Shunned No More

by Christina McKnight

  # # #

  The corridors of Foldger’s Hall were deserted at this hour. It was too early for cleaning, too late for stoking the fires. Viola’s luck couldn’t have been better as she raced up the stairs and down various halls to the wing she shared with her nearest and dearest friend, Miss Ruby St. Augustin.

  Vi rounded the last corner and continued past her door to the room next to her own. Sliding to a stop, her booted foot caught on the rug and she nearly knocked over a vase full of flowers on a hall table. She grasped the vase when it tilted precariously, water splashing over the thin, delicate rim, to steady it.

  Damn boots! Why did she have to wear the ugly things? She’d spent the previous evening assembling a suitably appalling outfit so as not to draw undue attention to herself. These boots, belonging to one of the maids who delivered coal to her room, had been the final touch. Besides, Vi had sought a way to replace the girl’s old, worn-out boots without wounding her pride. Countless times, the hardworking maid had declined Vi’s gift of a new bonnet or warm woolen socks.

  The door opened before she could knock.

  “Viola! I expected you to already be at the stables. I was readying myself to depart in that direction.” Ruby blocked Vi’s entrance with her tall, regal frame.

  Vi pushed past her, not giving the other woman a chance to leave. “I fear it is not safe for either of us to be there at the moment.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” Ruby turned a suspicious eye to her. “You look piqued. Do sit down and tell me what is going on.”

  How much to tell her? Ruby had been her companion and dearest friend for going on seven years now. If there was anyone who knew all Vi’s secrets, it was Ruby. Was it fair to burden her friend with her newest predicament, or would it only worry the girl needlessly? She perched on the edge of Ruby’s bed, not wanting to mess up her lovely quilt with her dirty attire. “I ran the whole way back.”

  “You? Run?”

  “Surely I am capable of a little exertion when the need arises.” Viola tried unsuccessfully to curb the defensive tilt of her words.

  “You have yet to tell me how the need arose.”

  “He is back!”

  “'He' who?” Ruby asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

  “Lord Haversham!”

  “Lord Haversham passed on over three months ago. My mother wrote me about the sad news in her latest letter. You must be mistaken.”

  “Not the old Lord Haversham . . . the new Lord Haversham!”

  “Brock Haversham has returned from service? Oh, dear!”

  “Oh, dear is right.”

  “You must calm down. What do you mean by, ‘he is back’?” Ruby asked. “I was unaware that the two of you had met.”

  “We had not met before yesterday. He arrived, unannounced, to inquire into Foldger’s Foals. He had the audacity to barge into my office and demand to know how a woman came to own a stable.” Vi fell back onto the quilt, her concerns about soiling the delicate cover forgotten.

  “While I have not been in his presence in over fifteen years, that does sound like him. Why did you not tell me at last meal yesterday?” Ruby’s bottom lip jutted out sullenly.

  Ruby had known the Havershams as children, Vi recalled. Of course she would know the eldest brother.

  “I was quite preoccupied,” Vi said to soothe her friend’s hurt feelings. “I completed all the paperwork for the sale of eight foals and put together this outfit, in the event he demanded to see me.”

  “Where did you acquire such a hideous dress?”

  “I borrowed it from Cook, and Sarah altered it to fit.”

  “And those boots? Good gracious, they must be three sizes too large.”

  “Daphne was wearing them this morning. She was more than willing to trade them for a pair of kid gloves and enough coin to buy a new pair of boots in town,” Vi continued as she sat forward on the bed to remove the loathsome boots.

  “The upstairs maid? Whatever will she do with kid gloves?”

  “I care not what she does with them.”

  “I assume Lord Haversham departed as soon as he found out who you are, so why is it unsafe for us to attend our tasks at the stables?”

  “Do you think me mad?” Vi said.

  “Sometimes—”

  “Ruby St. Augustin, I will have you know that I—we—have worked too arduously to have our livelihood, and that of so many others, collapse over a chance meeting between myself and a member of the ton.”

  “Then do tell how you managed to acquire a sale from the very man who has all the right to despise your very existence.” Ruby's booted toe tapped a rapid rhythm, a severe expression darkening her normally serene face.

  “I did what any person in my shoes—err,” she looked down, “. . . boots would do. I told him my name is Lady Posey Hale.”

  “Lady Posey Hale? Wherever did you come up with such a name?”

  “That does not matter. What matters is that I never lay eyes on the man again!”

  “Is he as handsome as I remember?”

  “While I do not know how handsome he was, he does cut a very dashing figure presently,” Vi admitted reluctantly. Her hands rose to cover her cheeks, sure they had returned to their crimson color from a few minutes before.

  “Maybe we should sneak over to the stables so I can have a peek.”

  “We most certainly will not sneak back to the stables, until Connor has come to assure me that no danger remains.”

  “That is very wise,” Ruby admitted. “It wouldn’t do to have your name circling around the gossip mills again.” She retreated into the room and sat at her writing desk. “Mother has not written of Brock’s return to Kent. I wonder if I should write of it. It would be very nice to inform my mother of something before she is aware.”

  “She is most likely in London this time of the season.” Viola had long wondered about the relationship between Ruby and her mother. Mostly, why she insisted on Ruby attending Vi for all these years instead of acquiring a suitable match in London. If her dear friend wondered the same, she’d never mentioned anything to her. “Maybe she will send for you this year.”

  “I gave up hope on that long ago, Vi. Besides which, I must stay here and make sure you do not get yourself into another unfortunate situation.”

  It had been many years since Vi’s one and only ‘unfortunate situation.’ Although her father seemed to believe she’d find herself in another one if left to her own devices. “You cannot think I would put myself in a situation like that again.”

  Ruby raised a brow in question.

  “Well, I did not seek out this current predicament, as you well know, and stop looking at me thus.” Vi stood from the bed and walked to the fireplace and back. She felt caged in her own home, helpless to rectify her current debacle.

  “He will leave shortly and not return, correct?”

  “Yes. Connor offered to deliver the foal to his country estate when I deem them ready.” The thought of not seeing him again should have soothed her discomfort, but a prick of disappointment flared instead.

  “Then you truly are not in any type of situation. He will leave and we will stay here. That he has returned to England means naught to us,” Ruby said. She rubbed her hands together as if removing any dirt that clung, and showed her clean hands to Vi. “And it will give Connor the excuse to stop in London for you. How long has it been since you received a letter from Mrs. Hutton?”

  Vi thought for a moment. How long had it been? “A few months, I suppose.”

  “Then it will be wise for Connor to stop in and check on her and the children,” Ruby said. “It cannot be too far out of the way for him.”

  “I have a much smaller donation this quarter, I fear.”

  “Do you truly believe the children care how much you are able to send?”

  Vi wished she could send more, do more for them all, but with business slowing recently she would be limited in her contributions to the orphanage for the time being. “
I guess not.” Although, Lord Haversham’s purchase certainly would add to the amount.

  “When will Connor be departing with the foals? I have a few scarves and mended coats to send with him.”

  The sooner the better, as far as she was concerned.

  Yes, the problem would depart shortly and they would return to business, as usual. Viola had no plans to return to polite society, even if they’d accept her back, so there was nothing to fear.

  “Ruby, thank you ever so much.” Vi worked to suppress the emotions bubbling just below the surface of her ever-composed countenance.

  “Whatever for?”

  “For being here after so many have forsaken me.” A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly dashed it away. It would do no good crying over her past mistakes. She’d tried that route, and it had solved nothing. It was better to accept her lot in life and make the best of it.

  “Now, Lady Viola Oberbrook, wipe that grim look off your face and be proud of all you’ve accomplished, while not having to worry about a bunch of pompous nobodies looking over your shoulder. You’ve changed—not a member of the ton would even recognize you now.”

  Vi didn’t know if she believed Ruby’s words, but she hoped they were true.