The groundskeeper found her, at dawn, unconscious, in her nightgown at the edge of the pond.
"I fell and hit my head on a rock," she told Cal defiantly.
It was an obvious lie.
"I told you not to go wandering at night."
"I have free will. You aren't my master."
Was she so stupid that she didn't understand? Did she honestly think it was a good idea to go adventuring around, over a property full of hills and trenches and ponds, in the dark, while she was in a delicate condition?
She thought he was trying to control her. She thought she was asserting her independence.
She was an idiot.
*****
He heard her sobbing in the hallway.
She obviously had no idea that he could hear her through the thin walls. Or maybe she thought he wasn't in his study. But he was always in his study at night, and he missed very little.
"Oh, my! What's wrong, miss?"
One of the young maids—Cal thought her name was Anna, Amelia, something like that, although he had never paid her much attention. But he knew her voice.
"I just—I'm so—oh, I just can't take it anymore," Rose sobbed. "I feel like…like I'm sealed in a glass case. Nothing…seems real anymore…"
The maid hushed her. "It's all right, miss…you can talk to me if you'd like…"
Rose sniffled.
Silence.
"I want to die," she choked out at last.
That was what it sounded like, anyway, although Cal couldn't quite hear her whisper.
"Oh, come now! Surely you don't mean that."
"But there's nothing for me. No end to this. I'm going to spend the rest of my life trapped in this house being pushed around and ignored by Cal. He doesn't care about me. My mother doesn't care about me. I have no one to—I need—"
"Shh. It's all right."
"I could deal with it if I'd never known anything else. But I've had a taste of something different and it was—it was torn away from me as soon I thought I was safe—"
"What do you mean?"
Pause.
"I don't know," she murmured at last. "I don't know. But for a moment I felt…I felt alive. And now…I don't…I just feel h-hollow…"
Cal leaned back in his chair and stared at the wall. She was so stupid, trying to be poetic about her feelings, trying to elicit sympathy—
"What are you talking about, miss? Is this about the ship? I know I can't begin to understand how traumatic it must have been for you, but—"
"I don't want to talk about that!" Rose snapped, her voice suddenly sharp.
"I apologize for prying," said the maid. "I only wanted to help."
"It's all Cal's fault."
"What is…Mr. Hockley's fault?"
"Everything," said Rose. "He destroyed my only chance at happiness. He's tried to crush my spirit. He doesn't even realize that I'm human."
"Perhaps you should talk to him."
"He wouldn't understand. He's never understood the first thing about me. I don't think he hears any meaning in a word I say…I'm sure when I speak it's nothing but white noise to him."
"I'm so sorry, miss. I wish there was something I could do to help."
Rose never responded.
*****
Cal left early the next morning on a week-long business trip to Baltimore. Just before he went to catch the train, he told his valet to find the linen maid.
"Who?"
"Don't know her name. She's about twenty. Blond hair. I want a word with her in my study."
She arrived several minutes later. "I was told you wanted to speak with me, sir?" she asked, her eyes flickering nervously around the room.
"Shut the door."
She did.
"I overheard you in the hallway last night speaking with my fiancée."
Color drained from the girl's face. "Yes, sir," she said softly.
"I would thank you to stay out of personal matters that concern only Rose and myself."
"Yes, sir."
"You are dismissed."
"Yes, sir."
She turned to leave.
"I'll allow you the week to make accommodations elsewhere."
She froze. "Sir—"
He smiled. "Yes?"
They stared at each other for a moment.
"Nothing," she said at last, her voice trembling. "Thank you, sir."
She pulled the door shut behind her on her way out.
*****
When he returned home at the end of the week, all traces of the maid were gone. Another girl had been hired as her replacement.
Rose cornered him in the sitting room.
"You dismissed her," she said, her eyes flashing.
"What now?" Cal said distractedly.
"The linen maid! She did nothing wrong!"
"I'll dismiss my employees whenever I want to and for whatever reason I deem appropriate."
Rose clenched her fists. "You dismissed her because she tried to comfort me when I was upset."
"This conversation is over, Rose."
Cal walked out of the room and into the hallway.
She trailed after him.
"No, it isn't," she said loudly as she followed him up to the third floor where his study was. "What, did it make you uncomfortable that someone got a different perspective on you? One that wasn't all about how rich and handsome and charming and perfect you are? You couldn't stand to deal with anyone who might not think you're God—"
"Shut up, Rose."
"I will not shut up!"
Cal stopped in front of his study and turned to look at her. She glared at him. She was breathing hard.
And then, her expression softened. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. It seemed like she was making a deliberate attempt to calm herself.
"I was actually hoping," she said, "that we could talk."
"About?"
She bit her lip. "Well I…I don't think this is working. Any of it."
"I realize you would rather be dead than here with me and that you only came back because you needed financial support. Did you expect something different?"
He opened the study door and waited for her to go in ahead of him.
"I suppose you heard everything I told Annie that night in the hallway." She paused. "Did anything I said…make any sense to you, at all?"
Cal scoffed. "Of course. You're suicidal and you have no hope for the future."
"I'm not suicidal, Cal."
"No?" He raised his voice. "Then what the hell are you, Rose? You're like a ghost wandering down the hallways and disappearing into the night. Sometimes I still believe you're dead even when you're right in front of me."
"I'm not a ghost," she said softly. "I'm someone who needs something that no one here can give me."
"And what's that? You told me you needed money and protection and those are things I can and will give you."
"You don't understand me." Her eyes shone with sudden tears. "You never understood me."
"Perhaps not, but you never tried to help me understand."
"You wouldn't have cared to."
"That was your assumption."
She stared at her lap and smoothed wrinkles from her skirt.
"Your misery doesn't give me pleasure, regardless of whatever you might have told yourself," said Cal, feeling very awkward.
Still she was silent.
"Rose?"
She looked at him. The tears in her eyes threatened to spill. "Then why couldn't you just let me be happy?" she whispered. "Why couldn't you let me go?"
And then she was gone.