Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life
Written by the Sapphire Prince
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Previously:
In the last chapter, Rosie coped with being single. Hannah told Rosie that she was expecting in a letter. Holden announced that he and Lady de Belleville were to visit his overbearing mama. Peony had her child, Penelope McDermott. Skyler called on Rosie, they went on a walk and captured two Rapidash. Diablo, Rosie's Rapidash, didn't trust her yet, and set her hair and clothes on fire. She was highly disheveled in front of Skyler, who tried to help, but she ran away. This chapter, the famed masquerade is in session.
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Chapter Eight
The Durham masquerade was all that was everyone's lips the week after Penelope McDermott was born. The Durham family hosted this ball each year on the Saturday of the second weekend of July and it was all the rage.
To most young women, this was the highlight of their existence. They become someone, or something, and wore a mask, behaving any which way they wanted to, and having the option of not revealing themselves. It was the single most invigorating day of their entire year.
Well, except Rosie; but she was not a permanent resident in Calendula anyways. Nonetheless, it was still exciting and something very different from her usual days, preparing meals, holding the baby, and helping to make clothing for her.
It was all good to her, but she did it every day and everyone gets tired of doing the same old routine.
Actually, she did have someone else plaguing her thoughts. It takes no effort to guess who it was. All that she could think of was his shocked expression and how hurt he look when she ran away.
She questioned her behavior, debating on whether it was the correct thing to do. She realized that she was embarrassed to be in that horrible state of dishabille, as would any respectable young woman. And, much to her surprise, she had not wanted him to see her the lest bit naked until after they were married; if, she even had a chance now.
What disturbed her most was the fact that he had not called on her to see how she was fairing. Any honorable gentleman would have done so, but Freddie was much more than honorable, he was understanding.
He must have known that he was the last person that she wanted to see, especially when her hair was a burnt mess. Therefore, he staid lodged in his hotel, and training his Rapidash, Inferno, to pass the days until the masquerade commenced.
She thought of how Peony and her uncle reacted once she revealed herself, and laughed.
Firstly, she had run straight up to her chamber and rung the bell for a servant. Whilst she waited, Eleanor questioned her thoroughly, making sure that nothing was being kept from her. Once the servant arrived, looking as if she were about to burst out in laughter, Rosie asked her to fill up the bathtub. Once that task was completed, she bathed herself and washed her mangled hair and put on a fresh white frock.
A knock had sounded on her door and she allowed her uncle in, who promptly screamed when he saw her hair, and told her that her aunt wished to see her.
Reluctantly, she marched into her room, where Penny was lying on her mother, asleep. Penelope took one look at her and stifled a scream.
"What happened?" she demanded.
"My Rapidash set me on fire. It was my fault really: I should not have been so foolish. One would think that I would have known better, considering that I have been training for the longest time."
"And where was Skyler at this time?" she asked, rather infuriately.
"He saved me. He tackled me—"
"Tackled?"
"...Yes, to the ground. He used his hands and rolled me to stop my dress from burning and he threw dirt in my hair to stop the flame. He saved my life. I do not know what my fate would have been without him. He is my hero now that I think of it."
"The only thing we need to think about is finding you a hairdresser. We will have to get that cut into a fashionable style and if I were you, I would not accept his call, if he dares to show his face."
"I am pretty sure that he won't. He's rather efficient when it comes to knowing human and pokemon behavior. He seems the type to place himself in my shoes."
"Are you in love with him?" The question was random.
Rosie's gaze met Peony's raised eyebrow, and said, "I do not know."
"What do you mean that you do not know? Either you do or you do not, it is as simple as that."
"It is not simple," she hissed, "you, who have experienced love, should know, of all people."
"I think that you have known him long enough to decide."
"Well, I am not; but if he were to ask, I believe I would accept."
"Why, Rosie?" Peony bleated, "why you ever do such a thing?"
"For the sake of not being alone."
"That's nonsense! A marriage should be based on a foundation of love, if that's not there, then what is there to fall back on?"
"Friendship," she replied. "I believe that you must be someone's friend before you can truly love them."
"What if you find that you cannot love him?"
"Then..." she stammered, her gaze anywhere but her aunt's eyes. "Then I shall have to grit my teeth and bare it. Besides, I am sure that we would have children; I could love them."
"You sound so stupid Rosamunde, completely unlike the niece that I so adored."
Rosie winced. Perhaps she did deserve this.
"My niece would not settle for a marriage like that: a marriage barren of love."
"I am your niece, Aunt Peony. I believe that I could love him Aunt Peony, I just do not right now."
"Maybe you do and you just cannot tell right now."
"I doubt it."
Peony groaned, "I am not in the position to argue with you. We sound like two sisters."
"I have always thought of you as a sort of big sister."
Peony smiled and stifled a tear, "that is so sweet. I thought of you as a little sister. When one is the youngest, one always wants someone to call little instead of being called that oneself."
They embraced one another. "I cannot stop you from doing this. It might be a mistake, it might not. That's for you to decide. You are in control of your own fate."
"Thanks for realizing that."
"Well," she said, stroking her child's head ever so gently, "I will have to confine you to our premises until the modiste comes."
"I'd gladly stay here."
"Good."
"Well, you had better get some rest, I will bring you some supper in a few hours." With that she had left the room and closed the door behind her. She slumped up against it. Why did she feel this way? she had thought.
Rosie's mirth ended after she thought of her discussion with her Aunt. She decided that she was a fool and a shameless one at that.
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Charlene, or rather Mrs. Jones, expertly rubbed her bow over the strings of her violin as she practiced for the next concert that she was to be in with her husband, Chadwick.
This life suited her, she thought. They traveled to many different places in the islands, places she had never been to like the Scattered Isles. The experience was invigorating and who else was there more perfect to experience it with than the man of her dreams?
Chadwick was an attentive husband. He made sat down when she took her lessons with the tutor. He told her his honest opinion on her performances. He helped compose music. He pleased her in more ways than one. He was the perfect husband in her estimation.
Right then, Chadwick sat on the golden damask sofa of their house, Portland Manor, on Hydrangea Island. He listened intently, admiring her natural grace in the way she moved her limb, and her posture, so upright, never slouching. He could tell that she was really concentrating.
"Ugh!" she grunted as she hit a sour note. "I always mess up on that part."
"This is the concerto right?"
"Yes, the Donphan Song. I know that it is supposed to be adagio and mezzo-forte, but where I have to go into the rapid sixteenth notes, signifying it performing a roll-out, I always mess up. I cannot do allegro very well. I have to work on it."
"Oh," he nodded understandingly.
He sauntered over and squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "I am confident that you'll be able to achieve your goal. The song is already complete, you just have to master playing it."
"I know, I know." She shook her head. "I do not think that I would have ever gotten into this if I hadn't married you. I cannot believe that I've played in concerts alongside yourself. Everything has been a blur."
"One gets used to it after awhile. When one is in demand, then one must keep one's audience satisfied."
"Do not you ever grow weary of this lifestyle? Do not you ever wish to settle down and just relax?"
"Of course I do."
"Then why don't we do it? We have been on tour for two months already!"
"Are you complaining?"
"No, it is just that—"
"But you are," he scoffed. "Are you not happy?"
"I am happy, truly. I just want to stay put and explore my surroundings is all. It seems like all that we ever do is play music. I love music, but I want to do other things: wifely things."
"Like what?"
"I do not know—crochet, maybe. Embroider handkerchief, make us clothing," she muttered under her breath, "raise a family."
"I heard that!"
"Well?"
"You know that if we do that then I won't be able to be as good a father as I would like to be if I am performing."
"Then stop performing."
"Never; it is my livelihood," he hissed.
"For God's sake Chadwick, we're wealthy! We have a fat bank account! We could do nothing for the rest of our lives and still live comfortably!" she exclaimed.
"I do not like being idle."
"Then let's make a farm or better yet...you could just write music."
"It is a good idea but it is me who the fans want."
"Insolent man! how proud can you be! If your audience hasn't dwindled since you married me, meaning that you were no longer available, then it won't ever do so."
She had a point.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, throwing his hands up.
"I want you Chadwick Jones. I want you, nothing occupying your time but me. Is that so much to ask?"
He didn't answer.
"Let us just try it for six months or so, okay?"
Still no answer.
She got up and clutched his face in her hands, and stared into his immense blue eyes, the very eyes that drove her senses crazy every night. "Do it for me Chadwick; I promise, you won't regret it."
She could feel him loosen up.
She sealed the deal with a kiss.
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The glittery midnight blue fabric shone like a ray of light in Rosie's hands as she admired her handiwork. She sighed contentedly.
She had purchased this fabric at Grey's early that beautiful morning and bought all of the material that she needed for that evening. This included some sheer, gossamer like fabric and some material to make her mask out of, as well as a black, elastic band.
After she left Grey's, she had scurried over to the coiffure shop and purchased some blond dye and a blue streaking kit. She had to be sure that nobody, absolutely nobody would notice that it was her.
Her aunt and uncle had already left, but little Penelope was left with Rosie, for she had shown no inclination towards going the entire time. However, Rosie had cleverly trusted her into the care of Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, and went about making her costume.
She was to be a fairy queen.
The midnight blue dress was, as heretofore mentioned, very shiny and moderately stretchy. It had silvery blue ruffles that encased the square-neck, spiraled down, with very much space in between the ruffles, only enough for a single twist, to the hem. Here, it encircled it. It was altogether scandalous, much ahead of her time.
The matched mask was decorated with blue and silver sequins and covered everything but her mouth, which she painted with matching blue lipstick. Underneath the mask she wore a touch a turquoise eye-shadow in order to make her own eyes appear darker.
Done with her makeup, Rosie stepped away from her mirrored vanity and took off her robe. She pulled the dress on from her feet, poked her arms through the holes, and adjusted herself. She looked at the looking glass and immediately concluded that the dress fit her like a sin and she would drive many people, both men and women, crazy.
She positioned the gossamer wings on her back and stepped into her cobalt French heels.
She smiled as she looked at her new haircut and coloring. The modiste had cut it up to her shoulder, and feathered it. Then she advised Rosie to do whatever she pleased with it from there. Rosie had wisely left it as it was in front of her aunt. After she left, Rosie died it a platinum blond and streaked it with midnight blue. Then, she flipped the ends up, thenceforth completing her coiffure.
Lastly she applied her mask, thus completing her costume.
"How do I look?"
Ellie and Dew were speechless.
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I should have known better than to think that Rosie would have been at a gathering like this, Skyler thought as scanned the ballroom, she's probably trying to avoid me.
The room was spectacular in more ways then one. There were exquisite chandeliers, full of candles suspended midway in the air. The tables were covered with white cloth and golden silverware. And the people, were at their best in their costumes.
Skyler himself had been a bit daring in his own costume. He was dressed as a Grecian deity, Zeus to be exact. He wore a white muslin cloth, edged with gold and green ribbon that covered his lower body. On his torso, he was bare, showing off his chiseled bronze physique. His newly cropped spiky hair, was crowned by a crown of green leaves, and he wore a simple white mask that covered only his eyes. His black tattoo from the Navy, of an anchor, complimented his bulging bicep very well, and complemented his entire costume.
Nobody knew that it was him, not even Peony and Mr. McDermott. He had even sustained conversation with them and they could pick up on his identity. He had adopted a deeper, more baritone voice instead of his normal bass.
To make things even more complicated, for he was saddened by Rosie's absence, was the fact that young debutantes kept flocking towards him and making excuses to touch his body. Each one was shameless as it is, they made things worse by giggling and babbling like idiots and making him dance with them.
When the clock stroke eleven, just when the doors were about to close, Rosie arrived unfashionably late and hid amongst the shadows.
Skyler's attention riveted from a beaming redhead's face, to the voluptuous figure of the pronounced mystery woman. His breath was swept away, and he knew that she was special and he just had to speak with her and dance with her.
"I am sorry but please excuse me," he said as he walked away.
The smile vanished off the girls face. She shrugged unaffectedly and sat down with her mama.
A crowd had engulfed the woman, showering her with compliments. She smiled graciously, but when he got nearer her gaze met his, and she smiled seductively. His heart skipped a beat and he blood grew hot and if he had a collar he would have tugged at it.
He made his way to her, the other men realizing that she had her sights on him, thus backing away, and took her hand and stamped it with a kiss. The way his eyes focused so intently made Rosie's stomach do unusual things.
"Good evening Mademoiselle," he said in his new voice, "would you savor me a waltz?"
"Of course," she said, her voice more raspier, more sensual as she took her hand.
He led her to the floor, turning everyone's head and settled his hand on her hip, which caused her to shudder uncharacteristically, and intertwined his fingers with hers, and led her into the dance.
They twirled and twirled, the world spinning around them. However, they only stared deeply into each other's eyes, paying no heed to anything but one another.
Something was vaguely familiar about those eyes, Skyler deduced; yet, he could not place his finger upon it.
Rosie knew that it was him, and was amazed at how good it felt to have him so near her. It sent shivers down her spines when she first saw him, looking like he could actually be a deity. She hadn't known what perfection was under that handsome Navy coat until then, and she hadn't known how good he looked with short, spiky hair.
When he had danced with her four times, twice as many which seems proper for an unmarried woman, he led her outside to the balcony, which overviewed the ocean. Candles were everywhere and the moon was delightfully full. A full silver moon right on the horizon on the sea...how perfect—how romantic.
"Who are you?" he wondered.
"You will know when the clock strikes twelve," she said.
It was eleven forty-five right then.
"I do not know if I can wait that long."
In the back of his mind, he knew that he should not even be here, with this mystery woman with blonde and blue hair. He was for Rosie not her, yet his emotions were getting the best of him.
She shushed him by placing a gloved finger to his lips. She pinched her right glove with her left, at the fingers, and pulled the silk glove off. She stroked his face with her fingers, making him glad that he wore confining underwear under his, almost-loincloth.
"Patience is the key to life," she whispered.
They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. He leant forward and whispered in her ear, the heat of his breath made her shiver in ecstasy. "I just have to figure out who you are. Your eyes are vaguely familiar."
He looked at his watch. It was eleven fifty-seven: almost time.
"Hold me."
He secured his arms around her waist, her body positively melded into his own. He leant down and brushed his lips on hers, arousing a weird knot in her stomach. Was this love or just desire?
Whatever it was, she wanted more of it.
He wondered what demon had possessed him to take such liberties with a woman he did not know, especially when he cared for Rosamunde.
He kissed her again, this time longer, causing time to stand still. His hands cupped her derriere and squeezed, her lips parted and his tongue met hers and tousled with one another. Her breathing became labored and her bosom heaved and the knot grew tighter. Her hands caressing the bare skin of his back—
The clock stroke twelve.
"It is time," she said.
She pushed herself away from him.
"Yes," he said, "it is."
He pulled off his mask, his stony eyes eager to see who this femme fatale was.
Rosie slowly slipped off her mask, revealing her beautiful face. She still puzzled him nonetheless.
"I still do not know you, but I am feeling very...different," he admitted.
She slapped him across his face, she did not know why, but she just did.
He clutched his face, much more in surprise than in pain. "What was that—"
"How dare you?"
"How dare I what?" he asked confusedly.
"Kiss me."
"I am sorry Mademoiselle if I dishonored—"
"It is I, Rosie!" she interrupted.
"Rosie, but how?"
"Makeup Skyler, makeup and hair coloring!"
He blushed. "I-I-I'm-I'm—"
"Save it Freddie." She paced around the balcony. "I do not know why, but I felt something tonight and I have been debating on whether it was love or just desire."
He frowned.
"I decided that it was both," she said staring him in the eyes.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"But how dare you—I mean, what if it wasn't me?"
"Rosie," he retorted, "you have been giving me mixed signals. My feelings got the best of me."
"I am truthfully sorry for being such a b—"
"Stop."
She looked into his eyes and she melted. "I think that I am in love with you. It took me a long time to realize it but I do now—"
He smothered her with a kiss that rendered her breathless.
"Then marry me," he said pulling out a velvet box and a ring.
"Now?—" she asked but was quickly silenced by the immense beauty of the ring.
"I cannot—"
"You can."
"But..." she stammered.
"Please so yes or no."
She sighed, "I will have you now and forever."
He beamed, his dimples more pronounced than ever, which made her melt once more.
"We have to get married tomorrow."
"Tomorrow! What about my mother and—"
"It is the only way. I have to go back to the Navy Rosie, and I need you with me. I couldn't bare to have a long engagement. Who knows when I would come back, and if I would come back."
"Skyler, I—"
"Do you want to spend your life with me, like I want to do with you?"
"I guess so."
"Yes or no!"
"Yes, I do."
"Then, we must marry and leave tomorrow."
"I will do it Frederic Skyler."
They then sealed the deal with a kiss. Rosie could have sworn that she saw a shooting star. She wished that they shall live in marital bliss, until their dying days...
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THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF LOVE IN THE FLOWER ARCHIPELAGO: ROSIE'S LOVE LIFE. —THE SAPPHIRE PRINCE