Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

R osie made her way back to Daisy's room. She closed the door softly, trying her best not to wake her. Pulling A Christmas Carol from within her makeshift parcel, she held it to her nose and breathed in deeply. It smelled like Patrick. Well, it smelled like his flat, anyway. And its pages were even imbued with the barest hint of brandy. How could she miss him so much when he'd been in her life such a short time? She held the book tightly against her chest as she lowered herself into the chair in front of the fireplace. A single tear dripped from the corner of her eye, but then a flood of tears quickly followed, and a cascade flowed, like twin rivers, down her cheeks.

It wasn't all about Patrick, though. Rosalyn felt so lost. Even as the tears began to slow, her heart pounded inside her chest. What if she had made a mistake leaving Patrick?

"He's not worth it, love." Daisy sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly.

"Oh, Daisy, I'm so sorry I woke you!"

"It's fine, love. I'd be getting up soon anyway." She gave a sleepy smile and stretched her arms above her head with a groan. She padded across the room and placed a hand on Rosalyn's shoulder. "He's not worth it," she repeated.

Rosalyn wanted to ask who she was talking about, but that would just be insulting. Instead, she simply nodded.

Daisy patted her shoulder. "Let's go eat some breakfast." She tied a silk wrapper around herself and started for the door.

"In our nightclothes?" Rosalyn asked, shocked at the prospect of sitting around a table with other people, in her robe. Daisy's feet were even bare.

"We're all girls here. We've all seen each other in less than this." She waved her hands down her body. "Come on." She nodded toward the door and turned to leave.

Rosalyn pushed herself out of the chair, but the stinging in her eyes reminded her that she'd just been crying and must look a fright.

"But I…" she wiped her hands over her eyes, wetness still causing her lashes to cling together in clumps.

"We've all seen that, too, love. No one will think any less of you. Now stop dallying, or all the raisin scones will be gone, and they're my favorite." She opened the door wide and gestured for Rosalyn to precede her through it. With a deep breath, she straightened her spine, and forced herself to move forward.

Rosalyn followed Daisy down the hall. They didn't enter a dining room, but a large drawing room. A sideboard was filled with fresh fruits, eggs, toast, and the aforementioned scones. It all looked delicious. Women lounged about, plates on their laps or on side tables, their feet up on the furniture and tucked underneath them, all of them in various states of undress. She'd never seen anything like it. Each of them beamed at her as they were introduced, though, and they welcomed her into their group as if she were always a member. They were kind, funny, encouraging, and three of them even hugged her.

As she made her way back to Daisy's bedroom, her stomach full and her cheeks tired from smiling, the fear she'd been drowning in finally seeped away. Everything was going to be well. She was going to be just fine.

* * *

That evening, as Patrick moved around the gaming floor at The Raven's Den, stopping to talk with patrons here and there, his eyes continued to find their way to the Lady Ravens. He was relieved that Rosie was definitely not among them yet. But Ash was right, it wasn't Patrick's decision to make. Rosie needed to decide for herself what kind of life she wanted.

After locking up for the night, Patrick made his way through the semi dark streets. He hardly noticed anything around him until a man, smelling heavily of alcohol, stumbled and collided with his shoulder, shaking him out of his own thoughts. He shoved the man away and quickly checked that he wasn't missing anything from his pockets. It wasn't safe to be so distracted.

Luckily, he arrived home without further incident. Locking the door behind him, he made his way toward his office. No light spilled from under his bedroom door. He had lived in this flat without her for years, so why did it suddenly feel so empty? And why was it, that even though Finch had been the one to greet him upon his arrival every night for more than a dozen years, it was Rosie he caught himself listening for tonight?

He poured himself some brandy and took a swig before placing it on the desk. Carefully he removed his coat and hung it on the back of his chair before collapsing into it. His shoulder throbbed and the bandage could no doubt use changing, but he couldn't very well do it himself. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so quick to send Alfred and Mary home. Shame filled his belly as he remembered his actions. They could only be described as a temper tantrum. He seemed to be having a lot of those lately.

Brandy warmed a path down his throat but didn't wash away the disgust he felt for himself. Perhaps Rosie and Finch were better off without him. He let out a long sigh and scrubbed his hands roughly over his face. This was a dangerous path he was starting down, and feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to fix his problems. He needed to fix his problems. Trying hard to banish the dark thoughts that were threatening to overwhelm him, he downed the rest of his brandy and pushed himself out of the chair. There was nothing he could do at this hour but sleep.

Patrick's first stop in the morning was to see Alfred and Mary, where he apologized for his behavior and offered to increase their salaries by half if they would return to work for him. Mary immediately began talking about the sweets and toys she could buy, but Alfred, ever the professional, tried his best to hide his excitement. Only the briefest hint of a smile and a twinkle in his eyes betrayed the truth.

An hour later, Patrick crept into Finch's room. His eyes were actually open, and much of the swelling in his face had gone down.

"Aww, you brought me flowers," he exclaimed from the bed. "How thoughtful!"

Patrick chuckled and quietly pushed the door closed behind him. "They aren't for you, Finch. They're for Rosie."

"Well then, you're in the wrong room, aren't you?"

"I'm being a coward, if you must know." He placed the flowers on top of the bureau. "How are you holding up?" He asked as he came around to the side of the bed.

"Better than you, by the looks of it."

"Has no one shown you a mirror yet?"

"I could say the same to you. You missed a patch while shaving, and you look as if you've not slept in days."

Patrick smiled. He wasn't wrong about the sleeping part. And even though he was perfectly capable of shaving himself, he sorely missed having Finch around.

"Why don't you just talk to her, Patrick?" Finch shifted uncomfortably in the bed, so Patrick reached under his good arm and helped him to sit up a bit more.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, purposely ignoring the question. Finch shook his head and Patrick seated himself in the nearby chair. It wasn't as simple as just talking to Rosie and smoothing things over.

"Perhaps it's time for me to come home."

"Don't be ridiculous, Finch. You're in no state to be moved. And besides, we both know I'd make a terrible nurse."

"Well that's true enough, but you shouldn't be alone, Patrick."

Patrick let out a long sigh. "I know you're worried about me, Finch, and you have good reason to be." He stood so he could look Finch in the eye. "I promise I won't do anything stupid."

Finch nodded. "Go and talk to her, Patrick."

He stayed and visited with Finch for a few minutes longer before leaving him to get some rest, then he made his way toward the door at the end of the hall. Ash had told him that was where Rosie was staying. Once again playing the coward, he placed the flowers outside her door, along with the note he'd written for her. It said everything he wanted to tell her far better than he'd be able to if he was looking into her eyes.

Propping them up against the wall, he stood and briefly pressed his palm to the surface of the door, before turning and striding back down the corridor. He had done what he came for. What came next was her decision.

* * *

Dearest Rosie,

I hope this letter finds you well. I won't pretend to fully understand why you left the way you did, but I imagine at least part of it had to do with the idea of marrying into a family like mine. I suppose that doesn't sound particularly enticing to me either.

Perhaps it will do us both good to spend some time apart. You can experience life with the other ladies and explore your options for trades that might appeal to you. I trust Ash will keep you safe and well.

If you're open to the idea, I would love the opportunity to see you again. I'd like you to have some time to think on it, so Tuesday next, I'll be outside Siegfried's Ice Parlor at three in the afternoon.

Patrick

Rosalyn finished reading the letter for the second time. It felt so cold. There was no passion or warmth in it. There was a knock on the door before she could think any further on it.

"Come," she called, but was surprised when Ash opened the door. She took an involuntary step backward. His imposing form still made her nervous.

"Good day, Rosie." He gave a polite nod. "Will you please join me in my study? I'd like a word."

"Of course." She pasted a smile on her lips, but as she followed him down the corridor, dread filled her. Was she in trouble? Perhaps he'd changed his mind about her being here and was going to tell her to leave?

"Have a seat," he said, closing the door behind them.

She sat in the chair in front of his desk and waited on tenterhooks for him to be seated across from her.

"How are you settling in?" he asked, resting his clasped hands on top of the large wooden desk.

"Well, I believe." She nodded jerkily. "Daisy has been very kind and all of the other girls have been more than welcoming."

"I'm glad to hear it. Did Daisy go over all of the rules and expectations of the house?"

"Yes." Rosalyn nodded. "Right after breakfast this morning."

"Good, good." He tapped his thumbs together, his eyes not leaving hers. After a moment, one side of his mouth lifted slightly. "Now, we just need to work on this fear you have of me."

Even to her own ears, her laugh sounded slightly panicked. He waited patiently for her to settle, then slowly inhaled and gradually let out a long, relaxing breath. Reflexively, she mimicked him. As she let out her breath, she felt her muscles soften slightly, and the vice around her stomach loosen.

"That's better," he nodded and leaned back in his chair. "You're safe here, Rosie."

She nodded. "Thank you."

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his temple. "Now, the reason I wanted to speak with you is because I've had a bit of a change of heart about you being a Lady Raven."

She should have known being here was too good to be true. "Of course," she said, biting down hard on her lip to keep her chin from trembling. She would not cry in front of him. "May I gather my things and say goodbye to Finch before I go?" It took all her strength to meet his eyes.

He let out a huff and shook his head. "Rosie, what did I just say to you?"

"You said you've changed your mind about me being here."

"No," he said, his eyes blinking slowly. He was obviously exasperated with her, but she wasn't sure why. "That wasn't what I said, but we'll come back to that part… What did I say before that?"

Rosalyn tried to remember, but her mind was scrambled, so she just shrugged.

"I said you're safe here." He met her eyes to make sure she'd heard. "All of the women in this building are under my care, and I take that very seriously. I'm not going to throw you out on the streets."

"I'm sorry. I suppose I just…" Not knowing what else to say, she ended with another shrug and looked down at her hands in her lap.

"I understand, Rosie. Most of the women here came in just like you; wronged by everyone in their life and afraid to believe that they might actually be safe here, because it can't possibly last."

That was exactly how she felt.

"And like you," he continued, "many of them blamed themselves for the bad that had happened to them and believed they didn't deserve better."

"How do you know I feel that way? I mean, I've hardly said a word to you, and yet I feel as if you've just read the thoughts in my mind."

"I've been doing this for a while." The corners of his mouth turned up in a sad smile. "Now," he said, sitting forward, "back to the other part of what I said. I have decided you cannot be a Lady Raven, and it isn't because you've done something wrong or because I don't think you'd do a fine job of it."

Once again, she felt as if he had somehow read her thoughts. "Why, then? And what will I do?"

"As the owners of the club, Patrick, Michael, and I have only a handful of strict rules. One of those rules is that we do not have any kind of romantic relationship with the women who work for us. Since Patrick still wishes to see you, we will just come up with another plan for you."

Only then did she remember the letter, which was now somewhat crumpled, still grasped in her hand. She held it up, "I guess you've read this, then?"

"No. Your private correspondences are none of my business. Patrick and I had a conversation this morning before I allowed him to deliver the letter to you."

Why did he do this? Why was he so kind to her and all these other women? She'd never known a man to be so respectful of women. But even more baffling, why, in spite of his kindness, was she not drawn to him the way she had been with Patrick? Even in the first moments, wrapped in his coat in the hansom cab, she'd relished the smell of his sweet cologne, and the warmth of his body pressed against hers. She'd felt as if she couldn't get close enough to him.

"Thank you." She was on the verge of calling him my lord, but stopped herself. "I don't know what to call you," she admitted.

"Call me Ash."

"Thank you, Ash. I'm not sure I deserve your kindness, but I appreciate it, all the same."

"You're welcome, Rosie." He gave her a nod, and she stood to leave.

"Ella will be teaching a sewing class this afternoon. Daisy can show you which room it's in if you're interested in attending."

"I would love that!" The weight in her stomach lessened significantly with that, and she felt lighter than she had in days as she made her way back to her room.