Excentryke's Musings

Title: My Isabella Marie
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandom: Bridgerton / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Hastings/Bella, (past) Hastings/Daphne, (future) Daphne/Prince Friedrich
Word Count: 1k
Rating: PG
Warnings: time travel, Volturi, class differences, soulmates, broken hearts
Prompt: for Haru who wanted Bella/Duke of Hastings where they are soulmates.  So sorry I ruined my last attempt!  Here’s a tiny little ficlet to make up for it.

My Isabella Marie

Bella knew the moment the Volturi found out.

She entered the throne room with Edward and Alice, and Lord Marcus sat up in his chair, his redder than blood eyes staring into hers.  She knew from Carlisle that he read relationships between people.  He knew—Marcus knew—just by looking at them that Edward and Bella weren’t soulmates.

With a quick unfurling of his hand toward Lord Aro, he knew as well.

“Well, well, well,” Aro greeted.  “This is interesting, is it not?”

“She has a soulmate,” Marcus intoned, his voice soft and ancient.  “A true soulmate.  She must be aware.”

Gripping Edward’s hand tighter, Bella looked between the three kings in fear.

Alice gasped.

That was the beginning of the end.

Now, Bella was in early nineteenth century London, having been guided there by Lord Marcus and sent back in time by one of Lord Aro’s protégés.  She made a living as a ladies’ maid to Miss Daphne Bridgerton.  She was waiting to meet her soulmate.  He had the most interesting name Bella had ever heard (it was tattooed on her spine, after all), and Bella was certain he was a member of the ton.  With a name like that, how couldn’t he be?

She was arranging the flowers in Daphne’s bedroom.

Plucking out a card, she read it.  “This one, miss,” she said, “is from—” she paused.

Daphne looked up.  “Yes?”

“Simon.”  Bella’s voice was flat and careful.

Laughing, Daphne went back to her book.  “Oh, yes.  Simon.”

Bella desperately wanted to learn Simon’s full name and his title.  “Which one is Simon?” Bella asked carefully.

Daphne smiled to herself.  “The Duke of Hastings.”

Yes, Bella thought to herself, the Duke of Hastings could be named Simon Arthur Henry Fitzranulph.  That was just the sort of pretentious name he would have.

The problem was that Bella was certain her mistress was in love with the Duke of Hastings and Bella was almost as certain that he was in love with her.

Her stomach clenched.

The Duke of Hastings sent flowers the next day.  He signed his name “Simon” again.

Bella wasn’t certain what she should do.

Desperate, she stole a sheet of paper from the Dowager Viscountess (which had her title imprinted on it) and borrowed a quill and dashed a note off to the Duke.  “My name is Isabella Marie,” she wrote in careful script.  “I am directly under your nose.”

She sealed it with Daphne’s seal and had the hallboy deliver it to Hanover Square before tea.  She knew that evening was the Smythe-Smith concert and Bella’s services would not be needed after she readied Daphne for the evening.  She couldn’t be certain the Duke of Hastings would read the note before that.

That evening, there was a ring at the servant’s door. 

Bella assumed it was the grocer.

When she was called down, she refused to let herself hope.

However, there, standing in the servant’s hall, was the Duke of Hastings.

Bella had seen him many times before.  He had gone on promenades with Daphne twice and Bella had accompanied them to the glacier.  She knew from Daphne’s dancing card that he escorted her at various balls and functions.

“Isabella Marie?”  His voice was hopeful, his dark eyes looking into hers imploringly.

She licked her lips carefully and curtseyed for form.  “I’m called ‘Bella,’ your grace.”

“Bella,” he sighed, coming up to her and taking her hands.  “I’ve had your name enscribed on my skin since I was a child.”

She blushed although she knew this was the case.  “So have I.  I didn’t know you were named ‘Simon’ until earlier today.”  She looked up at him.  Although she was tall, he was quite a bit taller.  “I do not mean to ruin your life.”

“You could never ruin my life,” he promised her.

“But Miss Bridgerton—”

He nodded.  “I will explain everything to your satisfaction upon our marriage.”  He took her in carefully.  “Besides, she is soon to be Prince Friedrich’s bride.”

Bella looked at him strangely.

“Queen Charlotte introduced them earlier this evening,” the Duke of Hastings explained.  “Now, is the Viscount in?  I need to speak to him.”

“I believe he is at the concert—” Bella explained carefully, not really believing the Simon she had dreamed of for years was here, now, in 1813 London.

“Then I shall wait for him.”  He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, sending a thrill through Bella.  “My Isabella Marie,” he whispered.  “All will be set right.”

And all was set right.  As soon as the Viscount Bridgerton returned from the concert, the Duke was waiting for him in his study.  Bella was told there was a bit of a row, but her marriage was arranged by special license and she was released from her duties, although she was permitted to stay in her room in the attic until the wedding.

“Do you like Prince Friedrich?” Bella asked carefully when Daphne came to visit her the day before the wedding.

The Duke of Hastings hadn’t explained they were soulmates.  There was no way to explain it.  Bella never knew of anyone else who had a name imprinted on their skin—and it was fantastical that they even met given that the Duke should have been cold in his grave by the time Bella was born.

Daphne hesitated.  “He is comely,” she agreed.  “He is certainly devoted.”

Bella smiled, thinking of the Duke, who came and took tea with her every morning in the small servants’ parlor.  “It is nice to have a man devoted.”

Daphne looked at her sadly.  “Yes,” she murmured.  “Yes, I’m sure it is.”

The End.