Here is a quick summary just copying and pasting her words :
Rosema indebted her life to the Richman family that saved her,lived in guilt & desperation for death until the Richman's eldest son Syd return and brought her fear.Is her wish finally granted by a man who resemble the dead man she love?
Second Look
Chapter One
Family Reunion
The news of the Richman sons returning to Paris excited the sedulous maids and servitors of the manor, Soave Maine. Though the absences of the old master and his wife extended to more than six months, it was the names of theirs sons that famed the hearth of the sumptuous Richman. Childhood tales of the two were recalled by the blathering maids. Some broke into tears while some jittered into laughter.
When the jolly, plump Mrs. Abbot announced the arrival of the Richman, everyone disappeared into the lower level of the manor. Only she remained, catching her breath when she sighted a slender figure beside the delicate magenta curtains of the hallway’s window. She gasped for more air and approached the unaware lass. “The masters’ arrival had driven everyone mad! How can you remained still with such a calm heart? If they are to learn of your dealings, they will be very disappointed in their favorite girl.”
The young lady in kahlua turned to face Mrs. Abbot with an armful of draperies. “I am more provoke to hear your tales you promised to share, Mrs. Abbot.” She smiled sweetly to calm the old lady’s heart.
“Oh, Rosema,” Mrs. Abbot pulled her by the arm. “I will tell you a good story after you greet the masters well.” She removed the draperies from the young lass and placed it with the nearby laundries. The old lady returned a bitter smile and brushed away Rosema’s fallen strands of brunette hair. “So young and innocent.” She sighed and led the way down the stairs. “I wish our young master Syd had grown into a man of your heart.”
“….I learned a little from Darold’s stories about young master Syd,” Rosema began. “But, is he really…fearsome?”
Mrs. Abbot gave a boorish chuckle . “It depends on rather you understand that hot-blooded child or not….But, I had never thought of him as fearsome….He’s just…Difficult….Though I must warn you beforehand.” Mrs. Abbot stopped Rosema abruptly. “Behave yourself and try not to anger that boy. He may send the devil after you if there’s no gentleman in him.” With the familiar bitter smile, the plump woman departed from the tranquil lass. She remained there for a few seconds, lost in her thoughts until everyone signaled the entrance of the masters. She hurriedly joined the maids as the butler, Mr. Akins, unclasped the orchid French door.
It was old master Mr. Richman and his wife who appeared first, followed by their youngest son, Darold, whose arm entwined an unbeknown woman. As the servitors bowed and maids curtsied, they couldn’t help, but be captivated by the foreign lady who claimed Darold’s left arm.
Rosema admired her glamour as the young Darold guided his sweetheart down the small, circular steps. The unforeseen lady astonished everyone in the manor, but it was the lad who hesitantly entered last that caught Rosema’s attentions. Her eyes raised in stunt as his tall figure bonded the stone steps and bowed to Mr. Akins. She gawked at his thin face, speechless. “L-Larick?!” she quavered under her breath.
“…Strange girl…..why are you here alone,” the vigorous boy stared at her from the flower bed as a little girl tried to hide her tears. “There’s crawlers and garden snakes around. You shan’t be here unattended. Your parents will be awfully worry…..Or is the master of this place your father?” she hesitated to answer, but managed to say no and apologized for causing an uproar.
“Uproar? Says who?” he returned, standing up to reveal his dirt-covered garments and bare feet. Too ashamed of being discovered of crying, the little girl apologized once more only to find golden petals barring her view of the dirty little boy. “For you, strange girl…… In return, please don’t weep so often….Big boys like me,” he pointed his thumb to his jutted chest. “don’t enjoy seeing girls cry…” he quickly pressed the flower stems into her palm and grinned. “…I must go now before Father scold me again…. Please keep my visit here a secret.”
“Rosema!” the poor lass woke up from her daydream when the joyous Darold gathered her into a big, brotherly hug. “I am so glad to see you, yet what had troubled you so? You’re so pale!” she chuckled and curtsied.
“Welcome home, Darold, Mr. and Mrs. Richman.” her eyes met the foreign girl as she returned a friendly smile. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Angeline Walter.”
“And Miss Rosema,” they exchanged a curtsy. “Darold spoke of you so often that I imagined how it feels to see you in flesh. Now, I really can‘t explain how I feel!” Surprised at how childish the lass acted, Rosema smiled, not really sure how to converse such subject.
“How many times had I told you not to clean, Rosema?” Mrs. Richman interrupted. “Those filthy clothes does not suit you and in the presence of Miss Angeline?” Rosema stuttered to apologize. “Mrs. Abbot, take this young lady upstairs to change.”
“But Mother!” Darold cried. “You said Rosema can do anything she-”
“Anything, but that. As a proper mistress of Soave Maine, I disapprove. Rosema,” Mrs. Richman turned toward Rosema. “If you disobey me again, I will forbid you from going to the garden again.” Rosema looked down at her shoes and nodded in understanding. Mrs. Richman sighed and excused herself.
“Cheer up! Mrs. Richman‘s only worried about your health, that‘s all,” Angeline averred. “Isn’t it, Darold?” He agreed immediately, but was suddenly struck as he searched the room.
“Where is Syd?! Before anything else, I really want Rosema to meet Syd. Syd!”
Rosema closed her eyes and became lost again in her thoughts. "I must’ve had another imagination…. Perhaps I will never stop dreaming until the day--” She opened her eyes only to find herself losing her breath completely. Her heart pounded louder and heavier and her mind completely dimmed by the long thin face staring at her. It was only when his cerulean gray eyes gave her the strangest look that she suddenly felt her body trembled uncontrollably. At that long moment of discovering the man before her possessed no brown eyes that had always robbed her, she finally looked down and curtsied.
“W-w-w-welcome---” she lost her words, not really sure what she’s actually saying.
“Rosema, this is Syd Richman, my older brother,” Darold grinned. “The eldest Richman son that haven’t return for 15 years……And finally, both of you get to meet. Rosema, what do you think? Handsome isn’t he? Well, maybe not as handsome as me, but handsome right?”
Too afraid to look up, Rosema remained silent. Her body continued shaking. “What’s wrong? Are you cold?” Angeline asked, rubbing her shoulders. Surprised by her sudden touch, she looked up to apologize, but was again seized by the cold stare. She quickly broke away and found Mrs. Abbot holding her back.
“I’m sorry to intrude young ones, but I must take Rosema upstairs now. Mrs. Richman demand I do so before you further your reunion. C’mon Rosema.”
Rosema excused herself and followed Mrs. Abbot upstairs. She hurriedly walked toward her bedchamber while Mrs. Abbot left to fetch something she forgot downstairs. As she sat at the foot of her bed, the unexplainable feeling remained. She clutched her quivering body tightly, trying to calm herself down. Her mind ran wild, unable to think until a sudden sound shattered the happy resonance of the manor. Her fear suddenly disappeared as she realized that something horrible had happened downstairs. Rosema scurried out to find a motionless Darold by the bottom of the stairs and a wooden arm lying down on the marble floor.
Her heart wrenched upon seeing Darold’s right arm sleeve empty. She went numb when Darold screamed and refused the approaching Angeline. “Please, d-don’t touch me!” Darold exclaimed and ran out of the door.
Everyone remained speechless. When she suddenly recollected herself, Rosema ran down the stairs only to be stopped by Mr. Richman.
“Let him be….It will only worsen if you speak to him now.” Rosema gulped and watched the empty doorway. Needles began to stab through her heart when she saw Angeline retrieving the wooden arm and silently crying. The surrounding maids muttered caressing words and led Angeline to her chamber. She heard Mr. Richman repeat again, “Let him be,” and left without saying more to her.
When dinnertime arrives and Rosema escorted herself to the dining room, she found Angeline fixed at the top of the stairs, staring at the very spot that Darold had stood. Her face went pale upon seeing Rosema and couldn’t face her anymore. Afraid to hurt Angeline, Rosema greeted her casually and asked her to come along with her.
“….Rosema,” she finally spoke. “….the woman that Darold adored…and the woman he looked up to as if she’s his very own sister…..” Angeline turned to look at Rosema with tears already piling at the corner of her eyes. “Tell me….What exactly did you do on that day?!
Upon hearing this, Rosema clutched her dress as guilt crawled back into her body. Through the hallway's window, the setting sun beamed its light against Rosema’s and Angeline‘s face. “…..I-It was all my fault….” Rosema returned after a moment of Angeline weeping. “….If it wasn’t for me…..Nothing like this would have ever happen…”
“….I just don’t understand!” Angeline shouted. “It shouldn’t have been him! It shouldn‘t have been him!” Angeline broke down and cried as Rosema remained still, knowing already that she was in no place to comfort a person that she hurt. She already knew that nothing she do can ever change what she had done.
When everyone were seated at the dinner table, there was but no mention of what happened earlier. Darold returned to himself, however, ignoring Angeline. She too, did not spoke a word until Mrs. Richman bluntly asked her if she’d already decided on her wedding dress.
“Wedding dress?” Angeline repeated . “Mrs. Richman…..I don’t think I’m ready to discuss this subject-.”
“That’s right,” Darold cut her off coldly. “Mother, if you haven’t realize it yet, Miss Angeline Mckean here will never marry a person like me. A person who’s missing an arm.”
“Darold!” her mother shrieked. “Will you talk with a sharper tongue?
“Mrs. Richman, you’re not acting like the lady of this manor when screaming at your son like that,” Mr. Richman said calmly.
“And how can you act so heartless toward your son?” she returned. “I speak because I cared for him!”
Hurt by Darold’s words, Angeline walked hurriedly out of the dining room. Moments of listening to his parents quarreling, Darold muttered angrily to himself and left the room as well. Both continued arguing and stormed out, not even finished with dinner. Their voices remained in the room, however, as Rosema listened to them, sitting and not realizing that all of them had left until a single drop of a spoon seized her unawareness. Her eyes ran wild and her blood stopped running upon seeing the tall lad standing across the table. He leaned forward, pressing his palms against the table and stared straight into her eyes
“What should I call you?” he questioned with a husky voice, grabbing her knife and twirling it into the potato salad in her plate. Rosema pushed her chair aback and stood up, realizing that she was alone with the man she had already forgotten about after the incident. He stopped twirling her knife and sneered at the trembling lass.
“…R-R-Rosema….” she managed to said. “I-I-I-I’m s-so-rry.” she headed toward the door, but was stopped by his outstretched arm pressing against the wall. She felt him breathe into the nape of her neck and hearing him uttering lowly.
“I meant….What should I call someone who made herself a queen? A murderer.” her eyes widened and pulled herself away from his distant, but he grabbed her wrist and dug his nails into her skin. Rosema let out a cry.
“Pl-please M-Mr. S-S-Syd!” she begged, but his nails dug even deeper and his eyes became crueler
“You calling me by my name? A fraud and a despicable fiend like you does not deserve to call my name!” Too scared of his violence, Rosema ripped herself from his grasp and as fast as she could, ran out to her bedchamber.
Slamming and latching the doorknob, Rosema slumped against her door, heaving heavily. She squeezed her eyes, trying very hard yet her tears seeped and streamed slowly from her terrified eyes. She broke into a heavy sob and hugged her trembling knees. Her wrist continued bleeding, staining her dress as she crouched against her door. As the night grew, her crying silenced into sleep.
“What’s wrong?” Rosema heard a familiar voice asked in the darkness. She rose from the cold floor and searched the sheets of blackness. “Why are you crying? I’ve already told you…Not to cry anymore…”
She squinted her eyes and finally a man’s body became visible. Her heart leap as she scrambled toward him.
“L-Larick!” she shouted and ran toward the man standing in the dark. “Is it really you?!”
“….I told you…” he repeated, drifting even farther from the running Rosema. “…If you cry…..You’ll make me sad…”
“Larick!” she shouted after the disappearing body.
Rosema’s eyes shot open to the cold morning and stamping outside her door. She gazed at the floor she slept upon and suddenly, pounding against her door became louder.
“Rosema? Are you awake?” Mrs. Abbot shouted. “Please wake up. Miss Angeline is missing. We can’t find her anywhere!”
