A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Fifty-Three
India was in an uncharacteristically
lighthearted mood the next morning, despite having to return to Lucy's side to
help her dress for the party. "Bill came home last night," she told
her aunt, eyes shining with excitement. "He wasn't supposed to till
today."
Rose was afraid to look at Marie, but nothing
in the older woman's face or voice betrayed disapproval. "I'll bet his
mother was happy. They don't see much of him these days. Hurry up, now, you got
to get your breakfast early." India was only too happy to go.
Rose avoided the mansion, fearing that if she
met up with Bill he'd know what she'd witnessed by the look on her face.
Victoria had extended an invitation to the gala, and she'd accepted out of
politeness, but last night was just another excuse for her to have second
thoughts. There had been no word from Sebastian in weeks and she wasn't feeling
particularly festive. Last year's Christmas seemed ages ago, and the diamond
ring she still wore from time to time weighed heavily on her finger.
As expected Richard, his younger sisters and
Skipper all showed up after breakfast so as not to be underfoot in their own
house. Marie had the day off and offered to take them off Rose's hands more
than once, but Rose declined.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready?"
Marie asked her at around four o'clock. A light snowfall had begun and the
children were outside catching flakes on their tongues.
"I'm not going," Rose replied.
"I'd rather stay here and talk to you than hobnob with those people."
"Even the Rockefellers?" Marie
smiled. "At least you'd have Bill to talk to. I believe he's taken quite a
shine to you."
If the look of astonishment mingled with
guilt on Rose's face gave anything away, Marie didn't notice. She patted Rose's
hand and stood. "I'm going outside, see if I can round up the kids. You
get dressed."
As soon as she left there was a knock at the
door. Bill, come to collect his brother and sisters. It had been awhile since
Rose had seen him—up close, anyway—and he looked remarkably handsome in his
shirt and tails. She didn't look him in the eye.
"You're going tonight, of course,"
he said. "I could use some intelligent conversation."
Rose nodded. "Marie's threatening to
lock the door and not let me back in until the party's over."
"I know this must be hard for you,
celebrating when Sebastian's in Europe somewhere. So many young men are dying
needlessly."
Rose was relieved when the children's return
cut him short.
She dressed in a modest gown with a matching
cape, and left her hair down to avoid the appearance of an old maid. As she
left the cottage, she could see the first guests arriving in their chauffeured
cars. A light burned in every window, and the gently falling snow added to the
mansion's warm and inviting look.
Already the first waltz of the evening had
begun. A waiter approached Rose with a tray of glasses; she gratefully accepted
the champagne and squeezed herself into a corner where she could observe
without being observed in return. But she couldn't remain unnoticed forever.
Victoria spotted her and dragged over an acquaintance.
"Rose, this is Amelia Stewart. She says
she's seen your play, what's it called again?"
She was teetering on the verge of
intoxication, slurring her words so that every s came out in a hiss.
Rose accepted the other woman's guarded compliments while scanning the great
room for Bill. Richard, Josephine and Cecilia were there already, seated at the
children's table with their cousins, and Lucy had just made a diva's grand
entrance, to be immediately swarmed by potential suitors. Their brother was
nowhere to be found.
He didn't arrive until the first course of
the meal was being served. Rose was seated close enough to the head table to
hear him in animated debate with John Rockefeller over recent events in Russia.
"Karl Marx envisioned a classless society. Imagine that! A world in which
the poor would no longer be exploited for the benefit of the wealthy."
Rockefeller chuckled. "A pipe dream at
best, son. This so-called revolution will only lead to chaos, a perfect
opportunity for a dictator to step into the czar's shoes." He tasted a forkful
of smoked salmon, pausing mid-bite with his eye on the door. "What's this?
Did you invite one of the servants to your soirée?"
Bill followed his gaze, and his jaw dropped.
At the other tables conversation lowered to a murmur, then stopped.
India hovered uneasily in the entryway. She'd
changed out of her maid's uniform and donned an exquisite teal gown with a
plunging neckline, narrow waistline and layers of beaded lace over a bustled
skirt. Her only ornaments were a simple strand of pearls about her exposed neck
and shoulders, and a daisy pinned in her hair. The braids had been loosened, to
leave thick locks hanging halfway down her back. She looked absolutely
stunning.
Lucy gasped audibly, at the same instant that
Rose recognized the gown as the very one that didn't fit her the day before.
"Isn't she Lucy's maid?" a
middle-aged woman at Rose's table queried her daughter, who was about Lucy's
age. The girl nodded in the affirmative. "She should be slapped. I don't
know what the Scotts are trying to prove, but I'm not about to dine with
coloreds."
"Maybe young Scott's politics are
rubbing off on his parents," remarked another guest.
India gradually became aware of all the
indignant stares and appeared more frightened than ever. Her eyes wandered over
the crowd until connecting with Bill's, and her lovely face glowed. Bill
grinned broadly and stood, but before he could go to her, an outraged Lucy
shoved him aside and made a beeline for the door, followed closely by their
mother. Lucy grabbed India by the arm and propelled her into the hallway.
William Scott rose, cleared his throat, and
announced, "I'd like to propose a toast to our fine chef Arnolde..."
Bill headed for the door. His father called
to him, "Bill, come say a few words." To the guests he added,
"We all want our offspring to follow in our footsteps, but our son seems
to have found his calling in politics, why, I can't tell you." The
appreciative laughter that followed broke the tension that had fallen over the
room with India's appearance. "Come on, son."
Bill hesitated, glancing at the door. Lucy
and Victoria had not yet returned.
It was Rose who came to his rescue. She
excused herself and exited the room, whispering to Bill as she passed,
"I'll see to India." Bill took the hint and returned to his table,
flashing her a look of gratitude.
Rose found Victoria and Lucy in the midst of
a heated argument in the foyer.
Lucy accused, "India just took off
wearing my gown and Mother won't go after her."
Victoria glanced warily in the direction of the
parlor, where two maids were setting out ashtrays and brandy snifters for those
guests who wanted to enjoy a smoke after dinner. "I'll speak to her aunt
in the morning," she said. "But we mustn't make a scene while
everyone is here, dear."
"I'll never be able to wear that dress
again!" Lucy wailed.
"Why don't I go find her?" Rose
suggested. "I'll get her to return the gown."
Victoria agreed. A flush had risen in her
cheeks and she looked ill. Against Lucy's vehement protests she steered her
daughter back into the great room. Rose retrieved her cape and left the house,
following the pathway across the rear lawn. She was playing a hunch and prayed
it would pan out.
It was nearly impossible to see in the
thicket without sunlight, but Rose found the clearing in the woods easily
enough, guided by India's sobs. She sat on the stump where Bill sometimes
composed his music, head buried in her arms. The flower in her hair had fallen
to the ground and was already covered in snow. Rose's instinct was to back away
and leave her in solitude, but India wore no coat and Rose was afraid she'd
freeze to death.
She approached timidly and draped her cloak
around India's shoulders. The girl looked up and glared at her. "I'm
sorry," said Rose, "I thought you might need this."
"Lucy send you to get her dress? Tell
her she gonna have to come get it herself."
"She doesn't want the dress. It'll never
fit her." Rose knelt at India's side. "I know why you did what you
did."
"You don't know nothing. They invited
you to their party. I worked all day and I won't even get the crumbs off their
table."
"I worked for the Scotts for four years.
My first Christmas here I had to wait on those stuffy people. You know what
else? I was one of them before...before my parents died." India stared straight
ahead and didn't acknowledge that she was listening. Rose plunged ahead.
"When I was your age I fell in love with someone who was considered
beneath me. He ended up changing my whole life." Still no response.
"I know how you feel about Bill, India.
I saw you kissing last night."
India leaped to her feet. "You liar! If
you tell my aunt—"
"I won't tell anyone," Rose said.
She stood and stepped into India's path. "I had all day to tell Marie and
I didn't. I'm on your side." India sniffed.
Rose persisted, "Bill cares for you. He
wanted to come after you, but I came in his place. Now is not the time to
challenge his parents. I admire you both, but you must be prepared. You're
going to face a tremendous amount of opposition. I did, and the man I loved
wasn't of another race."
"They ain't never gonna accept me,"
India said, resigned. "Bill just wants to elope and move far away from
here."
"And you will," Rose assured her.
"Just be ready to face the world on your own. And know that you can call
on me for support anytime."
Rose went to the cottage with India to tell
Marie about her niece's "prank," as they called it, before the news
could reach her by other means. There was no mention of Bill, not that night,
anyway. But Rose fully intended to stand by the couple when they decided to go
public with their romance.
India asked Rose if Sebastian was the man who
changed her life; Rose said he was. No point in telling her what became of her
true first love.