19. Please, Believe Me

1 October 1889

Dear future husband,

I am being sent to a boarding school first thing tomorrow morning. As I write this letter to you, my maids are packing my muslins and linens into several valises and chests. We have only just returned from London, yet I must leave my home again. And not only my home, but my dearest Papa! How shall I cope? When she was here, Mama told me that my first time packing a trunk should be my trousseau for when I went to reside with my husband in his house. Well, she was quite wrong, as she may have been about many things. I am weeping at my desk as I pen this epistle to you. I can scarcely see the page and I pray this might be legible to you. But first, before I continue with my missive, I must inform you of the dreadful, most horrid, and simply horrendous incident that has led to this exile from my beloved Grenledge!

Yet even before I inform you of that event, I must first set the record straight and state for you the truth, plainly and clearly. Sterling Bennett is no gentleman, neither in the conventional, land-owning sense, nor in the unconventional, modern, and chivalrous sense. He is a completely dastardly rascal, a spineless coward, a blackguard if there ever was one, and a complete monster! Please, let not my heavy emotion lead you to believe that I am biased, even if you do see the tear stains on this parchment. I must have you know that he is a man entirely unworthy of a lady's affection, time, love, or even one whit of her attention. Sterling Bennett simply cannot be trusted.

A knock sounded at the door, causing Rosalie to jump about a foot in the air. She dried her tears as best as she could with her handkerchief, then turned to face the intruder. She stood from her nearly-empty desk and tucked the letter into a drawer of her desk. "Who is it?"

"Anna," came her friend's-former friend's?-voice. "Or rather, Miss Carver, to you."

As a maid went to open the door, Anna's red curls, tucked beneath a pale yellow scarf, bobbed into view. Rosalie gripped a handful of her blue skirts. "Anna, please... Do not behave so coldly toward me."

"Why should I treat as a friend a girl who has made it clear that she is my enemy? You have betrayed me in the worst way, Miss Winthrop," Anna said, her brown eyes red-rimmed, her face splotchy. They had both shed tears that wrenched their souls over the same scoundrel's actions. Yet it was those actions that caused Rosalie's agony now as well as her loss of a friend

"Please believe me, Anna... Miss Carver... You must know that I never intended to hurt you." Every piercing glare that Anna launched in Rosalie's direction felt like another dagger of ice finding its way between her ribs and into her heart. She had never wanted to harm Anna, her dearest friend. "It was not my fault..."

"How dare you play the innocent, Rosalie! How dare you pretend and behave as though you are the victim in this little tableau, when you seduced my fiance! You were the only one whom I entrusted with my secret and you betrayed me," Anna spat, her expression a venomous mask contorted with fury. Her brown eyes blazed with an intensity that made Rosalie wonder if the fires of Hell could be any hotter. It called to mind the Shakespearean maxim: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But Rosalie was not the one responsible for any scorning, and she would not allow herself to be accused in such a brutal and unforgiving manner.

"Sterling Bennett is the one who kissed me and locked the door! He is the one who wished to trap himself in a room alone with me so that he could have my father declare that the scandal and loss of virtue would be too much for society to bear. He did all of that, so he could worm his way into my dowry," Rosalie shouted, more tears springing to her eyes. By now, at least the maids had had the decency to vacate the room, though Rosalie had no doubt that they were all listening with their ears pressed against the door. "Do not for a moment attempt to say that I am the one who wished for anything romantic to happen between us."

"Then why did you sound so apprehensive when I told you that we were betrothed?" Anna demanded, folding her arms across the lace-trimmed bodice of her gown. "Were you not envious of me?"

A sharp rap sounded at the door, causing both girls to whip their heads over. It was her Papa. "Rosalie, are you ready to leave?"

Anna's shoulders slumped. "I only came here to return this."

Rosalie's broken heart splintered into smithereens when she saw what was in Anna's hand: the valentine that Rosalie had made for her when they had exchanged them in February. She sadly snatched it back, tucking it away with the unfinished letter.

"I shall miss you," Rosalie murmured, fixing her eyes on the ground. "And I wish for you to understand that I am truly regretful that we had to end our friendship this way."

Anna shook her head. "If you truly had regrets, you would never have hurt me to begin with, let alone deny your actions."

With that, she flounced out of the room.

***

Even my dearest friend, Anna, does not believe that I was the one who was the recipient of such unwanted advances by Sterling Bennett, and instead maintains the total and utter deception that I would attempt to wrest her true love away from her. You must know that I would never even think about vying for a man who is already enamoured or otherwise entangled with another. My heart simply would not be able to bear the guilt of such a heinous act.

Sterling even had the gall, after we were discovered, to say that I was the one who made advances on him! And I am not so sure that even my Papa believes that I am telling the truth when I say that his actions toward me were entirely inappropriate. I would never set out to betray my only friend in such a manner, nor to compromise my own reputation and integrity by kissing such a rake as Sterling Bennett. If I ever set sight on him again, I shall give him a sound slap across the face.

Please, I pray that you do not allow this incident to colour your view of me. Should you think less of me, that I am impure or tainted by one unprincipled man's behaviour, I shall never be able to endure it. I beg of you.

I pray that you are not undergoing the same trials that I find myself suffering through. May the Lord bless you with His perfect peace, guard your heart from pain, and keep you safe. May He ensure that you are happy, healthy and well-loved. May no one ever slander you the way that I am being falsely accused and may you be believed when you speak the truth. With all the love I can muster, I remain

Sincerely yours,

Rosalie Winthrop

***

Putting down the quill and folding the letter into thirds, Rosalie cast a glance around the now-empty room. Her clothing, a handful of accessories, and her writing implements had been packed and put away neatly. Selecting a lace handkerchief, she carefully used it to wrap the valentine that Anna had returned. She had done enough weeping and mourning for today. As she picked up her Bible, the pages opened to the Psalms. Rosalie's eyes fell onto the passage, "For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."

Still, as she said her prayers, did her toilette, and went to bed, it was very difficult to remember God's promise. Lying awake, she stared at the canopy above her, wondering what boarding school would be like. Another knock reached her ears, and she rolled onto one side. "Papa?" she said hopefully.

It was Lord Winthrop's shadow that passed through the lit doorway. "May I enter?"

She sat up immediately, swinging her feet over the side of the bed. "Of course, Papa."

He took long strides into the room. "How are you faring, my dear?"

"Papa, why are you sending me away?" Her promise to herself that she would not cry anymore failed her. She broke it almost immediately. "Have I done something wrong?"

"I need to protect you." In the dim light, his face looked gaunt and almost miserable as he patted her shoulder. What was wrong with him? She sensed there was something more to this than Sterling Bennett. "I can only do that by sending you to boarding school, my dear. But fear not, you shall return home during Michaelmas and Christmas and all the holidays."

"I have never been so far away from you before, Papa." She buried her face in his chest, holding back another sob. "What if I become terribly homesick?"

"You may write to me as often as you like," he promised her. "And I am sure you shall make many friends at Sherborne."

Sherborne sounded like a foreign land. Magical, perhaps, but as distant from Grenledge as possible. Still, it would be better than dealing with the fallout of everything that had happened today. "Good night, Papa."

"Good night, Rosalie."