“Now I would like to sincerely apologize for speaking to Lord Neil about your poetry without your permission or knowledge. I truly did not think it would upset you in this way but after taking some time to consider it, I now see your point. However...”
Owen paused as he pondered the best way to phrase this next part. He could see Violet bristle in anticipation of what he would say.
“I see that I went about the situation the wrong way, but I do believe you may not be allowing yourself to live to your full potential. You see...I’ve seen so many dreams taken away long before their time. I simply don’t want you to have any regrets.”
Owen watched Violet’s reaction as he spoke and gladly noticed her soften as she contemplated his words.
“I appreciate your concern, Owen. But I urge you to understand that I have accepted my lot in life. I am content here, truly.” She gave a small but unconvincing smile.
Owen stared into her eyes for a long moment, reading deeply into the hesitation, regret, and melancholy he saw there.
Violet blushed under his gaze and looked away. “Why do you stare at me so intently?”
“For as many times as I’ve heard you say that you are grateful for your position, that you are proud to serve the family, that Lady Neil is a wonderful mistress, all things I know to be true...I have never heard you once describe yourself as happy.”
Violet’s green eyes widened in shock. Perhaps she had not realized it for herself or perhaps she had simply never allowed herself to realize it. But before she could try to explain it away, Owen had one last thing he needed to say.
“Remember, Violet. Happiness is worth fighting for.”
Owen bowed his head and turned his back to Violet. As he walked out of the servants’ hall, leaving her with those thoughts, Owen’s heart did not feel any better as he’d hoped it would.
Owen had said more than he’d intended and his words carried a realization for himself as well.
Happiness was worth fighting for. He knew this in his bones. He served his country so that every English man, woman, and child could have their chance at happiness.
And he would fight for Violet’s happiness with all his power. Even if it meant he would have to remove himself from her side to secure her long-term happiness.
He’d already hurt her once even with his best intentions. He couldn’t risk the possibility of causing her worse pain in the future.
Chapter 15
The curl fell out as Violet’s pin failed to hold it up yet again. She sighed and took the same soft strand of hair, winding it around her finger before trying again.
A million pieces from yesterday’s events raced through Violet’s mind, one chasing after another without giving her any reprieve. The same had happened all through the night. She had no idea how she still stood with any energy in her body.
“Violet, please stop.”
Violet started at the sound of Lady Neil’s voice and she dropped the curl once more. She glanced into the mirror and saw the baroness’s eyes examining her reflection, blue eyes meeting green eyes through the glass.
“I’m terribly sorry, my lady. I don’t know what is wrong with these dreadful fingers today.” Violet picked up the same strand of hair she’d been working and fumbled to put it right.
“It’s quite alright, Violet. But please stop for a moment. I have heard the news so I know there is something weighing on your mind.”
Violet let Lady Neil’s hair dangle over her shoulder. She gave a small nod. Surely everyone in the house must know by now that her eldest brother was dead and the other had been reduced to an impenitent beggar. But Lady Neil could not know of the other situation that troubled Violet.
The baroness’s head tilted to the side and she looked at Violet curiously through the mirror. “Perhaps there is more than one something—or someone—weighing on your mind.”
Violet flushed and lowered her head. She may have enough energy to stand and attempt to do her work but she did not have enough energy to fight.
“I hoped that you could run into town today and pick up a few items for me. There is a special package waiting in the bookshop that I had special ordered for Lord Neil’s birthday. I trust you will retrieve it and deliver it to me with the utmost discretion. And I think a little fresh air will do you some good.”
Lady Neil smiled kindly at Violet and Violet found herself happily agreeing. Some time outside of the house and away from the walls that enclosed her troubles would be welcome indeed. And the weather had been uncommonly nice for this time of year.
It was still cold with dustings of snow but many days were pleasant enough to be outside as long as one properly bundled themselves. The thought of the outing enabled Violet’s tired body to resume her task and finally complete it.
“Thank you, Violet. You may go get yourself ready now. I can manage the rest myself.” Lady Neil’s elegant fingers sifted through one of the small plates on her vanity that held brooches and rings and decorative hairpins, searching for a complimentary piece to her dress and hair.
Violet curtseyed and made her way to the door of the dressing room. But just as she opened it to exit through Lady Neil’s bedchamber, her mistress’s voice called out to her again.
“Oh and Violet, a footman and Captain Jessup will be waiting for you with the carriage.”
Violet paused in the doorway and look over her shoulder at Lady Neil. The baroness sat at her vanity, her eyes locked on Violet through the mirror, but her expression remained unreadable.
For a shocking moment Violet almost protested. But when Lady Neil tilted her head as if waiting for Violet’s argument, she knew she must accept this order just like any other.
With a tight smile, Violet nodded and left the room.
Violet had always enjoyed the small town just outside of Gatherford Park’s grand estate. She made her way here a few times a month depending on Lady Neil’s needs. The friendly townspeople had welcomed the new mistress of Gatherford Park—and Violet—with joy.
She was nearly thrilled to see it today as the carriage finally came to the town entrance and Violet’s eyes drifted over the old stone buildings where she purchased fabrics, trimmings, cosmetics, stationary, and the occasional candy for Lady Neil.
As soon as the horses came to a standstill Violet lowered herself out of the carriage. She could not stand to sit next to Owen a moment longer with nothing but silence and an uncomfortable air between them.
She wanted everything between them to return to how they had been just the day before yesterday. Before Lord Neil suggested she publish her poetry, before Frank had received that letter from Charlie, before Owen had told her that she lived a small, safe life.
But Violet did not know if anything could ever return to its former state, no matter how badly she wished it.
For now, she had to get through this outing with everything on her list and without crumbling under the pressure of everything going sour in her life all at once.
“The walkways are icy, Miss Davies. You should have waited for me to help you down.” Owen came around to her side of the carriage after securing the horses to a post. She could hear the concern under his voice beneath the veneer of distant civility.
“Thank you, Captain Jessup, but I am quite alright. I know how to stand on my own two legs.”
Violet turned to head down the street to their first destination, but not before she saw Owen’s small frown and Andrew’s wide-eyed surprise. It must have seemed exceedingly unusual to the footman that Violet should speak so callously to one of their guests.
Andrew had no way of knowing—and Violet had no way of explaining—their actual relationship. She had all she could do to manage her feelings about Owen tampering in her life and Frank’s ill-advised plans to help Charlie.
“Miss Davies, Lady Neil mentioned she has a favorite ice shop in town. Are we near it?” he asked politely, his eyes taking in the town and the nearby buildings—taking in everything but her.
Violet
slowed her brisk walk and pointed to the storefront in question across the street. "It’s just there. Lady Neil treated me to an ice from there just before we left Gatherford Park for the London house. It is not quite like Gunter’s but it will do.” She tried to keep her voice steady and equally polite.
Owen drew up to her side and despite the conflict within her, Violet’s heart fluttered at his approach. If there was one thing she loved more than having him by her side at all times, it was the feeling she got when he entered a room or came near.
It took all her willpower not to thread her arm through his as they walked down the street just like any other couple.
But Violet knew they were not like those people. Perhaps they never would be.
As she, Owen, and Andrew made their way through the town, picking up the odds and ends on the household shopping list, Violet continued her efforts to remain cordial to the captain.
But it was difficult to convey any subtle sentiment with an oblivious footman around. Violet did not miss the way the poor young man’s eyes darted between them, confusion and curiosity momentarily revealing themselves, though he did not pry. Violet vowed to put in a good word for him with Mr. Taylor when they returned.
All through their errands, Owen remained perfectly polite, nodding at Violet’s observations and occasionally answering her in a pleasant tone. But Violet could see through it all. He sought to keep things professional between them.
He smiled, but it never warmed his eyes. In fact, if Violet could put a word to the atmosphere surrounding him, it would be melancholy.
Some fabric caught Violet’s eye as she paused at a shop window displaying pretty new bonnets.
“How lovely. Perhaps I can try recreating them back at home...” Violet muttered to herself, momentarily forgetting her troubles as her eyes scanned the bonnets, soaking in as much information about the fabric, fit, pattern, and color as she could so she might pull them out of her memory later.
“Lovely indeed,” Owen agreed in his pleasant but forced manner. “I should very much like to see this one on...Lady Neil.” He coughed as he finished his statement and quickly looked away from the shop window, away from Violet’s eyes reflected in the glass.
Violet looked closer at the bonnet and frowned. She knew Owen had meant to name her and not Lady Neil, but he continued to hold himself back from such statements that would have been natural to both of them just a few days ago. Instead, Violet could only agree that the bonnet would indeed suit Lady Neil very well.
Their next stop was the bookshop, where Lady Neil had had a special gift created for Lord Neil for his upcoming birthday.
“Ah, Miss Davies! I haven’t seen you around here in some time.” The old shopkeeper, Mr. Grant, greeted Violet warmly, his smile broad with surprise.
“I’m terribly sorry I’ve stayed away. Her Ladyship has been in special need of me since the little one was born.” Violet returned his smile and made her way down the aisles of books to the counter.
“Always so dedicated to the baroness and her family. It may be bold of me to say so, but I do believe Lady Neil hit the jackpot when she chose you for her lady’s maid.” Mr. Grant winked at Violet as he rustled around behind his counter and produced a thick package wrapped in brown paper.
Violet smiled at the compliment but she could never resist the urge to correct it. “Thank you, Mr. Grant, but it is quite the opposite. I am the one who hit the jackpot.”
The shopkeeper scoffed and his eyes connected with Owen’s, who had followed Violet through the store. Mr. Grant shot an exasperated expression to the captain and Violet felt rather than heard him chuckle in response. She sighed as Mr. Grant placed the heavy package on top of the other boxes Andrew carried. She must be boring everyone with her insistence on this matter.
Violet thanked Mr. Grant on Lady Neil’s behalf but did not leave the store right away. Instead she browsed around one of the far shelves that held trinkets and baubles as she usually did when she paid the bookshop a visit. Mr. Grant always had some new figurine or snuffbox or brooch on his shelf of non-book goods.
Though they were usually small bits and pieces the shopkeeper had picked up here and there, they were often above her personal budget. But still, Violet enjoyed looking and brushing her fingers over the items.
A small hand mirror caught Violet’s attention and she picked it up, turning it this way and that and watching the way the sunlight from the street glimmered off its silver back. When she turned the mirror toward her to examine her reflection, she noticed a large figure quickly walk out of view.
Owen ducked behind the nearest bookcase when he realized that Violet had seen him watching her. But despite his usual agility and self-proclaimed love of speed, he was not fast enough to keep Violet from noticing the sadness in his eyes.
He quietly made his way to the door of the shop and Violet quickly followed, calling out her thanks to Mr. Grant once more as she emerged back onto the street.
As she caught up, she observed Andrew say something to Owen as he adjusted his grip on the several boxes and packages he now carried. Owen glanced back to Violet and reached his arms out to the footman, likely offering to take some of the load. But Andrew smiled gratefully and turned away, walking in the direction of their carriage.
Violet hurried, her footsteps clicking against the pavement. She planted herself by Owen’s side before he could find himself another excuse to avoid her. She could no longer tolerate this forced distance that they had both been maintaining.
“Owen, please tell me what bothers you. If this is about yester—” Violet whispered urgently, reaching out a hand to touch his arm when she was sure no one was nearby. But he pulled his arm away and stepped back, surprising Violet into silence.
She stared up into his eyes and watched as his sadness and regret submerged beneath neutrality. She watched as he closed himself off from her.
Violet pursed her lips together. She knew she had been pushing him away right from the start. Even after they had become closer than she could have possibly hoped for with their kiss in the drawing room, Violet had not gone out of her way to find time for Owen in her schedule. Though she missed him desperately, her fear had held her back. And though she had thought her reaction yesterday to his talk with the baron and his well-intentioned encouragement had been caused by pride, Violet saw it for what it really was now.
Fear. It all came back to fear.
And now her fear had pushed Owen even further, possibly for good. And she so hated to see the pain in his eyes. He tried to mask it, but Violet saw through the façade. He mumbled something about being perfectly fine and began to walk back to the carriage.
“Owen, wait. Tell me, please. Are you well?” Violet hurried behind him, keeping as close as she dared without irritating Owen and arousing curiosity amongst the other townspeople who were out and about.
He stopped so suddenly that she nearly bumped into this arm. He turned to look at her, his face grave.
“I did tell you. I am perfectly fine. I’ve just been thinking that our time here is coming to an end—myself and the lieutenant, I mean. The last time Dr. Slaterly visited he gave Davies permission for long distance travel.”
Violet’s heart plummeted and her ears felt as though they were stuffed with cotton. She could no longer hear the sounds of the small but active town. She could only hear Owen’s words echoing again and again as she stared at him in silence for a moment.
How could she have allowed herself to forget that Owen and Frank were not permanent residents at Gatherford Park? Surely they would want to leave someday. Violet just hadn’t thought that day would be anytime soon. She had grown so used to both of them in the house that she could hardly imagine it without them now—without Owen’s inviting smile and warm eyes and contagious laugh.
“Do you really want to go?” She whispered, her throat tight and dry, the question scraping against her as she forced it out.
Owen nodded solemnly. “Yes, we should. Davies wishes to
meet with your other brother and I think I should accompany him to ensure the meeting goes well. We cannot know what kind of state, mental or otherwise, that man is in. And Davies is still far from his usual abilities.”
Violet’s heart dropped even further. She imagined it must be somewhere far beneath the earth’s crust by now. Charlie could steal not just Frank from her but Owen as well. But Violet knew immediately that that was not the case. Owen would not distance himself from her like this if that was the only reason he wished to leave. This was one heartache she could not blame on anyone else.
Her eyes dropped to her feet, all her power and energy to rectify the situation suddenly drained. Even when Owen’s hands came into her view, grasping her own, Violet could feel nothing but dread. Once, this touch would have sent a thrill of happiness through her. It no longer carried possibility, visions of a new life they could share together. Now it carried finality and the crumbling of what little time they’d managed to steal.
“Violet.... This is for the best. I think my presence will only cause you harm and suffering, if not now then at some point in the future. But I do hope that your brother and I will visit again soon. Perhaps then we will have clearer minds and hearts.”
“Will you change your mind even if I argue?” Violet fought to keep her voice steady, a monumental feat given the way Owen’s thumbs brushed over the backs of her hands and the way his gaze pierced her.
“I already know what you will say. For now let us return to the carriage and make our way home—to Gatherford Park, I mean.”
Owen let go of Violet’s hands and they fell limply against her dress. He turned away from her, his shoulders slumped slightly and his footsteps falling heavily on the pavement.
Violet could only follow behind, her head low as she realized that she had run out of time and done nothing to extend it. She'd known for weeks that their time was running out. She just didn’t realize how quickly until it was too late.
Healing the Captain's Heart: A Clean Regency Romance (Resolved In Love Book 2) Page 18