Happy spooky season! I don't know about any of you, but I celebrate the month of October with horror movies, lots of gory special effects makeup (shout out to Glam&Gore on YouTube, if you haven't watched her already; she's also a big Titanic fan), and way too many baked goods and candy. Halloween is, obviously, my favorite holiday of the entire year.
Anyway, that's the end of my random spiel, so thank you for all of your reviews as always and I hope you enjoy! :)
Wedding of the decade postponed indefinitely; sudden illness claims bride. Cal had tried his best to keep the press limited, sending personalized messages to every guest with the request to respect privacy, but the hundreds of people who planned to attend the most talked-about wedding of the year thirsted for their gossip. Rose stared back at herself as she skimmed the front page, not used to seeing her presence reported on despite her socialite status. They'd used the same photo from their engagement announcement almost a year ago, and compared to the vibrancy emitting off her mother and Cal, she was withered.
She scrapped the paper and dressed for the day, squeezing into a corset despite having nowhere to go. Even when she was not in the public eye she had to follow the proper cultural procedures, utilizing everything she had learned in finishing school. As soon as she was laced in and unable to bend at the waist, she apologized to Trudy and excused herself, rushing to the bathroom to promptly throw up; even when she felt ill, she had to follow proper etiquette.
If there was any doubt that Rose's diagnosis was premature, her intermittent nausea had transformed into daily vomiting in the morning, and her period never came, sealing her fate. The end of May was approaching, and Rose didn't fight her condition anymore; instead, she tried to embrace it as best as a mature, almost eighteen-year-old could.
After cursing the corset for making her struggle to stand up from the floor, Rose picked herself up from her collapsed state and rinsed her mouth at the sink before returning to her room.
"Would you like some of that special tea, miss?" Trudy asked, overwhelmed with concern as always, as Rose walked in and stiffly sat down on the couch.
"That would be wonderful, Trudy. Thank you." Trudy nodded then sped off to help ease her friend's ailment as quickly as possible.
Rose reclined back into the couch as much as her restrictive underclothing allowed her to. She was nauseous, tired, achy, and bloated; all of those symptoms combined made her irritable, and she would defy the silly clothing rules if she didn't have a vital mission to complete that day. A mission one might say was foolish and bound to condemn her more, but she'd been preparing to reclaim some of her power for a week now. Part of that plan required behaving respectfully and calmly to absorb some of the damage, to appear like a dutiful housewife for when her words sliced through that impeccable image altogether.
After a moment of rest, she returned to her desk to resume writing a letter to Jack. He'd been anxiously waiting for an update, but she still had nothing to offer up to quell his nerves.
Your heart is going to give out if you don't give your mind a rest from all this worrying. Everything will work out, I promise. Can we talk about something else? I'm still feeling absolutely horrendous (what a surprise—as if I haven't been complaining all week), and I have no idea how long that's going to last. She paused and tapped her pen on the wooden surface, a thoughtful purse on her lips. This may be an unusual question, but have you ever thought about what we would be doing right now in Santa Monica? Something about creating those memories in my head has been keeping me sane through all of this… She set the pen down and re-read what she had no intention of sending. Though she did wonder if he thought about it…
Lately, she had been having more vivid dreams where she was on a beach, but then she'd wake up and not remember much more than that single detail. During the lingering days, her mind had started wandering off and populating that beach with those ideas that she'd made before everything blew up. Deep inside, she had buried a scrap of hope that she would get out of this to live out those false memories and make them real. She just had to imagine something better ahead than what she was living through now. If she didn't, she thought she might as well have thrown herself off the stern of the Titanic when she had the chance.
Early that afternoon, Cal was disrupted from his regular business by a knock on his office door. "Yes?" he called out while trying to hide his exasperation; he still had a stack of papers that needed to be sifted through before the end of the day. As far as he knew, he didn't have any appointments, and he was avoiding having meetings in the house as much as he could. Had something gone horribly wrong with one of the deals they were currently processing?
When the door opened, Cal was astounded to see his hot-headed fiancée step into the room. In what Cal considered a normal situation, the presence of a woman would be calming given his distressed state; but with this particular woman, his irritation was only aggravated. "What is it?" he said through gritted teeth while shuffling papers aside.
With a raised chin and cool temper, Rose approached his desk and declared, "I have a proposition for you."
Cal chuckled. "That's cheeky. What makes you think you're in any position to compromise?"
Expecting such abrasiveness already, Rose maintained her level-headed demeanor and continued. "As much as you have tried to oppress me, I have a lot more leverage than you think I do." She watched him intently as he lit a cigarette and kicked back in his chair, not intimidated by her one bit. "Your plan rests on you having the first word. Who's to say I won't share with the papers that I'm pregnant out of wedlock from another man? If this is about your reputation, even if you have Jack arrested, your public image would forever be tainted. It would be worse than if I were to just disappear."
Cal hadn't forgotten how smart she was (she always seemed older for her age because of it), but he had hoped she had the common sense to not further question the established order of things and the power of manipulation (for those blunders, she appeared rather stupid). He chuckled again, knowing he could very easily shut this down, but he kept humoring her. "Very good, Rose. That's the kind of wit I thought would make us a perfect match." He stubbed out his cigarette in the tray on his desk. "All right, what is your proposition?"
Rose took a deep breath. You've already gotten this far… "I won't leave the house, and I won't run away, but I still need to see Jack. Once a week. He deserves to know what's going on in his baby's life, too."
Was she serious? He humored her more. "Sometimes I have business partners come by here. What would they think if—"
"He can dress as a gardener, or a footman. No one would question it," she interjected. Having mulled over this plan for a while, she truly believed she could get Jack on and off of the estate without anyone suspecting that anything was amiss.
Her burst of eagerness dampened Cal's fun. "You've thought about this closely, haven't you?"
Rose cleared her throat and reeled herself back in, returning to the business transaction at hand. "I think this deal is the closest to making us both as happy as we can be, given this unanticipated situation."
For the entire conversation, Cal had merely been playing along, but now that he realized this was a genuine negotiation, he felt his dominance get kicked down a peg. He wished he could wave it off and say Rose wasn't well-connected or devious enough to figure out a way to sneak out information to the newspapers. But he knew better than to doubt her, and he didn't trust her a bit, so he surrendered the bare minimum even as it prodded at the rage he'd been caging up. "All right, Rose, you've won this compromise, but there will be limitations in place." He stood up from his desk, in desperate need to get out of the house and his mind off of Dawson before it scalded him, and headed towards the door. The conversation released a flood of damning memories—finding out she was spending time with the steerage below decks, discovering the drawing, receiving the spine-tingling news that she had let that piece of garbage defile her—and he could barely contain himself as he passed by her, the closest they had gotten in weeks. He snatched her elbow, and she gasped as a pain shot up her arm. He gripped it tightly, wishing to throw her on the ground and shout all of his frustrations out, telling her just how crazy she made him. She barely flinched when his racing thoughts prompted him to slightly twist her arm, and with some limited self-control he was able to release her with one threatening phrase: "Don't forget your place."
Once Cal was out of sight, Rose dropped her assertive demeanor and exhaled shakily, massaging her sore arm before falling back against the wall to comfort herself. She placed a hand on her diaphragm and leaned her head back while mumbling to herself, "You're okay. You'll be okay." As soon as her nerves were calmed, she fell into a state of disbelief. Despite everything that had occurred in the last two months, and despite possibly re-aggravating his jealousy, she'd stood up to Cal and won. He had sensed some of her influence, and with that, Rose successfully reclaimed some of her power.
Hopefully, moving forward, she would never have to come this close to an altercation with Cal again. She hurried back to her safe space to draft a new letter to Jack informing him of the good news.
As Rose crossed the long hallway connecting the spare bedrooms, she had one more confrontation to deal with that day: she ran into Ruth approaching from the other direction, and by the way she locked eyes with her daughter, Rose knew she couldn't weasel her way out of it.
"Rose," Ruth said as if they hadn't stopped talking for weeks, "how are you feeling? Should I schedule Dr. Clarkson to come in next week?"
Rose shifted on her feet, wondering if she was still grounded in reality. She had barely exchanged words with her mother since their last conversation about saving face by terminating the "problem" all together, and now she was facing her as if that upsetting discussion had never occurred. "I'm fine…"
Ruth continued, again, as if nothing was amiss. "How is the nausea? No cramps or anything like that?"
Rose grew up around her mother's social masking abilities, but this… This was just amazing. She scoffed and crossed her arms, unwilling to play this game. "Did I miss something, Mother? I don't remember forgiving you for the pressure you put on me minutes after I found out I was with child, when it was my choice to make."
Her scathing comment chipped away at Ruth's facade, and her posture stiffened. "I only wanted to check in on my daughter's health…."
"And the baby?" Unlike when she would talk with Cal, where she had to focus all of her energy to avoid sending him on a path of carnage, she could be more blunt with her mother. She could wear her down and get to the root of the issue without unleashing a vicious beast—only a frigid one.
The corner of Ruth's mouth twitched. "That...that matters, too."
Rose nodded her head despite the lie. "You know, I would like to schedule an appointment with Dr. Clarkson next week. I'm feeling great so far." She started to walk past her mother, turning back only once to add, "But for your sake, so you know when you can finish planning your celebration, I'll let you know as soon as I start bleeding and crying out in pain." She held back angry tears as she stormed to her room. Only her mother could turn the questioning of "have you had any signs of miscarriage? Do we even need to make an appointment next week?" into a seemingly caring inquiry.
As Rose wrote to Jack that afternoon, she couldn't help but add a short bit about her mother to the end. Why does she wish I go through that trauma, when she's been through it herself multiple times? Does maintaining a proper reputation overcome all of that emotional grief? She doesn't care at all, Jack, and I don't trust her. Anything I eat and drink, I make sure it's closely monitored by Trudy. I only wish to stay healthy, and to bring a healthy baby into this world. If now is not the time, then so be it, I will find some way to cope if it comes to that; but to wish that physical and emotional pain on somebody is cruel beyond belief…
After handing the finished letter off to Trudy, Rose sighed and tried to focus on the good coming up. Soon, she would be able to see Jack, assuming Cal would remain destabilized and not try to reclaim his position on the hierarchy anytime soon. Aside from some uncomfortable symptoms, she was healthy. She had a whole library of books at her disposal, a friend by her side twenty-four hours a day. Despite all of the hurdles at first, Rose began to believe she could make it to the other side mostly unscathed.
July 1911
Rose downed her third glass of champagne that night. A massive social gathering in New York City made it easy for her to hide from the people she was avoiding, one being her mother and the other a son of a millionaire she had gotten tied up with shortly after her cotillion last year. At first, she was flattered that such a handsome, seemingly kind man was interested in her; and despite her just turning sixteen and he being thirteen years older, they had gone out a few times and she had thought she enjoyed being in his company. He was funny, persuasive, and flirty. As far as she had been able to see, he had no flaws whatsoever.
Until the papers started announcing their courtship, and Rose started becoming nervous because she had never agreed to being in a courtship. Soon after that, the sweetheart she thought she was dating took a drastic turn; he was possessive, manipulative, angry. He would coerce her to go to every social event with him, and would demand her to change if he thought her dress wasn't appropriate enough. Of course, her mother went along with his every outburst, and replaced Rose's wardrobe with something he thought was more respectable. He started to order for her at restaurants, and was always holding her elbow in his unless she was socializing with the ladies only. When he would drop her off at home at the end of the night, she would try to turn her head to bid good night, but he would force his lips on hers, and she felt like she had no choice but to stand there and take it.
A seemingly tenderhearted man turned grandiose and cruel. Rose couldn't help but think that the change occurred once they were given the label "courtship," once he knew she was his. Then she was no longer just some woman he was seeing, she was his woman. Like she was transformed overnight into some porcelain doll that he could manipulate at his every whim, and she no longer had a brain of her own.
Last week, he had walked into her hotel room with the desire to take things further. She had said no, and after their discussion turned heated, he'd taken her hand mirror and slammed it into the wall, close to her head, before leaving.
She suspected what her birthday celebration that night entailed. It didn't matter that she was frightened by him, or that his controlling nature threatened to smother her; they were a match made in heaven, or so the papers said. The perfect blend of traditional class and massive wealth. It didn't matter that she was only seventeen, she was already marriage material for a Hockley man.
"Rose!" a voice cried out from the buzz of the partygoers around her. Rose gulped down the last quarter of her drink and tried to hightail it out of there, but she was too late: her mother had caught her. "Oh, there you are. You had me worried. Come along, Cal wants to wish you a happy birthday."
A "happy" birthday, Rose scoffed internally. He thinks he's going to give me the birthday gift of the century.
Rose let her mother drag her to a less dense area where Cal and a few other businessmen and socialites were socializing. "Here she is," she nearly squealed as she re-entered the circle. "The birthday girl."
As Cal smiled at her, a grin she once found charming, Rose felt like she was going to be sick. "Happy birthday, Rose…"
Rose wasn't oblivious to the shift in people around her; she could feel the dozens of extra pairs switch their focus onto her.
"I wanted to give you your gift," Cal said as he patted around in his pocket before pulling out something that was obviously a ring box. "As you know, Rose, we've been together for almost a year now. And I thought it was time…" Everyone gasped as he got down on one knee, but Rose tried to calm her irritated nerves as she expected this was going to happen. When he opened the box to reveal a sparkling silver ring with a gigantic diamond in the center, though, her heart dropped. "Will you marry me?"
The room, once buzzing with lively excitement, suddenly went dead quiet. A couple of camera flashes went off, and she could see her mother behind Cal, staring into her mind and saying, "We need this, Rose. Don't mess this up."
After what felt like five minutes (but was only a few seconds), Rose parted her lips, and at first she was silent. Was she really doing this, after how he had treated her all of these months? "Yes."
The room erupted in cheers, and Rose felt as if she was dissociating as he slipped the heavy ring onto her finger. She stopped breathing when he swept her up into a passionate kiss, causing more lights to flash; she was too far gone to push him away. Somehow she got through the rest of the night with a beguiling smile, allowing herself to be swept up into the masses to congratulate her and examine her new permanent piece of jewelry. All the while, Cal's hand remained on the small of her back, not planning on loosening his grip. Her mother had never seemed so pleased.
Was she really doing this? Considering the behemoth overtaking her finger had turned her into stone, she guessed her life was only made to last seventeen years.