— ⋆ ❖ ː ❛ Rose awoke to the taste of cherries on her tongue. There was the sensation of crisp and sweet excitement that laid heavy in her mouth. She jolted up and out of bed, ready to begin the day.
Everything about the outfit that Lucy laid out for her was pink and lovely and little. From the little pink blossoms on the toe of the shoe, to the flowers adorning her hair.
It felt good, and right. To be little and quaint, to be lovely and dainty. To just be a pretty adornment from a grander tree. That's all she needed to be to be content.
For what much difference was there between a rose and a cherry blossom?
She mused these thoughts and others while on her way to the Grand Hall to receive her family.
In his letters, her father had seemed more than fine. But was he merely lying to curb her worries? A pang of fear and dread swept through her heart at the thought. If he needed her, she would absolutely return at once home.
But, she wanted to stay. Oh, how she wanted to. For once to not be blamed for anything, for nothing whatsoever to be expected of her. At first it was jarring and she was quite uncomfortable with people tending to her every need, but now, it felt as though she was receiving relief from all she had been through.
And even though Lord Ashworth kept her on her toes, she appreciated his company, his honesty, and his unique way of thinking. She hadn't imagined his lifestyle or the way he presented himself even possible! For someone to be so comfortable and carefree in who they were…
But first and foremost, she had her duty as a daughter. Indulgences and fantasies—relaxation and relief—would all be put aside if her father needed her.
At least, that's what she should be thinking.
Her mind continued to wander on all the pretty dresses and the garden maze and Lucy and her wonderful bed with the canopy above it and Lord—
And then, the sound of clopping horse shoes up the driveway. Rose's mouth ran dry. Why should she be so nervous? They were only her family. She should be excited, as excited as she was when she woke up with the taste of cherries in her mouth.
But what would they think when they saw her indulging in the grand castle, leaving them in the dilapidated mansion? Rose tugged at her dress, just knowing how Hattie would want to yank it off of her the moment her eyes landed on it. This wasn't the Rose her family knew. She wasn't even sure if this was herself. She just tried to be whatever the people of the castle seemed to want her to be.
But this was her family. She wanted to see them. That was why they came to visit after all, was it not? They, out of everyone, would surely understand. They would understand that she was happy here, being treated as a baroness, even though she was not one, even though she did not deserve anything that was being freely given to her…
"My lady, are you quite alright?"
Rose jolted. She opened her eyes to find Lucy staring directly at her, the older woman's lips pursed and thin brows wrinkled together in concern.
"Yes… I'm fine."
"You grew pale all o' sudden."
"It's nothing."
Lucy shifted her weight and crossed her arms.
"Are you sure?"
But before Rose could reply, the tall doors opened. Rose hardly waited a moment once her family was announced that she jumped into her father's arms.
"Woah, woah there!" he called out, taking off his traveling hat and letting it fall to the side. Rose took a huge whiff off of his jacket—the familiar scent of his tobacco she so missed. They hugged each other tightly.
"Oh Father, I can hardly believe how long it has been—" Rose exited the hug and looked upon his face. All of his wrinkles had mostly gone; he looked almost just as he had before the bankruptcy. He looked like the father she remembered from her childhood. A jovial quality about him, like a happy grandfather. She hadn't seen him like that in so long she almost forgot he had existed.
And his clothing… It was not old and worn out. But brand new!
"Do you like it?" He tugged on his collar and then brushed off the coat. "Fresh from London."
"Very much, Father," Rose gleamed. "But how?!"
"Why, dear daughter, have you forgotten!? Lord Ashworth in all his generosity gave us enough money to be rid of that horrid debt, and to establish life anew! I'm a proper gentleman now!"
Rose looked her father up and down, in disbelief. She knew all of the facts. She knew what had happened. But to see it before her plain, to know the effects of what had happened. It did not seem real. Was it true? Was their suffering finally over? Were all of her Father's troubles so easily solved?
She smiled. "That is wonderful, Father. You do not look yourself!"
"Ah," he waved a finger, "I only do not look myself to those who do not remember who I truly was." Father gestured to his full outfit—a fine brown traveling outfit, fit for a man of his new status. "This is who I really am."
Rose shook her head and giggled. "I do not remember you being so haughty."
"Yes, that could be new," he mused. "But alas, I have every right to be! I am happy after being so long denied. I will boast my happiness and good fortune to the ends of the earth!"
Rose giggled at how silly and foolish her new Father was. He danced around like a young schoolboy.
And then, voices from beyond the doorway:
"Oh, dear, this dreadful weather! I can hardly stand this heat. Don't you know my condition, dearest brother?!" Rose recognized Hattie's complaining from miles away.
She turned her head to find Harrison, appearing most amused, holding a parasol for her seemingly-out-of-sorts sister.
"Hattie! Harrison!" Rose couldn't help but smile upon seeing them, even if they were the less delightable of her siblings and did not smile back.
"Ah, Lizzie," Hattie said, out of breath.
Rose cringed at the name. She hadn't heard it in so long. The taste in her mouth had begun to spoil, turning sour, like spoiled milk that was once so fresh and sweet.
"I must get inside immediately if I am to withstand this weather. Won't you help me up these stairs?"
Rose reacted immediately, bracing herself to fly down the stairs to her sister in need, but then felt a tug at her shoulder. The girl whipped back to find Lucy giving her a look. The older woman cleared her throat.
"What is it?" Rose asked.
"Allow the young able men and servants to aid 'er, dearie," she whispered so only Rose could hear. "You don't 'ave to if'n you don't want to."
Suddenly, a few servants whipped out, sweeping past Rose, all going to aid Rose's sprawling sister.
"Now that is service," Hattie commented. "Why can't you be more like them, Harrison?"
"I'm not your servant, Hattie," he snapped, letting go of the parasol and crossing his arms.
Exiting the carriage last were Minnie and Ferguson. Minnie sauntered her way to the footsteps of the castle, keeping a sharp eye on Rose's dress. Or so it seemed that is what she was staring at.
"Lizzie!" Ferguson's booming voice rattled through the air, shaking it. He bounded across the lawn and up the stairs to his sister.
While he only took her hand, it felt as though Rose were being smacked in the face by a large bear. She had forgotten how large and abrasive her brother could be, without knowing it. Like a gentle giant dog that leapt on top of people and knocked them over out of love instead of hate.
But even for all of her brother's height and breadth, she knew now of true enormity. Lord Ashworth crept up out of the back of her mind. She imagined him watching her family from somewhere high up in the tallest rooms of the castle. How pitiful he must think they all were… How undeserving of his charity.
But then again, Lord Ashworth was of the strange and eccentric sort. Perhaps he would find a kind of odd charm in her family's behavior—or if not that, some outlandish reason to be fond of them Rose couldn't possibly imagine—and so give them even more money. But then again, he could just be annoyed and irritated at their display of vanity and unruliness.
Or was she worrying over it too much? Rose loved her family and, if need be, she would list off the admirable qualities of each of the members to prove to Lord Ashworth that, deep down, they were all worthy of receiving his charity…
Rose turned her head toward the elaborate, golden-rimmed new chariot that her family had ridden in. She then caught a glimpse of Minnie's new dress, with all of its bows and ribbons and elegant jewels. It was much more complex and ornate a gown than she had ever thought possible.
"Hello, Minnie," Rose said, curtsying.
"How do you do?" Minnie did not seem to be her normal proud self. She did not make eye contact with her piercing green eyes, and instead just stared at Rose's dress.
Rose's chest tightened at the thought of what her sister might be feeling, but she soon twisted on her heels and pushed the fears aside.
"Do come in, everyone," she said. They all entered into the Grand Hall and Rose tried her hardest to not astutely observe and worry over what each of her family member's reactions were.
As to be expected, Ferguson gaped at the inside of the castle, his mouth wide open, like a child staring up at the stars and noticing the constellations for the first time. He even let out a "My God!" every few moments.
Father's reactions were not far off from Ferguson's, although he soon found a mirror at the far side of the Grand Hall and went to admire his reflection.
Hattie, of course, never caught a breath.
"No, no, don't take that! I'm awfully cold now that I'm inside."
"Lizzie, when will dinner be done? I'm starved."
"Don't you know what a condition I'm in?! How dare you insinuate such a thing!"
But Rose could hardly pay attention to Hattie on account of her other sister. No matter what she did or where she moved, there were Minnie's eyes, following her, looking her up and down. Even when they moved into the dining hall, Minnie remained completely silent, slowly sipping her tea, never once moving her gaze.
It felt so strange, like a mixture of spoiled colors that had fallen on the floor, not quite one color and not quite the other. Uncertain. As though something was missing—all that was needed was one more drop of paint to create a hue that was definite and defined. It was her. Minnie was missing. Her opinion, always front and center, always present. Her constant need for attention and assertion of dominance in the hierarchy of siblings. What could have possibly happened to silence her?
Her father's voice snapped Rose out of the troubling fog of spiraling thoughts:
"I propose a toast," he said, standing up, "to our mysterious host, Lord Ashworth, who has changed all of our lives for the better."
Everyone around the table piped up in agreement, except Rose, and Minnie. Her sister glared at her from across the table.
Rose shriveled up inside. Had Lord Ashworth changed the two of their lives for the better?
"Well Lizzie Rose," Father called out, "how has castle life been treating you?"
Jolting up, Rose gaped at her father.
"How has it been…?" She trailed off.
"Why, yes, we're all dying to know." Her father rested his hands under his chin intently.
Rose's eyes flitted to Minnie, and then back to the rest of her family. Ferguson and Father seemed eager enough to hear what she had to say; Hattie and Harrison could care less.
"Well, I—" Her mind went blank. What was it they wanted to hear? Would they bash her if she told them how absolutely wonderful her new life was? Would they even believe her if she told them the truth? What was the truth?
"You look happier," Ferguson spoke up.
Rose flushed. "Really? You think so?"
"There's color in your cheeks now!" Father said.
"Oh." She almost wanted to apologize. But why?
"Surely life here must be wonderful, is it not?" They both inquired.
"Oh, it is!" She felt compelled to agree.
"Well, life back home has been on the uphill as well."
"Really?" Rose smiled warily. "How so?"
Father beamed ear to ear. "Well, Lord Ashworth's recompense has allowed us to live life anew. Entirely new furnishings for the manor! All up-to-date!"
Rose's brow fell. "You mean, all the old furniture is—"
"Thrown out, my dear!"
Rose's heart fell. Her body went numb.
Though they were old and dilapidated, falling apart… they were still the furnishings and objects from her childhood. Her little self, what seemed a lifetime ago, had confidently ran through those halls—sat in those chairs and read her fairytale books, kicking her feet up in joy.
Was that all gone now?
"Yes, my dear, we've all new wardrobes, too, as you can see! And new servants. I no longer need you to tend to me. It's all taken care of now!"
Rose's heart shattered into a million pieces. Her eyes grew watery and red.
"What's the matter, dear?" Father asked. "Aren't you happy with how everything has turned out?"
She shook her head, closing her eyes and blotting away her tears. "Oh, nothing, it's just, I'm so overwhelmed. This is… this is such wonderful news!"
"Yes, I know! No more working away your youth tending to your old father when you should be here, treated properly, like the lady you are!"
Rose smiled through the heartache, using every ounce of strength she had to merely hold herself together.
She didn't pay attention to the rest of what was said at dinner. Merely nodded her head when anyone laughed or said anything in her general direction. The room became a haze; she went into a stupor.
The men soon retired to the parlor to smoke and laugh about how all of their problems and anxieties were solved. Rose and her sisters traveled to one of the quaint ladies' rooms.
Hattie fanned herself profusely while scrounging down some sugar tarts. When she was done with one plate, she would always demand a servant bring her more. Rose was particularly sensitive to the grotesque monching, and found it rather distasteful.
But the only other company in the room, of course, was her other sister's seering gaze. Minnie had not taken her eyes off of Rose the entire time.
Funny, she should prefer company with a literal Beast than her own two sisters.
Suddenly, Hattie leaned in, and Rose could smell her breath from feet away. "Now Lizzie, I've got something very important to tell you," she said, mid-bite.
Minnie piped up for the first time the whole day: "Yes, yes, Hattie, we're all very aware of your condition. I'm sure Rose is too." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
Rose turned back to her apparently-stricken sister and inquired, "Dearest Hattie, what's the matter?" She instinctively shot her eyes down at her sister's protruding stomach, but pulled them back up to her face immediately.
Hattie scooted toward Rose, leaned in, and whispered in a voice hoarse from shouting all day: "I'm with child."
Child. Multiple images and senses flooded Rose's mind. She recalled her mother forcing peas into her mouth, telling her that they were good for her and she would love them someday. The icky mushy taste. Peas were what babies ate. With their goblin green hands rolling around in the stuff.
"Oh!" Rose exclaimed. "Oh, Hattie, how marvelous!"
Hattie's eyes beamed brighter than Rose had ever seen. A genuine smile, not a smile because she had gotten her way, not a bragging grin—but of pure and genuine happiness and contentment.
It would be the first child of this generation. Father's first grandchild.
"Yes, yes, thank you. William and I both are thrilled beyond belief," she said, rubbing her belly.
"You both ought to be mighty proud. Congratulations."
"How does it feel to be an aunt?"
Rose chuckled and gave her sister a look. Aunt was such a funny word. A title she felt that only went to older women who rocked in rocking chairs and decided younger people's futures and fates since they were not content in their own. It did not describe her.
Auntie Lizzie. She shook her head at such a blasphemous title. Certainly she would never allow herself to be called such a thing. But then again, there were many things which she did not want to be called that eventually she grew to tolerate.
Rose and Hattie discussed the child's potential name and the preparations. It was the most engaged conversation they'd had in years.
And Rose, she couldn't help but feel as though she had a part in this sisterhood once again. Even if Hattie was ultimately selfish, she did seem to care about her future child. Rose smiled at her sister's enthusiasm and pride. Perhaps, if Rose wasn't needed as a daughter anymore—as she feared was the case—she could be an aunt. The thought encroached upon her and she despised it, but if it was the only way she was needed or wanted in the family, then she would gladly take the role.
But there was always that lingering gaze—piercing in the back of her head from across the other side of the lounge. A spiteful gaze that said to Rose, 'You do not belong.'
As the conversation between sisters died down, and Hattie continued to partake in the castle's neverending refreshments, the hole burning in the back of Rose's head only became more and more intense. Several times Minnie even took a breath as though she were about to speak.
The servants offered both Rose and Minnie refreshments, but they declined. An agonizing silence pervaded through the room.
Rose tensed up as Minnie's voice, almost sensuous, cooed, "Well, Lizzie, I'm dying to know what castle life has been like."
Rose turned around, facing her other sister, who now rested one of her hands under her chin. Her whole demeanor had changed. She now wore her simper that Rose knew all too well. Was this some kind of trick?
"Oh, well, it's been… fine."
"Just fine?"
"Yes," she answered curtly.
"It seems to me that you're doing more than fine, dear sister. Receiving the royal treatment you've never had before."
Rose tried to look away. "Oh? I hardly noticed."
"Oh, don't be so meek, Lizzie. I can tell you absolutely love it here. I am your sister after all. Don't I know you better than anyone?"
Rose wanted to say, 'No, you don't know me at all,' but she didn't have it in her feeble heart to declare such a retort.
"I guess you can see through me then," she giggled hesitantly.
"Oh, most certainly," Minnie leered. "So, tell me, how do you really feel about this place?"
Rose pondered over it for a minute. She processed her thoughts outloud: "Well… I, I mean it was rather overwhelming at first. The service, the food, the atmosphere. But now, I can't help but feel I've become comfortable in it."
Minnie grinned, and Rose couldn't determine if it was true or if she had ulterior motives. "You know, I was surprised when you did not send for any of your books. I thought, perhaps there are books at the castle she's reading now. Then another thought came over me. Perhaps she's living her fairytale so she doesn't have to read them anymore."
Rose's eyes widened. She hadn't thought about her books in so long. She honestly had not picked up one her entire time at the castle, even if a library was available to her. Minnie—somehow—was right.
She creased her brows. "You might be right, sister."
"Well, of course I am! I knew that you never actually loved reading for reading's sake, or for knowledge sake. You wanted an escape. And who wouldn't want to escape from our previous dreary existence?"
Rose nodded, facing the floor.
"And now you have it. Servants tending to your every whim. Three or more fabulous meals a day. Beautiful grounds, an exquisite bedroom, the most shining estate you ever did see. And all the money your family could ever want or need."
"Did he really give you all the money you could ever want?"
Minnie lifted a brow. "Yes, I suppose. Or at least he did to Father, and Father gives us allowances."
"I see. And has it been helpful?"
Minnie sighed, but immediately picked back up her previous tone. "Yes, most certainly."
"That is good to hear. Lord Ashworth is… a most generous man."
"He must be. For you to be treated as a baroness with all of its perks and benefits, without actually having to be his wife."
Wife. Her world turned pure ghostly white. The word stunned her. It was like the stench of pure alcohol. Cleansing, stripping.
"Certainly you must be overjoyed about that. I remember how timid you were."
"Y-yes. I— It was quite a relief."
"I can only imagine."
Minnie leaned in. "Is it true?"
Hattie, still chomping, also leaned in, eager to hear Rose's response.
"Is what true?"
"Is he, you know?"
Rose's eyes flitted about the room. She knew what they wanted to hear.
"He is a most perfect gentleman, and that is all I can say."
"So you have not seen him then? His true form, I mean."
"No, I have." The words slipped out. She should have denied it. Rose cursed herself under her breath.
"Come then, sister!" Minnie got up and sat down beside Rose, putting her arm through her own. "You can tell me. You do not have to keep face here. I won't tell anyone if the rumors are true."
Rose knew that wasn't the case, but— Minnie had never put her arm around her before. She had never seemed so genuinely interested in what Rose had to say.
Perhaps she had a place. Not as a daughter, or an aunt. But as a sister.
And sisters confided in one another and told the truth, did they not?
"Minnie, you cannot tell anyone I told you this. I know you, and I know that you love gossip."
"Nonsense! We've all changed, can't you see? I'm not who I once was. There are more things to life besides gossip now, I've come to realize. I'm just curious and want to know who my beloved sister in staying with in this castle. I care about you, Rose."
Rose.
Rose.
Rose.
She had called her, by her name.
Perhaps she had changed. They all had. Minnie, who never once cared for anybody but herself, now cared for her. And knew her by her name. Rose.
"Well, he… He is…"
Minnie and Hattie closed in around her.
The servants held their breath.
In the tiniest whispering voice, Rose uttered, "The rumors, they're all true."
Minnie gasped. Hattie nearly choked on her pastry.
"Tell me, tell me. Was he burned, born deformed, does he have abnormal amounts of hair?"
"Shh, shh!" Rose winced, calming her sister. "This is between us and us alone. That is all I can tell you. I am sorry."
Minnie let out a witchy laugh. "Hahahah! So, my sister avoided a most horrid husband, and yet reaped all the benefits from it! How lucky are you! The most timid and mild of us all, what could you have possibly done to earn a life such as this!?"
Rose wasn't sure if she should laugh or cringe.
Minnie patted her on the back. "I'm proud of you."
Rose's eyes lit up, burning blue.
"You've finally put down your books and come into the real world. You've taken hold of life by the hand. I never thought I'd ever see this day."
Rose smiled. "Really?" Her stomach fluttered with glee and disbelief at how kind her sister was.
"Yes! You've masterminded your way around this and saved your family in doing so. I could not have done it better myself. I must admit, I am a wee bit jealous, but proud. Oh, so proud. My little sister's become a true woman."
Hattie chimed in, mid-bite, "Yes, quite right! I would not be as I am now if it weren't for you, dear Lizzie."
"Oh, thank you, sisters." Rose blushed. They had never been so kind and gracious to her in all her life. "I suppose it was rather ingenious of me."
"Most indeed!" Minnie declared.
"I get to be treated like a princess, like I always wanted." She leaned her head down, beaming. "But without the dreadfulness that comes with being his wife."
Hattie and Minnie toppled over with deep belly laughs.
"Oh, Rose, I never knew you were so funny!"
"I see what money and status has done to you!"
"So bold!"
"So charming!"
Rose felt so good about herself. Her heart had never felt so full before, her mind and wit so emboldened. Perhaps her sisters were right all along, and she was the one who should have gotten her head out of the clouds. Perhaps she had a place amongst her sisters all along, but never allowed herself in.
After an hour or so of reminiscing back to their childhoods and commenting on how much had changed, it was decided that they should all retire to their bedrooms. Her family had been provided with some fine guest rooms.
Rose smiled contentedly, almost giddy with delight, as she made her way back to her room. She had never been so proud of herself before. She had never even been proud once in her life. Is this what the feeling was like? It was no wonder Minnie found it so addicting.
As she was about to turn the knob to her great wooden, fairytale-esque door, a low voice crooned vehemently:
"So, this is how you have chosen to repay me."
All of her previous feelings were shocked out of her system. She froze in place, and saw the great shadow of him over her door.
"Come, let's discuss this further, in private. I will decide you and your family's fate from there, Miss Bourne."
