Haunting Violet
Page 67
He stepped closer, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. “You’ll think of something.”
He was near enough that I could smell earth and flowers on his hands, and smoke.
“I’m hardly a detective,” I murmured, turning so that we faced each other fully.
“But you are clever,” he said. “And Rowena chose you for a reason.”
I didn’t need to reply as his mouth covered mine, his hands dropping to my waist. My corset seemed suddenly too tight. I kissed him back and we moved, almost as if we were dancing to some music only we could hear, until my back was pressed against the wall. I was glad of the support, my knees suddenly weak. And I was tingling everywhere he touched me, his hands, the press of his legs, his chest against mine.
When the front door opened we leaped apart as if we’d suddenly caught fire.
“Violet,” my mother called out cheerfully. I could hear her removing her hat and gloves. Colin and I locked gazes for a long moment.
“Violet,” she called again, sharper. “Where the devil is that girl?”
“I’m here,” I answered, finally pulling myself away and stepping into the hall. Colin followed me to collect Mother’s parcels from the carriage. She looked at us both critically but didn’t say anything. I hoped my hair wasn’t disheveled or my lips overly pink.
“The town is positively alight with talk of us,” she said finally. “Your demonstration was a rousing success. Everyone is curious to see Lord Thornwood’s daughter.” She sniffed. “You think they’d remember that I also gave them the best years of my life.” She unwrapped one of her parcels. “At least your photograph was worth the coin. You look lovely, and more importantly, you’re positively glowing with ectoplasm.”
That sounded uncomfortable.
“Mr. Hudson says it’s the best he’s ever taken. He’s hung a copy in his window.”
“There’s a photograph of me in his window?”
She nodded smugly. “Think of the exposure.”
I could see the rest of my life unfolding before me: sittings, séances, spirit-board readings, all under the sharp eye of my mother as she charged admission for the privilege. It wouldn’t matter to her if the work tired me or made my head ache. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t want to be the scandalous bastard daughter of an earl put through her paces like a show pony.
“Why are you looking so cross?” she snapped. “Come and see your picture.”
I swallowed, half afraid to look.
I was wearing my striped periwinkle dress, standing stiffly and unsmiling. The air around me was hazy, as if the room had been filled with smoke, which it hadn’t. A translucent miniature schnauzer was at my feet, tongue lolling happily. Mr. Rochester. I smiled to see him. He looked like he was made of moonbeams and dandelion fluff. In the mist behind me were faces, the most prominent of them a girl, her hair streaming water and lily petals.
“Rowena,” I murmured, touching the photo.
“Careful, you’ll smudge it.” Mother snatched it back. “I had a second copy made and had a courier take it to Lord Jasper.”
We got a reply the very next morning. I wondered if he’d recognized Rowena even hazy as she was.
Mother read it quickly, already preening. “I knew this would work. Excellent. You see, Lord Jasper has invited you back to Rosefield. He’s included a train ticket for you. You’d best impress him quickly,” she added darkly, almost venomously. “I shan’t support a grown daughter who is lazy.” She flounced off, calling to Marjorie for tea and jam tarts.
“What was that about?” Colin muttered.
I raised the letter, beautifully written on thick paper. “She wasn’t invited. Just me.”
“Good.”
I tapped the letter on the palm of my hand. “This is it, then.”
“Remember,” Mother said, straightening the lace at my collar as the hired hackney waited at the curbside. “This might be your only chance. Don’t squander it away with missish behavior. Do what you must.”
It was hardly an encouraging farewell. She hugged me and then turned away, slamming the door shut behind her before I’d even set a foot off the stoop. Colin stood in the shadows between our house and the neighboring one so that he wouldn’t be seen. He lifted his hand in a wave.
“Be careful,” he mouthed.
I glanced at the front door. “You too.”
Lord Jasper sent a Mrs. Hartley to accompany me on the train. She nodded at me once and spent the rest of the time with her knitting. She didn’t even step out onto the platform when we got there, only nodded one last time and waited to be taken back to London. Lord Jasper’s carriage waited for me, with a footman to open the door. Elizabeth was inside, frowning.
“Hello,” I said quietly as the horses began to walk.
She didn’t smile. “Hello.”
I chewed my lip. “Elizabeth, you must know how sorry I am.”
“You hurt my feelings.”
“I know. I hardly had a choice though, did I?”
She sighed, grudgingly. “I guess not. Uncle Jasper says this isn’t your fault.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“He says it’s just like my mother forcing me to go to all those dreadful society teas. Only with you it was much harder.”
My eyes stung. I had hardly expected compassion from that quarter. She grinned suddenly. “Anyway, I’m awful at staying angry.” She flung her arms around me. “And it’s been so dull without you.” I hugged her back, feeling as if there had been ice in my belly and it was now melting. She settled back against the velvet cushions. “Besides, you’ve noble blood now, so I can hardly snub you,” she teased.
He was near enough that I could smell earth and flowers on his hands, and smoke.
“I’m hardly a detective,” I murmured, turning so that we faced each other fully.
“But you are clever,” he said. “And Rowena chose you for a reason.”
I didn’t need to reply as his mouth covered mine, his hands dropping to my waist. My corset seemed suddenly too tight. I kissed him back and we moved, almost as if we were dancing to some music only we could hear, until my back was pressed against the wall. I was glad of the support, my knees suddenly weak. And I was tingling everywhere he touched me, his hands, the press of his legs, his chest against mine.
When the front door opened we leaped apart as if we’d suddenly caught fire.
“Violet,” my mother called out cheerfully. I could hear her removing her hat and gloves. Colin and I locked gazes for a long moment.
“Violet,” she called again, sharper. “Where the devil is that girl?”
“I’m here,” I answered, finally pulling myself away and stepping into the hall. Colin followed me to collect Mother’s parcels from the carriage. She looked at us both critically but didn’t say anything. I hoped my hair wasn’t disheveled or my lips overly pink.
“The town is positively alight with talk of us,” she said finally. “Your demonstration was a rousing success. Everyone is curious to see Lord Thornwood’s daughter.” She sniffed. “You think they’d remember that I also gave them the best years of my life.” She unwrapped one of her parcels. “At least your photograph was worth the coin. You look lovely, and more importantly, you’re positively glowing with ectoplasm.”
That sounded uncomfortable.
“Mr. Hudson says it’s the best he’s ever taken. He’s hung a copy in his window.”
“There’s a photograph of me in his window?”
She nodded smugly. “Think of the exposure.”
I could see the rest of my life unfolding before me: sittings, séances, spirit-board readings, all under the sharp eye of my mother as she charged admission for the privilege. It wouldn’t matter to her if the work tired me or made my head ache. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t want to be the scandalous bastard daughter of an earl put through her paces like a show pony.
“Why are you looking so cross?” she snapped. “Come and see your picture.”
I swallowed, half afraid to look.
I was wearing my striped periwinkle dress, standing stiffly and unsmiling. The air around me was hazy, as if the room had been filled with smoke, which it hadn’t. A translucent miniature schnauzer was at my feet, tongue lolling happily. Mr. Rochester. I smiled to see him. He looked like he was made of moonbeams and dandelion fluff. In the mist behind me were faces, the most prominent of them a girl, her hair streaming water and lily petals.
“Rowena,” I murmured, touching the photo.
“Careful, you’ll smudge it.” Mother snatched it back. “I had a second copy made and had a courier take it to Lord Jasper.”
We got a reply the very next morning. I wondered if he’d recognized Rowena even hazy as she was.
Mother read it quickly, already preening. “I knew this would work. Excellent. You see, Lord Jasper has invited you back to Rosefield. He’s included a train ticket for you. You’d best impress him quickly,” she added darkly, almost venomously. “I shan’t support a grown daughter who is lazy.” She flounced off, calling to Marjorie for tea and jam tarts.
“What was that about?” Colin muttered.
I raised the letter, beautifully written on thick paper. “She wasn’t invited. Just me.”
“Good.”
I tapped the letter on the palm of my hand. “This is it, then.”
“Remember,” Mother said, straightening the lace at my collar as the hired hackney waited at the curbside. “This might be your only chance. Don’t squander it away with missish behavior. Do what you must.”
It was hardly an encouraging farewell. She hugged me and then turned away, slamming the door shut behind her before I’d even set a foot off the stoop. Colin stood in the shadows between our house and the neighboring one so that he wouldn’t be seen. He lifted his hand in a wave.
“Be careful,” he mouthed.
I glanced at the front door. “You too.”
Lord Jasper sent a Mrs. Hartley to accompany me on the train. She nodded at me once and spent the rest of the time with her knitting. She didn’t even step out onto the platform when we got there, only nodded one last time and waited to be taken back to London. Lord Jasper’s carriage waited for me, with a footman to open the door. Elizabeth was inside, frowning.
“Hello,” I said quietly as the horses began to walk.
She didn’t smile. “Hello.”
I chewed my lip. “Elizabeth, you must know how sorry I am.”
“You hurt my feelings.”
“I know. I hardly had a choice though, did I?”
She sighed, grudgingly. “I guess not. Uncle Jasper says this isn’t your fault.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“He says it’s just like my mother forcing me to go to all those dreadful society teas. Only with you it was much harder.”
My eyes stung. I had hardly expected compassion from that quarter. She grinned suddenly. “Anyway, I’m awful at staying angry.” She flung her arms around me. “And it’s been so dull without you.” I hugged her back, feeling as if there had been ice in my belly and it was now melting. She settled back against the velvet cushions. “Besides, you’ve noble blood now, so I can hardly snub you,” she teased.
