Winter's Rose ~A Beauty and the Beast Retelling~

The Escape

The manor never seemed to be colder. Her aunt had sent Andrew along with Steven on business for the month of May. Aggie made some excuse that she was in the market for some horses, and who knew the breed better than Andrew. In reality, Aggie was buying herself time to find Rosalind a husband and get her married. Her aunt seemed to have informants all over the country side--she received many a man's resume as if she was hiring for a position. A massive pile was beginning to form on her desk. Rosalind would occasionally be invited into the search, but that was a rare occurrence.

Annalise had sent a letter in secret to Silas. According to her, the address was in the city a few miles for her. Rosalind asked how she had managed to get the letter out without raising suspicion... Annalise alluded to her flirting with the butler who regularly took out and picked up the mail. Annalise described him as a funny looking man with short red hair who had begun to bald on the back of his head. The thought made Rosalind's nose crinkle. A month had passed and still there was no word from Silas.

Rosalind had dictated the letter to Annalise. Never once did she tell of her current state or did she write of William. Rosalind simply asked Annalise to write a note saying that she was desperate to visit her cousin Selene and her husband Silas--and was wondering if they could arrange a place for her to stay. It was cryptic--the whole letter was. She had Annalise sign her name if hopes that if would catch Silas' eye. Of course Annalise and Rosalind had no idea if this was indeed the Silas they had been searching for. Part of her was paranoid that Andrew or someone had intercepted the letter and she was purely waiting on a phantom letter.

In her heart, Rosalind knew that if she was going to have William's child she wanted him or her to be surrounded by people that could tell the child of his or her father. Silas would have stories of William in his childhood and young Ben would be able to act as an adoptive older brother. Rosalind swore to herself that she would not let the memory of William die; her child would know its father somehow or someway. His legacy would exceed her lifetime.

In Rosalind's dreams, she would see William and their child. Some place where it was warm and welcoming. In some dreams it was a daughter in others a son--they would always be playing in the garden outside some home that she assumed was the one they shared. Rosalind wanted so badly to have this dream as her reality. She often wondered what he would name the child--if he would adopt Silas' love of names and pick something with a meaning or if he'd pick a name of a relative that he had been close to.

Rosalind walked in the warm spring air along-side Annalise. The two women had been softly sorting matters of how they could get into the city. Annalise had suggested making a seamstress appointment to get measure for a larger dress. Rosalind liked the idea of it, but worried it wouldn't buy them enough time to disappear. She supposed that she should write and letter to her aunt explaining that she did not want to be followed--she thought that she at least owed her that. Rosalind warmly rested her hand atop her growing belly. The child had been active--creating soft tickling sensations in Rosalind. Every time it happened she smiled widely and wished she could allow Annalise to feel, but she learned that no one else was able to feel the movements yet.

Often she wonders if the baby can hear her speak. While she had Annalise to talk to she likes having pleasant little talks her growing bump. Life is a beautiful thing--she never understood how you could love someone so unconditionally when you haven't even met them. She didn't understand how a little baby could grow so fast, yes it had been nearly five months, but her stomach continued to grow.

Her aunt requested that she made the trip down to her study. Her sickness had begun to wane and now she was able to survive the day without getting horribly sick. Although, her aunt's perfume ridden study still made her stomach quite queasy. The plush chairs facing Aggie's desk lacked the support that Rosalind would have liked. Her back had begun to pain her under the stress of the baby growth. She could feel the ripples forming in the skin--Annalise told her that they were called stretch marks; her mother had been a midwife. Rosalind loved them--it meant her baby was growing healthily.