Haunting Violet

by Alyxandra Harvey

  “It’s beautiful,” I murmured, excited. I wasn’t sure but I thought Mrs. Harris might be trying to smile back.

  “Lovely,” my mother agreed from the sitting room. “Quite suitable.”

  I almost laughed. Our town house was decidedly sparse upstairs in the family rooms where no visitors went. We saved all of the best pieces for the parlor and the dining room, which, admittedly, looked well.

  “Tea will be served shortly in the gardens,” Mrs. Harris announced. “Down the stairs and to your left, next to the conservatory.” Her boot heels clacked all the way down the hall.

  Mother hugged me briefly, smelling of lavender water and sherry. “If we play our cards right, my girl, this week could change our lives.”

  I knew what was behind that look she wore, smug as an alley cat with a bowl of cream. I smiled weakly and went to my room to change into a less-rumpled dress.

  The gardens were immaculate, the flagstones swept clean and the potted flowers clipped neatly down. Women wore silk dresses and pearl brooches; men stood smartly by in their somber suits. Tea was served in china cups. Oil lamps burned on the tables and torches flamed at the edge of the lawns. It was like a fairy garden, and I was the changeling child. I tried not to look as nervous as I felt.

  Mother pinched me. Hard.

  Reverie broken, I curtsied to the guests who had just been introduced. I hadn’t been paying attention and had no idea who they were. Mother sipped her tea demurely after declining an offer of wine or champagne. I ogled the cakes with the thick cream icing and the little sandwiches filled with ham or cucumbers next to bowls of watercress salad.

  “I once fit five of those little egg things in my mouth at once,” someone declared quite proudly from my right.

  I laughed and turned to hug Elizabeth, despite our mothers’ disapproving glances. We should have clasped hands or curtsied, we should have been quiet and polite, but I would have been bereft and adrift in a sea of dull old people without Elizabeth. We had met only a handful of times at various séances and Spiritualist events but had since written dozens of long letters back and forth. She was Lord Jasper’s goddaughter and the most amusing person I’d ever met, not to mention my only true friend, since I wasn’t afforded many opportunities to meet girls my own age. I had never been away to school where girls became fast friends and learned how to pour tea. I couldn’t bear to think of how lonely I might have been without Elizabeth. Even if I did have to keep our secrets from her as well.

  She was still grinning at me over the egg sandwiches. Her plump body had been stuffed into a steel-boned corset by her mother’s maid. She was pretty, in a wholesome, cheerful kind of way. “Have some of the watercress,” she said. “It’s lovely.”

  I knew how watercress was grown in London, in the sewage run off in Camden Place. “No, thank you.”

  “Just as well. I can’t wait another moment.” She took me abruptly by the hand, dragging me into the house. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d decided to have a rest. I’m turning blue as it is.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked as she pulled me through several sitting rooms and down a long corridor. She’d spent enough summers here to know exactly where she was going, but she stopped so suddenly that I crashed into her. She grunted as we stumbled into a tidy room with a massive desk in the center and books lining the walls. This was the only room so far that didn’t smell of roses. It was all ink and brandy.

  “Oh, Lizzie,” I said, drinking in all the books.

  “Yes, yes books,” she said, hardly impressed. “You should see the library. Anyway, who cares about that? Help me!” She spun around, frantically pointing to the back of her corset. “I feel like a bloody breakfast sausage,” she complained. “Untie me, won’t you?”

  I knew the routine. This wasn’t the first time we’d been in this situation—in fact, the very first time I had ever met Elizabeth we had been at a tea dance, where she cornered me under a shadowy decorative palm and begged me to release her from “the dark chains that bound her,” her words exactly. It had taken me a moment to decipher what, precisely, she was asking me to do.

  “Vi, stop daydreaming! I can’t breathe. I’m joining the Rational Dress Society the very moment we are back in London, and I fully intend to leave their pamphlets under Mother’s pillow and tucked into her corsets.” She claimed this in every one of her letters, in spite of, or rather because of, her mother’s vociferous protests. Lady Ashford was petite, barely reaching my shoulder, and still in possession of a decidedly girlish figure. She couldn’t understand how her daughter was plump as a cinnamon bun.

  “Vi!”

  “Sorry.” I hurried to loosen her stays, which required a rather ungenteel position with Elizabeth bending over a settee with the back of her skirts up over her head as I struggled to find my way through layers of lace and petticoats. I would have shed my own corset, if I’d dared.

  “Stop squirming,” I muttered, spitting a silk ribbon out of my mouth.

  “Well, hurry up.” Her voice was muffled. “Have you got it?”

  “Almost.” I pushed aside more fabric. “Your petticoats weigh a blasted stone!”

  “I know!” She wiggled again.

  “Ahem.”

  We both froze at the amused cough.

  CHAPTER 3

  Violet?” Elizabeth’s bottom still tilted up like a sunflower seeking sunlight. “Vi, was that you?”

  I swallowed, trying not to release the giggle welling up in my throat.

  “Whatever are you two doing?” Frederic drawled.

  Elizabeth jumped as if she’d suffered an electric jolt. There was a flurry of panicked movement and my hair became caught in one of the grommets of her corset. Suddenly, my face was pressed up against her backside. She squealed. Then she tugged. My hair pulled at my scalp. She tugged harder. I squeaked, and we both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of lace and ribbons.

  “Bollocks!” Elizabeth hollered.

  “Such language for a debutante,” Frederic murmured.

  Elizabeth’s face was red when I finally freed myself and we pushed ourselves up from where we were sprawled across the rug. “I’m not a debutante yet,” she muttered at him.

  “I can see why.”

  She bit her lip. She had been nursing a tendre for Frederic for over two years, picturing him kissing her hand and declaring his love, while in reality he still thought of her as a child. His father had gone to school with Lord Jasper. Frederic was down from the same school for the week and thought himself quite above us. He was only back for his quarterly allowance. I hated that Elizabeth might suffer a single moment over him.

  “If you must know, we were fixing a tear in her gown.” I’d learned that a brisk tone and no trace whatsoever of a Cockney accent made most people pay attention. I’d practiced elocution and diction for hours every day, along with how to pick a pocket and wash tea so it could be boiled a second time. “Furthermore, a gentleman doesn’t laugh at a lady. And you might help her up, actually.”

  He bowed toward us. “I beg your pardon.” He offered his hand to Elizabeth to help her up. Her eyelashes fluttered. Then he ruined it by speaking. “Up you go, Beth old girl,” he said amiably as he pulled her up. “Oof.”

  She blushed, looking down at her plump self. She nearly missed his wink before he turned and walked away, chuckling to himself. I scrambled to my feet, not waiting for assistance. I counted under my breath, waiting for the expected reaction: one … two … three—

  “Oh, Violet.” She sighed dreamily and right on cue.

  “Oh, Lizzie,” I mimicked, smiling to let her know I was only teasing.

  “Isn’t he utterly divine? Beautiful?”

  “Somehow, I think he’d disagree with that last one.” And not enough with the first.

  “All right,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Handsome then. Do you think he noticed me?”

  “We were sprawled in a heap of twitching limbs and lace at his feet. He would have had to
have been unconscious not to notice us.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I meant, do you think he noticed I’m nearly on the Marriage Mart now?”

  I didn’t know how to reply. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I wasn’t sure Frederic noticed anything other than cards and port. He was twenty years old, after all, and quite wealthy. He was acting exactly as he was expected to.

  Her cheeks were red. “We should return before Mother wonders where we’ve gone off to. Heaven forbid we might be somewhere enjoying ourselves!”

  I pretended not to see her pick up the handkerchief that had fallen out of Frederic’s coat and hide it in one of the pockets in her skirt.

  A knock woke me in the middle of the night.

  I stumbled across the room, nearly tripping on the hem of my nightdress. When I opened my door, Colin stood on the other side. He cocked one eyebrow impatiently.

  “Aren’t you ready?”

  I mumbled something unintelligible through a wide yawn and turned away to find my dressing gown. I knew he was smirking at me without looking. He always smirked at me, ever since we’d moved to a better address and I’d been given proper lady’s dresses to wear.

  I found my slippers and he handed me a covered basket of supplies. We made our way down the hallway as quietly as possible. The standing clock ticked loudly, like a giant insect in the summer woods. It was so late that even the moonlight coming in through the windows was tired and pale. Everyone else was asleep, especially my mother, who claimed she needed to look her best for tomorrow’s entertainments. It didn’t matter as much if I was haggard with fatigue, and it mattered not at all for Colin.

  “Stay on the edge,” Colin advised as we descended the staircase. “The stairs won’t creak that way.”

  I didn’t ask him how he came to know that. I just wanted to get this over and done with and get back to my warm bed. If we were caught, there’d be no redeeming the situation. This part made me so nervous I felt a little ill. Not to mention that Rosefield was such a large manor house, we might wander about the rest of the night and never find the right parlor.

  “Did you know your prince finally arrived?”

  “He’s not my prince,” I snapped. I didn’t know why, but Colin always managed to get a rise out of me. At least he didn’t slip toads in my bed the way he had when we were younger. He’d stopped the morning he woke up with a perfectly placed beetle on his face. If only it had been so easy to stop him from making sarcastic comments about Xavier Trethewey. Colin disliked him for no reason other than he liked to be contrary.

  There was nothing offensive about Xavier, after all. He was kind and well mannered and handsome. And his father was in trade, which mattered to the peerage but mattered not a whit to Mother because he was also wealthy. We were the last people on earth to look down on someone because of their situation. Xavier paid me several compliments and was seeking out my company with enough frequency that Mother had begun to look smug when his name was mentioned.

  Which was never a good sign.

  I was frowning so hard I nearly walked into a potted fern.

  “Pay attention, princess.”

  I would have pinched Colin but he was noticeably out of reach. His blue eyes gleamed knowingly. He opened his mouth to make another quip and then shut it again with a snap. I frowned at him. He grabbed my elbow and hauled me unceremoniously into a miniature jungle of ficus trees and ferns near the stairs. His body wedged against mine. He’d been drinking mint tea; I could smell it on his breath.

  “What are you—” His hand clamped over my mouth. I glared at him and contemplated biting his thumb.

  “Shhh,” he whispered, very quietly, so close I felt his lips brush my earlobe. I suppressed a ticklish sort of shiver.

  Then I heard the footsteps. I froze. Colin nodded grimly. We couldn’t be caught. It would ruin either Mother’s reputation or mine. And we both knew she’d sacrifice mine without a second thought if it meant she could keep accepting invitations to country manor houses. I held my breath. Colin was a solid presence next to me, the warmth of his skin radiating through his thin shirt and my dressing gown. It was suddenly very warm in our little corner, as if we truly were in an exotic jungle full of orchids and tigers. I had to release my breath and for some reason it trembled.

  A man I didn’t recognize came down the corridor. He was very tall and thin, with shadows under his eyes. He looked wretched, muttering to himself. A snifter of brandy dangled from his left hand, spilling drops on the carpet, as he appeared to have forgotten he held it.

  “Please,” he begged out loud, even though he was utterly alone. He couldn’t know we were hiding nearby. I crept an inch closer to Colin just in case. He shifted so his arm curled around me. His hand on my lower back was a distractingly pleasant feeling. “Please come back.”

  I looked away, uncomfortable. I’d never gotten used to seeing such naked grief. I thought it ought to remain private, despite what we did for a living. It was easy, after a while, to sort out the weepers who wanted dramatics and attention and the ones who were broken inside.

  This young man, scarcely older than Colin, was definitely broken inside.

  He passed us without a glance and stumbled up the stairs.

  We waited a moment before hurrying to the drawing room and ducking inside.

  “Do you know who he was?” I whispered, taking a paper packet from the basket. There weren’t many preparations needed for tomorrow, but it was important for us to have a chance to investigate the room for the main event at the end of the week.

  “No,” Colin said. “Must be a guest. A servant wouldn’t help himself to the brandy.”

  “I wonder what’s happened to him.”

  Colin just shrugged. “We should hurry in case he wanders back down.”

  He was right. I emptied out the hairpins and then folded up the packet and slid it neatly under one of the legs of the large round table set in the back corner. With the lace tablecloth fluttering over the mahogany surface, the legs were mostly hidden from view. No one was likely to notice it, and we’d remove it straightaway after we were done.

  “There’s a rug here,” I said, crawling back out and standing up. “That’ll make it easier as well.”

  “Good.” He circled the parlor, looking behind plants and cupboards and paintings. He lifted the cushion off a chair. “This one,” he said, “might do if we need to hide anything. But not for tomorrow.”

  I turned on one heel. “There isn’t anywhere to hide the bellows.”

  He frowned, turning as well. “That’ll be a problem.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “She’ll think of something.”

  “She always does,” he agreed.

  We poked around some more, memorizing the layout and the nooks and secret crannies created by the furniture. The fashion for long tablecloths and hangings on every chair and table helped our cause. I thought of Lord Jasper with his kind face, sitting next to my mother as she shivered and made dramatic pronouncements.

  Colin glanced at me. “All right then?”

  “I suppose. There’s not much else we can do tonight in any case.”

  “Chin up, Violet,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe your prince will take you away from all of this.”

  “Miss Willoughby.” Marjorie opened the door. Her blond hair was caught in a neat bun under a white cap and she was smiling conspiratorially. “Mr. Trethewey is waiting for you in the parlor.”

  It was early for a visit, especially from someone like Xavier. Mostly, his kind slept past noon because they were awake until dawn, dancing in flower-decorated ballrooms. I slept past noon because I was up until all hours reading novels by candlelight. It was a habit no one could break me of, not even my mother.

  I let Marjorie help me into my corset, leaving it looser than Mother liked. She tied hers so tight I wondered how she could eat, let alone breathe. “I suppose Mother’s already told him I’ll be down presently?” I tucked a wayward piece of lace back under my blouse. It n
eeded mending.

  “Yes, miss. And she’s ordered tea and a pot of chocolate. She would like you to hurry.” Marjorie helped me with my buttons. It wasn’t my most fashionable dress, but anyone who called for me at nine o’clock in the bloody morning would have to take what he was given.

  “Thank you, Marjie.” I smiled at her. “I can manage the rest.”

  She bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried off to the rest of her chores.

  Without time to brush my hair, I merely twisted it into a rope and secured it at my nape with a handful of pins. I was stifling another yawn and rushing down the stairs when I nearly bumped into a maidservant carrying a pile of clean linens.

  “Sorry!” I mumbled around a pin I’d yet to put in my hair.

  She ignored me. I stepped out of her way, watching her continue up the landing. Her gaze hadn’t even flickered my way.

  That’s when I noticed I could see right through the hem of her dress, the glow of white from her blouse and pale skin.

  I shivered under a sudden icy draft.

  I really shouldn’t be out of bed so early.

  It clearly wasn’t good for me.

  I was still gaping when Colin frowned up at me through the railing from the checkered marble floor of the front hall. “What you doing, then?”

  “What?” I blinked, forcing my mouth closed.

  “Doesn’t your prince know by now that you’re not a morning person?”

  “Oh, do be quiet.”

  “Are you wearing that?”

  I just stared at him. “Don’t you start,” I muttered, feeling back to my normal self. Nothing like Colin’s smirks to set things back to rights. “This dress isn’t that old.”