Page 42 of The Thorn and the Rose

Rosemarie woke far later than usual the next morning, lulled by a comfortable mattress and a room that was as pretty as it was warm and cosy. She did not know exactly what she had expected when her brother had told her of Gillmont, but she had to admit it was not this. Perhaps she had imagined red velvet and lurid paintings, with scantily clad women reclining on gilded furniture. What she discovered was a sturdy farmhouse redolent with the comforting scent of cooking, and a warm welcome—from George, at least—without so much as a glimmer of censure or even curiosity about why she might be there.

She dragged her unwilling limbs from the warm bed and made use of the pitcher of water on the nightstand before dressing and tidying her hair. She had just slid the last comb into place when there was a knock at the door.

Rosemarie stilled, wondering what to expect. Was that Lord Thomas, and would he expect recompense for his kindness now? Somehow, she could not make herself believe that. Who, then?

“Miss Smith?” A feminine voice reached her through the door. “I have brought you some breakfast.

Rosemarie hurried to the door and opened it, finding a slender young woman with curling blonde hair hefting a heavy tray. “Oh, goodness, do come in and put that down,” Rosemarie said, concern overriding any anxiety about who this woman was.

“Thank you,” the woman said, smiling warmly at her as she set the tray on a small table in front of the bedroom window. “We didn’t know what you might like, so we put a bit of everything on and it was rather heavier than I expected.”

“So you did,” Rosemarie exclaimed, taking in a full plate of eggs and bacon, another of toast, with pots of jam and butter, and selection of cake and sweet rolls, as well as a steaming pot of tea. “There’s enough for three of me.”

The young woman laughed, the sound surprisingly rich and throaty for one of such delicate proportions. “Well, I’ve not eaten yet, so I’ll help if you like, but in my experience, upsetting experiences either ruin your appetite or make you ravenous, so I took no chances.”

“You’re very kind,” Rosemarie said, studying the girl. She could be no more than twenty and was a lovely creature, cornflower blue eyes and pink cheeks, a true English rose. Her accents too were those of a lady, and Rosemarie wondered which of the Sons had been her protector, perhaps still was. Lord Thomas? “Won’t you join me then?”

“Thank you. I’m Elmira, by the way, and you’re Marie, yes?” The girl smiled at her surprise and shrugged as Rosemarie sat down at the table. Elmira took a chair from the dressing table and came to join her. “No one stands on ceremony at Gillmont and news travels fast. We’ve all had our troubles and come here to find a safe haven. We’re all friends, and we stick together, no matter where we came from or why.”

“Y-You have had troubles?” Rosemarie asked tentatively, cutting into a sausage and wondering at the fact she had eaten so well since she had given her fate into another’s hands, temporarily at least.

“Certainly,” Elmira said, still smiling, though there was something that looked very much like regret in her eyes. “But you’ll meet him later, the little devil. He’s just celebrated his second birthday and is the most mischievous child, but we all adore him. When he’s at his naughtiest, I do wish he had a father to take him in hand, though, for I sometimes think I am not equal to the task.”

Rosemarie tried to school her face into one that registered no surprise—for she had known this was what Gillmont was—yet she must have failed.

“Oh, dear. I’ve shocked you,” Elmira said wryly. “I beg your pardon.”

“Oh, no,” Rosemarie said at once, for she had taken an immediate liking to Elmira and did not want her to feel she disapproved. She did not, in fact. The women here had been ill used and set aside, and she had nothing but a tender mix of pity and admiration for the fact they had survived, and were still smiling, judging by Elmira’s demeanour this morning. It made her feel rather ashamed for the depths of misery and despair she had felt of late, when surely this woman must have suffered just as much. “No, indeed. I must beg your pardon if I seemed surprised. It is only I am unused to people speaking so frankly of subjects I am used to regarding as taboo.”

“I know just what you mean. I suspect we have a lot in common,” Elmira said to her with a smile.

Not too much, I hope, Rosemarie thought fervently, though she knew what the woman meant. She recognised herself in Elmira, in her manners and the way she spoke: a gently bred young woman who had been cosseted and protected, until she wasn’t.

“Yes, I’m sure we do. Your little boy…?”

“Arthur,” Elmira said easily, helping herself to a slice of cake.

“A lovely name,” Rosemarie said, studying her plate with great concentration. “His father does not…?”

“No.” Her tone was cold and hard, and Rosemarie glanced up. “His father is not the man I thought he was. I believed he was a good man, but it turned out to be nothing but a pretty façade. He abandoned Arthur and… well, never mind that. We’re here and we’re safe and happy and surrounded by friends. I have discovered what that truly matters, and it is not good manners or pretty frocks but the love and support of people who truly care for you, whether or not they’re kin. You make your own family at Gillmont, and they’re more reliable than blood, let me tell you.”

Rosemarie took another bite of sausage and tried to swallow, but it lodged in her throat and stuck tight. Too shocked to attempt an answer, she lifted the heavy mug of tea but found to her dismay her hands were shaking and set it down again.

“It’s all right.”

Rosemarie looked up to see Elmira’s eyes were full of pity. Her slender hand covered Rosemarie’s. “Whatever has happened in your life, whoever has mistreated you or abandoned you to your fate, none of that matters here. If you trust in us, we will trust in you and help you make a new life, and one I suspect will be happier than you imagine. We see little of their lordships, but they keep us well provisioned, and we lack for nothing.”

Nothing but wedding rings and names for their children.

Rosemarie blinked back unexpected tears. She had not anticipated this, to be welcomed so warmly and without a trace of judgement. It was only now that she considered how her plans would impact those that had made their home here. What would the scandal do to this lovely young woman and her little boy?

It did not take a great deal of imagination and Rosemarie felt a wash of shame for having considered her plan for even a moment. She had thought to expose The Sons of Hades, selling the story of their house of shame to the newspapers so the world could see them for the despicable cads they were, but that would not be what happened. Perhaps they would suffer a little embarrassment, but they were men, and such behaviour was expected of them. It would be Elmira and her child and all the others like her who would bear the shame and censure, and Rosemarie could not do that to them.

Misery washed over her. She had thought the papers would pay well for the lurid details of what went on here and, in shaming the Sons, she would have achieved what her brother could not do. Rosemarie acknowledged herself for the biggest fool alive when she considered she had believed Everett might be satisfied with that and allow them all to carry on with their lives.

“Marie? What’s wrong? You’ve gone white as a sheet.”

Rosemarie shook her head and tried to rally herself, giving Elmira a quick smile. “You’re just so kind, kinder than I had imagined. I don’t know what I expected to find here, but it wasn’t such acceptance and warmth.”