Haunting Violet (24 page)

The spirit nodded. In her hands appeared a bowl of blackberries.

“She is showing me blackberries.”

Mrs. Grey laughed through her tears.

“We used to gather them every summer by the lake. When we were younger we'd sneak them home and eat them at midnight, staining the pillowcases.”

There was another hour of questions and peering into the shadows and trying to make sense of cryptic clues. I was beginning to feel fatigued and a little ill. Mother didn't seem to notice; she and Lord Marshall had their heads bent together.

“Anyone missing the family silver?” he joked with what I thought was forced casualness. “Violet here is doing a brilliant job.”

An older woman appeared behind him, only for an instant. She looked disgusted. I liked her instantly, especially when she attempted to smack him on the back of the head. Her voice was still sharp in my ear, even after she faded. I repeated her words. I didn't like Lord Marshall anyway.

“Your wife, Lord Marshall, says that your current mistress is barely seventeen and that she has no intention of letting you spend her family's silver on her.”

There was a shocked gasp, a snort of laughter. Lord Marshall looked down his aquiline nose at me. “I beg your pardon?” he said icily.

Mother glared at me viciously before rising. “That will be all for tonight. Violet, you are looking quite pale. You should retire. This work is quite taxing.”

I smiled wanly. “Good night.” I left as Mother apologized profusely to Lord Marshall.

Colin winked at me as I passed.

I winked back.

When I got to my bedroom, I found a letter under my pillow. Colin must have brought it up for me before Mother got to the post. I hadn't noticed it before. I broke the seal. The paper was thick and when I unfolded it another fluttered to the blanket. I recognized the handwriting first.

Dear Violet,

I am still cross that you lied to me but enclosed is a letter I just received from Tabitha. I hope you didn't lie to me about your own talents.

Elizabeth

P.S. I am trying to find a solution.

P.P.S. But I'm still cross.

The next letter was considerably longer.

Dear Elizabeth,

I hardly know why I am bothering to write. It's clear from that scandalous display at your godfather's house party that Mrs. Willoughby is not a respectable woman. I don't see why her daughter would be any different. I suppose she lied about her gifts too? I ought not to be surprised. I don't believe in that sort of thing anyway. Still, I will admit Violet did give me pause. She knew certain details that had no way of being public knowledge. And that ring … I must be mad to be doing this.

The thing is, Elizabeth, I am frightened. Something isn't right here. I can't think what it is, but I am heartily sick of the lies. They fill up this house like water until I feel I might drown too.

Violet said Rowena was scared for me. I'm scared too. Might you come for a visit? Caroline is peevish all the time, and Uncle is occupied with some work or another.

Yours,

Tabitha Wentworth

CHAPTER 20

T
he next morning I ate breakfast alone with a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets. Mother left early to pick up our photographs from Mr. Hudson, and Marjorie was hiding in the kitchen. I didn't see Colin until I'd finished the pot of tea and was standing up to leave. He seemed taller somehow, older.

And I suddenly didn't know what to say.

He smiled. “Good morning.”

I smiled back. “Good morning.”

This was ridiculous. I wasn't going to become one of those girls who was hopelessly tongue-tied and woolly-headed because of a boy. He might be the boy who had kissed me until I was breathless, but he was also the boy who had once snuck an earthworm into my cucumber salad.

“What did Elizabeth have to say?” he asked, confirming that he had been the one to rescue the letter from Mother's prying eyes. I was grateful for an actual topic of conversation to distract me from his eyes, pale as clouds reflected in a summer lake.

I was getting positively sentimental. It would never do.

“Vi?”

“Sorry.” I snapped back to attention. “She sent me one of Tabitha's letters. They're worried.” I frowned. “So am I. And I still can't think why Mr. Travis was in the graveyard. He's clearly up to no good. What if he …?” I let the thought trail off, fisting my hands. “I don't know what to do about any of it. I can't very well go barging in there.”

He stepped closer, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. “You'll think of something.”

He was near enough that I could smell earth and flowers on his hands, and smoke.

“I'm hardly a detective,” I murmured, turning so that we faced each other fully.

“But you are clever,” he said. “And Rowena chose you for a reason.”

I didn't need to reply as his mouth covered mine, his hands dropping to my waist. My corset seemed suddenly too tight. I kissed him back and we moved, almost as if we were dancing to some music only we could hear, until my back was pressed against the wall. I was glad of the support, my knees suddenly weak. And I was tingling everywhere he touched me, his hands, the press of his legs, his chest against mine.

When the front door opened we leaped apart as if we'd suddenly caught fire.

“Violet,” my mother called out cheerfully. I could hear her removing her hat and gloves. Colin and I locked gazes for a long moment.

“Violet,” she called again, sharper. “Where the devil is that girl?”

“I'm here,” I answered, finally pulling myself away and stepping into the hall. Colin followed me to collect Mother's parcels from the carriage. She looked at us both critically but didn't say anything. I hoped my hair wasn't disheveled or my lips overly pink.

“The town is positively alight with talk of us,” she said finally. “Your demonstration was a rousing success. Everyone is curious to see Lord Thornwood's daughter.” She sniffed. “You think they'd remember that I also gave them the best years of my life.” She unwrapped one of her parcels. “At least your photograph was worth the coin. You look lovely, and more importantly, you're positively glowing with ectoplasm.”

That sounded uncomfortable.

“Mr. Hudson says it's the best he's ever taken. He's hung a copy in his window.”

“There's a photograph of me in his window?”

She nodded smugly. “Think of the exposure.”

I could see the rest of my life unfolding before me: sittings, séances, spirit-board readings, all under the sharp eye of my mother as she charged admission for the privilege. It wouldn't matter to her if the work tired me or made my head ache. It wouldn't matter if I didn't want to be the scandalous bastard daughter of an earl put through her paces like a show pony.

“Why are you looking so cross?” she snapped. “Come and see your picture.”

I swallowed, half afraid to look.

I was wearing my striped periwinkle dress, standing stiffly and unsmiling. The air around me was hazy, as if the room had been filled with smoke, which it hadn't. A translucent miniature schnauzer was at my feet, tongue lolling happily. Mr. Rochester. I smiled to see him. He looked like he was made of moonbeams and dandelion fluff. In the mist behind me were faces, the most prominent of them a girl, her hair streaming water and lily petals.

“Rowena,” I murmured, touching the photo.

“Careful, you'll smudge it.” Mother snatched it back. “I had a second copy made and had a courier take it to Lord Jasper.”

We got a reply the very next morning. I wondered if he'd recognized Rowena even hazy as she was.

Mother read it quickly, already preening. “I knew this would work. Excellent. You see, Lord Jasper has invited you back to Rosefield. He's included a train ticket for you. You'd best impress him quickly,” she added darkly, almost venomously. “I shan't support a grown daughter who is lazy.” She flounced off, calling to Marjorie for tea and jam tarts.

“What was that about?” Colin muttered.

I raised the letter, beautifully written on thick paper. “She wasn't invited. Just me.”

“Good.”

I tapped the letter on the palm of my hand. “This is it, then.”

“Remember,” Mother said, straightening the lace at my collar as the hired hackney waited at the curbside. “This might be your only chance. Don't squander it away with missish behavior. Do what you must.”

It was hardly an encouraging farewell. She hugged me and then turned away, slamming the door shut behind her before I'd even set a foot off the stoop. Colin stood in the shadows between our house and the neighboring one so that he wouldn't be seen. He lifted his hand in a wave.

“Be careful,” he mouthed.

I glanced at the front door. “You too.”

Lord Jasper sent a Mrs. Hartley to accompany me on the train. She nodded at me once and spent the rest of the time with her knitting. She didn't even step out onto the platform when we got there, only nodded one last time and waited to be taken back to London. Lord Jasper's carriage waited for me, with a footman to open the door. Elizabeth was inside, frowning.

“Hello,” I said quietly as the horses began to walk.

She didn't smile. “Hello.”

I chewed my lip. “Elizabeth, you must know how sorry I am.”

“You hurt my feelings.”

“I know. I hardly had a choice though, did I?”

She sighed, grudgingly. “I guess not. Uncle Jasper says this isn't your fault.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised.

“He says it's just like my mother forcing me to go to all those dreadful society teas. Only with you it was much harder.”

My eyes stung. I had hardly expected compassion from that quarter. She grinned suddenly. “Anyway, I'm awful at staying angry.” She flung her arms around me. “And it's been so
dull
without you.” I hugged her back, feeling as if there had been ice in my belly and it was now melting. She settled back against the velvet cushions. “Besides, you've noble blood now, so I can hardly snub you,” she teased.

“Hardly.”

“Was it horrible?” she asked me later as we arrived at Rosefield. The roses were glowing against the sky, bees hovering lazily.

“They threw rotten eggs at our house. And cabbage.”

“Disgusting! Still, did Lord Thornwood invite you to his house? I hear it's very grand, with marble cherub fountains.”

I shook my head. “Earls don't invite their illegitimate daughters for tea, Elizabeth. You know that.”

“Well, they bloody well should.” She scowled. “When we return, let's sneak some of those rotten eggs into his fountain.”

I giggled. “Oh, Elizabeth, I've missed you.”

We stepped out of the dark carriage. Elizabeth gasped. “Oh, Violet! Your eye! Whatever happened?”

“Oh, um, nothing.” My face powder must have smudged on the hot train. “You know how clumsy I am.” The front door opened before she could press me further. “However did you orchestrate this?” I asked to keep her distracted.

“It wasn't me. Lord Jasper got a letter from your mother and sent for you straightaway. He wouldn't even let me see it. He's waiting for you in his library.” My steps faltered. She tugged my elbow. “Don't be a goose. All is forgiven. In fact, you're quite famous now. Even Sir Wentworth has asked after you.”

“Whatever for?”

She shrugged. “Everyone's asking. Since the last séance was so … exciting, no one can talk of anything else.”

“Splendid.” I groaned. A thought curdled my already sour stomach. “The Tretheweys haven't come back too, have they? I thought they quit the house party.”

“They did.”

We stopped in front of the heavy oak doors. Elizabeth knocked cheerfully, never having doubted her welcome anywhere in her entire life.

“Come in.”

“Wait!” I clutched at her hand. “Come with me.”

“Can't.” She grimaced. “Mother's likely missed me by now. She'll want to lecture me some more. She's quite convinced you're a bad influence.”

I wondered if anyone would mind if I crawled under the carpet and refused to come out. She gave me a little shove and I stumbled into the study. Lord Jasper was seated behind an enormous desk cluttered with papers, an inkwell, a clock, and a miniature of his wife. He stood when he saw me, leaning on his silver swan cane.

“Ah, Miss Willoughby, do come in. I suppose it's Miss Morgan though, isn't it?”

“Thank you for inviting me, Lord Jasper,” I said properly and politely. There was a long silence. I finally just dropped into a chair and looked at him miserably through the ringlets at my temples. “I'm sorry,” I said. It occurred to me that I was apparently going to spend most of the day apologizing. “I didn't know how to tell you. Or even if I should.”

He sat down and regarded me solemnly for a long moment, which had me fidgeting. He finally nodded. “I know, Violet. I did think your mother might have the gift, but I was mistaken. It was you all along. I only knew it was someone in your family.”

“What?” I blurted out. “How? You're not angry?”

“I'm not pleased,” he said dryly. “But that is between your mother and me. You're still a girl, Violet. I can hardly hold you responsible for the actions of your elders.” I was so relieved, my eyes blurred. I might have felt as if I was getting off rather easily until he speared me with those pale eyes. “But you are not to lie to me again, Violet. I want to be quite clear on that.”

I nodded, mouth dry. There was a glitter of power about him that had little to do with the fact that he was a wealthy lord of the realm. “Yes, my lord,” I replied quietly.

“Excellent. Shall I have Mrs. Harris make a poultice for your eye?”

“I … fell,” I explained lamely.

“Of course you did. Your mother, I now suspect, does not do well when thwarted.”

I gulped. “Um, pardon me, but how do you know that I'm not lying to you as she did?” I rushed to add, “I'm not.”

He leaned back in his chair. Through the windows behind him I could see Elizabeth and her mother strolling leisurely through the roses. Elizabeth looked right bored.

“My dear girl, you knew about my wife's tea preferences and her reading habits as no one else does, aside from the housekeeper, and I trust her implicitly not to speak of private matters. Besides, you were quite disconcerted with the knowledge, were you not?”

I bit my lip. “Yes.”

“Perfectly normal. As was the headache you suffered afterward, though most are far more gravely ill before the talent comes upon them. And then that photograph, of course.”

I hardly knew what to say.

“You are not the first medium to be surprised with sudden talents. But I can teach you how to control them.”

“What if I just want them to go away?”

“Do you?”

I thought of Mother, of Rowena and the pond. “I don't know.”

“I would advise against ignoring them in any case. Such things seldom fade by lack of attention; instead they tend to grow rather more insistent. Wild, even.”