This song made me think of Peter and Maria
Disclaimer: These characters are the sole
property of Stephenie Meyer. I am just messing around with them.
A/N I don’t have a pre-reader or a Beta or
anything of the sort. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
-x-X-x-
A Love So Beautiful
Martha’s Vineyard,
United States of America 1891
The spring air feels lovely as it blows my bonnet away. I laugh as Peter
jumps from his horse and runs to fetch it.
“Really, Peter! It’s just some silly bonnet and not the first one I’ve
lost riding with you!” I yell at him.
He ignores me and fetches the wayward bonnet before the waves have the
opportunity to wash it away into the ocean.
“I present you your muddy bonnet,” Peter says as he hands me my very dirty
and sandy bonnet back.
“Well this one is ruined,” I laugh, giving a perfunctory glance at the spoiled
bonnet before throwing it away into the waves.
“Hey! I liked that one!” Peter protests.
“I know, I did too,” I reply before I urge my horse to continue.
“However, now I’ll win this race!” I add before I kick my heels and speed away
from him.
I laugh as I hear him swear behind me.
It has been almost a year since I was first introduced to Peter and so
much has changed but stayed the same as well.
I’m still hurting. I still miss Edward, but now it’s a dull pain that
throbs from time to time in my chest. Not the same acute ache that I used to
carry constantly.
I have my family to thank for my ability to laugh nowadays and surprisingly,
Peter as well. I believe that our unusual friendship has given me some perspective
about my own pain.
I guess one could say Peter and I have bonded over a shared bad luck in
love.
-x-X-x-
Martha’s
Vineyard, United States of America 1890
It had been a month of
Peter’s and Mrs Rothschild’s visits before he was able to truly converse with
me, and even then he seemed to be on guard.
Finally, on an opportunity
during which he have been acting particularly vexing, causing his mother to
retire to another room with my aunt. I had decided to confront him.
“Exactly, what is your
motivation to be so unpleasant?” I ask as Peter walks towards the fireplace and
stokes the dying embers with a poker.
“What do you mean?” he asks
trying to act as if he doesn’t know what I’m referring to.
I bristle at his attempt to
dismiss me as if I were a simpleton.
“I mean your animosity
towards your mother and anyone who dares to show you any kindness. Your
complete disregard for your own reputation and the way you seem determined to
make everyone think the worst of you. The way you’ve continued to see Mrs
Denali, even in spite of your mother’s constant requests to stop the affair. Do
I need to continue?”
I know it’s not my place to
question him or his actions but he seems to recoil whenever his mother does.
Also, I’m very aware of the fact that for some reason he continues to visit my
aunt’s residence, even when my father openly disapproves of any type of
friendship between us.
Yes, Charles Swan is not
happy with my aunt Leah for introducing me to a notorious rake.
He turns to me with menacing
eyes, the ones he uses to intimate people, push them away. I’m not going to
allow him to badger me like he does his mother. I’m not willing to let anyone
else badger me, like I was badgered out of Edward’s life by his father.
“Are you offering to take
Mrs Denali’s place?” he taunts when he’s near me, much too near me.
I gather my courage for I’ve
seen him use this technique before. If he thinks I’m going to wither under his
words he’s sorely mistaken.
“I’m offering no such thing!
I’m asking why you do everything you can to hurt your mother and hurt yourself
in the process? Do you think you can hide the way you wince every time your
mother looks at you with hurt eyes? Do you think you can hide how you brood
every time you disappear for a couple of days with that dreadful woman, Mrs
Denali? You don’t even like her, yet you amuse her only because it suits your
purpose to destroy everything that you once held dear!”
He looks at me, stunned into
silence. I realise I’ve just said all the right things that would hurt the
most, the deepest. It’s as if I grabbed the poker he’s holding in his hand and
twisted it inside his chest. For an instant I regret my words but then I
remember Mrs Rothschild’s hurt eyes and harden my stance.
“Why do you care?” he asks
in an almost childlike voice.
“Because, I have a feeling
you’re suffering from the same ailment I am. Only, I have family who
understands and supports me. Your mother, as lovely as she is, doesn’t
understand and you lash out at her. Am I correct?”
“What ailment are you
referring to? From what your aunt Leah has said to my mother you weren’t even
engaged to the boy you loved. I was left at the altar by the woman I loved. I
do not believe you could ever understand the pain and humiliation I’ve felt
these past months!”
Now, I’m the one stunned
into silence. He was engaged? Aunt Leah never mentioned a broken engagement.
“Your mother, aunt Leah,
they never knew did they? It was a secret engagement?” I ask as a new
realization dawns on me.
He turns towards the
fireplace again, avoiding my gaze and says, “It was an unsuitable match. My
mother would have never approved. She was an actress. Entirely unfitting to
marry a man of my rank, and yet I loved her enough to offer for her hand.”
My stomach turns at the
picture of an even younger Peter, buying a ring for a woman who ultimately hurt
him so deeply he feels the need to hurt all those who dare love him.
“What happened?” I ask in in
a whisper.
“I was a fool, that’s what
happened!” he yells and hits his fits against the wall once. I go to him and
grab his hand without regard for my own safety. I haven’t seen pain like this
since the last time I spoke with Edward.
“Let go of me,” Peter
whimpers but I ignore him. I know deep down he won’t hurt me.
We stand in silence for a
long time.
“Her name was Maria. She was
beautiful and older. I never asked her age, but she had to be at least twenty
seven. I was so fascinated by her. She was sophisticated and worldly. I was
only seventeen when I met her and had no defences against her wiles. She
bewitched me and before I knew what was happening I was under her spell.”
I listen to him, not trying
to fill the silence with any of the platitudes my parents have fed me thus far.
No words can soothe you when your heart is broken as his and mine are.
“I bought her expensive
jewellery, an apartment in one of the finest neighbourhoods in Manhattan, her
own coach, everything I could afford to make her happy, everything she asked I
gave it to her. I wanted to win her favour, make her look my way. I thought my
money could help me gain her love; make me stand out amongst the string of
admirers that always followed behind her. For a while, it seemed as my efforts
were successful.
“I proposed and she greedily
accepted. After all, a woman of her age and with her reputation could do far
worse than the heir of a railway fortune. We set a date and started
preparations for a quick and small wedding. I never told mother because I knew
she would try to convince me to balk from the engagement. A day before we were
supposed to marry I went to her house. The maid didn’t want to let me in at
first but I was so insistent she let me pass in the end.”
I gulp, because I can only
imagine what his unannounced visit revealed for him.
“I heard Maria giggling.
Whenever I visited I always went straight to her room. We were beyond such
proprieties. Her room was practically mine, or so I thought.”
I feel him clenching his
fist which it’s still engulfed in my hands.
“She was with another man, some
nobody that worked in the theatre where she used to perform. She was in her chemise, sitting on his lap,
feeding him the strawberries I always used to buy her because she loved them so
much. He was naked. It was obvious I had intruded in the interlude of their
encounter. They were celebrating. And why wouldn’t they? They had this poor
rich ninny buying them everything they could have ever dream of, and the next
day Maria would have had unrestricted access to my accounts as my wife.”
“Oh heavens,” I whisper; only
imagining the sting of such betrayal makes my heart ache. How could have Peter
survived it without being forever changed? The answer is that he didn’t, he was
irrevocably changed by the experience.
My aunt told me he was
another person, not the boy she had grown to love as if he were her nephew. I
did not quite understand the extent of the change until that moment.
“I asked her why? Why not
accept my gifts and remain as my mistress? Why accept my marriage offer? You
know what she said?” he inquires finally meeting my eyes.
I shake my head and allow
him to continue. I can’t begin to imagine what a woman like that could have
said.
“She said that a boy like me
was only good for one thing. I was only good enough to be her bank account. I
was boring in bed, inexperienced and dull she said. She admitted that she would
never have paid me any attention if her lover wouldn’t have mentioned I was set
to inherit the Rothschild fortune.”
I’m appalled by the
bluntness and hatefulness of the woman’s words. She plunged a knife through
Peter’s heart and twisted it until there was nothing left but unrecognisable
pieces.
He’s right, compared to his,
my story is almost laughable. I may be in pain but at least Edward never made
me feel as if I was nothing but dirt on his shoes. He loved me until the last
minute, until there was no hope for us. Peter had loved a woman, loved her
still in spite of the hurt, but his love was never requited.
“It’s that why you keep
seeing that woman? Mrs Denali? You’re trying to prove that you can satisfy and keep
the affections of a woman like Maria?” I probe.
“Have I told you scare me,
Bella?” he replies, lifting his hand with mine still wrapped around it. He kisses
the back of one of my hands, in a gesture of gratefulness.
“Why? Because I’m so
incredibly witty?” I joke, trying to diffuse the tense atmosphere that has
descended upon us.
“No, because you’re the only
one who can read me like a book.”
-x-X-x-
Martha’s
Vineyard, United States of America 1891
Ever since that day Peter and I have formed some sort of alliance. He
still keeps seeing Mrs Denali, but I’ve noticed his interest waning in time.
She is the one pursuing him now, and a part of me knows that he takes perverse
pleasure on that fact.
I cannot begrudge his unkindness towards Mrs Denali though, because in
time my heart has hardened as his. I am not sure I will be able to spare any sympathy
on Edward if we ever meet again.
At first I tried to justify his lack of communication with fear, fear of
his father intercepting his letters, fear of stressing his ailing mother.
However, after some time none of the excuses I’d created seemed to work
anymore. I became embittered and sometimes the mere mention of Edward makes me
go into a state of anger I can hardly control. It is only through my friendship
with Peter that I have managed to remain true to myself and not act on any of
my self-destructive inclinations.
“Aha!” I hear Peter yell from my side. He and his horse catch up easily
with mine because I still refuse to let him teach me how to ride like a man. There’s
only so much speed I can gain side-saddle.
“Damn it!” I swear, one of the few unsavoury things I’ve picked up by
spending time with Peter. At least unsavoury in the eyes of my father, I find
it terribly hilarious.
-x-X-x-
Martha’s
Vineyard, United States of America 1890
After that conversation in
my aunt’s library, Peter and I remained mostly silent about our pasts. One day
though, Peter surprised me by asking an unexpected question while we were
riding on the beach.
“Do you still love him?”
I turn to look at him and
for an instant I don’t understand his question. But then the dull ache, my old
companion, reminds me of whom Peter is referring to.
“I think I always will,” I
reply simply and honestly.
“Do you still love her?” I
enquire as well.
Peter takes a moment to mull
over my question and then says, “Have you read Byron?”
I blink confused by the non
sequitur.
“Just a few poems,” I reply.
“I’m not very fond of him,
but one of my tutors was obsessed with his work and made me read a few of his
poems repeatedly. One of his favourites was a poem called ‘When we Two parted.’”
“What does the poem say?” I
ask, indulging whatever whim made him remember his tutor’s love for Byron.
“I don’t remember it all,
but there’s a phrase that stayed with me that I find relevant for our
situation.”
I wait for a while before he
recites the few lines he remembers from Byron’s poem.
“In secret we met—
In silence I
grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit
deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long
years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence
and tears.”
I make my horse stop and
guide it to stand in front of Peter’s horse.
“I don’t understand,” I
declare.
“If you and this Edward
should ever meet again, I think you and him would meet in silence and tears
like Byron’s poem states. You two have unfinished business. Your relationship
was not only romantic like Maria’s and mine was. You two were best friends from
what I gathered. Even if this meeting occurs years from now, I believe there
would still be some feelings between you. Maybe it won’t be love, but something
will still be there. What Maria and I had ran its course and ended in a horrible
note. It’s over though. I have no more silence and tears to spare on her.”
I’m shocked by Peter’s
insightful reply. I’ve always known he is an intelligent man, in spite of the
way he only uses his cleverness to seduce women. However, his thoughts show a
level of analysis I did not expect from him. I feel hopeful that he’ll be able
to move on from the heartache.
I know that you can’t
replace someone when for some reason he’s taken from your life. I know Peter
will never replace Edward. But at least in his friendship I find solace, I find
a kindred spirit, even if what unites us is our pain.
-x-X-x-
Martha’s
Vineyard, United States of America 1891
“I win!” I shout as I climb down from my horse in front of Aunt Leah’s
house.
“You cheat!” Peter accuses as he stops his horse in front of me.
“I did not cheat! I told you to leave the bonnet, but you just had to be
a gentleman and recover it for me,” I say in a sarcastic tone.
“I don’t have to be a gentleman. I am one, no trying involved,” he says
as he descends from his horse.
I’m about to interject something when I hear my aunt’s voice calling me
from the porch.
“Bella!” she calls as she descends the stairs in a hurry followed by one
of her maids.
“What is the matter, Aunt Leah?” I question, curious and apprehensive as
I catch sight of my aunt’s expression.
“A letter, from England,” she replies breathlessly.
I blink, taken aback by my aunt’s frightful eyes. Alice writes regularly.
Why is she so shaken by one of her letters?
“It’s from Edward,” she adds in a whisper, and I feel as if I’ve been
punched in the stomach.
-x-X-x-
So, time jumps…they were necessary! Probably last update till Monday. My friends
are kidnapping me this weekend… So, er…cliffy, I know. Bad, bad Ange. *hides
under a rock*
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