The Beauty Of Rose

F E U D

A/N:
Q: How do you feel about Rose's idea of escape?
A: I'm so, so, SO proud of her. Whether she ends up with Matthew or not, I'm glad she's decided her self-confidence, and life do not depend on it. What do you think?

Enjoy the chapter.

IIII

"IT IS HARDLY YOUR HOME at all," came a voice. Victoria. She strode out of one of the halls of the mansion. Her midnight tresses were swirled in a bun at the nape of her neck, a stray curl bounced in her face. She wore a burgundy-colored velvet dress, that was particularly tight. It accentuated all of her features, including the small bump she, I realized, was trying desperately to display.

Victoria was giving my family an extremely peculiar expression. It was a countenance that could neither be described as welcoming or uninviting. It could be described as perfectly cool.

"Very well. It is neither your house either, a mistress never owns anything but the possessions bestowed upon her. Expensive little trinkets," I replied with a serene smile. Victoria gazed up at me, eyes glowing with distaste. I merely widened my grin.

"Won't you introduce us Rose?" Sarah asked, in a voice suggesting she was ordering a child. I shook my head.

"Introduce? I couldn't do such such a thing. I didn't even know her name until two days prior from today," I informed. The level of tension in the room raised. I could practically see it. "Well, I spoke, you are all here on Mr. Whitfield's and Victoria's behalf. We all know this marriage will become nothing very soon, I see no reason to get on with formalities."

"You mean manners, dear?" Agnes almost spat. I carelessly lifted my shoulders and lowered them again.

"Whatever you might regard them as. I don't see any reason to conduct myself with 'manners' towards you," I announced. All eyes were on me now. Narrowed, hateful, with lips pinched.

"Why not?" Hector drawled. He strung out all his words purposefully, as if he still had the authority to punish me.

"It is due to the fact that I despise you, I paused, the lot of you."

🥀

I hadn't bothered to stay after I'd said that. I'd walked to my room, and stayed there, until it was time for me to dine in private. And that night, for whatever had been in my mind, I had the strangest urge to visit the garden. So I did. I quietly marveled against the beauty of the petals in the moonlight. It had been but a dry expanse of vegetation when I first married. Dead.

I had changed everything. Removing the roots, fertilizing the soil, planting the seeds. Watering the plants. It had grown into a land with tens and tens of flowers. I had made it beautiful.

Just at that moment, I heard sounds. The sounds that make young girls blush and old men look away. Those sounds. I first felt a flash of annoyance. It was my territory, and I disliked the fact that Matthew and Victoria were...

Well. I suppose you know. Flushed and irritated, I was ready to retreat to my room.

"Victoria," Matthew muttered. Only it wasn't Matthew. The voice was primal and gruff, lacking the calm authority that Matthew's voice possessed. And I recognized it. An ironic smile played on my lips.

Hector.

The noises ceased, but I could still made out labored breathing. Nothing crucial followed, nothing worth noting anyway. They hadn't heard me come, so I was certain they wouldn't hear me go. I left.

🥀

I had a dream that I was standing alongside Matthew's child. He had Victoria's glowing eyes and her black locks. He was a handsome child, but so perfectly disturbing. He screamed, "Harlot" and threw hot oil in my face. I screamed.