His Colonial Rose

by Vanessa Brooks

  "Do not fret, my dearest. You are with me and that is all that is important. Everything will fall into place. Believe me when I tell you, everything will turn out all right."

  Chapter Twelve

  Rose sat in her favourite thinking place, the window seat in her bed chamber. Her forehead rested on the icy glass, as she watched the dizzying swirl of snowflakes falling outside.

  Rose thrilled at Benedict's touch but she was confused. She actually felt better after Benedict had spanked her. Oh, she fought him, yes, but secretly found his masculine strength and control of her physically exciting and extremely arousing.

  Her father had never spanked her, not even as a child. Oh, he'd threaten her with a spanking occasionally, but had never followed through with any corporal discipline. Although Rose had been pampered and had wanted for nothing, her father had never shown any real interest in his daughter. To him she was simply an ornament, a pretty little thing to be indulged and then dismissed. Rose had been a lonely little girl after her mother had died. Her friends were her pets and Pippin the best of her companions to date. She adored her little dog; he was confidant, playmate and family.

  Benedict not only wanted to spend his precious masculine time with her, he encouraged her to join him and share in many of his activities. Being included was mentally rewarding to the emotionally neglected Rose. Her fiancée also took the trouble to correct her, comforting her within the circle of his strong arms afterwards. Rose felt cherished in a way that she had never experienced before. Heady and dangerous stuff indeed!

  Rose dressed warmly for the visit to the River Thames. She donned a white ermine lined blue velvet cloak and matching muff, worn over a blue riding habit and white laced boots. Benedict had told her he would bring her some skates to wear on the frozen river. She was nervous since she had never skated before.

  He arrived in his coach an hour after breakfast and collected Rose, accompanied by Eloise, who was somewhat disgruntled to be going out into the arctic chill. She would have much preferred the warmth of the kitchens on a day such as this. Benedict reached under his seat and pulled out two wrapped heated bricks which he placed onto the women's laps. He then draped tartan rugs over their knees to keep them snug and warm.

  Rose was excited and gazed with interest at the sights of London from her place by the carriage window whilst Benedict looked on indulgently. Finally, the carriage halted by the river's edge and the coachman dropped the step and helped Rose down. Her eyes lit up at the colourful scene before her. Vendors had set up booths all along the snow covered banks of the river. Aromas mingled in the air tantalizing the senses. Succulent roasted meats now turning on spits offered a savory bite while crisp apples dipped in golden, bubbly hot toffee promised a sweet, decadent treat. Chestnuts being roasted in hot iron braziers made mouths water and smiles appear with the fond memories of past winter outings.

  Folk stood about the chestnut braziers warming their chilled hands and children ran helter-skelter amongst the adults, throwing snowballs and laughing happily. Out on the frozen river, skaters circled with their colourful scarves flying over their shoulders. To the right of the skaters a large winter market flourished and all manner of goods were for sale in these temporary stalls. It was a merry sight and Rose's heart lifted with joy. She was going to have a lovely day… she just knew it!

  Benedict lifted Rose up from behind without warning. She gave a surprised squeal as he sat her down on the step of the coach and lifted her foot to divest her of her boot. Rose placed her hand on his broad shoulder, to steady herself as he unlaced each boot and replaced it with white skating boots. He swiftly laced each one and set her back onto her feet holding onto her just in case she tipped sideways in her newly acquired skates.

  "How on earth did you guess my shoe size?" she asked, pleased with the fit.

  "Ah, well I asked Eloise to steal a slipper for me and I had them made especially for you. Do you like them, are they comfortable?"

  Rose was touched by the obvious care he'd take on her behalf. "They are so soft and yes, they are very comfortable. Thank you, Benedict."

  Benedict was pleased. "I am glad you like them. They are made from the softest calves' leather; only the best for my Rose!"

  Rose giggled. "Benedict, I must warn you. I've never skated before. Virginia is too warm for the streams to freeze hard enough to be safe."

  "Never fear, my dear, I was skating almost before I could walk so I will be able to support you."

  They left Eloise watching them from the coach as they made their way out onto the ice. It was obvious that she felt the cold since she was hugging both hot bricks as well as wrapped herself up in the tartan travel rugs to keep herself warm. Rose knew that if her companion wasn't concerned about the possibility of smothering, she'd have not even the tip of her nose peeking from her blankets.

  Benedict was not exaggerating about supporting Rose. He practically carried her out on the ice as his strong legs made stroke after stroke. He circled around and ignored the other skaters over to their left. Rose was under the illusion that she had instantly been made able to skate.

  "Oh, Benedict, I don't know what I was so worried about. This is so easy." He threw back his head and laughed. "Benedict, let me go please I want to try and skate by myself. Why, just look at all those girls skating, they are far younger than me!"

  "Rose, those skaters have grown up skating upon the Thames, so be warned, it is not quite as easy as it looks."

  "My, but you're so bossy. Let me go, I say!" She would have stamped her foot but couldn't quite manage it with skates on her feet.

  Benedict leaned down and growled in her ear, "Just remember, my darling, you asked for this." He eased his hands off her and gave Rose a gentle push. At first Rose grinned, thinking phish! There's nothing to this! She even kept her hands tucked confidently into her muff.

  Then the momentum of his push began to wane and Rose slowed down. Now what was she supposed to do? She heard Benedict's chuckle not far behind her. Ooo, laugh would he, sometimes he made her so mad! She would jolly well show him.

  Unbeknownst to Rose, a long line of skaters was approaching from behind. A group of about ten young men and women were all holding hands and the laughing woman on the end was moving very fast around in a circle. They were taking turns playing the game and were bearing down upon Rose.

  Rose suddenly began to feel unsteady and what had been easy now seemed impossible. Her ankles wiggled and waggled and her muff dropped unnoticed to the ice as her hands flailed about trying to regain her balance.

  In a move born of desperation, Rose pushed off with one foot but it signalled disaster. She flipped around like a crazed dancer, her arms thrashing about and her ankles flopping in and out. Benedict called out to her but she was too intent on trying to stay upright to pay him any attention.

  At that moment, the line of skaters came up behind her. Rose wobbled violently, losing her attempt at maintaining an upright position and fell. The result was instant chaos as she collided with the line of skaters. Three of them went flying as she knocked them off their feet. The domino effect was horrifyingly breath taking. Almost as if in slow motion, one by one the skaters toppled into each other until all were lying sprawled on the ice. Arms and legs were tangled in the heap. Stray skaters weren't exempt from the disaster as their speed and proximity allowed them no time to escape. It was a monumental scene of mayhem and at the bottom of the heaving, struggling pile lay one very dismayed, Rose Randolph.

  "Orff, what happened?"

  "Get your elbow out my ribs."

  "You're crushing me."

  "It was that girl… t' wasn't my fault."

  Benedict skated around the resulting mêlée trying to pull Rose free from the wreckage. He finally spotted one of her skating boots, reached down and hauled her out from the pile of other skaters. As her skirt rode up her legs, Rose gave an embarrassed screech. She petulantly pushed it back down as Benedict dragged her away from the stack of now furious skaters.
<
br />   "I tried to warn you…"

  "Darn it, just you shut up, Benedict Lord, whatever your name is. I say that you should have rescued me before disaster struck!" Benedict was laughing so hard he couldn't even hear what Rose was saying. Still chuckling, he pulled her over to the bank of the river so that she could collect herself.

  "You should have seen yourself, Rose. You looked like an absolute goose with your arms flapping about as if trying to fly. I've never seen such a spectacular fall and ending up underneath so many! I was afraid you'd be rather flattened by all those others as they tumbled on top of you." Benedict was now bent over as he was laughing so much and tears of merriment ran unchecked down his cold and ruddy cheeks.

  Rose sat on the cold snow bank and watched him as he laughed. A small giggle escaped her and then another, until finally she joined in the hilarity. She reached into the snow and made a nice fat snowball. With a sly smile, she lifted her weapon of choice and smashed it over his face. Her giggles increased as he sputtered to clear the snow from his mouth and then wiped the rest off his face, his laughter continuing.

  "Forgive me for calling you a silly goose, madam. It is just that I shall never forget this day. This has got to be the most fun I've ever had out on the ice."

  Rose beamed up at him as he reached down to help her stand again. "You better not let go of me next time around, you handsome swine."

  "Don't worry, my dear, I shall hold onto you for dear life, if only for the safety of the other skaters!" Rose gave him a playful punch. "Come I'll guide you over to the market stalls. You may choose anything you wish, my darling."

  Benedict and Rose went over to the winter market and Benedict bought them both a bag of hot chestnuts to share. The vendor placed butter on the heated nuts and then shook salt on them. Benedict peeled them, popping the hot earthy treats into Rose's open mouth. They finished the welcome snack and wandered about the varied and colourful market stalls.

  Rose moved excitedly from vendor to vendor; there was just so much to see, so many different goods for sale. Finally, Rose spotted a stall laden with painted wooden headed dolls. They were soft bodied and stuffed with rags but dressed in pretty clothes. Each doll had a different painted face and hair colour. As she perused the myriad of choice available, Rose noticed a ragged child huddled near the edge of the stall. She looked to be half-starved but her eyes were wide as she gazed at the coveted toys. The tiny girl seemed to be focused on a yellow haired doll with a smiling mouth and dressed in a frothy pink dress.

  Rose picked up the doll and asked how much. "Penny," the unsmiling stall holder told her.

  Passing over a penny, Rose hunkered down beside the child, holding out the doll to her. "For you, my little chickadee."

  The small girl's eyes grew round as she touched the doll's smiling lips with a tiny finger. "Me bruvver will take it an' sell it, missus," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  "Where is your mother, my dear?" Rose asked with concern.

  "Dead, an' me farvver too... Well, he says as he's me bruvver but he has a lot of little kids what calls 'im bruvver, so I dunno if he really is me bruvver." Rose glanced up at Benedict with a stricken look on her face and Benedict sighed. He knew exactly what was going to come next. Perhaps he had been foolhardy when he said that Rose could have anything she wanted from the market! He also knew that should he take in every urchin that roamed the London streets, he would quickly become as poor and as useless to them as they were to one another now. Rose's next words confirmed his very thought and he scowled darkly at her as she made her request.

  "Oh Benedict, we cannot possibly just leave the poor child here to starve… or even worse…"

  "Rose, there are thousands of children like this child and you cannot care for them all. Give her the doll and I will give her a shilling, it is more than any of them hope for in a month of Sunday's!"

  Not the least bit satisfied with his response as he countermanded her, Rose made her own countermove. Giving him a look to convey her concern for the poor child, she said, "I will take her into my household then and Eloise can train her up as a ladies maid. That way she will always have gainful employment."

  Benedict did something he had never done before meeting Rose, he rolled his eyes. He knew that he was beaten. 'Choose your battles', his father used to mutter after cross words with Lady Beatrice, Benedict's mother.

  "Very well," he sighed, "I see that you must, we will take her over to the coach and she can wait with Eloise while we continue to look around."

  "Thank you, Benedict!" Rose's green eyes, shined up at him adoringly. "Do you think I might buy her some warm clothing? Look, there is a children's clothing stall just over that way!" Rose pointed her finger. Benedict sighed deeply, today was not going according to plan, no, not at all. With another eye roll, he wrapped his arm about her waist and escorted Rose and the child over to the stall.

  Benedict sat in the coach on the return journey with a fixed look upon his face. Rose had dragged him from one stall to another, and bought item after item for the little guttersnipe. The child had quickly become distressed and didn't understand what was happening. A large crowd had eventually gathered.

  The girl's so called 'brother' had arrived with two ruffians in tow and after that, things had turned sour, very sour indeed. None of it was made any better by Rose shrieking at the child's 'brother' and hitting one of the thugs hard upon the head with the wooden headed doll. Benedict had finally smoothed things over by shelling out an inordinate amount of money, which could have bought the entire market place had he so desired.

  Rose looked up and thought she saw Benedict grind his teeth together. She looked down at the floor of the carriage and recalled the words she had shrieked at the ruffians. What had she called them? Ah yes... 'stinking pieces of gallow bait'.

  Rose looked over to where Benedict sat with a strange rather strangled look upon his usually calm and handsome face. He kept making the oddest noises too, it was as if he wanted to speak but his lips were glued together.

  Her gaze then roamed to her tiny protégé and she smiled. Nancy, for that was the child's given name, was leaning against Eloise, her thumb plugged into her mouth, eyes closed and she was sound asleep. Rose's heart swelled with love. She would take care of the tiny mite and she would suffer no more. Indeed, Nancy would thrive under her own tender ministrations. Rose realized that she had had a truly wonderful day today and bestowed Benedict with a beatific smile. Strangely Benedict did not smile back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Beatrice had the megrim. Benedict would not be moved from this utterly ridiculous idea that he and Rose should be married in the tiny chapel at Merriton. Just how were they to accommodate four hundred plus guests? Whoever they uninvited would see their dismissal from the invitation list, as 'The Cut', the greatest insult imaginable to a member of the elite aristocratic English 'le bon ton'.

  Add to that, the reluctance everyone would have at leaving London and venturing across country in the middle of winter. Merriton Hall would be freezing cold at this time of the year; the house having been closed up for the winter after the family left for London in the autumn. Beatrice decided enough was enough and took to her bed ordering that tea to be sent to her chambers.

  Benedict wanted to take Rose out for the evening on Saturday. He needed to sweeten her up so that she was able to accept the bad news. The Lord Chancellor, no doubt instructed by the King himself, had refused his request to hold their wedding at Merriton. Benedict knew it would be a weight off his mother's mind when she heard the news, but he felt it only fair that Rose should hear about this turn of events before anyone else. He dreaded her reaction on hearing that she would have to walk down the aisle at Westminster Abbey in front of the Royal family and most of the English aristocracy. Benedict groaned; why was this wedding proving so difficult? He knew the answer of course, Rose. She was unused to the pomp and ceremony that all the English ton were bought up with, naturally accepting the rigid protocol that surrounded t
he peer system in England. He would just have to be patient with her.

  Benedict sent a footman to Wilton Crescent to deliver a note informing Rose and her father that he would collect them both on Saturday night to take them to The Haymarket Theatre to see the current opera. The Waterman was not a production that Benedict would have chosen by choice but it was the only one in London being performed at the present time.

  Rose was busy settling Nancy into her new home under Eloise's watchful eye. Eloise had made it plain that she thought no good would come of giving the girl ideas above her station. Rose had summarily dismissed Eloise's concerns and had ensconced the child in a guest bedroom along the corridor from her own chambers. Nancy appeared bewildered by her sudden change in circumstance, and as a consequence, was frequently naughty.

  Rose indulged her but Eloise stood no nonsense from the child. She was firm, consistent and fair with Nancy, and as a result, Nancy trusted Eloise and obeyed her instructions. Rose was a little put out that her new protégé preferred the company of her ladies maid to her own and she tried to bribe the child with treats of every description. Finally, the decision was taken from her by her father.

  Henry had been out all morning only to return to the room he had taken to use as his study to find an unholy mess everywhere. Nancy had found the quill and inkwell on top of the desk, and upon opening up the heavy drawers within the desk, she had discovered paper—rather a lot of paper. Unfortunately, these papers were the final draft for a speech on the present unsettled situation out in the colonies. Henry had been invited to give a talk to a select body of merchants, bankers, and other men of business as well as politicians, led by none other than Lord North himself.