Evening, February 14th, 1891 — Courtly Love Inspired Charity Garden Party, Southampton
Ezra Applegate
Ezra Applegate
It was under great duress that Rosalie was attending the charity event. Despite initially supporting her withdrawal from the high society life, her parents were still keen on seeing Rosalie married before she reached official spinster age. Nevermind that she wasn't yet healed from the first failed engagement, or that she has less than zero interest in finding someone else to wed. They're insistent, and after months of deflecting their invitations Rosie finally caves.
The party itself isn't the worst one she had attended over the years. (No, that particular party was the third one she attended after her debut and its evening concluded with a nasty bout of food poisoning.) At least the festivities were interesting and the champagne was flowing freely. If she had to suffer through the entirety of the evening she intended to do so slightly tipsy. (Never drunk, her mother would rant at her for days if Rosie ever showed up back home drunk.)
After having both danced and chatted with Anthony for a decent while, Rosie found herself nearly alone on one of the warmly lit terraces. There were others scattered about, but, for the moment, she was able to have a hint of peace. A minute to reflect on what this party ought to have represented for her.
She needn't reflect long. Rosie hadn't examined the terrace fully open entering it, she hadn't spotted him just off to the side. And yet, somehow Rosie had gravitated towards him. She ought to turn and leave, to avoid interacting more than the wide eyed eye contact she was now engaging in. Nothing about their circumstances had changed, their future together shattered like glass between them. She ought to leave.
She couldn't.
"Hello. I'm- I'm sorry, I didn’t realize you were out here." Rosie offered as a greeting. She hadn't even known he was there at all. "I can go." She really ought to go, for going down this path with him again would lead to nothing but misery for them both.
The party itself isn't the worst one she had attended over the years. (No, that particular party was the third one she attended after her debut and its evening concluded with a nasty bout of food poisoning.) At least the festivities were interesting and the champagne was flowing freely. If she had to suffer through the entirety of the evening she intended to do so slightly tipsy. (Never drunk, her mother would rant at her for days if Rosie ever showed up back home drunk.)
After having both danced and chatted with Anthony for a decent while, Rosie found herself nearly alone on one of the warmly lit terraces. There were others scattered about, but, for the moment, she was able to have a hint of peace. A minute to reflect on what this party ought to have represented for her.
She needn't reflect long. Rosie hadn't examined the terrace fully open entering it, she hadn't spotted him just off to the side. And yet, somehow Rosie had gravitated towards him. She ought to turn and leave, to avoid interacting more than the wide eyed eye contact she was now engaging in. Nothing about their circumstances had changed, their future together shattered like glass between them. She ought to leave.
She couldn't.
"Hello. I'm- I'm sorry, I didn’t realize you were out here." Rosie offered as a greeting. She hadn't even known he was there at all. "I can go." She really ought to go, for going down this path with him again would lead to nothing but misery for them both.
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