I'd never seen such a hungry man.
The air was charged with our mutual taunting. I should have known better than to play a game with Gideon, for we were unfairly matched. But it didn't stop me. I wet my lips and he smiled-not a witty or encouraging smile. One that meant to disarm me.
A waltz was next and before I had a chance to deny or encourage, Gideon pulled me too tightly to him and moved us around the floor as if we were one. I scarce had time to breathe. I should have pushed him further away, it wasn't proper for him to mold my body to his. Instead, I was trapped in his gaze like a hunted animal seconds before the shot.
"Relax," he intoned. His voice, gravelly and low, came from someplace deeper inside him than usual. "For one night, Vi, just forget who you are and who I am. Forget the academy and the Colonel. Nobody knows you here, and if they did, they wouldn't care. Tonight, you're the sprite that haunts my dreams. Let yourself have this one night. Let us both…can you?" His fingers dug into my hip. "You've come this far, you may as well let it all go."
His words filled my head until there was no room for anything else. And so, to make room, I had to let some things go. Things I'd held on to so tightly.
Prim was the first to leave from my head, as I let the rigidness of my body relax, allowing more freedom-my first taste of it. Gideon had an amazing command of our flight. We whirled and dashed and it was more exhilarating than anything I'd known. I greeted the rush of air and sound with giddy abandon.
Proper was the second thing I released, as I pushed further into him where our bodies touched, delighting in the fierce intake of Gideon's breath and the ignition of a dangerous light in his eyes. I became the sprite he taunted me with.
Sense was the last to leave, emptying the space so that Gideon had full command of my every thought.
A new ache took residence over my body, but what I coveted, I wasn't sure. I only know that when the night ended, I wasn't ready to let go. The ride home on his whyrlygig gave me time to process my own behavior in relative peace. I wouldn't have recognized myself in that ribaldery. Perhaps it was a harmless flight of fancy, but I feared what would become of me after such a taste of decadence. Just as one spoonful of trifle at Thornfield ruined me forever for going back to the pasty gruel served at the academy, I wondered if I would ever be able to don my gray dress and not remember what it felt like to fly while wearing a silk one.
As Gideon led me back through the maze of secret corridors at the estate, I grew nervous about what would happen next. While he had never taken any actual liberties with me, would he expect to now? We danced perilously close to the edge of my ruin already. It would take barely a misstep to seal my fate.
I couldn't allow this flirtation to go any further.
We stopped at my secret door and Gideon showed me how to operate it from the other side. We stepped in and I turned, my mouth open to begin a litany of all the reasons why he needed to go.
Instead, I said, "I'm thirsty now, Gideon."
His eyes registered barely a moment of confusion before recognition dawned and he kissed me.
I'd never been kissed, so I have no comparison, but as his mouth glided over mine, I imagined that girls would stand in line to receive his kisses. I'd been a fool to think I flew on the dance floor. This was flying.
His lips danced on mine, coaxing a rhythm that matched the pounding of my pulse. If anyone were to find me in such a compromising position, I would lose everything-but I could not break his hold over me.
Gideon groaned and pulled away, taking a large step backwards. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" I asked. My lips bruised and trembling.
"Well, no."
We stared at each other across the foot of space between us. Though it was only a step, the separation felt like a huge ravine. We both shook from wanting to cross but not wanting to fall.
"I should let you get your rest," he said and turned.
"Wait," I said. His eyes ignited, waiting for me to ask him to stay. "Your coat."
He blinked. "Right."
I unbuttoned it while he waited. He watched me like I was unwrapping a gift for him. He licked his lips and a sensation of desire I'd never experienced before hit me like waves buffeting a sea wall. I turned my back to him as he slid the coat from my shoulders, his hot breath on my nape, and felt him step back when my arms slid free.
"Good night, Violet."
I didn't watch him leave. I couldn't.
THE NEXT few days were busy as the whole household prepared for the holiday, so I was able to easily stay out of Gideon's path. Though, perhaps, he'd been staying out of mine.
I lifted my chin out of habit. Well, that was just fine if he was. Just fine.
Phillip was reading, a torturous exercise I put him through day after day, and I was helping one of the maids, Marisol, hang a garland of evergreen boughs when Oliver entered the salon.
"Miss Merriweather, you've a guest," he said as gloomily as ever.
How odd. I turned to look over my shoulder, but couldn't let go of the garland. In the doorway, stood Mrs. Witherspoon, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. As usual, it was impossible to read any emotion in her face.
I am sure I looked a fright. We'd been decorating with the evergreen all morning-I'd be finding needles on my person for the next several days. The pins had been knocked loose from my hair leaving it half up and half down, and sap had collected on my hands and face over the hours. "Er, hello, Mrs. Witherspoon. What a pleasant surprise."
Her eyes darted from my face to the precarious step-ladder I was atop. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you more warning, Miss Merriweather. I meant to leave this note, but they assured me you were allowed visitors."
"That I am. Give me one moment to extricate myself from the indoor forest, please. Phillip, you may be excused."
His face lit up, and he wasted no time in his escape. Oliver relieved me my end of the garland and I wiped as much stickiness from my hands as I could as I joined Mrs. Witherspoon at the door.
"Shall I ring for tea, then?" I asked, wondering what I owed this visit to. I never expected her to check on my arrangements. I was of the mind that once she let one of her flock go, we were on our own, never to return to the nest.
"This isn't a social call, I'm afraid. Is there a place where we might speak privately?"
Now that really was odd. "Of course."
We sequestered ourselves in the small sitting room across the vestibule. Her eyes darted about nervously, never landing in one place too long.
"Are you doing well, Violet?" she asked me. "Do you like your post?"
"Very much. Phillip is a wonderful student and my accommodations are more than comfortable, as you can see."
Her lips pressed together in a firm line briefly before the mask returned. "And they are treating you well."
"Very well, Mrs. Witherspoon."
She didn't rush to fill the silence. The tick tocker on the wall kept track of every missed opportunity to break the awkward quiet.
She exhaled loudly. "You've perhaps heard the distressing news about the missing maid from the Havendish Estate?" Mrs. Witherspoon had never looked the picture of robust health, but her pale skin drew tighter over her high cheekbones than usual, and the bruise-purple crescents under her eyes were more vivid.
"Yes, of course."
She closed her eyes, "The newspapers mistakenly reported her as a maid. I'm so sorry, Violet. Shelby…Shelby had recently taken a position as companion to the aging Mrs. Wilkes at Havendish. That afternoon, they had been shopping and Shelby went missing. They've not found her, or evidence that she is…well."
Dots began to dance in my eyes like fireflies. I tried to blink them away but they persisted until everything around me darkened but the flickering pattern of lights.
"They've pronounced her dead. Shelby is gone, Violet."
Gone.
I tried to stand, but the world lost substance. I remember trying to say there had been a mistake. That she couldn't be gone, not Shelby. No
t my sweet, darling Shelby. And then I remember falling endlessly into a graceless slumber.
When I woke up, I was lying on the sofa and John was kneeling in front of me holding a cool cloth to my forehead. I was disoriented and nauseous, so I blinked instead of speaking.
"There she is," he said, his friendly tone soothing.
I groaned, bringing my hand to the lump on my temple. "What happened?" I tried to sit up, but John pushed me back gently.
"It's better to rest a few minutes more. The doctor is on his way."
"Doctor?" I frowned. "What is going on?"
"You had a spill. Mrs.Witherspoon says you bumped your head on the table on your way down. It's a nasty lump you've got there, and you were unconscious for several minutes."
Mrs. Witherspoon. It all came back in a rush of sadness.
"Oh, Shelby," I cried. It was real, then.
John looked behind him and gestured. Mrs. Witherspoon entered my line of sight. Oh, how I wished it had been a bad dream.
"I'm truly sorry, Violet. I didn't want to leave until I knew you were all right, but the other girls…" she trailed off.
"Of course. They need you now."
After she left, I tried to go to my room, but John refused. "You shouldn't be alone right now, Violet."
I stared at the ornate plaster ceiling. "I am alone, John."
"How can you say that?" He took my hand in his large, warm one. "You have us."
I pulled my hand out of his. "I'm your employee. No, not even that. I am an employee of the estate. If I were to disappear tomorrow, the most that would be said about me is 'a maid from Thornfield disappeared today'." I finished sitting up. Slowly so he wouldn't notice how weak it made me. "I should not have forgotten my place."
"You know we don't feel that way about you. You've been here a short time, but you're important to us. Phillip is doing so well with your guidance. He's a happy boy. And I've found…I've found a friendship with you I hadn't expected. I know you are hurting right now, but you don't have to hurt alone." His beautiful blue eyes shone with concern and something else I needed to ignore.
I wished very much I could take what he offered, solace, comfort…maybe more. Perhaps, even an hour ago, had he said to me that I belonged to Thornfield and that Thornfield belonged to me I would have accepted that I belonged somewhere. Finally.
But it was too much to bear now.
Who knows what horrors Shelby faced before she died-perhaps she was still living them. She'd never done anything to anyone and now she was gone as if she never mattered at all. But she did matter. She mattered very much to me.
I blinked back the onslaught of hot tears and begged John to allow me peace. I couldn't bear to hold them back much longer, and it wouldn't do to lose control in front of my employer. He squeezed my hand and reluctantly allowed me to retreat.
The physician saw to me in my quarters, prescribing rest and a tincture that tasted like bark. The lump on my head ached some, but was nothing compared to the hole in my heart. Even though we hadn't spoken in awhile, I'd taken comfort in Shelby's presence in my life. Because I had her, regardless of proximity, I was not alone.
Now I was.
I didn't sleep, take a tray, or light a candle, much less a fire. I barely moved for hours sitting in a chair and staring at the wall. Life was precarious and its sands sifted quickly through the hourglass, I knew that. I'd always known that. But for the first time in my life, I wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all.
Tomorrow, I would close what was left of the wound in my heart and carry on. Wiser, I hoped. Never again would I allow anyone to matter so much, for it was not my lot in life to depend on love, friendship, or family.
Tomorrow I would pick up the pieces. Tonight, I would grieve.
Hours later, the cold seeping into my bones became painful, but I couldn't work up the gumption to move, much less build a fire. When I heard the wall slide open, I should have been surprised, but wasn't.
"Violet, it's freezing in here." Gideon's candle, the only light in the room, backlit his face in a ghostly fashion. "What the devil do you mean to do, freeze to death?"
Perhaps Shelby was still out there, in the cold, freezing to death.
I looked away and said nothing.
He went about lighting the aether logs, muttering about foolishness and melodrama. I continued my silence strike. Once he was satisfied that the flames were strong enough, he crossed the room and dragged the quilt from my bed. Stalking over to my chair, he made quick work of cocooning me in the bed covers, and amid my protest, he scooped me up.
"Put me down, Gideon. I'm in no mood for your shenanigans tonight."
"My shenanigans?" He unceremoniously plopped me on the floor in front of the fire. "I'm not the one courting pneumonia in the freezing cold." While he spoke, he lowered himself to the carpet behind me and pulled me between his legs so that my back was to his chest and his arms surrounded me with his heat. "If you had come across one of the girls from your academy playing such melodramatic games, you'd be livid."
"I don't want to talk about the academy or anything else."
I tried to pull away, but the cage of his arms was solid.
"Then don't talk. Listen. And stop struggling. Your only recourse right now is screaming, and I doubt you want to bring the household to this current folly."
Again, the unfairness of my life filled my chest with bitterness. He was right. Gideon could do anything he liked to me. My choices were to let him or lose everything to the scandal of being found alone with a man in my room. At that moment, I hated him.
I stopped struggling.
"Good girl. Now listen to me. Your friend would not want you to martyr yourself this way. You are doing her memory no favors."
"Please go," I whispered, my desperation louder than the words.
Gideon's arms went slack. "I wish I could leave you alone, sprite. God knows. But you worry me and I'm terrible with concern. I don't know what to do with it."
That I believed.
"I'm fine." I sniffed.
He rested his chin on my shoulder. "You're breaking my heart."
"That is the first humorous thing I've heard all day."
"That's my girl." He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, warming me whether I wanted it or not.
"Gideon, you're too close. You shouldn't even be here."
Now that I was warming up, it felt as if my skin were prickling. I almost wished he'd rub my arms again, but of course didn't voice my desire. It wasn't my place to ask for things. I was to be happy for whatever I received, after all.
We stared into the fire, sharing the silence while the blaze ate the logs in a cacophony of hissing and spitting. Behind me, Gideon shuffled a bit and procured a flask, holding it in front of me, he asked, "Drink?"
"No, thank you."
"It will warm you up."
I sighed and gave in, knowing he would badger me until I did, anyway. It took a bit for me to unwrap my arms from the cocoon he'd made me, but I grasped the flask from him and sipped carefully.
Whatever it was burned a path from my throat to my belly. An involuntary shiver wracked my body. But he was right, it did warm me up. "That's awful," I managed, glad he couldn't see my scrunched up face from his position.
"That is very expensive and well-aged brandy."
"Well, it's awful expensive and well-aged brandy."
"Do you want another sip?"
"Yes, please."
We passed it back and forth another time, and then I declined the offer for more. I'd done my duty to him, apparently, as he didn't harangue me for another drink. Instead, he did worse.
"Tell me about your friend."
I shook my head violently. "I don't wish to talk right now, Gideon, please don't make me."
We were quiet for a few more moments, listening to the wind and the crackle of the fire. He broke the silence with news of the weather.
"It's snowing again tonight."
Weather, I could manage.
"Oh? Are we in for much do you suppose?"
"Likely." And then. "Bloody hell. This is ridiculous. I won't carry on this inane, polite conversation. Not with you. Tell me about your friend, Violet." His tone was acerbic, but he kneaded my shoulders gently.
"Her name was Shelby."
"Have you known her long?"
"All my life." My voice broke and he turned me into his chest. And I let him.
I'd thought I wrung out all the tears I had for Shelby, but there were buckets more. Gideon held me, rocking me gently, and soothed me with more inane platitudes that would have meant nothing if they'd come from anyone else.
And then, he held me some more. Until my tears had dried.
He placed me on the bed, removed my boots and most of my clothes, and took down my hair. I let him. It was wrong of me, I know, but I let him just the same.
"What were you doing before you hit your head?"
"Hanging evergreen garland with Marisol."
"You have more sap in your hair than a normal tree would hold. Good luck getting that out tomorrow," he said. And then, Gideon-the-Heartless tucked me into my bed covers, pressed a kiss to my nose, and sat in the chair in front of the fire until I fell asleep.
And I let him.
THE NEXT evening, I excused myself from dinner with claims of a headache and retired to my chambers. I set the fire in the grate, changed into my most worn, therefore most comfortable nightgown, and curled into bed with my eNovelizer and a heavy heart.
I'd managed to fulfill my obligations for the day without shedding a tear. Phillip hadn't known what was wrong, but knew I was upset and behaved so angelically that I missed the precocious boy I usually dealt with. Gideon had been conspicuously absent, yet always in my thoughts, and John had remained in my peripheral vision, but never intrusive, as if to say he was there if I needed him. The brothers Winston were bound and determined to tangle me despite my efforts to protect my heart from all three of them.
Though I'd loaded so many books onto my device that I'd never be able to read them all, I was surprised to see that the list had been extended by at least ten books I'd never heard of. As I scrolled the catalog, my curiosity piqued even more as they were all books from or about the 21st Century.
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