“You know what?” Rosalie approached her, then caressed Madeline’s cheek. She tried to make that cloud go away, but it wasn’t that easy. “That is a very good point. I’m sure your uncle would love to hear all about that when you see him next time. But, for now, we really should get going.”
That unpleasant feeling in her stomach was still there, and no amount of happy thoughts would make it go away.
“Yes, Miss. Blake,” both girls chirped at the same time, then quickly put away the items they had been using.
Once they were done, they stood before Rosalie, as if for inspection. Rosalie smiled as she approached them.
“Cecilia, let’s just fix your bow a little.”
She bent forward and tightened the red bow that adorned Cecilia’s hair. Madeline’s locks fell, untamed this time. Both girls looked lovely, with their red cheeks and bright, curious eyes.
“Are your dresses nice and clean?” Rosalie asked. The girls quickly nodded, their hands immediately straightening any possible wrinkle in their gowns. “Shoes shiny?” One more nod. “And we are going to behave in front of the Countess’ friend?”
“Yes, Miss. Blake,” they replied in unison once more.
“All right then,” Rosalie urged. “In that case, we are ready to be presented.”
When they reached the door to the parlor, Rosalie gave them a quick once over, and when she was assured that they were all presentable, she knocked on the door softly. The first knock was hesitant. The other, less so.
“Come in!” A familiar voice called from inside.
Rosalie hadn’t seen much of the Countess lately, who despite her age, was still quite an agile woman and wished to continue with her obligations. These often required her to remain in her room. On those occasions, she joined them for lunch, rarely for dinner and breakfast. She took her walks alone, often just around the house, never all the way to the brook.
Once, Rosalie was passing by the Countess’ room, and she thought she’d heard sobbing. She stopped mid-step, and despite her best efforts not to, she approached the door. She managed to resist the urge to press her ear against the wood. The sound quickly disappeared. Rosalie almost thought she had imagined the whole thing, as the silence around her echoed without any trace.
But, that vacant expression in the Countess’ eyes which Rosalie would sometimes catch, assured her that the Countess was grieving. Rosalie knew that feeling all too well. The Countess was grieving the death of her son, the death of her daughter-in-law. She was grieving the happy family life her grandchildren would never have. Rosalie could not understand a mother’s sorrow for a lost child, but she could certainly understand the sadness over a life without family, without the love of both parents.
Rosalie had no recollections of her parents. She wished she did, but in the lack of any actual image, her heart was allowed the liberty to create them on its own. In her memories, her mother always smiled. Her eyes were bright, beaming. Her touch was warm and soft. Her father’s voice was strong and somewhat loud, but it always spoke words of love. His hug was the safest place on earth.
But they didn’t wish to take care of her any longer. She had become a burden for them, someone no longer welcome in their home. Mr. Goosevelt had told her so, and she had no reason to disbelieve him. After all, he had taken such good care of her all her life. But then, something went wrong. Something went terribly, terribly wrong…
“We can go in, Miss. Blake,” Madeline interrupted Rosalie’s thoughts, and she was brought back to the present moment by the girl’s voice.
Rosalie realized that she had been pressing onto the doorknob but wouldn’t open the door.
“Why, yes,” Rosalie nodded, smiling a little confusedly. “Of course. Let us go in.”
She pushed the door open and allowed the girls to go in first, one by one, as if they were in a parade. The girls waltzed in politely, smiling as they did so.
“Ah, my sweethearts!” the Countess gushed upon seeing Madeline and Cecilia.
Her friend remained seated, with her back to the door. She hadn’t seen any of them yet, and it was obvious that she would not turn around. Rosalie knew such people well. Those were the ones whose fingers never pointed, but their stare hurt the most.
Something told her to remain by the door, to remain hidden, out of sight. But she couldn’t, as the girls both took her by the hand, one on each side, and led her towards the Countess. Their hands were warm. Hers were a little cold, clammy. Rosalie could feel her heart beating faster and faster, that unpleasant feeling in her stomach becoming more and more aggressive.
Nothing will happen. I’m just imagining it.
She tried to calm herself down, but her heart wouldn’t listen. It was galloping like a horse determined to win the race at Ascot.
“Girls, Miss. Blake,” the Countess spoke, in her usual cheerful manner, “may I introduce my friend, Miss. Dodgson.”
Rosalie allowed herself to be led right before this woman, who was initially looking at the Countess. The moment her name was announced, she lifted her gaze. First, she noticed the girls. Her eyes narrowed as her lips widened into a smile. Her head tilted a little, as if she was trying to take a better look at them.
However, then her gaze traversed upward, and she saw Rosalie. Immediately, she turned paler than a sheet of paper. In fact, she was almost as ghostly white as Rosalie herself. Jumping up from where she had been sitting, her arms flailed around her torso, as she stumbled backward, in an effort to create more distance between herself and Rosalie, who remained as dignified as she could, under the circumstances.
Rosalie dared not look at either the Countess, or the girls, whose hands were still squeezing both of hers. For that small act of kindness, she was grateful. They refused to let go of her.
“Who on Earth is that!?” Miss. Dodgson’s trembling index finger extended in the direction of Rosalie.
