Chapter Twenty-One: The Letter
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My dear friends,
If you're reading this, then I am long gone. I've returned to my home in France to continue fighting for the Revolution and wanted to say goodbye. Each and every one of you meant so much to me, and have made the palace feel like my home. Anthony, I'll miss the way you obsessively tended to your precious garden, and always managed to make me smile. Anne, I'll miss the time we spent baking together... You've become like a mother to me. Trinity, Fran, and Alice, I've never had truer friends than the three of you, and I'll miss you all dearly. Samuel, you were always there for me, offering me advice, a smile, or a stupid joke that only you could understand, and I'll miss that. And Dot and Darwin, you're both the sweetest children I've ever met, and just know, that you have an entire future ahead of you, one where you can do anything you want. All of you were like my family, and I am truly sorry that I now must leave you. I love you all dearly, goodbye.
Sincerely, Rosalie Alcott
One Year Later
A smile curled at the corners of my lips, as the ship docked at the harbour. It had been nearly a year since I'd been in France, and I'd missed it. That's not to say America was bad. It was exhilarating to finally be on the battlefield again, fighting for the revolution. And we'd won! I breathed in the salty air, as I stepped off the ship, and onto the dock.
"Attendez mois!" Lafayette shouted from behind me, toting several bags, the contents of which I could only guess.
"Well hurry up, then." I laughed, as he fell into step beside me.
"Where are you headed now?" he asked.
"Out of the harbour."
"No, I mean in life. What will you do now that the war is won?" he persisted.
"I'm not sure. I think I'll pay a visit to my hometown." I said, causing his brows to raise.
"I thought you were an orphan?"
"I had a home, once. I've been wishing to see it as of late." I answered, and it was the truth.
I hadn't been able to visit after I'd returned from England, though I'd wished to. Now was the first time since that dream I'd had all those months ago, that I was actually able to go.
"And what do you plan to do?" I questioned him.
"America has won its freedom. Now it is France's turn, and I intend to fight for it." he stated firmly.
"Well, I'll be seeing you, mon ami." I paused at the side of a carriage, handing the coachman some coins, "Good luck."
"Aurevoir." he smiled, as I stepped into the carriage.
The ride back to my hometown took up the rest of the day, and I watched through the window as the sun sunk passed the horizon. At last, we arrived. Nostalgia flooded back to me, as my gaze trailed over the familiar cobblestone streets. The quaint little houses lining the roads. The children playing on porches. And then, I saw it. The bakery.
The last time I'd ever seen it, was the day Marie died. It looked different, older. I approached the building, pushing open the door. Inside, it looked the same as ever. The wooden countertops, the rustic tables.
"How can I help you?" a man's voice asked, as he exited the back room.
When he saw me, he stopped short, eyes widening. I allowed a small smile, as I steadily approached him.
"Lucien?" I asked, my voice cracking.
I hadn't seen him in ages. When Marie had adopted me, Lucien had just moved out, but he still visited his mother and I often. He was like a brother to me. When Marie died, he'd been away to fight in the war, and wasn't able to adopt me himself. And so, I was forced to stay with Marie's sister, and was returned to the orphanage before Lucien could come home.
"By God, is that... Is that you, Rosalie?"
"It is." I nodded.
All at once, he crossed the room, drawing me into a strong embrace. He pulled away moments later, tears in his eyes, as he looked over my face.
"I missed you so much. Look how you've grown!" he wept.
"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to return it's just that I... I feared that you might hate me. After what happened to Marie." I looked away from him, my head lowering shamefully.
"How you could ever think that is beyond me. The only thing you've done that's made me angry is staying away for so long."
"Papa?" the voice of a child came from the back room, and I turned to find a little girl, no more than three years old, tiredly rubbing her eyes.
"Annette, what are you doing up?" Lucien turned to the girl, evidently his daughter, scooping her up in his arms.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"My daughter, Annette." he smiled.
"She's beautiful." I reached out to grasp her hand, "I'm Rosalie."
"Rosie." the child giggled, causing my heart to ache.
The nickname reminded me of the twins, of the palace. I shook the melancholy thoughts from my mind, focusing my attention on Annette and Lucien.
"Emile? Darling, there's someone I'd like you to meet." Lucien called, and a moment later, a woman entered the room, "This is Rosalie Alcott, my... my sister."
"The Rosalie Alcott? The one you told me about?" the woman smiled, rushing to my side, and taking my hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, dear."
"The pleasure is all mine. You must be Lucien's wife?"
"I am." she answered, turning to her husband, "Why don't you two catch up, I'll put Annette to sleep."
"Thank you," Lucien smiled, handing the sleepy looking child to his wife, before turning to me, "Come, there's something I wanted to give you."
He led me into the back room, and up the stairs to a study in the loft above the bakery. After a moment spent sifting through papers in his desk, he pulled out an envelope, addressed to me. I looked at him, with a quizzical expression clear on my face.
"It's from my mother. She wrote it before she died. I would've given it to you sooner, had I known where you were." he said, handing me the envelope.
I stared at it for a few moments, before turning it over, and opening it, pulling out a yellowed piece of paper. My heart was racing, as I scanned the words.
My dearest Rosalie,
My darling child, I'm so sorry that you are reading this letter, because it means that I've passed on. I can't possibly tell you how hard it has been to keep my sickness from you, but I couldn't bring myself to burden you. I know that it might kill me, and that's not something I want you to worry about. I've no idea where to begin. See, I've put a tremendous pressure on myself, as this letter will serve as my last piece of advice to you. I trust that you'll remember the very first lesson I taught you? That you must see the good in the world. Well, I know that your past has made it difficult for you to do so. But this is what I want you to do, my Rose.
Find someone who will change that. You don't let people in, and I know my death will probably worsen that. But Rosalie, I beg of you. When you grow older, you'll find someone who will make you laugh, and cry. They'll make you love them and hate them all at once. But most of all, they'll earn your trust. Rose, when you find that person, don't push them away. Don't give up on them, because you deserve the love that they will give you. I want, more than anything in this life, for you to find happiness, a family, a place you can call your home. Just promise me that when you do find that, hold on to it.
And most importantly, my dear, never give up. No matter how dark things look, no matter how bad and hopeless it gets, keep holding on, like the strong and smart girl that I know you are. I only wish it didn't have to be like this. I only wish I could've been the mother you deserved. Goodbye, my darling, I'll be watching over you all your life, don't ever forget that.
Love, Marie.
A tear escaped from the corner of my eye, as I read over the words, soaking in their meaning. I'd done exactly what Marie had warned me against. I'd thrown away my happiness, my home, my family. I'd pushed him away. The man that could make me laugh cry, hate him, and even love him.
That was it. I'd made a terrible mistake. I loved the King, and I had to go back.
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