"A murder attempt?" Austen shouted, echoing my thoughts. "That's impossible! It must've been before my family arrived!"

When was this?

How do I act?

I looked to Dylan, who ignored me, and Vaughn only looked at me in mock pity.

"Poor Blanche, I felt this matter must be known to the men at least. You see, it happened last night, when Olivia and her daughters, were here too."

He was lying!

My wide eyes at him were taken as very realistic anger at him spilling my secret and Calvin nodded in understanding. Irene and the maids also went to the big windows behind us to let down the curtains, falling down and being drawn as though we were behind a stage.

"What happened?" Austen asked.

"It cannot be said in case this escalates," Dylan interjected quickly. "We want to keep Blanche's privacy most of all."

"I see, so it's that bad," Calvin mused.

I swallowed and looked at my whiskey in guilt and to act the part of a heiress with a murder attempt. I learned enough from Ruby to twiddle awkwardly with my drink as Austen and Vaughn took big, long sips. Dylan took a small sip. I watched the ice move in the glass.

"Oh, I don't know what to say. You mentioned only a female could do it?" Austen asked.

"Well, you could, technically," Vaughn said as he rubbed his chin in thought, "and maybe even Calvin, as he could always say it was for Ruby."

"What? I'd never hurt Blanche!" Calvin shouted.

"What if Ruby hurt Blanche?"

"No! It'd never happen—"

"Then what if one day you witness it?" Vaughn asked, eyes growing cold. "Your mother, sister, maybe even wife or daughter. You see them, they have a handgun, it's pointed to Blanche's temple. Blanche is tied to a chair, they are overpowering her. What will you do?"

"If it's Claribel I would jump and pull her back," Calvin said quickly.

"No! It's Ruby!" Vaughn's eyes were strange, mad yet calm. "And for you, Austen, it's your wife or daughter. Forget Scarlett." Austen sitting next to him stiffened.

"No, that wouldn't happen!" Calvin argued. "Not Ruby!"

"Nor my family!"

Vaughn leaned forward to Calvin, then to Austen. He point a finger to his temple and the man's eyes grew in fear.

"But they are in this scenario," Vaughn continued on, voice growing speed, words merging. "Blanche is tied to a chair. They suddenly want to kill her, jealousy, or maybe a misunderstanding, they have a gun and point at Blanche. You are too far to do anything, if you run she'd shoot. She had the gun and cocks it. Now what!"

"No, no way," Austen whimpered.

"Calvin! Austen! It's happening, she cocks the gun." Vaughn pointed the metal tongs at me. "But you have a gun yourself, and you're aiming it. She doesn't notice because she's busy looking at Blanche. Three, she's in position, two, she is ready to pull it, and—"

"I will shoot!" Calvin spoke before Austen, who still doesn't.

Calvin sobbed, shaken by Vaughn's constant eye contact, and Austen placed his head in his hands.

"I don't know! I can't, they are my family! I can't kill them!"

"Austen, you won't do anything? Even if they killed, let's say, Dylan?" Vaughn's eyes could've killed, it was full of disgust.

"What do you want to to do? Lie? Say I would protect these—my nephew and this woman I barely know?" Austen was honest, but he was also close to tears.

"I said that only because I know and believe in Ruby. She would never hurt Blanche," Calvin added, wiping his face.

"Now, now, it's the alcohol. It's gotten to Vaughn," I said quickly. "It might be Scarlett, after all."

"Even Scarlett is family!" Austen cried.

Sure.

Dylan sighed. "Uncle, straighten up. There's nothing happening, it was only a scenario. Either way, I hope you two will report anything suspicious to us, privately too, preferable Vaughn and I at the same time. Blanche, be aware."

"Of course." I took a few more sips as the two crying men calmed down.

I drank my whiskey, bitter but nostalgic of my past. I placed it down softly, hoping I would hear the ice hit the glass again. The sound always bothered me—maybe it was because it was something that reminded me of men like him, rich, old white men seeking women and pleasure with their wealth.

"You sure can take your alcohol, Blanche," Vaughn said, relaxing into his chair.

"Oh, it wasn't to my liking," I said with a small laugh. "And I do feel tipsy. Can someone escort me to my room?"

"I will," Dylan said quickly, and stood up. He turned to Vaughn for a moment but I couldn't see his face. Then he held my waist softly, gently, and we left for the stairs.

Every step I took he held me carefully and made sure I didn't fall, but I was more alert than ever.

It was the perfect opportunity. I'd tell him I was taking the spot of his Rose. Tell him my past with his father before Vaughn finds out from his diary or somehow. I needed to tell him!

We walked up the hallway and I stopped for a moment, feet wobbling in my high heels. Dylan stopped too, hand tighter around my waist.

"Rose—"

"Look at them." I pointed my chin to them. Instead of laughs, the men spoke in hushed voices somberly. Only Calvin was sniffing and probably still thinking of Ruby. "It's such a strange house. You can see everything from the stairs, and yet you weren't at the stairs the day you thought I was Blanche."

"I'm sorry about my—uh, first impression." Dylan was similar to Calvin in a way, and maybe even Austen. Awkward and careful not to hurt anyone and protective. But he wasn't like his father.

"It wasn't the first time someone said I looked like someone."

"You didn't look like Lucinda. Really, I hardly remember her," Dylan said. "And this house has always been like that. People say we have cursed blood. The Curse of the de Winter. Only women somehow are subject to this curse. My grandfather who owned this house abused several women and had three wives, separately, of course. Only Austen and Scarlett and that men are from his legal marriages."

"Why did he choose that man to inherit it?" I asked, now turning to watch his face. His eyes seemed to be looking far away and even sorrowful, just like Rose's parents that day.

"They were similar. It's an awful house, really. It bothers me, too, he had that room made, Vaughn's room, I meant, to bring women to secretly. Maybe that's why I gave it to Vaughn. It's meant for the master of the house but I don't think you nor I would want it."

"Yes, I wouldn't want it. Strange how this bloodline was given to Blanche. Was she the same, twisted and unloved?"

He paused and shuddered from my question. "I don't know, but let's hurry to your room, you seem drunk."

"I wanted to tell you something. I'm sober, and it'll be a serious talk."

"Yes, now let's hurry, Rosemarie, I'll have Irene come after the talk is over."

We arrived in my room and I immediately unstrapped my shoes and changed into my slippers.

"I have to bath tonight," I said out loud by accident. Sometimes I only bathed every other day but now it was a luxury to be enjoyed. "The ball is in two days, sorry for saying something so strange."

"No, I don't mind, but what did you want to talk about?"

Looking away I took off my necklace, a string of pearls with a red garnet hanging.

"Oh, the girl you liked, Rose, went by Rosemarie. Her sister was Rosalind. Her mother is a blonde, with grey eyes. She has platinum hair by now. She's on the heavier side, maybe my height, and has a mole on her chin. Like Rose."

"Yes?" Dylan said. "But she—she didn't go by Rosemarie did she? Or else aren't you—?"

"I am not Rosemarie." I smiled at him, my nerves weakening with his unmoving frown and despite opening his mouth he couldn't say anything. "I'm not Rosemarie Blackwood."

He inhaled sharply but continued to meet my eyes.

"You lied to us? Are you Blanche? Are you my—my sister?"

I scoffed without meaning to.

"I'm not Blanche," I said. "I'm a Jew, and I wish I was born into wealth. My dad was a poor doctor and he died. My mom wanted me out of the house when I was sixteen."

"I don't understand. Who are you?"

"I don't want to tell you my real name, or anything besides that," I said truthfully. "Let's just say this, I'm not Rosemarie, I've been living as her for her family."

"I don't understand!" Dylan was fired up as I expected. He pulled up a seat before sitting before me. "Tell me everything. No lies. Promise."

I sighed before I looked away.

"Fine," I whispered. "No lies."