Chapter 37 – Rosalie –Royce

I woke in the morning when Jem began making fussy noises from what had been my own baby cradle, brought down from the attic by Emmett the previous day. I stretched, luxuriating in the feather bed and beautiful linens, and then scooped up the baby and brought him back to bed with me for his morning feed.

It felt strange to be back in my girlhood bedroom. So much had changed since I last slept here, the night before my wedding. I remembered how naïve and hopeful I had been and sighed. There had been so many hard lessons since then!

Jem drank himself into a stupor and went right back to sleep when I put him in the cradle. With a gleeful little skip of my heart I ran a deep, hot bath and, with the door cracked so I could hear the baby if he woke, I sank into it with a little moan of delight. Oh, I had missed this! I stretched my legs out, and then leisurely washed my hair, loving the luxury of soaking in the big, claw foot tub.

Eventually the water had cooled too much, and I reluctantly got out and dried myself off, dressing quickly in the bathroom and then hurrying back to the bedroom where I could hear Jem.

He wasn't upset though. He was babbling in Emmett's arms, the two of them over by the window, looking at the big oak tree that grew right outside.

"Hello!" I said brightly.

Emmett turned to me with a subdued smile. "Hey Rosa-girl."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You'll have to see what your Ma has for you downstairs," he said, avoiding the question. "She was out at first light and just got home. She's been shopping." He kissed Jem's spiky head. "No more homemade dresses for this little one, I guess."

Before I could say anything, Mother came bustling in with her hands full. "Rosalie darling, I did a quick bit of shopping this morning. Just the essentials, you know, some lovely baby things from the department store for James. I bought you some dresses too, your things are dreadfully worn. They're quite disgraceful." Without waiting for me to even say anything she thrust a dress box into my hands and snatched Jem from Emmett and sailed back out the door.

I slowly opened the box and saw two pretty, floral dresses. I drew one out, and then tossed them both onto the bed and went to stand beside Emmett, who was now staring out the window.

"What is it?" I said softly, leaning against his arm.

"I didn't think it would be so hard to see you here, where you belong. With all this luxury…" Emmett's voice cracked. "Your parents have bought more for you and Jem this morning than I've been able to give you in months. You deserve so much better than what I can give you."

"Emmett." I wrapped my arms around him and pressed myself against his chest listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. "How many times do I have to tell you? I don't want any of that more than I want you."

Emmett tipped up my face so that I was looking straight into his sky-blue eyes that for once bore no hint of humour. "I love you. But I want you to be sure, Rosa-girl."

"I am very, very sure." I kissed him lightly. "I'll admit, I enjoyed my bath this morning and I'm going to wear that very pretty new dress that my mother bought me! But it doesn't matter to me the way it used to. And even though we've only been gone a few days I already miss your family, and I can't wait until it's just you and Jem and I down at the river."

Emmett laughed suddenly, and swung me up in his arms, kissing me until I was breathless. "Beautiful girl, I love you so much! And I promise that when I make some money, the very first thing I'm going to do is build you a bathroom to go with your bedroom!"

Mother certainly had bought more clothes for Jem in one quick shopping trip than I had been able to sew for him in the months before he was born. When I went downstairs I found him looking quite unlike himself in a white lawn baby dress trimmed with blue ribbons and a matching bonnet, lying propped up on the sofa. Mother was sitting beside him, helping him hold up a silver ring teether to his mouth so that she could suck on it.

"Doesn't he look beautiful?" she said proudly.

"Beautiful," I confirmed. "Thank you for buying him some new clothes."

"Oh, he needed them!" Mother said. "Really Rosalie, I would have thought…"

"Mother, please don't start," I said wearily. "Emmett's family are really not well-off. I did what I could, and I'm grateful for what they were able to help with."

"Oh yes, but you're used to better things!" Mother persisted.

I was relieved when I heard the front door and Joanna came in. I had asked her to go to Royce's house and tell him I was back, and to ask if he was free for me to go and talk to him.

"I told him you were back, and I told him about the baby," she told me, handing me a folded note. "I thought it best not to mention Emmett."

I opened the note with fingers that shook slightly.

Rosalie,

I will expect to see you and my son at your earliest convenience.

Royce.

I felt sick. I couldn't take Jem. I didn't trust Royce an inch, and I didn't want the beautiful innocence of my Jem touched by the sick darkness of him. I also didn't want to give Royce any reason to fight me…in the abstract he might possibly agree to give up his son, but it would be a different matter if he saw that baby, simply a miniature version of him.

I went in search of Emmett, finding him out in the backyard weeding around some rosebushes.

"You don't have to do that," I said to him.

Emmett shrugged and brushed off his hands. "Gives me something to do…what's up?"

Silently I passed him Royce's note, watching his face darken as he read it and hearing the low rumble of anger from deep within his chest. "When are we going?"

"I think I should go alone," I said carefully.

"No," Emmett said flatly.

"But…"

"No. Last time you were alone with him he broke your arm…you're not going near him without someone to look out for you."

"I am going to," I steadily. "It's the only way there's even a chance of him agreeing to do what we want and accede to the divorce. Think about it Emmett…what's going to happen when you and he lay eyes on each other?"

"I guess we'd be moving pretty quickly to laying fists on each other," Emmett admitted wryly. "And the way I feel about the bastard I'd end up killing him for sure. So okay…not me. But you could take your father."

I shook my head. "Father works with Royce and his father, and if possible I'd like to not ruin that. I think it's better that he stays out of it, at least for now. No Emmett, the best way is for me to go and try to talk to him, while you keep Jem safe here."

"I don't like the idea," Emmett said stubbornly. "He's dangerous."

I shook my head. "I'm just going to talk to him. If he starts losing his temper I'll leave. Honestly Emmett, it's the best way."

He didn't agree, but there was little he could do about it and so after lunch I left Emmett and Jem at my parents' house, and walked to what had once been my home. I was surprised at how little emotion it raised in me when I was there. It was a beautiful showpiece house but I realised, as I knocked on the door and waited, that it had never felt like home.

"Rosalie." Royce opened the door himself.

"Royce." I didn't know what else to say.

He stepped back and gestured towards the small sitting room. I walked ahead of him, slightly unnerved to see how little had changed. Even my cream handbag was still on the hall table where I had carelessly left it so many months ago.

In the sitting room I took an armchair, and Royce stood before the unlit fireplace, staring down at me. It gave me a jolt to see his resemblance to Jem.

As if he could read my mind and knew I was thinking about the baby, Royce said quietly, "You didn't bring my son."

"I thought we should talk first," I said.

"What's to talk about?" Royce shrugged and continued to stare at me, his eyes glittering. "You left, Rosalie. Now it seems you've got tired of slumming it with the chauffeur and you've come crawling back. Well, I'm not sure that I want you back anymore."

"I didn't come back for that," I said softly. "You and I…that's over Royce. I came back because I want a divorce."

"Well, I might just be willing to give you one," Royce said with a laugh. "Once you give me my son."

"No," I said flatly. "Jem's mine. Anything else you want is yours. I'll let you blame me for the divorce, I'll admit guilt of adultery in court, I won't ask for any kind of settlement, I'll go away and you can pretend I never even existed, but you can't have Jem."

Royce laughed again. "My dear, deluded girl…you think you have any choice? You think that the law isn't on my side? You're a whore who is not fit to raise a child and I'll prove that in court. The things that I can say about you, Rosalie! You'll never be able to hold your head up again, once I'm through with you. And the baby will be mine."

I felt sick terror rising up in my stomach, and I tried not to let my voice shake as I said, "I know things about you too. What do you think people would think of some of the stories I could tell about you?"

Royce snorted. "You have no proof of anything. I, on the other hand, have plenty of evidence of your immoral behaviour. Face it Rosalie, it's a done deal. You give me the baby and I'll give you your divorce and you can spend the rest of your life down in the dirt with the dogs. I'm no longer interested in you. But my son is a King, and he will be raised as one. I won't let you raise him among hillbillies, sluts and halfwits."

"The McCarty's are nothing like that, and Emmett is twice the man you are," I spat. "He's been a better father to Jem in two months than you'll ever be…"

"Shut up, bitch!"

The words barely registered before Royce had his hands in my hair, using them to slam me headfirst into the occasional table before he dragged me to the floor. The blow to my head was hard enough to make everything spin dizzily about me, and I was barely aware for the moment it took Royce to straddle me, both my wrists caught in one strong hand and held up above my head. His other hand fumbled in his pocket for a moment before he withdrew a pearl handled pocket knife, the blade glinting sharply as everything came back into clear, terrible focus.

"You think he loves you?" Royce's face was so close I could feel droplets of moisture as he hissed at me. "You think he wants anything other than your pretty face and your money? Well, you don't have any money now…what do you think he's going to do when you're not so pretty anymore?" And there was a silver flash as Royce struck.

I screamed.

It was like a line of fire down the side of my face, and Royce laughed as I screamed again and struggled like a mad thing underneath him, desperate to free myself. My face burned and I could smell the warm, coppery scent of blood and feel it dripping down into my ear and running into my hair.

"I've marked you for the slut you are…just think how that pretty face is going to look with scars, Rosalie. Big, ugly scars…"

"You can't do this!" I gasped. "You won't get away with it."

Royce grinned, and for the first time I began to think he might be genuinely mad. "I've got away with it before," he said slyly, bending low to whisper at me. "Those girls that my friends and I played with in the street…some of them died, you know. Never came back on to us. Any hint of a scandal, Father pays them off. He knows lots of important people…the thing is Rosalie, I can do anything I want with you and I'll get away with it…"

I head-butted him in the face. As hard as I could, feeling pain like a knife through my skull as my already bruised head connected with his. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but it was hard enough to make him rear back and release my wrists, giving me a moment to fight.

I twisted wildly, shoving and scratching and kicking at Royce so that he fell sideways and freed my legs. The knife fell between us, and both of us grabbed for at the same time. Royce got there first.

I felt it slice into my fingers, scrape across my forearm, narrowly miss my face again. The pain was excruciating, my nerves screaming as the tears flooded my eyes, making me fight almost blindly, grabbing at Royce's hands to hold the knife away from me.

"Stupid bitch! You'll be so sorry for this…" Royce panted. His eyes were bright with rage as he tore at my clothes with his free hand, using his greater weight and height to push me backwards to the floor.

"No!" I wrapped both hands around Royce's fist that held the knife, and then brought my knee up hard into his groin, making him double over with a bellow. "I…said…NO!"

I didn't mean it what happened then. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it.

Or maybe I did.

Royce's fist was still gripping the knife, but both my hands were wrapped around his and, strong from months of milking cows and kneading bread, I was able to bend his wrist so that the knife no long threatened my throat. Not waiting to see what he would do next I brought up my knee again at the same time as I threw all my weight towards him, my hands forcing his hand backwards with the knife. With a sickening kind of ease it sliced through his shirt, and then skin and muscle and organs before I released it, the blood already rushing from the wound and spattering down on me like a gruesome rain.

Royce didn't scream. He seemed almost surprised to look down and see the knife sticking out of him, and then he whimpered as he fell to the side. I pushed him off me, scrambling to get away from the blood, terrified to be near him even as I knew that he wasn't able to hurt me anymore. The knife was buried to the hilt in his belly, and Royce's hands went to it disbelievingly.

"You…" his voice trailed away as he eyes glazed over. His face was stark white, the blood from his injury and the blood from mine mingling in drips and smears and puddles on the floor. His hands fell back and his body twitched.

I could have tried to help him. I could have made some effort to staunch the flow of blood. I could have called an ambulance or a doctor right away. It wouldn't have done any good - they told me later that the wound was fatal regardless of what medical attention he did or didn't receive - but even so, I could have tried.

I didn't. Instead, I laid my aching head down on the cool floor and shivered with pain and nausea as I watched Royce die.