Gwen Hayes

by Ours is Just a Little Sorrow

  "One that explains you, sir."

  Another spin. "I'm not really that complicated."

  "Oh, but you are."

  "I think you are the more interesting of the two of us. For instance, you pretend that you believe what society tells me about you, and yet nothing could be further from the truth."

  "What exactly does society tell you about me, Gideon?"

  He waltzed me out a side door into a dank, musty corridor. We stopped moving when he pushed my back to the wall and left not an inch between our bodies. "Society tells me that you are meek and malleable. That your sex needs to be quiet and biddable and that your station in life must keep you invisible. That I am somehow a better person than you because I can open jars and was born rich."

  He pressed against me harder and my senses heightened unbearably. His body so firm against my wielding softness. Every place we touched set off sparks, kindling a dangerous fire. His gaze traveled to my displayed cleavage and back to my lips, where it lingered, before meeting my own again.

  "But we both know none of that is true. You're worth one hundred of me on my best day." He ground the words out in a voice so deep, I felt the baritone of it in my fluttering stomach. "You pretend to go along with a society that tells me you're somehow less because you were born female, but deep down, you know it's not true. Why is it that you think it's better to go along with them when they seek to control and subdue you?"

  I couldn't think of anything but the way he could control and subdue me using his voice and the press of his body. He stared at my lips again, groaned when I couldn't stop myself from licking them. I arched my back to get more contact. "What are you doing to me, Gideon? I can't think. I don't even want to."

  His hands moved up my sides, cupping my bosom, squeezing gently. "You're the sweetest temptation. Every day I have to talk myself out of taking you, making you mine. I try to rationalize that if I just get it done, I'll be able to move on, get over this constant longing. Is that what you want? Do you want me to take you? Here? Now? Against this wall?"

  Yes. Yes, of course that's what I wanted. Everything in me screamed for him to find his pleasure in me. But I'd crossed too many lines already. I had very little of worth in this world, I needed to protect my virtue.

  He noticed when the sanity returned to my eyes. I read the disappointment in his, but something else, something that caused him to say, "Good girl," when he banked the fire of lust in his eyes.

  He was proud of me.

  The next day, I struggled to stay awake during Phillip's history lesson. Gideon had the luxury of sleeping the day away after a night of rabble rousing, but this governess did not. John took pity on me after a rather unladylike yawn and whisked Phillip to the lab for an impromptu science lesson.

  I tried to read some more but found myself dozing a bit when Oliver handed me a note from John. I'd been invited to the laboratory.

  Most often, I tried to stay away from John's lab. When he was in it, he became distracted and consumed with whatever he was working on, so it was usually a useless gesture to visit him there. I often worried that he'd forget Phillip was even with him, but I was assured by my charge that John was always most attentive on their shared lab days.

  I knocked and entered the huge space with tables of boiling liquids and automated who-knows-whats. Beakers and glass tubes lined the tables and I coughed a little at the smell of sulfur. At least, I hoped it was sulfur.

  Phillip was wearing a white coat that matched his brother, and they had both donned safety glasses. I was glad to see that John had taken me seriously about eye safety. Also, the matching coats were adorable. John was so good with him. It was a shame that the Colonel devoted so little time to parenting, but Phillip was exceedingly lucky to have John.

  Phillip smiled when he saw me and ran over to grab my hand. "You'll see! You'll see!" he yelled and led me to a small glass Petri dish. "I know you've been sad, so I wanted to make you something. John helped. But not too much because I'm a big boy."

  "Of course you are," I replied.

  He and John very seriously mixed some things from droppers and vials into the dish. One more dash of something, a slight pop, a puff of smoke, and an excited little boy squeal of delight later, above the Petri dish hovered a hologram of a perfect violet.

  "However did you do that?" I asked.

  "Perhaps someday I'll tutor you, Miss Merriweather," answered John, looking as pleased with himself as Phillip did.

  "It's a violet. Get it? Violet is your name," Phillip added.

  "It's beautiful." And it was. "Thank you so much. If you can tell me what letter violet starts with, you may have the rest of the day free from studies."

  After the correct answer, Phillip cleared out as fast as his little legs would allow. I offered to help clean up, but John would have none of it.

  "It's your gift. You can't clean up after a gift."

  I smiled. "Thank you for helping him, John. It means so much to me that you've taken such an interest in his education."

  "He was adamant about making you something to make you feel better. He told me your weakness was chocolate, but I doubted you would eat anything from my laboratory."

  I laughed at the truth of it. "I don't know how he came up with such a thing. Chocolate?"

  "I imagine he noticed that face you make when you eat the cakes at tea. I've certainly noticed that your favorite part of dinner is dessert."

  "What face?" I asked incredulously, laughing in spite of myself. It felt nice.

  "It's quite noticeable," John smiled, but a faint blush tinged his cheeks. "It's almost as if you were anticipating a kiss."

  Now it was my turn to blush. "I'm certain you are exaggerating."

  "Perhaps. But likely not." He busied himself with a vial. "Are you doing all right then, Violet? I've been worried about you. Your friend, the maid-"

  "Companion."

  "Sorry. Companion. You were very close?"

  I nodded.

  "I'm sorry to hear that. I know what it's like to lose someone close." He placed his warm, solid hand over mine. "I don't ever want to go through that pain again."

  The words were unsaid, but they didn't need to be aloud. I wasn't sure how I felt about him insinuating that he cared for me. A part of me felt warmed by his sweetness, but another part cooled.

  It wouldn't do, in any case, to be found in a compromising situation with John any more than with Gideon. I needed to extricate myself from both brothers.

  "Thank you." I pulled my hand away.

  "You're afraid to feel too much. I know how that is. I made a pact to never let anyone into my heart again the day my mother died. But with time, the healing will come, and one day you'll realize you're ready to take a chance again."

  "I'm certain this conversation is not appropriate, John."

  He grasped my elbows and me toward him. "One day will happen, and I'll be here Violet."

  "John-"

  "I'm sorry. I know my timing is horrible and you aren't ready for this now. But I'm staking my claim. When you're ready, I'll still be here."

  He kissed my forehead and strode from the room.

  What a mess I'd made.

  One brother, sweet and warm, would have been an excellent match were I born from different circumstances. The other, dangerous and unnerving, would never do in any circumstance. But it was Gideon I thought of when I repeated John's words in my head.

  My heart, it seemed, had already been staked.

  THOUGH THE house was alive with candlelight and greenery, it was missing its heart and it never showed more than on Christmas Eve. All the candles in the world couldn't light the shadows of Thornfield.

  Gideon chose Christmas Eve to stay home and fulfill his end of our midnight bargain. I thought it was cheating, as he should have stayed home Christmas anyway, but I was assured by careful inquiry of the household staff that it was, indeed, something new to have him there, awake and sober, on a holiday.

  As I helped the maid, Jeanette,
finish decorating for a small party, the Colonel stopped in the parlor.

  "Miss Merriweather, why aren't you ready?" he asked gruffly, already seeming to be walking backwards out of the room as if my answer had no consequence.

  "Colonel?"

  "For the party." He shook the bulldog at me. "You need to get ready. You can't very well wear that."

  I looked down at my dress, perfectly acceptable for the activity I was currently pursuing, and purchased by the Colonel in any case. "Colonel, I'm not sure I understand. You expect me to attend your Christmas party? I'm the governess."

  "I fail to see why I need to explain myself to you, Miss Merriweather. As you say, you are merely a governess. Put on a frock and do something with your hair. My sons don't seem to know how to act in company without your presence." He huffed and spun out of the room.

  I was aghast. "I most certainly did not say merely a governess."

  Jeannette giggled, and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I had not meant to say that aloud.

  "Do you have a party frock, Violet?" she asked in good humor.

  I shot her a look that I expect she read quite well. Neither of the outfits I'd worn to the ribaldery were suitable, and according to my employer, neither of my serviceable gowns would work either. "No."

  "Come along then." Much like Minerva, she grasped my wrist and led me to her quarters, stopping to inform a maid or two of the new happenstance along the way.

  In her chambers, the ones she shared with two other girls, I was placed in a chair. Jeannette reached under the bed and brought out a dusty box tied with twine. "So much for Clare cleaning under the bed regularly," she said as she blew the dust off. "This will be perfect. Take down your hair while I shake the dress out."

  I doubted it would be perfect, as Jeanette was three inches taller and blessed with curves one could barely see around. I started removing pins as she untied the string and pulled out a gorgeous green dress. It was nothing like the outfits Minerva had in her room, but it was lovely nonetheless.

  Too lovely. The fabric must have cost a fortune considering Jeanette's wages.

  "The dress is very dear, Jeannette. I can't possibly borrow it. You should save it for a special outing."

  She smiled like a woman with secrets, and she patted the dress. "I've had my special outing in it. Besides, where would I wear it now?"

  Her eyes went someplace else, for a bit, and then she trained them on me with full concentration. Once again, I was to be made anew by another person and another new dress. Jeanette called upon Marisol to do a quick hem once the gown was on. Jeannette herself brushed and coiled my hair into coronets, and then pinched my cheeks for color.

  Was it just the other night my face had been painted for the same reason?

  As she threaded sprigs of baby's breath and dried roses into my hair, she suddenly looked years younger. She was actually getting excited. As if she were getting ready for a ball rather than attending to me for a dinner party. We'd never been close and I didn't deserve her rapt attention any more than I'd deserved Minerva's.

  "Why are you helping me?" I asked.

  "Why wouldn't I?" Jeannette answered. "We women need to stick together. Especially now…" Her voice trailed off.

  Especially now. She was right. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I'm sure the gown looks much better on you. I wish you could go in my place."

  She and Marisol thought that was uproariously amusing. "I'd rather do just about anything than go to that Christmas party," Jeanette said when she could catch her breath.

  "Is it that bad?" They only laughed harder "Why must I go?" I asked, sounding very much like Phillip.

  "If you thought the Colonel was bad, wait until you meet his sister. She's a pill that one."

  I smoothed down the fabric and looked at myself in the mirror. The dress actually was perfect. After the hem and well placed clip to shirr the fabric, I looked more than presentable. And completely different from the other night. It was as if each new day, I found something new in my own reflection.

  "Who else will be there?"

  "Lady Leanna, probably. The Colonel's been trying to marry Master Gideon to her for going on two years."

  I held my facial expression very still to not arouse suspicion. "Oh? What is she like?"

  "Beautiful. Icy. Rich," answered Marisol. "The usual."

  "Are they courting?" My heart plummeted down, down, down, even as my mind wagged a finger and an I told you so at it.

  "Master Gideon is very cordial to her. You know what that means."

  I smiled because otherwise I would cry. "That he'll marry her." Of course he would.

  "Heavens, no. That man is only nice to women he has no use for." Marisol nodded to Jeanette for confirmation that I was done, and by silent agreement the three of us headed out the door.

  "I don't understand." We walked down the hall and stopped at the stairs.

  Marisol squeezed my shoulders. "Sure you do, Vi. He's a scallywag, though I'd defend him to my death, I would. The ladies his father parades under his nose are not the kind of women he likes."

  "What kind does he like?"

  "Not the kind that he'll meet in his father's parlor, that's for sure," Jeanette answered.

  As we made our way down the stairs, I realized, once again, that my foolish heart deserved every crack it gained from caring how the rest of the conversation went.

  "Does he trifle with the staff, Jeannette?"

  "Heavens, no. He just associates with women who the Colonel would hate."

  I suppose I was relieved at that. "Why doesn't the Colonel try to marry John first? Isn't he the eldest?"

  "There's been plenty of that, to be sure. But Lady Leanna has shown special interest in Gideon, if you take my meaning."

  I felt nauseous. Had I really thought I was special?

  We stopped down the hall from the parlor doors. That was as far as they'd be going with me it seemed.

  "Have a nice time, dear," Jeanette said, and they both chortled as they walked away.

  I took a deep breath and rounded the last corner. John joined me the instant I stepped into the parlor, as if he'd been waiting. He bowed. "You look lovely."

  I tried on a winsome smile. "Thank you, John. I feel a bit peculiar, though. I'm not sure why your father was so insistent that I come."

  I felt the heat of Gideon's gaze from across the room and tried to pay attention to John's answer while my insides melted like candle wax.

  "You've been good for our family. I'm sure he just wants to make sure you feel welcome."

  John introduced me first to his Aunt Edna, though he failed to mention that I was in the family's employ.

  She scrutinized me carefully. "You'll do," she said, echoing her elder brother's declaration of me.

  From the corner of my eye, I beheld Gideon speaking with what had to be Lady Leanna. She was beautiful, and anyone in the room would proclaim their matching dark looks would beget handsome children. And all the while he appeared to be the perfect gentleman, I saw Gideon as I never once saw him with me.

  Bored.

  John rescued me from his Aunt Edna's continued scrutiny by suggesting that I meet Lady Leanna. I felt it was like rescuing me from a snake to pit me against a lion.

  We met in the middle of the room, each of us on the arm of a Winston brother. After the formalities occurred, Lady Leanna sized me up as if perhaps she wondered how she'd get the stain of me off a good lace table cloth. She tightened her clutch on Gideon's elbow and pursed her lips. "How very fortunate I am to have another woman here this evening. So often, I'm the only unmarried female at Thornfield gatherings."

  She looked anything but pleased. I rather suspected she preferred the attention.

  As if remembering his manners, John said, "Let me get you a drink, Violet. The cider is quite good."

  "Thank you," I replied, not missing the subtle arch of Gideon's eyebrow.

  Alone with a barracuda and a shark.

  Gideon spoke fir
st, "You look lovely this evening, Violet. The green of your gown matches your eyes."

  "Thank you," I replied, not missing the subtle arch of Lady Leanna's eyebrow.

  Hurry back, John.

  "Will your family be joining us as well? I'm not acquainted with any Merriweathers."

  "No," I answered, not filling in any blanks.

  "Violet lives here. She's Phillip's governess," Gideon supplied.

  "Oh." She blinked her surprise.

  Gideon watched me with stony countenance as I blushed. I shouldn't have come. I needed to stop playing dress-up games and pretending to be someone I'm not. I'm not sure what he wished to do with that answer, other than give her ammunition.

  Lady Leanna thought for a moment and then handed me her empty cider cup. "Perhaps you can take this back to the kitchen for me. I'm done," she said, and walked away.

  My lower lip trembled but didn't hold back the biting tone of my words. "Why did you do that? I didn't ask to come. I didn't want to be here. Why would you humiliate me like that? I thought…I thought at the very least we were friends."

  Gideon plucked the dirty cup from my hands and placed it on the nearby mantel. "Why are you humiliated? She's the one who should be ashamed of herself. Did you see the way she treated you? Close your mouth, sprite. Gaping is very unattractive."

  "You set me up!" I whisper-shouted. "You just had to put me in my place. Was it that important to you that she understand I am merely a governess?"

  I tried to storm away in an indignant huff, but Gideon stepped in front of me. "I'm sorry. I meant to prove a point about this society that you refuse to condemn. I didn't mean to hurt you. Only to show how shallow they are and why I want nothing to do with them."

  "You are that society, Gideon. You think you're above them, but you're not. All your ironic posturing aside, you have the power to change things but you don't. You'd rather just complain about indignities of a class you don't know the first thing about. If it's so awful, do something about it."

  Oblivious to the tension between us, John brought me a warm cider. "Ho, there."

  I took the drink and willed my face to cool down from what I'm sure was a fiery red. From behind his back, John produced his other hand, in it a chocolate biscuit. I blinked back a tear. He was sweet. Sweeter than I deserved.