Step right up, ladies and gents! See the ghost woman!
Rosalie remembered how Loveless always forced her to hold a bouquet of flowers in her hands. They were always withered flowers that smelled of a dry, dead heap of roots. They were not even flowers. But the audience was too immersed in her face and her body to pay any attention to the bouquet.
“Miss. Dodgson!” the Countess scolded her friend.
The shock on her face revealed that she never thought someone in her own household would react to another human being like that. Once more, Rosalie felt a wave of gratitude wash over her, that she had been so fortunate to have been found by these kind people who didn’t share the others’ revel in all things different.
“She is a freak!” Miss. Dodgson kept hissing at Rosalie, who remained quiet.
Her face revealed nothing. Rosalie had been well taught to do that. Forced to hide, to suffocate her emotions. She offered no smile. She revealed no rage. Nothing. Just endless indifference, and a pain that had been buried so deep, she couldn’t even feel it any longer. It was easier that way.
This woman’s finger of accusation had awakened all those slumbering memories once more. All the anger. All the hurt. All the shame. Rosalie’s heart ached. A single tear glistened in the corner of her eye, but it wouldn’t fall. It wouldn’t show. Rosalie’s heart raced wildly, making it increasingly hard to breathe. Her cheeks were burning, her ears even more so.
The girls never let go of her. Not even for a single second. Their little hands squeezed hers, their bodies protecting her on both sides. Their shock and surprise merged with Rosalie’s own, three hearts beating as one.
“Miss. Dodgson,” the Countess was the only one who had enough common sense to speak, “I would appreciate it if you would mind your manners in my home.”
Her guest paid no attention to this plea for courtesy. In fact, she seemed not to have heard it at all.
“I saw her.” Miss. Dodgson’s finger still trembled in the air, aimed treacherously at Rosalie. It looked like she had no intention of lowering it. “I saw her… she was one of them!”
“One of who?” the Countess inquired, gazing at Rosalie, then back at her friend. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
“One of those freaks in the freak show!” she explained.
Rosalie felt like lightning had struck her right then and there. Up until this point, she could convince herself that she had escaped her old life. She could deceive herself that all of that was behind her, that she was allowed to have a new life, a better life.
She could see now that all of that was a lie. She had been convincing herself of nothing. All she acquired was more heartache. Now, even worse than ever, because she had the sweet taste of freedom and she would know what it felt like to lose it.
“I assure you, dear Miss. Dodgson, that this sweet woman you see before you is no… freak,” the Countess continued calmly, disliking the fact that she was forced to repeat the word she highly disliked. “In fact, Miss. Blake has been such a blessing with the girls ever since she took up the position as their governess.”
“You allow her near the girls!?” Miss. Dodgson whined loudly, obviously shocked to her very core.
“Let us all calm down,” the Countess urged, walking over to Rosalie, and smiling.
Rosalie wasn’t trembling. Her fear had taken a far worse shape and form than mere trembling of the body. She was paralyzed. Completely unable to move. She breathed simply because it was something her brain remembered to do from before. Otherwise, she would probably drop down, unconscious.
“I’ve heard of those dreadful places, the freak shows,” the Countess seemed to shiver at the mention, “exploiting those who were born somewhat different than the rest of us. I think it is wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. And, for that reason, I shall never visit such a place. I hope to teach my family, especially the girls, the same values.”
Then, she turned to her friend. “Now, I’m certain that you may have seen someone akin to Miss. Blake here, and you were obviously greatly distressed at having that memory surface. I must remind you that Miss. Blake is a valued member of this household, and we shall not have anyone speak of her that way.”
“But… I’m certain I saw her there. She is a freak,” Miss. Dodgson couldn’t let it go, shaking her head at Rosalie. “She is not like us!”
“I am merely different on the outside,” Rosalie finally gathered the courage to speak, even though she could feel the world she had created for herself crumble beneath her feet. “Do we not all bleed in the same color? Doesn’t our heart beat in the same way?”
A strange sense of defiance blossomed inside of her.
If they endeavor to take this away from me, I shall fight with my very last breath.
Her nostrils flared. Her heart started beating even more wildly than before, filled with courage and rebelliousness. The girls’ hands in hers gave her even more bravery to continue, because their little ears were listening.
“It is sad to teach our children to react in this manner to those who are different,” Rosalie continued kindly, surprised at the fact that she wasn’t even upset with this lady. It was the reaction Rosalie had already gotten used to, but this time it was different.
Rosalie didn’t want the girls to see that such injustice should be accepted lightly. She wanted them to see that she herself knew she was different, but she was still a good person, a kind person, a person who didn’t deserve to be called any such derogatory form.
What happened next, surprised everyone. Madeline suddenly let go of Rosalie, then walked over to the little table in the middle of the room.
“I believe that Cece and I should say something here,” she spoke like a little adult, and the look of shock on the Countess’ face was absolutely priceless.
