Rosalie sat on a plush, red loveseat in the corner of the study, her grandfather beside her. An expensive silver tray with a tea set rested on the coffee table before them. He poured her a cup of steaming tea with a careful hand, a gentle smile on his face as he gestured to the small pots of cream and sugar.

"Would you like anything added to your tea? I'll fix it for you." He offered, eager to do something for her.

Rosalie played with the ends of her hair. Her head felt naked without her hat. It was set on the table beside the tea tray and she resisted the urge to gaze at it longingly. "I'll have some sugar." She answered. "Thank you."

Her grandfather introduced himself as Charles Montgomery, known as Charlie by his close friends and family. He owned a large tobacco farm and had made a fortune selling cigars and pipe tobacco. The business had been in the Montgomery family since before the Louisiana Purchase and before the city was known as New Orleans, back when it was still French territory. The longstanding success of their tobacco business allowed the family to achieve and maintain an affluent status, holding wealth and influence since the founding of the United States.

Her grandfather seemed like a fine man, until he started speaking about the Spanish, as apparently their family had a nasty history with Spaniards trying to steal their property and burn their fields back in the day… why this mattered to him, Rosalie didn't understand, as that was in the 1700s, which was clearly a long, long time ago. But her grandfather hated the Spanish, that much was certain from the way his face screwed up when he told her that part of history. It was something she could overlook for now, at least.

The extent of their wealth was baffling to Rosalie. She had only known herself as the poor daughter of a con man father who would swindle all the money he could out of any fine gentleman who stepped within a foot of him. She never considered the possibility that she was related to the fine gentleman.

Rosalie sipped her tea, eyes drifting around the fancy room and its expensive decor. She wondered how much she could get for half the items in the room. Probably enough to set her up on a nice ranch in Oregon, where she would never have to think about money again. She was certain that even one of the oil paintings lining the walls would set her up for life.

But she wasn't going to steal from her grandfather. At least not yet, anyway. If he proved to be a horrible man… she wouldn't mind having sticky fingers.

"So, my mother," Began Rosalie, lowering her cup to her lap. "I never knew her, as you were already aware, due to her death in childbirth. But my daddy… he never mentioned anything about this. About the money… or… where she came from." She furrowed her brows. "Do you know why?" She asked.

Charlie sighed and nodded his head. "Yes, well, I may not know exactly what was going on in your father's head, but I can take a guess." He chuckled and shook his head, placing a hand on his knee. He paused as he chose his words carefully. "...Your father was not someone I approved of for my daughter. I realize now as an old man… that keeping Addie from him was a mistake, as that girl would have her way no matter what. Even if I told her no." He seemed to be amused at the thought, reminiscing about his daughter.

"...Did she run away?" Asked Rosalie gently. She leaned forward and set her teacup on the table, eyeing her grandfather, the cup rattling as it rested on the mahogany.

Charlie nodded, his eyes becoming sad, as though all his regrets were lined up in front of him on display. "That she did. Henry came to me and asked for her hand like a proper man. I told him no. Said that my daughter would marry no outlaw. No con man. She would be the wife of no swindler."

Charlie sighed and raised a hand to his cheek, pure regret etched into the lines of his face. "How I regret that now. Oh… how she cried and pleaded for me to change my mind. I refused and said I wanted a good life for her. One that Henry Klein could not give her." He let out another deep sigh. "She understood I was a stubborn fool who would not change his mind. So she left. Packed her things in the middle of the night, stole hundreds from me, and took off. I never heard from her again."

Rosalie was dumbfounded at the knowledge. She never considered her father to be an 'outlaw', but there was no other way to describe him, as while he was no murderer, he was prepared to be one if things got ugly, and stole from almost anyone. If an opportunity presented itself, he would take advantage of every miserable bastard he could.

Knowing Adelaide stole money from her father as part of her getaway plan was an amusing detail. He didn't even seem angry about it, though she had a feeling that a few hundred dollars was a drop in the bucket to him anyhow.

But to know mother had run away to be with her father… this was new information to Rosalie. Her father hadn't spoken of Adelaide much, as the memories were too painful. Rosalie had no idea how they met, where Adelaide came from, or her family. These little slivers of information about her mother left Rosalie yearning for more. It wasn't enough. This woman in the frayed photo who looked startlingly similar to herself… Rosalie would soak up every detail that was offered to her.

Her grandfather seemed like a good man. Though this good, thoughtful man in front of her could have very well been shaped by the regrets of losing his daughter. Rosalie would not have been surprised. But, she also couldn't say she would have done anything different than her grandfather. If Rosalie's daughter wanted to run off with an outlaw who stole and conned for a living, she wouldn't approve either.

Charlie gave her another sad smile. "It was all useless. I didn't want her to end up like Henry. But she already was like him in a way. She was mischievous and hated being in the house. She was no wallflower, but someone who loved to be about the city and stick her nose into anything that piqued her interest. Addie was not built for this life." He gave Rosalie a knowing look, his eyes raking over her attire, straying on her muddy boots. "...And it seems neither are you."

Rosalie frowned, feeling the urge to shrink into herself at the knowing look in his eyes. "Is that a bad thing, Sir?" She asked, feeling defensive.

"No, not at all." Charlie sighed wistfully and looked over to the painting of Adelaide and Eleanor, his eyes sad. "I just wished I had realized that sooner. She was a good girl. Mischievous and a spitfire, but a gentle, good girl. She would donate her things and spend time at the St. Vincent orphanage on the north side of the city." He shook his head with a nostalgic expression. "Her mother hated it, and she would practically chase after Addie, screaming about how she should not interact with common folk, and that it would threaten her chances of finding a proper husband. I left them to their squabbles as I knew it was no use to get involved. A mother-daughter relationship is not for a father to be involved in."

Rosalie found it almost laughable. Her mother must have truly been the saintlike woman her father described. Spending her time at orphanages, for goodness' sake… it was baffling to Rosalie, but also bemusing that her grandmother would chase her around and do anything she could to prevent Adelaide from spending her time there.

The comment about interacting with common folk… it was the remark Rosalie had been anticipating the moment she stepped into the home. Surprisingly, the first mention of high society and commoners came in reference to her grandmother, who was nowhere to be found.

At the realization that she hadn't met her grandmother yet, and there was no mention of her prior, she looked around in confusion. "Is she…?" The unsaid question lingered as Rosalie felt it would be too insensitive for her to outright ask if her grandmother was still alive.

"Ah… my wife died not too long after Addie passed. Evelyn's heart broke, as did mine, but she took it… much harder than even I." Charlie shook his head and patted Rosalie on the arm. "Enough of that, though. Please, come to the garden party I'm hosting this weekend. I would love for you to meet your cousins, and I'm sure Eleanor would love to see you again." He offered, his eyes hopeful.

Rosalie looked down at her grandfather's wrinkled hand, her lips pursed as she considered his invitation.

She didn't belong at a high-class party. While her grandfather called it a 'garden party', she could only imagine that it was not going to be one where they got all muddy and planted flowers. Rosalie wasn't even sure she knew what a garden party was… but the thought of turning him down when her grandfather seemed so eager to include her, she didn't know if she had it in her to say no. It might break his heart.

"I promise it won't be unbearable," Added Charlie, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "I may have some business partners attending that I am not rather fond of… but I would like you to come if you are willing."

Rosalie smiled. "Business partners, hm? I suppose I'll have to make time in my schedule for it." She teased.

Charlie barked a laugh. "Ha! If only I could say these business partners were worth your time… though I won't say too much in case you get the idea to back out now—there are some from Saint Denis attending that I would rather not if I could have it my way." He waved his hand and let out a great sigh. "Though business is business, I suppose."

Rosalie raised a brow. "Saint Denis? Isn't that a quarter outside of New Orleans?"

He nodded and sipped his tea. "Yes. And I would not recommend going there. Stuffy, miserable place that is."

Rosalie laughed at the sour expression her grandfather's face twisted into. Charlie shook his head and set his teacup down on the table beside hers, before facing her again with a hopeful expression. "So, you'll come then? You don't need to worry about proper attire or anything of the sort, as Eleanor will get you fashioned properly." He explained.

After a pause, Rosalie nodded. "Yes, I'll come. Though… I don't know how proper I'll act, or if I'll behave to your standards." She said sheepishly, looking off to the side.

Charlie waved her off. "Nonsense. As long as you don't act like a monkey and start throwing food at people, there will be no problems."

Rosalie made a face, letting out a startled laugh at his comment. "Well, I-I don't think I'll have any issues there…" Rosalie stuttered out.

She was more surprised by her grandfather the longer she spent with him. He seemed like an interesting man and was not at all how she pictured him before. For him to make a joke about monkeys throwing food…? Shocking was one way to put it.

"Great!" Charlie grinned and patted her hand. "Then I shall see you this weekend. George will give you all the details."

Rosalie was led out of the home and given her horse by Tommy, who she thanked, glad to see that Blitz was well taken care of, brushed and his saddle cleaned. She would have to check to make sure none of her belongings were stolen later that evening… but she didn't anticipate that anything was taken.

As she saddled herself onto the horse, George walked over, a black riding hat on his head and wearing a suit jacket. He appeared much more put together than when she saw him that morning, running over and in a hurry, but he was sure to be sweating underneath all the layers.

Rosalie's suspicions were right, as she could see the sweat on his brow as he neared, an invitation in his hand. He smiled up at her and held it out, the crisp paper decorated with intricate black lines and fancy, curly writing.

"Here's the invitation, miss." George smiled at her. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you there."

"You'll be there?" Rosalie asked, tilting her head as she eyed the invitation before her gaze drifted back to him.

"Yes, I will. Even if Mr. Montgomery finds my company to be miserable, my father is his business partner." Teased George, his grin widening.

Rosalie smiled at the teasing glint in his tone, still surprised by his attitude. "Well, then I guess I'll see you there."

With that being the last sentence between them, George took a step back and smiled at her, giving a small wave as she tugged on Blitz's reins and urged him into a trot. She began down the path, his hooves crunching against the gravel, glad to be in her saddle again.

Rosalie glanced over her shoulder, blinking at George, who was still standing at the beginning of the path where she left him.

He was a strange man, but Rosalie liked him. In a way, she was glad he would be at the party. Despite George's claims of his company being miserable, Rosalie had a feeling she would seek out his company often at the garden party.

Rosalie was more curious now than when she first arrived. The holes seemed to be filling in, now that she had provided insight from her grandfather, but her mother still remained a bit of a mystery. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to uncover, more pieces to fit together to understand her mother's history fully.

Adelaide seemed like an interesting woman, and Rosalie, while she had always wanted to know her mother, wished now more than ever that she could speak to her. How was it that this woman was kind, sold away many of her expensive things, and spent time in orphanages, yet she was mischievous and liked to get up to no good? Rosalie wasn't surprised that her grandmother would lose her head over the thought of Adelaide spending her time in those places, as she could only imagine what the orphanage looked like in comparison to the grand Montgomery manor.

This lingering question is what led Rosalie to ride away from the Montgomery property, heading toward the north side of the city.

The streets were not as clean as the French and Spanish districts and were much more industrial, with random businesses held in brick buildings. People dressed in shabby clothes lined the streets. A few beggars shook tin cups while others ate their lunch against brick walls, talking to their friends.

In the distance, Rosalie eyed a sign on a building labeled St. Vincent's Orphanage. She rode up to it and slid off her saddle, hitching Blitz to a nearby post. After she gave him an affectionate pat on the neck, she neared the stone steps that led into the home, the orphanage built into a large brick building at the end of the corner.

A few kids kicked a ball in the street, their clothes worn, but their faces clean and taken care of, though they appeared thin. A few boys leaned against the stairs to the orphanage, no older than fourteen or fifteen, eyeing her as she neared them. One of the boys smoked a cigarette, the oldest of the group.

"Can I help you, pretty lady?" Asked the boy, trying to appear much more mature than he was as he looked Rosalie up and down, his long brown hair hanging in his eyes.

Rosalie resisted the urge to make a face at the boy and instead remained neutral so she didn't make a bad impression. "I'm lookin' for the Mistress of this children's home." She answered, walking up to the steps and placing her hands on her hips, looking down at him.

The boy clicked his tongue and looked off to the side. He held his cigarette out in front of him, eyeing the smoking bud as he spoke lazily. "Nah, she's out right now, little lady. You ain't gonna find her here."

One of his friends snickered. "Yeah, that might change though, if you do somethin' for us…"

"And what might that be?" She asked with a raised brow.

"You know…" The kid wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Unbutton your shirt or somethin'."

Rosalie resisted the urge to throttle the kid. He couldn't have been more than fifteen and he wanted her to flash him? She was disgusted! A young man and all he could think about was what was under her shirt. It seemed he had been spending too much time at the brothels or something, but she was no whore. There was nothing wrong with that profession, as it was one way a woman could get by, but to imply Rosalie would do that…? It pissed her off!

"H-hey!" Her face went aflame. "Who do you think you are–?!"

"Michael! I told you to stop harassin' the ladies that walk by!" Came a shrill, older woman's voice as she swung the door open to glare at the boy.

The mistress of the orphanage was an older woman whose grey hair was braided into a messy plait down her back. She wore a simple red dress, though it looked dirty and worn as though it was one she owned for years. She wore no jewelry, save for the single gold cross strung around her neck.

The boy jumped and looked as though he had seen death itself. "Ah-ah–! I'm sorry, ma'am! I was just, I-I–!" He stuttered out, turning paler by the minute.

The mistress scoffed and pulled the towel off her shoulder, spinning it as though she was going to whip him. "No more of this nonsense! You run off and do somethin' else or I'll show you I mean business!" She threatened, taking a step closer.

The boy didn't need to be told twice. The group scrambled off the steps and took off down the street, whooping and laughing as they glanced back at the older woman. They surely thought the whole thing was very funny, but Rosalie was irritated beyond belief.

The mistress clicked her tongue as she watched them run off. She swung the towel over her shoulder and faced Rosalie, a deep sigh leaving her lips as she folded her hands over her stomach. "I'm sorry 'bout that, miss. These young boys ain't got a real man to look to… so they behave in despicable ways sometimes. I would advise you to steer clear." She tilted her head, eyeing Rosalie as though she was trying to put the pieces together. "I'm sorry if I'm being too forward, but do I know you…?" She asked.

Rosalie resisted the urge to snort. Did she really have such noticeable similarities to her mother? She knew they looked alike from her grandfather's reaction, along with Eleanor's, and the painting in the study, but for even the orphanage mistress to recognize her… it was strange.

Rosalie reached for her hat, slowly lowering it to her chest as she looked up at the woman. The mistress let out a gasp, eyes going wide.

"I-I dare say? Adelaide Montgomery? You look the same as the last day I saw you!" The mistress rushed down the stairs and grabbed onto Rosalie's arm as though she was a long-lost friend. Once she was closer though, she paused, the excitement in her features dwindling and replaced by a look of confusion. "Oh… I…?" She fumbled, eyes darting across Rosalie's features.

Rosalie gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not Adelaide Montgomery. I'm her daughter… Rosalie Klein."

The mistress took a step back and cleared her throat, folding her hands. She pursed her lips in embarrassment. "Forgive me for my forward actions, but you… well, you look like your mother, very much so, but I know you ain't her… as you look very much like that Klein boy too." She made a face of dismay. "Addie told me she planned to run off with him, and I figured she must have, as she never returned… though you are proof of that, it seems." She answered.

Rosalie didn't like that the mistress seemed to have a poor opinion of her father. While the woman didn't say it outright, it was evident enough in the fact that he referred to Henry as the 'Klein boy', and in the way her nose wrinkled as she said it.

"I guess you didn't like my father much," Rosalie said with a raised brow.

The mistress sighed and looked around. "Well… I wouldn't say that to be true." She turned and began up the stairs, waving over her shoulder. "Come inside. It seems you have questions, so I suppose I can answer them. You knew to come here, after all."

Rosalie took a look around the street, eyeing the children playing, before she complied, following the woman of the house into the building.

They walked through the large, black door of the orphanage and down the hall, Rosalie's boots clinking against the dark hardwood floors as she followed after the mistress. The hallway was small, the walls painted dark blue and chipped, most likely from children playing rough in the halls. Thumping came from upstairs as someone fell over, followed by the sound of shrill laughter.

The mistress led her to the back of the house into the kitchen. The kitchen was large enough to support the children who lived in the home, as Rosalie could only imagine how many mouths she had to feed.

The woman sat at a dark, wooden table, gesturing to the other wooden chair for Rosalie to have a seat. Rosalie seated herself at the table and looked around the room, her eyes drifting over the scattered children's toys and chips on the wall.

"So, you're Addie's daughter." Hummed the Mistress, folding her hands on the table. "I'm Eloise. I've run this orphanage since I was a young woman, havin' grown up here myself… I grew very attached to this place and couldn't bear to leave the children. Your mother began volunteering here when she was a young woman." She hummed in thought as she ruffled through her memories. "She must've been sixteen or so."

Eloise leaned forward with a scrutinizing expression. "Why are you here, dear? When Addie disappeared, I thought I'd never hear of the girl again."

Rosalie drummed her fingers against the surface of the table as she mulled over the question.

She didn't know why, honestly. Maybe she thought that showing up here and speaking to someone who was not part of her mother's family would give her more insight into her character. Of course, her grandfather would speak of Adelaide fondly. He looked back on her memory with longing and nostalgia. This mistress was an outside person to her family, so she hoped Eloise would provide more insight into who she was.

"I met my grandfather today," Began Rosalie, looking away with a thoughtful expression. "I didn't know what family my momma belonged to, or anything about her in general. I grew up on the road with my father and uncle. He didn't talk about her much. It was too hard for him… but he died recently. I found a group of people who picked me up and I've been travelling with them ever since. We ended up here. Eleanor, my momma's sister approached me down in the French District. I went to the Montgomery plantation and met with my grandfather, as I mentioned before, and he told me that my momma used to spend time here."

She looked around, her eyes following two young boys who chased each other down the hall with loud giggles. "I don't know why I'm here, really. I just thought… maybe you could tell me about her?" Rosalie asked hopefully.

A look of understanding crossed Eloise's face and she nodded. "Ah, and that's how you ended up here… well… I'm sorry to hear 'bout your father's passing. While Addie deserved much better than him, they were smitten with each other. There was no denying the love they shared."

Eloise stood from the table, walked over to the wood-burning stove, and reached for two tin cups. She picked up a tin kettle and poured herself a cup of steaming, dark liquid, the scent of coffee drifting in the air. Glancing over to Rosalie, she nodded to the empty cup. "Coffee?"

"Uh, yes, thank you," Rosalie said, watching as she filled the other cup.

Rosalie looked down, startled at the sight of a young girl with messy, braided hair and sticky, red, and dark purple streaks across her mouth. She held a worn doll in a frayed dress up to Rosalie and smiled, patting her knee with sticky fingers. The girl was around five or six. She looked very young and Rosalie felt her heart ache at the sight of her.

"That's a pretty doll you have," Rosalie said gently, smiling at the girl. "Does she have a name?"

The girl didn't respond and instead waved the doll around again before she set it in Rosalie's lap for her to look at. "Mir gefällt ihr Kleid am besten. Ihr Name ist Amy."

Rosalie blinked in surprise, not having expected the little girl to speak in German of all things. Her German was rusty, but Rosalie could still understand and speak it enough to respond.

"Well, Amy's dress is very pretty…" complimented Rosalie as she smoothed out the wrinkles in the doll's dress. The toy was worn and covered in a sticky substance that Rosalie suspected to be blackberry jam from the smell and color.

At the girl's confusion as she did not understand the English she spoke, Rosalie grimaced, racking her brain for the words. "...Amy ist sehr hübsch?"

The little girl seemed to beam at the praise as her eyes lit up, excited that Rosalie had understood her. She eagerly crawled into Rosalie's lap and smeared jam on her pants as she clambered up. Rosalie blinked in surprise, her lips parting as the girl made herself comfortable, grabbing the doll and bouncing it around on the kitchen table, mumbling something that sounded like she was singing a song to herself in German.

"I see you've met Annie," Said Eloise, coming over with two steaming cups of coffee. She set them on the table, careful to keep Rosalie's cup out of the way of Annie's playing. There was a soft expression on her face as she sat down at the table, watching the girl. "She's a sweet young thing. Her parents died of scarlet fever when she was only a year old. They were German immigrants. I've tried to learn what I could but… it's difficult. I've only known English and nothin' else."

Eloise raised an inquisitive brow. "You seemed to have understood her when she spoke to you. You know German?"

Rosalie's heart ached for the small, innocent girl in her lap who was oblivious to the conversation going on between the adults. "I do. My daddy grew up in Germany as a young boy and came over here with his parents. He lived in Pennsylvania until he was a teenager, surrounded by many other German immigrants until his parents died of some sickness. I'm not sure of what, but German was my daddy's first language. He thought it was important for me to learn it, even if I'm not the best speaker."

Rosalie could see why her mother spent so much time here, as even if those young boys at the steps earlier had got on her nerves, these kids were poor and had no family. Seeing someone like little Annie who was so sweet and so trusting… it made her heart hurt.

Rosalie watched Annie play as she spoke. "It's clear she feels safe here." She hesitated, then asked, "Do many of the children come from similar situations?"

Eloise sighed, glancing around the kitchen as if seeing the ghosts of all the children who had passed through its doors. "Too many. Epidemics, accidents, poverty… there are so many reasons children end up here. But we do our best to make this a home for them. We don't have much and the money we receive from the city is very little." She explained, reaching over to smooth her hand over the back of Annie's head "Your mother would donate money often, but more importantly, she would spend time here with the kids. I think that's what they need most—support from people who will love and care for em'."

Annie suddenly gasped and slid off of Rosalie's lap. She grabbed Rosalie by the hand and tugged, wanting to show her something.

"Oh…?" Rosalie blinked, glancing to Eloise for permission. She didn't budge from the chair, wanting to make sure it was okay.

The mistress waved her off. "Go on. Annie doesn't interact with the other children much as she don't understand them… I'm sure she likes to have someone to talk to. Even a young girl wants to be understood."

With permission, Rosalie stood, allowing Annie to pull her along, giving her a tentative smile.

The girl took her outside, leading Rosalie over to the flowers. She pointed to them, talking about the colors and how she liked to watch the bees fly around them. Annie was a sweet girl, and she spoke like any eight-year-old would, rambling about the flowers and the backyard in German. She mentioned feeling lonely and wanting to play with the other girls, but she didn't understand them, which made her feel weird and annoying.

Rosalie wanted to do something for her, but she wasn't sure what her capabilities were. It wasn't as though she could take Annie with her, as Rosalie only had herself to worry about. Maybe if her father and uncle were still alive… but that wasn't a possibility. Dutch and Hosea had no idea where she went today anyway. If she showed up with a six year old… they might have asked her if she was delirious. Their life was no place for a child.

A few hours later, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Rosalie found herself standing at the back door, speaking with Eloise. The children were still playing in the backyard, their laughter echoing through the open windows. She turned to Eloise, who stood beside her with a warm, appreciative smile

"You have a good heart. Much like your mother." Eloise said, looking out over the playing children. "We don't have much, but I do my best to care for these children."

Rosalie blushed at the comparison to her mother, not expecting Eloise to claim she had a good heart. She knew that wasn't entirely true, as Eloise's thoughts about her father being a cheating outlaw weren't much different from the life Rosalie led now. Spending time with a little girl did not automatically make her a good person.

"I'd like to drop by as much as I can. I don't know how long I'll be in the city, but I'd like to give more of my time. Especially to Annie." Rosalie hummed and folded her arms over her chest, looking out on the playing children, before her gaze slid to Eloise. "If you wouldn't mind, that is."

Eloise smiled. "I think that would be wonderful."

There was a tug on the bottom of her shirt. Rosalie looked down and saw a teary-eyed Annie, who had realized it was time for her to leave. Annie's sad face could make anyone bend to her will, and Rosalie couldn't believe the girl hadn't been adopted yet. If she spoke English, she was sure a wealthy family would have scooped her up by now.

Rosalie crouched down before Annie at the door, smiling at her kindly. "Ich bin bald zurück."

The girl frowned. "Versprechen?" She held her pinkie out, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

Rosalie's smile widened and she linked her pinkie with the little girls. "Ich verspreche." She promised.