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“Then do it. Now.” William let go of my wrist, slinking into the crowd of people as the music ended and clapping commenced.
“William!” I called after him, but he’d disappeared into the chaos of the party. I swallowed thickly, turning to face the others. Mrs. Quinn and David sneered, turning my stomach to see the smugness on their faces. David tightened his grip on my hand as he gave a long, drawn out bend at the waist and led me to the dance floor.
I tried to keep my face emotionless, David placing one hand on the small of my back and the other in my right hand. On the inside, I was screaming with every touch, my body fighting to recoil from him. I could barely set my left hand on his shoulder. He seemed genuinely pleased with himself when the Christmas Waltz began. “I hope you know this means nothing, Mr. Quinn. I am only doing this as a charity. Your reputation precedes you.”
“I am afraid I don't know what you mean, Rosemary, but rumor has it you’ve garnered quite the reputation yourself,” David purred, leaning closer to me, his eyes on my lips.
“It isn’t true,” I snapped. I could smell the tobacco and whiskey on his breath, my mouth drying in anxiety.
“Mmmmm, what a shame. I like them with a bit of experience, you know.” He continued to close the distance between us. I recoiled farther back, but as I did, his gaze fell to the swell of my breasts.
“Well, that is quite nice, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling me closer to him. Acid poured through my veins, and I wished I could disappear. I cursed under my breath, straightening my spine despite how closely it brought my face to him. David spun us around in an exaggerated way, no doubt placating any eyes who lingered on us too long.
“What’s wrong, Rosemary? I quite liked the view when you were straining away from me.” He pressed his cheek to mine, his mouth against my ear, and I shivered in disgust. He smiled against me.
“You may call me ‘Miss Abbott,’ we are acquaintances, and it is quite informal and unexpectable for you to address as anything else.” I slathered on the venom, and he simply continued to smile, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear, his hot breath washing over me.“Stop that,” I grit out, pushing off of his chest as I craned my neck around the room for William.
“He left the room once the music started, so there is no use looking for him,Miss Abbott. Women like you are always such an entertainment to me. You think you’re so high and mighty because your family is rich, and you’re well read. Well guess what,Rosemary, you’re no different than Katherine Harold. I bet you know how to work me like she does. Better even, what with that fierceness. You probablyhavelet that rich boy fuck you, haven’t you? I’m rich, too, Rosemary, won’t you let me fuck you?”
“How dare you!” I cried as he whispered and slid his hand across my back, perfectly cupping around my waist. David was not put off in the slightest, taking his other hand around the opposite side, swaying us back and forth. Every inch of my body was touching his. I could barely breathe, his stale scent smothering me.
“I would like to know what that pretty little mouth can do behind closed doors.” Every word he uttered dripping with slime, bile burned the back of my throat. I put two hands on his chest, pushing uselessly against the muscle beneath. Those closest to us began to take notice.
“All is well, all is well,” David crooned, loosening his hold to assume a normal dancing posture, his grip still solid. I scowled as he trailed his hand from my waist, up my side to my breast. Pure rage erupted in my belly, and I detached myself in one quick movement.
“You bastard,” I spat at his feet, gasps came from around us and the music stopped. David threw his hands up in innocence, all the eyes on me. “Don’t you dare touch a woman like that again, or you may well lose your hands.” I turned on my heel, leaving the room, barely registering the voices behind me.
There were so many people in that house, suffocating me with their presence. I could still feel David’s slimy hand as it made its way to my breasts and shuddered as I pushed against several men and the skirts of women I knew until I made it to the dining room where a few of the house staff were filing people in.
Mrs. and Mr. Quinn had quite the dining hall; high ornate ceilings, chandeliers, a table to seat twenty-five. I asked one of the staff if they had seen Mr. Blackwell, but they supplied little help. Sighing through my nose, I rushed through the dining room to the opposite wall, where an archway led to a tight hall. To my left, the hall led to the stairs and the party past that. To my right, there was a small glass door to the courtyard in the back garden.
I could see through the glass that the Quinns had a beautiful fountain there, lit with tiny candles for the occasion. I wondered if Mrs. McCloude was attempting a poor mockery of the finery in her own estate. Opening the door, winter wind enveloped me as I stepped into the night.
Slowly, I descended the steps into the courtyard, and almost instantly regretted not having grabbed my cape and hand warmer. Cold seeped into my joints and bones, pricking my exposed skin. But the sky was clear, save for the tiny diamonds that sparkled in the midnight velvet.
I made my way past the fountain, to the small line of shrubs which led to their orchard beyond. The Quinn estate had something of a labyrinth, an English garden I remember getting lost in as a child. I wandered aimlessly; mind restless. As I rounded corner after corner of thick evergreen shrub, there came the hushed cadence of whispers.
One more bend in the bushes brought in front of me Leslie Quinn, in the arms of her beloved Franklin George. Franklin's hands were resting on her stomach in a telling manner. Shock rippled through me, leaving my lips in a gasp. They pulled apart upon hearing my arrival, steeling themselves, groping the air when I turned to leave.
“Oh, please dear Rosemary, please do not run!” Leslie called in a hush. She beckoned for me, but I was reluctant. After all the rumors they town had spread about me, their focus solely on how wicked I had been to pull an already disinterested man from Greta, they’d missed the most obvious scandal. Not that I would have wanted the town to ruin Leslie. She stepped forward.
“Don't tell her, Leslie. She can't keep a secret to save her life,” Franklin's harsh New York accent chided. That stung, the belief that I could not be trusted, my brows plunged in hurt.
“She’s seen enough, Frank.” Leslie snapped, “Rosemary, you can keep our secret, can't you?” Her brown eyes begged with such insistence. I wrung my hands together, eyes darting between her and Frank. Leslie was such a good woman, picturesque in every way, well accomplished and beloved by most of us in the area. The reality of the situation sunk deep into my chest, the repercussions if anyone knew were well realized.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I confirmed, breath clouding in front of me. I rubbed my trembling hands together uselessly, the fingertips aching in the cold.
“Everyone will soon find out we’re to be married, and after that they can know…” She patted her flat, corseted stomach. My eyes grew wide, and my heart stopped.
“Congratulations,” I said, breathless. “Does your mother know?”
“Yes,” Leslie’s eyebrows stitched together, her lips a thin line. “It was her idea to move the wedding to next month before I become too round. No one else must know, Rosemary,” she said seriously. A tremor rocked my frame. She could be ostracized from society, it’s likely Frank would be forced to leave her, his family not trusting the child was his. She’d lose any hope of security, so indeed the sooner the better.
“I understand, Leslie. You do not have to worry.” I assured her, the both of them, really. Franklin’s eyes bore into me with distrust.
“Thank you, Rosemary. Merry Christmas.” She kissed my cheek, taking Franklin's hand and pulling him back to the house. I blew out a ragged breath, truly freezing, my joints nearly immobile. I had no desire to return to the crowded house, making my way deeper into the garden.
After a few moments, when my feet were sore from the cold, I sat carefully on the snow crusted walkway. Here in the darkness of the bushes, where no one could see me, I could unpack it all. The quiet of winter pressed against my brain, only a buzz in the distance of the merriment in the house. Alone with my thoughts, it was then I could see how out of control everything felt.
