The Beauty Of Rose

S H A DO W S & S E CR E T S

A/N: Hey! I hope you're having a great day. What do you think about Matthew so far? Drop a comment, I'll be sure to reply. Also, I will update every Friday.

II

I STOOD AS STILL as Death himself in that corner. Who could possibly be in the library too? I leaned closer to the voices, straining to hear.

"When will it be done?" one voice asked. It sounded masculine, but high-pitched... I knew that voice.

"A week after the birth of her child," said another masculine voice. It was deeper. There was a pause.

"Can you...can you tell me once again how it will be done?" the high-pitched voice asked. There was a sigh from the other man.

"She takes her final meal a half hour before nine. The meal will be poisoned. She will be dead by morning, and then the coroner will rule it as a heart attack," he said. Taking their meal a half hour before nine? They were talking about me.

"The poison mimics the affects of a heart attack?" the high-pitched voice inquired in surprise. The other man laughed.

"Looking for such a drug on our notice? It's cyanide. Victoria couldn't be bothered," the deeper voice replied. I smiled ironically.

"So the coroner-" the higher pitched voice started desperately.

"Has been taken care of," the deeper voice replied.

"Good," uttered the high pitched one, relieved. I was struck with realization. Frances. Frances DuBois. That was the name belonging to the voice of high pitch. Matthew's closest companion. And the husband of my friend, Elisabeth. The voices hushed, becoming harder to hear, but I made no move to hear them anyway. I had heard all I needed. I reflected a bit over the information I had gleaned. And the questions I had. How Victoria had managed to convince Matthew's confidante to participate in her plans was surprising. Frances was not anyone of whom I associated with, but he seemed unlike the type to involve themselves in a murder. For a fraction of a second, I considered telling Matthew, but I decided against it. Convincing him, as the detested wife, that the woman he loved and the man he trusted the most wanted to murder me, seemed most unlikely. It would look like a cry for attention.

Matthew would never believe me. Especially since she was now pregnant. Besides, it would alert Victoria I knew of her plans. That woman was anything but stupid, all she would have to do was change them. Then I would truly end up dead. I tucked my palms in my lap. No. I would keep this to myself, until I truly knew what to do with it. And I would tell no one.

🥀

I stayed in my bed chambers the remainder of the day. Usually I stayed in the gardens until luncheon, but the morning incident had soiled my perception of the only place I took comfort in. So I sat and penned a short poem. Poetry was also one of the few things I took solace in. Though I was not any good. There was a soft knock on my door. I hastily put on my veil.

"Come in," I said. Elisabeth opened the door. "Lissie," I cried affectionately. I tilted my head. "Who let you in?" I asked.

"Your butler has seen me come here everyday for four years. He trusts me," Elisabeth replied with a wink. She was not stunning like Victoria, but easily attractive. She had dark melanin skin, similar to mine, with hair that fell softly into curls. Elisabeth filled out in her chest, her posterior, her hips. They weren't unhealthily big like mine. She sat at the foot of my bed.

"How are you?" she asked. My expression sobered.

"She's pregnant," I informed, bitterly. Elisabeth shifted uncomfortably. I peered at her. "What?" I asked.

"It's nothing," she muttered. I felt irritation prod at me.

"If there is something you wish to say, do not refrain from doing so," I said. Elisabeth looked to meet my eyes.

"He needs an heir somehow Rose. His family owns the fourth wealthiest estate in the kingdom. Not to even speak of his family fortune" she responded quietly. There it was, the implication that I could never bear him an heir. I knew the truth, I was not afraid of it. I laughed in the face of my own truths. But it was only a cover for my pain. My eyes flashed.

"So that is it? I'm supposed to be content on the subject simply because he needs an heir born?" I snapped. Elisabeth constructed her next words carefully.

"I know it is unpleasant, it cannot be easy. But nothing else can be done," she replied.

But not carefully enough.

"How could you ever know how unpleasant things are for me? The miserable life I lead!" I exclaimed.

To never have felt the warmth of any loving embrace.
And to never experience it in the years to come.

Elisabeth could hardly ever understand it, perceive it, even if she thought she could. We had known each since before we advanced into our adulthood, and her parents had spoiled her. Her father had a love for his daughter I could never even imagine. And Frances DuBois adored his wife. From the share of social events I had seen, he was constantly doting upon her. And every holiday, Elisabeth always went on her mindless chatters about the gifts he showered upon her.

Frances loved Elisabeth. My friend stared at me, not knowing quite what to say.

"Leave," I commanded suddenly. Her bottom stayed rooted to the foot of my bed.

"Leave!" I repeated, only this time with a shout, and Elisabeth sprang up. She made way for the door and hesitated.

"I suppose Frances was right," she whispered.

"What was Frances right about?" I returned sharply.

"He's been warning me ever since your husband took a mistress to keep away from you . I told him I couldn't, couldn' possibly abandon you. You are my friend. But now with your sudden outburst..." Elisabeth purposefully let her words drag.

Of course he had, I thought bitterly. So it seemed Victoria had set the stage of her murder plans, long before I could ever consider the thought of it. He had been planting seeds of doubt concerning me in my friend's head for years, knowing one day I would be gone. And Elisabeth could very well be emotional collateral.

"I see all too clearly you have no room for me," I said emptily. Elisabeth gave me a sorry look, but it was empty in it's own way. She must have seen this day nearing. She then turned and shut the door behind her. As soon as it shut, I threw myself upon my pillow and allowed myself to taken over by a flood of tears. I didn't even bother to remove my veil.

Then, the door promptly unlocked and was opened. Startled, and annoyed by the interruption, I sat up. The words were forming to shoo away Elisabeth, or anyone else impudent enough to enter my bed chambers, in such a mannerless way, but the words died on my tongue.

Standing in my doorway was none other than my husband.