Meet Wyatt Dover Benson. 

Meet Felix Schubert.

———————

Rose breathed in deeply as she walked between small trees in the garden with Leslie behind the Bensons' large castle-like home. The garden connected with a forest in the further back. It was quiet enough to hear birds chirp. A sound Rose hadn't heard in the busy streets of London in forever. It was relaxing and she wanted to enjoy this moment as long as she could. The morning had been quiet and uneventful, which she had enjoyed, having time to think thoroughly over her situation.

Leslie had informed her that Alder would leave to Manchester tomorrow morning, so she wouldn't be seeing him around for a while. And Golda Benson was a woman to meet up with her friends frequently. In short, this family never stayed in their house. These were good news. Not having to deal with them would always be better than having to please them as the Esmé she wasn't.

The garden was heavy with roses. The one thing Rose did enjoy so far, were all the flowers and paintings this house was covered in, embellishing it. It was refreshing and nostalgic at the same time. It resembled her home in 2020 a little bit. Her mother loved plants and paintings, too. Of course, the Davies' house was much smaller yet it still had the same atmosphere. But it was much more welcoming.

"Wow," Rose blurted out, spotting two horses alfresco. "You didn't tell me, we have these here!" Rose rushed over, watching the peaceful creatures with amazement sparkling in her eyes. One was white, the other a nice light brown. They looked majestic.

"Well," Leslie followed Rose, "You like to go into the forest with them." She stated. Rose whirled around.

"Me?" Leslie nodded, smiling.

"But the white one is new."

"Oh," Rose held her hand out, caressing the white one.

"This is Schimmel, my Lady." An old man walked to their right. He moved closer, bowing his head. Rose watched him, returning the small gesture with a warm smile. He was a butler, Rose recognized by his attire. The classical suit for a majordomo. Black with a matching tie.

"This is Felix Schubert." Leslie whispered, "He is the Bensons' butler." Rose looked at him, eying him from head to toe. He was tall and fit even, although you could tell, he had aged. His smile was sincere and so was the glimpse in his eyes.

"She just arrived from Saudi Arabia." He explained.

"Schimmel is German, right?" Rose asked him.

"And so is your name. Schubert comes from Schuhmann." He nodded, surprised.

Mr Schubert stared at Rose confused, unable to respond. His eyes moved to the horse, "My Lady," He smiled warmly again, "You knew that I was German but I didn't know that you looked into it further."

She didn't. Rose knew a lot about Germany. Her father had been German. Daniel Wagner. Rose had his hazel eyes. And being reminded that she grew up without seeing him ever, or without being able to recall one single memory with him, wavered her sometimes. But there was no need to tear up in front of people she didn't know. People she couldn't tell the truth about who she was.

Rose had lost her father in a car accident when she was two years old. She always wanted to use his surname. Though, her mother thought that there was no use in that. But she liked to introduce herself as Rose Wagner Davies on some occasions. Having the butler Felix Schubert here made her heart feel full, she couldn't tell why. Having some people with smiling faces around was exonerating, especially after the dinner she had with the Bensons last night.

Rose sighed, meeting his eyes. "I've been enjoying looking into different European countries lately. You're German, so I decided to study the Germans first."

Rose was progressively getting better at lying. As someone whose lips never dared to speak anything else than the truth, her new world forced her to. Mr Schubert's face lit up, nodding. And with a wide grin on his face, he excused himself, turning back to caring for the horses. Leslie and Rose turned around to walking back towards the house.

"He seems nice," Rose remarked with a slight pout playing on her lips.

"He is." Leslie approved. "He cares a lot for you and your brother." Right, Wyatt Benson. He was still nowhere to be found.

"So, tell me," Rose began with a deep sigh, facing Leslie, "Do I always stay at home like this?"

Leslie chuckled at the sudden question, "Yes. You read books. You don't have many friends. You like being alone but," A blush forming on her cheeks, "You used to meet some men frequently."

Some men? As in, one is not enough? Rose coughed, feeling as if all air was swept out of her lungs. Staring at Leslie, she shook her head. "Am I a playgirl or what?"

Leslie was puzzled, hearing Rose's choice of words. "If being a playgirl means that you enjoy meeting men and that you like being coquet sometimes, then yes. But recently, you withdrew from it."

Oh, I withdrew?! Rose huffed, she'd try everything to save her neck, but being a mistress was not in her plans. Playing with a stone on the ground and kicking it, she felt offended. Although, she knew that Leslie wasn't referring to her, she tried to play it cool. Why was she even trying to find out what Esmé liked, when she didn't think of complying in the first place? 

Obviously, the woman, whose body she was trapped inside had been different from her.

"But recently, you've been meeting the same man. A potential lover." It seemed as if Leslie was enjoying tingling Rose's nerves the more this conversation proceeded.

"Why is everything you say not fit for my ears?" Rose arched an eyebrow, stopping in her track. "Or my sanity?"

"Your father wants you to become engaged," Leslie added, as if she was adding the cherry on top of Rose's frustration. Her eyes were about to pop out, ruffling her hair aggressively.

"Don't make a muddle out of it. Who's he?"

"Jack Winston," Leslie stated. "He's been into you for a long time. He's going to visit you tomorrow."

Rose was on the edge of making a bolt for an exit. She looked up, staring into the forest in front of her, that seemingly elongated into the darkness and promised a good hideout. Should she just run? And never turn back? Build herself a new life? Even if it was meant to be in this era? Because the Bensons gave her crap. And she felt full already. Full to her throat. And it was only day one.

"What else? Can I go out at least?" Her head ached, not prepared for hearing any other load of rubbish.

"Well," Leslie fell in deep thought. "You're not allowed to leave too far."

What was that supposed to mean? Rose was bewildered. These were the Roaring Twenties, right? The decade of women's rights, yet Alder Benson tried to lock her daughter down.

"Why?" Rose crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. The urge to rebel imbuing her.

"Sir Benson doesn't want you to."

"And how do I meet up with those supposedly flirts, you're talking about?" Rose whined, hiding her face behind her hands.

"They're often sons of business partners."

Heat flooded to her head, her hands balling into fists. That's disgusting. She stared at Leslie, hoping, she'd admit to this being a joke. But her expression told her otherwise. This sullen and irksome Alder Benson couldn't keep her behind walls to meet up with man only he approved of.

Leslie noticed the rage in Rose's eyes, uncertain about what she should do. Esmé had always liked staying at home. She hadn't been one to wander around. But this woman, she was unpredictable, erratic even.

"Oh, my Lady, look," Leslie was relieved that she could change the matter, noticing that Esmé's younger brother had arrived. Rose spun around, recognizing the handsome teenager from the picture in the hallway. "This is Wyatt." Leslie added. He was the male and younger version of Rose. Only that he was a head taller than her. His blazer jacket was neatly buttoned. One hand deep in his pocket, the other hand wiping away that blood on his lips.

Wait? Blood? Rose jogged over to him, watching as he ignored her, continuously muttering something under his breath. His lightbrown curls were a mess, bouncing against his forehead, his dark eyes narrowed as he glanced at the blood on his fingers.

"Wyatt!" Rose called, seeing as he flinched, staring up with wide eyes.

Rose held him by his shoulders, examining his face. His lip was burst open, blood flooding out, his lower lip began to bloat already. His face was filthy as if someone had thrown dirt at him, his left eye forming a bruise. Someone had mangled him bad. She reached out to grasp his chin to take a better look, but Wyatt slapped her hand away, stepping back. "What the hell, Esmé?" He was incensed, glaring at his older sister, startling her.

"I'm trying to see." She moved forward again, gently caressing his chin as his eyes darted away, his cheeks flushed. "Who did this?" Her voice a whisper, barely audible. Rose never had a sibling. Growing up a single child had been boring as it could be. Now having a younger brother was at least one perk of being stuck in Esmé's body. Siblings were fun, right? That was what she had thought until Wyatt groaned, the tone of annoyance clear in his voice.

"What is your problem?" Rose huffed.

"What is yours?" Wyatt spat. "Leave me alone." He was about to walk past the girls when Rose grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her again. She felt sincerely concerned, not understanding why he didn't want her to help. Clearly, it seemed that he used to have a problematic relationship to Esmé, but Rose could change that. 

"Who did this to you?" She moved her face closer to his, to get a better view of his bruised undereye, noticing that he was blushing again. What a git.

"What? Have you never been in close proximity to a girl?" Leslie chuckled, watching the scene unfold in front of her.

"Been closer than you have to a man probably." Rose's jaw dropped. 

"You blatant fool!"

Leslie stared at her, surprised. There was never a time such words had escaped the delicate lips of her Lady. Wyatt laughed disbelievingly but it quickly stifled as he winced in pain again, reaching for the wound on his lower lip. 

"Why do you even care so suddenly?" He argued, rolling his eyes.

"Well, boy, your lip is burst open. I see like three layers under its skin." He pulled a disgusted face, listening to her words. "Are you always one to get yourself in trouble like this?" Rose reached up to pat his head, ruffling his curls. Wyatt was taken aback.

"Whatever." Rose sighed as Wyatt seemed as if he didn't bother answering her. "Do you want me to find the ones that did this to you? Where are you coming from anyway?"

"The marketplace," He shrugged, his expression showing how annoyed he was, getting interrogated.

"Why can he walk around however he likes, even though I am the older one?" Rose lifted her brows, pointing at herself as she turned to look at Leslie.

"Obviously, because I am the taller one." Wyatt remarked nonchalantly. Rose hit the back of his head lightly, making him take a step back.

"Because I sneaked out." Wyatt added, murmuring as he scratched the back of his neck. He avoided the girls' gaze. "It's not like you don't know that I always do."

Rose grabbed his right shoulder, her fingers gripping him tightly as she smirked, glancing into his eyes intensely. "You sneaked out?" She whispered, yet an acknowledging tone lingering in her voice. "I guess, we'll get along well then."

Wyatt was shocked. He stared at his supposedly sister, not following what had happened. "We never get along." He sighed.

"Of course, we do." She chirped, relieved that she had found another person, she could make her accomplice. Reaching out to hold his other shoulder, she shook her lovely brother with a bright grin. "You're my favourite here."

Wyatt got out of her hold, with suspicion in his gaze as he examined the girl in front of him. He glanced between Leslie and Rose, trying to understand what had caused this change in his sister's behaviour.

"Don't ask." Leslie shrugged, her lips pouty.

There was no way to explain anyway, Rose thought. It was best to make everyone accept the new Esmé, what else could she do?

"Did you hurt your head? You never worry about any of the things I do." Wyatt examined her from head to toe, trying to spot a sign that told him, she was fooling him. "Or did you attach those boys to me? And now, you're feeling guilty, right?"

"No, I didn't," Rose said cluelessly, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. "Let's get you a band-aid." She grabbed his hand, wanting to pull him into the house but he shook her hold off again. But more gently this time as he locked his gaze with hers.

"No, it's fine." Wyatt sighed. "But whatever happened that made you like this," He paused, smiling mildly, "I'm glad it happened." With that, he strode off.

~~~

Rose traced her fingers over the covers of numerous, not ending books. Her eyes travelling over their titles, authors and colours. Her neck hurt from looking up and trying to see where the shelf ended. Leslie had finally showed her the library. It was shelf after shelf, but again the whole house was room after room, making it difficult for her to estimate its size.

It was amazing. Rose still had problems comprehending. The scent of the candles, Leslie had lit up, filled the room's air with a warm atmosphere as she followed Rose's every step.

Then Rose spotted the door that let out on the balcony. It faced the garden they had been in in the morning. She pushed the double doors open, the silence she was surrounded with replaced with the blowing wind. A few car engines audible in the far.

They stepped out. Rose closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind. Although it had been a quiet day, her head felt heavy, her mind all over the place. She took a deep breath in, leaning against the railing, watching the forest that seemed even more enigmatic and mysterious in the night.

She was here now. Still in London. A city she knew better than the back of her hand. A city, she called home. But she still felt so far away from everything she had known. In a world, so strange. Definitely, not home. Leslie stood behind her and Rose didn't want her to notice the tears that prickled in the corners of her eyes. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold in the sobs that caused her chest to ache, the more she fought it.

She missed her mother. She missed Emma. Her home. Sighing, her grip around the railing tightened. The few drops rolling down her cheeks, seemed to burn her skin, digging their way to her chin. Then Leslie's soft voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"My Lady," Her tone was calm, careful even. "What are you planning to do now?"

"Find a way to leave tomorrow." Rose could hear how Leslie's breath stuck in her throat.

"But-" Rose whirled around, leaning her back against the railing to face Leslie and see her reaction to what she wanted to say. "Well," She began, locking her eyes with the only person she could trust in. She had to. "Would you believe me if I told you that-" She stopped herself. She'd sound ridiculous. Huffing, she threw her head back. Her heart ached, he wind blowing her hair into her face.

"The stars are playing a strange game with me." She bit the inside of her cheek nervously. "And I don't know what to do. It's just - bizarre."

"Whatever it is, I believe you," Leslie said, trying to ensure her. Rose took a  glimpse at her and she knew that Leslie was being sincere.

"A lot has changed." Were the only words Rose managed to bring out. What else was there to say? Hey, I came from hundred years afar. To save this body. To save you. To save this family.

"The odds aren't apparent. I changed and there's still more to come."

There was someone out there who was willing to burn this house down, if Rose didn't take action. She stared at Leslie with concern. Maybe she'd lose her. And Wyatt even. She didn't know these people but the thought of losing everyone without being able to prevent whatever was seemingly bound to happen, drove her insane. 

"Is something bad going to happen?" Leslie's question hung in the air, tense and devouring. "What is it?" She mumbled, looking down. "Is it that bad?" Rose nodded slowly.

"But I'm not going to let it happen. You just need to trust me."

Leslie looked back up, pressing her lips together. "I do. What do you need me to do?"

It was obvious. She had to start somewhere. "I need to get out of here. The sooner, the better."

"That won't be easy, my Lady." Rose knew that. But she had to. Staying here and watching everything unfold wasn't an option. She didn't even know what she had to stop or whom. A deep groan escaped her, shaking her head, she began feeling frustrated again. That was the exact issue: Who was she trying to stop? 

"You said, my father leaves in the morning?" Rose said but it was rather a question than a statement.

"Yes, but-"

"Then, we're leaving tomorrow night. We'll ask Wyatt to help us get to the marketplace. I bet, he knows his ways."

"My lady-"

"You can stay here if you like, but I'll go," Rose said, not giving her any opportunity to cut her off as she looked at her challengingly, a smile spreading on her lips when Leslie sighed.

"I don't have a choice, I guess."

Rose grinned triumphantly, whirling around, facing the forest again with her arms wide open. Having Leslie approve wouldn't help her leave the house yet, but it was a beginning and Rose would find a way. She usually did. Though it was thrilling, she felt anxious at the same time.

She was someone else now. She had to accept it. There was no turning back. And there was no point in denying the circumstances. 

"I guess, I have no choice either," Rose mumbled, looking up.

"I'm Esmé." And she'd go by this. If this saved herself and the people around her, she was willing to do it. To do anything.

Staring into the depths of the starry night, she made her choice. She was ready to help these innocent people and save the ones she needed to. The ones, the stars had sent her here for.

It might not only be about saving people from a murderer. From a monster that was willing to burn down their homes and kill their loved ones.

Maybe, it was about saving someone from turning into that monster.