TW: Abuse and Violence (I know it's been mentioned before, but this is like full disclosure in this chapter, and I don't want to trigger or upset anyone who's sensitive to stuff like that.)

The car sat parked by the front steps. Rose looked up at the large white house and felt a million things at once. She'd spent most of the night sleeping beside Tommy, who comforted her in the best way. He'd helped when her shaking hands made it difficult to dress. He tied her brassiere for her, slid up her stockings and clipped them to her garter belts, and brushed her hair. Never in a million years would she expect Tommy Shelby to be so soothing. Occasionally, he'd slip in a kiss or two, like when he kissed the inner parts of her knees and her neck. Yet, despite how loving he'd been, she couldn't focus on his love. She only thought of the people who'd lied and abandoned her.

The Westons.

Sitting outside their home, that familiar tingle of nerves came over her again. A part of her wasn't sure about going through with this. She could always come back another day. She didn't have to face them today. However, something washed that dreadful feeling down. She wanted answers, and they would give them to her.

"Want me to come in with you?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, "This is something I need to do myself."

He nodded in understanding. "I'll be here," he told her.

He kissed her cheek and she climbed out of the car. Rose walked on shaky knees as she reached the top of the steps to the door. She reached out for the doorbell, but someone opened the door right away.

"Hello Ms. Wick." It was Dot, the young chambermaid. She stood smiling in her maid's uniform, her light brown curls pinned up underneath her headband. "Are you here for Mrs. Weston?"

"Yes, I am," she said. "Is she here?" Rose already knew the answer. They had afternoon tea time, which Prudence allegedly never missed.

"She is," Dot nodded, "She's in the garden with Ms. Charlotte and Mr. Weston. Follow me."

Rose followed her into the large hallway. This time she didn't dare return the looks of Westons come and gone as she walked passed them. She only had eyes for the open doors at the end. She knew from greenhouse, they'd reach the outside garden which spread quite extensively from the house. Rose had hoped she'd only meet with Richard and Prudence, she hadn't anticipated Charlotte. They were her family. She had such a hard time processing the fact. She couldn't believe it when Tommy told her, and she still couldn't. Rose prayed it was all some terrible dream and she'd find out none of it was true. She even wished the whole thing had been a joke, because at least she could handle humiliation.

Their garden stood in an eternal spring. Bright flowers, old fountains spouting crystal clear water, healthy green grass and full trees trimmed to perfect shapes. Any other day, she would've marveled at it, but today she could barely pay attention. She focused on the white gazebo in the center of this floral paradise. She already made out the figures sitting around a white table, drinking from porcelain tea cups and eating their scones and biscuits on matching saucers. The scene bothered her. If they'd done their job as family members, Rose could've enjoyed the same luxuries. She'd have socialized at dinner parties, attended family Christmas feasts and gone on sunny holidays to foreign countries. She would've gone to university for business or nursing school. She'd have lived a rich and fulfilling life like the rest of them.

Most of all, she would have grown up being loved. Instead, she was treated less than human.

"Rosie!" Charlotte called with a smile. "We weren't expecting you today! What a nice surprise!"

She forced a smile, "Hello Charlotte."

Charlotte came down the steps, and hugged her. She smelled of floral perfume and wore a cotton pantsuit. She wondered if her mother ever dressed the same way. When Charlotte pulled away, her smile faded into worry. The hands on Rose's arms gripped her gently. She gulped the lump forming in her throat.

"Rose," she said softly, "I can explain…"

"Please do," Rose replied, "Because I have a hard time believing it."

"What's going on here?" Richard came down the steps with his walking stick. His smile also vanished.

"She knows, Dad," Charlotte answered.

Richard's shoulders stiffened. She saw his hand clutch the silver wolf's head on his stick. "Rose, darling, I-I-We…" he was at loss for words.

"We didn't mean for this to happen," Charlotte said. "We never thought…We thought we'd lost you forever. When we heard what happened to Nancy, we tried so hard finding you."

"Please, sit down with us," Richard said. "We will explain everything to you."

She saw the apology in their eyes, the same eyes that matched hers almost perfectly. They were her mother's eyes. How could she have not seen it before? How did that slip by her? She'd spent so much time looking at meaningless heirlooms that she hadn't paid attention. She felt like an idiot. Rose took a seat at their table. She glanced over at Prudence, who didn't greet her with her usual smile. She only held her cup and frowned.

"Rose," Richard began, "I can't begin to tell you how sorry we are for how this ended up. We tried so hard, and did so much and landed nowhere."

"We looked everywhere for you," Charlotte added. "Your great Uncle Wallace was chief commissioner at the time, and even he had all his forces searching for-for that man. He had a warrant put out for his arrest. He contacted other districts. He called every person he knew. I had sources tracking him."

"I called all my friends in the charity groups," Prudence said, "In case you turned up in an orphanage or-or-or-"she dabbed her teary eyes.

"-Or a morgue," Richard continued for her. "Edward Jameson closed out whatever accounts he carried. He abandoned his job here at our stables. From what I understand now, he even changed his name. He broke contact with anyone who could tell us where he might've gone."

Rose simply looked at them. She couldn't gather up anything to say except, "Why did you all stop looking?"

They remained silent, searching for an answer. "We…" Charlotte said carefully, "We-We thought he'd killed you. There was nothing to prove you'd be alive after what he did to Nancy."

"What did he do to her?" Rose asked.

"He was a monstrous man," Prudence said. "He beat Nancy all the time. She'd come to afternoon tea with unexplained bruises."

"She was frightened of him," Charlotte said. "She wouldn't leave him no matter how much we told her she could stay with us. I'd ask her what it was he'd do, and she wouldn't answer."

"She thought he'd come find her," Richard said. "She told me it didn't matter where she went or how far she got, he'd always find her. I told her that was preposterous. If she'd just come home…then…" he took in a deep breath and blinked back his own tears. Charlotte patted his hand.

"Then she stopped visiting all together," Prudence told her. "She said with you on the way, she couldn't travel very far."

"When you were born, she feared for your safety," said Richard. "She wouldn't leave you alone with him for even a second. I think he threatened to hurt you if she left him."

"He did," Rose said, "After he beat her to death."

Prudence let out a sob. Charlotte bit her bottom lip to suppress her tears, and Richard held on to his stick. "A neighbor found her," Charlotte said quietly. "A friend of hers said she'd fallen ill, and she'd heard screaming coming from the house. She told me this was a common occurrence at night, but this screaming sounded worse than usual. When he stormed from the house and walked down the street, she went to check on Nancy. Sh-She said Nancy was unconscious, barely breathing, and blood was splattered on the floor. She shouted for help, and help came, but not quick enough."

"How did they know who she was?"

"Because one of Alan's friends worked in the hospital," she said. "And he oversaw her care. He told us Nancy had a slight fever and a cold, but it would've lifted eventually."

"We went to the hospital," Richard said, "Charlotte and I."

"When I saw her, lying on that bed, bruised and broke and wrapped up," Charlotte let her tears flow now, their wetness smudging her make-up, "I-I-I didn't know what to do!" She sobbed. "I could've helped her! I could have saved her! I could have saved her! I tried so hard to help her! My little sister! She died alone and afraid!"

Prudence embraced her daughter. Richard looked at her, tears in his eyes as well, "They put in the report that she'd died from a bludgeoning. We were going to take her home and bury her in our family plot," he said. "Wh-when I came to retrieve her, she'd already gone. They said her husband had taken her."

"He buried her in a field," Rose told them. "She's in a field somewhere, unmarked and forgotten," she sniffled. "H-He packed us up in a hurry. He said we had to leave but wouldn't tell me why. I asked him where was mother, and he said she'd died from a fever."

This only made Charlotte and Prudence weep more. "That animal!" Prudence groaned, "That bloody animal!"

"He was fine f-for a while," Rose said, "When I turned nine, this gone worse and worse."

"No, no!" Charlotte said, "Please, don't say it! Don't tell us, please!"

Rose lifted up the silver cuffs on her wrists, showing them to the table. "He started cuffing me to a pipe in the basement when I tried to run away the first time," she said. "H-h-he beat me when I didn't do something right; he beat me when I did something he didn't like," her voice cracked slightly, "He would starve me. He'd lock me in the basement when he went on long jobs at ranches or stables. H-h-he did things to me I can't even say out loud!"

Richard reached for her, but she flinched away. She lifted up her side-wept bang, showing them the hairline scar, "He hit me with a hammer when I knocked over a stack of plates. The doctors said I was lucky I survived. I get migraines now from what he did to me. I take a tonic to help them go away, but sometimes even that doesn't help. He gave it to me usually, but sometimes he wouldn't let me have it. No matter how much I begged or pleaded; no matter how sick I became from it, he said I needed to earn my medicine." She breathed in and out slowly. She kept a handle on the emotions coursing through her. "He put out cigarettes on me, he once cut off my hair with a knife, and he's broken my bones and left me to treat them alone. He even used to make me kill the chickens! He'd stand over me and make me cut off their heads! He knew how much I hated hurting animals, and he laughed when I started to cry!" She remembered the hatchet he'd force into her hand, the way the chicken clucked and flapped its wings as she kept a hold on it. "He was an evil man and you left me with him! You left me! You left me, you left me, you left me!" She grabbed one of their cups and threw it against a pillar. "I tried so hard to be good! I thought if I gave some goodness to the world, then maybe things wouldn't be so terrible! I tried so hard to love! I have a man who loves me and it's so hard for me to believe he-or anyone-could love me because…because…"

"Because nobody loved you," Charlotte finished. Black mascara fell down her powdered cheeks, and she patted her mother's quivering figure. "I'm so sorry, Rose. We're sorry. We know there's nothing we can do for you."

"We all understand if you don't forgive us," Richard said. "I wouldn't if it were me. But, I want you to know that if you ever need anything, anything at all, you always have us."

"I want to see it," she demanded.

"See what?"

"The report. I want to see the report that they do when someone dies," she said, sniffling and gulping, "I want to read it myself. I know you have a copy of it. You have to have it. I want to see it! Now!"

Richard nodded. He called Dot up to the gazebo, and told her to go get "the red folder". Rose simmered down while they waited. Prudence's sobbing minimized to silent weeping and apologies, while Charlotte stared at her in pure sadness. Richard kept his eyes on his cup, his own tears coming now. Rose thought of Tommy sitting in the car, his peaked cap over his soft hair and his fine suit silhouetting his fit figure. He was a skinny man, but his body was iron. She remembered his gentle lips on her face, and how different he'd acted around her. She wished he were there now.

"Here, Mr. Weston," Dot came back with a red file.

"Thank you, Dorothy," he said.

He handed her the folder. Rose stood up from the table, holding the file in her hand. "I don't know if I ever will forgive any of you," Rose said. "I know I should forgive you for myself and my soul, but I don't think I can."

She left them. She ignored Dot's invitation to walk her out, and made her way for the greenhouse herself. The folder in her hand felt so surreal; it felt heavy. She wasn't sure what she'd find hidden in this folder. Rose could only guess this had everything pertaining to her mother inside, since the tab read 'Nancy' in slanted letters. She knew she wouldn't like what she found, but at least she'd have the truth. It was like mending an open wound. She anticipated the pain, yet might not like what she sees.

Tommy sat in the car, his usual cloud of smoke around him.

'I have a man who loves me, and I don't know how to love him back…'