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
London, England
1894
“What are you doing here?” I ask in what I hope is a steady voice. It
seems like such a silly question to ask. After all this time apart there are a
million questions swirling in my mind but that seems like the most innocuous.
“I came to see you,” he whispers in response and I see a flicker of the
old Edward in him. The Edward that dreamt of a world in which the two of us could
marry, the Edward who wasn’t strong enough to fight to make that world a
reality.
“You came to see me?” I question in a tone that does not disguise my anger.
My anger at Edward’s lack of fortitude when I needed him to break down all the
walls to be by my side. My anger towards Lord Carlisle and his ambitions. My
anger towards Victoria and her obsession with Edward. Anger that I had thought
long buried.
“Yes,” Edward replies as he walks towards me. I stand up and take a few
steps back, away from him and my confusion at seeing him again.
“I’m sorry,” he says as he stops a few steps away from me, aware of the
fact that I’m distancing myself from him—more than physically away.
“You need not be sorry, other than for visiting me when I’m alone without
a chaperone. We’re not sixteen anymore, Edward. People will talk if they learn
of this visit,” I fix him with my eyes, trying to show him with them that it’s
not okay to disrupt my peace like this, like he always does.
“You didn’t use to care about what people say? In fact, I remember you
suggesting that we ran away to America without my parents’ consent when we were
not of age yet,” he replies, his eyes narrowed, zeroed on me.
We are dancing a dangerous dance of wills, tethering on the edge of
cutting the other deeply.
I try to maintain my wits about me. I gain nothing from a confrontation
with him.
“It’s different now. As I just stated I’m not sixteen anymore. You’re
married,” I almost spit that last word at him, “and I’m as good as betrothed,”
I lie.
His expression changes. It goes
from devilish to dark and calculating. This is not the Edward I knew and the
reality of it frightens me as well as excites me. There’s a deeply buried part
of me that still hopes for the Edward strong enough to battle dragons and slay
them for me. This new Edward looks capable of eating dragons alive to keep me
by his side.
“As good as betrothed?” he enquires in a calm voice that belies the annoyance
hidden behind his green eyes. “I wasn’t aware that one could be almost
betrothed. How does one go about being as
good as betrothed?”
“Why are you really here?” I question, changing the subject.
“Can’t I visit my long lost best friend?” he replies sardonically.
“Yes,” I answer tentatively. “You can visit your friend. However, it
seems very convenient that you happen to call the moment my parents and aunt
leave me alone.”
“A blessed coincidence,” he shrugs.
“Somehow, I doubt it. Please leave, Edward. You may return when my
parents are at home.”
“Please don’t send me away. I only want to speak,” he says, his eyes
pleading. I don’t trust the way those eyes switch from menace to begging in an
instant.
Nonetheless, I trust the old Edward enough to know he won’t intentionally
hurt me. He’s here, what more damage can be done if I just allow him to speak?
“Very well, please take a seat,” I say as I point to a chair in front of
the one I was previously sitting at.
Once we are both seated I try to ignore the tingling that covers my
entire body just being in the presence of Edward. A feeling I had not
experienced since I was a young girl.
“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” Edward starts and I’m
taken aback by the earnest way in which he speaks his compliment.
“Thank you,” I reply quietly. The air around us feels charged, as if time
had stopped years ago, as it felt in our meadow after we shared our first kiss.
“How are you?” I ask with honest interest. Apart from his success as a
businessman I know nothing of what he has been through these last few years.
“Apart from the fact that my marriage is a sham and my father and I haven’t
spoken to each other since I discovered what he was doing with my letters to
you, I’m well. I’m the richest man in England and my sister is having a baby.
At least, now I don’t have to worry about providing an heir to the Masen line.”
The way in which Edward delivers his news, unfeelingly, as if he truly
didn’t care about the way in which his personal life is in shambles, breaks my
heart for him. He may be the richest man in England, yet I’m almost certain he’s
the unhappiest.
“I’m sorry,” I say, because I’m at a loss of what else to say.
He smiles gently and replies, “Why should you feel sorry? You did
everything right, Bella. You were a girl of sixteen and yet you did everything
you could, asked your father’s help, everything so we could be together. I was
a weakling and I’m merely paying for my cowardice. Every decision has its
consequences. I chose, at the time the one I believed I could live with. I didn’t
realise at sixteen exactly what I was sacrificing.”
“I wish you weren’t so severe in your judgement of your decisions. As you
said, you were sixteen, and you were not raised by the same parents I was nor
were you under the same expectations. My father’s only expectation in me was
seeing me happy. He believes that people should do and live as they see fit as
long as they don’t harm others. Your father ingrained in you a sense of duty
towards your family and towards the peerage that moved you to make those
decisions. You only acted the way you were raised. I’ve come to terms long ago
with it, and I don’t think your actions were a reflection of what you felt for
me.”
“It was not,” he says, after which we remain quiet for long moments.
“You said you were almost betrothed,” he comments, breaking the silence.
I blush and look away before I face him again. When I said that, it felt
like a good idea to discourage any bizarre idea Edward may still have about us
being together, however now I feel bad for lying to him.
“I’m not. Well, Peter is courting me but he hasn’t asked my father for my
hand. It’s all fairly new,” I reply stumbling along my words.
Edward grins, and my breath catches at the sight. He’s so beautiful. He
always was, even at sixteen he was already in route of becoming one of the most
devastatingly handsome men in England. However, now that I sit next to the
reality of him, it seems hard, next to impossible to remain impassive in his
presence. He still affects me like so many years ago.
“It seems to me as if this Peter may be more interested in your hand than
you’re in giving it to him,” Edward says. I don’t notice any trace of malice in
his comment, more like genuine curiosity.
“As you can guess I have a natural reluctance towards marriage due to some
bad past experiences,” I reply with more bitterness in my voice than I
intended.
“I’m sorry—” I start to apologize, but Edward stops me by shaking his
head.
“Please don’t be, I deserved that.”
I only nod and stare at my lap.
“Bella,” Edward whispers, and as I lift my gaze I’m surprised by finding
him kneeling next to me. His green eyes are fixed on mine and full with unshed
tears. My own eyes are blurry and I feel my chest tighten due to Edward’s close
proximity.
I gasp as Edward’s thumb traces my lower lip. He’s so close I can breathe
his scent and fill my lungs with it. I can hear his heart beating in his chest
as erratically as mine is beating.
“I wish—” he says and stops choked as I am by the many feelings this
encounter is stirring. “I wish there was a way that I could go back to that
meadow and not kiss you. Sometimes, I think that if I hadn’t kissed you, I
might have resigned myself to my father’s mandates and you would have been
spared so much suffering.”
“I wouldn’t have,” I interpose as Edward’s thumb caresses the wet skin of
my cheeks.
“Maybe,” he concedes. “It doesn’t matter now. I made so many mistakes and
hurt you unjustifiably. During all this time I imagined you in America, happy,
maybe even married, with beautiful babies like their mother.”
“Why are you here, Edward?” I reiterate my earlier question. I sense
there’s a deeper purpose to Edward’s visit he has not disclosed yet.
“I wasn’t sure. One of my associates heard of your arrival and for some
reason I came to your house and waited. I told myself I only wanted to see you,
even from afar. I promised myself I would not approach you. I would only see
with my own eyes that you were happy, safe…”
“Then why are you kneeling in front of me now?” I question.
“Because you have this pull over me that has only become stronger in
time. I had half convinced myself that I was over my feelings for you. I told myself
that I could come here and stand outside, that if I could just see you I would
be satisfied. I was a fool. As soon as your parents and aunt left I walked up
to your door and rung the bell.”
I have to keep repeating in my head, he’s
married, he’s married. As much as I want to believe myself strong enough to
face Edward, the way he’s caressing my face with his hand is making me dizzy.
My skin feels raw wherever he strokes. I’m torn between pushing him away and
grabbing the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer.
“Edward, you’re married,” I gasp as his fingers start a descent towards
my neck, towards my chest.
Edward looks at me as if I’ve spoken in gibberish. He blinks and a couple
of tears spill from his eyes. His eyes are red-rimmed. His body sprung tight,
like a cat about to pounce on a mouse.
“I can’t—” he says and stops. He gets closer and closer until his lips
are hovering over mine. We are sharing one breath, unmoving, waiting for the
other’s reaction.
“What?” my trembling lips whisper.
We are so close together, his hand placed right above my thumping heart.
I can feel as Edward’s body shudders, as if moved by a powerful emotion beyond
his control.
“How did we end up here?” he asks in a whisper as he caresses my lips
with his. Now I’m the one trembling, gasping, gulping, spiralling out of
control in sensations far stronger that what I’ve ever felt before in my life.
“You would not fight for us,” I murmur against Edward’s mouth. Our
breaths ragged, our eyes fogged by tears.
“I know it’s late,” he says in a hoarse voice. “But I would sell my soul
to the devil for a taste of your lips. I want you, love you so much still,
Bella.”
I should not be affected by his words. I should not care about what he
wants or feel anything for this man kneeling before me. Yet, I shiver in
delight at his words. I move myself closer, trying to shorten the distance
between our mouths and finally, after all this time have a taste of heaven.
Regardless, of marriages, the consequences, or who I may hurt with my actions.
I’m so beyond caring at this point.
Our moment is broken when someone knocks at my door and Edward and I
split apart as if hit by lightning bolt.
“Damn it all!” Edward hisses as he walks towards the door and opens it.
I’m breathing rapidly as if I had run a race across half of London.
Bessie is standing outside. She’s fidgety and obviously scared on my
behalf.
“I told you we were not to be interrupted,” Edward growls at the poor
girl.
“I’m sorry, my Lord. But…but Mr Rothschild is here to see Miss Bella.”
“Peter,” I gasp. He’s here. Oh no!
Edward studies me carefully while I try to regain my composure. He turns
to Bessie and says, “Well, girl. Let him in. We don’t want Mr Rothschild
waiting in the foyer. He’s Miss Bella’s intended after all.”
Bessie nods and hurries away from Edward as fast as she can.
“You must leave immediately” I announce, rising from my chair and wiping
my tears on a napkin.
“Why?” Edward inquires in that same derisive tone he used when he first
entered my parlour. “I thought you could not receive gentlemen while you were unchaperoned.
Or is it just me you can’t receive without a duenna in presence?”
“Please, Edward. Don’t play with fire,” I reply in a harsh tone in spite
of my request.
“I’m not afraid of getting burned, not anymore,” he retorts as the door
opens behind him.
“Bella,” Peter says as he walks in. He acknowledges Edward with a tilt of
his head but walks straight towards me before he asks who he is.
“A friend of the family,” I respond before Edward can take the honours
from me. “He was just passing by and stopped to present his regards to my
father.”
“Peter Rothschild,” Peter says extending his hand in greeting in the
American way.
In spite of his status, Edward follows Peter’s game and shakes his hand
as any other mortal would had he not been born as part of the nobility.
“Lord Edward Cullen.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were a Lord. Should I call you my Lord and bow to you?” Peter says in
his usual teasing tone, but I can tell from his arm wrapped around my own arm
that he’s tensed as the cord of a washing line.
“No need. As Miss Swan said I’m a friend of the family,” Edward replies
still holding on to Peter’s hand—I suspect too tightly by the way Peter slightly
winces before he releases him.
“Well,” Edward says suddenly. “I hope you don’t mind me leaving, but as Miss
Swan said I was passing by.”
He looks at me with an unreadable expression and bows, “Miss Swan.”
I muster all my inner strength to appear as unaffected as I can when I
reply, “My Lord.”
He gives one last disdainful look towards Peter’s arm around mine and
walks out of the room.
Peter turns to me and enquires, “Was that him? Your Edward?”
“He’s not mine,” I say defensively.
“I know. What I meant was—”
“I don’t want to discuss it. Can we talk about it later? Please,” I
beseech.
Understanding my need to process my encounter with Edward, Peter changes
the subject even though I know curiosity is eating at him. I’ve never
appreciated my friend’s empathy as I do now while he respects my wish not to
discuss it.
-x-X-x-
After Peter leaves, I lock myself in my room to rest and ruminate about
my first encounter with Edward. The new version of him, at least.
“Miss,” I hear Bessie call from the door.
“What?” I say in a harsh tone. I’m so tired. I just want to be left alone
to think.
She walks up to me with a nervous expression and I try to soften mine so
I don’t scare her. None of this mess is her fault.
“Lord Cullen left a note before he left and he instructed me to deliver
it to you as soon as Mr Rothschild left.”
I stare at the piece of folded paper in Bessie’s hand and I take it with trembling
fingers.
Bella,
Years ago I wasn’t strong
enough to fight for you. I was a fool, gullible, a puppet in my father’s hands.
I’m no longer a puppet, and I’m prepared to fight for the right to call you
mine again.
Forever yours,
E
-x-X-x-
Thanks to Elizabeta1994
for her reviews. I’m past 100 reviews on Fanfiction.net thanks to you :)
Er… so let
“The Pissing Games” begin? May the odds be ever in your favor! :D
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