Conventional Story: Rosegood Family
Characters of the Rosegood family
Melody Rosegood –
The victim’s grandmother, rather stern, but motherly towards her granddaughter, Helene Rosegood
Cornelia Rosegood –
The following two women’s mother pays more attention to the latest fashion designs than to their daughters
Helene Rosegood –
Cornelia’s elder daughter, rather conventional, prettier than her sister; an author of many a romance
Joalina Rosegood –
Cornelia’s younger daughter, rather carefree, wild and beautiful; is an international singer, much to the disapproval of her grandmother
Alvin Rosegood –
The eldest child of Cornelia Rosegood, interested in plays and drama
Other characters
Alex Kray –
Sterling’s best friend when he was alive; frequent visitor to the Rosegoods
Rio Alenback –
Joalina’s mentor in lyric-writing.
James Sharpe –
Helene’s fiancée, best friend and illustrator of her books
Violet Milderwoode –
A very uncultured woman – doesn’t appear until quite a bit into the book, but is yet an important character.
The Setting
Chapter 1
“Sorry to disturb you like this, Alex,” said Cornelia genuinely, tugging at the ends of her midnight boa. It went well with her rose bengaline silk gown, extravagantly furbelowed, and a string of pearls. Her golden hair was in a rather fashionable mess, pinned up in some places but let down in others.
“Disturbed by your unofficial sister doesn’t count,” Alex smiled, rustling up his velvet cloak. “It’s rather important, isn’t it – if Auntie Mel has herself asked for me?”
“It is,” she agreed.
A call came through the door – “Cornelia, dear?”
“We should go inside,” Cornelia said, stating the obvious, ducking into the room.
It was a well-furnished room, practically bathing in luxuries – painted, mosaic-style lamps, silk drapes made from crushed, real roses, and, in one corner, a four-poster made from a glamorous kind of wood.
Sitting gingerly on the bed was Mrs Rosegood, Cornelia Rosegood’s ageing mother. She looked weak, but she still had the Rosegood family’s sharpness in her.
Let me describe her to you –
She had grey, unbrushed hair, that curled just above her shoulders. Her eyes were cold, the colour of ice, and surveyed Alex suspiciously. She had a beautiful face, maybe a bit obscured by age and wrinkles. She had a sharp nose – indeed, her entire face was aquiline. She was, as usual, dressed grandly – a black silk wrap over a golden paduasoy dress that shimmered as the light hit it. To top it off, she wore a black feather boa, a damask cloak, and a pair of golden high-heels, even though they were at home.
“Mother, I’ve brought him,” she said unnecessarily, then went and sat on the swing, leaving Alex in the spotlight.
“Ah, Alex,” she said. She extended one jewelled hand and he bent his head to kiss it; her face broke into a beautiful smile. “How are you, my dear?”
“Just about good, Auntie Mel. I thought I’d come here to check up on the young.”
“Joalina is out, Alex, on one of her walks. You could just talk to Helene and Alvin.”
“That’s fine,” Alex said, secretly relieved. He didn’t particularly like Joalina – the wild, moody creature spooked him a bit. Helene, on the other hand, was sweet, gentle and pretty. Rather the conventional lady.
“There’s another thing I wanted to talk about,” she leant forward in confidence. “I’m thinking of sending off Joalina.”
That interested Alex. “If I may, Auntie Mel – why?”
“I’m feeling like… something’s wrong with her. she’s become quiet. moody. And she’s disappearing frequently. I have the feeling that that’s something… masculine about it.”
“If I could, Auntie Mel – I don’t think Joalina is the kind to get interested in boys,” Alex said courteously. Inside, he was boiling. Even he knew that Joalina was the girl least likely to get attracted to boys!
Melody’s nostrils flared, then she arranged her face into a sweet, unconvincing smile. “Why not, dear Alex? She’s already 19, turning 20 in the coming July. Anyway, I need your opinion on good universities abroad.”
A few hectic minutes passed, where Alex tried to think up as many satisfactory universities as he could. He escaped after exhausting his brain powers, and was striding out of the mansion when suddenly he heard Cornelia cry out, “Alex, wait!”
Startled, he turned, and found her rushing after him, fur cloak floating behind her.
“My dear Cornelia, slow down,” he laughed.
“Sorry,” she panted. “It was just that – please, if you could, try to convince Mother not to send Joalina abroad. I know there isn’t wrong with her, but you know it – when Mother wants something, not even a bull can stand in her way.”
He was surprised at her. Cornelia Rosegood had always been a little feather-brained and careless when it came to all of humanity. Why his intimate friend Sterling had decided to marry her had always been a little of a mystery to him. But, at last, she was being cautious when it came to her kids!
“I’ll try,” he said cautiously. “I can’t promise anything, sister, but I’ll try.”
“Thank you so much, Alex,” said Cornelia Rosegood, curtsied to him, then disappeared back into the mansion.
Chapter 2
Jaolina Rosegood was perhaps not the best of singers. Maybe she didn’t have that conventional, melodious voice. She did, however, have an airy-but-strong, guitar-tuned voice, which she was the time exercising to blend to a song called ‘Life of the Party.’
“Ooh la,” she sang. “Ooh, la. Good, Rio?”
Her mentor, Rio Alenback, nodded. “A three, a two, a one, a start!”
“Ooh la. Ooh, la.
Ooh la. Ooh, la.
I want to walk away,
The way I came.
Walk away,
Down the same pathway.
‘Cause I know the lights,
The disco part,
It ain’t for me. (Ain’t for me)
But when you switch on the record,
All I can see,
Are you!
Yeah! Life of the party, just screams it out!
Life of the party,
Life of the part, just screams it out!
Life of the party!” she ended on a high note. “So?” she asked, slightly breathless.
Her mentor, a guy named Rio who was just two years elder than her and had already claimed a Grammy, laughed. “Don’t be so nervous, Jo – I already told you, you sing this song as you own it.”
A smile came to her face as they edged around an almond tree. Part of Rio’s contract was that they would forever be moving and singing, because of his injured leg, which needed constant exercise.
“Good, because that’s the only thing I own right now,” she muttered in reply to his comment.
“What?” he said, leaning in.
“Nothing,” she said hastily.
“Come on, there’s a story in there,” grinned Rio. Along with her mentor, he was also her friend.
She sighed. “Nothing much. Remember how, in the will, Papa had given the property to me?”
Rio nodded.
“Well, since Helene’s going to be married to James next week, the property lawfully goes to her as first-wed.”
“That’s ludicrous!” said Rio, aghast.
Joalina gave a bitter smile. “It’s true. The family lawyer told us this last month when Helene announced her engagement.”
“I wish I were a lawyer. I’d smash that lawyer to bits,” said Rio animatedly.
Joalina smiled – a genuine smile now. It lit up her face like a lamp from within. “Dearest Rio, don’t you think I would smash that lawyer myself?”
Rio laughed. His moods were quick – especially his anger. “Don’t let your gran find out you said that.”
“I won’t dare,” Joalina said seriously.
They passed around a cherry tree towering over a crystal brook.
“I got an idea, though,” said Rio slowly.
“Hmm?” Joalina said, trying to balance herself on the slope of mud around the brook.
“If you married before Helene, you’d get the estate, won’t you?”
“I suppose.” Joalina clutched Rio’s hand as she narrowly missed stumbling into the brook. “But who would want to marry someone like me?”
“I can think of a great many people,” said Rio gravely.
The way he said it made Joalina’s cheeks flush. “Never mind,” she said hastily, dropping Rio’s hand. “We’ll think of another way.”
*
Helene Rosegood decided that her day had not, at all, been good. For one, the dress designer who was supposed to be making her wedding dress had declared that the chosen fabric – a type of thick organdy – was not available, and two, her fiancé was late to show up at the bakery they were supposed to trying their cakes at.
She shuffled her damask cloak across her shoulders, and mimicked kicking a spool of wool back and forth in order to warm her feet.
“Sorry I’m late, love,” he said as he dropped in a few minutes later, panting. He pressed his lips to her hand. “So awfully sorry, love.” His old-fashioned, funny seeming jargon was one of the reasons Helene loved him. “I had to race across town to get you this.”
He fished in his velvet cloak to bring out a newspaper package; he offered it to the slightly mollified woman. She carefully tore it open to reveal a thick book.
“What is this?” she breathed, examining the red-bound, golden-paged book. It seemed to be a diary with thick, heavy, uncut pages, and a golden title was sewn onto the jacket.
“A diary, Helene – a diary to write your most innate, personal, original thoughts. I know we can’t be completely honest with each other at this point in time, so I’m hoping that right now, you pen down all the thoughts, worries, feelings you have -” he ticked them off on his fingers; “- and later we can laugh about it, when we’re older and wiser.”
“Since when did you get so wise, my dear James?” Helene laughed, hugging him. “Come on, let’s try out some cakes.”
*
Chapter 3
Tragedy Strikes at Claymoon Moors: Lady Alexia is to be murdered.
Last evening, at approx. 17:33, tragedy struck. Lady Alexia was found to be missing ten minutes ago, and a thorough search was done of the house. She was later found to be in the laundry cupboard, suffocated until she couldn’t breathe, but the servant claimed to be at home tending to her ill sister at that time.
Mrs Melody Rosegood abandoned the article after reading this. She wasn’t a businesswoman, but she knew enough to identify important news when it struck her.
“Call my daughter,” she ordered the maid impatiently.
The maid, frightened, curtsied and scurried to fetch her daughter. A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. “Mother?” she heard Cornelia call.
“Come in, darling,” she used the tone she employed only for bad news.
Cornelia came in, simply resplendent in a white tulle gown that flared at the hips and a glossy violet wrap around her shoulders. The golden hair she’d inherited from her father was arranged atop her head in a fetching manner, and a tiara of real diamonds glittered at the crown of the coiffure; the Rosegoods were undoubtedly a very rich family.
“Yes, Mother?” she said formally, curtsying, then seating herself daintily on a settee and crossing her legs. For all the modern society, she looked like a female Pharoah addressing her subjects.
“Cornelia, honey, we simply must get Helene married quickly. Read this article.” She passed the newspaper to her.
Cornelia Rosegood absently scanned the newspaper, her face unrevealing. “Lady Alexia is dead?” she said softly, putting the newspaper down. Her lips were pursed together – presumably to stop them trembling.
“I’m afraid so, my dear. Not only did we lose a dear family friend, we also lost a key investor in the affairs of the estate. Which means -”
“That’s it best to pass the estate from us into some new hands and remove the blame,” Cornelia finished. “Very well, Mother,” she got up. “But if we force Helene to get married as soon as possible, then Jo won’t agree to going abroad to finish her studies – you know it, Mother.”
“And it would be bad to the Rosegood Family reputation too,” reflected the old woman. “All right. Jo won’t be sent abroad until a month after Helene has married.”
“Yes, Mother,” nodded Cornelia. Then she swept away, as much a pharaoh as a 20th century woman could be.
*
“I don’t get it, Alvin,” said an ordinary girl, of about 23 years old.
Alvin Rosegood smiled patiently. “It’s simply us Rosegoods, my dearest Violet.”
The girl sighed. She looked completely normal – the only true beautiful girl in town, Alvin realised. Instead of a conventional, bathing-in-make-up lady, she was one who didn’t care about her appearance. Indeed, she wore a simple flannelette frock. Her tangled black hair was wrestled into a ponytail, and her normal, chocolatey eyes surveyed Alvin unblinkingly. See? She wasn’t even trying to look beautiful. Nope. That was the outstanding quality that Alvin had been looking for in a girl – and he got it.
Violet Milderwoode was the town’s most unkept girl. Her father had given up on civilizing her, and now watched in the backseat as all the youth in the town proposed to every girl except her. Her mother was out of the picture – something about a gas leak – and so Violet Milderwoode was quite literally the talk of the town. In a negative connotation, if you get it.
“But have you told your Granny Mel that you plan to live abroad?”
“I have – but they’re not listening. They insist that I live here and receive the estate.”
“But how does it tie back to you?” she asked.
“Because I’m the eldest plus the male. However, Helene has a good chance if she becomes the first Wed. And Jo stands the best chance, of being picked out especially in the will.
“And why is that?” asked Violet curiously.
“When he was alive, Papa clubbed together the estate and the business to hand it over to Jo, because he knew that I always planned to leave this town and settle abroad – so if he gave it to me, I would simply sell off the family estate at an excellent price. He also knew that Helene led with her heart and not her mind – which wouldn’t come in handy when she guided the family business. So Jo was the obvious choice. She also had the right set of heart and mind. But,” here Alvin put an arm around Violet and gently pulled her to her feet, “let’s not talk about my family. Let’s talk about us.”
Violet laughed. It wasn’t a melodious, tinkling laugh that most heroines had – indeed, her laugh was positively rude, loud and like a bark. It stunned a crow as they passed beneath a tree. It was these oddities – looking completely normal, maybe even bordering on ugly, being wild, and having a laugh that society considered impolite or unladylike – that made her perfect in Alvin’s eyes. he was tired of pretty, dainty ladies – yet more Cornelias or Helenes.
“What’s there to talk about?” she said, nestling against Alvin’s side as they passed through a violet garden.
“Maybe this,” Alvin said. He abruptly snapped to the ground, scooped a violet into his hands, and twirled it at her.
She laughed again, then snatched the flower from his hand and prodded it back into the earth. “Don’t hurt Planet Earth,” she told him.
Alvin made a face. “Don’t act like Mother.”
“There – we’re back to the family again!” she pointed a finger accusingly in his face.
“You’re right,” he laughed. They laughed a lot in each other’s company. “Family is out of the door. So, tell me, Vi -”
And the day passed.
The Body
Chapter 4
“I can’t believe it!” Helene shrieked. “I – holy Papa Sterling – can’t believe it! Granny Mel actually preponed the date of our marriage!”
Nobody would believe that such a conventional, pretty lady could make such a racket. But the news did hit her hard.
“Helene, love -” James took her wrists to force her to look at him. “If your grandmother says something, you know it’s culture to follow it.”
“But I’m tired of culture and convention – and – and everything. I want to get married in peace, James. All my life I’ve been hurried and prepared to be beautiful and attractive and whatnot. I just – I just want this one event in my life to be perfect.”
“I know, dearest,” James gently took one hand. And it will be. It doesn’t matter which day we get married on, or by whose wishes. All it matters is that we get married to each other.”
“No, you don’t get it, James. It’s what comes next – not just this point of time. It’s the fact that the estate will be passed to us. And I want it, honey – I admit it. It’s just that… it’s a lot of responsibility – more than just staying quiet and pretty. I’m scared. What if we mess it up, or burn out, or -”
“Helene, if there’s one fault in you, it’s that you overthink. You are stressing way too much. And you’re taking it all on you.” James, ever the psychologist, was using his skills on her. “Don’t you forget that I’m here – every second. Never forget that, Helene.”
That would have been a pretty sentimental scene – had Granny Mel not chosen that moment to yell, “Well, have you reached your decision?!”
*
“I’ve got it,” Rio said suddenly.
Jo strummed a string on her guitar. “Life of the party,” she hummed. “What is it?”
It was one of the rare times that Rio’s leg was better and they’d stayed back in the little music studio he called home. A few years ago, his house had been bombed during the war, and he had barely escaped with a broken leg. It had never been the same again, and now he walked with the slightest trail of a limp.
“All we need to do is fix you up with someone who would suitably impress your Granny Mel so that you could get married before Helene and James.”
“That won’t work – the only man I know my age is… well, frankly, you,” said Jo unblushingly.
“I thought of that,” Rio gave a guilty smile. “We could pretend to like each other – if you don’t mind, that is.”
“Are you out of your mind, Rio?!” shrieked Jo. Looked like all the women in the Rosegood household were in a mood to shriek. “I honestly do mind – but even if we dodged that, there’s no way you’d convince Granny Mel. She’s a tough nut to crack, I tell you.”
“My brother-in-law is the son of Lord Gunwick,” he blurted.
Jo looked at him in surprise. “No joke?”
“No joke. Honest to god.”
“All right. Let’s see if he can spruce you up enough to impress my Granny Mel.”
*
“He looks… perfect,” Jo said, looking at him from another angle.
Rio did look perfect. His normal trousers and shirt were replaced by a magnificent red robe lined with gold and a fur cloak. His normal black hair had been extended to shoulder length, and dyed to a magnificent gold. But it wasn’t just that. He carried himself differently, too. Like a king, almost.
Jo pressed my palm against his skin. No colour. “Wow,” she blinked, turning to Jr. Gunwick, “you actually cleaned him up.”
“The butler did,” he dismissed it. “All it takes is one marble bathtub and a hundred fountains and all the dirt is gone.”
“Still, you did a marvelous job. How can I ever -”
He waved it aside. “All I want in return is an invite to your sister’s wedding.”
“Helene?” Jo said incredulously.
He nodded. “James and I used to be best friends, but we fell out and now I’m not going to be able to attend his wedding.”
“All right. It’s a deal.”
Chapter 5
“Hello, Lord… Rio Alenback?” said Melody Rosegood, surreptitiously reading his name from her palm.
“You got it right, ma’am,” Rio, or rather, Lord Alenback, stepped forward and kissed her hand rather awkwardly, at the last moment remembering Jr. Gunwick’s training.
His attitude was what satisfied Melody Rosegood that he was indeed a relation of royalty.
“How do you do,” she said courteously. “Please, take a seat.”
He carefully sat on the crepuscular settee and draped one hand on one of the armrests as Jr. Gunwick had instructed him to.
“I’ve heard that you want to ask the hand of my younger granddaughter?” she began, curtsies aside.
“Yes, ma’am. Since you were her grandmother, I felt it necessary to approach you first,” he took the polite road.
“You did well,” she admitted.
Just then, a man in the room gave a low cough.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Lord Alenback, this is my late son-in-law’s friend, Mr Alex Kray. You can call him Alex.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Lord Alenback politely.
Before Alex could pass the same courtesies back, there was a knock on the mahogany door, and suddenly a woman swept in. If Rio hadn’t already tried to marry her, he would definitely do so now.
She was tall and willowy and held herself with a certain… composure. She wore a white challis gown with a ret filet bodice; she enhanced its beauty with a ruby necklace and a scarlet cloak.
Her face was powdered with a sheen that made the occupants of the room gape. It looked like she was a living disco ball. Her hair, golden blonde like her mother’s, was put up in a coiffure with just a few strands lurking near her high cheekbones. Her eyes were drawn back, wide and innocent. They were framed by long, black eyelashes that threatened both immeasurable beauty and immeasurable danger. Just the combination Rio liked.
“Granny Mel,” she said, dipping her head gracefully. This was the kind of respectful act that Melody Rosegood appreciated.
Then she turned and bowed to the two agape men. “Gentlemen,” she greeted them, with the barest hint of a smile in Rio’s direction.
“Joalina,” Melody Rosegood said, taking her hand as she’d never seen her properly before. “Come to me, my dear.”
Joalina Melody Rosegood let herself be pulled to the spot next to her grandmother. She sat there in a pose that Rio couldn’t quite recognise – not self-confident, like the usual Jo, but nervous. Indeed, her fingers were twisting, removing and sliding back a diamond ring that they were going to pretend had come from Mr Alenback, but was actually a fake, purchased at the local bazaar.
“You look… beautiful,” breathed Lord Alenback; the woman in front of him seemed to have made the room airless.
She blushed, tendrils of red creeping across her cheeks; it was when he realised what was going on. This was the dressed-up, concealed Joalina. The real one was the unblushing, wild Jo who couldn’t care less about what her grandmother – or, indeed, anyone – thought of her.
Suddenly, the doors flew open, and a tornado swept into the room. “My dear, dear, Granny Mel -”
A pretty lady (fake beautiful) about twenty-two years of age stopped short as she noticed the figure beside her grandmother. She looked resplendent in a violet bobbinet gown and a black cardigan. Her auburn hair, which she’d inherited from her father, was let down in graceful waves that touched upon her neck, around which sat a fat pearl necklace.
She had a bony face with hollow cheeks. Her complexion was like Jo’s – wheatish, but mostly a pleasant copper colour. She had a pair of hazel eyes framed with coquettish, unusually thick lashes. Her permanently-arched eyebrows disappeared into a fashionable fringe, and her lips were slathered with dark lipstick.
“…Jo?” she said, shock overtaking her pretty features. Her brain whirred at double the speed. Her sister never dressed this fashionable, not even when visiting the Queen. Which only meant…
“Oh my gosh,” she said, rushing to her sister. Then she suddenly whipped around and gave Lord Alenback a guilty smile. “I’m so sorry, Mr…”
“Lord Alenback,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a warm grin.
“Lord Alenback,” she said, dipping into one of the deepest curtsies he’d ever seen. Granted, he hadn’t seen many, but her nose seemed to knock against her knees. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you before.”
Rio temporarily froze up, and the pretty spirit of Jo spoke for the first time. “You wouldn’t have, dear Helene. He’s very introverted. Indeed, it took me two months to get to know him and another two to have him propose to me,” She gave a comforting smile in Lord Alenback’s direction; he eased up.
Alex gave a long, dry cough, but Helene ignored him completely. He cleared his throat and prepared to cough again, then Melody gave him a piercing stare, and he disappeared into the shadows.
“You… sprung it up on us,” said Helene, trying to make it sound civil.
“I did,” she said brightly.
“Still, we mustn’t ruin this happy occasion. Éclair, Lord Alenback?” Melody gestured him to a platter of éclairs that were delicately balanced on a sheet of Alencon lace.
“No thank you,” Lord Alenback said politely.
“Then let’s get to business,” said Helene, seating herself daintily on the bed. “Hold on.”
She rang a bell. A maid came in, and she instructed her to fetch her mother and her fiancé.
“What is it, my dear?” said Cornelia Rosegood when summoned.
By any account, she wasn’t beautiful, or even pretty. She had delicate features – for the first time Rio understood what all the famous authors meant by porcelain features. Around her nose was a fancy, sapphire-studded nose-ring that went with her white camlet frock and blue, dyed-fur cloak. To complete the look, she had a string of sapphires tied around her slender neck that jingled as she moved.
Apart from that, she wasn’t exactly beautiful – her nose was too small to be recognised, and her milky eyes were far too big, like an inquisitive toddler’s. The only truly beautiful thing about her was her golden blonde hair that Jo seemed to have inherited. For once, Rio understood just why Melody Rosegood was so proud of her conventional granddaughter.
“Joalina?” Cornelia breathed. “Honey?”
“Mother,” Joalina Rosegood smiled delicately. She suddenly disappeared into the folds of Cornelia’s fur cloak.
“Cornelia, honey,” said Melody with an irritatingly warm smile; “turn around and meet the boy.”
“The boy?” said Cornelia, for it had yet not registered in her tiny brain that there must be a reason for her beloved daughter to dress up like that. Then it clicked, and she slowly turned around, a juxtaposition next to Helene’s reaction.
“Nice to meet you,” said Mr Alenback, kissing her outstretched hand.
“Nice to meet you too,” she said, curtsying first to him and then to Alex. “I can’t believe it. My darling, young Jo – marrying – I -”
Thankfully, the emotional drama was cut short by the appearance of James Sharpe.
He was dazzlingly handsome. He had cornflower blue eyes barely visible behind a fringe of messy white-blonde hair. His face was of the kind where every expression looked like a blessing sent from Heaven itself. He first kissed all the ladies’ hands, bowed to the males, and then hugged his fiancée.
“What is it, Helene?” he said softly.
“Jo’s getting married,” she whispered to him out of the corner of her mouth.
“Really?” he seemed amused. “I mean, congratulations, Jo.”
“Thank you, James,” she said with an all-knowing smile.
“I must confess, it’s rather unexpected, Jo,” said Cornelia, still seeming to absorb the shock.
“I didn’t want to give you any basis before there was anything solid,” Joalina Rosegood said, giving a perfectly good explanation.
“So when did you meet each other?” Melody asked, putting one hand around Jo’s waist.
“It was truly a coincidence. I was vising Alessia Gunwick, the great Lord Gunwick’s daughter when suddenly her elder brother strode in with his friend. As soon I met him – his friend, not him – I knew he was something special,” Jo smiled at Lord Alenback.
“So you’re royalty?” Helene addressed Lord Alenback.
He sent a panicked look towards Jo; under Melody’s suspicious gaze, she nodded.
“As much as royalty can be in these trying times,” he began. “After all, is royalty merely fancy China teacups or maybe éclairs? Or is the royalty that feeling of superiority you get? The human mind is very complex. What we interpret as royalty is a mere stand in relation to another. Then again, it matters from the perspective. Every signal we dare send out to the universe is another code yet to be construed. That is, it depends on the receiver, not the sender. Of course, on the other hand, the code is designed, and manufactured by the sender itself – which means that it depends more on the sender – not the receiver. So, I conclude, ma’am – I am as part of royalty as anybody else.”
It was a very cleverly designed speech, you must say. Of course, it was designed based on the important fact that nobody in the Rosegood family had the patience to, say, construe it – apart from Jo. As such, it was her who had manoeuvred the speech and drill it into Lord Alenback’s mind. However, the delivery and delineation of it had been left to Lord Alenback – and god knew he had done it fabulously.
“O-K,” said Helene, thoroughly confused but thoroughly masking it. “So, you want to come to ask for her hand?”
Lord Alenback distinctly nodded.
“Well, we’re happy to give it – considering that Jo really wants to get married to you,” said Cornelia, beaming at her daughter. “Well, Jo?”
“We’ll give them some time to talk,” Melody said.
Jo led Lord Alenback out. They crossed the hallway to the other side, where, behind a pair of brocade curtains, was a balcony that overlooked the estate grounds.
“This is what you want, huh?” Rio ventured, pulling furiously at his tie.
“I don’t want it,” Jo said softly. “I just don’t want Alvin and Helene to have it.”
He gave a blunt laugh.
“I mean,” she continued, “I have my reasons.”
“Go ahead,” said Rio.
“Alvin doesn’t want to stay here. He admitted it, from a young age. He was sick of this town and everybody in it. No, he wanted to move abroad. Start a new life, somewhere else. Where people didn’t look at him like the fabulous Sterling Rosegood’s son. So, honestly, it would be a waste of the estate to give it to him. The business he could manage – yes, he had quite the business head. But the estate – no, it was definite that he would transfer all the occupants somewhere else and sell off the estate at a high price. And we’d be impacted by it – losing a chunk of our heritage.
Then we come to Helene. The point is, whereas Alvin had a business head, she had a business heart. She was the kind who led with her heart – always. For her, it was always on the spot. She was the character who’d do the act now and live to regret it later.”
“I don’t get it,” Rio admitted. “How is that bad?”
“Think of it… Mother gives us both each a hundred bucks, in ten buck notes, to give the beggars on the street. Assume there were ten beggars. So what Helene would do would be to give all the ten notes to the first and sorriest beggar there was, and breeze through the others apologising then she had no more to give them.
What I would do would be to spend it wisely – that is, give each of them ten bucks. Do you get it? Helene has a good heart – an excellent, golden heart. But in managing the real world, you don’t need a gold heart. You need a golden mind.”
“You thought of all this?” asked Rio a few seconds later.
She shook her head a few seconds later. “A few days before… you know what, Papa called me to his room. he was in bed, sick, but he had the energy to tell me about the will he was drafting. He told me all this – not to turn me against my siblings, you see, or to consider myself superior – but to tell me the reasoning. He always knew a fight of sorts would erupt over this extraordinary pronouncement, but he… reserved me to fight for his will.”
She paused for a moment, then continued. “It’s this feeling I had after he told the secret to me, Rio. A kind of feeling that only a secret can bring you. A sort of wild, erratic, elated feeling. In parts, I felt special. Like I was the only one who knew the secret – which was true. I felt like the world’s golden child.
On the other hand, I also felt scared, especially after he died. My stomach started churning. I felt nervous because I was entrusted to keep a secret and I couldn’t be sure what it would reap, in some ways. It was a mixed feeling, and I hated that. Then finally the will came into light, and I let go of my old fears – only to be cornered by new ones. What if my siblings detested me? I knew Alvin wouldn’t mind much, but Helene would be struck hard. And she was. After that day, we were… never the same.” She finished her long speech. “Anyway,” she said hastily, “we should be getting back.”
“Seemed like you had a good long talk,” smiled Helene. “All is well, I trust?”
“Perfectly well, dear sister,” Jo beamed.
“We want to go ahead,” confirmed Lord Alenback.
“That’s great,” Helene said. “However, I and James had a talk too, while you were gone, and we thought of a few things.”
James Sharpe took it forward. “You know the will, right? Everyone does?” he turned to Lord Alenback, who nodded.
“Excellent. So, we just wanted to ask, won’t this affect the position of the will?” this time he turned to Alex, who was a lawyer by profession, and indeed the lawyer who was in charge of Sterling Rosegood’s will.
“It would rather,” he admitted. “Whoever got married first, even by seconds, would inherit the property.”
“That could emerge in a war of sorts,” said Melody slowly, the world’s sharpest mind.
Cornelia laughed delightfully. “Oh, don’t kid, Mother.”
“Honestly, Cornelia. I can practically see their young minds whirring.”
Cornelia Rosegood laughed again. “Well then,” she said, sobering up, “let’s see who wins.”
The End
Chapter 6
The truest thing Melody Rosegood had said in her 80-year-old life was that war could emerge. The most untrue thing she’d ever said was that her youngest granddaughter looked like a cucumber from the second she was born. But that’s left that, and dive back into the story.
The date was fixed not by consulting the stars or calculating the sun clocks movement. No, it was done by the method only the younger generation could think of. In short, the method of spying.
The females, ever the cold masterminds, sent the males hunting for information. The second James realised that the other couple were planning to keep it on the 13th, he rushed back to her and they changed to the 12th. When Rio realised that they were keeping it on the 12th, he changed it to the 10th.
The process kept repeating itself like a comedy sequence until, finally, both parties came to an agreement of the day after the next. It couldn’t be the next because they had no preparations at all – no gala preparations, no band, and certainly no guest list.
Though both parties were civil while face-to-face, behind the other’s back they would conspire and connive and seethe about each other. Not very harshly, but harshly nevertheless.
The next day was a flurry of preparations. Melody Rosegood was summoned by Joalina and Cornelia Rosegood by Helene. The best hairdressers, dressmakers and speechwriters from around the globe had been called and requested to help prepare the soon-to-be-weds. Artists were called to replicate the exact designs from the fiancées’ minds to paper. Dressmakers were pressurised to sew together magnificent, customised masterpieces in a matter of hours. Party planners and occasion organisers were assembled and asked to create the most elaborate and grand party settings they could. Amongst them, the old dowager would have the final say as to which to bring to life.
Suddenly, unknown people were traversing Rosegood’s property, discussing blueprints and decorations. Flowers were kept everywhere, tinsel garlanded the hallways, and purple hearts were in abundance. Even the personal bedrooms were bedecked with festoons and banners that held pictures of both Helene and James and Joalina and Lord Alenback.
Speaking of pictures, all the great pavilions and gazebos were dusted and prepared for the wedding shoot. The soon-to-be-weds were summoned, and asked to pose against a rose bush, or an ornate marble lion, or a beautiful swing over a creek. Even Melody and Cornelia were called and asked to supervise and give their feedback; on one occasion Melody was even forced to put an arm around Jo!
In short, the estate was a hub of activity. Until it, all soothed down the next day.
*
The Rosegood approach towards life was a very excellent one – at least in their eyes. Step one was to hurry it all, prepare everything in a haste, and do everything in a flurry of anxiety the day before. Step two was to step up to the task required and perform it cool as ice the next day. Everything happened backstage. But once the curtain fell, the actual stage was what mattered.
The wedding was a suitable epitome. The day before was simply too hectic to live through. But the next day was tranquil – maybe even peaceful. All the occupants of the Rosegood Household woke up at five, and got dressed as slowly as they could for the wedding declaration at eight. Breakfast would be at nine, so they ate a few bananas and pocketed the rest to nibble on during the ceremony.
The fiancées, as tradition, dressed in shades of purple and mauve. The fiancés, as customary, dressed in shades of silver and black. Cornelia and Melody Rosegood dressed in the most shimmery golden dresses they could find.
In the end, it was an exciting procession that made its way to the biggest gazebo, around which chairs and long buffet tables had been erected. This was a rule in the town – the engagement, estate and grounds could be as fancy as possible, but the actual wedding had to be simple and quick. Alas, it was not meant to be so.
*
The people assembled from ten minutes to eight. They were an assorted crowd – extended relations, friends, and royalty alike. They were all wearing gold – the colour of the on-seers.
“My dear friends and family,” said Cornelia Rosegood, standing on the floor of the main gazebo, a grand desk behind her. She looked out at all the men, women, and children beneath her, and her face suffused with joy. It was a mother’s dream to be there to attend her children’s weddings – or, in this case, weddings. “This is a very impromptu wedding. Indeed, I myself did not know about it until two days ago.” she gave a tinkling laugh. “But what can we say, Mademoiselles – monsieurs? When love strikes, all we can do is embrace it/rush things.” She gazed dreamily at a far-off tree, where undoubtedly a milestone had occurred, then apparently came back to Earth. “But forgive me for prattling on. For this is not my ceremony. It’s my children’s.”
You had to give it to her – the woman may not look pretty, but she gave a good speech.
“So let’s give it up for Helene, my elder daughter – and James, her lover!”
Helene swept up. if she’d looked resplendent before, it was nothing compared to how she looked now. She looked nervous but elated. Next to her was James, looking happy and cheerful as they posed for the pictures.
“Next up is my younger daughter – Joalina and her lover, Lord Alenback!”
They ascended Lord Alenback’s arm around Joalina’s shoulders, her arm around his waist. Like Helene and James they posed for a few seconds, then joined the pair at the desk.
“Now, we all what’s going to happen – the race to sign the certificate first! I suspect that’s the main reason most of you are gathered here – that, or the free food!”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Well, let’s get to it,” said Cornelia, flipping the Rosegood Marriage Certificate Book open to a free page. The format was already there, so she stepped to the corner, but still played commentator.
“Three, two -” the crowd chanted.
“Hold it, please,” said a voice. It was the kind that made you listen. Powerful. It was powerful.
Alvin Sterling Rosegood ascended the stairs. He looked handsome in a just-ironed suit and slick-black hair.
“Thank you, everyone, for stopping everything and looking at me,” he said sharply. The few people stuffing cake into their mouths stopped and turned in his direction. “Thank you. Now, I would want to declare it to you – something monumental, if you might. Mother, I must ask you to flip to the page before the open one,” he turned towards Cornelia.
“My dear, I don’t quite understand,” she said, running a swift glance over the gathering.
“Mother, if you will,” he said politely.
Reluctantly, Cornelia Rosegood flipped the page behind them. Then she stared in shock at the book. “Alvin, I don’t know what to make of this -” she began.
Alvin put up a hand. “Please, let me continue. Everybody, what my dear, beloved mother has found at the page is not her marriage declaration with my late father – god bless his soul – but mine. But how is that possible? After all, the latest marriage in the family was hers. That is where my mama went wrong. Indeed, if you look at the date, a new certificate was signed. Please read out the names, Mother.”
Giving him a stern glance, she read out, “Alvin Sterling Rosegood henceforth is tied to Violet Ada Milderwoode -” a collective gasp ran through the crowd as the name sparked recognition in most people’s minds, “- for all eternity.”
“Is it – genuine?” said Helene, throwing Alvin a look best described as threatening.
“Indeed it is, dear sister. I have two eyewitnesses – one, my friend Renaldo and two, the butler, Mr Frankine. You will find this signature beneath mine and Vi’s if you care to look.”
Helene’s ashen face told the crowd all it needed to know.
“But who is this – Violet?” voiced Lord Alenback.
A woman ascended the staircase regally. She wasn’t beautiful, tall, or pretty – just a plain old girl.
“Everyone behold the new Violet Rosegood,” said Alvin, putting an arm around her waist.
This was too much for Helene. She ran down the stairs, tears streaking her face, and James, with a furious look at Alvin, followed her.
What followed after was Cornelia and Melody drawing Alvin aside for a private talk, then Alvin apologising to Jo, Lord Alenback, and James. He tried to apologise to Helene, but she locked her bedroom door from the inside.
*
Chapter 7
“I’m glad you’ve all come here,” said Alvin, at the next Rosegood conclave.
He looked around Jo’s indiscernible face to Lord Alenback’s equally imperceptible one, to James’ angry one. “Helene didn’t come?” he asked him.
James shook his head. “She sent me here instead,” he said bitterly.
“All right then. I trust you will tell her the contents of this meeting.” He turned back to his grandmother. “First of all, I have to clear up some facts. I meant no trickery here. It was a mere chance that I honestly wanted to marry Violet -” his face lit up at the mention of her name; “- but I didn’t think you’d approve of it.”
“Quite rightly,” Melody admitted.
“So you have to understand the steps I took. I was planning to marry her – no fixed date, you get it – but then I fell upon some gossip that Jo and Helene were meant to marry on the same date, and I sought my opportunity. It was for dramatics that I reserved it for before the crowd. There’s another reason too. I knew that no matter who signed it first, the other would be unhappy. So this was a quick way to escape that situation.
The next thing to be cleared up is that I’m not going to be a bear-eater. That is, I’m not going to be hungry for both the estate and the business. No, I’m not. I’m going to split it in three ways. First, the estate.” He turned towards James. “I’m going to sell the estate to you and my sister – at a very low cost, of course. You can run and manage it any way you like.
Second, is the national business. The national business I’m going to give to you, Jo. You and Lord Alenback. I know you have the right mind and temperament for it. Third, is the international sector. I’m going to run it myself, with Vi helping me occasionally. We plan to settle abroad, maybe in India, and lead a happy life there.”
He paused, looking at the five people gathered in front of him. “Please, just give it a go.”
And with that, he bowed and left.
*
A few days later, a young couple was seen walking in a park.
“Well,” Rio said, sipping some tea, “I suppose there’s no reason for me to meet you anymore.”
Jo looked up sharply. “Not even for music lessons?”
“Except for the lessons,” he corrected himself.
She returned to her tea. “It was nice pretending to be married to you, for what it’s worth.” Only Joalina Rosegood could say a statement like that without blushing.
Rio smiled. “Same. Anyway, I’ve got to go, so…”
He turned, but he was barely three steps away when Jo raised her voice and sang with her trademark, unconventional voice.
“I let you go the first time.
But I regretted it.
So darling, don’t you go again,
And leave me in the quicksand pit.”
Rio slowly turned.
“Running like the waters,
Of the good ol’ sea,
Dancing like the sunset
Is right beneath your feet.
Oh, darling, don’t you go again,
And leave me yearning for more
Cause no matter where you’ll go,
I will follow,” she ended on a low note.
“Quicksand,” Rio breathed. “The first song we ever did together.”
She gave a small smile.
He took one step closer.
“I want to tell you this,” she said slowly. “For all that you helped me, I wanted to thank you.”
She slowly went to her knees and brought out a red velvet case; Rio and all the curious onlookers in the park gasped.
“Rio Adolphus Alenback,” she said, smiling like never before, “will you marry me?”
Of course, needless to say, he accepted it. Isn’t that what happens? False marriage, they break apart, then realise they actually need each other? It happens in all the great Bollywood movies, anyway. I mean, who here hasn’t binged Bollywood?
Years later, Rio Alenback, the husband of Joalina Alenback, swore he could still remember that fateful moment when she started singing,
“I let you go the first time.
But I regretted it.
So darling, don’t you go again,
And leave me in the quicksand pit.”
*
The End
1 (Please login to give a Curious Clap to your friend.)
SignUp to Participate Now! Win Certifiates and Prizes.
Login/Signup