by Carré White
Rosalie frowned. “Katherine, what are you talking about?”
“Winslow’s … situation.” Katherine released Rosalie and began twisting the ribbons that decorated her reticule.
Rosalie’s eyes widened in confusion. “I beg your pardon?” Winslow was a successful businessman. He hadn’t mentioned a concern of any kind in his business or otherwise.
“Oh dear, you don’t know?” A ribbon on Katherine’s reticule detached from her rough treatment and she stuffed it inside.
Rosalie could no longer hide her growing irritation and spoke more sharply than she would have wished. “Don’t know what? Katherine …”
Katherine’s hands flailed about as if seeking something new to grab on to. “About Winslow’s mistress.”
“Mistress? What are you talking about?” Rosalie took a calming breath as her agitation grew.
“His mistress.” Katherine shifted on the seat.
“Winslow doesn’t keep a mistress.”
Sadness settled onto Katherine’s face. “Yes, he does and she is … increasing.”
Rosalie jerked away. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“I’m sorry, Rosalie, but I think it might be true. Margaret’s maid is a cousin to the woman’s housekeeper.”
Rosalie flushed with indignation. “I don’t know why Margaret would be so hateful but she is mistaken about my fiancé.”
Katherine sighed. “I hope so. I truly do. But Rosalie, perhaps you’d better ask him. Or maybe bring it up to your mother.”
Rosalie stiffened. “I don't think that’s necessary.”
“I understand it’s a shock, but it’s better to know, isn’t it? People will find something else to gossip about soon enough and it will all fade away.” Katherine tried to catch Rosalie’s hand, but she pulled away.
The carriage came to a stop and the driver jumped down, came around, and opened the door.
“I’ll speak with you soon, Rosalie.” Katherine turned and stepped out of the carriage.
Rosalie nodded, her mind jumbled. Katherine was a good friend. Her best friend. Rosalie didn’t suspect her of lying. However, there were others who found entertainment in the sport of gossip. Apparently, they found it amusing to make her the target of their lies and innuendo.
~*~
Rosalie turned home and retreated to her room after telling her mother she wanted to read. In reality, she dithered and wrung her hands. Why would Margaret make up such a lie? Rosalie was at a loss. She wasn’t close with Margaret, but they’d always been cordial. She could think of no reason for Margaret to want to hurt her by spreading falsehoods. Margaret wasn’t part of the crowd that gossiped for sport.
Rosalie’s first urge was to confront her. She could have a carriage brought around and go to her home. She dismissed that idea immediately. A confrontation would just add fuel to the fire. Overreacting would just add another amusing anecdote to the tale.
Despite her domineering ways, Rosalie’s mother suffered from poor nerves and confiding in her would no doubt bring on an attack. Mrs. Weld would likely castigate Rosalie and then take to her bed. Rosalie hoped no one would take it upon themselves to inform her of the rumors, but she had no confidence in that prospect. Some people delighted in such things, and her mother attended many social events. It was only a matter of time before the rumor reached her ears.
Rosalie felt duty bound to inform Winslow though, and desperately wanted to speak with him. They were attending a charity event that very evening. Embarrassment burned her just at the thought of the subject, but she preferred he hear the unpleasantness from her. Such rumors, even unfounded, might hurt him in his business dealings. Perhaps he would even have an idea how to address it.
~*~
That evening, Rosalie took care with her appearance, donning a new silk gown for the event. Her maid dressed her hair and she met her parents in the front parlor.
Her mother’s expression turned to concern when she saw Rosalie. “You look a bit pale, dear, are you unwell?”
“I’m perfectly fine. It’s been a busy day.” Rosalie tried harder to hide her emotional state. She marked the minutes until she could speak with Winslow. She was sure she could weather the storm with him at her side.
Mrs. Weld looked ready to argue, but her husband took her arm. “We need to go. We don’t want to arrive late.”
“No. Of course not,” Rosalie agreed.
Mr. Weld smiled. “You look lovely, Rosalie. That gown is most becoming.”
“Thank you, Father.” Mr. Weld always worked long hours and Rosalie never spent much time in his company besides dinner. Now that she was older, he often accompanied her mother and herself to social events. When she became engaged, her father had been as proud as anyone, and he’d taken care to treat her more like an adult instead of a child.
Inside the carriage, soft blankets draped over their laps. It was a wintry evening and dress coats were not warm enough. Rosalie was glad when they reached their destination, and she hurried into the warmth. She looked for Winslow immediately, but it didn’t appear he had arrived as yet.
Rosalie avoided being drawn into conversation by skirting the edges of the dance floor at a brisk pace as if she had an important destination. She didn’t care to speak to anyone except Winslow.
After twenty minutes of dodging inquiring glances, Rosalie spied Winslow. He glanced around the room as he passed through the entry and Rosalie caught his eye. He smiled warmly and Rosalie followed his progress to her side.
Winslow stopped in front of her and took her hand. “You are a breath of spring on a cold evening.”
Usually Winslow’s flowery compliments set her heart fluttering, but not today. “Winslow …”
“I find myself in the mood for a dance. Shall we?” Without waiting for a response, Winslow led her onto the dance floor and turned her to the music.
Rosalie didn’t protest, unsure how to proceed. “Winslow, I have something I must speak to you about.”
“Of course, my dear,” Winslow answered in a superior voice.
Why had she never noticed his arrogance before? “It’s difficult to say while dancing.”
“Shall we take a stroll around the room? I believe I saw some enticing pastries.”
“Yes. Perhaps that would be best.” Rosalie didn’t want anyone to overhear them. The last thing she wanted was more gossip.
Winslow eased them out of the path of dancing and toward the refreshments.
Rosalie’s hands itched inside her gloves. “I don’t know how to start.”
Winslow smiled indulgently. “Is it about the wedding? A problem with your dress, perhaps?”
Rosalie wished her concerns were so frivolous. “No. Oh dear. I don’t know how to say this.”
“Please, Rosalie, continue.” Winslow wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes scanned the room, likely hoping to spot someone of importance.
Rosalie’s stomach bubbled with dread. “I went to tea with some of my friends today. I learned there is a disturbing rumor going around.”
Winslow inclined his head as they passed near an acquaintance. “Oh? About what?”
“You.”
“Me?” Winslow appeared genuinely shocked.
Rosalie coughed. “Yes.”
Winslow pulled her to the side. “What have you heard?”
Rosalie took a deep breath. “That you have a mistress and she is … with child.”
Winslow was silent for a moment. “That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry, Rosalie. I didn’t intend for you to know. It’s not a situation one would share with a fiancée.”
Rosalie’s eyes widened with dawning horror. “Are you saying it’s true?”
Winslow looked as if he’d swallowed a bite of bad fish. “It is, unfortunately, true. I am very dismayed to hear the information is spreading. I certainly told no one.”
Rosalie’s heart shattered inside her chest. “But we’re engaged. We’re to be married. How can you be having a child with another woman?�
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Winslow frowned. “Rosalie, she has nothing to do with us.”
“Nothing to do with us! How can you say that?” Rosalie was drowning in a sea of disbelief.
“Lower your voice,” Winslow hissed.
Rosalie clamped her lips together.
“I’ve very sorry that you heard this news. I’m sure it was rather embarrassing for you. I’m not pleased myself this is being bandied about. It’s a rather private matter. However, I’m confident that people’s attention will move onto something else soon.”
“A private matter? You don’t seem to be grasping the essential point, Winslow.” Rosalie swallowed hard. She wanted to scream. How could something so perfect go so wrong? Had she been blind?
“And just what is the point?” he said coolly.
“The point is not that people are talking about us. The point is what they are saying is true!” The idea of Winslow with another woman devastated her. And a child. There was a child.
Winslow shrugged. “Rosalie, you’re young. Many men, particularly unmarried ones, keep a mistress.”
“You are about to be married. Do you plan to give her up?”
The answer was plain on his face and Rosalie gasped in pain. “Winslow? Winslow, do you love me?” He’d never said it straight out, but Rosalie had always attributed that to his natural reticence. She assumed when he proposed marriage that he loved her as she loved him. Now she wondered if he cared at all.
“I am very fond of you. Surely, you know that. Our match is a good one. We will have a good marriage.”
“Winslow, that is not what I asked you.” Rosalie searched her mind for a way to make Winslow understand her feelings. It wasn’t the humiliation, though that was acute. It was the deception—and his plan to continue it.
“Don’t be a goose. Marriages are about financial considerations and social position. That is the way of things.”
Rosalie’s body began to shake and tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back as she faced her fiancé. “I’m going to leave right now, Winslow, before I say something I might sincerely regret. I need time to think.”
“There isn’t anything to think about. The wedding plans are in place. Nothing has changed.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Everything has changed.” Rosalie turned and walked away, keeping her spine stiff. She didn’t look back.
Chapter Two
When the maid brought tea and toast in the morning, Rosalie still felt wretched. She’d cried herself to sleep and her eyes were scratchy and swollen.
“Miss, are you feeling poorly?” the maid asked with concern.
“I suppose I am,” Rosalie responded dully. At this moment, leaving her bed was more than she could entertain.
The maid pushed back the curtains, letting in the morning sun. “Shall I send someone for the doctor?”
Rosalie pushed herself to a sitting position. “No. That won’t be necessary. Please let my mother know I need to speak with her.”
“Of course, miss.” The maid bobbed and left.
Rosalie sipped the tea and her stomach cramped painfully. She placed the cup and saucer on her bedside table.
Mrs. Weld burst through the door. “Rosalie, the maid says you’re ill.”
“No, I’m not ill but I have something important to tell you.” Her parents would be so disappointed. They’d heartily approved of her match with Winslow, but surely they hadn’t known about his moral failings.
“Whatever is the matter?” Mrs. Weld flattened her hand on her chest.
Rosalie braced herself. “Mama … I can’t marry Winslow.”
Confusion clouded her mother’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“If you haven’t heard, I’m sure you will. Winslow has sired a child with another woman.” Rosalie slumped back on the pillows.
Her mother paled and sank into a chair. “Who told you this?”
“I heard the rumor yesterday at tea, but Winslow confirmed it.” The words brought back the pain of Winslow’s indifference and Rosalie fought back tears.
“Oh my dear, I’m so sorry.” Her mother’s voice was heavy with regret.
“Then you can understand why I cannot go through with the marriage.” Breaking her engagement would certainly be a scandal.
“Rosalie, I’m sorry you found out. I’m sorry for your embarrassment. Winslow should be more discreet by far. Regrettably, you are learning an unfortunate truth about men in advance of your marriage. Many men keep,” she paused and coughed delicately, “a convenience. Frankly, you should be glad of it. If he has another outlet for his … needs, you won’t have so many children.” Mrs. Weld’s color heightened as she finished.
“Mother—” Rosalie couldn’t believe her ears. Her mother seemed to think her broken heart an inconvenience to be put aside.
Mrs. Weld raised her hand, forestalling Rosalie’s objections. “I don’t mean to be so blunt, but it is the way of things. You must demand that Winslow be more circumspect in his behavior, but don’t expect that it will change.”
“Mama, I cannot marry a man who doesn’t love me.” Rosalie had counted on her mother’s support, but perhaps she shouldn’t have expected it. They had disagreed on so many other things in the past, but this was so much more important. This was the rest of her life.
“Winslow cares for you in his own way. That is all you can expect.” Her mother waved her hand as if to wipe Rosalie’s concerns away.
“You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly. Your father and I have indulged your romantic notions because there didn’t seem to be any harm. You made a good match. You cannot break it off. If you jilted Winslow, you’d be unlikely to receive another offer.”
Rosalie stared at her mother, aghast and speechless.
“Hold your head high. People will find something else to talk about soon enough.” Her mother swept out of the room, leaving Rosalie to her tea and toast.
Her mother’s reaction, or rather the lack thereof, stunned Rosalie. Getting married to Winslow was an impossibility. He’d as good as told her he didn’t plan to honor their marriage vows. He was having a child with another woman. She wanted nothing further to do with him. Anger and betrayal burned through her. Why didn't her mother understand?
She needed to speak to her father. He was a rather gruff, reserved gentleman, but he wouldn’t want his daughter married to a man of poor character. Would he?
~*~
That evening at dinner, Rosalie waited for an opening to bring up the subject of her marriage. He father droned on and on about business until Rosalie thought she would go mad. She barely touched her food as her anxiety rose.
Finally, her father said, “I’ve finalized a business arrangement with Albert Bonham. We should add him and his wife to the guest list for the wedding.”
“I’ll make a note of it,” Mrs. Weld responded.
“Father, I’d like to talk to you about that, if I may,” Rosalie interjected.
Her mother waved her hand. “Now Rosalie, if you’re going to bring up what I think you are, that subject is closed.”
Mr. Weld cleared his throat. “What subject?”
“My wedding.” Rosalie was not going to allow her mother to divert her.
“Your wedding? What about the wedding?” Mr. Weld’s eyebrows beetled in irritation. Wedding plans were not something that interested him.
“There isn’t going to be one,” Rosalie stated baldly.
Mr. Weld’s fork clanked against his china plate. “What? What is going on here?”
Mrs. Weld wiped her mouth with the corner of her napkin. “Rosalie heard about the unpleasantness regarding Winslow. She’s very young and we’ve sheltered her, as any proper young lady should be. However, I’ve explained to Rosalie her concerns are no cause for breaking an engagement.”
“Is this about the—”
“Yes,” Mrs. Weld interrupted.
Rosalie gasped. “You knew? You both knew?”
“Heard it at my club last week.” Mr. Weld avoided Rosalie’s stunned face.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Rosalie threw her napkin on the table.
“Not dinner conversation material,” her father barked.
“I agree completely,” her mother said. “Let’s change the subject. I’ve been thinking of replacing the drapes in this room.”
Rosalie opened and closed her mouth several times, at a loss as to how to respond. “May I be excused? I’m not feeling well.” Without waiting for an answer, Rosalie left her chair and rushed from the room. In the hall, she broke into a run and dashed up the stairs to her bedroom. She threw herself on the bed and waited for the tears to come, but they didn’t. Humiliation and misery had been replaced by anger. Her whole body vibrated with rage—rage at Winslow for not being the man she thought he was, and rage at her parents for not believing she deserved better.
Her eyes fell on a recent letter from her cousin Audra and she snatched it off her writing desk. Rosalie opened the letter again and reread it.
Dearest Cousin Rosalie —
I hope this letter finds you and your family well in Boston. My husband and I have been preparing for the upcoming winter. We have laid in our food stores and patched the roof. We deem ourselves ready for whatever may come. We have been blessed and are expecting a child around Christmas. In the spring, Lucas plans to add on to our cabin to accommodate our growing family. Our dog, Princess, had puppies again and they are the most delightful creatures, climbing around in the cabin and licking everything in sight.
The leaves have fallen from the cottonwood trees and snow is visible in the mountains, especially on the peaks. It is quite chilly—even at mid-day, but the evergreen trees look beautiful frosted in the morning. We are expecting snow ourselves any day and are surprised it is so late this year. However, we have no complaint regarding the weather, as it makes our tasks easier for the moment.
I was pleased to hear of your engagement to Mr. Dudley. I hope that you find the same happiness in marriage that I have. It must be very exciting to plan such a large wedding, though a good deal of work as well, I imagine.
Please pass my regards to your mother and father.
