Haunting Violet (4 page)

CHAPTER 3

V
iolet?” 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 needed 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.