chapter 3
Violet?” Elizabeth’s bottom still tilted up like a sunflower seeking sunlight. “Vi, was that you?”
I swallowed, trying not to release the giggle welling up in my throat.
“Whatever are you two doing?” Frederic drawled.
Elizabeth jumped as if she’d suffered an electric jolt. There was a flurry of panicked movement and my hair became caught in one of the grommets of her corset. Suddenly, my face was pressed up against her backside. She squealed. Then she tugged. My hair pulled at my scalp. She tugged harder. I squeaked, and we both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of lace and ribbons.
“Bollocks!” Elizabeth hollered.
“Such language for a debutante,” Frederic murmured.
Elizabeth’s face was red when I finally freed myself and we pushed ourselves up from where we were sprawled across the rug. “I’m not a debutante yet,” she muttered at him.
“I can see why.”
She bit her lip. She had been nursing a tendre for Frederic for over two years, picturing him kissing her hand and declaring his love, while in reality he still thought of her as a child. His father had gone to school with Lord Jasper. Frederic was down from the same school for the week and thought himself quite above us. He was only back for his quarterly allowance. I hated that Elizabeth might suffer a single moment over him.
“If you must know, we were fixing a tear in her gown.” I’d learned that a brisk tone and no trace whatsoever of a Cockney accent made most people pay attention. I’d practiced elocution and diction for hours every day, along with how to pick a pocket and wash tea so it could be boiled a second time. “Furthermore, a gentleman doesn’t laugh at a lady. And you might help her up, actually.”
He bowed toward us. “I beg your pardon.” He offered his hand to Elizabeth to help her up. Her eyelashes fluttered. Then he ruined it by speaking. “Up you go, Beth old girl,” he said amiably as he pulled her up. “Oof.”
She blushed, looking down at her plump self. She nearly missed his wink before he turned and walked away, chuckling to himself. I scrambled to my feet, not waiting for assistance. I counted under my breath, waiting for the expected reaction: one … two … three—
“Oh, Violet.” She sighed dreamily and right on cue.
“Oh, Lizzie,” I mimicked, smiling to let her know I was only teasing.
“Isn’t he utterly divine? Beautiful?”
“Somehow, I think he’d disagree with that last one.” And not enough with the first.
“All right,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Handsome then. Do you think he noticed me?”
“We were sprawled in a heap of twitching limbs and lace at his feet. He would have had to have been unconscious not to notice us.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I meant, do you think he noticed I’m nearly on the Marriage Mart now?”
I didn’t know how to reply. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I wasn’t sure Frederic noticed anything other than cards and port. He was twenty years old, after all, and quite wealthy. He was acting exactly as he was expected to.
Her cheeks were red. “We should return before Mother wonders where we’ve gone off to. Heaven forbid we might be somewhere enjoying ourselves!”
I pretended not to see her pick up the handkerchief that had fallen out of Frederic’s coat and hide it in one of the pockets in her skirt.
A knock woke me in the middle of the night.
I stumbled across the room, nearly tripping on the hem of my nightdress. When I opened my door, Colin stood on the other side. He cocked one eyebrow impatiently.
“Aren’t you ready?”
I mumbled something unintelligible through a wide yawn and turned away to find my dressing gown. I knew he was smirking at me without looking. He always smirked at me, ever since we’d moved to a better address and I’d been given proper lady’s dresses to wear.
I found my slippers and he handed me a covered basket of supplies. We made our way down the hallway as quietly as possible. The standing clock ticked loudly, like a giant insect in the summer woods. It was so late that even the moonlight coming in through the windows was tired and pale. Everyone else was asleep, especially my mother, who claimed she needed to look her best for tomorrow’s entertainments. It didn’t matter as much if I was haggard with fatigue, and it mattered not at all for Colin.
“Stay on the edge,” Colin advised as we descended the staircase. “The stairs won’t creak that way.”
I didn’t ask him how he came to know that. I just wanted to get this over and done with and get back to my warm bed. If we were caught, there’d be no redeeming the situation. This part made me so nervous I felt a little ill. Not to mention that Rosefield was such a large manor house, we might wander about the rest of the night and never find the right parlor.
“Did you know your prince finally arrived?”
“He’s not my prince,” I snapped. I didn’t know why, but Colin always managed to get a rise out of me. At least he didn’t slip toads in my bed the way he had when we were younger. He’d stopped the morning he woke up with a perfectly placed beetle on his face. If only it had been so easy to stop him from making sarcastic comments about Xavier Trethewey. Colin disliked him for no reason other than he liked to be contrary.
There was nothing offensive about Xavier, after all. He was kind and well mannered and handsome. And his father was in trade, which mattered to the peerage but mattered not a whit to Mother because he was also wealthy. We were the last people on earth to look down on someone because of their situation. Xavier paid me several compliments and was seeking out my company with enough frequency that Mother had begun to look smug when his name was mentioned.
Which was never a good sign.
I was frowning so hard I nearly walked into a potted fern.
“Pay attention, princess.”
I would have pinched Colin but he was noticeably out of reach. His blue eyes gleamed knowingly. He opened his mouth to make another quip and then shut it again with a snap. I frowned at him. He grabbed my elbow and hauled me unceremoniously into a miniature jungle of ficus trees and ferns near the stairs. His body wedged against mine. He’d been drinking mint tea; I could smell it on his breath.
“What are you—” His hand clamped over my mouth. I glared at him and contemplated biting his thumb.
“Shhh,” he whispered, very quietly, so close I felt his lips brush my earlobe. I suppressed a ticklish sort of shiver.
Then I heard the footsteps. I froze. Colin nodded grimly. We couldn’t be caught. It would ruin either Mother’s reputation or mine. And we both knew she’d sacrifice mine without a second thought if it meant she could keep accepting invitations to country manor houses. I held my breath. Colin was a solid presence next to me, the warmth of his skin radiating through his thin shirt and my dressing gown. It was suddenly very warm in our little corner, as if we truly were in an exotic jungle full of orchids and tigers. I had to release my breath and for some reason it trembled.
A man I didn’t recognize came down the corridor. He was very tall and thin, with shadows under his eyes. He looked wretched, muttering to himself. A snifter of brandy dangled from his left hand, spilling drops on the carpet, as he appeared to have forgotten he held it.
“Please,” he begged out loud, even though he was utterly alone. He couldn’t know we were hiding nearby. I crept an inch closer to Colin just in case. He shifted so his arm curled around me. His hand on my lower back was a distractingly pleasant feeling. “Please come back.”
I looked away, uncomfortable. I’d never gotten used to seeing such naked grief. I thought it ought to remain private, despite what we did for a living. It was easy, after a while, to sort out the weepers who wanted dramatics and attention and the ones who were broken inside.
This young man, scarcely older than Colin, was definitely broken inside.
He passed us without a glance and stumbled up the stairs.
We waited a moment before hurrying to the drawing room and ducking inside.
“Do you know who he was?” I whispered, taking a paper packet from the basket. There weren’t many preparations needed for tomorrow, but it was important for us to have a chance to investigate the room for the main event at the end of the week.
“No,” Colin said. “Must be a guest. A servant wouldn’t help himself to the brandy.”
“I wonder what’s happened to him.”
Colin just shrugged. “We should hurry in case he wanders back down.”
He was right. I emptied out the hairpins and then folded up the packet and slid it neatly under one of the legs of the large round table set in the back corner. With the lace tablecloth fluttering over the mahogany surface, the legs were mostly hidden from view. No one was likely to notice it, and we’d remove it straightaway after we were done.
“There’s a rug here,” I said, crawling back out and standing up. “That’ll make it easier as well.”
“Good.” He circled the parlor, looking behind plants and cupboards and paintings. He lifted the cushion off a chair. “This one,” he said, “might do if we need to hide anything. But not for tomorrow.”
I turned on one heel. “There isn’t anywhere to hide the bellows.”
He frowned, turning as well. “That’ll be a problem.”
I wrinkled my nose. “She’ll think of something.”
“She always does,” he agreed.
We poked around some more, memorizing the layout and the nooks and secret crannies created by the furniture. The fashion for long tablecloths and hangings on every chair and table helped our cause. I thought of Lord Jasper with his kind face, sitting next to my mother as she shivered and made dramatic pronouncements.
Colin glanced at me. “All right then?”
“I suppose. There’s not much else we can do tonight in any case.”
“Chin up, Violet,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe your prince will take you away from all of this.”
“Miss Willoughby.” Marjorie opened the door. Her blond hair was caught in a neat bun under a white cap and she was smiling conspiratorially. “Mr. Trethewey is waiting for you in the parlor.”
It was early for a visit, especially from someone like Xavier. Mostly, his kind slept past noon because they were awake until dawn, dancing in flower-decorated ballrooms. I slept past noon because I was up until all hours reading novels by candlelight. It was a habit no one could break me of, not even my mother.
I let Marjorie help me into my corset, leaving it looser than Mother liked. She tied hers so tight I wondered how she could eat, let alone breathe. “I suppose Mother’s already told him I’ll be down presently?” I tucked a wayward piece of lace back under my blouse. It needed mending.
“Yes, miss. And she’s ordered tea and a pot of chocolate. She would like you to hurry.” Marjorie helped me with my buttons. It wasn’t my most fashionable dress, but anyone who called for me at nine o’clock in the bloody morning would have to take what he was given.
“Thank you, Marjie.” I smiled at her. “I can manage the rest.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried off to the rest of her chores.
Without time to brush my hair, I merely twisted it into a rope and secured it at my nape with a handful of pins. I was stifling another yawn and rushing down the stairs when I nearly bumped into a maidservant carrying a pile of clean linens.
“Sorry!” I mumbled around a pin I’d yet to put in my hair.
She ignored me. I stepped out of her way, watching her continue up the landing. Her gaze hadn’t even flickered my way.
That’s when I noticed I could see right through the hem of her dress, the glow of white from her blouse and pale skin.
I shivered under a sudden icy draft.
I really shouldn’t be out of bed so early.
It clearly wasn’t good for me.
I was still gaping when Colin frowned up at me through the railing from the checkered marble floor of the front hall. “What you doing, then?”
“What?” I blinked, forcing my mouth closed.
“Doesn’t your prince know by now that you’re not a morning person?”
“Oh, do be quiet.”
“Are you wearing that?”
I just stared at him. “Don’t you start,” I muttered, feeling back to my normal self. Nothing like Colin’s smirks to set things back to rights. “This dress isn’t that old.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Shoes.”
I looked down at my bare toes. I hadn’t even remembered my stockings. If I’d been a duchess’s daughter, it would have been shocking. As it was only me, and it was early in the morning, it was barely surprising. Not that I thought for one moment that Xavier would have seen it that way. I made a sound of frustration and whirled around, dashing back up the stairs to my bedroom. Colin’s laughter followed me the entire way.
By the time I’d reached the door to the parlor, with my shoes properly in place, I was awake enough to care that my hair was escaping its pins again. I stuffed it back in, scraping my scalp until every thick curl was ruthlessly secured.
Xavier stood up when I entered. “Miss Willoughby, pray forgive the early intrusion.”
“Not at all,” my mother said before I could reply. She stood up as well, a steely glint in her eye. I peered into her cup, wondering if it was filled with lukewarm tea or sherry. “Do excuse me,” she added.
She swept out of the room, leaving the door open. Technically, we ought to have had a chaperone, even for a morning visit over tea, but Mother was hoping Xavier would offer for me. She wasn’t above unsubtly maneuvering us all to fall in line with her wishes. Besides, I supposed it wasn’t entirely risqué with the door open and servants rushing back and forth. I’d seen elevated social mamas do far worse in the name of securing a husband for their daughters. An elderly, gray-curled grandmother once tripped an eligible bachelor on his way to the gaming table so he would fall at her granddaughter’s satin-slippered feet. Instead he’d landed on a footman and broken his arm.
“Miss Willoughby?”
I turned my attention back to Xavier with a start. His brown eyes were warm and focused entirely on my face. “I’m sorry … yes?”
“Are you quite well?”
“Certainly.” I fought back a blush. Had I been staring blankly at the hideous cabbage rose wallpaper?
“I shouldn’t like to be forward, but I wanted a chance to see you.”
“That’s very kind of you.” I didn’t know what else to say. “More tea, Mr. Trethewey?” I filled his cup and passed him the sugar bowl. He smiled, stirred, and tapped the edge of his spoon on the rim of his cup precisely three times.
“I hope you’ll save me a dance at the ball this week?”
“Of course.”
“And I should like you to meet my parents,” he said. “They’ll be arriving later today.”
I swallowed nervously. “Thank you. I should be happy to meet them.” In fact, I wanted nothing less. They’d know right away that I wasn’t good enough for him.
He stood and came over to my chair, reaching for my hand. I’d forgotten my gloves again. The leather of his glove was soft and warm on my bare skin. He was always dressed impeccably and properly, no matter the hour. I stood up and we were very close.
“Mr. Trethewey?”
“Violet,” he exclaimed, even though we hadn’t yet given each other leave to use our first names. He lifted my hand to his mouth. No man had ever been this close to me before, and certainly none had ever taken my ungloved hand in his. Except for Colin, but that had been to push my fingers into the jam pot.
Xavier kissed those same fingers. It sent tingles up my arm.
“Violet, you must know …” He shook his head. “Forgive me. Forgive me,” he said again, seemingly startled by his own behavior. It happened so fast, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t even have time to reply before he bowed and rushed out of the parlor.
“Violet,” my mother snapped. “Do stop squirming.”
I wondered what else, exactly, I was expected to do with my petticoats up over my head and my mother and Marjorie crouched at my feet like goblins. Marjorie’s mouth was full of pins. Mother tightened the rope around my thigh.
“Ouch,” I complained.
“It needs to be secure,” she insisted.
I grabbed onto the back of the settee so I wouldn’t topple. “But I also need to be able to feel my legs so I can walk,” I muttered. “It’ll be rather obvious if I limp into the parlor.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “A little cooperation, if you please.”
“Is this really necessary?” I shifted, trying to ease the chafing of the fireplace bellows now strapped to my leg. It was heavy and cumbersome. At home Marjorie stood outside in the hallway with the bellows, pumping air into a small hole in the wall, positioned just so. We didn’t have that luxury at the moment.
“Yes,” she said, checking the knots. She was beautiful in a black silk gown with white silk orchids along the frilled ruchings. Crystal beads glittered in her hair. I’d stolen those beads from a box outside a shop being fumigated for rats.
I knew from experience that there was a certain kind of beauty that made people shut their eyes to everything else. Mother had it in spades, and she assured me that I had it too; I only needed to learn to use it. I didn’t think dragging my numb leg behind me would be a particularly good start.
“I should think you would be a little more enthusiastic, Violet. I am trying to secure you a good future. Or would you rather sew hats for fine ladies until your fingers bleed? Personally, I don’t think you’d care for it.”
She liked to lecture me that I was too soft, made that way by her hard work. It was virtually unheard of for a pregnant maid to return to London and make a better life for herself, but as it turned out, Mother had quite the talent for telling mourners exactly what they wanted to hear. And being in a state of perpetual half mourning lent her an air of gentility. Most Spiritualists preferred white for funerals; after all, they held it as one of their most important tenets that death, being just another journey, was nothing to be feared.
White, however, did nothing for Mother’s complexion.
She was at her best with her pale skin delicately bordered with black silk. The contrived air of mourning was meant to curtail too many questions since my father wasn’t actually dead. Though I suppose he might well be; I had no way of knowing since I wasn’t exactly sure who he was in the first place. Nevertheless, she wore black silks and velvets and delicate cameos. And the only reason she hadn’t forced me into a fictional half mourning too was because lavender made me look like week-old mutton.
And despite what one might say about her, she was clever and could read people’s mannerisms the way I read novels. There was nothing so useful, as she was fond of saying, as knowing exactly what a man or a rich old lady with more gold than family needed to hear.
Or nothing so useful, apparently, as being able to gracefully glide about the parlor with a pair of bellows tied to your leg. I didn’t think they taught this particular skill at the finishing schools.
These kinds of tricks, along with Miss Hartington’s dying kindness, were the only reason we were able to live nearer to Mayfair than the East End, where we belonged. If we walked from our new house we could see the peerage promenade through Hyde Park on chestnut bays. It was also how we became able to afford gilded mirrors and two new gowns in the most current fashion, with flounces and a matching bonnet trimmed with red roses. I loved those new dresses. I’d never had one before now that wasn’t several years outdated and already worn at the seams.
But I still hated how we took advantage of people sunk so deep into their grief that any natural skepticism was lost. The curiosity seekers didn’t bother me as much. It was the experience they wanted, along with the cachet of having sat hand to hand with a born sensitive. They seemed to care little for evidence of any kind once they saw my mother, all beautiful dark curls and eyes like warm chocolate.
I sincerely hoped these sitters fell into that safe category.
It wasn’t long before Marjorie finished pinning the inside layer of my petticoats so that they wouldn’t catch and bunch around the bellows. Then she shook out my skirts. Mother stepped back, eyeing me carefully.
“Very good,” she approved finally. “Now take a turn about the room.”
The first step sent me sprawling across the carpet. I landed hard on my elbow and knocked the breath from my lungs for a moment.
Mother sighed irritably. “Violet, a little effort, if you please.”
“Are you all right, miss?” Marjorie asked, helping me to my feet.
“She’s fine.” Mother waved her hand dismissively. “Try again.”
By the third time across the sitting room I was walking more like a debutante and less like a wounded hippopotamus. I was feeling rather pleased with my efforts until Colin came in.
“What’s wrong with your leg?”
I sighed. Mother scowled. “Try harder, Violet.”
Colin met my eyes steadily before turning to my mother. “Lord Jasper is asking for you,” he said. “Why doesn’t Violet stay here a little longer and practice?” He was trying to give me some time to myself. He knew how flustered I got before a sitting, never mind one at Rosefield with my mother breathing fire down my neck.
“Very well.” Mother smoothed her already perfect hair back. She paused before sailing out of the room like a glossy ship.
“No mistakes now,” she warned us all.