Chapter 7

The woman was a whirlwind of passion and power. She had this ethereal essence about her that could be felt from miles away. Agatha Dawson, youngest sister to the master of the household stepped out of the car, looked up and smiled at the house her father had built. Standing closest to the vehicles, Rose was only able to gaze at her in pure fascination. Being in her mid forties, Agatha contained a presence of eternal youth. Her white blonde hair was messily pinned up with multiple strands hanging over her fox fur scarf. Grabbing her purse from the chauffeur she turned towards Alexandra who came walking down the stairs. Mrs. Dawson welcomed her hesitantly and forced herself to smile. Rose observed the two and soon came to know that the sisters-in-law didn't quite seemed to get along with one another. Was this a vision for her own future, she asked herself. Rose then locked eyes with the visitor and her cheeks turned red. Agatha headed up to her before greeting anyone else. Rose was being judged, she could feel it all around her.

"I love your skirt. It looks quite athletic." Agatha smiled at the young girl.

"Thank you, ma'am." Rose pulled at her fabric and corrected the fit of her jacket. "It's actually a pair pants." She whispered. She had designed her riding habit together with her dressmaker, making it easier to ride a horse like a normal person. Yet, from the outside it still looked like she was about to set off on a sidesaddle.

Agatha laughed loudly and placed her hand on Rose's shoulder. "You're quite the character, miss Violet. I can understand what my cousin sees in you."

Rose's eyes widened and she shook her head heavily. "I am afraid you are mistaken, ma'am. I am only the sister, Rose." Then she pointed towards Violet who was standing next to Jack on the other side of the staircase. She felt embarrassed and look down, not moving until Jack let go of her arm. He strutted towards his aunt and placed a kiss on her cheek. "It is good to see you again, aunt Agatha." Ignoring the misidentification he lead her towards to right person, "May I introduce miss Violet DeWitt Bukater."

"How do you do, ma'am." Violet nodded, feeling somewhat intimidated by her presence. Agatha didn't seem to take any interest in her, apart from a formal introduction. It was an awkward affair between the whole family. The feeling of tensions and underlying conflicts most other people didn't have any notion of. Miss Dawson turned and moved her attention back to the other sister. Rose was still nervously pulling at her clothes. Strangely, her heart was pounding very fast and she wished she could disappear right here and now.

"Miss Rose, would you mind if I join you for a stroll around the woods?"

"I think it is a good idea," Jack interrupted them, "then you can accompany her and I can stay with miss Violet."

It was the first time Rose every agreed with the man. She had loved the idea of going out for a stroll as Trudy informed her the night before, but the thought of having to be the third wheel of those two love birds quite spoiled her excitement. Agatha freed her from that agony for she was nothing but good company. Within half an hour she had come to know all about her life. Unmarried, miss Dawson lived in the English countryside. Yes, she had her inheritance money, but her life was filled with purity and soberness. She didn't need much to be happy. Only they company of her maid and her freedom to travel the world, just like her father had done before her. Everyone either hated the woman or adored her in every way possible. Rose was captivated by her many tales as she listened attentively.

Violet, who had been ahead of them together with her beau, turned around. Her face was already flushed and she dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief. "Shall we take a break?"

"Violet, we have barely even moved." Her sister complained. Rose fastened her pace until she was next to them.

"It's been almost an hour and it's close to lunchtime."

Rolling her eyes, Rose eventually gave in to the request. It wasn't until they found a fallen down tree trunk they came to a halt. Servants had prepared a full on luncheon and Rose took everything out of her saddlebag. Laying out the blanket Rose dropped down next to Agatha. She continued about the first time she left her hometown, no older than eighteen. First, she traveled towards Italy, where she stayed for three years. But after a beautiful young man had broken her heart, Agatha decided not to ever fall in love again.

"Can you please stop gazing at my nephew when I am talking to you." Agatha suddenly said after a while. She chuckled and waved her hand in front of Rose's face. Brought back to reality she looked and the woman. "I am actually gazing at my sister." She quickly said and pulled a large piece off her sandwich, "she is very much in love with Mr. Dawson."

"I quite figured, she can't seem to leave him alone for one second. I.." Agatha stopped and shook her head, "no it is not fair to speak my opinion so bluntly."

"Please do."

"I have nothing against your sister, miss Rose, but I never imagined Jack with someone like her. Your sister is perfect in every way, you can't find a single fault that it almost makes her not human. My cousin is quite a passionate person, he likes a challenge."

Rose almost chocked on a piece of bread at the mention of the word passionate. She believed him to be anything but that. He was reserved, arrogant and proud like almost any man of their social class. His constant judgement is what vexed her, it was what made her hate to be in his presence. Agatha noticed the shock on the girls face and nodded her head. "At least he was before his brother passed away. All the spirit that was within him has disappeared. I don't even recognise him at times, but I like to believe that the real Jack is still there somewhere."

"What was he like then? Or is like?" A gust of wind made a shiver run down her spine. Agatha's expression turned soft, sad even. She had to be speaking the truth, Rose thought to herself.

"So loving in kind. Such a free little kid he was. He used to paint and draw all the time and I often took him to museums where he could roam around for hours, lost in his own world. After his studies, I convinced him to travel to Europe like his grandfather did. The letters he wrote to me all sounded like a dream." She took a deep breath, "Then came the news of course. And from that moment not only Geoffrey was dead, but also a piece of him."

"I.." Rose was at a loss of words. Peaking over Agatha's shoulder, another shiver ran along, but it wasn't from the wind nor the cold. It was hard to imagine him different than she had come to know him. Focussing on his blue eyes, she noticed there was indeed a form of sadness lingering to the surface, yet impossible to reach. Jack Dawson was not only grieving his brother, he was also grieving himself. Feeling the sensation of being watched, the young man looked up and they locked their eyes. Neither of them looked away as they were both entangled in a feeling beyond their notion. Did she forgot how to breath? Was she being lifted off the ground? Then Jack stood up, shook his head and kissed the top of Violet's hand before jumping back onto his horse and riding off. Her sister waved one last time and traced her fingers over her chest.

"Mr. Dawson had to go back to the house. He forgot he was expecting a phone call." Violet informed them, "perhaps it is best to return as well for I believe it is going to rain."

"Not in an hour or so." She lifted herself off the ground. "But if you want to go back, you can. I think I want to take another stroll." Violet was somewhat relieved at her suggestion. She had never been such a fan of outdoor activities. It made everything unnecessarily dirty and she could be doing something more productive with her time. Rose left the other two women behind and rode off into the open fields. The view was breathtaking. The endless view made her heart flutter. Although the roaring and the excitement of the city, Rose could really see herself live somewhere in a place with much more than busy roads and brick walls. Endlessness, freedom, it was what she lived for. After a long run over the meadows, it had slowly started pour down. Moving through the woods, still focused on finding her way back, she suddenly heard a murmur. It was a voice. A man. His words sounded vulgar to the tongue. As Rose moved closer, behind the trees a shadow appeared.

"Mr. Dawson?" Utterly surprised she jumped off and headed towards him. Even from afar Rose could see that his horse had gone lame and he was trying his hardest to get her back to the main house.

"I went too fast for her." He groaned, "Now she has gone lame. She barely wants to move."

"Take my horse, sir, perhaps you can still take your phone call."

Jack raised his eyebrow before shaking his head heavily. "You might despise me in every possible way, miss DeWitt Bukater, but even I am brought up well enough not to leave a woman alone in the woods." The rain had started to worsen and they knew they needed to head back. Jack fastened his horse the reigns of Rose's. Then he held out his hand to her. "Come here."

Rose remained standing and crossed her arms. She knew what he wanted to do. "I can get on the horse myself, Mr. Dawson."

"Fine," he sighed, "be my guest."

She moved past him, fast like lightning. Swinging her leg over the back, she positioned herself until she sat steadily.

"Now can you move forward, miss?" Rose held her breath and gritted her lips. Eventually, she did what he asked of her. After she had found her balance, she could feel his body close behind her own. His hands moved passed her sides as he took hold of the reigns. Her whole body tingled and not only because of the cold. She hated it. It would take them more than half an hour until they had returned. Thirty minutes of painful and awkward silence and she regretted she hadn't forced her suggestion on walking back herself. Jack's shoulder suddenly bumped into her. He mumbled an almost inaudible sorry.

"I never had to go back." Jack suddenly admitted after a long silence once more. Rose could feel the softness of his voice tingling in her neck. She closed her eyes and simply nodded. "It is not that I didn't want company," He continued, "It's just that I needed to be…"

"Alone." Rose filled in for him.

"Yes."

"Since when do you feel the need to justify you actions towards me?" It was a question he couldn't answer, for he was oblivious on why he confessed his thoughts to the one person he wanted to the very least. He resented her and she despised him. There would be not enough time to ever change that. And with that inner conclusion he still wandered why he did inform her with the truth.

The clock ticked three in the morning. Jack was still fully clothed as he laid on his bed and stared aimlessly at his ceiling. In the darkness of his room the smoke of his cigarettes danced in circled through the air. He had lost count on how many he had smoked, but by the leftover ashes on his nightstand and the burning feeling in his throat, he realised it were too many. His body felt restless, denying every part of him that wanted to sleep. Shuffling footsteps walked through the corridor and Jack shot up. He listened, heard they were going down the stairs. They sounded hasty. His shirt hang out of his trousers and his suspenders shifted to the side as he decided to discover the person behind the walk. He could hear them in the distance, stopping and then continuing in a hesitant way. Doors opened and closed until it suddenly stopped. And then; A tiny flame lit up a huge part of the room, enough for a silhouette to appear. He knew it was her. As weeks had passed, he had come to know every fragment of her being. It had all been observed from a safe distance and he was stuck between wanting to stay there and wanting to come closer. It was the way she stamped her feet when she was happy or shuffled silently like a mouse when she was frustrated. Everything about this young woman was triggering to him. She was like a shadow haunting his sanity and he couldn't control his ways of doing things. That was what made his dislike to her so big.

The shattering of a glass pulled him out of his miserable thinking. "Shit." He heard her curse softly. Jack turned his body until he was fully into the kitchen. "What on earth is this?" The firm tone of his voice frightened the intruder, followed by an even louder curse. As Jack turned on the light of the room he saw Rose sitting on her knees, holding one hand in the other. Blood was slowly dripping onto her night gown. Surrounded by glass, she shot up and wanted to escape from having been caught.

"Don't move," he instructed her, "you'll hurt yourself even more if you step in it too." He walked over to her and dropped down. Without asking, he took hold of her hand and inspected the damage. "Well there is nog glass in your hand, which is good."

"Wow, what a relief, Mr. Dawson. Now may I go get myself a bandage before I turn this kitchen into a murder scene?" There was still quite a lot of blood dripping down.

"Here." He grabbed a towel off the counter and wrapped it around the wound. "This will do. Now go wait over there whilst I clean up this mess." He reached for a bin and threw the large pieces of glass into it. There had to be more, but it was impossible to see in this dim light. Rose had positioned herself on top of the counter and stared directly down at her feet. They felt cold, her whole body felt as if it was freezing. Of course, it had to be him to find her like this. No matter where she looked or turned to, Jack Dawson was always there. She needed to go back home. Be freed.

"Why on earth are you here in the first place?" He asked, clearly annoyed by the situation.

She remained silent and clenched the piece of cloth tighter to her skin. "Is it that hard to answer my question?"

"No." She mumbled, "I simply couldn't sleep and I was thirsty."

"So you go all the way to the kitchen in the middle of the night?"

"That's what someone does when thirsty, is it not?"

"You have a maid for that."

"My god," Rose snorted, "are you really this delusional? I am not going to wake up my maid in the middle of the night when I want something to drink. She works hard enough already. Perhaps if I had no arms and legs I'd consider it." Then she wiggled all her limbs at the same time, "But see. Everything is still attached. And why are you here?"

I followed you, but it was impossible to admit. Clearing his throat, he casually faced her. "I couldn't sleep and I was thirsty."

There was no answer.

Jack suddenly dared to move closer and leaned his back against the counter. "You quite had me today, with your cowboy like way of riding."

"It's much better for you than most people think. You have way more stability than with a sidesaddle and it gives you such freedom. You should try it, Mr. Dawson."

He actually laughed, a sound which she did not recognise from him.

"How is your horse doing actually?"

"Fine for now. The stableboy is taking care of her, but I have to call for the vet in the morning."

"Poor thing." Rose mumbled, "We used to have a horse when I was younger. Albert was his name. He was already quite old so they put a bullet through his head when he got lame. I was seven."

"Sometimes that is the only way to get them out of their misery."

Perhaps, also for humans, death is the only way to get out of any form of misery. It was the ultimate end for everyone and everything. She allowed her eyes to move up at him. " ?" She asked.

"Yes?"

"I must get something off my chest… I still do not see why you wish to marry my sister, but I can see that she cares deeply for you. I see it in the way she looks at you and speaks of you. "

Jack's body froze and he scratched the back of his neck. "I- why do you care about your sister's feelings so much?"

"Because she is my sister. Because we share the same flesh and blood and I can sense all of her emotions."

"Does she sense your emotions, miss DeWitt Bukater?"

"No one senses my emotions, Mr. Dawson."

He believed he could. Or he wanted to be able to.

"You know, miss. I've been to that place many times in the past. I had a girl there. But that time you saw me walk in, it wasn't what you thought it was. I only came to tell her that my visits were over. I care about your sister, truly."

"But simply caring is not enough, Mr. Dawson. What about all those things you said at that dinner table? You aren't a man for marriage or any form of commitment, wasn't that what you said? Bed her as fast as possible? Those are horrible things!"

He nodded his head, "I believe you are right, miss, but.."

"Please, don't break her heart." The tone of her voice sounded as if the girl was in a state of misery, almost begging for her life.

"Miss…"

"You have to promise me, Mr. Dawson. Promise me that you'll not hurt her feelings. Please promise me that if you decide to marry my sister, it is only out of pure admiration for her and not as some form of business proposition everyone has been gossiping about."

Without a second thought, Jack nodded his head heavily. "I promise, miss. I promise."

Rose removed her the fabric from her hand and inspected the damage. Luckily, it had stopped bleeding, but the wound remained stinging. She could hear his breathing, slow and steady like a calming rhythm. She was starting to grow tired again and her thirst had faded completely. She knew sleep would do her good, yet why did she want to stay in this exact spot? "I am going to bed now."

"All right." He whispered.

"All right."

Silence.

"Good night, Mr. Dawson.

Lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I finally included a bit more interaction between Jack and Rose that wasn't all full of hatred haha. And of course thank you all so much for the nice reviews, it really keeps me motivated and inspired to continue this story xoxo