The casket was open and the church empty. Rose's quiet sobs echoed throughout the building—overpowering the sound of the rain pattering against the window panes and rooftop. She wrapped her arms around her chest, rocking back and forth in the pew. Her face was embarrassingly red and so she was glad no one was there to see her.
The church looked like Hell. The suffocating red of the walls closed in on her. It was cold and hot at the same time.
The casket was calling to her; she couldn't keep her eyes off of it. Through tears, she took in its blurry form—long and narrow and intimidating.
She hadn't seen the baroness in years. She recalled a portrait she had seen of her once, with plump, pink cheeks. Only, Rose wasn't sure she even looked like that at all.
As the girl got up from the pew, it felt like she was treading through water, walking with chains on her legs. The church grew quiet. The sound of the rain ceased. It was silent everywhere. Even her heartbeat was inaudible.
The casket grew in size as she got closer. Suddenly it was the only thing she could see—outlined in black, like a vignette.
And what did a corpse look like? Rose shivered at the thought. Was the baroness still herself as a corpse? Or was a corpse just a dead thing—an inanimate object made of earth and dust?
Rose hadn't seen a corpse in years either. Not since—
Thunder clapped, shattering the church windows. Rose let out a shriek. It was her own mother lying in the casket. The woman's face was gaunt, with high cheekbones and greenish-gray skin. Her long brown hair framed her face, and Rose couldn't see all of it but knew it went down to the woman's ankles. Her eyes were closed but she did not look at peace; she looked disturbed, as though her work were unfinished. As though she had more to say to her daughter.
Rose jerked back. She fell to the floor, sobbing and screaming. She felt the black swallowing her now. The blackness tore into her soul, cursing her with a single proclamation.
She would die. She would, just as her mother had. Her mother was coming out of the grave to curse her own daughter. Rose's life was at its end.
All the torches and lights in the room died, snuffed out by the wind and the rain. Green and yellow lightning struck her heart. The crows came in from outside, whirling around the church interior. Flashes of lightning revealed her mother's hollowed face. This was surely death.
But just then, there was the scent of cigars, wafting in from behind her—wrapping around her, saving her. That homey scent of tobacco, and the warmth of the hearth. The smell of old books that her father read to her at night when she was a child.
Rose felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, but yet, the grip was still firm. It was the steady hand of her father. He had come to rescue her. The curse was broken and she breathed in a sigh of relief.
The girl turned around, away from the casket, lifting her head up.
But it was not her father.
A dark figure, clothed in a black cover-up. It didn't have a face. Or if it did, she couldn't make it out. It stood tall above her, much taller than her father. It extended its arm out to her.
At first, she thought it was the Grim Reaper—but the figure smelled too much like home to be the Grim Reaper. And its hand wasn't cold, but warm.
Rose shivered as she took the hand of the tall, dark figure. It wrapped its cloak around her, and for the first time in her life, the color black was warm and inviting.
The Beast was warm and inviting.
The shattering claps of thunder turned into persistent knocks on the door. And the black that had enveloped her became the black of the back of Rose's eyelids.
"Miss! Miss Bourne, are you in there? Miss Bourne?" Lucy called out in alarm.
Rose opened her eyes, focusing on the canopy of her bed. She felt stiff, as stiff as the mahogany wood in the room. And she found that she couldn't move her eyes; they stayed in one spot. She tried to move them, but it hurt to do so.
The girl opened her mouth, took in a breath, and out came a raspy voice she didn't recognize: "Yes, Lucy. I'm in here. Do come in."
"Oh, my dear!" Lucy's voice grew in sound as she opened the door and entered. "You sound as though you've caught cold! I told Mrs. Kensington it weren't no good for you to be out in the rain yesterday like you were."
"A… cold?" Rose lifted her aching arms up to her neck, feeling it. There was a lump there where her throat was swollen.
"Yes, dear. Now let me see about you." Lucy appeared above Rose, her ruddy face drenched in perspiration. "Oh goodness me," she said upon looking at the girl, and then felt her forehead. "Yes, I do believe you've got a temperature. That's no good at all, is it?"
Rose moaned, her arm falling back down beside her on the bed. "Were you calling for me for long?"
"Oh, what does it matter 'ow long I was standin' out there? My mistress caught cold and now I must take care of 'er. I'm just glad I got 'ere when I did to wake you up. What if you'd been left to sleep all day long? I know some folk leave their mistresses to just sleep the day away. Well, I'm not about to let such a thing 'appen. No, not at all." Lucy gathered up her skirts, a determined look in her eye, and went over to the doorframe. She rang the bell for assistance from other servants.
"Do you know the time?" Rose asked, shutting her eyes and shivering.
"Yes, ma'am. Six o'clock," she declared, turning around, a prideful gleam in her eye. "The time I wake up all me mistresses I've ever 'ad. I'll wake you up earlier or later though if you so please."
"No, this time is just fine." Truthfully, Rose had always slept a bit longer, but she did not want to disturb Lucy's schedule.
A few minutes passed, and soon enough, several maids—including Mrs. Kensington—arrived. Rose winced at the thought of so many people helping her.
"What happened?" Mrs. Kensington's strict, stern voice sounded.
"Miss Bourne's caught cold," Lucy said.
Rose heard the sound of water sloshing in a bowl, and then the sound of someone wringing out a towel.
"I had a feeling something like this might happen," Mrs. Kensington said. "Your family told me you had asked to stay at the mausoleum—by yourself—for a few minutes. Just how long did you stay?"
Rose opened her eyes and turned her head to face the woman. Mrs. Kensington's arms were crossed and a disapproving look spread across her face.
"I did not stay for very long, Mrs. Kensington." She felt the crackles in her throat as she spoke. "It wasn't very long until His Lordship came and—"
The air in the room stiffened. The rustling sound of each of the maid's bustles ceased; everyone stopped and stayed in place. Rose felt her breath catch in her throat.
Mrs. Kensington took a few steps forward. The look on her face changed. It was the same look that she had on the day when she told Rose about the Beast. "His Lordship was there?"
Lucy walked around to the other side of the bed, a worried look in her eyes. She laid a towel down on Rose's forehead, glancing back-and-forth between the girl and Mrs. Kensington.
Rose faltered. The events of the night before filtered back in through her mind, coming all at once like a long-lost memory that had somehow been captured. "W-we happened upon each other by mistake. He entered the mausoleum while I was alone. I likely would've stayed longer if he had not come. And then—he walked me back to my room."
"I see." Mrs. Kensington cleared her throat. She uncrossed her arms and put her hands behind her back.
The girl turned her head from Lucy to Mrs. Kensington; she still couldn't move her eyes. "I know I should've had a chaperone, but I only intended to be by myself for a few moments. And my father agreed to let me alone—"
"No, no, Miss Bourne. That is not an issue," Mrs. Kensington said.
Rose felt her muscles ache and her chest draw up. "Was I not to have seen His Lordship? He did have his cover-up."
She received silence in return for her question. The girl tried to sit up a little but immediately fell back down into the bed.
Suddenly, Lucy blurted out: "Oh, goodness me! Don't do that. Just stay like you are." The maid pulled the covers up over Rose's shoulders. She then stepped back, surveying the room, hands on her hips. "Well, why don't I just come out and tell the girl what we're all thinkin'?!" She turned again to face Rose. "Miss Bourne, we just weren't all expectin' to 'ear that you 'ad met 'is Lordship is all."
"Really? I thought word would've spread throughout the whole castle."
"Not a word." Lucy turned to face the older woman. "Did you know about it, Mrs. Kensington?"
"I had no idea." Mrs. Kensington's eyes were far away and distant, cold. "Excuse me, Miss Bourne. Miss Carter and the rest of the maids will take care of you. I have my other morning duties to tend to." She walked toward the door.
"Oh, yes, of course," Rose said sincerely. "I wouldn't want you to leave all of your other duties alone just to take care of me. I'm quite alright."
The older woman left without another word.
Lucy waited until Mrs. Kensington's footsteps echoed down the hallway and then disappeared before piping up: "Now what do you think that was all about? Leavin' so suddenly?"
"I'm sure she had other affairs to tend to. It's not like I'm the only other guest in the castle." Rose smiled.
"Oh, you're quite right!" Lucy's eyes bulged out. "And your family doesn't even know you're sick yet! Oh, dear me!" She frantically searched around the room before her eyes landed on two younger maids. "You two, go and inform the Bournes at once of the lady's state."
They curtsied and made headway out the door.
Rose sank deeper into the covers, and the remaining maids as well as Lucy bustled and hustled around her. Soon enough, wet towels enshrouded her entire face. The morning light began to rise over the mountains. It steeped into the room, lighting up the place. She tried to turn her head toward the doors leading to the balcony, but the towels clouded up her vision.
"Lucy?"
"Yes, dear?" the lady replied with utmost concern.
"Are all of these really necessary?" She pointed to the towels around her face and neck.
"Of course they are! Don't you want your fever to break?"
"I suppose…" Rose moaned, her body still stiff and achy. She felt like her throat had dead, crinkly leaves in it. They were scratching and scraping across her throat, making it itch. "What a fool I am…" she whispered.
"Why do you say that, dearie?" Lucy ladled a glass of water and then some hot soup down Rose's throat.
She swallowed before speaking: "Oh, Lucy. I know I shouldn't have been out there yesterday." Her voice instantly sounded better, smoother.
"Well, we all make mistakes sometimes. There's no need in worryin' yourself anymore over it."
"You're right, Lucy." Rose's eyes gleamed as she saw the morning light streaking into the room, falling over her canopy bed and painting it a warm golden brown. "You're absolutely right."
Just then, the rounded wooden door to the room burst open. Rose twisted her head around.
"My Darling! My Darling Lizzie Rose!" Father exclaimed. He marched over to the bed, knelt down, and picked up the girl's hand. His face was covered with worry, his wrinkles more pronounced than usual. And his eyes were intense and focused, taking in her frame.
"Father." Rose's eyes smiled. She touched his old, wrinkled face with her other hand. "I'm so glad you came to check on me."
"I just heard the news that you were sick. Tell me, what do you think is the matter?"
Lucy piped up: "Nothin' more than a cold, sir. She should be well in a few days."
"Well, that's a relief." He sighed, resting his face on her hand. "I came to be so worried just now."
"You needn't worry about me, Father."
He shook his head knowingly. "Lizzie Rose. Always the selfless one." He pushed a few fiery curls out of her face, revealing her crystalline eyes. "I was planning on all of us going on home today but I suppose now that—"
Suddenly, a gasp escaped from Lucy's mouth. All heads turned to her. "Oh, oh, sir—" She caught herself, smiling. "Excuse me." She laughed and cackled for a bit, her plump cheeks rounding out. "Miss Bourne, I assure you, is quite alright in our care. I'm sure you 'ave business to be tendin' to at your own 'ome. Why don't you go on then? We'll take good care of 'er." Lucy forced out a grin, her teeth showing.
Father looked back and forth between the maid and Rose, unsure. He cleared his throat then swallowed, and Rose smelled the tobacco scent on him—the same one from her dream, the same one from the Beast the night before. "Well, I—" He looked into his daughter's eyes.
Rose sighed, her hand falling away from her father's face. "I know you need to go home, Father. I wouldn't want you to miss any more days that you could be working just because of me. When I feel well enough, I'll come on home."
"Are you sure, darling?" he asked earnestly.
"Yes, I'm sure. Lucy's taken good care of me, anyhow." Rose rolled over onto her side as best she could, grinning at the maid.
"I trust your judgment more than anyone. Very well then." He clasped his hands together. "I hope to see you back home and in good health in a few days."
◜❦︎◞
"And just when were you going to inform me?"
Beast turned around to face the door, where the old woman had just barged in. He put his cigar up to his lips and puffed out a ringlet of smoke. "Inform you of what, Mrs. Kensington?"
She put her hands on her hips and knitted her thin eyebrows together, so thin they only looked like crinkled folds of skin. "You spoke with her. Alone. And not even before the funeral, like I asked you."
"Ah, you mean the girl." Beast chuckled, low. "How did you find out?"
"I heard it straight from her lips." The woman lifted a brow.
He paused, twisting his cigar in-between his claws. "Really?"
"Who did you expect me to hear it from?"
Beast kicked up his feet on top of the desk, leaning back in his chair. "I thought perhaps one of the servants who saw us coming in had told you."
"And I am curious now why I did not hear from them first." She squinted at him. "You did not ask them to keep such information away from me, did you?"
"And what if I did?"
"I am the Head Maid of this castle, and I expect to know—"
Suddenly, Beast leaned up and took his feet off of the table. "And I am the master of this castle, and if I should not wish you to know all of my affairs, then you need to accept that, Mrs. Kensington."
The woman uncrossed her arms and unknitted her eyebrows, her steel-gray eyes faltering from their usual strength. She took a few steps back.
Beast continued, though with a cooler attitude: "And if a qualified young maid who has never been in consultation with my mother should happen to suddenly rise in the ranks, do not be surprised."
Mrs. Kensington bowed her head. "I understand, sir. I apologize for my impertinence."
Beast searched the woman's eyes then sat back in his chair. He put his cigar down and rubbed the back of his neck before speaking softly: "It's quite alright, Mrs. Kensington. I only hope that you will understand and respect my position here."
"Of course, sir."
"You're free to go if that's the only issue you wanted to talk about."
Mrs. Kensington's eyes suddenly grew in size, back to business as usual. "Actually, Your Lordship, I'm afraid it's not."
"Oh?" Beast lifted a brow, taking another puff of the cigar.
"Miss Bourne has come down with a fever."
Just as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Beast began couching up puffs up smoke, the cigar falling to the floor.
"Oh, Your Lordship, are you alright?" Mrs. Kensington asked, leaning forward.
"I'm fine. I'm fine." He held up a paw, clenching his throat with the other one. He looked up to the older woman, meeting her eyes. There were so many questions and pleads in his earth-stained eyes. "Miss Bourne is unwell?"
"I'm afraid so." Mrs. Kensington sounded earnest and concerned, but in her eyes, there was the slightest hint of a smile as she watched Beast fumbling around, not knowing what to do with himself at the news.
Beast collected himself, clearing his throat and dusting off his morning robe. His eyes followed the trail of the cigar but he did not move to pick it up.
Just then, the doors to the study opened. A messenger boy briskly paced to the inside. He bowed before Mrs. Kensington and Beast. "Your Lordship. I come with a message from the Bourne family."
Beast held his breath and his claws tensed around the armchair.
"Yes, young man?" Mrs. Kensington spoke up after peering over at Beast.
The boy continued: "The Bournes have decided to go home today, as planned. Mr. Bourne has business to tend to in town. However, since the youngest Miss Bourne is sick, she has decided to remain at the castle for a few more days until she is well enough to go home. Is this suitable with you, Your Lordship?"
Beast remained dumbfounded, a faraway look in his eyes.
The corners of Mrs. Kensington's lips curled upward. "Perfect."
Author's Note
I apologize for not updating in so long! I hope to have more updates over Winter break and going forward. Thank you to all my readers and commenters. I appreciate y'all so much. I hope y'all enjoyed learning a tiny bit more about Rose's past, as well as the first chapter where Beast and Rose's perspectives are both used. I hope to have more chapters like this in the future. Merry Christmas!