Excentryke's Musings

Title: Daisy Chains
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Pride & Prejudice / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Carlisle, (one sided) Bella/Darcy, Bingley/Kitty, Renee/Phil
Word Count: 42k
Rating: M (Mature)
Warnings: mentions of suicide, infidelity, vampires, descriptions of death, class snobbery
Summary: After Charlie’s death, Bella and Renee remove to Meryton where Bella meets none other than the eligible Mr. Darcy at the Meryton Assembly. Her heart, however, is stolen away by the local night surgeon, a man with a well tied cravat and golden eyes…
Song: Daisies by Justin Bieber
For: NaNoWriMo 2025

Part the First

The house was small.  Bella looked up the stairs and guessed there was nothing but two bedrooms and the maid’s room.  On the lower level there was nothing but a small parlor and what could barely pass as a dining room.  They were much lowered, indeed.

“Well,” Renee decided, looking about.  “This is much agreeable.”

Bella did not bother to answer.  It was hardly agreeable.  It was not even tolerable.  However, they were brought low by her father’s death and the entail.  They must seek as they find.  They were in much reduced circumstances.  They were no longer the Swans of Kenbridge.  The Swans of Kenbridge were Sir Lewis Swan, her father Charlie’s second cousin once removed, who had barely offered them hospitality after Charlie’s unfortunate death.

“Shall I give you the better appointed bedchamber?” Bella asked, lifting her skirts to go up the stairs.  “Should you like that?”

Renee was too busy poking her head into the dining room to hear Bella.

Bella sighed.  She signaled to Charlotte, her ladies’ maid, and took the stairs two at a time.  Poking her head into one room, she saw that it looked out onto the street.  The second room had a smaller window and only a single bed.  This was the less appointed of the two rooms.  It would certainly be Bella’s then.

“Put it here,” she instructed Charlotte.

Her maid came in and placed Bella’s jewelry box on the small vanity.

“We shall have to make do,” she told Charlotte.  “I know you shall not like to see to Renee as well, but we must make certain allowances.”

She and her mother could no longer afford two separate ladies’ maids.  Bella, however, had an allowance from her dowry, so she was able to afford Charlotte’s wages, so was able to argue they should keep Charlotte over Susan Clearwater, her mother’s longtime companion and ladies’ maid.  Bella was after all paying the wages.

Renee came in and poked around.  “Oh, yes,” she agreed.  “This is certainly less agreeable.”

Bella did not rise to the bait.

Coming in, Renee sat down on the bed and watched as Charlotte bustled around.  “Do you think there will be any balls presently?  This is a well appointed town.”

Bella kept herself from rolling her eyes.

Charlie had only been dead these past two months.  They weren’t even out of proper mourning clothes and already Renee was thinking of balls and suitors.  It was true that Renee was a young woman of only thirty-five years, and she still had many years of happiness ahead of her—but Bella wished she could have some sense of decorum.

“I am certain there are assemblies and the like,” Bella agreed carefully.  “But I should not like to be married quite yet.”  She was being obtuse on purpose.

Renee, however, snatched on the topic of conversation.

“You think too meanly of yourself, Bella.  You are quite pretty in the correct muslin.”

Bella caught Charlotte’s eye, and they shared a look. 

“You are also seventeen.  It is full right that you should catch a proper gentleman’s eye.  That Masen boy was hardly inappropriate.”

Bella’s breath caught in her throat.

Edward.  Edward Masen.  Renee was speaking of Edward Masen.

“He was hardly ‘the Masen boy’—” Bella began to argue.

“He is in Norfolk,” Renee reminded her, “and now we are here in Hertfordshire.  There is no need to dwell on the past.  There are plenty of beaux here about.”  She made a motion with her hand when Bella made to object.  “I should not have even brought up his name.”

Bella kept herself from scowling.

“Carrie,” Renee called, ostensibly changing the subject.  “I need you.”

Charlotte looked up from where she was unpacking a trunk that was brought up and curtsied.  “As soon as I’m finished, m’lady.”

“No, now,” Renee determined.  “You can do that later.  Bella needs a quiet moment without all the hustle and bustle.  Come, girl.”  She snapped her fingers in Charlotte’s face.

Bella hated when she did that.

When she was left alone, Bella sat in the middle of the floor, with her room half unpacked around her.  She supposed it was a metaphor for her current life.  Perhaps she was being maudlin.  Perhaps not.

It was not long before callers came.

Everyone wanted to meet Lady Swan and her daughter, Isabella. 

They were soon invited to the local assembly on the full moon not three days hence. 

Renee was certain she herself should dance as much if not more than Bella.  She went through all their trunks and found gowns of violet, which were barely appropriate for half mourning, and determined that she and Bella would look fine in them.

“We shall have to walk,” she determined the morning of the assembly.  “It is only three streets away and nobody of good standing will notice.  We shall do your hair so nicely, Bella, that all the young men will notice, and you shall be married before me so that I need not have a daughter in my new household.”

Bella held her tongue.

A letter had come in the post not a day before from Edward Masen and she had snuck it up to her room.  She should not know how she should answer without Renee knowing.  It was but two lines: I shall not forget you.  Do not forget me.  EM.  She thought Edward could have been a little more effusive given that there was space on the page, but at least he had thought to write at all.  She had never accused Edward of being a poet and he was only seventeen himself.

At the last moment, Renee decided that Bella should wear the pink, and she was stuffed into the silks with her hair curled into a twist and flowers placed into the overall style.

Renee, when she came out of her room, looked resplendent in violets and much more the beauty than Bella with her golden hair, beauty mark, and ample figure.

Bella was too tall, her figure too thin, and her hips too narrow to be called really pretty.  She was also dark.  She took after her father Charlie and looked nothing like her mother.  Most people did not even believe mother and daughter to be related until they were introduced to the family at large.

The Assembly was crushed, but Renee was certainly not wanting for partners.  As soon as Sir William Lucas introduced them to the parties, Oliver Hatfield asked her for a dance, followed by a Mr. Kenbridge, then Mr. Long, with Mr. Hatfield asking for a second and then fetching Renee a punch on the other side of the room.

Bella was quite content to sit in a chair and watch the dancing.  She was far more likely to step on a partner’s foot than not and did not like being regarded.

Even she, however, could not fail to notice when the Netherfield Party arrived.

“Who are they?” she asked a young lady who had been recently dancing and had come from the dancefloor.

“That,” she answered, “is Mr. Bingley.  He must be the one in the center.”

“Mr. Bingley,” Bella repeated.  “I am only late come into the neighborhood.  I have not heard his name.  Is he one of our important residents?”

“He has rented Netherfield Hall.  It is said he has brought twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him—and they shall all be here tonight at the assembly.”

Bella looked at the two men leading the group.  They were both tall.  The first was less so, affable looking, ginger with freckles.  Young, like Bella, perhaps recently out of Cambridge.  The other was taller and stern looking, with verdant eyes and broad shoulders.  She wondered which one was Mr. Bingley.  There were only two ladies with them, both ginger haired, and a third gentleman.

The lady Bella was speaking with was openly regarding the younger gentleman.  He was openly regarding her back.  Oh.  Perhaps there was a match.

Sir William Lucas was leading the party forward and motioning wildly.  Then he came up to Bella and the lady she had been speaking with.  Suddenly there was a crush of people and Sir William smiled at them.  “Mrs. Bennet,” he greeted—and Bella had no idea who ‘Mrs. Bennet’ was—“Mr. Bingley has expressed an interest in becoming acquainted with you and your daughters.”

“Oh,” a lady twittered, as fair haired as the young woman Bella had been speaking to.  Everyone around her curtseyed, so Bella curtseyed with them.  “That is very good of you, sir.—This is Jane, my eldest.”  The lady Bella had been speaking with curtseyed.  “And Elizabeth.”  Another young lady, with hair as honey blonde as Jane curtseyed on the other side of Mrs. Bennet.  Her blue eyes were mischievous.  “Mary,” Mrs. Bennet continued, “is sitting over there.”  She said no more about it.  “And Kitty and Lydia, my youngest, you see, they are already dancing.” 

The young man with ginger hair, who must be Mr. Bingley, turned to the dancing.  If he picked out Kitty and Lydia, he did not say.  Bella certainly couldn’t find them in the lines.

“And this,” Sir William inserted, “is Miss Isabella Swan, the daughter of the late Sir Charles Swan, baronet, also lately come to Meryton with her mother, Lady Swan.”  Having been indicated, Bella herself curtseyed perfectly, having been well taught by her governess.  She may step on men’s toes in a dance, but she could execute a curtsey.  She glanced up and caught the stern man’s gaze who seemed suddenly very interested in her.

“It is a pleasure,” Mr. Bingley offered.  “If Miss Bennet’s hand is not obliged for the next two—”

“She shall be most gratified,” Mrs. Bennet answered for her.

Jane blushed.

“Thank the gentleman, Jane,” her mother insisted.

The blush turned to one of shame.

The moment turned awkward.

The taller man shot a disapproving look at Mrs. Bennet before returning his attention to Bella.  “Miss Swan, I hope I may ask for the next two, with the permission of your excellent mother, of course.”

Renee, of course, was dancing again, but Bella knew she would have no objection.

“Of course, sir,” she murmured.  “However, I do not believe we have been introduced.”  She questioningly looked over at Sir William Lucas who had remained even after the preliminary introductions.

“Oh, forgive me, Miss Swan,” he implored her.  “This is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.”

Pemberley.  Pemberley.  She had never heard of it.  She wondered what part of the country it was in.

She nodded her head at Mr. Darcy in acknowledgement of the introduction.

When the music changed for the next set, Darcy offered her his hand and she obligingly slipped her hand in his.  She immediately did not like the sensation.  Something about his touch disquieted her, but she kept her discomfort to herself. 

He led her to the dance and they stood opposite from each other.

Darcy was rather tall, so she had to crane her neck to look up at him.  Bella was rather tall herself as a young woman, but Darcy was a great deal taller.  She wondered if they looked well together, both tall, both dark, both with flashing eyes.  Renee would certainly have an opinion.

“I understand you are lately come to Meryton,” Darcy stated with the downbeat.

It was a safe subject of conversation.

“I understand you are as well. I do not know the houses here about.  Is Netherfield a fine prospect?”  She led with her left shoulder and passed him in the center of the dance and then twirled, coming to face him again, and took his spot across the row.

“It is well appointed,” he agreed.

“We are so lately come into the neighborhood, I had not heard your name until you entered the ballroom,” she admitted.  “Then again, I have no father to introduce us.”

“We have been here but a fortnight.”

“We have been here but three days,” she told him.

His eyebrows shot up.  “Your ladies’ maid should be commended.”

Bella smiled to herself.  “Yes, Carrie can work wonders.”  She turned in place and went down the line. 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Renee further up in the line, dancing with a man that could barely be old enough to attend the assembly.  Bella kept herself from sighing and forced a tight smile on her face and returned her attention to Darcy.

“Sir William did not say which house in the neighborhood you have taken,” Darcy said, opening a new line of inquiry.

The smile on Bella’s face turned into a grimace.  “We are situated in Meryton,” she informed him.  “Cousin Lewis inherited the estate and the title.”

Darcy was silent for a moment as they both came forward, leading with their left shoulders, and turned forward, facing each other.  He looked down at her, catching her eye, and she was startled at just how green his eyes were.  Darcy’s arms fluttered toward her, his sleeve and the breadth of his pinkie finger catching the edge of her glove as they twirled back to back before switching places again.

Bella’s breath caught.

Darcy was a competent dancer.  She did not think he touched her by accident.  The move had been a calculated one.

However, instead of a frisson of excitement at the touch, Bella felt a shiver of dislike.

She fought to remain composed.  Bella was, after all, the daughter of a baronet.  She may not hold a title herself, but she was of elevated birth.

“What drew your excellent mother to Meryton?” Darcy inquired.

Bella did not miss a step, however much she should like to tread on Darcy’s foot.

“It was recommended by our solicitor,” she answered truthfully.  They had been looking for somewhere cheap to rent where their reduced circumstance would not reach the ears of their friends or, indeed, London society.  Meryton and, in fact, Hertfordshire seemed out of the way.  It was the backwater of society. 

Renee meant to catch a husband for herself and Bella, but any husband they should find would be greatly beneath them.

Bella regarded Darcy.  “How was Meryton recommended to you, sir?”

The downbeat sounded, they each turned and moved one up the line, the dancers moving around them.

“Bingley,” Darcy answered her, “wishes to try his hand at estate management before he should purchase himself.  Netherfield is a fine prospect for such a task.” 

Bella glanced down the line to see where Bingley was dancing with Jane Bennet.

“The two ladies in your party,” Bella inquired.  She spied one of them dancing.  The eldest, if she had the right about it.  “Are they Mr. Bingley’s sisters?”

“Yes, Mrs. Louisa Hurst and Miss Caroline Bingley,” Darcy informed her.

“A happy family party,” Bella decided. 

The clarinet sounded the ending of the dance and Bella obligingly curtseyed.  Darcy bowed.

As it was only the first of the set, they remained in place, waiting for the next to begin.  Bella wished the set would be over so she could go back to her chair.  If the night could be finished, she would be much obliged. 

“Do you have any younger sisters, Miss Swan?” Darcy asked into the silence.

No, no she didn’t. 

“I am an only child,” she confessed.  “And you, sir?”

“A younger sister,” he told her.

“Is she a member of your party?  I do not believe I saw her.”

“No,” he informed her.  “Georgiana is in London with the masters.”

“Does she play and sing?”

The downbeat sounded and Bella reached out with her right and as Darcy did the same and they turned around each other before retaking their places.  Bella was wearing evening gloves so she did not have to touch Darcy skin to skin, but she still did not like taking his hand.  There was something unpleasant about him.  There was nothing wrong in his person.  Indeed, he could even be called handsome.  He was not unpleasant to converse with, if not a little bit stern.  It was only, when he touched her, she had this notion that she would prefer it if he should never touch her again.

“Georgiana plays most proficiently.”

They were once again in the line.

“I had to leave my pianoforte at Kenbridge,” she told him a little sadly.  “The new Lady Swan has the privilege of playing on it, not half as well, I am sure, as Miss Darcy.”

She reached out and grasped hands with Darcy again, turning in place before retaking her place.

Bella had to fight off a grimace. 

Renee caught her eye encouragingly from up the line.  At least she seemed well pleased in her partner.

“You do not have a pianoforte in your new residence?” Darcy inquired.

“I daresay there is not an instrument that would do the parlor justice,” Bella told him as the couple to their left skipped between them.

What she really meant was no pianoforte was compact enough to fit inside the parlor.  Even if they could find one, they could not afford to purchase it.  Bella’s allowance would not stretch that far.  She also preferred not to hear Renee try to play and sing.  Her mother was tone deaf.

“You do play then,” Darcy checked.

“And sing,” Bella answered with a wistful smile.  “I suppose there may be occasions for me to perform in the neighborhood.  Sir William was mentioning, not an hour ago, that he was having a gathering at Lucas Lodge.  He promised me that there was a pianoforte there.”

“All is not lost then,” Darcy murmured, his voice taking on a gentling tone. 

Bella wondered at it.  It seemed unlike his character, although she had known him for all of a quarter of an hour.

They took each other’s hands one last time and the clarinet sounded the end of the song.

Bella was relieved.  She curtseyed obligingly, a large smile on her face due to her relief, and clapped for the quintet.  Allowing Darcy to lead her off the floor, she was startled when he offered to fetch her a punch.

“Oh,” she murmured.  Then without having a reason to refuse, she quickly thanked him.

Renee was brought over by the young man who had danced with her.

“Oh, Bella!” she declared.  “Is this not a wondrous night?”

“You have danced every dance,” Bella noted, a little disapprovingly.  “You do not lack admirers.”

“Charlie always said I was a lovely woman,” Renee agreed, not catching Bella’s tone.  “But you have been dancing, I see!  Who is the gentleman?”

“One of the Netherfield party,” Bella replied.  “A Mr. Darcy.”

“Indeed.”  Renee smiled slyly.  “What do we know of him?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Bella lied.

A portly gentleman came up, cheeks red, smiling, and asked Renee for a dance.  She smiled at him, locked eyes with Bella, but allowed herself to be led away.  Bella did not believe that either of them had been introduced, which was most improper.  Renee would not care, however, as long as he had two thousand a year and an estate that would support her spending habits.

Darcy appeared not two minutes later with a punch for Bella.  She accepted it graciously and allowed him to lead her to a chair.

“Perhaps I should return you to your excellent mother,” Darcy suggested after five minutes of silence, all the while he stared at her quite openly.  “I should very like to make Lady Swan’s acquaintance.”

“Renee is dancing,” Bella informed him, gesturing to the dancefloor.  The portly gentleman looked like he was wheezing, but he was still trying to keep up with Renee.  “I do not believe I have been introduced to her partner.”

Darcy turned to look, his eyes scanning the dancers.  Clearly not picking Renee out of the crowd, Bella leaned forward and murmured, “She is the woman who looks but twenty in the violet dress with the gentleman in the burgundy coat.”  She leaned back.  Wishing she had a fan to hide her blush, Bella looked off at the crush on the other side of the assembly room.

There were several moments of silence.

“You do not resemble your mother,” Darcy commented after some time.

“I do not,” Bella agreed, turning back to him.  “I am the spitting image of my father.”  Her dark eyes flitted for a moment before she looked down at her shoes that were peeking out from under her gown.

“Lady Swan appears to enjoy the dance.”

“She always has,” Bella agreed.  “Charlie’s death has not changed that.”  She glanced back up at Darcy.  “Do not judge her harshly.  I am afraid I possess all the solemnity in the family.”

“You wear it quite well for a young lady your age.”

Bella appreciated the compliment and sat a little taller.

At that the dancing concluded, Renee was led off to the other side of the assembly room.  Bingley, however, led over his dance partner, a woman of about thirty whom Bella did not recognize.

“Well, what a lovely night of festivities!” he greeted.  “Darcy, I do not believe you have met Miss Lucas.—and have you met Miss Swan?”

Bella nodded her head at Miss Lucas.  She was undoubtedly Sir William Lucas’s daughter.

“Well,” Bingley said, nodding to Miss Lucas—and then he promptly left her with Darcy and Bella before going in search of his next dance partner.

Bella watched him in astonishment.

“Oh dear,” Miss Lucas sighed, watching him go.  She then turned to Darcy and Bella, curtseyed, and begged them to excuse her.  She went off in search of friends, Bella presumed.

Bella tried to hold in her laughter at the ridiculous situation, but one glance at Darcy’s stern face, and a giggle escaped her.

Darcy just gave her an even sterner look.

“Is he always like that?” she asked, smiling to herself.  “Abandoning dance partners with you and going in search of the next pretty face?”  Bella noticed that he was now leading another of the Bennet daughters onto the dance floor. 

Darcy, for a moment, seemed interested, but then returned his attention to her.  Darcy showed no emotion on his face.

After the dance had well started up and they had watched Bingley—and Renee—dance for several minutes with their new dance partners, Darcy admitted, “Bingley usually knows better.  He must have been emboldened by your presence.”

Smiling to herself, Bella smoothed out her skirts.  “Well,” she decided.  “The assembly is a decided success for Bingley.  He has danced with many a pretty partner.”

Turning to her, Darcy noted, “He has not danced with you.”

Shocked, Bella looked into her verdant eyes and was struck at the feeling in them.  “I am not comely,” she told him.

“I beg to disagree.”

Bella felt a blush climbing up her neck and tried to will it away.  “I—I was not looking for a compliment, Mr. Darcy,” she admitted, looking away toward the dancers.

“I know you were not,” he told her, his hand wandering toward her chair and touching her pink skirts.  Bella was well aware of his closeness and felt her breath catch in dread.  “I should not like you half as well if you were.”

“It is only my late father’s title—” she suggested carefully.

“It is true my mother was the daughter of an earl,” Darcy admitted, “and I should wish to align myself with a woman of rank and family.”  He, too, was looking at the dancers.  His hand was still firmly placed on the edge of her pink skirts.  “However,” and now he turned to her and caught your gaze.  “Your eyes are wondrous.”

“My eyes?” she whispered.

“Yes, your eyes.  They are not blue, they are violet.”

Bella blinked rapidly several times and looked down at her hands.

“I embarrass you,” he suggested.

“No,” she whispered.  “It is only, Charlie—my father—used to call my eyes ‘violet.’  Everyone else think they’re black or even brown.”

“Brown,” he scoffed.  “What a plebian color.  They are so much more than that.  I should like my children to have eyes such as yours.”

The thought felt like a stone sinking in Bella’s stomach and brought her absolute horror.  She should hate to bear Darcy’s child and yet, somehow, she knew it could very well come to pass.