Curse of Rose de Winter

Chapter 32

It seemed like everyday was raining and wet and I was tired after reading through the diaries. Even though Dylan was in the office with me, a week of April had passed with no results. I wasn't a detective, after all.

"I miss the sunny days and having fun outside. I miss being away from this house," I said accidentally one day. I meant being alone with Dylan outside, not the house itself.

"Hmm. You're right, after confessing I want to have fun." Dylan grinned.

It made me flush; it was so unlike him!

"But it's drizzling again today," I said quickly. "And I need to read more letters."

"Come on, what's a little rain? They feel nice and fresh, Rose." Dylan held out a hand and with a laugh I grabbed it. "Let's race there."

"Let's take the back door so no one sees!" I included.

"It feels fun to be mischievous, right? I was always a good child when I was young, after all."

"Sounds like a horror. I was the worst child in the village!"

We went through the servants quarters and snuck into the back door, closing it behind us before he held out a coat to shield the rain.

"Why did we not get an umbrella instead?" I asked.

"So it's more romantic, I'm disappointed you didn't know," Dylan laughed.

"Let's run!"

We ran through the grass tickling my bare legs and my blue dress thankfully reached my calves. It wasn't as cold as I thought and the rain was mainly on Dylan as he hovered over me. I laughed as we ran, and it felt like a real dream.

We napped on sunny days, talked about love, and now he's decided he'd be with me. We will find Blanche and throw away all these roles we were casted into without a word.

He saved me, he really did.

We rested in the treehouse, his coat soaked although I was fine. I tossed out the dampness from my hair as he held it.

"There's a story my father told me," I suddenly told Dylan. "My real father. In the story there was a castle with twin princesses. One princess was his true love while the other didn't like him. The prince who came could not distinguish them through their looks so he asked, 'Which princess likes sweets?' He knew the princess who he loved like sweets. That's how he told the princesses apart."

"You know, I always felt like that princess, similar in looks to Rosemarie Blackwood and now Blanche de Winter. I had no personality of my own," I laughed.

"That's not true," he said. "What was the rest of the story?"

"Well, both princesses fell for the prince and one day, when he was finally asking for engagement he said, 'I will marry the princess who loves sweets', and the other princess jumped up and said 'Me!'"

"Sounds like swan lake," Dylan said.

"But it's a funny story. The prince married the wrong sister and had an awful marriage, and the mean princess learned that he was not what she thought he was. Meanwhile the nice princess fell for an honest and good tailor and they married and lived happily ever after," I ended the story.

I recalled my father's face and wondered if I, as the evil princess pretending to be Blanche, would be punished.

"Well, I think you will find a way out. We will find Blanche, so there's be no unhappy ending," Dylan suddenly said, as though he read my thought. "I will be happy with you regardless. You know me and I hope I've learned all there is to you."