A.N. My New story. 'Yay!' I hear you all scream. I know, I know, very exciting. Basically, it's all the characters but a different plot. Canon pairings eventually. Rated T because I'm paranoid. Anyway, set in nineteenth century times.
Disclaiming: Not mine. Unfortunately. –Cries-
Behind Closed Doors
"Make sure no man sees you like this." Renée Swan mumbled to her daughter, Isabella Swan, or Bella as she corrected new and old acquaintances often. Isabella had been groomed like an owner would groom their pet, for eighteen years. She was her mother's prized possession. Sitting in front of the fire, red faced and her hair windswept was Bella, warming her freezing limbs.
The chaise lounge she occupied was unnecessary and vulgar, as she often notified her mother, and Isabella constantly tried to avoid being sat here, but tonight, it seemed completely unavoidable. Her Aunt Victoria sat on the only armchair, with a small glass of whiskey, whilst her younger sister and mother were seated on a deep green, larger chair. The chaise lounge was a vile green colour, and with small stripes of deep red. The colours of envy, and hate. Some, like Alice – Bella's younger sister - would say that they were the colours of nature and love, but not Bella.
"Stupid weather." Bella muttered, completely oblivious to her mother's last comment. Who expected winds like she had just experienced in July?
"Now, now, weather is controlled by our lord…" Began Aunt Victoria, on another religious subject that somehow Bella and Alice had not heard yet. Yes, the family was religious, but no where as near as religious as Aunt Victoria seemed to be. Bella softly rolled her eyes at her sister, and Alice let out the smallest of giggles, dreading what may happen if she were any louder.
As Bella let her eyes wander around the room, something she had not let herself do in a while, she immediately looked up at a particular painting. It hung neatly above her fireplace, and was a beautiful portrait of her late father, Charles Swan. Mr. Swan was a very well known man, but sometimes for all the wrong reasons. He was a wonderful father: passionate, loving, caring. But once the alcohol had gone from the glass and into his bloodstream, he was a completely different person. Many had suspected he beat his children, and they were wrong, yet not so far off. He would become the most terrifying monster, and with a stick, which was permanently no bigger than his thumb, he would lay into Mrs. Swan. She had suffered greatly, but he had always warned her; if you do not stay still, I will be getting Isabella in here, and with all this alcohol that you say I have consumed, who knows what could happen?
Mrs. Swan had done a lot more for her children than they had known. Bella in particular, thought her father as a man to look up to, whilst her mother was cold hearted. If that were the case, Isabella would almost certainly be under a gravestone by now.
As another shudder ripped through Bella, she made a decision. She up, and left the room without a single word. She knew her mother would be unhappy, but she could not stand one moment longer in that room filled with awquard silence. Isabella was sure her sister would soon follow.
Her light pink dress trailed behind her dainty frame as she made her way up the staircase, struggling to hear voices. She could all but hear the crackling of a fire, and the light tapping of ones foot. Another roll of the eyes graced Bella's face, as she identified the tapping of Jessica's foot.
Isabella's only very close companion, other than her sister and Lauren, was Jessica. Jessica had been with the Swan family for around seven years now, and had been employed just as Bella's father grew sick and needed close attention from Mrs. Swan. Jessica and her sister, Rosalie worked as personal maids for the young Swan girls. Rosalie appointed to Alice, and Jessica to work for Bella, though the four girls spent the majority of their time together, therefore one was always with another's company.
Jessica did not have the greatest of patience, Bella had found out. Once Bella had walked through the door, the front this time to avoid any unwanted attention and questions by the staff, she was greeted by a flustered Jessica, and a pile of over-bearing attention. Jessica was forced to repeat herself several times before she was heard properly. Finally she seemed to get her point across.
"Bella, I am ever so sorry, but I completely forgot to warm you room. Sit with your family for no more than five minuets, and then come to join me in your room where we can get you undressed. I stole a bottle of champagne for us all tonight, because Rose has some important news. Don't ask me what, for she has not even spoken to me yet, which annoys me so. Don't let on about the alcohol; you know what your mother is like. She will only have to send herself to bed, once again."
Bella could not hear Jessica's rant. She could just hear his heartbeat, and feel the tingle of his breath on her neck. She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her waist and the passion on her lips from where he had kissed. Not many girls of the town had fallen in love before they had become twenty five, but Bella was there, and she knew it. But she no idea what she was to do about it. Not all of the girls had fallen in love with the wrong person, at the wrong time. Not just the wrong time, but the completely wrong era. And the wrong place. Why could she not live in a less 'upper class' area, then she would be free to love when and whom she pleased. 'The forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest.' She had once read. She never knew the truth to these words before, but now, as her love is guaranteed unacceptable, the words leave a sting in her mouth, and thirst in her throat that no liquid could quench.
Walking down the dim hallway leading to her room, she wondered where he was right now. Probally no more than two miles away, which made her heart swell. As her feet trailed along the wooden floors and she stole a glance at the state of her dress, she became horrified.
Three of the pearl buttons seemed to have disappeared, and as she brought the back of her dress to the front, her eyes grew larger, if possible. Mud covered at least six inches from the hem of her favourite pink dress. She should have had Jessica dress her in black.
Dreading the reaction she would get from Jessica, she stopped dead in front of the door. Her mother probally had not looked twice at her daughter's appearance apart from her face, and Aunt Victoria was never very observant. Bella scowled at the door before her. Alice. Alice would have noticed, and Alice would have known what Jessica's reaction will be. That was what she was smiling so largely at.
To Bella's surprise, the door not five inches from her face flew open, to reveal a very angry looking Jessica. She soon found herself being pushed into the confines of her room, and forced to sit on the end of her bed.