White silk gloves and a pretty pink parasol were all that she need to keep herself hidden from the sun's rays and the sparkling affect it caused to her skin.

She had perfected the art of dancing out of direct sunlight, of living among the human even in the bright locations that would traditionally be bared to her. She was thankful that the parasol was in fashion, that it was a tool she could use to bat away the attempts to keep her locked away in her home until the sky changed to pinks and golds, purples and oranges. Marion enjoyed seeing the people as they went about their days, it was something she did not see often while still human - the elite staying in their homes and moving from one acquaintances estate to another.

In 18th century France, Marion didn't get the chance to see both common and rich folk alike as her parents forbade her from visiting the large cities that had the poor 'crawling about like filth.' Edgar was much kinder, her late husband would take her by shopping districts and allow her to spend her allowance - watching her do so with a soft smile and gifts in his hands.

He would never allow their servants to carry the things he bought her.

It had always been so from the moment he began to court her, always so attentive.

Now Marion was forced to pay for her things to be delivered in order to keep up appearances as no self-respecting lady would journey home alone weighed down by bags of apparel.

And she had bought many things as she had spent the better part of the day going from one shop to another - Estelle leaving her halfway through their excursion after finding nothing of interest.

So with only the impromptu purchase of a bouquet in hand, Marion ventured into the bank a week after her little party. Topaz eyes flit around the room, searching as her nose worked carefully over the scent she was desperately seeking and avoiding.

Oh how dearly she wished to see Rosalie despite how badly it would harm her in the end.

The vampire had spent the week listening carefully for word of the King family, the ones that owned the bank. Rich, they were treated like literal Kings of Rochestor and acted as such.

Marion wondered how much wealthier she was to them, her old money family only growing as she worked and added to the fund that was sparsely touched. The fortune of both the Dupuis family and that of her husband's had fallen to them quite easily as they had shown themselves at the bank and withdrawn all that was theres. Their estate was fortunately in the name of Estelle as well, and which ever name she claimed for herself each time she 'passed on.'

They were truly well off, as it had allowed them to continue on living among the humans without having to resort to nomadic tendencies. Of this she was thankful as she had found herself dependent on the monotonies of life to keep her from loosing her sanity.

There have been many stories of vampires going on mad killing sprees just to ward of the boredom, though Marion supposed that running from the Volturi for the rest of your supposedly short existence was quite a thrill.

It was easy to catch the eye of many men and women alike as her supernatural appearance was meant to draw in the attention of others, to lure away her prey - though she hardly needed it, speed was good enough for feeding.

Her beauty aided her this time around as she sought out her prey, the man drawing to her like a fly to honey.

Royce King was much the same as he had been the week before. Just as handsome and well-dressed, just as charming and sweet-talking.

He was leaned over the desk of a pretty, young redhead with chery painted lips, whispering low and alluringly hidden innuendos as he gestered to the work he wanted her to do.

It made Marion wish to be violently sick all over the perfectly waxed marble floors while simultaneously ripping his head from his shoulders.

Her heels claked against the floor and he finally looked up, glancing away for just a second before he zeroed in on her once more - eyes burning over her figure that was slightly hidden from him by the bouquet.

Royce was approaching her quickly then, scrambling away from the redhead to reach her with a beaming smile.

"Ah, if it isn't the talk of the town! What a lovely surprise!" He grinned at her, hand reaching for her own.

Mindful of her parasol held to her by her elbow, Marion offered up her hand - expecting a shake but curling her lip as he pressed a kiss to her silken covered fingers.

She would burn these gloves later.

"Haven't seen fancy gloves like that before," he remarked, turning her hand over in his own.

Marion raised a brow. "They are French," she tells him dismissively, unsure of the importance of her gloves.

She had a large collection of gloves, perhaps it was time to purchase a newer assortment if this was the reaction she was going to get.

"Ah, that explains it then," he grinned.

Marion withheld a grimace. She shuffled her feet for show, adjusting the shoulder that her purse hung from amd drawing his attention to it.

"What brings you all the way down here, Ms. Dupuis?" Royce questioned. He twitched his finger and Marion was able to follow his line of sight over to a representative behind her.

She nearly scowled as she expected he was ready to dismiss her.

It was frowing uncommonly difficult to control her emotions around this man that frustrated her so.

"I've decided to give a donation, you see. I have been feeling quite charitable," Marion stated, plastering on an innocent expression.

It was Royce's turn to raise a brow, looking quite unsure of himself.

"It is my first time doing so in America," she explained. "I figured who else to help me than the bank, yes?"

The man beamed, seemingly proud that she had chosen to come to his bank for aid.

"I can get someone to help you so none of that dough goes to waste," he exclaimed.

Marion blinked. "Ah, well I was hoping to have the best person help me. It is quite a bit of money."

"Oh I'm sure, doll face," he shrugged her off, searching among his employees.

"Mr. King, I must insist on the best," Marion interjected. "I do not trust anyone else with my $300."

His head snapped towarda her, eyes blown wide. "Murder! Three-hundred?"

Marion would vehemently deny having felt a sense of smug satisfaction as he looked at her as though she offered him the moon on a silver platter. It was easy for her to tell that he would never allow such blatant spending for something such as a donation with his own money, whether it be out of greed or not having so much to spare, it did not matter to her.

"You sure you don't need your brother here to sign off on something like this?" He questioned, his hand on her mid-back as he guided her towards the back of the bank.

"I don't need anyones permission to spend my money, I assure you," she told him flippantly. "The accounts are in my name afterall. Besides, my siblings quite enjoy donating, they love to see the money being used for something important."

She picked at the fabric of her dress, easily keeping the pace as he led her into a large office near the back.

Then he began to talk, Marion not really paying attention to what he was saying but still hearing every word. She knew what she was doing, having done so many times before, she didn't truly need his help but she did need to judge his character for herself if she was going to be able to keep her heart from investing itself in Rosalie.

Royce was . . . Royce was very lucky man to have gotten a lady like Rosalie to be interested in him, and from what she could tell he was not all that interested in her if he was able to flirt with redheaded secretaries.

As he brought out one paper after another, showing her various things, she carefully studied the room - put off by the lack of personal effects. It was made to look grand and impressive but it was cold and distant, unwelcoming.

It was a miracle he managed to get anything done in here, it was so depressing.

"You're sure of this then? There's no going back," he told her, watching as she pulled out her checking book from her purse. 

Having already written everything out, Marion fluidly signed her name and tore the slip free - handing it over to him with a care free smile.

"I truly must thank you, Mr. King," Marion chirped happily. "You have made this so much easier for my family."

The man smiled at her, and despite how much she disliked his person, she could not help but give him her approval. He was, to what she could tell, an honest fellow that was possibly a bit worse than other gentlemen but still a gentlemen regardless. Marion was in no position to condemn a relationship that truly had nothing to do with herb regardless of what her family may or may not believe - she still could not judge their position on the matter of Rosalie, they were both being so very odd about the ordeal.

It was up to Rosalie's friends to presuade the girl against any wrong choices - if they believed one was being made. Not her, a stranger.

And so she bid the man farewell and stepped into the high sun with parasol covering her exposed skin. She was lucky it was only spring and that an overcoat did not look strange.

She greeted people kindly as she workws her way home, stopping every now and then to speak with the neighbours that gathered the courage to approach - going as far to purchase sweets for the children that were staring in awe at the candy shop.

Marion wondered if she would miss it here when she eventually moved, probably back to Europe to avoid the chance of ever seeing Rosalie again. Though, there were many lovely places to settle in America according to Carlisle, the man having jumped all over the country.

Different from Carlisle, Marion has never truly done something important with her life aside from donating money and taking the odd job. In her time she was not allowed to earn herself money or an education, and then she had Estelle to care for - but afterwards nothing really happened.

Perhaps she would attend school once she left, drag her family through it as well so they could claim to have at least one degree.

Coming upon her home, Marion was momentarily stunned as she heard the healthy rhythm of a hearbeat inside and the soft twinkle of her daughter's laughter.

It baffled her to think that Estelle was entertaining, and a human at that.

From outside she could not catch the scent of the individual but as she made her way to pass the window that had the curtains drawn open, Marion nearly tripped as she spotted golden blonde hair and rosy, apple cheeks.

She was certain that this was what it felt like to have your heart loged into your.

Estelle glanced to the window, a flicker of some kind of emotion passing through her eyes, before she turned back and began addressing another individual - two others.

Marion wished she had stayed out longer as Estelle began to walk to the door, calling that she had spotted her sister to the gathered party.

Her steps were calculated to appear calm and steady as she walked the path to her open door and towards a waiting Estelle.

"Oh sister, I did not think you would be back so late," Estelle exclaimed, forcefully grabbing her sisters wrist. "You have nearly missed lunch."

"But I have no missed it yet, please attend to your friends," Marion ground out kindly, a promise of punishment seeping into her tone for her daughter. "I will be in my room so as not to interrupt."

The brunette smiled at the people gathered in the sitting room, pleasantly surpised to find Esme and Vera cooing over baby Henry.

"I apologize for interrupting, if you'll excuse me," Marion gave a small curtsy before turning to flee, the pure, sweet scent that was invading her senses making her slightly dizzy.

"Oh, please stay! It would be wonderful if you joint us,"Rosalie called, the voice watching over Marion in waves of serenity.

The eldest vampire was unsure of how it happened, but she had somehow found herself seated beside Rosalie with her daughter looking mighty smug across from her.

Marion wasn't sure if she ought to blame Rosalie or Estelle.

Either way, her daughter was going to have a lot of explaining to do after this.

•••

Vote,
Comment,
& follow me on wattpad

I was going to finish this chapter last night but i fell asleep. Oh well.

Btw $300 in 1933 is like $5600 now.

Unedited

2018-03-07