A Host of Bailey’s
Bash
Always question the man who values power above all else; he has already forgotten what makes him human.
— The Mysterious Deep: A Comprehensive Understanding
Knowing Rose and then Oscar, it was easy to deduce that the Baileys were not the ordinary autocracy of London. Meeting them only confirmed my suspicions. I would have wagered the wraith herself that no family in London laughed as much as the Baileys.
“We had to force her onto the pony, and the whole time she’s begging it not to eat her.” Oscar laughed, tears falling from his eyes.
“I’ll give you all the carrots you could ever want, just please don’t eat me.” Oliver Bailey clapped Oscar on the back as he fought to breathe through his laughter.
“You two are terrible to poor Rose.” Lady Bailey said, though she was fighting her own smile.
“I don’t like horses,” Rose grumbled with her arms crossed.
She sank a little closer into the sofa we sat on, and I fought the urge to pull her into me. To kiss her forehead and tell her I’d give her a horse as a marriage present. However, I couldn’t bring myself to tease her when she was halfway to becoming one with the couch.
“Oliver said I was a natural at my riding lessons,” Rebecca said, chin rising with pride.
“But he said that to me as well,” Ramona said.
The twins, who were entirely indistinguishable from each other, turned incredulous glances to their oldest brother. His laughter died, and he cleared his throat, wrestling with his cravat.
“Two things can be true at once,” he said.
It was hard to see the same Oliver Bailey who glared at me between jail bars, but I understood him better than most men. Forever the oldest Bailey, he loved his family with a fierceness that rivaled the sun. He was unlikely to ever like me, but it wouldn’t be for my lack of character. Instead, it was because of the threat I’d always be to Rose as well as Oscar. I could respect that.
“You two should know by now that Oliver wouldn’t tell you if you were horrid. You two are his weakness.” Ruby smiled, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder.
George Hardy was a stocky man with calloused hands that gave away his class status. He may have married into the Bailey family, but he was a worker. It was in his firm handshake and thestubbled face that smiled too easily, though that may have been a symptom of Bailey's house.
“To be fair, they are adorable,” Oscar said, flashing a smile at the twins.
“They are not,” Roberta said, huffing out a long breath.
There was a hardness to Roberta that didn’t match the other Baileys. Even Richard Bailey was more solemn than the rest, but that was because his mind worked quickly, plotting and calculating every new word. I was willing to bet the young man was bordering on genius, though he said little. Roberta, though, was different. She often watched Rose as she was being teased, cheeks crimson with jealousy. Eighteen was a hard age. Eager to belong, but unsure of who you were.
“So about the wedding-,” Oscar said, voice too high like he rehearsed this line.
I glanced at him, and he shrugged his shoulders in what I’d come to learn was an apology from him. So be it. The sun had long since set, and we could only avoid it for so long. Overall, the day went much better than I expected. I’d been worried Rose would try too hard to be who she thought she needed to be, but instead she settled into herself, confident and stunning.
“What about it?” Lady Bailey said, holding her teacup.
“I was hoping it could be next week. I know it’s soon, but it’s better this way. We can honeymoon while the weather is still nice. I was hoping for a small ceremony anyway. You know I don’t do well with people to begin with. Plus, you don’t have to spend forever planning. I just think-”
“Rosamund, stop talking, please.” Lady Bailey said, a small smile working on her lips. “You don’t have to explain. We can manage just fine if that's what you want.”
Rose sat up straighter, staring at her mother with an open mouth. “You aren’t worried about what people will say?”
Leaning forward, Lady Bailey set down her teacup and folded her arms in her lap.
“I don’t care what people will think. All I care about is what will make you happy,” she said.
Whenever Rose spoke of her mother, there was love, but it was easy to see that Rose feared she would never live up to her expectations. Whatever she believed her mother wanted from her, she was wrong. Seeing her now, watching her daughter and all her children, it couldn’t be more evident. The only thing Ophelia Bailey wanted was for her children to be happy.
The knowledge was poison as much as it was reassuring. I tried very hard not to think about my own mother, but moments like this made her brown eyes flash in my mind. It would remind me that her likeness faded from my memory more every year that passed, no matter how much I tried to nurture it. She would have loved Rose. The two of them would have been as thick as thieves. As always happened when I thought of her, I was reminded why she was gone. Remember who was responsible for her death.
