03 - resolute

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Meet Wyatt Dover Benson. 

Meet Felix Schubert.

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Rose breathed in deeply as she walked between small trees in the garden with Leslie behind the Bensons' large castle-like home. The garden connected with a forest in the further back. It was quiet enough to hear birds chirp. A sound Rose hadn't heard in the busy streets of London in forever. It was relaxing and she wanted to enjoy this moment as long as she could. The morning had been quiet and uneventful, which she had enjoyed, having time to think thoroughly over her situation.

Leslie had informed her that Alder would leave to Manchester tomorrow morning, so she wouldn't be seeing him around for a while. And Golda Benson was a woman to meet up with her friends frequently. In short, this family never stayed in their house. These were good news. Not having to deal with them would always be better than having to please them as the Esmé she wasn't.

The garden was heavy with roses. The one thing Rose did enjoy so far, were all the flowers and paintings this house was covered in, embellishing it. It was refreshing and nostalgic at the same time. It resembled her home in 2020 a little bit. Her mother loved plants and paintings, too. Of course, the Davies' house was much smaller yet it still had the same atmosphere. But it was much more welcoming.

"Wow," Rose blurted out, spotting two horses alfresco. "You didn't tell me, we have these here!" Rose rushed over, watching the peaceful creatures with amazement sparkling in her eyes. One was white, the other a nice light brown. They looked majestic.

"Well," Leslie followed Rose, "You like to go into the forest with them." She stated. Rose whirled around.

"Me?" Leslie nodded, smiling.

"But the white one is new."

"Oh," Rose held her hand out, caressing the white one.

"This is Schimmel, my Lady." An old man walked to their right. He moved closer, bowing his head. Rose watched him, returning the small gesture with a warm smile. He was a butler, Rose recognized by his attire. The classical suit for a majordomo. Black with a matching tie.

"This is Felix Schubert." Leslie whispered, "He is the Bensons' butler." Rose looked at him, eying him from head to toe. He was tall and fit even, although you could tell, he had aged. His smile was sincere and so was the glimpse in his eyes.

"She just arrived from Saudi Arabia." He explained.

"Schimmel is German, right?" Rose asked him.

"And so is your name. Schubert comes from Schuhmann." He nodded, surprised.

Mr Schubert stared at Rose confused, unable to respond. His eyes moved to the horse, "My Lady," He smiled warmly again, "You knew that I was German but I didn't know that you looked into it further."

She didn't. Rose knew a lot about Germany. Her father had been German. Daniel Wagner. Rose had his hazel eyes. And being reminded that she grew up without seeing him ever, or without being able to recall one single memory with him, wavered her sometimes. But there was no need to tear up in front of people she didn't know. People she couldn't tell the truth about who she was.

Rose had lost her father in a car accident when she was two years old. She always wanted to use his surname. Though, her mother thought that there was no use in that. But she liked to introduce herself as Rose Wagner Davies on some occasions. Having the butler Felix Schubert here made her heart feel full, she couldn't tell why. Having some people with smiling faces around was exonerating, especially after the dinner she had with the Bensons last night.

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