Curse of Rose de Winter

Chapter 35

When I was Rosemarie Blackwood life was very good—at first. I was given a quaint little room and had the best plush bed of my life, nice cute music boxes, the softest blouses, and the family welcomed me. Andrew Blackwood ate dinner and pretended I was Rosemarie, asking me what I did today or ate today even though I was always home with his wife. Sarah, the one who was truly delusional, hugged me every night, tightly, and said,

"Oh Rosemarie, I had the most horrible dream. It felt like years. Just living a life you weren't in," she would whimper and then she would cry.

I wonder if Andrew knew or if he was delusional like her.

Rosalind was a bit different. She welcomed me not as Rose, but someone she could relate to with not only the loss of a sister but parents. They doted on me in a sickening way, but I could bear it through with the help of Rosalind.

She watched me quietly the first few days, then one day she came into my room.

"Hello," I said, sitting up from the bed quickly.

"Hello—uh, what was your name again?"

"You can call me Rose," I muttered. She watched me carefully and then nodded, slowly.

"Rose. Are you running away from danger?" She had a sharp eye.

"I suppose. Or a hard life." I smiled. "I do unpleasant work, and I was recommended by a certain person to seek refuge here."

"Is it Mr.Auguste de Winter?" she asked as she sat by the edge of my bed, looking at me the whole time.

"Yes." I looked around. "Is your family close to him?"

"Who is he not close to?"

We were both silent before she stretched to break the silence.

"Ah," she pretended to have thought of, "did you hear about the kidnapping?"

I was alarmed. "No, where? What's their name?"

"The kid woke up."

She smiled and it took me a moment before I realized it was the most foolish joke I heard but I was laughing, and she hugged me to her chest.

"Sorry about all of this. I'm Rosalind, they call me Rosa."

"How old are you?" I asked. She seemed to be my age or younger.

"Seventeen. Rose was a year younger, so everyone treated us as twins. What about you? You can be honest."

I had been working for three years and was twenty but still pretending to be fifteen.

"I'm twenty, I suppose you are my little sister then."

"Good," she laughed. "I like being the youngest."

From Rosalind I learned about Rosemarie and their strange household. She said her parents loved Rose, who was charming and brave, to the point she drowned to save a child. I also didn't understand why but Rosalind didn't feel any jealousy towards her. She played cards and checkers (since chess was too hard) and even went outside to gather me flower bouquets.

"Leroy is our cousin," she said when he was coming over, "and I have a crush on him. Pray don't tell anyone! It's usually lonely and when Rose passed he was always by my side. But truth is—I think he loved her."

I still couldn't understand. My sister and I were always at each others throats, physically or verbally, but here were the Blackwood sisters, so fair in love and death.

"I won't marry Leroy, he doesn't love me. I hope he marries someone he truly loves...if only he knew you, I know he'd like you too. The three of us could be so happy." She touched her eye to hide a tear. "Come listen to us talk. You'll love him too."