Curse of Rose de Winter

Chapter 45

The first times I met them I was in awe of the Blackwoods. They called me Rose and gave me what was her favorite food, and I only wore what she had in her closet. Thankfully they adjusted dresses as I was a few sizes bigger. Rose also grew up wearing a girdle so her waist was small, and soon I was wearing that. Using all of her old things.

I was surprised by Sarah and Andrew, too.

Sarah Blackwood was a plain looking and aged woman with platinum hair, plump and always crocheting or making doilies. She must've had it bad, because soon the pretending became real for her. She reminisced about Rose's childhood to me and sometimes created stories.

Sometimes I'd get invisible suitors. Sometimes Rosalind and I fought although we never did. Sometimes I broke a vase I didn't even know about since I only stayed in my room.

Andrew Blackwood had the black hair her daughter Rose inherited, although his was now streaked with grey. He was a tall man and perfect image of a fatherly figure. He was quieter and less imaginative than Sarah, but maybe that's why he could not interact with me more than calling me Rose and asking how my day was.

Andrew was similar to my father and I saw some of my real father in him. That desperation for his family.

I always stayed in that room and tried to swallow down the fear of that doll. No, doll wouldn't be the right word.

Rosemarie.

***

Dylan, Vaughn, and to their chagrin, Irene, was ready to go with me the day we were visiting. The weather was nice and we rode a car.

Vaughn was driving and humming. I missed cars—Auguste drove me sometimes and Sal Mazzanti owned a flashy and ugly car that was apparently really expensive. All men were envious of his car. Women and cars were the only things men collected.

"Is it already June?" I realized after a while. It was two days away. I didn't get Rosalind a gift, and she was a May baby so the date had passed.

The sky was bright blue, no cloud in sight, and it stretched endlessly after the horizon.

It was only a few minutes before we reached the gloomy Tudor-style house that housed the Blackwood family. I took Vaughns's hand as he stepped down and Dylan held a hand out to Irene.

I told Irene to dress me up and make up my face. I wore a depressing black dress with heels. My lips were painted rouge and my hair curled and tied back. The Blackwoods would hardly recognize me.

Vaughn rang the door and there their butler opened the door.

He proceeded to show us into the parlor room.

I had missed it. The tacky floral purple curtains, the tacky carpet with golden embroidery, the small table and the one maid they had came and gave us tea. I missed it.

But I wouldn't return.

I can't.

There were footsteps and Sarah, Andrew, and Rosalind came downstairs.

Sarah had one look at me before she screamed.

"Rose! No, Rose! Stop—stop looking like that!" She sobbed and turned to cry into Andrew's chest, convulsing with each word. "Rose," she wailed.

"Sarah, I'm not Rose."

I smiled and Rosalind ran to me, hugging me without sharing a word. She had grown taller, I think even taller than me now. She was soft and looked at me with those lovely green eyes. So bright and so melancholic.