Edmund wondered how she could be so calm. That might only happen under the condition that one was used to hearing such names. The thought of someone being so mean to her enraged him ever more. But she seemed so perfectly calm and content, as if it didn’t bother her at all. It was absolutely admirable.
Then, she looked down at Madeline and chuckled.
“But I don’t know what your mother shall think,” she continued explaining. “Madeline… well, she tripped and spilled her tea on the nice lady’s gown.”
Rosalie made sure to accentuate the wordnice lady, even though she didn’t need to do that. All was perfectly clear. Edmund couldn’t hide a smile, as he shook his head.
“She tripped, did she now?” he asked, raking his fingers through his hair, still shaking his head. He didn’t feel that anger any longer. Rosalie’s loving smile made it go away, and all that remained was love. “Whatever shall I do with you, girls?”
Madeline and Cecilia burst into boisterous laughter at the same time. As if conspiring, they huddled close to each other, hiding their faces in their hands as they laughed. Rosalie couldn’t help but join in. The sound that filled the room was melodious, resembling the sound of angels singing.
Edmund was laughing as well, but his heart was in a strange condition. He was hurt, even though nothing had been directly done to him. Hurting Rosalie meant hurting him. He could never allow either of those two things to take place.
‘Well, needless to say, that lady is no longer welcome here,” he announced, to the joy of everyone there.
He had no idea who that woman was, and initially he wanted to find out, but Rosalie’s glance silently urged him not to, and it softened his heart even more. He had never met anyone who cared about others as much as she did. She was so different from the rest of the world, and yet, there were few people more worthy of being loved for just being themselves than her.
He knew that he could not prevent the world from talking, from gossiping, from pointing fingers. What he could do was love her for who she was and show her that she was worthy of someone’s love, the same thing he himself so desperately wanted.
* * *
That very same night, a night as dark as a starless sky, Rosalie found herself opening the door to the library once more. Her heart fluttered at the thought, at the hope, of finding Edmund there.
Just in case, she was holding the book he had gifted her last time, even though she had no intention of giving it back. It was merely there as support, as something that might control her fear and anxiety.
She had been recognized. Those thoughts swarmed inside of her mind for the last several hours not giving her a moment’s peace. Even when she closed her eyes, she could still see that woman staring at her, pointing. She could still hear that woman hissing right into her face. There was no escaping it.
That was why she was in the library so late. The time for truth had finally arrived. She could live under this burden no longer. More and more people would find out she was here, and that would lead to more recognition. Eventually, her lie would be found out. Was it not better for her to reveal it on her own and keep her dignity?
Immediately upon opening the door, the light that came from inside assured her she was not alone. A figure stirred from the armchair, as the light of two candles illuminated the space around it.
Edmund turned to her. His face brightened upon seeing her. She blushed fervently, realizing how inappropriate it was for her to expect to see a gentleman in the middle of the night. Alone. Unchaperoned. She was not a lady by any account, but she still held onto her dignity dearly.
Still, her heart assured her this was the right thing to do.
Tell him. You must tell him.
Her heart whispered. Her mind murmured. They both said the same thing, and Rosalie knew she had to listen. If she didn’t, something terrible might happen. Something terrible would surely happen.
“Rosalie,” Edmund’s warm, welcoming voice filled the room.
“Am I interrupting?” she wondered, entering, as the door closed with a barely audible creaking sound. They were alone. Together.
“You never interrupt,” he smiled. “You can’t sleep again?”
She shook her head silently. She had suffered from mild insomnia her entire life. There was always something keeping her up at night.
Fear. Anxiety. Fretfulness.
Her nights under this roof had been less restless. Her fear had softened. Her anxiety was almost gone. Her fretfulness was still present in her mind, but she consciously allowed it to remain there, for she always needed to remain alert.
“Do you need another book?” he asked, already having stood up and started searching for his next recommendation.
“Actually,” she spoke hesitatingly, “there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”
His face immediately became grave. For a moment, he seemed as if he had been expecting this for a while. Perhaps he already knew something? She tried not to think of that.
He walked over to her, his hand softly caressing her pale cheek. His touch felt cold, but she welcomed it. A voice somewhere deep down reminded her that this might be the last time he chose to touch her. Once he found out the truth, everything might change. Everything would change. Rosalie was certain of that. She couldn’t remain untruthful any longer. The burden was too heavy.
