A/N: Hello everyone! This story takes place before the Titantic sets sail and will depict the many hardships that Rose faced before her path crossed with Jack Dawson. I will be posting a chapter every day for the next five days as I have written ahead. Enjoy!

A Rose in Bloom

Rose gathered her belongings from her posh London flat as her mother paced in the corridor.

"Your father left us nothing. How will we pay the debts he's acquired over the last 3 years?" Ruth Dewitt-Bukator pondered out aloud.

Rose stared off into space. She often dazed off when her mother went on conversing like she did today. She found much of what her mother spoke drivel and never really gave Ruth the credibility a daughter should. Rose often thought she was wrong to be so obstinate and uncompromising at a young age but felt she was being true to her nature. She also knew that life was too short to compromise.

"Your daughter is recalcitrant, you know that Henry. Finishing school has not tamed her as it has the Claybourne's girl. I fear one day she will defy me and I will be powerless to stop her. You spoil her so." Ruth often argued.

"Rubbish!" Henry would tell his wife. "It's a father's duty to indulge his daughter."

Henry had always sided with his daughter but now that he was gone Rose knew she had to make amends with her mother. Ruth often enjoyed persecuting her daughter, never concealing her disapproval of Rose's vivacity. Rose only felt pain now.

The rain poured down wildly outside and tapped against her window. Rose flipped through a book of published poetry but none of it called out to her. She closed the book and stared at the pattern on the cover. Red roses adorned the 1911 hardcover.

"Mother, I have packed the suitcases accordingly." Rose stated.

"How gracious dear." Ruth answered sarcastically.

At that moment Francesca, the Bukator's maid, scurried in. She had a handful of garments that had just been picked up from the tailor's shop. They were evening dresses recently purchased from the ever famous department store Harrods. Rose enjoyed looking at the dresses on the manikins but it was quite a different story when she had to wear them. The Bukator's had a penchant for fine and expensive things and the garments were none the less. Ruth had insisted on buying them despite their rather poor financial situation. Rose watched Francesca's expression change as she arranged them in the cupboard.

"It wouldn't take long to acquire the affections of a chap with a beautiful frock like this." Francesca said.

Rose was appalled but said nothing. She sat silent as she was taught to do by the many finishing schools she had attended in her youth. At sixteen Rose was beautiful. Yet when she looked in the mirror all she saw was a trapped little girl with no one who understood her, no one who cared.

"Tea is served." Francesca offered.

"No thank-you." Rose responded.

Ruth appeared in doorway as Francesca reluctantly curtsied.

"Tea is served ma'am" Francesca reiterated. "Although, Miss Rose will not be having any."

"Suit yourself." Ruth scolded as she walked away. Francesca winked at Rose and followed Mrs. Dewitt-Bukator out of the room.

Rose lay down on her white laced pillow and closed her eyes falling into a deep sleep letting her dreams lift her away from all the turmoil in her young life.

"Rose darling," Ruth melodiously chanted the next afternoon. "Please let me see what you look like in the blue dress I selected for you. The shoes were delivered earlier." Ruth declared ecstatically.

Rose was bewildered by the change in her mother's behavior. Yesterday she had been quite sour but today she seemed rather at ease. Rose obeyed her mother's instructions and appeared in the lounge adorned by the Harrods' garment.

"Flawless." Ruth beamed.

"Thank-you mother, it is a beautiful dress" Rose smiled.

"Come, sit beside me love." Ruth requested.

Rose walked over to her mother, tucked her dress neatly behind her and sat down beside Ruth. Her mother's green eyes looked especially spirited today. Ruth and Rose looked distinctly alike with their fiery red hair. It was obvious Rose had inherited her mother's good looks; although also apparent her temperament was more like her father's.

"I want you to know, you and I will survive this together." Ruth said. "Your father's death has not been easy on me, nor on you." Ruth carried on, "The only thing that that sets my heart at ease in knowing I have you Rose."

The rest of the night was spent reminiscing about Rose's childhood, her ballet efforts and the Dewitt-Bukator's travels to New York. Francesca even brought out the family album for the two women to peruse while they conversed. Rose went to sleep that night with a warm feeling in her heart. Maybe the void she had been feeling could be filled by her own mother. The woman, who had always appeared distant, may very well have deceived her.

Over the next fortnight Rose and Ruth had relocated themselves into a quant flat with two bedrooms. Francesca had spent an awful amount of time making the quarters as comfortable as possible although it was difficult to utilize the small space. Their former flat had been spacious and easy to decorate.

Rose and Ruth spent the evening at a play in London. After that they dined out and returned home shortly before nine. Rose was about to fall asleep when she became aware of a loud commotion coming from the living room. It was Francesca, sobbing loudly.

"Why Miss, why?" Francesca protested. Francesca's sobs waned as she walked back to the kitchen.

"Rose, will you prepare tea?" Ruth remarked calmly from the sofa in the lounge.

"Yes mother." Rose said obediently heading to the kitchen and instantly familiarized herself with the place. Rose was accustomed to being waited on as her youth had been one of great privy.

Francesca began sobbing again. Rose felt disheartened and placed her hand on Francesca's back as she cried despairingly.

"Where will I find work so late in the year?" Francesca wailed.

"It will be alright, I promise." Rose assured her. "You will find something, you have too."

"I suppose so ma'am." Francesca replied wiping her eyes.

The next morning Rose was not surprised to find Francesca gone. She gazed at the flat still unfamiliar with the place.

"Rose your behavior last night left something to be desired of" Ruth sharply asserted. "To comfort someone is one thing, but to entertain such a lack of decorum is another."

"Remember the help are just that, the help" Ruth said coldly. "They are not our equals and you must never give them the impression that they are"

Rose embarrassed, felt tears begin to stream down her face. She quickly excused herself, making a dash for her room so she could seek some solitude away her mother.

A/N: Thank you for reading and please review!