— ⋆ ❖ ː ❛ Truthfully, Rose hadn't approved of Lucy's plan in the first place. Turning her into someone who was supposedly "irresistible"? It was an impossible feat, not to mention a silly idea. Ashworth was not interested in her by any means, she was sure. Even if he found her slightly more agreeable because she painted her face up, it would in no way sway his mind to let her stay. Ashworth was a mostly steadfast gentleman—if he could be called as such—who would not be persuaded to change his mind over the attractions of a woman. And she wasn't even attractive. She was the last woman who could possibly sway his intentions.

But Rose most certainly hadn't expected him to apologize and behave the way he did at the breakfast table. He hadn't seemed… interested in her, the way Lucy kept insisting. But there was certainly something different, a lighter and more humble air about him she never could have imagined possible.

"I told you it'd work, dearie."

Rose ran the pretty golden brush through her hair. She slouched on the vanity seat. "I really don't believe the cosmetics alone changed his entire demeanor, Lucy."

"Oh, nonsense! Those dinky little things work wonders. What else could've been so influential?

"Perhaps he was overcompensating at his attempt to be a gentleman."

"That could be it. But I don't think 'e would've apologized and changed 'is entire personality for just anybody. He changed it for you, apologized for your sake."

"But why he would do that, is something I cannot comprehend."

"That's what I been tryin' to tell ya! The Master can't turn down such an exquisite lady as yourself!"

Rose gave Lucy a side-eyed glance. She laid the brush down at her vanity. "I'm just… positively embarrassed. I should have never shown myself to him like that." She buried her face in her hands, flushing redder than the rouge that had coated her cheeks.

"Why not?" Lucy came up behind Rose.

"It was so… improper. Uncalled for."

"Most all ladies do it, Miss Bourne. I know it's frowned upon by some, but that's why I put on just enough to accentuate your lovely features without being too loud and noticeable."

"But it was loud and noticeable, Lucy. Don't you see? I don't want to be noticed!"

Lucy backed up at the girl's sudden snap.

Rose immediately hung her head. "I'm sorry, Lucy," she wrung her hands together, "I suppose this topic is just sensitive for me."

Lucy came around to Rose's side, and the girl turned her head. The older woman made eye contact and studied Rose's icy blue eyes, searching for an answer.

"Miss Bourne, is there another reason why you don't wanna be noticed?"

Rose faltered, her eyes shaking under Lucy's steady gaze and thorough searching. She broke eye contact and down went her head once more.

"No."

Lucy sighed. "Well, if you ever wanna chat, jus' know ole Lucy's always 'ere to listen."

"Thank you, my dear friend. I don't know what I'd do without you. No one's ever taken the time to listen to me before…" As soon as Rose spoke those last words, she immediately regretted them, wincing at how Lucy might respond.

"Really?! I assumed your family…? Did they not ever…?"

Rose shook her head. "Only Father, sometimes. Most of the time, our chats weren't necessarily about me, but always somehow revolved back around to him or the family as a whole. It never genuinely felt about me… But I knew he cared. He just didn't always have the time to take the time to listen to me."

"What about your sisters?"

"They especially did not listen to me." Rose stifled a laugh.

"I'm dreadfully sorry to 'ear about that, Miss Bourne. But— I 'ope in some small way, my bein' 'ere 'as 'elped."

Rose patted Lucy's hand. "It has, more than you know."

"I'm glad." Lucy smiled, then sighed, looking off into the distance. "When I saw the postin' for this position in London, I wasn't sure what to expect. I 'oped my lady weren't too spoilt, and still knew 'ow to act the way a lady should. I came to the castle to be interviewed, and what a shock it was to find out about the Master! I almost got up and left! But everyone was so kind and dear, and—" she leaned in to whisper, "it was the best payin' job I've ever been offered—I 'ad no choice but to accept." She paused, frowning. "When I first met Miss Newall—you know, the Master's ole fiancée—I gritted and bared my teeth tryin' ta put up with 'er. She was so spoilt and headstrong and just did not know 'ow to act. I thought after she went up outta 'ere, I'd just pack my bags and make my way back to London, lookin' for another line o' work. But then…" Lucy grinned at Rose, "I got another chance. And she's turned out ta be the best lady I've ever tended to."

Rose smiled. "Aww… Lucy, that's so sweet of you."

"And I mean it. You're not spoilt rotten the way so many others are. Now, you could be a little more forthcomin', but I believe that will come in time as you age."

Rose's smile fell a little. Forthcoming. Was that her problem? She was not forthcoming enough?

Lucy suddenly piped up. "Nevertheless, we've got lots to do today. Got to prepare for your family's visit. And I 'ear rumors about the castle that the Master wants to see you again before their arrival." She winked and arched her thin brows into a smirk, before exiting the room. "I'll be back soon, dearie!" her voice echoed from the halls.

Rose winced and bit her bottom lip. She was not fond of the way Lucy acted as though Ashworth was still planning on courting her. Not after their altercation in the gardens that night… And especially not after she had embarrassed herself in front of him with pounds and pounds of caked cosmetics on her face.

"My daughter will not wear those things. She has no business toying with such improprieties."

The girl whispered, without realizing it: "Mother…"

Mother. The word hurt in a way that no other words did. It felt like a bite from an animal. The initial impact, the bite itself, was quick, over within a second. But the wound remained—it bled, got infected, festered, scabbed over, and left a scar that remained forever. The pain dulled over time, but the wound never fully healed.

◜❦︎◞

Sure enough, Lucy was right.

Not long after Rose finished breakfast, a young maid knocked on her door, announcing that Lord Ashworth wished to see her in one of the castle's gathering rooms.

Rose's coloring left her face and the world drew in close, everything around her thinning. Why did he want to see her? She knew that he wasn't going to banish her from the castle, but she also knew they were still not on the best of terms. At least, to her, she felt they still had not resolved their conflict, but merely put it aside for the moment.

Upon hearing the news, Lucy was as joyous and giddy as a child receiving a puppy for Christmas.

"Oh, we gotta put you in the most elegant day dress! Let me see what we 'ave!" Lucy shuffled through the drawers and wardrobe excitedly, then laid out several gowns, all of which could've been evening gowns save for the way they were cut at the top.

"I appreciate the help, Lucy, but I really would rather wear something simple."

"But are you sure? The Master couldn't take 'is eyes off you—"

"Lucy." Rose gave her a look.

"Fine." The woman went back to the dresser drawers, then pointed her finger. "But you'll 'ave to compensate for it by wearin' the best, most extravagant evenin' gown later."

"Deal."

Lucy picked out a much simpler outfit: a lovely little pale lilac gown that didn't have hardly any trimmings at all. It didn't fit Rose exactly as she would have wanted, as it was a bit tight, but she wore it anyway.

"We'll have to get you fitted and measured for some custom gowns, dearie," Lucy said while smoothing the ruffles out. "We're runnin' out of ones that fit."

"Wouldn't that be rather costly?"

"Nothin' the Master can't take care of."

Rose flushed. "He'd pay for a new wardrobe, for me?"

"But of course," Lucy insisted. "It's no trouble at all for 'im. All 'e'd ask in return is to oversee the designs of one or two of 'em."

Rose's head fell. "I can't imagine he'd want anything to do with the designs of the gowns."

"You'd be surprised."

Well, if there was one thing Rose knew about Lord Ashworth, it was that he was full of surprises.

Lucy and Rose made their way out of the room and into the castle's vast hallways.

"Did the girl say which one of the gatherin' rooms it was?" Lucy asked.

"Not at all."

"Well, we're both newcomers to the castle. I'm ashamed to say it, but I don't know where everythin' is myself."

"Lucy, I'm surprised at you," Rose teased.

"I know, it's just awful—"

She cut off suddenly.

"You 'ear that?"

Rose stopped in her tracks, pausing to listen. There was indeed the faintest sound, like someone humming far, far away.

"Let's go check it out." Lucy practically ran in the direction of the echoes, lifting her skirts.

"Lucy. Lucy!" Rose was amazed at the woman's youthfulness. She wasn't old by any means, but she could act so like a child at times. It was something Rose admired about her. "Slow down!" The girl took off, trailing behind the middle-aged woman.

As they closed in on the sound, the echoes turned from faint hums to fully fleshed-out notes. Rose's senses were suddenly overwhelmed by color. A deep bluish-purple—the hue of early night, right after the sun was set. The color was all she could see, perceive, and think about. The white marble hallways of the castle turned blue and purple; it was almost like what she imagined an enchanting fairytale evening to look like.

"Rose!" Lucy whisper-yelled.

The young woman snapped out of her trance. Lucy was quite a ways away, poking her head around a corridor, with an impatient, insistent look upon her wrinkled face.

"Coming!" Rose picked up her skirts and trotted along. The music continued to play. The colors were everywhere. She found it rather difficult to not get caught up in their magic spell.

Rose cramped up next to Lucy and both peered at a room farther on down the hallway. The door was open, and light, and music, spilled out of it, painting the floor and walls.

"That is one o' the gatherin' rooms, I remember now."

"But surely that's not him playing."

Lucy shrugged. "I was told 'e 'ad many talents."

"So was I, but— I thought they were just part of a ploy to get me to marry him."

And then, the music ended, and the colors dissipated into the air—nothing more than a memory. Rose and Lucy looked at one another, biting their lips in hesitation. Just as Rose was about to suggest they turn back, his booming voice rattled the air around her:

"Ah! I see my little experiment went accordingly."

Lord Ashworth, impossibly tall and imposing in his all-black garb, exited the gathering room. He faced Rose and Lucy, then bowed. The women followed his gesture with curtsies.

"'Experiment', Your Lordship?" Rose queried.

"Yes, yes, come in and I'll enlighten you."

Rose tiptoed nearer. It seemed that every time they met, he was somehow even larger and more unreal than she had remembered. Her head spun as she tried to take in his entire form—to try to comprehend all that he was. She closed her eyes as she shifted past him into the gathering room.

It was not silvery, as the other gathering room had been. In fact, it was not in fashion with the rest of the castle's design at all. The room was mostly mauve, as well as other shades of red, purple, and deep pink. The drapes and furniture were adorned with all sorts of intricate flowery designs. It reminded Rose of her manor when it was in its prime. There was a kind of messiness and over-decorative quality about the room that meant only one thing: home. This room had been lived in.

She was so taken away by the decorations that Rose hardly noticed the grand piano at the far side of the room. She gasped as her eyes fell upon it, and him. Lord Ashworth leaned against the magnificent instrument while he observed her.

"I was trying to see if you would be able to find me on your own. I thought I might lure you in with this." He patted the top of it.

"So it was you playing," Rose said, astonished.

"Of course it was me. Who else could it have been?" He seemed almost offended.

Rose hesitated, looking down. "I suppose I don't understand how you can play…" She glanced up for just a second, catching a glimpse of his bulky paws. He did not have his gloves on.

"Precisely why I wanted you here. To show you how it's done."

Rose smiled slightly. "I suppose I'm not the first to be suspicious."

"Not in the slightest."

He turned around, swept back his cloak and cape, and sat on the bench. It croaked under his weight. He looked rather silly in her opinion. Most pianists were long and lithe, with dextrous and somewhat feminine hands. He did not fit the image in her mind.

"Do you play?" he crooned, his dark voice dotted with an air of light mischief.

Rose felt her mouth run dry as the blood left her cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I presume that means yes." Lord Ashworth laughed, a deep rumble building up inside of him. Rose would never have thought that laughter could be monstrous, almost growl-like. "Don't fret. I won't make you play if you don't want."

The young woman breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"At least for today. I cannot promise what I might do in the future."

"You really are an imp." She giggled, then immediately broke her smile, afraid of seeming coy.

"It would not be the first time I've been compared to a daemon."

Rose cringed. Was he offended by her calling him as such? Or was he playing along with her? If only she could remove his veil for a moment… No, if only he were human—with human expressions she could easily read. Then there would be no need for a veil.

The thought drifted through her mind for but a second: If he were human, would they already be husband and wife? No. He would be married to some countess, not the daughter of a merchant. She shook the thoughts away.

"Now then," he declared, "allow me to showcase what I've summoned you here for."

"Oh, yes, of course." Rose backed up, stumbling over the nearest chair before sitting down.

Her eyes were glued to his paws. He stretched them out over the keys, and she noticed as he retracted his claws.

The colors returned as soon as he began playing. The white keys turned purple and blue, like a pristine river reflecting the dying sunset. Rose could hardly focus on what the song sounded like, for the colors were too overwhelming. The colors were the sound, were the song. It was how she experienced music.

And then, her eyes moved from the keys and his paws to the rest of Lord Ashworth's body. It was enshrouded by the veil of course, but the veil didn't appear black anymore. It was the deep blue-purple of everything else. Iridescent, like the wings of a jewel-toned butterfly. He moved back and forth, swaying with the swells of the music. He shimmered like evening stars. In a way, he was quite dazzling. Rose was mesmerized.

The song soon came to a close, ending on a rather ominous chord. The sound dissipated, and the world came back into view.

Rose clapped. "Bravo! That was marvelous, Your Lordship!"

Lord Ashworth turned to face her, and the endless black of the veil sucked her in. For a moment, the memory of his monstrous, snarling features flashed before her eyes. She turned away, ceasing to clap. Rose cleared her throat and tucked a curly strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, did the music cause your senses to flare up?"

Rose's shoulders tensed. She practically shot up out of her seat.

Lord Ashworth's low rumble of a laugh broke out through his veil, and the vibrations made her spine tingle.

"My little experiment was a success then," he gloated.

"How did you—"

He cut her off: "In the mind, language and music are connected in some way, shape, or form; which is why those who are musically inclined may also have a natural inclination toward language and storytelling as well. As I was pondering over your abilities, I wondered if perhaps your senses would also flare up if exposed to music."

Rose sat in astonishment, her mouth gaping wide open. She was positively at a loss for words. Blinking a few times, she gathered her thoughts, before speaking: "You know, you could've just asked me."

"Yes, but what's the fun in that?" he grumbled playfully. "Now tell me, what did you experience while hearing me play?"

"Well," Rose pondered, "everything turned blue, and purple. Even yo—" She blushed deeply, remembering how magnificent and dazzling he had been. "Just everything. The room, the piano keys… They all turned a different color."

He leaned nearer to her, the bench creaking. "Fascinating."

His voice caused her to shiver. It was so charged with electricity. She could feel the intense curiosity emanating off of him, and it intimidated her. No one had ever been this intrigued by her or her condition before.

"Is there anything else besides names, certain words, and music, that cause this little phenomenon?"

Rose furrowed her thin, strawberry brows. "I would say that certainly, those are the most common causes. But…" she remembered back to the heat of the fireplace of her childhood home, "sometimes when I feel a physical sensation, like heat, it can cause other senses to flare up. I've had it happen before where, if I'm exceedingly warm or cold, I'll begin to hear certain things."

"Like what?"

"Well, I'm not sure how to describe them without sounding mad." Rose giggled.

"No, no, don't think that at all. Pray continue."

"Well, they sound like voices sometimes… Little ones that I can't really make out what they're saying. And then, too, many times, when I'm reading, I can feel what the person in the story is feeling. The words on the page… they are alive in a way for me. I feel the words deeply. Each word I read has a smell, a feel, a sound, a voice."

Lord Ashworth seemed to almost fall off the bench with enthusiasm. "Extraordinary."

Rose smiled and blushed, looking away. "I suppose it is, isn't it? If you don't think me positively mad."

"Not at all. Tell me, does it ever become overwhelming for you?"

She sank in her chair a little. "At times, yes. But not for the reasons you might think. I… feel things very deeply. If you must know, I believe this is one of the reasons I'm so sensitive." She stroked her hair bashfully.

"Yes, that is—" Lord Ashworth broke off mid-sentence. "Well, that is one of the things I have noticed about you."

There was a noticeable shift in his demeanor. As though his fascination with her had fully gone away and was replaced with a judgment of her character.

Rose knew that she was sensitive and rabbit-hearted… and that he was not. Lord Ashworth likely did not want an acquaintance who was as faint of heart as she, but… he kept talking to her. He kept asking questions. If her rare and unique condition was the sole reason for his interest in her, then she would continue to be his little experiment. Whatever kept her in his company, whatever kept her in the castle where she was treated with dignity and respect, whatever kept her family out of debt.

And, she did enjoy his company. Even if he now and then caused her heart to skip a beat with his sudden erratic movements and sounds—not to mention his general enormity—she liked being with him. He made her feel as though she were not just a simple-minded, foolish-hearted girl, but someone who had a gift and who experienced the world differently from anyone he had ever met before. No one had ever made her feel so special before. She decided then and there to try to keep his interest as long as she could. One day she knew she would have to leave the enchanting castle and its eccentric master, but today was not that day.

"You know, Miss Bourne, while we may not experience the world in the same way, I do believe there are some commonalities in our perceptions."

"Really!? How so?"

"I also feel deeper sensations than most, due to my—well, condition."

"Oh…" Rose's excitement faltered. But she did not want to seem rude. "Pray tell me more."

"My sense of smell is especially developed. I can smell nearly everything from miles around if the wind brings the scent my way. And, I can even sometimes smell or sense what someone else is feeling."

Rose tensed. She thought she might faint.

"So you can…?"

"Sense your discomfort? Yes."

"Oh, Lord Ashworth, I—" Her face turned bloodred. She raised her hands to her cheeks; they were as hot as the heat from fireplaces.

"It is alright. As you said, you are a deeply sensitive person."

"Yes, but— Oh, please do not think that I am not wanting to be in your presence. I get so nervous because, well, because…"

Rose heard Lucy breathe in deeply from across the room. The room began to turn a bright red. Her senses bled into each other.

"Go on." Lord Ashworth rested his arm across his knee.

"Well, I'm not quite sure." Her heart raced against her chest. "I just am afraid that…" And then the truth came to her. She bowed her head. "I am deeply afraid that you will dismiss me from the castle."

Lord Ashworth seemed taken aback. He even leaned backward. "Why on earth would you think a thing such as that?"

"Well, it's just… ever since that night in the gardens, I feel as though I've been fighting for my chance to remain here. I thought I had offended you so, and that you did not want me here anymore. I suppose I know deep down that I will not be dismissed, but that does not mean that my presence is wanted. You could be doing all of this just to be hospitable…." she trailed off, fearing she had said too much, off down a rabbit trail of thought.

Lord Ashworth remained silent for a moment. Rose just stared at her hands in her lap.

"Miss Bourne," his voice rumbled throughout the small room, "I do want you here."

A flood of relief washed over her body. She untensed her shoulders, but still had not the confidence to look up at him.

"I thought that I had already made that clear enough in our last audience."

"Oh, yes, you did, Your Lordship! It's just— My anxious mind. It tells me things that are not true."

"I see." He nodded. "Well, I will make it very clear and plain. While you did offend me… I also—misbehaved, for lack of a better word. I should have told you beforehand how I feel about myself and how I expect to be treated. I should not have expected you to know and understand fully just because of our mutual cordiality."

"Of course," Rose said. "I know now that it is a sensitive topic for you, and I respect that wholly and sincerely, Your Lordship." She bowed her head. "I do not wish to displease you in any way."

"And I do not wish to displease you either, Miss Bourne," he said, unexpectedly.

Rose smiled lightly. "Our situation is quite… awkward, is it not?" She stifled a small laugh.

"I suppose it may seem that way, but what others may find awkward about a certain situation, I do not find particularly worth caring about. Our potential engagement never meant anything to me."

Rose's heart dropped. His words were a deep blow to her entire being. But why? Had she not known all along that the engagement meant nothing to him? Perhaps it was just harder to hear the truth aloud.

"That does not mean I find our current acquaintanceship meaningless, however," he admitted. "There is still much I wish to learn about you and your condition."

"Yes, likewise." Rose deeply regretted the words after they exited her lips. A part of her did want to know more about his condition but… another part of her just wanted him to remain concealed. The illusion of being human.

"Truly?" he questioned, sounding skeptical. "You would care to know more about what I am?"

Rose bit her tongue. She had to say something. "Y-yes. I would like to know more. I've— never met anyone like you." It was mostly a lie, but if it kept her in the castle longer, then so be it.

"Very well then. All in due time."

"Yes, in time." Rose nodded, relieved that she would have more time both to get used to Ashworth and to stay in the castle.

"For now, I hope that your family's visiting will now at least provide some comfort to your sensitive nature."

Her family. She had forgotten all about them.

"Oh, yes. I think that their visit will make me feel much more comfortable here. I've missed them so."

Ashworth tilted his head to the side. "You do wish to stay here, yes? You may return home to your family at any time, you understand?"

"Yes, I understand. But I do want to stay here, Your Lordship. It's just— All I've ever known is the home I've lived in my whole life, with my family I've lived with my whole life. This new environment is just… a bit overwhelming—"

"Due to your sensitive disposition?"

Rose recognized the slightest bit of a demeaning tone in his deep, rattly voice. She was ashamed to say so but, "Yes."

"I see." He leaned back to face the piano. "Well, then, we'll do what we can to make your stay as comfortable as possible in the meantime." He struck a happy chord and the room turned a bright, vivid yellow. "How does that sound?"

Rose grinned. "Wonderful."