Page 11 of A Raven Reborn

Rosalyn agreed wholeheartedly. The gown was beautiful. Too beautiful. It was fit for a proper lady, which she wasn’t. She let out a sigh and Ella’s smile faltered in the mirror.

“You don’t like the blue?” she asked.

“It’s beautiful.” She turned to face Ella. “But I’m afraid there has been some kind of misunderstanding. I’m not…” Words failed her so she waved her hands down the dress.

Ella tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps you could tell me what is wrong with it.”

“Well,” Rosalyn didn’t really know where to begin. “For one thing,”—she held up her arms—“I’m in danger of these catching fire while I’m cooking.” She shook the hanging lace for emphasis. “And although an apron would help, these dresses are much more suitable for dancing or strolling than for stirring a pot.”

Ella cupped her hands over her nose and mouth and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. When she dropped her hands, her cheeks had grown slightly pink. “When Patrick said he needed dresses made quickly and required my discretion, I just assumed…” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Are you his cook?”

What a ridiculous situation this was. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know what I am.”

Ella placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Oh Rosie.”

A burst of laughter broke through Rosalyn’s lips. “Rosie isn’t even my name.” How had this happened?

Without so much as a word, Ella waved her girls out of the room and then wrapped her arms around Rosalyn. Why? But then almost instantly, the laughter turned to sobs. The tears just came. She’d been holding them back for far too long, and the dam had finally broken. This woman she hardly knew simply held her and allowed her to cry, just as her mother would have done. She didn’t tell her everything would be alright or that she needed to control herself and dry her eyes before her face became blotchy. She didn’t complain that the tears would stain her dress. She simply held her. Rosalyn hadn’t known such kindness since before her mother had married her second husband.

The crying slowly began to quiet and eventually turned into mostly sniffles. Ella steered Rosalyn across the room and eased her into a chair. “Don’t move,” she said firmly before bustling to the door. She opened it for barely a second, then rifled through a chest on the floor and pulled out a handkerchief.

“There,” she said, handing it to Rosalyn.

Just as she seated herself, the door opened and one of the girls hurried in with a tray. As the girl was about to pour, Ella held up a hand to stop her. “I’ll be mother,” she said. The girl gave her a quick nod and left the room once more.

“Definitely a time for sweet tea.” Ella added copious amounts of sugar to Rosalyn’s cup. She stirred briskly to dissolve the lumps and then handed the saucer to Rosalyn.

Rosalyn blanched a bit at the overwhelming sweetness. Sugar was not an extravagance they had usually been able to afford, so she rarely took it with her tea.

“Drink it down.” Ella gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s good for the soul.”

By the time she got to the bottom of the cup, it was beginning to taste much more pleasant.

“Thank you.” She set the saucer on the table in front of her. Perhaps it really was good for her. She was certainly feeling a little better.

“Now then.” Ella poured her another cup, this time adding about half as much sugar.

“Clearly, I have been terribly misinformed. Is there a reason Patrick didn’t tell me your real name?”

“He only knows me as Rosie, but my given name is Rosalyn.”

“And yet somehow, that answer only increases the mystery.” Ella sat back in the chair and clasped her hands in her lap. “Forgive my possible ignorance, but I’ve never known a cook to have a pseudonym, and I don’t quite understand the purpose.” There was a trace of laughter in her voice.

Rosalyn chuckled at the ridiculousness of the situation. Where did she even begin? At the beginning, she supposed. “Patrick and I met under rather unconventional circumstances, I imagine.”

Ella simply nodded as if this was all perfectly normal.

“My mother’s husband interrupted a rather compromising situation and decided that I was more suited to living in a brothel.” The words tumbled from her mouth as if saying them quickly might lessen the wretchedness of them.

Ella swallowed and her brows dipped into a deep vee. “Was there a reason he disapproved of the man so adamantly?”

“It wasn’t the man he disapproved of, but me,” Rosalyn explained.

Ella shook her head in confusion. “But then why didn’t he insist on marriage?”

Rosalyn looked down at her lap as fear wrapped its icy claws around her heart and memories began to fill her head. “It was his son.” She bit down hard on her lower lip trying to stop the panic from spreading. Her whole body began to tremble.

Ella’s fingertips flew to her lips and her eyes grew wide.

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