"Where did Father say he was off to, Lizzie?"
Lizzie. A name that sounded like giggles, maddening childish squeals, and running down the hallways late at night.
Rose lowered her book from her eyes and turned her head toward her sister, who was at the far side of the gathering room. "I believe he said that he was off to Ashworth Castle, to speak with the baroness. But I can hardly remember, Hattie."
Hattie. A cutesy name. Its flavor palate was simple, but with some degree of bite at the end.
Rose leaned back in her chair, brought the book back up to her eyes, and continued devouring the words on the page.
Hattie huffed, smoothing out her blush-colored gown and stamping her feet. She peered into one of the shards of glass from an old broken mirror on the wall, then proceeded to curl a strand of hair with her finger. "I do hope he makes it back soon."
"And why is that?" Minnie, Hattie's twin, inquired from the dusty settee.
"Oh, you're always so suspicious of me, Minnie—"
Minnie. Girlish, gaudy, and gay.
"—and you shouldn't be! Haven't you learned after all these years to mind your own business? Especially now that we're both married women and not little gossiping girls anymore?"
"Who says we're not little gossiping girls still?" Minnie giggled. "I'm as curious as I've ever been! Perhaps you have outgrown your girlish ways, but I have not." She sat back on the settee, lounging. A winning smile darted across her face, and her eyes flashed a vibrant green.
Hattie stamped her foot again, turned away from the broken mirror, and put her hands on her hips. She stared her twin sister down from the other side of the gathering room. "Well, fine then. I'll tell you." Her nostrils flared. "I'm going to ask Father what his plans are to get us out of this horrid debt. Since you clearly demonstrate no concern over this matter whatsoever, and Lizzie has no intention of getting married anytime soon—"
Rose stiffened, her eyes stopping on the page.
"—then it must be me who makes the inquiries about his financial situation. My nerves can't take much more of this..." she pressed a palm to her forehead and shut her eyes, "this… sitting about, acting as though nothing could possibly be wrong! We are all guilty of it!"
Minnie sighed, stretching back even further on the settee, her jewel-green gown and petticoats lifting above her heels. "Oh, Hattie, you've got nothing to be worried about."
"It's so like you to say that." The woman crossed her arms.
"But I mean it," Minnie asserted. "You know our husbands will provide if Father cannot do so anymore."
Hattie snorted. "You only say that because your husband is better off than mine. My William is struggling—"
William. A rather regal name, but so common that one could not even recognize its excellence. Like an expensive wine, but one Rose had sipped a hundred times so that it tasted like bland mush on her tongue.
"We are hardly able to keep up the townhome. We've had to let go of so many servants. You couldn't possibly understand." Hattie buried her face in her palms and wailed like a frightened cat. "Oh, what am I to do?!"
Minnie giggled, rose from the settee, and waltzed over to her distraught sister; as her feet trotted along, the floor creaked. She took hold of Hattie's arm and brought her to the settee, forcing her to sit down. A dust storm hurled up into the air.
"Now, now, Hattie, there's no use crying and fussing like a child. We know you only want the attention." Minnie turned to face Rose—who had lowered her book—and winked.
Rose snapped suddenly at the gesture; she straightened her neck and glared at Minnie. "I don't believe Hattie is fighting for attention at all. In any case, every one of us should be worried—not only her. Father didn't have the money to continue to pay his servants, so he let them go. He needed the money, and so he sold all of the barn animals except his horse. Most of our belongings have been sold, too, except for your prized gowns and my… books." Before lifting her head, she ran her hand over the cover and laid her book down in her lap. "What do you think is going to happen next?" Rose gestured to the dilapidated walls of the manor, but then her eyes fell as another thought came to her mind. "And perhaps… I am frightened. Yes, I am. I don't have a husband to provide for me if Father's situation worsens. And more than that, how do you think Father feels? What's to become of him—let alone us young ones—when the unthinkable occurs?"
Both Minnie and Hattie squinted their eyes at their younger sister, their previous dispositions disappearing. They sat beside each other and seemed to be the same entity—a four-eyed beast, rearing its neck and closing in on Rose. A darkness fell over the gathering room.
"How dare you accuse us of being so selfish," Minnie sneered, her lackadaisical air dissipating as she turned into a beast. "Don't you know how selfish you have been, dear sister?"
Her shoulders caving, the young girl remained silent.
Hattie faced her twin, adding: "The only reason she's blaming us is that we aren't the ones who are solely dependent on Father anymore; we haven't squandered his fortune. She's trying to make it seem like she's innocent."
Minnie nodded, placing her hands on her hips, enlarging herself.
Rose's eyes widened; she gripped onto the book in her lap, feeling its sturdy woodenness. If only she could have a bit of the book's strength.
The girl dropped her head. "I'm sorry, my sisters," she apologized. "I did not mean for my statement to be an accusation, but it seems as though it has been received as such. I do hope you can forgive me."
The twins glared at one another, their noses upturned and their heads held high. They exchanged looks, and their eyes raced back and forth between each other and Rose. But soon, their faces softened and the four-eyed monster melted away as they settled upon what to do.
Minnie turned and faced Rose, a sisterly simper spreading across her lips. "Of course, I forgive you, Lizzie. After all, that's what big sisters do." She smirked at Hattie. "I'm not quite so sure about Hattie, though. You know she has a hard time with letting things go."
"Oh, hush, Minnie. That's not true," Hattie said, swiping her hand at her sister, giggling. But the laugh soon faded and she stared out the window, sighing. "But, alas, it is only partially false. My nerves always bring things back around and I can hardly let the past go… But this? This is merely trivial." She grinned, biting her lip as she bared her teeth together. "Of course, I forgive you, Lizzie."
Rose smiled slightly, her heart slowing again to a steadier pace. "Thank you, sisters."
A low thumping sound alerted the three sisters. They each got up from their resting places and headed for the window to see where it was coming from. The two twin sisters were nearly identical, with tall frames; they towered over Rose. The young girl, with her petite form, stood on her tippy-toes to peer over their shoulders, her book still in hand.
Across the green front lawn, a dull grey stallion broke through the forest trees, heading down the pebbled lane.
With a slight tremble in her voice, Hattie cried: "Oh, it's Father!"
Father. The scent of crushed cigars, the feel of old books that were falling apart at the hem, and the sound of last night's crackling fire.
"Have you mustered up the courage to speak with him? Or are your nerves far too great?" Minnie teased.
Hattie shoved her sister, then backed up as Minnie turned about to deliver a return blow.
Rose remained at the window, her eyes trailing along with the trek of the stallion. She leaned over, dropped her book on the windowpane, and placed her hands on top of it. "Please bring good news," she whispered, trying to read her father's face as he came into view.
The stallion's gallop slowed into a canter as he neared the manor, before disappearing off to the side of the windowpane, out of view. There was the clopping sound of the horse's hooves as he slowed once more—first into a trot, and then a walk.
Pushing back against the windowpane, Rose lifted herself and then grabbed hold of her book. She moved on through the gathering room, past her quarreling sisters, and out the door. She made headway into the Grand Hall, which was not so grand anymore. Empty spaces, colorless squares where furniture had been, and holes in the wall were all that remained of a once-magnificent manor.
Soon, Minnie and Hattie found their way into the Grand Hall, still pushing and shoving one another. But Minnie broke apart from her twin and raced to the door as soon as she heard her father's footsteps climbing the stairs. The woman grabbed hold of her skirts, lifting them as she opened the door.
Sunlight burst in and the dark figure of a man stood in the doorway. He took a few steps forward, before announcing: "Hello, my girls!" in a boisterous tone.
Minnie squealed with delight, throwing her arms about her father's shoulders.
The man patted his daughter on the shoulder, a bit taken aback by the sudden embrace. "Now, now, Minerva—"
Minerva. The sickening sweetness of honey, and the cakey feel of rouge on one's cheeks.
"—I haven't been gone for that long. What is all this affection for?" he laughed heartily, the sound erupting from his belly.
Minnie pulled away. "Oh, nothing, Father. I'm just so glad to see you." She smiled with her hands behind her back, a twinkle in her emerald green eyes.
"You cannot fool me, girl. I'm your father after all. You want something, don't you?" he asked, a wise, knowing look in his eye.
Minnie grinned, biting down on her lip. "Fine, you've figured me out," she said, looking behind her and catching a glimpse of her twin sister in the corner of her eye. The woman then turned back around to face her father, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Actually… I believe Hattie wants to have a private audience with you first, Father."
Hattie's jaw fell to the floor. "I— Erm…" she stammered, before shooting a glare at her twin. "Minnie!"
The woman shrugged. "You said you wanted to speak with him as soon as he arrived home, so here's your chance."
"Well, I—" Hattie cleared her throat, perplexed. "I— Erm…"
Father stopped the woman before she could go any further, putting his hand out. "Excuse me, Henrietta—"
Henrietta. A name that has to put in an effort at being beautiful and feminine. If only it were "Etta" alone without "Henri".
"—but it will have to wait for another time. I wish to have a private audience with your sister." His eyes fell on Rose.
The young girl froze, clenching the spine of her book. Her cheeks flushed.
Minnie and Hattie gazed at one another, their brows arched. They both crossed their arms at the same time.
"Come, we have important matters to discuss," Father said, perspiration forming at his brow. The man took his hat off and guided Rose into the gathering room, shutting the door behind him.
Rose took deep breaths as she slid around the gathering room. It felt as though she were walking through a dream, and she couldn't quite feel her legs as they moved. She couldn't quite feel anything. But eventually, the girl found her chair, and she set herself into it.
The old man plodded across the room until he plopped down into a larger, bulkier chair next to her round, petite one. He let out a hefty sigh and rubbed his lower back. "Ach, these old aching bones!" he cried, then laughed, teasing the girl. "It's been hurting all day long!"
Rose giggled, letting some of the tension out of her fingers. She loosened the grip on her book. "Oh, Father, surely you are not hurting that bad, or you wouldn't have been out journeying today!" she played.
"An observant girl, you are, my Darling Lizzie Rose."
Darling Lizzie Rose. The essences of beauty, childhood, and love all wrapped into one single name. It tasted like a buttery, flakey croissant fresh out of the fiery oven, melting in Rose's mind.
The old man's eyes shone at the magnificent creature he had sired. But that smile and the beam in his eyes fell away, and the wrinkle lines about his brow and temple reappeared.
"What's wrong, Father?" the girl questioned, leaning forward. Her chair creaked.
The old man bit the inside of his cheek, then reached his large, weathered thumb and forefinger to his temple, rubbing. "Oh, my daughter, you know I would never force you to do something with which you are in disagreement."
Rose felt a knot twist in her stomach, as though she was being eaten from the inside. "Of course, Father. I know," she said, her blue eyes blank and devoid of emotion.
He winced, his teeth grinding together. "That is why this decision is so difficult for me to make, my Lizzie Rose," he said. "I do not wish to bring you unhappiness."
Rose sighed, shaking her head. "Father, you have always arranged for everything to be of my best interest. And, I'm sure, whatever it is that troubles you so, will be beneficial for my well-being."
The girl smiled reassuringly at the old man, and he perked. "You're absolutely right, Lizzie Rose. And, if you are not in agreement with this, I am not forcing you to do so by all means. It is your choice."
Choice. The word sounded so lovely, so near and yet so far away—dreamlike. But surely it was a curse. She didn't even know what choice was to be made, yet she felt already as though this was the end of her freedom in life.
"Alright, Father, I am ready. What is it you wish to ask of me?"
His brows lifted, and the man's dusky brown eyes flew about the room. "Oh, my Darling Lizzie Rose," he said, choking on his words, "I know that you are not wishing to be married—especially to someone whom you have never met—but… might you consider a union with the baron?"
The baron. People whispering in the town square. Flashes of lightning that might have been evil spirits. And a black castle on top of a hill Rose had only seen in her nightmares.
Whispers sounded from behind the door, then shushing noises. The old man squinted in the direction of the noise, then faced his youngest daughter again, whose face had turned a sickening white—the color of frozen lakes covered in snow, with the souls of fish trapped inside for the winter.
"Oh, he's quite an agreeable man, my daughter, with many notable accomplishments. Although I haven't seen him, I've heard quite a few things about him from his mother, and you know what a lovely woman the baroness is…"
The baroness. Round, like the faces of women in paintings. A familiar face, but one Rose would have to squint at to be sure it was her in a crowd.
"Yes, I know…" Rose said, looking down at her book, running her thumb over the title. Her brows twisted together. "But I don't understand, Father. Why would such an accomplished gentleman—a baron, no doubt—want me for a wife? Isn't he already engaged anyhow?"
The old man glanced downward and let out a small, hesitant laugh. "Well, about that, dear, you see, the engagement has been called off."
Rose gasped. "But why?"
"I'm not sure I know the details of that, but…" He looked off into the distance, the wrinkles on his forehead lengthening. "The old baroness is in poor health, daughter. She wants to see her son married before her time comes."
Rose shivered, her eyes widening. "I didn't know she was in poor health…"
"I didn't either until our visit today." He sighed. "This is the only option, so she told me." The old man laughed suddenly, his worn teeth sticking out of his mouth. "You know, she always found you very agreeable, the most agreeable of all eligible maidens in the village."
Rose remained frozen in the ice.
His smile fell and he cleared his throat. "My Darling Lizzie Rose," he took hold of her cold hands, "the baroness has made a plan for me to earn the title of a gentleman if you agree to marry her son. Just think: I am to become a gentleman, and you, a baroness." He patted her hand, hoping to lift her face with his eyes, but alas, he could not. "I know this is all so sudden, darling, but this could be the only chance we have," he pleaded. "The baroness knows our situation and is willing to help."
Rose ducked her head, and small, fiery red curls fell out of her updo, cascading over her eyes. "Father, you know I would do anything to save us. Even sell all of my books and paintings if I had to."
"I would never let you do such a thing. They mean so much to you. Besides," he leaned in closely, whispering, "those don't cost even half the fortune of your sisters' wardrobes." He winked.
Rose grinned slightly, peering off to the side. "Oh, Father, you're so good to me. And… Thank you for allowing me to decide on my own what is to be done."
"Of course, darling," he said. "Do you need some time to decide?"
Rose looked up at her father and noted his kind smile, but his lips quivered and there were tired wrinkles around his eyes. She then turned her head to face the door. The shadows of her sisters' feet were under it.
Rose winced, clenching her jaw. "I... have heard the tales about him," she whispered, closing her eyes.
"So have I, my Darling Lizzie Rose," he said, his voice deep and grave. "That is my only concern, that you will be unhappy with his outward form. But, my daughter, I have inquired and inquired, and still, the baroness will say nothing, only changing the subject to brag on his character."
Lifting her head, Rose looked her father in the eye. She gripped his hands. "Well, I've never been one to judge someone by their appearance… and who knows? He may be comely after all." She breathed in deep, her chest and neck straightening up. "But, if he is of good character and willing to help us… then I shall have no choice but to marry His Lordship."
His Lordship. A title as tall as God. Always watchful. He had surely known since the time of Rose's birth that she was to become his bride.