Meet Uncle Jonathan.
Meet Alder & Golda Benson.
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1928.
Unbelievable.
"Listen," Rose grabbed her by her shoulders. Leslie might be able to help her find a way to leave this place. But for now, she had to follow the lead. Better play safe. She was still unaware of what was to come or what to expect. She had to do at least something.
"I might need your help tonight." Rose smiled half-heartedly. She knew this girl thought she was delusional, but there was no turning back. For now, it seemed. "I-" How should she explain? "I feel like I don't remember certain things."
"I can see that, my Lady." Leslie was clearly annoyed.
"And certain people." Rose added.
"I noticed." Rose stared at her, her eye seemingly twitching. Her sudden nonchalant attitude threw her off.
"Are you playing smart with me?" No, I need to calm down. As much as Rose was in a problematic situation, so was Leslie. Snapping at her wouldn't help any of them further.
"I would never dare, my Lady." The black-haired woman sighed, looking up at Rose, still unable to belief what was happening. The woman in front of her was not Esmé, she knew that. But whoever this woman was, she was ready to help until she found out what had happened.
"My Lady, you should get dressed first. The Colonel will be here in half an hour."
Rose nodded with a distressed expression. She wasn't ready to face the Colonel or any other person for that matter - anyone who thought, she was a Lady. She sighed, grabbing the dress as Leslie reached out to take it back at the same time.
"What is it now?" Rose frowned, trying to pull the dress out of Leslie's hold.
"My Lady, you need to undress first."
Rose felt heat rise to her cheeks. She had always been one to get easily embarrassed but still, this girl was skipping whole levels of intimacy. Her mouth felt dry. There had never been one person to tell her to undress other than her mother.
"W-why?" Rose lifted her arms, hugging her torso in a protective manner.
"Because I'm going to help you get into the dress." Leslie raised her eyebrows. She talked as if that was the most obvious thing to do.
"I'm not a little kid." Rose argued, "I can get dressed myself!"
"But my Lady," Leslie sighed, her head falling to the front. "It's what I always do. You like when I help you get dressed."
Rose was shocked. Her eyes felt as if they'd fall out of her skull any second. Her lips parted, staring at Leslie who seemed to be amused by her reaction, fighting a smirk.
"No," Rose grabbed the cloth, pointing with her other hand to the door. "You wait outside."
The maid had never seen her Lady being shy about her outer appearance. The opposite in fact. Esmé had been confident with her looks, sometimes even being playful with men. She had them lined up for her.
But all Leslie could do was to nod, leaving Rose alone with her interior conflicts and closing the door shut behind her.
The modern young girl plumped onto the bed again, huffing deeply, hiding her face behind her hands. She fought the urge to cry. This felt overwhelming. She felt trapped, not knowing how to act or how to talk even. Wiping away the few tears that had escaped her eyes, she took a deep, long breath. She stared at the chiffon dress to her side, not being able to estimate what was waiting for her outside this room.
Was she really in 1928? How could that possibly happen? Why did it happen?
Whatever it was that the stars had sent her here for, she'd get it over with. There was nothing Rose couldn't overcome. She stood up, taking off the blue pyjama dress. Shrieking when she saw the undergarments she had on.
Staring at the tight corset that hugged her body, her fingers caressed the large push-ups over her chest. She shook her head disapprovingly, quickly pulling the beige chiffon dress over her frame. Great, she couldn't pull the zipper up.
Groaning annoyedly, she held the fabric tightly to her chest, else it would fall off her body. She had to admit, the more she studied the its details, the more she was mesmerized by it. It hugged her waist perfectly, golden sequins decorating her upper half and the chiffon loosely falling, its ends caressing the floor.
Rose stared at her reflection in the mirror over the vanity table again, trying to calm down. It didn't matter how much she tried to focus on the current situation and clear her thoughts, her heartbeat was rapid. She still didn't manage to control her breathing. This was outrageous. How would she get used to being called a different name? Could she act as someone she was not?
"Lady Esmé," Rose sighed deeply when she heard Leslie call her from outside the room. "Can I come in?" She didn't want to answer. She wanted to stay alone, wrapped under the blanket in hopes that she'd wake up next to Emma again.
Leslie slowly opened the door, peeking inside. When she noticed that Rose had put the dress on already, she stepped in. Without saying a word, she walked over to Rose, zipped the dress up and motioned her to sit on the chair that stood next to the vanity.
Rose positioned it correctly, sitting down, leaning back with her eyes closed. There was nothing to talk about.
Both girls sensed that something was odd. One didn't belong here. Both didn't understand what had happened, but they knew for sure that something had changed. And their lives would never be the same.
So, Leslie decided not to bother the confused woman sitting in front of her. She began comping Rose's wavy hair, looking at her over the mirror's reflection now and then. Rose felt her gaze on herself, opening her eyes to meet Leslie's. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
"I'll get over this, right?" She murmured.
"Yes, my Lady." Leslie smiled brightly. Her sudden sincere mien warmed Rose's heart. It was the first time for her to return a soft smile even if it was half-heartedly.
"I'll help you. I always did, Lady Esmé. I don't care what happened." Rose nodded, feeling assured. Leslie opened the drawer to their right, revealing some make-up essentials. "We don't have much time left but enough to get you ready."
She pulled everything out, putting them onto the vanity table one by one. Rose stared with admiration. A lot of the pieces looked like powder products, but their packaging was bulky yet fancy. Leslie positioned herself next to her new Lady. She took out a powder sponge, dipping it directly into the pressed powder and making all the dust fly around. She aimed to tap it onto Rose's face when Rose turned her head away.
"Are you going to put that on my face just like that?" She coughed. Leslie nodded, still holding the sponge right into Rose's face.
"But I have really dry skin," She added. "This is going to make me look ridiculous."
"No, it won't," Leslie stated. Not letting Rose continue to argue, holding her chin firmly, she put the powder all over her. Rose watched the powder fall off her face onto the table. Such a waste.
Leslie took out a cream blush, tapping it onto Rose's cheeks with her finger. She did everything wrong, Rose thought. Why would you put a cream blush onto such a dusty powder?
She was shocked when she noticed the blush's colour. A bright pink. All over her cheeks, like a circle. She fought the urge to swipe everything away with the back of her hand. Watching Leslie put out some green-blue rub-on eyeshadow, she rolled her eyes not being able to hold back a remark anymore, "Do you want me to look like a clown? Don't you have something more neutral?"
"Neutral?" Leslie asked, baffled. "But these are your favourite colours!"
Rose huffed. What bold taste did Esmé have? First the corset under her and now this overly done makeup. What a muck.
"But-" She groaned, "The blusher is funny enough already. And now, you're going to pair it with a blue shadow? A blue this bright?!" She pointed at the colours in front of her, trying to demonstrate that this was not a match.
"Blusher?"
"Yes!" She now pointed at her face, circling her cheeks with her fingers. "All this blush."
"You mean rouge?"
Rose was about to palm her forehead, but she knew that everything would stick onto her now sweaty hand, ruining her face even more, so she didn't. She examined her make-up in the mirror. I look like a fudging doll. A doll that belonged into the 20s. Perfectly done but she hated it.
Rose noticed Leslie getting progressively frustrated with her. She decided to give up, whining and shutting her eyes tightly.
"Fine!" She threw her hands up dramatically. "Do whatever you want!"
Leslie hesitated. But seeing the time on the wall, she hurried. Rose avoided her reflection in the mirror, not wanting to spot anything else to argue about as she began studying the table in front of her instead.
Everything had to be expensive. The perfume bottles looked like they were luxurious pieces. She reached to grab one, a flower shaped yellow bottle with a green pump, smelling the tip. It was jasmine.
Leslie had finished when Rose sprayed some of the perfume on her neck. She caught Leslie staring with a slight smile. Rose cleared her throat, putting the bottle back on its place.
"That's yours, my Lady. Use it however you like."
"Whatever." Rose checked her face. It was indeed a typical 20s makeup look like she had seen in magazines. Leslie had tried to keep it natural, it seemed.
"Ok," She stood up, turning to face Leslie. "What exactly is going to happen now?"
"The Colonel had been away for a few weeks. He returned home and he wants to have dinner with you." Leslie explained. "A few of his business partners are visiting, too."
Great. Rose couldn't have been luckier. She didn't even know the world she had stranded on. Then this. She nodded, sighing. She felt defeated. Didn't she have to fight back?
But what would it happen, if she refused to follow? Of course, she would attract attention.
But she couldn't. Obviously, she was here for some reason. Rose had decided. She'd find out.
"I'll stick around you, my Lady." Rose nodded nervously.
Then Leslie opened the door, leading Rose out. A long corridor with different paintings hanging on the walls. Some had landscapes on it. Some portraited people. One, Rose recognized. It was a photo of Alder Benson with Esmé to his right and a younger boy to his left.
They passed the hall, reaching the stairs that led downstairs. Leslie motioned Rose to go first. Her heart beat in her ears. When she walked down these stairs and faced the Bensons family, there was no turning back. She knew it.
Ugh! Rose slapped herself mentally. Stop being so nervous! She had to pull herself together, gulping down the last bit of anxiousness she had. She put a smile on her lips, stepping forward with the best confident composure she could pull. A woman with black hair, like Leslie's, waited at the end of the stairs.
She bowed her head slightly. Rose recognized her as Leslie's mother. They had similar facial features, very distinctive ones. Rose managed to smile warmly at her, stopping when she had reached the last step. She turned to the right about to continue walking when Leslie grabbed her arm, making her falter.
"The dining room is to your left, my Lady." She whispered in Rose's ear.
"Right," Rose mumbled. "I knew that."
They walked towards the dining hall which had a large, embellished entrance. Stepping inside, Rose halted for a moment and took in the beautiful ambience.
The hall was long and narrow as if it had no end, the rear area disappearing in the darkness, radiating a mysterious aura. A long table with over ten chairs around it. It was beautifully laid, colourful flowers decorating its middle. The paintings on the walls gave more life to the dimly lit room, although it had a beautiful chandelier swinging above their heads, seemed as if its only purpose was to look nice. A grand white piano was placed on the one side and a bar was on the other.
This was unbelievable. What a big shot. Leslie nudged her back, pulling her out of her trance. Rose noticed that some men were seated on the further half of the table in the shadow. They had lifted their heads, as the girl walked inside, looking into Rose's direction.
"Esmé!" One of them stood up, making his way over to Rose. He had a brown suit on. His grey hair was perfectly combed. His bright green eyes beamed at Rose as he strode closer.
"My Lady, this is your uncle, Jonathan Benson. Your father's older brother." Leslie informed her, whispering and Rose felt thankful to have her.
Rose stretched her hand out but the old yet tall and fit man pulled her into a tight hug. Act natural. She put her arms around the man carefully. Pulling back, he smiled widely.
"How's my favourite niece been?"
Rose tried to curve her lips, nodding. "Thank you, uncle. I've been well."
"Great, Great. Come let's sit. Alder left to call your mother to dinner." He took her hand in his, leading her to the table.
Rose whirled her head around, looking helplessly into Leslie's direction but she only smiled, motioning with her hand that everything was fine. They moved towards the lit area of the table. The two other men that sat at the other dark end, stood up.
"Don't worry about them, my Esmé." Jonathan gestured the two men to leave the dining hall. "They came to discuss some business, but your father just arrived from Birmingham. So, they'll wait until we finish dinner."
"Why don't they join us?" Wasn't it rude to let them wait in a different room when they could just have dinner with them? Jonathan stared at her niece with wide eyes as if she had said something inappropriate. When he noticed that Rose was being serious, he burst out laughing, his hand hiding mouth. She was baffled.
"My love, do you really think that they can sit with us?" He wouldn't stop laughing. And Rose didn't like him calling her nicknames.
She sighed, nodding only and sitting down. The table was set for five people, Jonathan being right in front of her. Rose felt frustrated. This would be an interesting dinner with people she didn't know but that considered themselves her parents. She rubbed her palms against her thighs nervously when she caught her supposedly uncle examining her.
Rose looked up to meet his gaze. "Are you not feeling well, darling?"
She froze for only a brief second, shaking her head abruptly and forcing a smile. "No, I'm just tired." She chuckled slightly.
"Fine." His gaze digressed, seemingly falling into a deep thought.
They sat there in silence, an awkward tension filling the already constricted air in the room. Rose let her eyes travel around, desperately trying to spot Leslie, but she was nowhere to be found. How could she leave me alone here?
Rose watched the door she had entered through, waiting for Alder and Golda Benson to arrive. She remembered them from the picture she had seen in the museum. Rose might look like Esmé but Golda didn't resemble Karen, Rose's mother, at all. Golda had light coloured hair. Probably blonde.
"Where is Wyatt?" Jonathan asked, folding his hands on the table. Rose stared at him; her mind blank. Wyatt? Who was Wyatt? Why didn't Leslie tell her about Wyatt?
Could it be the young boy on the picture in the hallway?
Rose opened her mouth as she tried to think of something to say without revealing herself, but fortunately she was interrupted as steps were audible at the entrance. An old man walked inside. His head was held low, his hands deep in the pockets of his navy-blue suit. His long grey hair fell into his face, hiding his eyes.
Behind him, there was Golda Benson. She walked over to the dining table with her head held high, a plaster grin on her lips. Her blonde hair was up in a bun, her hands folded in the front. Her red gown making her look way too overdressed for a simple family dinner.
But again, Rose stared down her own body. She was overdressed herself. Did Esmé always walk around like this? This would be even more difficult than Rose had thought. I'll change that,
Knowing that this woman was Golda, the old man had to be her husband, Esmé's father. Also known as the Colonel. He looked up to meet Rose's eyes.
"My angel," Alder's face lit up as he approached Rose with wide arms. She stood up, she felt like she should and watched as the old man pulled her into a tight embrace. "It's been a while." He hugged Rose, putting a soft kiss onto her forehead as he caressed her back. It felt peculiar. These people might believe she was Esmé but to her, they were all strangers. Hugging them, accepting their kisses was unsettling.
But she tried her best to seem natural. Fortunately, Golda nodded only, sitting down next to her to her left. Alder to her right, stifling.
"Where is Wyatt?" Alder asked, pointing at the empty seat next to Jonathan.
Rose shrugged. She hadn't even met Wyatt yet.
"Tell you brother to not skip having dinner with us." He stared deep into Rose's eyes. She was startled, trying to keep his intense gaze. But she coughed, nodding. Did he always have those demanding eyes? It was just one dinner, geez.
Then Leslie appeared next to her. Rose turned around to see that she and her mother came to serve the dishes. Her face lit up when she saw Leslie, feeling at ease again. She reached out to help them serve the food in front of everyone, standing up and taking the plate out of Leslie's mother's hand.
"What are you doing, Esmé?" Golda huffed with frown plastered on her face. Yup, Rose knew, she didn't like this woman.
"Obviously, I'm trying to help." Rose stated with an indifferent tone lingering in her voice. Then she noticed that everyone at the table stared at her with disbelief in their eyes.
"Let the girl do her job."
Rose watched as Leslie took the plate out of her hands, smiling lightly.
"Let me do this, my Lady." She mumbled.
"It's not like my arm will fall off." Rose muttered under her breath. So, this was how things worked under this roof. She plumped down onto her chair.
The rest of dinner, Rose decided not to interfere in anything and observe. She had to check first, what was appropriate for her to say or not. Not because she was planning on holding back the next time but the exact opposite. She'd be prepared.
She didn't want to listen as Jonathan and Alder began talking about the two men from earlier. They talked about a possible deal in textiles. Golda hadn't said a word either. It was quite and the whole dinner felt off beat. It was tense. As if Rose was only a doll, sitting, eating and not making a single sound. She was literally dolled up for this dinner. She couldn't believe it. A sigh escaped her lips, causing Jonathan and Alder stop talking and turning their attention on Rose.
Oh, how dare I breath at dinner?! She rolled her eyes.
Rose didn't have appetite anyway. This was here moment to chop off for tonight. She pushed her chair back and she could see by the look in Alder's eyes, that this was shocking to him.
"Is there anything wrong, Esmé?" He leaned back in his seat. "You're different today. You behave strangely off."
Rose fought back a remark, smiling. "I'm sorry," She bowed her head slightly at Golda then at Jonathan. "I don't feel well. I should take some rest, father." She hadn't used this word in forever. It felt weird as it slipped off her tongue.
Alder nodded, studying Rose suspiciously. "You may take a rest then."
With that Rose turned on her heel about to leave the dining hall, staring at Leslie, trying to make a sign for her to follow. But she shook her head. Rose stopped in her track, raising her eyebrows, moving them weirdly trying to emphasize that Leslie had to.
But Leslie stood near the table solid as a rock not moving. She probably had work to do here but Rose understood that but she was selfish today. And probably the next weeks. Or months?
"What's wrong?" Rose froze, hearing Alder's voice. He had caught her making odd faces to Leslie. He glanced between Leslie and Rose, repeating his question. "Is there something wrong, Leslie?"
She chuckled nervously. "No, Sir." She stared at Rose. "My Lady hurt her head a few moments back, she must have a headache."
"You go with her then." He waved his hand dismissively. As much as his behaviour was bothersome, Rose was glad that Leslie was off work.
When they stepped outside, Rose grabbed Leslie's arm, pulling her towards the stairs and through the corridor, rushing back into her bedroom. My bedroom? Had she embarked on already? She closed the door behind them. Leaning her back against it, she slumped onto the ground. "Finally." She huffed, rolling her eyes annoyedly. "I can breathe again!"
Leslie watched Rose, fighting a smirk.
"Don't look at me like that." Rose scoffed.
"Like what?"
"Like you have me all understood."
"But I have."
Rose sighed, getting up. She was tired of this dress, of her makeup, of everything in this house already, although she knew this was just the beginning. She remembered what the guide had said about this decade. It was famous for its cruel nobilty and ill minded gangs. And she was bagged here. What do I do?
"You should rest, my Lady." Rose stared at her with narrowed eyes.
"Can you read my mind now?"
"I always did, Lady Esmé. I'm your closest servant."
"Stop calling yourself my servant." Rose stated with a sincere tone. This wasn't the world she wanted to live in. And if it had to be, then she was ready to change it bit by bit.
"You should call yourself my friend."
Leslie couldn't hide her surprised expression, smiling shyly.
"Yes, we could be friends."