Roses in Winter

by Penelope Daniels

  “Rodderick is my husband,” she said. Edward didn’t meet her gaze but she noticed his eyebrows pull together.

  “Was he the one who made the bruises on your back?” he asked, and Alina stiffened at the bluntness of his question.

  “You saw that?” she asked, feeling exposed before him.

  “Does he do that often?”

  Apparently this man had no notion of asking things with any amount of delicacy so she would answer in kind.

  “Yes,” she replied and took another sip of her wine. Edward said nothing in response. He didn’t even look up at her from his soup. It was clear that he felt uncomfortable with her so near, but she could see curiosity in his expression too.

  “Why do you stay with someone who would mistreat you?” he asked.

  His words stirred anger up inside her.

  “I didn’t. That’s why I’m here.” She gave out a sigh. “Things are never as easy as they appear from the outside. I had nowhere to go. For a long time I thought a life under his hand was better than the alternative life of shame.”

  Alina realized that she had said it as if it was in the past. As if she wouldn’t ever live under Rodderick again. The notion gave her strength. And for some reason unknown to her, she suddenly had the desire to tell Edward everything. She’d never told a soul about how things were with her husband, but this man was a stranger, and one she was unlikely to ever see again after leaving this place. One honest answer and Alina was desperate to tell the truth to someone and unburden the secrets she’d carried for so long. She wiped her lips on her napkin and placed her hands in her lap, waiting for her soup to be taken away and the next course to be served.

  “After my father moved our family here,” she said, keeping her eyes on her plate, “he quickly accumulated debts. Rodderick agreed to pay them if he’d consent to us marrying. I thought he was being kind. I was only seventeen and he was handsome and ridiculously wealthy, at least compared to my father. I was thrilled and thought I loved a man I barely knew.”

  Alina paused so that the napkins could serve them a course of fish and potatoes. She dared a glance at Edward and was surprised to see that he had lifted his gaze and was watching her as she spoke, his dark eyes piercing her. She looked to her plate again knowing that she’d not be able to finish the story if she saw any hint of emotion in his expression, no matter what kind.

  “The debts were paid and the wedding ceremony was quick. I’m sure you can guess the rest. He tired of me quickly and I realized that I was just like one of his horses.”

  Alina had thought those words for years, but had never said them out loud before. With a large gulp of wine, she downed the rest of the glass in one mouthful. The floodgates were open now. She knew she was sharing too much, but she couldn’t stop.

  “He’d bought me like he would a broodmare because he liked the unique color of my hair and the way I looked on his arm—the perfect, proper wife. Things didn’t become difficult until he realized that I wasn’t content to be his little wife, to be seen and not heard, to obey his every whim and lift his status in the community by surrendering every aspect of my life to him.”

  Her chin was trembling now and she choked back tears.

  “The worst part isn’t the way he hurts me. It’s the person I become. The way that I turn into a child around him, helpless and afraid, without a backbone to stand with. But I left him and never again will I live in a cage.”

  Motioning for the napkins to refill her glass, Alina glanced at Edward again, trying to read his eyes, but they were dark and impossible to interpret. She realized that she was disappointed. For so long she’d felt invisible and for one moment she wanted someone to see her just as she was, even if he reacted with distaste or pity toward her. Instead there was nothing there at all except cold indifference.

  Her appetite was gone. Alina took another long drink of wine and set her glass down before standing from the table. Edward stood too, like some long forgotten reflex had taken over him, telling him he was supposed to stand when a lady left the room. But Alina was no lady.

  “I’m sorry, Edward. I think I have had too much to drink. Thank you for your invitation. The meal was wonderful.”

  She nodded to the fabrics and walked out of the dining room leaving Edward standing there alone at the head of the table.

  Alina chided herself and made her way up the stairs toward her room. It had been foolish to confess to him and was further proof that she was naive, just as she always had been. Now she desperately wished she could take the words back.

  Reaching her room, Alina closed herself in and stoked the fire from the stack of logs that the scarves had deposited beside the hearth. She got down on her hands and knees, not caring that the ashes would ruin the dress, and blew on the embers until flames caught the dry wood. When the fire was blazing, she slumped onto the bed and removed the pins from her hair, her thoughts filled with regret.

  Speaking of her troubles hadn’t made her feel unburdened. Instead it had brought them rising back to the surface, overwhelming her with memories that she never wanted to think of again. The way Rodderick demeaned her and possessed her and used her to his will. She remembered the anger in his eyes every time she did something wrong and the bite of his rod when he got carried away. He had twisted her mind and she sometimes felt as though she deserved it, even when she knew her husband was simply upset or drunk. It was foolish of her to think that one dinner with a stranger might change any of that.

  Unlacing the dress, she pulled it off and discarded it on the floor, not wanting to feel beautiful, or desirable. Not wanting to feel anything at all.

  When she had stripped to her shift, Alina crawled into the warm bed atop the soft furs and feather pillows. Guilt washed over her as she closed her eyes. Edward had invited her to dinner. He had extended an olive branch and though he had been blunt, nothing he said had been untrue. She had been the one to get upset this time and with her frustration, she had ruined everything.

  Tomorrow she would make amends.

  Chapter Six

  Alina apologized to the handkerchiefs and scarves when they entered her room to dress her in the morning.

  “I know you can just make another one, but I shouldn’t have ruined your beautiful dress in the ashes or discarded it on the floor. It was disrespectful of me.”

  The corners of one of the scarves raised themselves in a sort of shrug and the fabrics descended on the garment. The cloth of the dress tore itself into small squares and swirled up into the air around Alina ready to make her something new for the day.

  “Wait,” she said. “Will you make me something simple? I mean to be working hard and I’m afraid too many skirts will get in the way.”

  The torn bits of cloth, which had paused to listen to her, resumed their motion. After settling on her shift, they began to peel away, vanishing before they hit the floor. As each piece fell aside, Alina was pleased to find herself in a pine green woolen dress with plenty of room for movement. The garment was warm but not restricting and she noticed that a new pair of soft leather boots covered her feet.

  “This is perfect,” she said, giving the scarves a warm smile.

  Alina made the bed before exiting her room with the handkerchiefs and scarves following close behind.

  “I’m sorry you had to see my display last night,” she said, walking down the long hallway to the entrance of the house. “I hope Edward isn’t angry at me again. No matter. I plan on making it up to both of you, if you don’t mind helping me.”

  Alina was walking so quickly that the scarves wrapped around her arms to keep up. There was purpose in her step. After a restless night, she had decided that she needed to take action instead of simply reacting to other people’s decisions. Today she was going to change things.

  Crossing to the entryway, Alina descended the wide marble steps. When she reached the front doors, she turned around and looked at the room.

  It was a grand entrance to be sure—the kind that made a s
tatement impression on any guests who might be visiting—but in its current state, it wasn’t fit to impress anyone. The white marble that covered the floor and stairs appeared dingy and gray under all the dust. The statues were buried beneath curtains of cobwebs while mud and dried leaves dirtied the floor.

  “Can you make me a broom?” Alina asked, holding up her arm and speaking to the scarf that was still wrapped there.

  The fabric unwound itself and poised in the air for a moment as if contemplating her question. Then it fell gracefully to the floor revealing a sturdy broom which tipped over and fell into Alina's hands.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I mean to clean this place and I’d love your help.”

  The handkerchiefs gave a flourish and transformed themselves into feather dusters, hovering in the air and awaiting for her command.

  Alina smiled.

  “Perfect. Let’s start with the entryway and see how much we can get done today.”

  And with that, she watched the dusters dart off and begin flicking themselves over the white statues lining the staircase. Delicately-posed angels with fragile looking wings began to emerge from the dust. Alina smiled and moved to one corner of the room to begin sweeping away the debris.

  It took half an hour to sweep the grand staircase and all the floor below. When she had finished, Alina asked the scarves for a bucket and some brushes and began scrubbing the floors and steps. The handkerchiefs lengthened into long strips of cloth and wound themselves around the marble columns, polishing them back to their original glossy state. The dusters moved on to the porcelain statuettes that stood on tables and pedestals near the doorways. As the hours passed, the rest of the fabrics cleaned anything Alina couldn't reach, polishing the chandeliers and clearing the tall, arching windows to let sunlight into the room.

  When they were finally finished, half the day had passed. Alina collapsed to sit on the bottom step. A handkerchief dropped next to her then flitted aside to reveal a glass of cool water and a little bread and cheese for lunch.

  “We make a wonderful team,” Alina said, raising her glass to the scarfs and taking a sip. “It feels so good to have busy hands.”

  ❄ ❄ ❄

  It had been days since his wife had disappeared and Rodderick was becoming furious. Mary had already approached him with questions about the household since there was no mistress of the house to tend to such things. Alina’s absence was humiliating him in front of the servants.

  Rodderick raised his eyes to the ceiling of the chapel where he sat. What had he ever done to deserve such a disobedient wife? He’d given her a home and nice clothing and had asked little in return, but no matter what he did, she was impenitent. If only she could put aside her foolish pride and subject herself to her husband as the bible taught. Her actions were an affront to God. She didn’t understand that he disciplined her according to God’s will and that discipline was needed to stay on His path.

  Now it was the sabbath and she was to attend church with him but she wasn’t here. His own wife disgraced him by not attending service and requiring him to make excuses for her.

  Rodderick tried to concentrate on the sermon as the priest spoke, but he couldn’t shake the anger and sadness he felt. Alina would surely rot in hell for her disobedience to him and he wanted nothing more than to protect her from God’s wrath. He felt lost with no answers and nowhere to turn.

  After the meeting was over and the crowds shuffled out of the chapel, Rodderick approached the old priest.

  “Father. May I have a word in private?” he asked, straightening his clothing as he spoke.

  “Of course my son. What is troubling you.”

  Rodderick pulled the priest aside, far from the listening ears of the church ladies who might spread gossip about his marital affairs.

  “I will not take too much of your time,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. He waited until the priest stood beside him. “I fear for the eternal salvation of my wife.”

  “Is she guilty of adultery?” the old priest asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rodderick admitted. “She is disobedient and prideful, but I do not know the extent of her sins beyond that.”

  “I did notice you were alone at the service today,” the priest said contemplating the situation. “Mr. Dameron, where is your wife? Let me speak to her and perhaps I can make her understand the will of God.”

  “She is gone and I don’t know where.”

  “Gone?” the priest said. “Against her husband’s wishes? If she is so willful, why have you not chastised her. It is your duty as her husband to keep your hand over her. I see you here weekly and I know you have heard my sermons. If her soul is sent to burn in hell because of your weakness, then it is also your soul which will be at stake. God is clear about his wishes in the Bible and he will not forgive inaction in the last days.”

  Rodderick could say nothing, but clenched his teeth in anger and desperation. The priest seemed to notice the change in his demeanor.

  “All is not lost, my son,” the priest said, placing a reassuring hand on Rodderick’s shoulder. “When she is found, bring her to me. Together we can turn her from her sinful ways and make her see God’s path.”

  Rodderick nodded and shuffled from the chapel. He steeled his jaw and turned from the church crowds, returning to his home to pour himself a stiff drink.

  The priest was right. He could not have his wife disrespect him. If he was to save both of their souls, he would have to be more vigilant. He’d allowed her disobedience to go unchecked, especially at the beginning, and now it had ruined her. Taking his cane to her hadn’t been enough. He’d known it at the time. Her tears had masked the defiance in her eyes and he had fallen for her ruse.

  Taking the box down from the mantle, Rodderick pulled out his pistol and began cleaning it. When the Lord’s day was over, he would find Alina and make her see the light.

  ❄ ❄ ❄

  For the next few days, Alina worked her fingers to the bone and one by one, the dusty rooms of the great house began to shine as they once had. The fabrics no longer dressed Alina in fine gowns and jewels and instead left her in the same woolen dresses she liked for cleaning. She didn’t see Edward except at mealtimes when they had dinner together, something that the fabrics insisted upon.

  He never spoke of the things she had told him. In fact, he barely spoke at all. It was a lonely way to spend the evenings and Alina wondered how he had not gone mad in the silence of this empty place. Or perhaps he had and that was why he sometimes seemed more beast than man—rarely making eye contact and speaking bluntly on those rare occasions when words did escape his lips.

  Besides her apology for her abrupt departure during their first dinner, she sometimes tried to make light conversation, discussing the season, Gladstone, and nothing else of substance. Edward was never rude, but he seldom spoke either. Every time she saw him, it seemed harder to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach. How long would it be before he sent her away?

  On the seventh day since she had awoken in this big house, Alina started her day early, determined to clean the ballroom. She had passed it when scrubbing the hallways and the size of it had daunted her. Now, most of the rest of the manor was already finished and she was prepared to spend all day on it if she needed to.

  The fabrics had dressed her that morning in a simple blue dress and apron and even though the ballroom was empty and quiet, she felt underdressed to be standing in such a grand place. She looked to the side and could see herself, small and plain, reflected in the tall, gilded mirrors.

  The room was beyond elegant, even beneath the dust and cobwebs. Delicate moldings climbed the pillars which held up the tall ceiling. Above, a large fresco of an evening summer sky, the hues of purple streaked with white and pink clouds, made Alina feel as if she wasn’t indoors at all.

  It was intimidating to clean and Alina stood there with her hands on her hips for a long while before knowing where to start. The handkerchiefs gave her the us
ual cleaning supplies before they turned into feather dusters and began flitting about the room.

  Alina was in high spirits and the ballroom echoed in a pleasing way. She soon found herself humming and singing as she worked, cleaning years of dust from every gilded surface. Noticing her good mood, the scarves arched around her and twisted themselves about her bodice. She paused to watch as they fell away to reveal that her dress was now nothing but a cluster of feathers which perfectly matched the handkerchief dusters. Alina laughed with glee and twirled against the columns, flipping her skirts to clean the dust until she was bent over with laughter. She collapsed to the dirty floor, the scarves falling all around her feathery dress.

  ❄ ❄ ❄

  As usual, Edward spent most of his day staying in his room and avoiding Alina, not wanting to subject himself to the way he felt when he looked at her. She was graceful in her movements and neat in her work. He could admit to that. But the things she had told him about her marriage had pained him. He didn’t like to think of her being mistreated, but somehow her story seemed to always be near the front of his mind, bringing up other memories that he’d been trying to forget. At night he’d close his eyes and remembered the way the bruises had looked on her pale skin. Then his mind would jump to memories of his own mother and the bruises that often marked her skin too. He shuddered as he recalled the rage, and sometimes pleasure, that would overcome his father in the act of inflicting pain.

  Though Edward pitied the girl, Alina was nothing but an unpleasant reminder of all that had happened and everything he had lost.

  He needed a drink.

  He looked to the decanter by the fireplace but it was empty. Since this woman had arrived, there had been more reason than usual to drink. Letting out a quiet curse, Edward left his room to retrieve another bottle of brandy.

  As he passed the ballroom on his way to the cellars, he heard laughter and couldn’t stop himself from pausing to listen to the sweet sound. It was a sound he had forgotten. No one had laughed within these walls for at least a decade and now it seemed out of place, like a wrong chord struck in the middle of a song. Something about it made his heart ache and he tried hard to push the feeling aside.