Vampire Blushes

Title: Vampire Blushes
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Pride and Prejudice / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Carlisle, Jane/Bingley
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: murder/suicide (prestory), vampires, Darcy is a bully, Bella was born in the late 1700s, there are vampire mates, Bingley is a player
Prompt: for kaiazira who wanted Carlisle Cullen who falls for Darcy’s ward: Bella Swan

Vampire Blushes

There was a knock on the bedroom door.  Charlotte paused from putting a ribbon in Bella’s hair and went to answer it.  She peeked through the opening and then, when she saw who it was, opened the door fully.

Bella sighed.  She didn’t bother to turn but instead took out her rose water and placed it behind her ears and at her wrists.

“Isabella.”

She still didn’t turn.

“Please do not ignore me.”

“I am not ignoring you, Mr. Darcy,” she assured him.  “I am merely preparing myself for the Assembly tonight.”

Charlotte came over and picked up the ribbon, placing it against Bella’s midnight dark hair.

Darcy shut the door behind him.  “I should like to remind you, Isabella, that Bingley is a good match.  He has asked for your first set.  Charm him.  He should prefer you to a pretty face he meets tonight.”

Bella sighed.  “If my fortune of twenty thousand pounds is not enough to recommend me—”

“Isabella, I am being quite serious.”  Darcy’s voice was most firm.  The silence enveloped them.

The ribbon was now placed in her hair. 

“Thank you, Carrie,” Bella murmured.  “That will be all for now.”

They waited for Charlotte to leave.

Bella turned in her seat and glared at Darcy.  “Carrie knows my father committed suicide.  It is not a secret.”

“It should be a secret,” Darcy told her, his voice grim.  “It is shameful.  No respectable man of the first circles will take you.  We are practically buying you Bingley.  You must do your part and charm him.  Smile at him.  I know it is in your nature to appear sullen, but you must try.  If you want any place in society, any place at all—”

“Yes, I quite understand,” Bella bit out, turning back to the vanity and picking up her gloves.  “Smile.  Engage in polite conversation.”

Darcy approached her and looked into the reflection.  “I am doing my best for you, Isabella.  As your guardian—”

Bella looked down in shame.  She was quite aware of the situation.  Her father had gone mad and taken a pistol and shot her mother and then himself in the head.  Bella’s reputation was ruined.  She was now practically untouchable.  The Bingleys were barely respectable with their fortune gotten of trade.  Darcy had only secured the invitation to Netherfield so as to facilitate this match.  She had three months to pull it off.  She was so disgraced Darcy wouldn’t even allow her at Darcy House with his young impressionable sister, Georgiana.

Taking a deep breath, she stood and nodded her head.  “I am ready,” she told him.  “I shall do my utmost to be pleasant.”

“That is all I can ask,” Darcy assured her, his mouth nonetheless in a stern line.  “Come.  Let us go.”

They took the same carriage as Bingley and his sister and when they arrived at the Assembly, Bella did her best to smile.

They were introduced to several families in the neighborhood, but Bingley obligingly took her out for the first set—after securing Miss Jane Bennet for the second—and then left her by the side of the room.  It seemed all of Bella’s forced smiles and polite inquiries into his approval of the house had come to nothing.

A stirring across the room caught her eye.

A group of young ladies were blushing and laughing behind their hands.  They were all staring at a gentleman in a fine waistcoat and fresh cravat.

Bella stared at him.  He was quite possibly the handsomest man Bella had ever seen.  Tall, with blond hair and pale skin, he was standing quite apart from the rest of the assemblage—and he was looking directly at Bella.  Never dropping her gaze, the handsome man moved away from the giggling girls and toward the man Bella knew to be Sir William Lucas and, upon reaching him, whispered in his ear, indicating Bella with a nod of his head.

Blushing, Bella looked down at her gloves as Sir William made his way over with the handsome man, Bella being their obvious destination.

“Miss Swan!” Sir William greeted, bowing.

Bella quickly curtseyed, her eyes once again transfixed on the tall, handsome man.

“May I introduce our night surgeon, Dr. Carlisle Cullen?  He most particularly wished to make your acquaintance.—Miss Swan,” Sir William was now telling Carlisle, “is one of the Netherfield Party and has only lately arrived in Hertfordshire.”

“Indeed, Miss Swan?” Carlisle asked, his voice rich and full.  “How do you find the house so far?”

“I have seen little of it,” she admitted.  “No one has shown me the library, unfortunately.”

He smiled at her, becoming even handsomer, causing Bella’s breath to hitch.  “You read?”

“Capital, capital!” Sir William declared, clapping his hands together, but neither Bella nor Carlisle were paying attention to him.  They were too busy staring at each other.  Sir William looked at the young pair, smiled to himself, and wandered away.

“I do indeed read,” Bella told Carlisle, blushing lightly, her cheeks and neck infused with color.  “My mother believed I read too much.”

“No such thing!” Carlisle declared.

At the sound of the music changing he looked up.

“Will you do me the honor, Miss Swan?”  He held out his hand and Bella blushed again, placing her hand in his.  Carlisle led her to the dance floor and they formed a line.  Bella was so engrossed in him, that she didn’t even notice Darcy regarding them in interest, and with the downbeat of the flute, she turned on her heel and progressed up the line.

Every time their hands touched, even though Bella was wearing gloves, she could feel a frisson of light skate up her arm, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

As it was the second dance of the set, Carlisle led her off the dancefloor at the end of the dance, asking her if she should like a glass of punch.  She nodded carefully and waited patiently for him to return to her.

She noticed Bingley across the room speaking to the eldest Bennet daughter.  She was tall with honey blonde hair and sky blue eyes.  Nothing like Bella who had midnight hair and violet eyes.  If that was his preference, Bingley would never choose Bella unless he was motivated by her dowry.

Carlisle returned with her drink and she thanked him.

“From whence do you hail?” Carlisle inquired after he had settled her in a chair.

“My father’s estate was in Norfolk,” she explained delicately, “but he passed.  Mr. Darcy is now my guardian and he knew Mr. Bingley from Cambridge.”

Carlisle looked over to where Darcy was standing stupidly, watching the dancers.

“He seems young to have guardianship of a young lady,” Carlisle observed carefully.

Bella paused in taking a drink of her punch.  “Indeed,” she agreed.  “My father’s wishes were that Old Mr. Darcy should retain custody of me.  Unfortunately, he had not updated his Last Will and Testament since George Darcy passed two years since.  The magistrate found that his son is more than capable of seeing after my welfare.”  She hesitated then decided against saying anything further. 

“Tis Hertfordshire’s good fortune that you are here now,” Carlisle assured her with a smile of his own.  “Meryton is a small town, but Netherfield is the greatest house for forty miles if not farther.”

“I well believe it,” Bella agreed.  “How did you come to choose Meryton for your practice?  Were you born here?”

Carlisle’s golden eyes lit up and Bella smiled contentedly to herself.

Bingley did pull himself away from the Bennet daughter to ask for a second set, but Carlisle reclaimed her for his own second set and then a private tête a tête in the corner.

When it was finally time to leave, Bella couldn’t help the smile on her face, and she settled into the carriage without complaint.  When they all settled into the Drawing Room, Bingley sang the praises of the young ladies of the neighborhood, but Miss Bingley teased Bella.

“I noticed you danced twice with the night surgeon,” she remarked, a cruel light in her eye.  “I wonder that Mr. Darcy allowed it.  He even fetched you a glass of punch.  What are his prospects?  He is a country doctor!  He does not even have a practice in London!”  She scoffed.

Darcy regarded Miss Bingley carefully.  “It is not ideal,” he agreed, “but Miss Swan is allowed her dancing partners.  I would not have her standing about, as if on the shelf, like other young women.”

Miss Bingley shifted uncomfortably.  She had only danced two sets: one with Darcy and another with Mr. Hurst.  Darcy’s point was well taken.

Bingley regarded Bella carefully.  “Miss Swan is an excellent dance partner!” he declared to the room, but Bella could tell his heart was not in it.  She did not think he was interested in marrying her, whatever Darcy’s inducements.

Darcy certainly did not seem pleased.  He stood by the window, thunderous, and kept on casting dark glances at Bella.

When Bella was finally able to retire for the night, she found Charlotte waiting for her.  “Mr. Bingley,” she told her maid, “does not find me a congenial dance partner.”

“Oh, mum,” Charlotte sighed, coming up behind her to take off her necklace.  “There is surely tomorrow.  You can play cards with him.”

Bella looked into the mirror at her reflection.  “I do not like to play cards.”

Charlotte squeezed her shoulders.  She was less of a maid and more of a friend.  The death of Bella’s parents had brought them closer.  They were in this together.

Bella paused and glanced at the door.  It was decidedly closed.

Turning in the chair, she looked up at Charlotte, biting her lip.

“Yes, mum?” Charlotte asked.

“I met a man.”  Bella’s eyes sparkled.

“What sort of a man?”

“The handsome sort of a man,” Bella confessed, turning back toward the mirror so Charlotte could take down her hair.  “He asked me to dance twice and fetched me a punch.”

“Does this man have a name?” Charlotte inquired.

“Dr. Carlisle Cullen.  He is the night surgeon.” 

Charlotte paused, pins in her hand.

Bella’s hair was now falling around her shoulders.

“I know,” Bella sighed.  “However, with my fortune, we can go to London and set up a practice there.  He will be more than respectable then.”  She turned in her seat.  “Can you not see, Carrie?  I like Dr. Cullen very much.”

“Does he know of your fortune?”

“Perhaps he has guessed,” Bella admitted, getting up so she could get undressed for the night.  “I am one of the Netherfield Party, after all.”

“Indeed, mum,” Charlotte agreed, going to the back of Bella’s dress and undoing the fastenings.  “But you said he was a handsome gentleman?”

“Most handsome,” Bella agreed, sighing to herself.  “Most wonderfully handsome!”

She fell into bed not ten minutes later, clasping her doll to her, with dreams of Carlisle Cullen on her mind.  Bingley did not even wander into her thoughts.  Who could think of Bingley, with his freckles and mop of ginger hair, when there were men like Carlisle in existence, ready to dance with Bella with a genuine smile and an open gaze?

She looked forward to seeing him again.

He called not two days later when it was too gray to take a walk in the garden and Bella had been forced to play Piquet with the Bingleys.

The footman came to fetch Bingley and even called for Darcy, who was once again staring out a window.

“Me?” Darcy inquired.

“He asked fer both of yeh, sirs,” the footman replied, handing over the doctor’s card.

Darcy seemed put out.

Bingley regarded him carefully, but threw in his cards and got up merrily.  “Time to meet a new neighbor,” he suggested jovially, walking from the room.

Darcy did not move from the window.

“Well, come, man!” Bingley cajoled.  “Dr. Cullen wishes to make your acquaintance as well.”

“He only wishes to make my acquaintance because he danced with Miss Swan twice at the Assembly,” Darcy argued.  “I am not going to make his suit easy for him.  He is a country doctor no less!”

Bella looked up at him anxiously.  “I liked dancing with Dr. Cullen,” she mentioned quietly, hoping that Miss Bingley would not care to listen in on the conversation, though that seemed to be wishful thinking.

“I do not care,” Darcy told her outright.  “I doubt he keeps a carriage.  I know he does not have a house in London, and even if he did, it is not a fashionable address.”

Bella blinked twice, but promised herself she would not cry.  She was in company, after all.

“Besides,” Darcy told her as he came up to her and leaned over her chair.  “Your future is very much decided for you.”  He gave her a warning look.

Bella knew what he meant.  She was supposed to marry Bingley.  The problem was she did not want to.  Who would want to marry a milksop like him?  She doubted he had even read a book that was not assigned to him by his tutors, and even then she doubted he had even picked a book up that had not been directly handed to him under a stern gaze.  They were entirely unsuited for each other.

“Please,” she murmured, turning so that Miss Bingley would not see that she was speaking.  “Think of a young girl’s heart.”

“I am thinking of your prospects,” he refuted.

Bingley had dithered too long at the door and so slipped out of it.  Darcy remained firmly in the room.  Bella was disappointed and returned to her cards.  Miss Bingley seemed far too pleased with herself.

Bingley returned not half an hour later.  “Well,” he declared.  “I have met our new neighbor.”

“What do you think of him?” Mrs. Hurst asked, a sly look toward Darcy.

“Capital fellow.  Local man.  Comes from London, strangely enough.  Father was a gentleman preacher.”  He looked over at Darcy.  “He has no intention of taking a wife at present.  Miss Swan is quite safe from him.”

Bella looked up at this, slightly shaken, knowing the information was for her benefit.

“Still, pleasant fellow,” Bingley concluded, retaking his seat at the card table.

Bella didn’t have her heart in it.

Darcy seemed pleased from his place at the window.

An invitation came for the Lucas’s not three days later and Darcy implored her to secure Bingley’s attention.

“We do not want a repeat of the Assembly,” he reminded her.  “The Misses Bennet will be present.”

“I cannot help it if he likes a fair face to a dark one,” Bella murmured, playing with a ribbon that was not yet affixed to her hair.  “You can be sure that I will not speak to Dr. Cullen.  I received the message.”

“Good,” Darcy replied firmly.  “You need to catch Bingley.”

“My father was a baronet,” Bella argued back, showing a bit of spark.  “His death may have been a scandal, but I will always be allowed in certain Drawing Rooms—”

Darcy paused and gave her a sad look.  “You know nothing of the ways of the world, Isabella.  Only a decently respectable marriage will save your reputation, and Bingley is the best I can manage.”

Bella turned back to her vanity, tears in her eyes. 

She heard Darcy exit the room and then, a few moments later, Charlotte reentered.  Bella forced herself to compose herself and took a steadying breath.

Bingley did speak to Bella the first quarter of an hour of the party, but as soon as Jane Bennet walked through the doors, he abandoned Bella for her side.  She really should have expected it. 

She stood alone for several minutes before going and sitting in a chair, folding her hands in her lap.  If she had to be unattended, at least she could have perfect posture.

“Mr. Bingley appears to be fickle in his attentions,” a voice pointed out and she looked up to see Carlisle.

Despite herself, a smile spread across her face.  “I understood that you called,” she commented as he came to take the seat beside her, “but Darcy refused to see you.”

“I presume he disapproves of me because of my station in life,” Carlisle hesitantly observed.

Bella leaned forward and her smile reached her dark eyes.  “He disapproves of us all,” she promised him.

“How could he possibly disapprove of you?”

“He has his reasons,” Bella sighed, looking out at the gathering. 

Darcy was standing at the mantle, in front of the mirror, observing the party through their reflections.  Sneaky of him, Bella thought.  She wondered who had garnered his notice.

Carlisle considered for a long moment and then caught her eye.  His gaze was so incredibly golden.  The color was really quite extraordinary.  “I apologize for lying regarding my intentions toward you.  I thought it was best given Mr. Darcy cutting me.”

Bella’s breath caught.  “He did cut you,” she agreed.  “I was sorry for it.”

“I should have no intentions,” Carlisle admitted wryly, confusing Bella.  “You are so far above me in rank and situation—My situation in life is also decidedly different from yours.  But I find myself quite struck.”

“Struck,” Bella agreed, finding herself quite caught despite herself.

“Miss Swan—” Carlisle began, but Bella interrupted him.

“My name is ‘Bella.’”

“Bella,” he amended, his eyes wide and gazing imploringly into hers, “since I first saw you across the ballroom, I knew—”

“You knew?”

“I knew—”

“Miss Swan.”  Bella looked up to see Caroline Bingley.  She had seen her speaking to Darcy.  Perhaps he had sent her over to interrupt the conversation.  It would be just like him.  “Take a turn about the room with me.”  It was an order, not a request.

“Of course,” Bella demurred, glancing apologetically at Carlisle.  She stood and allowed Miss Bingley to take her arm and lead her away.

“You know what Mr. Darcy thinks of that gentleman,” Miss Bingley whispered to her.

“I was only being polite,” Bella defended, knowing she was lying through her teeth. 

“As my brother’s intended—”

“He is speaking with another woman,” she pointed out, glancing over at Bingley and the eldest Miss Bennet who were engaged in intimate conversation. 

“Be that as it may—”

Bella looked back at Carlisle Cullen.  His golden eyes were tracing her across the room. 

Later he spoke to Joanna Hatfield and passed her a note, who passed it to Bella before she slipped into the Bingley carriage. She opened it while Charlotte was combing out her hair.  Carlisle was asking her to meet him after breakfast at the Hatfield Orchard if the weather was not too bright.  Odd, that.

When she arrived it was slightly drizzling, but he was already waiting, his horse tied up.

“Bella,” he sighed, coming up to her and taking her hands.  He looked desperately into her eyes.  “I was afraid you would not come.”

“It appears I am wanton,” she murmured distractedly, gazing up into his bright golden gaze.  “I am being forced into a marriage with Charles Bingley.  The contract is as good as signed.”

He nodded.  “It seems the groom has other ideas.”

“Bingley has a wandering eye,” Bella agreed.  “I fear that will be a repetitive occurrence in our marriage.”  She grimaced to herself.

“Then come away with me,” Carlisle begged her, “but you must be sure.  You must be willing to follow me to Hell and back.”

“Hell and back?” she whispered, confused, searching his gaze.

“You are my mate,” he whispered.  “I thought such an idea was—pure myth.”  He reached up and allowed his fingers to hover above her cheek.  Then, with a movement, he had let her go and rushed away as far as the wind, hurried to a far away apple tree, and before she could blink, arrived back to her with an apple in his hand.

“D-Dr. C-Cullen?” she stammered, confused.  “What?”

“It will be hard,” he told her carefully.  “You can never come back.”

“I do not wish to come back,” she told him carefully, reaching up and touching him to see if he was real.

“We do not eat food, we do not sleep, we never age, we will live forever—it will hurt at first.  I will never leave your side,” he swore.  “Come away with me, Bella.”

“Away,” she whispered again, searching his eyes and seeing only love.  “My father,” she confessed, “he shot my mother in cold blood and turned the gun on himself.”

Understanding flooded over his face.  “Such a tragedy, but one that will be relegated to the past.  I do not regard you any less, Bella.”

She nodded and allowed him to draw her closer.  “Are we going to Gretna Green?” she questioned.

“Somewhere quieter,” he promised.  “Somewhere where we can be alone and where you can be quiet.”

“But we will be man and wife,” she checked, looking back up into his eyes.

“I swear,” he told her, running his hand over her hair.  “Not even time can separate us.”

The End.