Chapter 11 – Rosalie - Marriage

After saying goodbye to Mother I closed the door behind me with a sigh. During the visit I had tried to raise the subject of Royce and some of the things he had done during the honeymoon, but Mother had adroitly changed the subject and I realised that she didn't want to know. Whatever troubles I might have in my marriage, Mother was not going to be the one to help me.

McCarty was sitting sideways in the driver's seat of the car, his long legs outside as he fiddled with something in his hands. My footsteps must have been almost silent, for when I was almost up to him and asked him what he was doing he jumped, narrowly missing bashing his head against the roof of the car.

"Shit! Damnit…I mean, sorry ma'am." He rose to his feet looking embarrassed, and I tried not to smile.

I was tall for a girl, but he still towered over me and had to be at least twice as broad. For the first time I really looked at him, and I liked what I saw. He had a mop of dark curly hair and eyes that were as blue as the sky. His face was honest, and his full lipped smile gentle, and for a moment I thought that even though he was my driver, maybe he could be my friend too.

I dropped my eyes and noticed the blood dripping from his thumb. He had a knife and a small, rough carved wooden horse in one hand, and I surmised that he must have caught himself with the knife when I surprised him. I reached for it. "Let me see."

"No, no, it's fine!" Looking terribly embarrassed he sucked at his thumb for a minute, but when he took it out of his mouth the blood immediately welled up.

"Don't be an idiot. You've hurt yourself. Let me fix it." For a minute I was ashamed of my very unladylike words, but as I pulled out my handkerchief he held his hand towards me. I curved my fingers around his large hand and examined the cut on his hand. It was deep but small, and I wrapped my handkerchief around it and tied it tightly. "That should do it."

"Thank you ma'am," McCarty murmured, hunching his shoulders a little awkwardly. "I'm fine though ma'am, truly…let me take you home."

For a second I looked at him, at the blue eyes and soft lips and felt an absurd desire to touch him. Feeling an immediate stab of guilt I stepped hastily away and then ducked into the car. "Of course. Thank you, McCarty."

Royce came home from his first day at the office in a bad mood. I had been in our room, styling my hair, and by the time I realised he was home and ran downstairs, he was in the sitting room.

"Where the hell were you?" He glared at me as he poured himself a Scotch.

"I was upstairs," I replied, nettled by his tone.

"Well, it would be nice if you came down and greeted me and got me a drink when I get home," Royce snarled.

I bit my lip to hold back an angry retort. That would help nothing. Instead I went across to him and stroked a hand across his chest, standing up on tiptoes to press my lips against his. "I didn't hear the car," I said apologetically.

Royce pulled me against him and kissed me hard. "I forgive you. I'm just cranky because going to work in the office is such a hideous bore and Father is insistent that I go in every day. Apparently I need to be responsible now that I'm a married man." He rolled his eyes and I giggled.

"You don't know how to be responsible!"

Royce's eyes gleamed as he laughed, and I was glad he had forgotten his annoyance. "Oh, I know how! I just choose to have fun instead!"

"Let's have some fun," I said, anxious to have a pleasant evening. "Let's put on the record player and we can dance."

"Okay Princess," Royce laughed, "Whatever you want."

But things were not always whatever I wanted. As the first weeks of my marriage turned into a month, and then two, I struggled to adjust to what was required of me.

Some parts of my marriage were easy. The house practically ran itself; Miss Ellen, our housekeeper, was so brisk and efficient that there was very little for me to do there. We entertained frequently, which I loved. I loved having friends around, and getting dressed up, and going out dancing afterwards, I loved the admiring and envious looks of the other girls, and the sly looks of desire from the men. I loved having the money for the best clothes and shoes. Royce even bought me three fur coats, a mink, a red fox, and a white angora rabbit fur that looked spectacular with my golden hair and make everyone stare.

Some parts of my marriage were difficult. Mother had always kept me busy, but left to my own devices I sometimes struggled to know what to do to fill in the day. I spent a lot of time shopping and, although I loved all the beautiful things I bought, eventually even shopping with a limitless amount of money loses a little of its lustre. I saw my friends as often as I could, but they didn't move in the same social circle that Royce had pulled me into and we gradually had less and less in common. Vera remained a steady friend, but baby Henry was unlucky enough to suffer a bad case of measles, and Vera insisted I stay away in case I should catch it. Aware that I could be pregnant at any time, I obeyed her order, but I missed her and there were some lonely days.

And some parts of my marriage were terrible.

"We're going home."

Royce grabbed my arm and I looked up in surprise. We were out at a club and I had been dancing with some of the other girls that his friends had brought along. Some of them I knew as they'd been out with us before, others were new. I was the only wife, which I sometimes thought was peculiar, but most of the girls were bright and friendly and eager to have fun.

"But it's still early," I pouted.

Royce didn't smile. "I don't care. Get your coat."

Annoyed at being treated like a child, I still worked my way across the room and collected my coat from the coatroom. Before I could even put it on Royce had seized my arm again, his fingers digging hard into my flesh, and was almost dragging me outside.

"Royce!" I jerked backwards, but pulling against his grip only hurt more and I grabbed at his fingers. "Stop it!"

"Just get in the fucking car," he growled, looking around for McCarty.

The car drew up and McCarty came and opened the door, his face expressionless. Embarrassed to be seen quarrelling with my husband, I didn't say a word as Royce shoved me into the car and slammed himself in beside me.

"Jesus Rosalie! Could you be anymore obvious?"

"What?" I squirmed along the seat so I was further away from him.

"Dancing like that, making everyone look at you…" Royce's voice was slurred, and I wondered how much he'd had to drink.

"It's a club," I snapped. "People go there to dance. What else would you have me do?"

"Not go showing it all off like a whore?" Royce muttered.

In the front seat McCarty's shoulders stiffened.

"Let's talk about this at home," I said hastily. Royce's eyes on me remained dark and unfriendly as he fell into a brooding silence, but I was glad that at least he didn't say anything else. McCarty was good natured and friendly, but I suspected he could be quite protective and I did not want to see him go up against Royce because he thought he was out of line.

When we got home Royce didn't wait for me, instead storming up to the house and slamming the door behind him. For a moment I sat in the car, dreading what might come next.

"Miss Rosalie?"

I looked up in surprise. It was McCarty, holding out his hand and looking concerned. All I could of was that it was the first time I'd ever heard him say my name, and I loved the way it sounded on his lips.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he said quietly. "That was a little…" His voice trailed away, and I realised how awkward his position was.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to sound unconcerned. "He's just had a little too much to drink, that's all. He'll sleep it off and be no worse off in the morning."

"Hmm." McCarty looked unconvinced. "Well, if you need me you know where I am." Suddenly he blushed, and ran a hand through his curls. "I'm sorry if I overstepped ma'am. I just wouldn't want to see you upset, that's all."

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. Somehow, in the middle of my messy marriage, I'd found a friend in this slow talking southern man. "Thank you," I said quietly, and then I left him and went inside.

I was relieved to see that Royce had gone upstairs to our bedroom. I took off my shoes by the front door and padded silently through the kitchen, where I slowly drank a glass of water, hoping if I gave him a little time Royce would just pass out.

Instead I heard him shouting for me, and not wanting to wake Miss Ellen and get the help involved, I went quickly up the stairs. In the bedroom Royce was sprawled in a chair, half undressed and with at least four fingers of whisky still in the glass in his hand.

He took another swallow and glared at me. "Are you avoiding me now? You'd better not be."

"I'm not avoiding you," I said softly, trying to placate him. "I was just getting some water. You should have some too…do you want me to pour you a glass?"

"No," Royce said rudely. "And don't pretend you're all sweet and innocent now, not after what you've been doing tonight."

"Fine!" I snapped, no longer willing to even try to coax him out of his mood. "But I wasn't doing anything tonight."

"That's a load of shit Rosalie, and you know it! Wearing some slut dress and dancing like…"

"You bought me this dress!" I shouted furiously. "If I was dressed like a slut it was because you wanted me to be!"

"Take it off," Royce said, his voice deadly quiet now.

"No. I won't."

"I said to take it off!" Royce lunged at me, grabbing the neckline of the dress and tearing it straight down the front.

I stared at him in shock. "You ruined my dress!"

"Good." Royce went back to his glass, tossing back the remaining whisky in one gulp. "You don't need it anyway. Get the rest of it off."

"Go to hell." I turned my back on him and went to the dresser for a nightgown, furious at Royce for his behaviour. We weren't always very nice to each other, but he'd never called me a whore before, and he'd certainly never done anything like ruin my clothes.

"If I'm going to hell I'm taking you with me bitch." Royce spoke from right behind me and I jumped, but he wrapped his hands around my upper arms and shoved me with all his strength. I was flung onto the bed and the breath knocked out of me, but even so I tried to scramble away, too late. Royce grabbed my ankle and twisted it, and I gave in to the inevitable.

"Rosalie, wake up."

"Mmmm," I mumbled, rolling over.

"Come on honey, I've got some breakfast for you."

I opened my eyes and saw Royce, already up and dressed, smiling down at me. He hadn't put oil in his hair yet, and it flopped down over his eyes as he grinned endearingly. "Good morning."

I sat up. "I want my robe."

Royce fetched it without a murmur, and I wrapped it around myself as I settled the pillows more comfortably behind me. I stared at him, my face stony.

"Aww honey, don't be mad." Royce put the breakfast tray down over my legs and sat on the edge of the bed.

"After last night?" I scowled.

Royce held up his hands in surrender. "I know, I was an ass…but I was really drunk, that's all. And McCarty got us home all right, so no harm done."

I froze, staring at him suspiciously. Was it possible that he didn't remember? That everything that had happened in this room last night was just wiped from his memory.

"You don't remember anything?" I said slowly.

Royce blinked at me innocently. "I remember mouthing off to you in the car, and I'm so sorry about that. But I don't remember anything much at all after that." He brushed some tangled hair off my face. "Why? Did something happen?"

I paused. Something DID happen…but I don't want it to be true. No one treats me like that. Especially not my husband. If he doesn't remember, and I don't think about it, then no one will ever know.

"No," I said at last, taking a tiny sip of the freshly squeezed juice. "Nothing happened."

"I'm really sorry I was such an ass." Royce went down on to his knees at the side of the bed and looked at me imploringly. "I know I said some things that were not so nice…but you just make me so mad sometimes! I love you, and I want you all to myself and I get so jealous when you're out there and all the fellows are looking. You're mine."

"I am yours," I agreed, although the rebellious part of me nearly choked on the words. I don't belong to anyone but myself! "I don't want anyone else, truly I don't. You must know that! I can't help it if people look…it doesn't mean anything."

People had been looking all my life. I couldn't imagine a world where eyes of desire, of envy and longing, didn't follow me as I walked down the street. For good or ill, being beautiful had shaped my whole sense of self. But even though people looked, and even though I liked that approbation, it would never impact my commitment to Royce and our marriage.

Royce kissed me tenderly. "This is really good, you and I, isn't it?" he whispered against my lips.

I kissed him back so that I didn't have to answer.

A/N – okay, another horrible chapter for Rosalie, I'm sorry! All I can say is that she will get out of this abusive relationship.

It's clear by this point that Royce is not exactly the handsome prince Rosalie thought she was getting and this is not exactly the fairytale that she dreamed of. He's says some cruel things, he's rude and careless with her feelings, even though he's not actually hitting her he can be very rough, and he's using sex as a weapon to hurt and control her with. In other words- classic abusive husband.

As for why Rosalie doesn't do anything about it, there are a few things going on with her. Firstly, she's pretty deep in denial. She WANTS the fairytale, she wants this marriage to be what it looks like from the outside, and she's used to getting what she wants. Rosalie is also really naïve about adult relationships, Royce has undermined her confidence enough that she thinks some of the things going wrong are her fault and she is trying to do what he wants. Also, the marriage isn't terrible 100% of the time. Royce can be kind and funny and charming, there are lots of gifts and times when they do have fun. It's also the 1930s, and if Rosalie wanted to leave, she doesn't have a lot of options as to where to go. Back to her parents, who would probably encourage her to go right back to her husband? Run away with no money, no skills, and no contacts? In a lot of ways Rosalie is stuck right where she is, caught up firmly in Royce's web.

At least she's starting to see Emmett though! Right?