A/N Thanks to all my reviews so far!! Hope you like this chapter!! ^_^ Hmmm I should be doing my i.c.t coursework. . .oh well. . .what do you think?

Chapter Four ~ In the Woods

Imogen Farmer was a flighty girl, she moved from one man to another without a great deal of discomfort. Her father disapproved of her way of life, but was willing to tolerate his daughter's wild behaviour as long as she didn't get into too much trouble.

Lance was just another in a long line of suitors, only he was different from the rest. Mainly because he was the only one who had managed to get a ring on the desirable lady's finger. Imogen, who had once said, 'I shall never get married' was soon turned by the relatively wealthy Lance Weathering.

He was tall, attractive, and didn't talk too much, everything she desired in a man. Not that his fortune would stretch to first class, but any passage on the Titanic, be it steerage, or first was to be cooed over. Imogen caused much jealously amongst the inhabitants of the town.

All except Rosa. Rosa wasn't jealous. She still treated Imogen with the same harshness she reserved for her. Imogen was a nasty creature, one who sought fun without really care who she stole it from, even if that person was her own father. It was clear he was near a nervous breakdown trying to deal with his overactive father. Rosa shook her head as she watched Mr Farmer stumble miserably to work.

The people of the town blamed it on her being motherless, but Rosa would always object.

"I had no mother," She told them, coldly. "An' I turned out just fine."

There were a few sniggers as the crowd dispersed, but Rosa ignored them.

What really bothered her was the affect the Titanic was having on Amelia. The idea of America was firmly implanted in her mind. She even worked up the courage to approach Lady Gwendolyn.

"Excuse me aunt," she said, curtsying.

Her aunt glared at her, coldly. "Child?"

"I want to go and see my mother, ma'am."

"Your mother?" Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed.

"Your mother is nothing but a worthless trollop, she abandoned you, I took you in, you ungrateful little brat!" The woman screeched.

"No, aunt, I just want to see her again, I'm not ungrateful."

"Don't you dare contradict me!" She shouted. "Now out of my sight at once!"

Mia ran from the room in fright. Rosa followed with a glare from Lady Gwendolyn.

"Mia." Rosa said, gathering the child up in her thin arms.

Mia pushed away. "Leave me alone!" She said, as she ran up the stairs.

Rosa shook her head.

It was sad that all Mia wanted was her mother. And the one thing she wanted, out of all the world was the one thing closed to the child. Rosa didn't know why, but she felt drawn to the child, she felt herself caring like she had never cared for anyone before. Probably because in her lonely, short little life she had never had anyone to care for. But now that she did, now that she had found Mia she wasn't going to let her go.

Rosa stepped up a few stairs, but shook her head once more, and retreated back down. Her mind flicked to Imogen Farmer, a girl who could reduce her father to tears with a single look. Why did good things happen to bad people?

Rosa spent her free time, as always talking a walk. She felt that the walls of Dudley Manor represented a prison, and she was eager to escape into the sunshine. She strolled towards the woods, avoiding the bustling town, she had no desire to bump into the aspiring gossips, or the 'mean well' gentleman. The 'mean well' gentleman was Mia's nickname for the men of the town. Whenever they saw a young lady alone, or in a group they were determined to offer their services. As Mia complained about their persistence, Rosa would often remind her that they 'meant well'. And from then on they were the 'mean well' gentlemen.

She walked through the trees, kicking and scrunching the leaves under foot.

The unanswered question still whirred around her mind, along side the picture of the desperate Mia crying for her mother.

"Why do good things happen to bad people?" She muttered to herself.

Suddenly she heard laughter, not the laughter of an innocent child, but the high pitched laugh of a young woman, having fun. Rosa, intrigued, picked her way towards the noise. The sight that greeted her innocent eyes sent her reeling.

In a small hollow, surrounded by a circle of trees, lay Imogen Farmer. The man she lay with was certainly not Lance Weathering.