Duty and Desire chapter 7: Univited guests

I do not own Twilight or Pride and Prejudice




Day Three

I hurried through my morning routine. I needed to post my letter to Alice before going out; I was in need of a good hard ride. I had been too restless as of late, and had a lot of pent up frustrations that needed to be released.

After paying the courier, I walked quickly to the stables where Blackjack was saddled and waiting for me. I checked his harness and reins, as well as the saddle. I really only trusted myself when it came to saddling my horse; it would not be the first, nor the last time, that a gentleman had been thrown from a horse due to the laziness of a stable hand. When everything was to my satisfaction, I mounted the saddle and with a nudge to his flanks, Blackjack took off in a gallop. “I rode hard; sensing my frustration, Blackjack didn’t hold back.” I pushed harder. After a good length, I slowed to a trot as we passed through the woods. The road was still wet from rain; I was not willing to risk injury to my horse or myself. I breathed in deep; the air was cool and damp. It was soothing.

I was still far from reconciling my feelings for Isabella she haunted my thoughts. She was beautiful and had a stunning intellect, as her reading habits would suggest. Her fiery spirit was perhaps what drew me the most. She was unafraid and justly put the harpy in her place. Yet this was not enough, attraction was not enough, to throw away everything I had been taught simply for my own needs. I would be ostracized by my family; it would damage Alice’s chances of making a good marriage. I could not justify my happiness if it meant hurting hers. Though I knew Jasper would marry her regardless, we would taint them by association, not to mention any children we had would also bear the burden.

I had a duty to my family, and I would not sacrifice their future for my own desires.

As I approached another lane I was still wrestling with my feelings. I cautiously stepped into the lane, turning my head to my left, expecting to see nothing. I was stunned to see none other than Isabella, standing in the middle of the lane, and I pulled back on the reins. Blackjack gladly complied.

We looked intently upon one another, but neither of us made any effort to speak. Isabella’s complexion was flushed, as if she had been running. I noticed her eyes sparkled, no doubt from her walk, it seemed she was happiest when she was out of doors. I felt a pang of sadness that I would never see her eyes shine for me. I wanted to memorize her just as she was now, happy and free. I watched as her lips pulled into a half smile as she bent to curtsy. I expected a greeting, yet she said nothing.

I nodded curtly, and turned in the opposite direction.

As I rode, Isabella’s face swam through my mind: her lips, beautiful hair, eyes, all those soft subtle features that made her exquisite. I was only cantering and yet the ride was becoming painful. Searching for the source of the discomfort, I realized my body had reacted to her presence. With each post and movement of the horse I came in painful contact with the saddle.

That I was embarrassed would be grossly understating the matter. One would think I was a mere boy the way I had reacted to Isabella. I had better control than this, being reasonably familiar with female attentions. It was a right of passage, so to speak, for fathers to take their sons to the courtesan houses to be made into a man. Though acceptable, I found the practice distasteful, and unlike most of the men of my stations that frequented the courtesans, I never felt the need to search out women.

I wanted more from the act than mere release.

After I calmed myself the remainder of the ride was relaxing, and I arrived at Netherfield in a much better disposition than when I had left. The half smile she bestowed upon me suggested I was partly forgiven, but I was unsure as to what I could do at this point to at least establish a decent acquaintance with Isabella.

I didn’t want to leave knowing she hated me.

Miss Rosalie was well enough to join us in the music room after dinner; though she did not stay long, it was obvious her presence changed the atmosphere considerably. Emmett was constantly attentive, placing her near the fire, and providing her with whatever she required, much to the consternation of his sisters. The Shrews were kind in their own insincere way, and Bella sat near enough but didn’t interfere with Emmett.

I chuckled at the excessively diverting scene in front of me.

Tiring quickly, Miss Swan retired for the evening. Isabella escorted her up to her chambers and then returned not long after. Emmett and I were reading, trying our hardest to avoid conversation. Lauren was sitting next to Tyler, who of course was not conscious. The Harpy was prowling the room, for heaven knows what reason. I hid behind my book hoping she would leave me alone. When Isabella returned, the Harpy pounced.

“Miss Izabell, do follow my example and take a turn about the room, it is most invigorating.”

Miss Izabell?

I could tell from the look on Isabella’s face it was the last thing she wanted to do, but she would never offend Emmett. She grudgingly stood and took her arm.

“Edward you are welcome to join us, the exercise is most beneficial,”she cooed, though her voice sounded more like a blunt object scraping down a pane of glass. I shuddered involuntarily

“You could only have two motives Tanya, and I would interfere with both, I imagine.”

Momentarily shocked at getting any response from me, she recovered quickly.

“What is your meaning, Sir?” Looking at Isabella, I replied.

“Well, you either have matters to discuss that are private between ladies, and I have no desire to take part in that. Or you are conscious that your figures appear to the best advantage while walking. Thus I can best admire them from my current position.”

My eyes never strayed from her, and I thought I could detect a hint of blush in her cheeks.

The harpy frowned and Isabella looked a little shocked by my statement.

“Abominable reply, how should we punish him then?” she trilled.

“I would think the best course of action would be to do nothing at all.” Isabelle had recovered and looked unconcerned.

“Ah, but we must do something, such a speech surely deserves it.”

“Well, I suppose we could tease him, laugh at him,” she said with a smirk.

The Harpy grinned. Dear lord, it was frightening.

Just then her motives became clear. She was trying to trap Isabella into embarrassing herself.

“Oh my dear, one does not laugh at Mr. Masen. He is a man without fault,” she stated with finality.

“Really, Mr. Masen, a man without fault? How extraordinary, and to think I have been trying so hard to find a fault in you.”

“That is not possible, Madame, as well you know, I have faults just like any other man; however, I make it a point not to expose them as others do.”

“Everyone has their faults, sir; it is what makes us human.”

Touché.

“However, there are those that neither try, nor care, to better themselves, in which case I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others.” The thoughts of a man I once called friend caused my reply to sound harsher than I intended. “My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”

Sadly she shook her head. “Now that is a failing indeed, sir.”

With that, she sat back down and picked up her book.

“Tanya, would you care to play something for us on the piano forte?” Emmett asked, no doubt trying to diffuse the tension.

The Banshee sat and played the most ostentatious piece she could. Every note got progressively louder. That poor instrument did nothing to deserve the beating it was receiving.

After she finished and it was evident the instrument had not been permanently damaged, Emmett asked Isabella to play. At first she seemed hesitant, but Emmett’s enthusiasm seemed to win her over.

She carefully made her way over to the piano and began to play; it was soft and rhythmic. Each note was played with a purpose, nothing seemed forced. I was just settling into her piece when she began singing, her voice weaved a beautiful melody.

Her voice and style of playing was very similar to Alice’s and my mothers, subtle yet poignant.

I was enchanted.

Watching her face as she relaxed into her song; the happiness she exuded was breathtaking. Her song finished and I found myself overwhelmed by my feelings for this woman. Isabella was slowly stripping away each impediment I had, every barrier I threw up. She had scaled an impossibly high mountain, yet she could never reach the peak.

It was impossible; my duty to my family forbade it. The sadness and frustration I experienced was palatable.

I could feel everything, yet nothing.

I retired for the evening with a sense of dread; my dreams as of late had a haunting sense to them. I was never able to remember exactly what they were, but I would awake in a pool of sweat.

I lay down and closed my eyes, picturing Isabella as I had come to know her. She was beautiful, strong, intelligent, and everything I would ever want in a wife. I felt myself drift as I let the images of her wash over my mind, what it had felt like to hold her, to kiss her.

“Isabella…Where are you?” I called

I looked up and saw her at the top of the grand stair case. Her back was turned to me; perhaps she did not hear me. I called her name again, and she turned. As she looked at me she smiled, and it was beautiful. Bringing her finger up, she beckoned me to come to her. I smiled and began climbing the stairs. Before I reached the second stair, she turned and ran down the hallway toward my bedchamber.

I took the stairs two at a time, desperately in need to reach her. I saw the familiar oak door up head open and close, Isabella seemed well acquainted with the house. I ran faster upon reaching the door, I grasped the handle and threw open the door. I looked around at my empty bedchamber, confused. I called out to her, but received no response.

I heard footsteps lightly padding across the floor behind me; as I turned, Isabella stood before me in only her chemise. She went to stand by the fire and the glow lit the fabric, leaving nothing hidden. I could no longer contain myself; I went to her, pulling her into my arms. She looked into my eyes and smiled shyly.

“Edward,” she whispered, from her lips it sounded like a prayer.

I was consumed.

My hands moved to her shoulder, pulling on the delicate fabric. I wanted, no, I needed to touch her. I hungrily found her lips as my hand cupped her bottom, the other holding her firmly to my chest. Suddenly Isabella pulled away and looked into my eyes.

“Edward, what do you want from me?”

I was stunned.

I didn’t know how to answer her when, I myself, had been struggling for answers.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

Tears came to her eyes; one tear gently fell down her face.

“Edward, I won’t be your mistress I deserve better than that.”

Mistress!?

“Have I ever given you that impression, Isabella?”

“You kiss me and touch me, yet you are unwilling to give me your heart. What else can I conclude?”

With that, she turned and walked toward the door.

“NO, Isabella, stop! I love you!”

I went to grab her arm and she disappeared.

NO!!

Thud…

Jolted awake, I was dazed and panicked, sweat covering my body.

I had fallen from my bed; it was only a dream.

I sat on the cold floor, holding my legs close to my body. I laid my head on my arms, rocking back and forth, trying to find some semblance of calm. It was so real, every breath, every touch, every word, she captivated me utterly.

The realization hit me with a force I could scarcely comprehend. I had uttered words to her I had only told three people in the course of my entire existence. No matter that this was a dream, it was the truth.

I loved Isabella Swan.

Day Four

I knew, as daylight hit my window, that I was at a crossroads. My realization required that I make a choice. I knew that Isabella and her sister would be leaving tomorrow; I had heard her inform Emmett the previous day. Even though I knew it was only a dream, it seemed my subconscious was telling me something. I had kissed Isabella and only thought of the implications in a one dimensional way. It was apparent she neither wanted, nor expected, my hand in marriage.

I was at a loss as to why.

Was she betrothed?

My stomach churned painfully at the thought of her with another man. I knew it was irrational and unfair, yet I also knew that she would eventually marry.

“Damn it!!” I pounded my fist onto the floor in utter frustration.

How could fate be so cruel? To dangle the woman of my dreams, my soul mate, in front of me.

She was within my grasp, yet I could not reach out and claim her.

I was nearly going mad with frustration.

I was going around in a ridiculous circle of indecision, and I needed to make up my mind.

I loved her, yet I could not be with her. To continue to vacillate between decisions was not only unfair to her, but to me as well. She deserved more, and I intended to give her that. I would end the confusion. She could never be mine, and therefore I would step aside.

It was this thought I carried with me as I ran to purge the empty contents of my stomach.

The four of us sat at the breakfast table when the butler came to announce the arrival of some guests. I was surprised as it was a bit early for people to be calling without an invitation. My opinion of the manners possessed by residents of Hertfordshire was quickly withering away.

“Sir, a Mrs. Swan, a Miss Swan, a Miss Swan, and a Miss Swan.”

Oh good lord, the tabby cat mother.

“Good heavens are we to entertain every Swan in the county? Is it not enough that we have two already?” The Harpy shrieked.

“Tanya, please, Mrs. Swan’s daughter is ill and she is coming to check on her progress, can you begrudge her that? Besides, they are here on my invitation, so if you will kindly display the manners I know you posses, we would all be grateful.”

Manner! I think you should send her back to finishing school, Emmett, as she obviously missed those lessons.

We moved to the drawing room to join Mrs. Swan and her daughters. She was looking about the room; do doubt cataloguing the wealth before her.

“Sir, words can not express our gratitude for all you have done for my dear Rosalie.”

And all I hope you will do, no doubt she was thinking.

Isabella entered the room quietly, and took a seat on the sofa opposite her family. She seemed apprehensive, and dare I say a bit embarrassed. The change in her confused me, yet as the conversation continued the reasons became clearer.

“What a beautiful home you have here Mr. McCarty; such fine things, I can scarcely believe it. Why, these couches alone look very expensive.” She rubbed the material possessively, as if she was claiming them for her own.

“How do you find the neighborhood sir?”

More like, “How do you find my daughter”?

“I find it very well indeed; the people here have been very welcoming,” Emmett replied with excitement.

“And you sir, how do you find the society here?”

It took me a few seconds to realize she was talking to me.

“I find it completely sufficient, even if the society is less diverse than in town.”

There, that was a careful answer.

“Not at all, sir. I would have you know that we dine with many families of all shapes and sizes. All are gracious, compared to those who think themselves better than those half his rank.”

She was absolutely serious. It would be vulgar, if it was not so amusing.

“Mother, Rosalie seems to be doing much better. We plan on returning home tomorrow morning.”

I looked at Isabella’s face as it burned red; she was embarrassed at her mother’s ridiculous comments. I felt an overwhelming need to protect her, to take her away from a mother who cared more for frivolous things than decorum.

“Oh Isabella, I see no occasion for that, she would be much better here than at home. One can never be too careful with one’s health. Would not you agree Mr. McCarty?”

Emmett was about to agree, when Isabella cut him off.

“Mother we will be returning tomorrow, I am quite determined.” Though not rude, her tone was firm, the mother was about to respond when she added, “I do believe, Mr. McCarty, that Rosalie is much better and the doctor has determined she is well. We appreciate your kindness in allowing us to stay at your home.”

She really was a wondrous creature. Why did I think she needed protecting? I seemed to have already forgotten my resolve from this morning.

“Mr. McCarty!” The youngest squealed. “Remember your promise, sir, to hold a ball? You should invite the militia, they are excellent company.”

“Oh yes, I love a ball!” Miss Angela squealed.

“Victoria!” Isabella looked completely mortified.

Emmett chuckled, “of course Miss Victoria, once your sister has fully recovered you can name the date, how is that?”

Oh Emmett, you still have so much to learn.

Conversation continued, though on more mundane topics. I turned to face the window, my position allowing me to glance in Isabella’s direction. She was still slightly pink, embarrassed by her mother’s ill comments.

I ached for her, and was angry with fate that she should have such an ill bred mother. I wanted to take her away from her vulgar life and surround her with everything she loved. I had no doubt she would love Pemberley, the grounds and woods, and a library that would take her a lifetime to peruse. She could play and sing in the music room to her heart’s content.

I just wanted to take away that pained look from her face.

Wait, why was I picturing her this way? Had my dream taught me nothing? All I was doing was driving myself mad with hopeless dreams.

I was glad of her departure. The sooner the better.

Day Five

The morning was relatively busy as the two ladies readied themselves for their departure. Emmett seemed unusually somber this morning, and I could not understand how he could be so affected in such a short period.

Yes Edward, and you are one to talk.

Emmett was seeing to their transportation home. He had insisted they take his carriage, and would allow no discussion on the matter. He and I were waiting in the foyer for the two ladies. No conversation took place; we both seemed to need some time for contemplation.

Miss Swan and Isabella appeared at the top of the stairs, Isabella assisting her sister carefully down each step. She looked beautiful; her dress was different, not at all like the others she had worn during her time here. It was simple muslin, but it was beautiful all the same.

Emmett and I escorted them to his awaiting carriage. I was panicking internally, desperately needing to touch her one last time. The feeling was becoming unbearable. Emmett helped Miss Swan into the carriage as I stood opposite of him.

As Isabella passed, I noticed she was looking down. I wasn’t ready to let her leave without some small gesture of my affection for her. In a momentary lapse of judgment, I grabbed her ungloved hand to assist her.

The reaction was the same, the spark was still there. Isabella looked surprised by my public display, yet I could not bring myself to care what the others thought at this moment. This may well be the last moment I was to share with her, and I would take whatever I could get. No words were spoken, it wasn’t necessary; we seemed to have the ability to communicate without the need for words. After she was situated I released her hand, turned and walked back to the house. My hand felt empty, the feeling now gone made me ache. I flexed my fingers, desperate to shake off the sensation.

I loved her; she was my heaven and hell, the one woman I had been searching my entire life for. I had resisted, and now she was gone.

I was safe.