Rumor had it that Roselee Eversea was a woman with everything to fear, now that the world had been pulled out from under her feet.
Rose, however, felt quite the opposite.
Now that she had been forced into surrendering to the worst outcome imaginable for a once married woman, what other grim reality could scare her now?
She gave her heart blindly to one Prince Charming, butever afterisn't for the deserved in every Welsh fairy tale, and she would accept that her life after it would be very different from now on.
A divorced woman-even the miserable wife of a legitimately cruel husband-wouldn't be spared from any exclusion or scandal in high society, nor that deplorably salty narrative that somehow, in the end, it was all her own fault that he threw her away.
They liked calling her a "New Woman". Only a pitch above that other damming word for an unmarried, untamed woman; "whore".
But not by much.
Maybe if she had been a dutiful wife to the end (and if no longer dutiful, at the very least a quieter one) and just accepted that a man must get a return on what he's invested in (namely, her) perhaps she might've "turned a blind eye" and not interfered with Mr. Charles Eversea taking what she could never give him.
Perhaps then, her abrupt one-way ticket from Wales for her indefinite stay in Liverpool would actually be the joyous reunion the ladies at her table were desperately pretending it was.
But Rose was too observant to assume the tension around her table was all thanks to her lead in Bridge.
Miss Dina Evans wouldn't stop sneaking fascinated glances at Rose across the table. Amazed by "how well" Rose was taking it, as if she'd expected any woman in Rose's position to do as the eastern women do, and take their own life rather than face such relentless social shame. Divorcees were rare, a presentation of freaks, in a society where girls like her were still forced to endure it "For England".
Perhaps, in that respect, Charles had showed her mercy by falling out of love with her.
But not by much.
"How very brave you are taking it all, our Rose", Miss Dina had said, dabbing the corner of her eyes too many times for Rose's liking.
"I'm afraid I can't see it that way. Had I been given another choice, I can't say I'm brave enough to choose this again," Rose had told her. "I'm only doing what I must."
Mrs. Paralee Alexander was warm and accommodating of her old school friend as usual, but nervous. Rose could see it in the way she made a fuss over her, and the way she overcompensated taking the lead in all their discussions that afternoon, praying no one mentioned the words "disjoined", "halved", "battered", "abandoned", or "found wanting" in front of Rose.
Rose despised it.
She knew Para meant to save her from anymore heartache, but all of society was tiptoeing around Rose these days, as if she were a shattered vase in an exhibit.
"Damaged goods".
She would never again be just "Mrs. Charles Eversea" anymore, but "the divorcee".
No matter how devastatingly he had broken her, the end of her marriage would always be her fault in the eyes of everyone else who wasn't there in that house with Charles.
And now that society had named her an outlier, the last thing Rose wanted was to be treated any differently by her friends, even for all their little extra kindnesses.
All she wanted was to forget the world against her, and play Bridge like they did as girls back at Lucie Clayton.
Because she had just won her fourth trick in a no-trump bid, which now put Rose in lead of the game.
"40 below the line, please," she requested that hers and Para's score be modified, as she collected her winning trick.
Paralee dummied her cards flat on the table, face up for Rose to select her bid for the next round.
But the move didn't distract Para long enough from pursuing their politely heated argument she would not let go of.
"Rose will stay here with me," she insisted to Dina. "We have the room. It's only Georgie and I, now that David is 4th Officer aboard Olympic again. I would love her company. Our poor Rose didn't have time to pack any of her belongings before hurrying away from Wales, and I have plenty I don't wear anymore here that she can try on. So many beautiful gowns I had ordered to wear to the officers' balls that I never wore once I was carrying Georgie."
"No, my dear Para, I insist, taking Rose back to London with me is no trouble," Miss Dina assured her. "There are fewer people who know of her situation there and she will have to endure less chatter. I will let her choose some of my own gowns in the meantime. You have little Georgie to worry about now. I don't mind taking Mrs. Eversea under my wing. There is plenty for a lady to do in London, and I know a lady, who knows a lady, who knows a school mistress looking for a mentor for her girls. It won't be the opulent life Mrs. Eversea had in Wales, but it will suit her mind."
"Definitely not. You have enough to worry about choosing a suitable husband in London, and taking such a delicate matter onto your shoulders...it will only complicate marriage more for you," Para pointed out. "I can't allow you to take on such a...such a...that is to say, a-"
"Risk?" Rose offered her own opinion to the debate. "That is what I am to both of you. I'm a scandal, at best, and a liability, at my worst. So, no matter how direful you see my circumstances, I will not let them turn on you because you've opened your homes to me."
"Rose, that's not-"
"It's reality, Para," Rose insisted her point. "I go down as captain of my own ship, and I won't take you under with me."
"You are captain, and we are your officers. Where you go, captain, we follow," Para insisted further. "Because we all know fully, that should any of us girls stand at the helm of a doomed ship as captains do, none of us would from our own lifeboat watch the other sink. We won't abandon you, no matter how society talks."
"Think only of Georgie," Rose reminded her friend gently. "If he follows his father into the Royal Navy one day, our actionsreflecton him. If I had been fortunate enough to have a child, I'd want him to have the best chance at everything. So, I'm asking you both, for Georgie's sake, send me away."
"But you have no more family. Where else would you go?"
"America, of course."
"America?" Para asked, appalled. "How is it you'd rather leave behind everything you love to live alone in another country than accept help from your dearest friends?"
"If I stay in England, leaving Charles means my story is already over. At least in America, no one will know the new chapter I'm walking into is an epilogue to the one I walked out of. I can rewrite me from the beginning there."
"But...how are you so sure that, even in this dark point of your story, fate isn't already writing a new chapter for you as we speak?" Para beckoned Rose to reconsider. "What if you're not walking into an epilogue, but right out of the middle of your own story?"
The door to the Alexanders' drawing room opened quietly, but Para hardly noticed her attending housemaid walk toward Miss Dina, carrying a silver serving tray with a single envelope and a handtied posy of white Hawthorn flowers resting on top.
"She's right, you know," Dina agreed readily with Para. "Who's to say that you'll get what you want in America? What if everything you want is still right here in England? Your friends. Your most beloved places. Perhaps even, another chance at an unforgettable love-"
"Too soon, my dear," Para cut Dina off promptly, mercifully saving Rose the trouble. "This isn'tThe Lady of Camellias. Rose is living quite a differentreality."
"Your answer, miss," the housemaid set the letter serving tray in front of Miss Dina, who appeared mildly surprised.
"Dear lord, already? How keen that Mr. Harvey is," Miss Dina rolled her eyes. "Why is it always the ones I don't fancy thatwrite me back instantly? I only just rejected his calling card this morning, and he sends back a bouquet of hawthorns? Thick as mince, these men are."
"White hawthorns, to boot?" Para eyed them curiously. "Wasn't it only last week that he wrote to say how very pitiful he feels loving an unattainable woman for so long, and how he's safely given up on you. What's Mr. Harvey mean to say by all this fine talk now?"
"The devil should I know. The man is obsessed with me," Dina sighed, tossing the letter aside uninterested to Para. "He's far too peculiar to even guess what keeps that man ticking. If you mean to win a woman over, send her a rose, for God's sake. Not a cheap and cheerful buttercup."
"It may not look like a rose, but itisindeeda rose, Miss Dina," Rose told her. "It being my namesake, you have it on good authority that a hawthorn blossom is not a buttercup, but a member of the rose family. And a declaration of love and devotion isn't the only reasonan admirer might send a lady hawthorns. White hawthorns can mean hope or well wishes for new beginnings. The flower might even represent a promise of protection from Mr. Harvey in seeing you overcome particularly difficult hardships. And after that, he seems to wish you never forget the beauty in living that still remains after those difficult times are gone. So, forgive me, but the way I interpret it, there is no stronger declaration of devotion than a hawthorn flower. Nothing more captivating about a man than constancy. Does any of this fit your Mr. Harvey?"
"Certainly not!" Dina cried. "That man could scarcely tell you his left foot from his right, let alone remember to send flowers."
"She has a point," Para agreed, examining the envelope herself. "Lissy, didn't they give you a name?"
"There was no name, Mrs. Alexander," the housemaid answered her. "A boy with an empty basket rang the bell and handed it off to me just a few minutes ago. Said he sells flowers on Queens Drive. Canterbury bells, marigolds, hawthorns, daisies, carnations, honeysuckle and the like. He said a giant of a gentleman stopped him while he was selling his basket on the street, and said he'd pay him double for the whole of his basket, if he delivered that letter straight away for him. The lad said he was so happy, he'd cut and run, and forgot to ask the gentleman his name."
"I see. It seems it's come from White Star."
And Mrs. Paralee Alexander's brow perked ever curiously as she turned the neat little envelope over and noted their first clue. The red shipping company flag with the white star in the middle, identical to the ones she got from David on his tours.
Para slid the letter opener across the familiar emblem sealing the back of the envelope.
"Well, that leaves our muttonhead Mr. Harvey out," Dina seemed greatly relieved to be out of the fire. "Maybe it's from your husband."
"David hasn't even gone to sea yet, and besides that, this handwriting is far too disciplined to be his. For one, this author has consistently firm pen pressure, modestly sized words, and quite an elegant right-favored slant to his letters. David, on the other hand, makes every letter big and extravagant and all about him. I can't say enough how refreshing it feels tobreathe easy when reading a letter with good open spaces between lines."
And after crossing her and Miss Dina Evans off the dwindling list of the letter's intended, Para's blue eyes brightened in realization as she glanced up again at her unwitting guest, who was now more interested in counting out the winning Bridge tricks still left forgotten on their table.
"Rose?" Para softly broke Rose's steady train of counting. "Perhaps?"
Rose's eyes were like buttered chestnut in the sunny lit drawing room when they turned up to Para from her cards.
Not the sort of maple sugary brown that men can't stop writing poetry about, but the earthy tone that made Paralee think of the timeless willows surrounding the schoolyard they all grew up in. The kind of bark that is centuries strong and rooted deep.
"You think it was sent for me?" Rose guessed Para's unlikely assumption. Glancing first at Para, then Dina, then the mysterious letter in question. "Why would anyone write to me at your house? No one knows I'm here. It can't be me...can it?"
And after being trapped in a numbing fog of melancholy for weeks, Rose's heart suddenly skipped as her attention turned back to the beautiful, fresh white Hawthorns laying against the Mahagony wood of their table.
"Charles?"was the first thought that stole her breath away.
But if he had somehow had a change of heart about his decision, and realized his mistake, and thereafter persevered across the whole United Kingdom to find his wife, discovering at last that she was staying with Para in Liverpool, on her way to America...had he really sent the letter?
Wasn't that just the fantasy she'd been dreaming up every time she fell asleep on a wet pillow soaked by her tears?
Why would anyone as headstrong and self-interested as Charles come looking for her?
To tease her about the power he held over her?
To fool himself into believing she'd ever take him back now?
To throw Hawthorns and sorry letters at her feet, and swear how deeply he loved herunknowingly all along?
A hope for a new beginning.
Was he asking for her forgiveness?
"Dear Madam,"Paralee began reading the letter aloud."We do not know each other, and it is long odds that we would ever become personally acquainted. Not the less, I hope you will pardon me for this sudden and unusual correspondence from a total stranger.
"Sparing you the particulars, we were once very nearly in the same place at the same time aboard the RMS Cedric. I am one of the ship's complements. Our last day of the voyage, I went down to the mail room to post just a few lines to my sister to expect me to arrive safely in Liverpool. While waiting on the mail clerk to take my letter, it was by happenstance that I caught the honeyed scent of winter heather, not at all like that distinct smell of paper known only to mailrooms."
"Dear Lord," Dina side-eyed Rose, grinning. "That's quite romantic. He even guessed correctly that it washeather."
"The RMS Cedric, it says?" it was Para's turn next to side-eye Rose. "Wasn't that not the ship David recommended me to book for your crossing here? You met a gentleman aboard?"
"I made no acquaintance with any man."
"Well, I say, letters from eligible bachelors don't just fall out of the sky," Dina remarked with a knowing smile. "And certainly not without inspiration."
And wasn't Roselee Eversea just the muse to launch a thousand ships?
"If you've never met him, then who on earth is he?" Para asked Rose curiously.
"I couldn't say," Roselee shook her head.
But her friend's Gibson girl tilted doubtfully, taking Rose's denial as a sign of modesty rather than the truth. "Rose. Come now."
"I swear, I can't," Rose tried to convince her. "I could scarcely pull myself out of bed to wash and take a meal, let alone have it in me to socialize or make any sort of impression on any gentleman aboard that ship."
"Well, he writes quite passionately for an unknown fellow."
"He shouldn't have taken the trouble," Rose insisted, meaning that to be the end of it. "And not another word about it."
Though, she knew exactly how it looked.
How right Paralee was to be suspicious.
Roselee had only just sat down to their first game of Bridge and tea together since school, and not even after two days of arriving in Liverpool, letters from mysterious gentlemen abroad were already falling into Rose's lap.
"Are you sure you weren't up to more than you let on aboard the Cedric?" Dina's brow rose to the divorcee, who had unexpectedly become her quiet competitor for catching dotingletters in Liverpool. "It's quite a rare gesture for any man to take."
"I hardly said a word to anyone," Rose assured them both. "I had no heart to, really."
"And yet you're being pined for by a sailor?" Paralee teased her.
"A widower too, by the looks of it," Dina remarked, scanning the letter where Para left off. "And likely some years older than her."
Para snatched the letter back from Dina.
"We mustn't butt in," she reminded her friend, folding the letter again for privacy. "This letter wasn't meant for us. He wrote it for Rose."
"No, it was not meant for Rose either," Rose countered. "It's more likely his imagination carried him away, and he wrote it for a woman unlike me, who has never been in my position. He's probably some hopeless romantic who dreamed up the perfect girl, with perfect proportions, perfect connections, perfect circumstances, and the perfect temper to entertain this sort of adventure. Had he seen me in person and learned what scandal I am caught up in, he wouldn't have given me a second thought."
"Will you not at least read the letter fully before you assume so much of him?" Para beckoned her, offering the letter to Rose, which her friend hesitated to take. "You might find it comforting to know he does not sound like a young man chasing after some starry-eyed girl. He is honest with you completely about hisown shortfalls. And besides that, I don't see anything wrong with a widower or him being an older man. He's likely established. Well-travelled and worldly wise. Andexperienced."
"In every respect," Dina remarked, winking at Rose. "He mentions that he has four children, which means he's quite nurturing."
"Quite a dream for a man indeed," Rose remarked. "I thinkyoushould write him, Dina. Don't thank me."
And deciding she wouldn't be told twice, Dina's clawing fingernails gradually spidered their way across the table toward the letter.
"Don't even think about it," Para swatted the back of Dina's hand with her fanned cards. "I do believe she said she doesn't want our help in any case, remember? Rose is a brick of a girl. Let her sort this out."
"You're being impossible," Rose shook her head.
"The only thing impossible is that you will never rise out of your broken heart with time. And perhaps, with a littlepush, much sooner," Para teased her. "You never know, Rose. He could very well be the Albert to your Victoria."
"Won't you both stop?" Rose threatened them playfully. "I will leave, if you don't, and take none of your unworn expensive dresses with me. What of it then?"
"A ship's complement," Para ignored her, as she smiled and pondered on with Dina. "Who do you suppose that could be, Miss Evans?"
"It might possibly be anyone," Dina presented a list of culprits. "Fireman, able bodied seaman, vitualer, gallery Cook."
"Hardly suitable for our Rose's situation. We must shoot for the stars. A Purser? An officer, perhaps? Or a shipbuilder? A captain? I've a mind to ask David. He's familiar with all the White Star officers."
"No," Rose quickly stopped her ambitious friend, blushing hot in the heat of so much sudden attention. "I've not been here two days, and you both are already trying to marry me off again? And to a mariner, of all the men in Liverpool?"
"The early bird catches the fish, Rose," Dina reminded her. "A Liverpool season isbrutallycompetitive."
"I amnothere to find another husband."
"A Mr. H, huh?" Para turned back to Dina. "What might thisHstand for? Harold? Harrison? Hagrid?"
"Para!"
"Or Henry, perhaps?" Para went on guessing. "How many of those do we know in Liverpool, Miss Evans?"
"Hmph," Dina remarked, counting out the stack of extra cards from the mail tray the housemaid provided for their letter writing convenience. "How many calling cards can you spare?"
"She can't part withone," Rose answered firmly.
"As many as it takes to find a handsome widower, with 4 children, who we hope may be a captain for White Star, whose first name might begin with anH," Para egged Dina on.
"Oh, don't fret, Iwill notrest until I've foundthis 'captain' for our Rose," Dina promised her. "Maybe your Mr. Alexander can help us solve the mystery? When is the soonest you can see your husband before he goes with the Olympic to sea? We must strike while the iron is hot. Even eligible widowers are snatched out of the marriage market in a blink these days."
"If I put off my crossing to America for the time being," Rose bargained with them. "Will you two forget all about Mr. H? There's no need to marry me off to a stranger to ensure I stay longer in England with you. I will do that regardless, because you are my 'officers'. You are my only true friends. But I beg you to understand that I do not need to know that man's identity. Not in this melancholy season of my life."
"But you will write him back, won't you?" Para beckoned her.
"Of course not."
"Then pass him along," Dina said, reaching again for the twice rejected envelope.
"Ehem," Paralee cleared her throat, and her stern gaze didn't let up until Dina's hands reluctantly withdrew again to her side of the table.
"Rose, you are your own woman now. You no longer need to keep seeing yourself as Mrs. Roselee Eversea. There's no reason for you to feel that you are being unfaithful to Charles for choosing your own happiness," Para told her gently. "He thinks himself so happy in Wales with his mistress. Wouldn't it be the best revenge if he were to find out you've moved on, and are happy now too?"
"I don't want revenge," Rose answered her quietly. "If they are happy together, that's all I want for Charles. Why should we both feel miserable?"
"And why should you be the one out of the both of you?" Para countered. "Of course, I tease you only because of my affection for you. But what if not every man is as self-infatuated as Mr. Eversea? What if the kindness, and forethought, and reverence that this Mr. H showed in this letter to you is everything you deserved from the very beginning? Whether husband or secret letter companion, isn't it comforting knowing how keenly someone desires to study and understand you-your thoughts, your feelings, your passions?Write him."
"I can't," Rose whispered. "Anonymous or not, it wouldn't be proper, under any context. And it isn't just the thought of our exchanged letters falling into the wrong hands...But I fear we may only use each other for the love we have lost. And because of that, I can not promise him that my heart would ever truly be in it...I can't promise him anything...Only that the chore of letter writing won't likely keep my interest for long. Everything feels like a chore to my heart lately."
"Then only one letter, at least?" Para suggested hopefully. "Just a short reply to thank him and tell him why you can not be his pen mate. After penning such a moving letter, the man at least deserves an answer."
Rose sighed, her fingers caging around the neat stack of playing cards again.
"Shall we then?" she said, dealing them each a new hand for their next round. "If you win, Mr. H gets his answer from me. If I win, I do as I like, the way I like, withno interference."
Because for a"new woman"who has everything to fear, the only way left for her to take nowwas to stepbravely into theunknown.