by Beth Byers
Perhaps, however, Violet was reading her friend’s desires wrong. Or maybe, Kate would only want to learn and then move onto learning something else. Violet guessed it might be more that last version. Violet reminded herself that Victor’s desires as far as Kate’s hobbies were really of little weight. Violet did hope he’d make some comment eventually, just to tease him endlessly about it.
Violet was happy about the idea just long enough for her to realize that Jack’s country home was in Kent and this house was quite a ways away. A sudden horror occurred to Violet as she stared at the house. It was too far. She didn’t want to be half the country away from her twin brother. At least not for longer than a few days here and there. The idea struck her hard and furious, and she realized just why she had been despising this house.
Violet skipped up the stairs as though pursued by the thought. This house! Oh, this house! It was too far. Jack couldn’t sell his family acres to be closer to Victor. Her eyes burned and the exhaustion of being ill combined with the storm of the emotions. She changed quickly, dashing away a quick tear, scolding herself the entire time, trying to find the control to mask her reaction. Jack’s gaze was too penetrating and even while sick, Victor knew her too well for her to get away with being distressed. The last thing she wanted was to be cornered and fail at lying about why she was upset. What if Jack wasn’t imagining them wed as she was? What if Victor wasn’t bothered by the separation? Maybe that was why he’d bought so far away.
She forced herself to focus on her clothes. She gazed into the mirror and then chucked her dress onto the end of the bed. She had already learned that one must have a heavier skirt if one was to bicycle. As long as Violet wasn’t racing down a hill on the bicycle, her skirt would stay reasonably in place. Even still, Violet put thick stockings on. She had a rather heavy wool skirt, a pretty sailor’s blouse that tied at her neck, and then a wool coat that buttoned at her waist, accentuating her slim figure.
She stared at her face. She was tired already. Her legs hurt, and the toast had long since been insufficient. She wanted a warm bowl of soup, some ginger wine, and a fireplace alone where she could mope about the unfair truths of the map and the distance between the two houses.
Violet selected sturdy shoes but tried to perk herself up by adding gold earbobs and a couple of rings. Those would give her something to play with when the villagers took in the party of Londoners and judged them unfairly.
Violet took long enough to apply some rouge, lipstick, and kohl. She wasn’t interested in pretending to be something other than what she was for the locals. So it may have been sheer spite that had her applying the kohl heavily. There would be no way her powder would last through a vigorous bicycle ride, but the rest of her makeup should stay strong. The locals were just going to have to recognize that Violet and their friends weren’t going to pretend to not like cocktails and jazz because they were considered fast here. Nor was Violet going to apologize for every drink she enjoyed because one of the locals foisted his house off on a drunk Victor.
Chapter 5
The gardener, Philip, was trimming a unicorn hedge when they rode their bicycles down the lane. He nodded but didn’t call a greeting. Yet again, Violet felt as though she’d been undressed, and Lila’s frown told Violet she wasn’t alone in her feelings.
The two friends glanced at each other and Violet was sure fury lit her expression. Her anger provided her with the energy to keep up with the others. Jack looked a bit like a giant riding a Lilliputian’s bicycle. His knees stuck out at an awkward angle, and she was betting he would either order himself a larger bicycle or they wouldn’t be able to persuade him on another ride.
Victor’s face was flushed with an unearned redness. On an average day, Victor normally wouldn’t have shown signs of struggle. The sweat pouring off his forehead proclaimed his fever. Kate pulled to a stop about a mile down the lane. “Give me a moment would you? I suppose there was too much lollygagging in Cuba.”
She wiped her brow while Victor coughed into his sleeve. They all watched him struggle to catch his breath. Once he stopped hacking, Jack asked Kate, “Do you need a few more minutes?”
Her gaze was carefully not on Victor when she replied. “I think I’ll be able to carry on.”
Violet’s mouth twitched, but she turned her head away so Victor couldn’t see her expression. His tight eyes told her he was struggling, and because she loved him, she wanted to shake him within an inch of his life. A wicked idea struck her as she slowed her pace. A part of her wanted to stick a stick in his spokes, but she contained herself.
When they arrived at the pub, Victor was struggling again. He was pouring sweat and his drenched handkerchief seemed to be dripping. She shook her head and glanced around the town. The pub itself was fabulous. It looked as if it had been open since Victoria reigned. It was brick with stone and a roof that had probably been replaced a dozen or more times. It looked as though it needed to be replaced again. The sign creaked in the wind.
The group of friends with their bicycles got sideways looks from every single person they passed. At first Violet felt it was because Jack was rather ridiculous on that bicycle. It took her a moment to realize it was because they were new. Everyone in this town knew each other, and their heads slowly turned as the group passed.
“You look a bit like a monkey riding a tricycle, old man,” Denny told Jack.
The roadway was cobblestone and the shops were carefully tended with flowers and fresh paint for the most part. As Violet took in the scene, she saw Mrs. King a few buildings down.
“I’ll be a minute,” she told Jack. Vi didn’t bother with Victor since they were still at daggers drawn. He sneezed into his handkerchief and staggered into the pub. “Try to get him to drink something that might kill the cold before I put him out of his misery.”
Jack’s lips twitched and he nodded. Violet crossed to Mrs. King. “Hello again!”
Mrs. King nodded and then glanced from Violet to the pub and back again.
Violet understood the expression. “I understand that the fish and chips are quite delightful here.”
Mrs. King softened just a bit. “They are. John Eppins is brilliant in the kitchen. I think about his stew every time I have a chill. I see you’re feeling better. I’m happy for it.”
Violet grinned winningly, but Mrs. King didn’t react to the grin. “I truly am. It was touch and go there for a while. Mostly go. I slept several days straight, but now all is well. We were thinking of going for a longer ramble tomorrow. Do you have any suggestions?”
Mrs. King softened a little more with the request for assistance in such a respectable pastime. Perhaps if Violet and Kate were seen enough with books in hand or visiting widows, the locals would stop taking note of every drink they consumed.
Mrs. King described a walk to Violet that started behind the graveyard and wandered through the countryside. It was defined enough, she said, from steady travel not to worry about getting lost in a random wood.
“I understand you brought in Londoners to be your servants.”
She’d have apologized for it if they hadn’t tried to find locals first. She was about finished with not being good enough for these folks.
“To be honest, I was sick while the servants were being hired, but I understand they did try to find someone here. I…well…those who were interested were—” Violet glanced around as though someone would be eavesdropping. The truth was she wasn’t sure how to say that her brother selected the long-time servant with a bad reputation over another set of locals. Either way, it felt odd. “They had some objections to the existing staff.”
Mrs. King nodded. She clearly knew exactly to whom Violet was referencing. They both, however, pretended otherwise.
“I had better join my friends. I don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“Who have you got with you?” Mrs. King ignored Violet’s edging away.
“Oh, long-time friends. I think they were even more excited than Victor to see what
he’d bought.”
“And are your friends also the kind to make major purchases while in their cups?”
Violet winked and pretended the pointed question was humor-filled rather than judgmental. “I fear we have very responsible friends who are far more likely to research the rainfall and the train schedules before making such a purchase. Perhaps they find us adorable?” She smiled, including herself in the drunken purchase. She tried to seem cheery and was almost certain that she seemed irritated. “I must be off. Lovely seeing you again.”
Violet walked away before Mrs. King could stop her. Rather than going into the pub, she found her way to the chemist shop, made a quick purchase, tucking the parcel into her handbag, and then found her friends.
They’d taken the table near the fire, and Victor had the seat that should have left him uncomfortable with heat, but he was shivering. She met Jack’s gaze, who shook his head once. Lovely. Victor hadn’t fallen for Jack ordering the whiskey for him. As though he could win against Violet when he was barely functioning.
Violet grinned at the lad who’d appeared to lead her to the table. She paused him, placing her hand on his arm. “Do you see that rather tall, slim, stubborn-looking man who’s clearly becoming too-well acquainted with both your fireplace and possibly also that bloke, death?”
The spotty young man nodded with a wicked grin that he was trying to fight. Violet fluttered her lashes up at the kid. He blushed brilliantly at her and then stuttered even though she hadn’t asked him anything yet. “Would you mind getting my brother a hot toddy? Just put it next to him. The same with his meal. No matter what else he orders, put a bowl of your famous stew next to him. But a word of warning?”
The lad blushed again in the light of her direct gaze. “Yes ma’am. Um? Yes? How…um…what?”
“Make sure his order is correct. He’s in a fine, prickly form today since he’s ill and clearly should be in bed.”
He nodded, blushing a deep red. “Yes, ma’am.”
Violet took the seat that had been left for her, and Victor scowled her way. She turned her fiercest frown on him while Kate hummed under her breath just loud enough to catch Victor’s attention before he could attack.
“I must say,” Kate declared, “this village is simply delightful. I’m not sure I’ve liked a place as quickly as this one. The church is lovely, the gardens abound, even hanging baskets along the main street? It’s rather shockingly lovely every which way one turns.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Denny cut in, taking her same cheery tone and ignoring the scowling Victor, who had a hot toddy placed next to him with a pint of the local ale. “I say, my lad, that does look good. May I have one of those?”
Victor started to offer his drink, shooting Violet a nasty look as he did, and she called out, “How right you are, Denny! One for everyone please.”
Her brother’s gaze narrowed on hers, knowing all too well she was trying to get him to drink the one she’d ordered for him. Violet made an internal bet that he’d drink the hot toddy regardless. If he didn’t, she just might have Jack hold Victor down while she poured it down his stubborn, vicious throat.
Without her expression betraying her, Violet told Kate, “I was just telling Mrs. King that I’d slept for days since we last saw her. Have you been able to explore the rose gardens?”
“Kate and I went to the dress shop,” Lila said, ignoring Victor’s harrumph. “I forgot my stockings. Can you imagine? In the spring when things are so wet. I am quite a dunce.”
Victor opened his mouth to agree, but he jumped instead. Had Kate kicked him under the table? Violet bit her bottom lip to keep back her crow of delight. If Kate could even halfway rein in the Victor run-amuck, Violet would be both astounded and amazed. She would be utterly certain it was true and abiding love between the two.
“Did you finish your investigation?” Violet asked Jack. Perhaps talk of London would—
“Course he did,” Victor snarled.
—so that wasn’t going to work. Not London.
Violet sipped the hot toddy that had been left next to her and debated throwing it in Victor’s lap. Jack placed his hand on hers. Was he reining Vi in? By Jove, Violet thought, Jack was doing just that. She glanced at him, and his lips twitched as he met her gaze. She scowled back at him. She didn’t have the patience for nasty Victor, and Jack thinking he could somehow control things just irritated her further.
She ordered her fish and chips and stared out the window while Victor snapped at Lila, then Jack, then Denny. The only one who escaped unscathed was Kate, who seemed to be intolerably tolerant of the fiend.
While Violet stared out the window, she saw the gardener walk past. There was a woman on his arm. She was blond, young, curvy as all get out, and utterly, shockingly beautiful. She spoke up to Philip as though pleading. What in the world was happening there?
Vi was tired of this luncheon with her brother, though she had to admit that the fish and chips were crisp and perfect. The fish flaked apart in her mouth, the chips were soft in the center, crisp on the outside, and salted just enough to remind her exactly how much she loved the things.
Violet leaned forward to watch Philip shake off the lovely blonde and step into the hardware store.
“You’ll catch flies with your mouth hanging open like that.” Victor’s cutting tone made her want to throw something. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. “Did I just see you watching the gardener? Careful Jack, you’ll lose my flighty sister to the servants.”
Violet turned slowly and her gaze met Victor’s. She could see that he knew he’d gone too far. Precisely, she set her napkin down on the table, glanced among their friends, and rose.
“I wonder,” she said idly, “just how abject your apologies will be when you’re back to yourself. Perhaps, if you’re lucky, I’ll forgive you. Then again, you’ve already sworn time and again to stop being a child while ill and yet here we are once again.”
She left the pub before someone could stop her and went down the nearest alley so that they couldn’t follow. She didn’t want to hear their excuses for her brother. She could make them herself. She knew he was ill. She knew he didn’t mean it. She even knew her lack of patience with the childish version of her brother made things worse. She didn’t need to hear it from the well-meaning.
She stepped into the first store before someone caught up with her, and found she’d discovered the bookstore. Violet wandered its aisles. An old friend in book form might be just the thing to get her through the day. Violet found a copy of Barchester Towers and ran her fingers over the words. This book and the sequel had once brought both Victor and Violet to tears with their laughter.
The problem was that she needed to escape her brother with an old friend and yet—any book she’d fallen in love with, she’d shared with him. Something then that only she liked. He wasn’t one for the romances. Jane, Violet thought. Yes, Jane Eyre.
“Hello there,” Violet said. “I’m looking for Jane Eyre…oh!” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of a Varney the Vampire. It was so bad and so great. The little man behind the counter found Violet a copy of Jane Eyre while she put Varney the Vampire, Barchester Towers, and Doctor Thorne on the pile.
“Did you want me to have them delivered?”
“I would like that,” Violet said, nodding. “Except for dear Jane.”
“Dear Jane? Hardly…” There was a bit of a challenge in the man’s gaze.
Violet lifted a brow, winked, and said, “Jane’s no Varney. But…‘Do you think, because she is poor, obscure, plain, and little, she is soulless and heartless? You think wrong!—She has as much soul as you,—and full as much heart!’” When Violet finished the quote she added, “There are many contenders for some of the greatest works of fiction, sir, and I won’t dispute with you regarding the placement of Varney the Vampire or my beloved Bulldog Drummond, but you and I shall come to blows over Jane Eyre.”
His mouth twitched and he held out his hands placatingly. “Apologies, madam.
I should have known better. I am, I fear, less entranced by mad wives locked in the attic and being lost on the moors than you young people.”
Violet grinned as she saluted with her copy of Jane Eyre and tucked the book into her bag. “Perhaps you would enjoy her more if you recognized that little and plain though she might be, Jane Eyre is a heroine to give one pause and perspective.”
“I concede, alas, I concede. I suppose I prefer my heroes to be men of honor. You may enjoy your funny little romance without a fight.”
“That, my friend, is where you are wrong. Very little is without a fight for a woman in these modern times. You are a man among men for delivering my goods even with your poor taste in protagonists. Thank you!”
Violet stepped away from the shop before she lost her temper, glancing about to ensure that no one was looking for her before she continued her solo exploration of the village.
Chapter 6
Violet adjusted her bag across her body as she glanced down the street. It was a leather satchel designed for men, but Violet appreciated being able to carry more than a compact and lipstick. She sighed, thinking of her friends and then hoped that Kate was scolding Victor and nudging him through his hot toddy and stew.
Violet spied the church, beyond which was the graveyard bordered by a wrought iron fence. She made her way towards the graveyard at a smart clip. She approached with half-glances over her shoulder, knowing she should go back and also knowing she wasn’t going to return to accept Victor’s bad behavior any time soon. She knew that sooner or later her friends would come after her. They were probably letting her cool down before they tried to talk sense into her.