was more than a century from now.  Carlisle might be lonely, but his morals would never allow him to turn a woman to make her into his wife.

“I saw you dancing with one of them.”

“Yes,” Carlisle agreed uncomfortably.  “Miss Elizabeth.”

Bella’s violet eyes flicked to him.  “Shall I go pay a call?”

Carlisle shifted.  “If you think it best.”  He then turned from the window and left the room quickly.

Bella looked after him.  Should she interfere?  Miss Elizabeth might fall ill and die.  Then what of Esme?

She bit her lip and worried.  After dithering for more than fifteen minutes, she sent the manservant to the Meryton Arms for her horse.  She was also sure to get directions.

Longbourn was a picturesque estate outside of Meryton with farmland attached to it.  Bella saw a prettyish sort of wilderness to the West, which she could imagine Carlisle walking through with Elizabeth—if it indeed was Elizabeth he had been dancing with.

When she was announced, there were four Misses Bennet.  She was reintroduced to the eldest, who was the lovely young lady who had introduced her to Darcy.  Then there was Elizabeth, the one Carlisle had danced with, and then of course, Catherine and Lydia.  They all looked so similar to one another, with honey blonde curls and sky blue eyes.

“I saw you dance with my cousin, Dr. Cullen,” Bella opened with, sitting beside Elizabeth.  If she was going to mess with time, she should surely mess with it properly.  “Did you find him an acceptable dancer?”

Elizabeth’s eyes lit up brightly.  “He was more than capable, Miss Swan.”

Bella nodded.  “He has only been my guardian for a few months now, but he is even tempered and kind.”  Faint praise, she thought.  “I understand he is most capable in his profession.”

“Everyone speaks most well of him.”

“I hope you never have need of his offices,” Bella told her, trying to smile but finding it difficult.  “Did you—dance with anyone else?”

“The usuals.  I danced with Mr. Bingley once.”  Elizabeth looked at the eldest Miss Bennet, “but it was Jane whom he admired.”

Bella turned to the eldest Miss Bennet.  She must be Jane.  “And how did you find Mr. Bingley?  We were not introduced.”

“It was not for want of trying,” Miss Bennet confessed, “but Mr. Darcy wished to speak to you that I do not believe Mr. Bingley ever had the chance.”

“He is the most disagreeable man,” Elizabeth was now saying.

“Mr. Bingley?” Bella asked her in confusion, accepting a dish of tea.

“No,” Elizabeth told her.  “Mr. Darcy.”

Bella blinked, confused.  “He seemed a little keen to know who my mother was,” she answered.  “No one has asked me such a question before—”

“He asked you who your mother was?” Elizabeth asked in confusion.

Bella nodded.  “Yes.  I think I told him her name was Renee.  Renee Higginbottom to be specific.”  She shrugged.  “Both she and my father were from Shropshire.  It is Carlisle’s practice that has brought us to Hertfordshire.—But why do you say he is disagreeable?”

Elizabeth shared a look with Jane.

Catherine and Lydia were giggling over ribbons.  “Thank you, Kitty, Lydia,” Jane told their younger sisters.  “I daresay you can go to the dining room and spread out your ribbons there.”

Lydia (Bella believed it was Lydia) gave her eldest sister a look, but the two youngest left with a curtsey.

“Lizzy—” Jane warned.

Elizabeth turned in her seat and fixed the skirt of her muslin.  “He was asking about her connections.  Is that not disagreeable?  Why would a man need to know such things in a ballroom?”

“He may have found Miss Swan charming and wished to know if Mr. Cullen was a working man or a gentleman.”

Bella looked between them.  “Please.  Tell me what you know.”

“It is only,” Elizabeth began, shooting Jane a look, “that Mr. Darcy was standing about so, looking at you, when Mr. Bingley urged him to dance.  He tried to get Mr. Darcy to dance with you, but Mr. Darcy said he did not have an introduction and that no one of the Netherfield Party knew who you were.  Mr. Bingley then suggested that he introduce Mr. Darcy to Jane, who they both agreed was very pretty, though,” and here Elizabeth blushed, “Mr. Darcy thought you were lovelier.”

Bella colored.

“Yes.  I do not say that to flatter but merely to relay the contents of their conversation.”

“Lizzy,” Jane warned again.

“Then,” Elizabeth told Bella, “Mr. Bingley pointed me out as one of Jane’s sisters, saying I was very pretty as well, though I do not say so myself.” 

Bella imagined Jane would have rolled her eyes if propriety would have allowed it. 

“He offered to arrange an introduction.  However, Mr. Darcy said he was not in the habit to give consequence to women who were slighted by other men.  He then proceeded to stalk you across the ballroom.  It was half an hour later that he gained his introduction to you.”  She raised her chin.  “Is that not disagreeableness itself?”

Bella was struck dumb.  “I—” she swallowed.  “He certainly seemed to have a singleness of purpose that evening.”

“Yes,” Jane agreed, “and his singleness of purpose was Miss Swan and her connections.  He probably inquired of the Master of Ceremonies if Mr. Cullen had a carriage or if they walked.”

Bella whipped her head around at her.  “What would that matter?”

“A gentleman would keep a carriage,” Jane explained.

Bella swallowed.  “Carlisle likes to ride on horseback.  We each keep our own horse.”

“Mr. Darcy most likely finds it most interesting that you are an accomplished horsewoman,” Jane answered, setting down her dish of tea.  “He can take you riding if he has a mind to.”

“Could he?” Bella asked with wide eyes.

“Indeed,” Jane told her.  She reached out and pressed her hand to Bella’s.  “Your mother must have died when you were very young.”

“In childbirth,” Bella answered cautiously.

“I see.”

Elizabeth looked put out.

Bella left not long after.

When she arrived back in Meryton, she went immediately to Carlisle’s study and knocked.

He was looking over a book of fauna with a microscope.  Interesting.  Bella didn’t know he had that particular interest.

“Elizabeth,” she told him outright, “is angry Darcy wanted to speak to me instead of be introduced to her for a dance.”  She twisted her gloves.  “You’re going to have to try harder.”

He pressed his lips together but nodded.  “She is a human after all.”

“Jane,” Bella continued carefully, “thinks Mr. Darcy likes me.”

“Which one is Jane?”

“The eldest.”

Carlisle nodded.  “She thinks he likes you.”

“Likes likes me,” she qualified.  At his confused expression, she tried to explain it better.  “She suggested he would be interested if you kept a carriage, and when I said we went everywhere on horseback, she then said he would be interested that I was an accomplished horsewoman because it meant he could ride with me.”

Carlisle looked pleased.  “That was Miss Bennet’s assessment of Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes,” Bella agreed carefully.  “How old is Mr. Darcy?  Charlie was thirty-five.”

“I daresay Mr. Darcy is thirty or thereabouts.”

Bella sighed and sank against the doorframe.  “He’s almost as old as my father.”

“But he is not old enough to have fathered you,” Carlisle told her firmly.  “He is a man of consequence.  I have made inquiries.”

“What is he going to do when he finds out I have no dowry?  I know enough of the early nineteenth century to know that women need dowries.  I have nothing but the clothes you have put on my back.”

Carlisle looked surprised.  “What makes you think that I have not provided for you?”

It was Bella’s turn to look surprised.  “You’re giving me a dowry?  How do you have the money for it?”

“I have saved over the years.  I have my investments.”

Bella’s eyes widened.  “I thought all your money—in the future—was because—”  she paused, not wanting to mention Alice and her foreseeing the stock market.

“Ah, you do not wish to tell me about the future so as not to place undue influence over me,” Carlisle guessed.  “All you have told me is that I have a son named Edward, who was on the point of death.”  He carefully set down the microscope, which had been in his hand the entire time.  “Did I have a coven?”

“You called it a family.”

“A family.”  He sighed.  “How nice not to be forever alone.”  He came around the desk.  “And you get entangled with us.  I obviously grew too complacent.”

“You wanted Edward to be happy,” she tried to explain.  “Like you were happy.  Like everyone else was happy.”

“We were all mated,” Carlisle surmised.  “All except my son, Edward.”  He looked thoughtful.  “No one I know?”

She shook her head. 

“Too much to hope for.”  He sighed and began to pass her.  Then he paused.  “The next rainy day before the party at Lucas Lodge, I will return Mr. Bingley’s call.  I would bring you with me, but I do not wish for you to get wet.”

“I could still come—if you want.”

“You could catch cold.  It could lead to fever.”  He looked down at her.  Carlisle was a good head taller than her.  “What kind of guardian would I be if I allowed that to happen?”  He walked past her.  Bella was left in the doorway.

The night at Lucas Lodge came quickly.  Bella was careful with her toilette because she knew Carlisle would expect no differently, wearing a dark blue muslin, her hair put up with a blue ribbon.  They rode by light of the full moon and arrived at quarter to seven before the Netherfield Party.

Jane Bennet quickly claimed Bella and they sat by the fire speaking of the weather and the state of the roads.

“I am sorry about Lizzy,” Jane said when they had exhausted pleasantries.  “She was perhaps jealous of you.  I do not like to say so of my own sister, but such as it was.”

“Jealous of me?” Bella asked.  “But why?”

Jane looked uncomfortable.  “You had all of Mr. Darcy’s attention, and while she did dance with Mr. Bingley and Dr. Cullen, she wished to dance with Mr. Darcy, although she will not admit as much even to me.”

“Well,” Bella told her.  “Mr. Darcy told me he only dances with women of his most intimate acquaintance.  We sat mostly in silence.  He never once asked me to dance.”

“You had his attention, though,” Jane pointed out.  “To a woman who has noticed a man, this is a prize worth having.”

Bella searched for an answer, but it was then that more guests entered.

Jane looked up and then gave Bella a knowing look.  Bella turned in her chair and saw it was the Netherfield Party.  She returned her attention to Jane with a torn look on her face.

Jane reached out and placed her hand on Bella’s arm.

“You need only be a woman who is prepared to be pleased.  You are young still.  I take it no man has paid you attentions before?”

“One,” Bella admitted.  “He was more of a boy than a man.”

“It was a very different thing then,” Jane told her.  “A man is so much better.”  She widened her sky blue eyes dramatically and then stood from her chair. 

Bella quickly followed her example when she realized they were being approached by none other than Darcy and a young man with auburn hair and freckles who must be Bingley.

They quickly sank into curtseys and Bella was introduced.

“This is the famous Miss Swan!” Bingley greeted with a wide smile.  “I have heard much of you.”

Bella blinked at him and looked at Jane for guidance.

“Miss Swan,” Jane said to both Bingley and Darcy, “was just telling me how she likes to go riding while Dr. Cullen is at his work.  She rode all the way to Longbourn just this Wednesday last to pay a call on us despite the cold and looked quite refreshed.  I was sure to order a fresh pot of tea.”  She stepped on Bella’s foot.

Bella shifted slightly to the side.  “Indeed,” she agreed.  “My father taught me how to ride bareback when I was only three years old.—I ride with a saddle and reins now,” she amended carefully.

“Indeed, Miss Swan?” Darcy asked before Bingley could speak.  “You learnt to ride bareback?  Mr. Swan was not worried?”

“Oh, no,” Bella told him earnestly.  “Charlie believed in the spirit connection with the horse.  Only when a man could earn a horse’s trust, did he deserve to ride him.”  She raised her hands and made as if to grasp the air, trying to get her point across.  “If you had met him, you would instantly know of what I speak.  We would go riding just the two of us through the woods.”  She looked up with bright violet eyes.  “I could teach you.”

Darcy looked enthralled.

“By Jove!” Bingley announced.  “That is an offer, is it not Darcy?”

Bella looked over at him, having forgotten he was even there.

Jane was regarding her carefully.  “Would Dr. Cullen allow that?”

“Perhaps not,” Bella realized.  “He would think it unladylike.”  She looked back up at Darcy.  “I assume you have your own horse that was specifically trained for you.”

“Indeed.  Stargazer.”

Bella smiled, truly smiled, for the first time since Edward had left her alone in the woods nearly a year earlier in Forks.  “What a perfect name.”

Darcy seemed struck.

Bingley looked between them and Jane indicated with her head that they should perhaps remove from the pair.

Bella just stared into Darcy’s eyes as he gazed back into hers.  She would not have known how long they would have stayed that way, but Catherine and Lydia laughed from across the room and Bella came to herself.  Darcy offered her a chair and she carefully sat, making certain not to trip on the hem of her muslin.

“The horse Carlisle acquired for me is named Nell,” Bella told Darcy carefully.  “She is sweet, but not of any fine stock.  Carlisle’s horse is much finer.”

“I suppose a gentleman doctor’s horse is of more concern than a cousin’s,” Darcy surmised.

“Yes,” Bella agreed, “and I was quite the surprise.  Carlisle was not expecting me.”  She looked up with her violet eyes.  “I’m not entirely certain he knew what to do with a young lady once I arrived.”

“We gentlemen who find ourselves guardians to young ladies often find ourselves offset, at first,” Darcy told her, “but I am certain Dr. Cullen is finding his way.  I am surprised he has not found you a companion.”

“A companion?” Bella asked.  “What is a companion?”

Darcy looked slightly surprised but settled back into himself.  “A companion is an older lady of refinement, often of lesser means, usually a widow, who guides a young lady in society when she does not have a mother or an aunt to do it for her.”

Bella blinked.  “I do not think Carlisle would have servants if I were not there.  He would not know what to do with another lady of refinement.”

Darcy regarded her for a moment and then looked over at Carlisle who was speaking to a gentleman Bella did not know.  “I am certain Dr. Cullen knows best.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  “I am certain he does.”  She paused.  “I assume that Miss Darcy has a companion, then.”

“Yes, as does my cousin, Miss De Bourg.”

“Does Miss De Bourg not have a mother?” Bella asked carefully.

“No, Lady Catherine still lives, but Miss De Bourg has a companion nevertheless for her comfort and edification.”

A companion, then, seemed to be a status symbol.  Interesting.

“I didn’t even have a governess,” Bella now continued.  “I went to school.”

Darcy looked slightly interested.  “There are many fine institutions.”

“I suppose the purpose of schools is to finish young women,” Bella continued, thinking of Forks High School and how Edward used to pick her up in his little red car.  “All the girls there are back in Shropshire.”  Now she thought of Jessica, Angela, and Lauren.  “I wonder what happened to them.”

“Did you have close friends?” Darcy inquired.

“Not close,” she admitted, coming to herself.  “They’re probably all married by now with their own homes.  Children will be on the way soon.”  Trying to smile, she was sure it fell flat.  “That’s what happens to all of us, or so I am informed by Carlisle.”

Darcy paused.  “You father’s recent death seems to still touch you.”

“—Yes,” Bella agreed.  “It was quite sudden.  He went out—and died in a carriage accident.  I was sent away almost immediately.”

“I imagine, a man like that, would have allowed you to ride bareback without your stockings to your heart’s content.  You could have stayed on the estate until you chose otherwise.  Finding yourself in Hertfordshire, in a medical practice with a cousin who gets calls at all times of night, must be quite different.”

Bella leaned forward a little.  “They do bang on the door rather fiercely,” she admitted.  “They do not seem to understand that I’m sleeping.”

“They are probably afeared,” Darcy told her, leaning forward himself, “that Dr. Cullen is sleeping and cannot hear them.”

“Carlisle never sleeps,” Bella reminded him.  “He is always up with his candles.  I put in another order just two days ago.”

“You must be the candlemaker’s favorite customer,” Darcy teased with a gleam in his green eyes.

“Oh no,” Bella disagreed as she leaned back.  “That would be Netherfield Hall.  Imagine how many candles your party must go through in a single week!  We must not compare!”

A small smile played on Darcy’s lips which were usually set in place, and Bella deemed it a success.

“Come on, Mary!” Lydia was now crying out from the other side of the room to a young lady who appeared to be another Bennet sister.  “We must have dancing!”

Bella looked away toward Darcy and asked quietly, “How many Misses Bennet are there?  I counted four when I paid my call.”

“I believe there are at least five,” Darcy answered, standing.

Bella looked up at him in confusion as he offered her his hand.  “I thought you only danced with women of your most intimate acquaintance,” she murmured as she slipped her gloved hand into his much larger one.  She troubled her gown slightly but put it to rights.

“I now count you among them,” he informed her as he led her into the forming line.

“I warn you that I may very well step on your foot.”  She gave him a tremulous smile.

“I noticed you tread on Oliver Hatfield’s,” Darcy agreed.

“But Mr. Darcy,” Bella told him.  “That was on purpose.”

If Mr. Darcy was smiling, Bella did not mention it.

“I noticed you danced with Mr. Darcy.”  This was Carlisle on their way home.

“And you danced with Miss Elizabeth—twice.  Did you find her more congenial of a partner?”

“Most pleasant but not congenial,” Carlisle informed her.  “She seemed much more occupied with your dance partner.”

Bella sighed.  “Jane was right.  She is jealous.”

Carlisle’s lips twisted uncharacteristically.  Bella had never seen that expression on his face in all the time she had known him in Forks.  “A man with ten thousand and an estate in Derbyshire is a better prospect than a night surgeon.”

Bella kicked Nell so that she pulled steady with Carlisle.  “You are—serious about Elizabeth,” she realized.  “Has a human ever struck you before?”

“No,” he admitted.  “It is ridiculous for me to indulge in such thoughts.”

“You should be allowed to dance,” Bella reasoned.  “It’s only,” she paused, “—human.”

Carlisle laughed to himself.  “I suppose you are correct, Bella.  I am only a man with baser instincts.—But Mr. Darcy’s baser instincts are what should concern us.  He danced with you.”

“—And I did not step on his foot.  I was most careful.”  Bella was proud of herself.

“Did he seem to enjoy it when you touched hands?” Carlisle inquired.

Bella laughed to herself.  “You know, in the future—”

“Do not tell me,” Carlisle informed her.  They were now coming up to the townhouse.  “I do not wish to know!” 

He gave her a smile over his shoulder.  His horse was taken for him and he swung out of the saddle.  Giving the reins over to their man, he came over to Bella’s horse and helped her down although she was more than capable.  She, after all, knew how to ride bareback.

“We shall hope,” he told Bella as he escorted her inside, “that Mr. Darcy finds a reason to call.”

“Do you think that likely?”

“For a man with a singleness of purpose, it is always a possibility.”

Darcy did not call, but Caroline Bingley did send her card.  Bella regarded it and swiped it across the palm of her hand.

“I take it I can go?” she asked Carlisle.

“Of course you may go.  You should mingle with young ladies of your station.  Moreover, Mr. Darcy might be there.”

“She says in her letter that the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.”

“Yes,” Carlisle agreed, looking up from the dictionary he seemed to be reading.  “However, this invitation will be followed by other invitations and an acquaintance will be formed.  Will anyone else be there?”

“Jane Bennet and Mrs. Hurst,” Bella told him, looking back down at the letter, which had accompanied the card.  It had taken her several weeks to get used to reading the cursive of the early nineteenth century.  It had taken her even longer to learn how to write with a quill pen.  “I do not know who Mrs. Hurst is.”

“Mrs. Hurst,” Carlisle informed her, “is Miss Bingley’s elder married sister.”

“Ah.  Well, Jane will be there.”

“Jane it is now?” Carlisle checked.

“Not officially,” Bella told him.  “I would never use her name without her permission.  I did read that volume you gave me.”

Carlisle pierced her with a look.  “Well,” he decided.  “Miss Bingley is inviting you because Mr. Darcy has shown you obvious favoritism, and she is inviting Miss Bennet because the same can be said of her and Mr. Bingley.  Perhaps the gentlemen have asked her to inquire about your dowries.  Women often are sent to learn secrets.”

“And how would you know that, Carlisle?” Bella teased.

“I not only have an excellent sense of smell, but I can hear through an entire house when I pay house calls,” he informed her, “but surely you know this.”

“I am well aware,” Bella informed him.  “Sometimes I forget you do not know me as well as I think you should.”

“You are the veritable mystery, Miss Swan,” he promised.

“Well, you shall know me better than I shall know myself when you meet me in 2005,” she told him, “and you will have to pretend that I won’t be thrown back in time.”

“That assumes we will even meet then now that we have met here in the present,” Carlisle reminded her.

“I have thought on that,” Bella agreed.  “I shall go prepare for my visit.  I think the pink muslin.—I would never have worn pink in Forks,” she admitted.

“I look forward to women’s fashion in the twenty-first century,” Carlisle promised her.

“It will shock you,” she promised him, knocking on the frame of his door before leaving.

She did wear the pink muslin and the thin string of pearls that Carlisle had given to her, her hair in its usual tight bun at the base of her skull.  Charlotte convinced her to put two ribbons in her hair, one white and the other a deep rose, and she wore a sprigged pelisse with half sleeves despite the fact she was to dine because of the cold October air.  She would wear her blue cloak.  It looked like rain.  She would hopefully make it in time.

It had only started to rain when she climbed the outside stairs to the hall, and she was let in with laughs and smiles.

“Oh my dear Miss Swan,” Miss Bingley greeted, elegantly dressed in soft peach, which offset her auburn hair beautifully.  “Did you get wet?”

“Barely,” Bella promised as she gave her gloves to the manservant to dry.  “But a drop or two on my bonnet.”

Miss Bingley smiled at her as she showed her into the drawing room.  There was a warm fire and another elegantly dressed woman with auburn hair.  “My sister, Mrs. Hurst.”

Bella curtseyed and took a seat on the couch, accepting a dish of tea.

The three woman looked out at the gathering clouds in worry.

Jane Bennet did not arrive for another hour and was soaked through.  She had also come on horseback.

She was instantly bundled in shawls and set in front of a roaring fire in the dining room.

Miss Bingley sat at the head of the table, Mrs. Hurst to her right, and Bella to her left.  Jane was then next to Bella.  If Bella was correct, this meant she had precedence over Jane.  She would have to ask Carlisle about it later.

Then the questions began. 

“The Forks Estate,” Bella told Mrs. Hurst as she took a sip of her wine, remembering what Carlisle had told her of her chosen history.  “There was a fork in the road,” she explained away.  “It was a lovely little place.  Quite idyllic.  I believe it was entailed away to a distant cousin.  I have my mother’s fortune, of course.”

“Of course,” Miss Bingley agreed.  “And she was of the Shropshire Higginbottoms.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  She had practiced this with Carlisle.  “A small but well-established family.  I never knew my grandparents.”

“No aunts or uncles?”  Mrs. Hurst was cutting her chicken delicately, looking up with her pale green eyes.

“I’m afraid not,” Bella answered.  “No, I inherited the Higginbottom fortune in its entirety.  I understand the estate was sold after my mother’s death.  I do not know why.  My father never explained it to me.”  She shrugged.

“And that lovely necklace,” Mrs. Hurst asked delicately.

Bella touched it, ready for her performance.  “A gift from my father upon my seventeenth birthday.  They belonged to my mother.  I turn nineteen next week.”

“Oh,” Miss Bingley exclaimed.  “We must have tea.  Mustn’t we, Louisa?”  She turned to her sister.

“Yes,” Mrs. Hurst agreed in delight.  “We simply must!”

The direction of the conversation turned to Jane, and Bella learned she had an uncle who was an attorney in Meryton and that she had another uncle who lived in Cheapside in London.  Bella was uncertain where Cheapside was in London.  She had heard of Grosvenor Square and Hanover Square.  Belgravia, of course.  Bloomsbury.

Carefully, she asked, “Where is Cheapside in relation to Regents Park?”  She had heard Carlisle mention Regents Park.  She knew it existed.

Jane paled.

Clearly, Bella should not have asked the question.

Bella looked worriedly at Jane.  “Are you sure you are well, Miss Bennet?  Perhaps you should have a sip of wine to fortify yourself.”  She looked worriedly at Mrs. Hurst across the table.

At that moment Jane leaned forward and rested her head on her hand.

Mrs. Hurst asked their manservant to send for Fosset.

Carlisle was sent for.  It was evening now so it was his purview as night surgeon.

Bella sat in the drawing room awaiting his arrival with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

“We will, of course, send you home in the carriage,” Miss Bingley was now saying, “once Dr. Cullen has assured himself of your safety.  We will send your mare home tomorrow.”

Bella looked out at the rain.  “Carlisle does not like me to ride in the rain,” she admitted.

“No, it was good you came when you did,” Mrs. Hurst soothed.  “Miss Bennet was reckless with her health, riding over as she did.  Her father keeps a carriage.”  She looked over at her sister and then mentioned, “Perhaps the gentlemen will arrive in time to see you.”

“Yes,” Miss Bingley agreed from where she was looking out the window, squinting.  “However, you know officers.  They can toast for hours.”

Bella did not know officers, but she took another sip of her after dinner coffee so she would not have to respond.

Carlisle came in half eight, drenched from the storm, but clearly welcome.  Miss Bingley showed him up to the room where Jane had been placed and he disappeared.  He was there a full half an hour before he came down.

“She is congested.  I fear a fever might set in.  She should not be moved.”

Bella knew this was serious.  Tylenol would solve the problem in twenty-first century America, but this was nineteenth century England.

“I shall have to send a note to the Bennet family,” Miss Bingley decided.

“I shall take it there,” Carlisle offered, “and then I will call at eleven tonight to check on the patient.”

Miss Bingley nodded.  “If you think that is best.”

“I will leave Miss Swan in your capable hands,” Carlisle continued.  “She obviously cannot ride home in the rain.”

“We will wait to see if the rain lets up,” Mrs. Hurst told him.  “If it does not, we will give her the carriage.  You can expect her no later than midnight, Dr. Cullen.”

“That is most kind,” Carlisle agreed.  “I will await the note.”

“Certainly,” Miss Bingley agreed, walking over to the writer’s desk.  “Please do take a seat.”

“Thank you, Madam.  I do not wish to leave a watermark.”  He bowed and exited the room.

Mrs. Hurst shared a look with her younger sister who was finishing up her note.  “I wonder that Dr. Cullen does not break more hearts in Meryton.”

Bella looked up and blushed.  “I have seen it happen in the past,” she admitted, remembering all the nurses at Forks Hospital swooning over him, even though he was married with children.

“He is certainly dashing,” Miss Bingley agreed.  “I was most pleased to dance with him at the assembly.”  She folded her note and rang a bell for a servant.  Bella thought it ridiculous she couldn’t just go out into the hall to give it to Carlisle herself.  “I am sure if you are not married soon yourself, Miss Swan, you will have to give up your place as mistress of the Cullen home to a new bride.”

Bella’s eyes widened, thinking quickly of both Elizabeth Bennet and Esme Cullen.  “I suppose it is not out of the question.”

“No, certainly not,” Mrs. Hurst agreed.

A manservant entered and Miss Bingley handed the note over with instructions.  The three ladies were left alone again. 

Bella was one hundred percent certain Carlisle could hear their entire conversation from wherever he was in the house.

She was uncertain exactly when he left, but she put him out of his mind and agreed to play cards with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.  It was close to eleven when the gentlemen finally arrived home from dining with the officers, and they came in from the wet, talking among themselves.

“No, my Jane is certainly fairer with her fair hair and blue eyes.  I will not be gainsaid—”  Bingley paused when he saw the three of them playing cards.  “Miss Swan!  I did not expect you to be here so late!”  He turned to look at Darcy who was close behind him.

Darcy came around him and, though his face was as solemn as it usually was, his verdant eyes lit up in pleasure.

“Miss Swan is an excellent horsewoman,” Miss Bingley told the gentlemen.

A gentleman, who was much shorter than Bingley and Darcy, stumbled in and threw himself down on a settee.  He must be Mr. Hurst.  Mrs. Hurst certainly looked disappointed at his entrance.  Everyone else ignored him.

“As you can see it is raining.  We would have sent her home in the carriage earlier, but Miss Bennet also came on horseback and has taken a chill and is up in the blue room.  Dr. Cullen has been sent for and has promised to call again.  He will check in on Miss Swan and if the weather has not improved by then, we have promised Miss Swan the carriage.  Of course, we would happily also give her a room, but we cannot importune Miss Swan for more of her time.”  She played a card.

“I was not caught in the rain,” Bella further explained.

“Miss Swan is the superior horsewoman,” Mrs. Hurst put in.

Bella blushed.  She was glad the room was lit by candlelight because the shadows hid it well.  “That is not true,” she assured the gentlemen.  “I nearly know how to read cloud formations.”

“Well,” Bingley said, coming up and taking the fourth seat at their card table.  “I am heartily sorry to hear of Miss Bennet’s chill.  I am glad that Dr. Cullen has been called.  There is no superior medical man in the area.  I am also glad that we have Miss Swan’s company for another hour at least.”  He smiled at her. 

Bella gave him a small smile in return. 

Darcy had come and stood behind Bella’s chair.  She previewed her cards for him before once again holding them close to her chest, just as Charlie had taught her during his many late night games with Billy Black and Harry Clearwater.  Bella had been a close study.

She was winning at piquet hands down.

“Deal me in,” Bingley asked.

The ladies threw in their cards and Bella, who it had been discovered could shuffle better than either of the Bingley sisters, took the cards in hand and began to deal.  When she had her new hand, she flashed it at Darcy before betting a ha’penny. 

At the end of the hand, Bingley asked for music.

Miss Bingley obliged, making the card table break up.

“I have never heard you play,” Darcy noticed.

“No,” Bella agreed carefully.  She had had lessons as a child and had even had Middle School recitals in Arizona.  Once she had gone to Forks she had not continued, and Edward never thought to ask if she wanted to play his piano.  He had always been too busy showing off.  “I have not played in a great while and Carlisle does not have an instrument.”

“Does he not?” Darcy asked her in interest.

“I do not believe it has occurred to him that I might play.  Remember, he was not expecting a young lady.”  She gave him a soft look.  “I have not played in months and months.”

“Well, you shall come and play here,” Darcy insisted.  He slapped his hands against his legs and looked up toward Mrs. Hurst.  “Louisa,” he called from where she was talking to Bingley, “Miss Swan does not have an instrument.”

Mrs. Hurst looked surprised.  “Dr. Cullen has not rented one?”

“He has not, it seems.”

Bella was now blushing.  “I am no great talent,” she assured them.

Miss Bingley was now trying to pay attention although she was still playing the piano.

“I suppose the townhouse is too small,” Bingley was now saying.  “I have not seen the parlor.—But you shall come here!  What are neighbors for?”

Bella blushed even more.  “I was not seeking an invitation.”

“Nonsense!  We shall love to hear you!  Caroline—allow Miss Swan to play!  She does not have her own instrument!”

Miss Bingley immediately stopped.  “But she must come here,” Miss Bingley implored.

“Exactly what I determined.”

Miss Bingley was standing from the instrument.  “Come, Miss Swan.  Try the instrument.  See if it is to your liking.”

Bella hesitantly got up from her seat and went toward the piano.  She accepted the seat and carefully placed her hands on the keys.  She was glad her gloves had been taken at the beginning of the evening by the manservant.  Pausing for a long second, she looked up.  Bingley was looking at her encouragingly.  Darcy was waiting patiently.  Miss Bingley was still standing behind her.

Carefully, Bella began to play scales to warm up.  When she was finished ten minutes later, she looked up and saw that Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were now speaking.  Miss Bingley had gone and joined them.  Darcy, however, was still watching her.  Hurst was asleep on the settee.

Bella carefully thought and began to play the Moonlight Sonata.  She hoped it had been written.  As she continued to play, Darcy stood and came over to the piano, taking up a position so that he could regard her from the other side of the instrument.

There was a scattering of applause as she finished, and Bella blushed self-consciously. 

When no one came to escort her from the instrument, she transitioned into another Beethoven piece, Piano Sonata No. 24.  She only stopped when Carlisle was announced.

He seemed startled to find the scene of Bella at the piano, Darcy attending her, and the family in repose.

“You play?” Carlisle asked her as he was escorting her out.  The rain had let up by then and Bingley had extracted a promise that she would come for tea on the next day and she would avail herself of the pianoforte.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“You said Edward played.”

They were now out on the steps.

“He did.  All the time,” Bella agreed.

“If I had known I would have leased a pianoforte.  I would not like anyone to think I am not providing for you,” Carlisle chided.  He lifted her into the saddle.

Bella paused.  “Charlie never got me a piano,” she admitted.  “Neither did Renee.  I had to practice at school.”

“I am not Charlie or Renee,” Carlisle reminded her carefully.  He swung himself up on the saddle.  “At least it gives you a reason to see Mr. Darcy again until a proper piano can be leased.”

“You see how they arranged it so I would not go home until I saw him,” Bella whispered as she took up her reins.  “They quizzed me on the Higginbottoms and my dowry—just as you said.”

“Did you tell them how much it was?”

“I thought you said that would be indiscrete.”

“It would be indiscrete,” Carlisle agreed.  “That does not mean you could not have hinted.”

“I did not hint,” Bella informed him.  “I think they know I am wealthier than the Bennets.”  She looked at him and then spurred on her horse.  Carlisle was not far behind her.

On the morrow, Bella was surprised when she entered the Netherfield drawing room to find Elizabeth Bennet.  She shared a look with Miss Bingley who escorted her to the piano and who began to shuffle music as a cover to whisper to her.

“She arrived this morning,” Miss Bingley told her, “her hem six inches deep in mud.”

“Indeed?” Bella carefully agreed.  Elizabeth was now dressed in a silk gown that obviousy belonged to one of the Bingley sisters.

Bella had always traipsed around the Reservation, but she knew there was a different standard of behavior in the nineteenth century.  “When is she going back to Longbourn?”

“Charles invited her to stay.  Darcy is beside himself.”

Bella could quite understand why he would be.  Darcy did not care for Elizabeth Bennet. 

She sighed.  “Can you get rid of her?”

“She has been in the sick room all morning.  Now she is here for a respite.  Her clothes should arrive soon.”

Bella held in a sigh.  She picked up a piece by Bach that she recognized.  Fortunately her piano teacher had loved Classical music.  “Has someone told Darcy I am here?—Not that I think he needs always to be in my presence.”

“No, I quite understand.  I sent a servant for him not five minutes ago.”  She gave Bella a small smile.

Sitting down at the piano, Bella began her scales and Darcy entered the room when she was beginning her second descent.  She looked up with a twinkle in her violet eyes and beckoned him forward with her gaze, waiting for him to take his usual position at the end of the pianoforte. 

Elizabeth closed her book from where she was sitting on the couch, and looked up peevishly between the two of them.

“Something you might recognize?” Bella suggested as she spread out her music.  She was tempted to crack her fingers, but she didn’t think that would be very ladylike.  Darcy had come around to turn the pages for her, and she looked up with a small smile, and hesitantly began.

She made it two thirds of the way through before she found a difficult passage and had to stop.  Playing it several ways through, she tried several finger positions, before backing up and leading up to it.  She almost made it through before she had to stop again.

Elizabeth slammed her book shut.  “Miss Swan!” she demanded.  “This is the drawing room!”

“I am here to practice, not to perform,” Bella answered as innocently as she could.  “I’m practicing.”

Elizabeth’s lips thinned.  “My sister is resting upstairs,” she reminded her.

“I doubt Miss Bennet is bothered by the pianoforte in the Drawing Room,” Darcy told her sternly.  “She is on the opposite side of the house.—Will you not continue, Miss Swan?”

Bella’s fingers stuttered, but went back to the music, leading back into the difficult passage.

Elizabeth audibly sighed and went back to her book.  Bella rudely wondered if she was reading Nietzsche, not that he was alive yet.  Nihilism would suit her.

Bella completed the piece of music and only then stopped for tea.  Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst came in from another part of the house and Bingley wandered in with a generally pleased expression on his face.  The Apothecary had been to call and had declared that Jane Bennet should not be moved until her fever subsided.  She would be there for some days yet.

“Carlisle will surely have a parlor piano installed by then,” Bella was telling Darcy.

“He took the hint then.”

“Yes.  He did not know I played.  I never told him.”

“Do you sing?”  He looked most interested.

“To myself,” she admitted.

“So you were never properly trained.”

“No,” she agreed.

“Soprano? Alto? Mezzo Soprano?  I am intrigued to know your register.”

Bella blushed at this line of questioning.  “Surely Alto, though of course I could never be sure.”  She put aside her dish of tea.  “I doubt I could ever play and accompany myself.”

“I should very much like to hear you.”

“Well, then you shall be very much disappointed,” Bella assured him.  “I have not the skill nor the talent.”  She sighed.  “I should insist you perform for me, Mr. Darcy.  I have known young men to play.”

“Surely not.”

“Surely so,” she insisted.  “I do not tell an untruth.”

“I would never accuse you of telling an untruth,” he assured her.  “It is only young men who must make their living by the instrument who play it.”

“Or young men of great talent.”

He looked at her in interest.  “You shall have to tell me the story one day by a warm fire.”

“Perhaps I shall,” she agreed with a tremulous smile. 

She took this as her cue to go.

“You shall come again,” Miss Bingley urged.  “I remember that your birthday is this week.”

“I’m afraid I should not importune Miss Elizabeth or Miss Bennet,” she demurred.  “Miss Elizabeth was most put out by my practicing.”

“I shall send my card,” Miss Bingley promised.  “We should not know what to do without you.”  She pressed her hand to Bella’s and had a manservant lead her out.

It was uncharacteristically sunny and Bella had to shade her eyes on her ride back to Meryton.

“Elizabeth Bennet is there,” Bella informed Carlisle as she took a seat in his study.  She propped her feet up in another chair, but Carlisle gave her a look and she quickly put them on the floor.  The curtains were drawn so tightly that Bella wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they had been sewn together.  “She did not like me practicing or, more specifically, she did not like Darcy attending me.”

“If Elizabeth Bennet were to take a chill and die, I still do not think I could change her because she would be so favored toward me in a dissatisfactory way; she would go running after Mr. Darcy and feed off of him.  If I should change her.  I am not convinced by your arguments yet.”

“Such is the way,” Bella agreed sagely, picking up a quill on his desk.

He gave her another look and she put it down quickly.  “Miss Elizabeth will have to give it up when he marries you by Christmastide.”

Bella’s eyes widened.  “That’s in two months!”

“Two and half,” Carlisle qualified, “unless he wants to plan a grand wedding, but I imagine he wants you in London for the Little Season.”

“What would I do in London for a—’Little Season’?”

“You would go to balls,” Carlisle informed her, “step on gentlemen’s toes, go to plays, be entertained, wear silks, I imagine.”  He smiled at her.  “And I will be left here to dance with Miss Elizabeth to my heart’s content.”

Bella took a deep breath.  “I was trying to convince Edward to have sex with me,” she admitted.

Carlisle looked up at her, stunned.

“He wouldn’t,” she told him quickly.  “He said he barely had enough control to kiss me.”

“Darcy should not even try to steal a kiss until a formal engagement is announced.  If he tries anything sooner, you will tell me at once, Isabella Marie Swan.”

“Okay,” Bella agreed, holding up her hands.  “I take your point.”

“Good,” Carlisle decided.  “Husbands are for intimate relations, not gentlemen of your acquaintance.  What do they teach young ladies in the future?” he asked himself in wonder.

“Safe sex,” she answered.

“There is no such practice as ‘safe sex’,” he answered.

“There is in the future.”

Carlisle shook his head in disbelief.  “The morals of the twenty-first century continue to astound me.”  He swatted her with some papers playfully.  “Off with you.”

The pianoforte came on Friday and Bella oversaw its placement in the parlor along with a gift of three folios of music.  Bella noticed that no Beethoven was included.  Perhaps he had not started to be published in England yet.  Bella would just have to play him from memory.

Darcy and Bingley came to call, but as it was a sunny day, Bella gave Carlisle’s excuses and explained that he was sleeping.

“What a fine instrument,” Darcy complimented.  “It fits in the room quite comfortably.”

“It does,” Bella agreed.  “The piano tuner comes on Monday.”

“Then we shall have to come for an evening concert,” Bingley suggested, “in two weeks or a month when you are more suitably prepared.”  He accepted a dish of tea.  “We saw Miss Bennet home two days ago and were on our way to pay call to Longbourn when we saw the Misses Bennet in Meryton.”

“I insisted on diverting here,” Darcy told her, “though Cullen House was my original object.”

“Well, I am pleased to see both of you,” Bella assured them, “and how is Miss Bennet?”

“Escorting a new cousin,” Bingley put in.  “That is, Miss Elizabeth is escorting a new cousin.”

Bella was just now cutting pumpkin cake for them.  “And who is she?”

“He,” Darcy told her, “is a Mr. Collins.  He is a clergyman, we understand.”

“Ah, like Carlisle’s father then.”

“Dr. Cullen’s father was a clergyman?”  This was Bingley.

“A gentleman clergyman in London,” Bella qualified as she took a seat with her own dish of tea and cake.  “Carlisle no longer cares for the church, you must understand.  The Reverend Cullen was a highly zealous individual from what I understand.  He made it his life’s mission to root out demons.”  She shuddered at the very thought.

“How—intriguing,” Darcy commented.  Changing the subject, he told her, “The Misses Bennet seemed more interesting in speaking to the officers.”

“I have not met any of the officers,” Bella told them.  “I would not see what I would have to say to any of them.  I know nothing of Napoleon and even less of war.”

“You are too modest,” Darcy assured her.

“No, I quite assure you,” Bella insisted.  “I should probably read Carlisle’s newspapers when he’s finished with them.  It would certainly give me something to do other than read books of poetry and going riding—and now play the pianoforte.”

“There are ladies magazines,” Darcy suggested.

“From London?” Bella asked.  “Yes, that is always a thought.”  She set her dish of tea aside.  “Are you going to the card party next week?”

Bingley hesitated.  “Caroline thought we would not.”

“Oh?”

She looked between them and went to the mantle where she had placed the invitation.  Mrs. Philips was giving a card party at the house in Meryton on the Sixteenth of October at 7pm.  She flipped it over.  “Whatever is wrong with it?”

“Mr. Philips is an attorney at law,” Darcy was explaining now.

“Oh.  Are they not grand enough?  I think I remember Miss Bennet saying that her uncle was a Mr. Philips, an attorney at Meryton.”  She flipped the invitation and put it back again.  “The advantages of being a night surgeon is we can socialize with everyone.  It is very much like a clergyman, I understand.”

She came and sat back at her seat, a little uncomfortable.

“Perhaps I shall go beside,” Darcy seemed to decide.  “Caroline need not lower herself.  I can partner Miss Swan.”

Bella glanced over at him with her violet eyes.

“No one in London will know.”

Bella slid her glance over toward Bingley.

“No,” Bingley agreed.  “No one in London will know.  And Jane will be there, Mr. Philips being her uncle.  Caroline need not come if she does not wish to.”

“Officers will be there, I suppose,” Bella mused.  “Red hurts my eyes.”

Darcy looked at her in concern.

Bella was thinking of blood.  “I suppose it’s good camouflage.”

“I suppose it is,” Darcy agreed.

“You cannot tell if a soldier is injured that way. Hmm.”  She took a sip of tea.

The visit was concluded that the gentlemen would be at the Philips’ card party even if the ladies would not be.  Bella thought it was well worth the comment or two even if that meant Elizabeth Bennet would be distracted away from Carlisle.

“Have you fed?” Bella asked the morning of the Philips’ card party.

Carlisle was once again in his office with the curtains drawn.  The servants only came in to dust when he was out on a call.  They didn’t even bother to bring him tea.

“Yes.  Last night,” he answered.  He looked up.  His eyes were a burning gold.

“Good,” Bella agreed.  She was leaning in the doorway again.  “There are officers apparently.”

“Yes, I have seen them in the street.  They have their own doctor.”

“More competition,” Bella surmised.

“I had not thought of it that way.”

“I had,” Bella told him outright.  “The Misses Bennet are apparently much enthralled.  Miss Elizabeth, in particular, has a cousin from Kent who is squiring her about town.”

“But he is not an officer?” Carlisle asked, not looking up from the list of points he was writing.

“I was told he was a clergyman.  Perhaps he is keen and she is not.” 

“We shall have to hope.”

Bella sighed.  “Why do you not go to Volterra and socialize with lady vampires?”

“Firstly, you are my ward and Aro would find my adoption of you peculiar.  Secondly, they all feed on humans which I find abhorrent.”  He looked up at her with golden eyes.

“You could moralize at her,” Bella suggested, “although I have been told by a rogue vampire that animal blood is disgusting.”

“It suffices,” Carlisle informed her, “and I would hate to see what a rogue vampire would do to you.”

“Chase me,” Bella answered.  “You made Edward tear him limb from limb in my defense.”

“Did I?” Carlisle mused.  “Strange that I did not just force Edward to turn you given that you were such trouble.”

“You could always turn me now and have me waiting as a present,” Bella suggested, her heart not really in the argument.  Her mind conjured Darcy’s face, which had become dear to her after the past several weeks.  “I am physically two years older than Edward now, however, which may prove problematic.”

Carlisle looked at her dubiously.  “I thought I detected a tenderness in you toward Mr. Darcy.”

Bella sighed.  “He does consume my thoughts,” she agreed.  “Not like Edward did.”  She considered.  She had dreamed of Darcy just the night before. 

“Well, he will just have to try harder to win your heart,” Carlisle informed her.  “It is his burden to convince you to marry him, and it is my burden to convince you that his proposal is the most favorable you will receive.”

“While it is my burden to be pleased, at least according to Jane Bennet.”

“Jane Bennet is a wise woman,” Carlisle told her.  “I had thought you were pleased.”

Bella considered.  “I am pleased.”

“Then the battle is half won.  Now, you are bothering me.”

“You never sleep.  You have more than enough time to have a ten minute conversation with me.”

“That does not mean that I find the prospect equanimous,” he informed her.  “I am three hundred years your senior.”

“Indeed,” she agreed, closing the door on her way out.  “You are much kinder in the future,” she called through the door as a parting shot.

The ride to the Philips’ house was less than ten minutes long and the street lights guided their way.  The Misses Bennet were already present, and Bingley was already in attendance of Jane.  Darcy was standing by the parlor window, watching as the guests arrived, and was there to take Bella’s hand as soon as she entered.

“I forgot to ask if you play cards,” Bella considered as they took their places at Whist with Jane and Bingley.

“I usually do not but I made an exception for this evening,” Darcy informed her.

They all bet a ha’penny and the drawing began. 

“Tell us of your cousin,” Bella asked Jane.  “I understand he is from Kent.”

“He is paying court to Lizzy,” Jane informed them, “though I do not believe she shares his enthusiasm for her.”

“So it is a long visit,” Bella surmised.

“No, but a fortnight.”

Bella looked up in confusion.  “He plans to court and marry her in a fortnight?”

“Matters of the heart, when practicality is the senior priority, can be wrapped up in a fortnight,” Darcy informed her.  “When husbands and fathers are involved, a contract can be drawn up in a matter of hours.”

Bella played a card.  “Oh dear.  I thought Carlisle threatening to take me to Bath if I was unmarried at twenty was rash, but I see I was mistaken.”

Jane looked up with her sky blue eyes.  “I understand your nineteenth birthday was just a week or so ago.”

“It was,” Bella agreed.  “I do not think Carlisle likes having a ward.  He much prefers his bachelor ways.  Now he is forced to go into society.  If it were not for me, he would always be at his treatises and encyclopedias.”

Darcy and Bingley exchanged a significant look.

“I do not think that Dr. Cullen need worry for your future much longer,” Darcy assured her, playing a card.

Bella felt a flutter in her chest.  She focused on her cards and took a steadying breath.  Jane placed her gloved hand on hers in reassurance and Bella glanced at her.  Her sight, however, was caught by the sight of an officer near the coffee tables who held a striking resemblance to Darcy. 

She almost did a doubletake.

She had never been so struck since she had first seen the Cullens come into the Forks High School dining hall and she noticed how they were all drop dead gorgeous, with marble skin, bruised under eyes, and golden eyes.  She slid her eyes over to Darcy before the officer could notice her.

“Mr. Darcy,” she asked carefully, “you told me you did not have any brothers.  Do you have any cousins in the militia?”

“No,” he answered casually.  “Why would you ask that?”

Bella looked at him worriedly and when his verdant gaze met hers, she tipped her head over toward the coffee table.  “Someone has stolen your face,” she informed him carefully.  “The resemblance is striking.”

She watched as Darcy’s eyes hovered to her left and then his expression darkened.  She could look over at Jane and Bingley and saw that they could see Darcy’s countenance as well.  Bingley was now following his gaze.  Jane could not turn around to look without it being obvious.

“Pay it no mind,” Darcy informed the table, turning back to his cards.

Bella regarded him carefully and then did as he said: she paid it no mind.  There was obviously a story, but they were in public.  She expected Darcy to tell her, at least once they were married.

Her brain screwed to a halt.  Married?  It was the first time she had considered it.

She wrenched her violet eyes at Darcy and noticed he was regarding her carefully over his cards.  She gave him a tremulous smile and turned to the table, “Whose turn is it?”

“It is mine,” Jane informed her, choosing a card and playing a three.  “Now you, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy did not even look.  He was still regarding Bella.  Choosing a four of diamonds, he played it and it was now Bingley’s turn.

Bella did not even notice what he played.  She was regarding Darcy over her cards.  She was going to marry this man, exactly as Carlisle wanted.  She was going to give up all notion of Edward, of becoming a vampire, of living to the twenty-first century, and she was going to become a man’s wife.

“Miss Swan, what is wrong?” Jane asked her.

Bella continued to stare at Darcy.

Jane placed a hand on her arm, and Bella shook herself.  “Is it my turn?” she asked the table.  She looked down at the played cards and then chose a three of hearts and played it.  “What do you think of that, Mr. Darcy?” she inquired a little boldly, now that she had decided definitely for him.  “I don’t have the two of hearts, but the three is as close as I can come to it.”

“As the three of hearts is the perfect card for the game, I applaud you,” Darcy assured her in his unwavering voice, “but I think I quite take your point.”  His verdant eyes gazed adoringly into hers. 

“I do not take her point,” Bingley informed the table, “but as long as you do, I suppose that is all that matters.  Miss Bennet, it is your turn.”

Jane looked at her cards.

Bella turned to her.  “Why does Mr. Collins want to marry one of the Misses Bennet?” Bella asked, “Not that you and your sisters are not lovely examples of femineity.”

Jane blushed. 

It was Darcy’s turn again.  He was clearly not listening to Jane, but still regarding Bella.

“It is only that the estate is entailed away to Mr. Collins.”

“Father’s estate was entailed away,” Bella agreed.  “I still do not quite see—”

“You had Dr. Cullen.  Presumably, the Misses Bennet will be able to stay at Longbourn if Miss Elizabeth marries Mr. Collins, along with Mr. Bennet’s widow,” Darcy explained.  “Forgive my bluntness, Miss Bennet.”

Jane was blushing further.  “Not at all, Mr. Darcy.  You put it so succinctly.”

“Is Miss Elizabeth likely to accept Mr. Collins?” Bella inquired carefully.  She knew of Elizabeth’s fascination with Darcy.  She let her eyes dart around the room and found that Elizabeth seemed to now be talking with the officer who looked like a Darcy copy.  “She is not playing cards with your cousin at the moment.”

“She is not?” Jane asked, looking around.  “Who is she speaking—”  She had turned around in her chair and Bella could tell the exact moment her eyes had landed on her next eldest sister.  Her voice dropped off and she immediately turned back to the table.  “Perhaps I should send Mr. Collins to her.”

“He should certainly send himself,” Darcy agreed sternly.

Jane laid down her cards and stood from her seat.  Bella watched her go.  Bella’s eyes caught Carlisle’s and she tipped her head toward Elizabeth.  He nodded to her and then set down his untouched coffee cup and went off in her direction.

“I sent Carlisle to her,” Bella informed the table.  “He will not mind.”

It was then that Jane slipped back into her seat.  “I saw Dr. Cullen approach.”

“I sent him to her,” Bella told her.  “I hope I did not do wrong.”

“No, you did not do wrong,” Jane agreed.  She offered a serene smile to the table.  “Shall we continue?”

Bella took a card.  It was her turn.

When the table broke up, Darcy led her to the coffee table and let his hand linger on her gloved one.  “I do not like that that man is here,” he confessed.  “I will have Colonel Forster transfer him.”

“Can you do that?” Bella checked.

“It should be easy enough.  Still, it is the middle of October.  I expect to be in London for the very end of Little Season.”

“Carlisle mentioned the Little Season,” Bella told him carefully.  “When is that exactly?”

“It has already begun,” Darcy confessed.  “Parliament starts up in November.”

Bella wondered what Parliament had to do with it.  “I should really start reading the newspapers,” she decided.  “I always relied on Charlie to tell me what was happening.  Carlisle, unfortunately, is not as forthcoming.”

“I suppose he is always in his study or with patients.”

“You have the right of it.”

Darcy nodded.  “You should be expecting an invitation for the next full moon.  Bingley is holding a ball.”

“Is he?” Bella asked.  “Another excuse for Carlisle to dance.”

“Another excuse for us to dance,” Darcy corrected, looking down at her breathlessly. 

“Yes,” Bella agreed, her eyes shining.  “What is it with gentlemen and dancing?  I cannot quite account for it.”

“You have only been to one assembly,” Darcy reminded her.

“Of course that is true,” Bella agreed.  “And, of course, you did not dance with me then.”  She turned more fully toward him.

“An oversight, surely, on my part.”

It was at that moment that someone in an uncommonly ugly yellow dress pushed in.  “Allow me to introduce you.”

Bella looked over to where Elizabeth had approached them with the officer who looked like Darcy’s double.  This man was smirking.  Carlisle was behind them, looking sheepish, an expression that Bella had likewise never seen on his face in all the time she had seen him.  Elizabeth looked self-satisfied.

Bella turned to them and refused to be intimidated.  “Miss Elizabeth,” she greeted.  “How lovely to see you this evening.”  She stared her down.

Elizabeth just stared right back.  “This is Mr. Wickham,” she introduced, turning to the officer.  “He is from Derbyshire.”

Bella purposefully did not curtsey.

After a long pause, Wickham bowed.  “Miss Swan, I understand your father’s estate was in Shropshire.”

“It was,” Bella agreed.  “Lovely country.”  She was hoping that would shut down the conversation.  Turning to Darcy, she lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Miss Swan, you have finished your coffee.  Perhaps you should like to rejoin the card tables.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.  How thoughtful.”  She handed him her half empty cup of coffee and allowed him to escort her back to the tables.  “I shall let you choose the game,” she told him when they were out of hearing range.

“I fear there is only one table open,” he apologized to her, setting her down in an open chair, pairing with her in a game of Couples Solitaire.

As soon as Bella and Carlisle arrived home that night, Bella asked, “And who was Wickham?  His very presence disturbed Darcy.”

“And well it should,” Carlisle told her.  “He claims to be Old Mr. Darcy’s godson.”

“Lovechild, you mean.”

Carlisle gave her a reproachful look.

“I am not stupid,” Bella retorted as they went into his study.  “They look like twins.  Wickham is thinner about the face, but the resemblance is striking.”

“Miss Elizabeth is quite taken with Wickham,” Carlisle told her.  “If she cannot get Darcy, she will take the copy.”

Bella ground her teeth.  “Is that the extent of the connection?  Wickham is Old Mr. Darcy’s godson?”

“It is worse than that.  Wickham claims that Old Mr. Darcy left him the Living at Kympton and Darcy refused it outright when he was executor of his father’s Last Will and Testament.  This, then, left Wickham nearly destitute.”

Bella sighed.  “Darcy probably did it out of some sort of loyalty to the memory of his mother.  I wouldn’t like the evidence of my father’s affair slapped in my face day in and day out.”  She had slumped into a chair and taken her slippers off, massaging her left foot.  “Well, Wickham seemed very pleased with himself.”

“He is very pleased with himself.  He is very pleased with deriding Darcy’s character.  He seemed very interested in learning from Miss Elizabeth that Darcy had attached himself to an heiress of great fortune from Shopshire.  I daresay he wants your fortune for himself, not only because he is undoubtedly a fortune hunter but also because you clearly belong to Darcy.”

Bella rolled her eyes.  “Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“He applied all his charm to me when he learnt I was said heiress’s cousin and guardian.—What he said of Darcy may be true, but that does not mean I trust Wickham’s character.  If he calls, I want you to deny him entrance.”

“Yes, of course.  It goes without saying.”  She sighed.  “Well.  I’ll go to bed.”  She picked up her slippers and then paused.  “On the next full moon there will be a ball at Netherfield.  I expect Mr. Darcy to propose.”

“Did he say as much?”

“He said he wanted to go to London for the rest of the Little Season.  He also said he wanted to dance with me.”

“Ah,” Carlisle murmured with a small smile.  “I quite see your point.”

“Yes.”  Bella said her goodnights and left the room.  She didn’t tell Carlisle she meant to accept.  She’d let him find out in good time.  Serves him right for pushing her into marriage since the moment she arrived.

Jane Bennet called six days later.  Bella was practicing at the piano.  She was quite surprised to see Jane so soon.  She called for tea and sat down and waited for Jane to open the conversation.

“You know I think well of you,” Jane began.

“Of course,” Bella agreed.  “I do not even think of you as ‘Miss Bennet.’  I think of you as ‘Jane,’ though I probably should not.”  Regency England had such strict rules of propriety!   Bella was aware that she probably should not refer to Carlisle by his Christian name while she was in company, even if he was legally her guardian and supposedly her cousin.

Jane smiled.  “I must confess I do not know your given name, Miss Swan.”

“I do not suppose anyone says it,” Bella agreed, “as there is only one ‘Miss Swan.’—’Isabella.’  That is, ‘Bella.’”

“Then let us be ‘Jane’ and ‘Bella,’” Jane proposed.  “You are my closest friend in the neighborhood although you have only been here two months.”

Bella gave her a small smile.  “Then we are agreed.”  She took a sip of her tea to allow Jane to collect her thoughts.

Jane opened again.  “It is about Mr. Wickham.  He is the gentleman who looks so much like your Mr. Darcy.”

Bella did not object to Darcy being called her Mr. Darcy.  She had already decided that he was to be hers.  It was obvious to everyone in Meryton.  She didn’t mind Jane commenting on it.

“Carlisle told me his name.  He is Old Mr. Darcy’s godson.”

“He is also the son of Old Mr. Darcy’s steward.”

“But he is not Darcy’s steward,” Bella noted.  “That is telling.”

Jane paused and considered.  “You are quite correct.  Lizzy related to me their conversation.  She feels most sorry for Mr. Wickham’s sad situation.”

“You mean,” Bella put in carefully, “the withholding of the living at Kympton.  Carlisle told me.”

“Did Dr. Cullen give you a reason?”

“I supposed a reason,” Bella confessed.  “I understood Mr. Wickham to be left penniless.”  She looked toward the door and, setting aside her dish of tea, angled herself closer to Jane.  “Carlisle does not trust Mr. Wickham’s character.  He thinks he’s a fortune hunter.”

“He does?”

“Yes.  He said that Mr. Wickham was most interested in the fact that I was an heiress from Shropshire and was most flattering to him when he learnt that Carlisle was my guardian.”

“Could it not have been Mr. Darcy’s obvious attentions to you?”

“If it were just that, he would have been interested in me, but not Carlisle.  No, he is a fortune hunter.  I am certain of it.  Why did he monopolize Miss Elizabeth’s company for the evening?”

“A pretty face,” Jane suggested, “a willing ear and certainly a source of information.  Lizzy does not know when to be discrete and, I have found recently, can be indiscrete as well.”

“She did tell me the entirety of Darcy and Bingley’s conversation the morning we met,” Bella commented carefully.  “I thought it a little—peculiar upon first acquaintance.”

“You notice I did try to warn her.”

“Yes.”  Bella bit her lower lip.  “Oh dear.”

“Do you expect Mr. Darcy to propose soon?” Jane asked carefully.

“At the Netherfield Ball on the next full moon.  He has as good as indicated.”

Jane looked up in interest.  “There is to be a ball at Netherfield?”

“Indeed.”  Bella paused.  She turned the question back on Jane.  “Do you expect Mr. Bingley to propose soon?”

“He has been most attentive, though perhaps not as attentive as Mr. Darcy.”

“That is not quite an answer.”

“A ball perhaps changes my expectations.  I had thought perhaps by Christmas.”

“Darcy wishes to be back in London for the end of the Little Season,” Bella confessed.

“He has told you as much?”

“He has.  I have decided to accept.”  She blushed.

“That was not a foregone conclusion?”

“Not before the card party.”

Jane nodded.  “I intend to accept as well, but I believe you already knew that.”

“I did,” Bella admitted.  “I believe Mr. Bingley does as well.”

“I hope so,” Jane agreed.  The two friends shared a knowing look.

Darcy arrived three days later on an unusually sunny day with the invitation to the Netherfield Ball.  Bella had been up in her bedroom sewing a cushion (a skill she had picked up in the nineteenth century), when Carlisle came in.  “There was a knock on the door,” he warned.

The sun shone in through the window and reflected off Carlisle’s cheekbone like diamonds.

Bella was momentarily blinded.

“Stay up here,” she told him.  “I will go down.”  Pausing at the door, she looked back at him with a smile.  “Lock the door,” she instructed.  “I will knock when the servants are all gone into the kitchen.”

“I do not suppose you have anything interesting up here?” Carlisle asked.

“Only my cushion,” she apologized before leaving.

She went down into the parlor and found Charlotte leading in Darcy.  Bella paused and blinked.  “Oh, Mr. Darcy,” she greeted.  “Carlisle is asleep.  He had a patient until the early hours of the morning.  He got in well past breakfast.”

“Tis no trouble,” Darcy assured her.  “It is you I came to see.”

Bella blushed and showed him into the parlor, dismissing the maid.

Darcy produced the invitation, which was made in an elegant hand and Bella looked it over approvingly.  “I can safely accept for both Dr. Cullen and myself,” she told him, “though I will of course write to Miss Bingley in the affirmative.”

“The invitation is just a pretext,” Darcy confessed.

“Oh?  Shall I send for tea?” Bella asked, offering him a seat.

“Perhaps later.”  He walked toward the window and looked out of it.  Bella knew he was looking down at the street below them.

“Is someone down there?” she asked.

“Wickham,” he confessed, turning away.

Bella came up to the window and looked out.  Wickham was lingering across the street.  His looks were obvious.  Bella drew the curtain.  “There.  He’s gone.  Carlisle intimidated that he might be a fortune hunter.”

“He is a fortune hunter,” Darcy told her outright.  “If he cannot get your fortune, he will go after someone else’s.”

“Miss King has a fortune of ten thousand pounds,” Bella told him, “or so Miss Goulding told me at Mrs. Philips’ card party.  I understand Mr. King, her uncle, is in trade, but perhaps Wickham will not mind.”

“I doubt he will,” Darcy agreed, crossing the room and taking a seat beside her.  “I do not want you to ever think that a man is only interested in you for your fortune.”

Bella wasn’t entirely certain how to answer that.  Darcy had immediately wanted to know her connections the night they met, and he had Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst further inquire into her fortune.  She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it when she found that no words came out.

Darcy seemed worried by her reaction and reached out and took her hand.  “I know how it must appear.  I was so concerned with appearances at the beginning.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed, “and Carlisle was pushing me into your arms at the first signs of your interest.”  She looked down at their hands and carefully flexed her fingers so that her grasp was more comfortable.  “I am aware of the expectations of society,” she told him carefully.  “More than aware.”

She looked up at him with hesitant violet eyes.

“Miss Swan—”

“Bella,” she corrected.

“Is that a diminutive?  ‘Arabella’ perhaps?” Darcy questioned hopefully.

Bella laughed to herself.  “No.  ‘Isabella.’  No one ever calls me that.  Not even Carlisle dares.”

“’Isabella.’  It is the name of a woman.  ‘Bella’ is the name of a girl not yet married.”

“I am not yet married,” she told him.

“I am hoping to soon change that.”  He lifted her hand and carefully kissed the back of it.

Bella’s heart fluttered in her chest.  Edward had kissed her before, but this was somehow more reverent.   She felt cherished.  “Darcy—” she breathed.

“Dearest Isabella,” he whispered.  “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”  His eyes shone verdantly, and Bella reached forward with her free hand and carefully caressed his cheek.  “Will you consent to be my wife?  As soon as a special license can be had?”

“A special license?”

“I should like to leave for London the day after the Netherfield Ball,” he told her.

Bella was confused.  “That’s in,” (she counted in her head) “nine days’ time.”

“We can be married in eight days’ time,” he told her, “with Dr. Cullen’s permission.  Spend our wedding night here or at Netherfield, dance the next night away at the ball, and then leave for London.  I intend to take Bingley away with me.”

“You do?” Bella asked, a little confused.  She shook it off.  “Nevermind Bingley.  I will have to check my muslins.  I have never been to a wedding.”  (Except for Renee’s to Phil, and Renee had worn white jeans and a white halter top, a look that Bella did not wish to emulate.) “I do not know what color brides wear.”  She moved slightly away to get up but then remembered that Carlisle was locked in her bedchamber.  Pausing, she bit her lip.  “Everyone will want new gowns made for the ball.  The dressmaker will not have time to make me a new gown.”

“Hush,” Darcy soothed her, reaching for her free hand.  “Do you have your measurements?”

Yes, yes, Bella did.  She had been measured for gowns in August just before they had come to Meryton.  She nodded.

“I will send them to Madam Delacroix in London,” Darcy promised, “two in the latest styles, one for the wedding and one for the ball, and have them sent express.  I will have Mrs. Hurst send your description as only a lady can describe it, so Madam Delacroix will know what styles will suit.”

Bella nodded.  “Carlisle will insist on paying.  He was so put out when he discovered I had been invited to play your pianoforte.  He did not want anyone thinking he was not providing for me.”  She gave him a tremulous smile.

Darcy kissed her hand in answer.  Bella supposed that was the only answer she needed.

They called for tea and Bella went to the window when she realized it was raining.

“How quickly the weather changes here,” Bella noticed, opening the curtain wider.  “That man is gone.  The rain forced him inside.”

Darcy came up behind her and pulled the curtain wider still.  He hummed.  “Yes.  The weather has driven everyone indoors.  I am fortunate I brought the carriage.”

“You brought the carriage?  To come to Meryton?” Bella asked in wonder.

“I had an inkling it would rain,” Darcy answered.  “The Hertfordshire weather is so changeable.”

There was a knock on the door and Carlisle stuck his head in.  There were dark circles under his eyes.  He needed to feed.  “Charlotte told me you had a guest, Bella.”

“Yes,” Bella answered.  “Mr. Darcy.  He brought an invitation for a ball at Netherfield on the next full moon.”

“Indeed,” Carlisle answered, coming into the room.  “Most fortuitous.  Bella will have another chance to step on your toes, Mr. Darcy.”

“A chance I relish,” Darcy answered.  “If I could have a moment of your time, Dr. Cullen.”

Carlisle did not look remotely surprised.  He, of course, had heard their entire conversation from his hiding place in Bella’s room.  “Of course.  If you would follow me to my study.”

Darcy stepped away from Bella, but he took her hand and kissed it before he allowed Carlisle to show him out.  Carlisle gave Bella a look, but followed Darcy out.

Carlisle, of course, agreed to the Special License, and Darcy immediately left the next day.  Two days later the Announcement was posted in the Times and Carlisle came into the parlor to show it to Bella, even going so far as to clip it out for her, so she could keep it with her letters (not that she had many of those). 

Her dresses came express, one white, which the letter from Madam Delacroix claimed was for the ball, and another a pale yellow with pink ribbons, which was for the wedding.  Odd, Bella would have thought it was to be reversed.  However, when she called on Jane Bennet, Jane assured her the white was for the ball and the yellow was for the wedding.

“We are all wearing white to the ball.  It is tradition for a ball this size,” Jane told her.  She leaned in, “Mr. Collins has claimed Elizabeth’s first two dances, which she had been reserving for Mr. Wickham.”

“Oh dear,” Bella sighed.

Jane leaned back.

They were sitting in the parlor, the other sisters elsewhere in the house.  Mrs. Bennet had left them alone to discuss wedding details.

“Has Mr. Darcy said anything of Mr. Wickham?” Jane inquired.

“Only that he is a fortune hunter.  Carlisle was correct in his assumption.”

“I had heard he was paying attention to Miss King,” Jane confirmed.

“She does have ten thousand pounds.”  Bella sighed.  “I suppose that is all men think of.”

“Not all men,” Jane teased.

“No.  I suppose not all men,” Bella agreed with a small smile.  “I don’t think Darcy knows how much I have to my name.”

“I am assuming it is more than Miss King.”

Bella’s smile widened.  “No comment.”

“What a strange phrase: ‘no comment.’”  Jane chuckled.  “’No comment.’”

It was when Bella was leaving that a group of officers were arriving on foot, Mr. Wickham among them.  She regarded him for barely half a moment before turning to Jane and curtseying.

Her horse, Nell, was brought to her and she began to lift herself up into the saddle when she felt a presence behind her.

“That is not required, Mr. Wickham,” she told him as steadily as she could without looking back.

“I quite disagree, Miss Swan,” he assured her, his hand resting on her waist.

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.  Then, ever so slightly, his nose nuzzled the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bonnet.

Without conscious thought, she drew back her elbow and jabbed him in the face.

He immediately let go with a shout.

Before anyone could inquire what had happened, Bella was up in the saddle and cantering in the direction of Netherfield.  A shiver of disgust was running down her spine.  The sheer gall of the man!  She felt like she needed a shower.  Unfortunately, she would have to settle a bath.  Showers did not exist.  She urged her horse forward and made good time, the whole time in a whirl.  She barely paid attention to the man who took her horse, she was immediately upon the stairs two at a time, demanding to see Darcy and was shown into the billiards room.

“Isabella!” Darcy exclaimed.  She must look quite a fright with her bonnet still on and a wild look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she immediately apologized.  “I was at the Bennets.”

“Not at all,” Darcy told her, putting down his cue.

Bingley looked concerned.  “Is Jane well?”

“I left her with an injured Wickham,” Bella confessed.  “He tried to help me with my horse though I told him no assistance was needed.  He then—it was most peculiar.  He placed his face in my neck and smelled me.”  She took a deep breath. 

Darcy was immediately there to offer her a seat and ask Bingley for a glass of wine.

“I know we women wear perfume so men will smell us,” Bella was now babbling, “but it was so invasive and unwelcome.  I just elbowed him in the face and ran.  I think I might have broken his nose.”  She accepted the glass of wine.

“You did right,” Darcy assured her.  “He should not have importuned you.”

“It was the way he did it,” Bella was now trying to explain.  “It seemed—dirty.” 

“I shall ride to Meryton at once and fetch Dr. Cullen.  We will call on Colonel Forster and demand that Wickham be sanctioned.  I am still trying to convince Forster to transfer him,” Darcy admitted, clearly aggravated with himself, though he hid it well.  “You can stay here with Caroline and Louisa and calm yourself.  I will return anon.”

Bella sat up.  “Why is he so,” she searched for the word, “jealous?”  Her violet eyes searched Darcy’s verdant gaze.

He took her hand and kissed it.  “I will explain everything, Isabella.  I promise.”

She nodded and sat back in her chair.

“Come, Bingley.  Please see to Isabella.  I must ride to Meryton.”

Taking another careful sip of wine, Bella allowed Bingley to take her bonnet and pelisse before readying herself to go into the drawing room.  She was presented to the entire household not half an hour later, and joined a card game.

She was told later what would happen to Wickham.  He was sanctioned and his permission to go to the Netherfield Ball was withdrawn.

It turned out rumors began to circulate throughout Meryton.

Everyone knew that the great Mr. Darcy was to marry the surgeon’s pretty ward, Miss Swan.  They now knew that Wickham had tried to steal her away.  Some stories suggested he had proposed an elopement and Bella, in her anger, had struck him.  Mr. King took his niece away to Bath to get him away from the fortune hunter and Wickham was barred from every respectable house in the neighborhood.

Rumors of his debts then began to circulate.  It was even said he had troubled with several of Meryton’s shopkeepers’ daughters.  One lass, a Miss Bessie, was even said to be carrying his illegitimate child.

Elizabeth was very unhappy about this.

Just a day before Bella’s wedding, she called at Cullen House with Jane, all fiery indignation.  “How could you?” she demanded.

“How could I what?” Bella asked back.

“How could you ruin Mr. Wickham’s reputation?”  She refused the dish of tea Bella offered her.  “Now I cannot dance with him at the Netherfield Ball!”

Jane and Bella shared a look.

“You can still dance with Mr. Collins and I am certain Mr. Bingley shall ask you,” Jane soothed. 

Elizabeth looked agitated.  “I do not wish to dance with Mr. Collins.”

“I know Dr. Cullen will ask you,” Bella hesitantly added.  “I know how much he admires you.”

Elizabeth looked surprised at this information.

“Surely you knew this,” Bella murmured.

It seemed it had never occurred to Elizabeth.

Bella shared another look with Jane.  It seemed it had occurred to Jane.  Elizabeth seemed a little single-minded, first with Darcy and now with Wickham.  It was not as if Carlisle was ever going to marry her, but he would dance with her.  That was something.

“But what of Mr. Collins?” Bella asked carefully.  “I am to be married on the morrow.  We all expect Mr. Bingley to propose to our Jane.  I had heard some notion that Mr. Collins had a similar matrimonial idea as regards to you.”

Elizabeth scoffed.

“Perhaps he will choose another of the Misses Bennet?” Bella asked.

“No one will have him,” Elizabeth answered petulantly.

“Is he really so bad?” Jane asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

“Darcy chose to marry me long before I chose to marry him,” Bella confessed.  “He had to convince me.  To be honest, Carlisle was also doing a great deal of the convincing.”

“As I told Bella,” Jane was now telling her sister, “it is a woman’s place to be pleased.”

“Indeed,” Bella agreed.  “Mr. Darcy—pleased me—long before I had decided in his favor.”

“Mr. Collins does not please me.”

“But does he please any of your sisters?”

There was no forthcoming answer to this question.

Bella worried slightly for the fates of the other Misses Bennet when Mr. Bennet should die.  She did not think Bingley would leave them destitute, but she was sure they would be so much more comfortable in their own home, with their own sister mistress of it.  She knew she was thinking pragmatically, which was not like her, but she had been so upended by finding herself in the nineteenth century, having to find her way from Italy to France where Carlisle was living outside of Nice.  It had been sheer luck that she had found him, and she came across him hunting in a forest of all places, still dressed in her jeans and twenty-first century bra and cotton shirt, stained from weeks on the road.

“You shall be in attendance tomorrow,” Bella checked.

“We would never miss it,” Jane assured her.

“Miss Darcy and Lady Julia Fitzwilliam are to serve as my bridesmaids,” Bella shared, “but I shall not meet them until the Darcy carriage arrives for me.”

“It shall surely be a pleasure to meet them,” Jane agreed.

“Yes, indeed,” Bella agreed.  She took a sip of her tea.

Elizabeth was sitting, practically seething.  Jane was looking worried.

The day of the wedding fortunately dawned cloudy with a touch of drizzle, and Bella married Fitzwilliam Darcy, esquire of Pemberley, sealing her fate in the nineteenth century.  Dr. Carlisle Cullen walked her down the aisle and gave her away, even going so far as to kiss her on the cheek before he transferred her hand into Darcy’s.

Carlisle had given them the use of Cullen House as Netherfield was taken up with preparations for the Ball and was housing the many wedding guests.  Carlisle was staying at the Meryton Arms for the two nights Darcy and Bella were remaining in the area, taking his medical bag and a change of clothes.

That night, Bella laid in Darcy’s arms.  He kissed her but told her they were going to wait until London because he wanted her to be refreshed for the Ball.

Bella was indignant. 

Punching her pillow, she sat up in her horrible white nightgown that made her look like a little girl and asked, “It’s not me, is it?  You do—want to, do you not?”

Darcy surged forward and tangled his hand in her long braid.  “Isabella, you cannot imagine how much I long to join with you.”

“You did not even try to steal a kiss until we left the church,” Bella continued.  She had been surprised when the local vicar had left out “you can now kiss the bride,” instead declaring them “man and wife,” Darcy walking out with her proudly on his arm.

Darcy drew her to him and she rested her head on his shoulder.  “A woman’s first time causes discomfort and the discomfort can last for days,” Darcy assured her.  “I want you to be able to dance happily.—Colonel Fitzwilliam wrote extensively on the subject of the Netherfield Ball, claiming your second and seventh dances.  Owestry wants your fourth and final.  Bingley has already claimed your third.  I do not want you hobbling and having to sit out.  You should be universally admired.  Furthermore, I do not wish you to feel discomfort on our journey to London.”

“My dancing card is full,” Bella begrudgingly agreed.  “It really hurts—for days?”

“So I have been reliably informed,” Darcy told her, brushing his hand over her braid.  “I was in such haste to make you my wife that the calendar proved difficult.”

Bella sighed.  “Very well,” she agreed.  “I suppose we can sleep.”  Turning to look up at him with her violet eyes, she amended, “if you promise it’s not me.”

“Not you, dearest, loveliest Isabella.”

“I am not ‘lovely,’” she grumbled.

“I shall beg to disagree with you.”  He smiled at her.  “I was struck by you the moment I saw you.  I was praying silently as I prowled along the edges of the assembly hall that you were not some common country miss but a lady of standing so that I could pursue you.”

“Lucky for you, your prayers came true.”

He kissed her lingeringly and she got lost in the kiss.  It was many kisses later that Darcy kissed her eyelids and pulled her closer, telling her to go to sleep.

The day of the ball likewise dawned cloudy and the full moon could not even be seen, the carriage lamplights having to guide them to Netherfield.  Bella was reintroduced to Darcy’s relatives, including his young sister who was allowed to stay up until supper, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who looked Darcy’s copy and nothing like his elder brother, the Viscount of Owestry.  Owestry (and indeed the younger Fitzwilliam sister, Lady Julia) had thinning dirty blond hair, a thin figure, and muddy eyes.  Fitzwilliam was tall with broad shoulders, curling brown hair, and bright blue eyes that so startled Bella she stared at him a long moment when Darcy gave him her hand for the dance before she came to herself.

She was in a corner with Jane eating ices when Bella remarked on it.  “First Wickham and now Colonel Fitzwilliam.  It’s uncanny.”

“It is strange,” Jane admitted.  “Family resemblance is indeed strange.”

“Yes,” Bella sighed.  “Miss Darcy shares the similar looks.”  She was tall with the broad shoulders, the curling brown hair, the wide cheekbones, and verdant gaze.  “However, I understood that Lady Anne Darcy was the Matlock connection, not Old Mr. Darcy.”

“We should probably not speculate,” Jane warned.

“No.  You are quite correct.”

It was at that moment that Owestry came to claim his second dance.

Bella gave him what she hoped was a genuine smile and allowed him to lead her into the dance.

It was after the dance was done and she was speaking to Owestry, that he escorted her into the drawing room and she found Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Darcy surrounding Bingley. 

“But I love Jane!” Bingley was saying.

Bella paused at the door with Owestry. 

“Miss Bennet is unsuitable,” Mrs. Hurst was now arguing.  “She has relations in trade.  We told you this.”

Darcy looked up from his seat on the couch, his arm outstretched over the back.  “Isabella!  Are you ready to go home?”

“What’s all this?” she asked, entering the room more fully.  She looked back at Owestry and found he was still hovering.

“We are convincing Bingley to come with us to London for Christmastide,” Darcy explained as he approached her, no hint of a lie in his eyes. 

Bella looked up at him questioningly and then nodded.  “Are we to make one large carriage line?” she asked.  “The Matlocks, the Bingleys, the Hursts, and us?”

Bingley sighed.

“Indeed,” Darcy answered.  He kissed the top of her head.  “Go with Owestry and I will be with you momentarily.”  He gave her a pointed look and Bella, not wishing to have an argument with witnesses, turned and allowed Owestry to escort her out of the door. 

“Very peculiar,” she remarked to Owestry as they went back into the hall.  “I have not met your wife, Viscount.”  A change of subject was in order.

“That is because Sophie does not leave London,” he apologized.  “You will meet her in the next few days.”

“And do you have children?”

Darcy took her back to Cullen House in the carriage and Bella waited until they were dressed for bed until she asked the question: “What was that about Jane Bennet?  You know she is my closest friend.”

Darcy sighed.  “I know expectations have been raised in the neighborhood.”

“Yes, they have,” Bella agreed.  “More importantly, they have been raised with Jane who is fully expecting a proposal.”

“If Bingley leaves, he will be fully forgotten in three months.”  Darcy drew her toward him in and leaned in to kiss her, effectively ending the conversation.  However, Bella would not have it: “She’s in love with him.”

“Is that your opinion of the situation?” he asked carefully.

“It is my decided opinion.  You know, Jane encouraged me toward you at the beginning when I was uncertain.  It was her—and not Carlisle—that convinced me to give you a chance.  You’re barely younger than my father would be, which concerned me at the beginning.”

Darcy considered her.  “How old would Mr. Swan be now if he were still living?”

“Thirty-six,” she answered.

“I am only twenty-eight.”

Bella paused.  “You are younger than Carlisle estimated.  That is a relief.”

“You only needed to ask,” Darcy assured her.  “I would not have been offended.”  He ran a finger along the shell of her ear, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.  “Let us not argue.  I have Bingley’s best interests at heart.”  He leaned in to kiss her again.

“And I do not?” she asked when his lips were nearly touching hers.

He sighed.  “Isabella.”

“Would you not have married me if I had relations in trade?”

He paused.  “It does not matter as you do not have relations in trade.  Your father was a gentleman as were your mother’s people.”

It was Bella’s turn to sigh.  “I do not understand our society,” she confessed.  “None of this mattered when I was at Forks.”  She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Darcy’s shoulder.

She felt Darcy’s fingers run through her hair, soothing her.  “That is because Charles Swan protected you from the difficulties of life.  He is to be commended.  However, now you must live in the world and its consequences.”

“Jane does love him though,” Bella insisted.

“Be that as it may,” Darcy told her, “she is not suitable, although the Bingleys are not of the first circles.”

Bella lifted her face and looked into his green eyes.  “I did not know that about the Bingleys.”

“Now you know.”  He ran his fingers down her face.  “Now may I kiss you?”

She nodded shyly and he leaned in, sealing their lips together.

It was later that night, when Bella thought Darcy was asleep when he whispered, “My father was not an honorable man.”

Bella turned and looked at Darcy’s profile in the darkness.  The candles had been blown out well over an hour before and the sky was still a dark blue of the night.

“Was he not?”

“No,” Darcy confessed, shifting.  “When my mother was with child, he would find other women to sate his appetites.  Wickham is the product of one of those relationships.  Wickham has always insisted that he was owed more than my father gave him because he was father’s bastard.”

Bella breathed out of her nose.  “And the Colonel?”

“The result of an affair between my father and my uncle’s wife, the Countess of Matlock.  It was hushed up and Fitzwilliam was always treated badly by the Earl because of it.  My father bought Fitzwilliam’s original commission and made him Georgiana’s second guardian.”

Bella thought.  “Are there others?”

“Yes,” Darcy confessed.  “Two others.  A young lady in Bath and a boy who is growing up on the estate.”

“You’re not like that though,” Bella checked.  “You don’t have any—” she swallowed “—offspring.”

“No,” Darcy assured her, turning toward her in the darkness and rooting his hand in her hair.  “And you will be the only mother of my children.”

Bella sighed in relief.  “Okay,” she agreed.  “Okay.”  She reached out for Darcy and clasped him to her. 

In the morning they would leave for London.  She would hold Darcy’s secrets in her heart as well as her own, and she would take them to her grave.

Outside in the dark sky, a full moon shone over Hertfordshire.

Bella closed her eyes and fell asleep to the breaths of her husband.

The End.