Flora allowed herself to be thrust out of her chair, but shook Tony off as they crossed the dance floor. She noticed Violet lingering at the staff entrance opposite, having witnessed the whole exchange. Defiantly, she gave Violet a broad smile, then held her head high as Tony marched her out.
* * *
They were outside her bedroom door before he said a word, and by then Flora had had time to regret speaking so sharply to Sweetie in front of all their friends.
“Really, Flora,” Tony admonished, but gently. “Sweetie is one of my oldest friends.”
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” she said, “but even you must admit he goes on with such rude nonsense. It’s not fit for a table full of well-bred ladies, and it’s cruel in the extreme to lower people like waiters and waitresses, who dare not speak up for themselves. I won’t tolerate it anymore. Speak to him and get him to stop it.” Her heart thudded a little in her chest, but she was glad she’d said her piece.
“I can’t stop him doing anything,” Tony said.
“Yes, you can. He hangs off you. They all do. He’s still here, for goodness’ sake. He could have gone back to Sydney, but he worships the ground you walk on. The level of behavior you overlook is the level of behavior you condone. I should hate to think I am marrying a man who would turn a blind eye to such incivility.”
Tony drew his eyebrows down, and Flora felt a tiny note of alarm touch her heart. But then his anger seemed to melt away, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, and his mouth turned up as though fighting a smile. Then he started to laugh.
She was too bewildered to join him.
“Oh, Florrie, you are fierce. How I love you.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and then moved his lips to her mouth.
She breathed out. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Sweetie’s face,” he said, “was priceless. I don’t think he expected in a million years you would speak to him like that. Yes, he had it coming. But please, please don’t do it again.”
“You’ll talk to him?”
“I will talk to him. I will make sure he behaves in your company, and in the company of the other ladies.”
“Thank you, my dear.” She kissed his cheek and turned to unlock her door, but he grasped her wrist.
“May I come in?” he said, and the question seemed heavy with intent.
Flora considered his request. He had asked before, of course, and she had always said no. But at this moment she felt very close to him, her blood was warm and her spirits high. “You can come in for a little while,” she said, equally layering her words with hidden meaning. “Understand?”
He smiled and nodded. She unlocked the door and they went inside.
She switched on the lamp next to her bed and stood in the center of the room, not sure what to do. Tony put his hands around her hips and pulled her close against him.
“Let me kiss you. Really kiss you,” he said.
She offered up her face, and his lips descended hungrily, his tongue darting into her mouth. Liquid heat moved in her groin. She told herself to relax as his hands moved and cupped her buttocks through her skirt, pressing her against him. These were all things he had done before, when she let him.
“Can we lie down?” he asked, close to her ear.
Wordlessly she nodded, and he led her to the bed. He laid her on her back and settled beside her, kissing her fiercely, stroking her hair, running his lips along her neck. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensation. There was something wonderful about being appreciated in this way by a man—a handsome, powerful man like Tony. Of course, Tony had appreciated other women this way, too, and the thought made her sad. Wouldn’t it be nicer to be the only one a man had ever been with? She wondered if Will Dalloway would find her as attractive as Tony did.
Her eyes flew open. Where did that thought come from?
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked, propping himself up on his elbow.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You went stiff.”
“Oh. No, I’m fine. Just . . . you know I have trouble relaxing when we . . .”
“You like it, though, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
He teasingly moved his hand onto the curve of her waist, running it up over her hip. “You like that?”
She smiled, nodded.
“You have a beautiful shape, Florrie. Miss Sydney, our beauty queen, is shaped like a pencil. I know it’s the fashion to be thin, but women should have hips and bottoms. And breasts.” His hand crept up towards her breast.
She pushed it away. “Fresh,” she said gently, smiling.
“You’ll like it. I promise you.”
She closed her eyes. “What I didn’t see didn’t happen.” Her skin prickled in anticipation. She had never let him caress her breasts before.
His warm hand moved smoothly up over her ribs and closed over her left breast. Her heart sped. She tried to be in the moment, and not think of how many other women Tony had done this to. He loves me. He loves my shape. Once again, she found herself thinking of Will, if he liked women with hips and bottoms and breasts.
Tony’s hand disappeared, then reappeared at the hem of her blouse, pulling it loose and creeping up over her stays. “You are a long way beneath the surface,” he remarked. “I want to touch your skin.”
Boldly, she sat up and pulled her blouse over her head, then lay back down. Closed her eyes. “This and no more,” she said.
He undid the first few hooks on the front of her stays and slid his hand inside. The thought of him touching her there was almost as thrilling as the touch itself. He molded her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she gasped involuntarily.
“I told you you’d like it,” he murmured.
She sat up, brushed his hand away. “Enough,” she said.
He laughed. “Too much?”
“Too . . .” She couldn’t think of the word. All she knew was that she felt a strong tickling urge between her legs that she’d never felt before, and she was afraid that one more moment of Tony’s touch would make her say yes to anything.
“We’ll be married in a few months anyway,” he said. “It’s snowing outside and so warm in here. You and me, curled up together, in love. Why not let me stay?”
“Because that’s not how I was raised.”
He shrugged, then he kissed her cheek. “You are beautiful, you know, in your own way.”
“And you are handsome, in a way everyone can see,” she said. “But that’s not why I love you.”
He rose as she pulled her blouse back on. “I’ll have you eventually,” he said.
“Yes, you will. But not now.” She deliberately made herself think of Tony with those other awful women, to pour cold water on her warm desire.
He left and she went to her window to watch the snow fall. So much snow. Hours upon hours of it. Surely it would clear overnight. This was Australia, not Switzerland. She would have thought snow rare, though she supposed she didn’t know all that much about mountain weather. The lights of the hotel lit up the flurries. Beyond them were dark streets. Now she let herself think of Will. She wondered if he was standing by the window of his room, too, watching the snow fall out of the night sky. She let herself imagine that he was, and the thought made her smile.
But then she told herself that was enough nonsense, and turned to get ready for bed.
* * *
Violet woke to a cold that the small radiator simply couldn’t keep away. Her window, small and dim at the best of times, was completely covered by snow. She curled herself into a ball under the blankets, hanging on to the last sweet scrap of sleep, where she was warm and her future unfolded with calm ease. The last thing she wanted to do was get up for the breakfast shift. But then she remembered that the kitchen would be roaring with warmth and good smells, and she threw back the covers. She went to the bathroom to wash and dress, then headed upstairs.
Miss Zander was in the kitchen, which
was uncommon. Usually she let the cooks and waitstaff be, but then Violet realized she was in urgent discussions with Hansel.
“What’s happening?” Violet said, sidling up to Cook.
“The flying fox is stuck down in the valley. They think the snow is blocking the cable hoops.”
Miss Zander turned and saw Violet, gave her a smile. “I wonder if your friend Mr. Betts is up to working in the snow,” she said. “We’ll need that fixed or we’ll have nothing to eat!”
“Does it always snow this much?” Violet asked.
Miss Zander shook her head. “Violet, it never snows this much. Or it hasn’t in forty-eight years. We had sixteen inches of it overnight. If it doesn’t stop today, the roads will be impassable. If the winds turn southerly, we’re going to have a storm on our hands.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I lived at Evergreen Falls the last time it snowed like this. I was only six, but I still remember the storm that came that afternoon.” Miss Zander’s face looked pinched. It was the first time Violet had seen her look anything less than perfectly in control.
Violet shivered, and moved to the kitchen table that had been pulled up close to the fire. Cook put a plate of bacon next to her. “Eat up,” he said. “The radiator’s busted in the staff dining room, so we’re going to have to eat in the kitchen till it’s fixed.”
Eating was the last thing she felt like doing, but she picked at some bacon anyway. There was a baby inside her now, trying to grow, and she was responsible for it.
Clive came in, fetched by the last of the bellhops, and discussed with Miss Zander the best way to go about getting the flying fox moving. After Miss Zander bustled away, Clive sat down.
“Morning,” he said, reaching for the bacon.
“Are you sure it’s safe, fixing the flying fox in this weather?”
“Of course it is. Just a bit cold.” He forced a smile. “Not worrying about me, are you, Violet?”
She looked at her plate. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” she said. She wondered what Clive would think if he knew how much trouble she was in.
“Your concern is very sweet. I’ll be fine. If I can get the cable moving at this end, it will shift all the snow off along the entire length. I think it’s just that the pulley wheels are frozen and need oiling.”
“Well,” she said, not meeting his eye, “do be safe.”
The kitchen grew busier as the day started, but there was a subdued feeling about. At first Violet didn’t notice it, so involved with her own ruminations was she. But after breakfast she realized the staff were dragging their feet, continually going to the windows to look out at the slate-gray sky and the constantly falling snow. Clive came in, having been unable to move the flying fox more than a few feet. He shook snow out of his hair and off his gloves, his cheeks red and his eyes wild. “I’ve never felt anything like it,” he said.
By three o’clock they heard that the roads were closed. Miss Zander gathered them in the kitchen and announced that anyone who wanted to head out of the mountains and down to Sydney should pack immediately and leave on the five o’clock train.
“Are you going?” Clive asked Violet.
She shook her head. How could she go back to Mama in this state? Besides, how could she bear to be apart from Sam? It would happen, but not yet. Not yet.
A flurry of activity followed. Bags were hurriedly packed and rooms left in disarray. By that evening, the only staff left were Miss Zander, Cook, Clive, and Violet.
“How will we manage?” Violet asked.
“Oh, we’ll manage, my dear,” Miss Zander said. “We’ve lost Miss Sydney and Mrs. Wright, too. Four staff is ample for six guests. In any case, it’s only in the short term. The snow will ease and the roads will open again, and they’ll all be back. But I can’t keep them up here in the freezing cold when there’s a chance we’ll be cut off, especially with the flying fox out of action.”
Violet went to the kitchen sink and leaned on the cold porcelain, gazing out the window. Dark fell and the snow continued, pouring out of the sky white and soft and relentless.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A round midnight, the wind changed direction and howled over the hotel. Violet woke at the noise, then slept fitfully thereafter, as internal doors banged and windows rattled and the cold penetrated through any crack it could find.
She didn’t know how long it had been—perhaps three or four hours—when a thundering crash woke her with a start. Instinctively, she curled into a ball under her covers as the noise went on. The wind seemed to have redoubled its force. Her heart sped, and she was now far too frightened to go back to sleep. If only Sam had come to her tonight. Pressed against his body, nothing would seem so bad.
Violet threw back the covers and pulled on her dressing gown. Maybe if she crept up to his room, like she used to do, the fear would ease.
She was emerging from the staircase to the staff quarters when she saw a light bobbing in the dark across the foyer. She paused, waiting, and a moment later Miss Zander’s silhouette emerged.
“Violet!” she said coolly. “Good, you’re here. I need you to wake all the guests and get them to assemble immediately in the ballroom.”
“What? Why?”
Another huge gust shrieked over them, and Miss Zander clutched at Violet’s arm protectively. As it passed, she thrust Violet gently away. “Go. Take this lamp,” she said. “Part of the roof on the east wing has fallen in. Our electricity has been cut, and so has our phone. The ballroom has the domed roof. It’s the safest place for us all to be until this storm passes.”
Violet nodded, and headed up the stairs with the hurricane lamp. She would be waking Sam after all, but there was no need for secrecy. No time for embraces.
The ladies’ floor was first, and she knocked hard on Flora’s door. “Excuse me. Wake up, ma’am. It’s an emergency.”
The door opened a second later. “Violet?”
“Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” Violet said, embarrassed to be standing in front of Sam’s sister in her champagne-colored silk dressing gown.
“As if I could sleep. What’s going on?”
“We’re all to assemble in the ballroom. There’s been a roof collapse on the other wing. The safest place is under the dome.”
“Of course, of course. Do I have time to dress?” Another immense gust. Flora shook her head. “I think I’ll just go as I am. Here, you go up to tell the Powells, and I’ll fetch Sam, Tony, and Sweetie. That will save some time.”
“Thank you, Miss Honeychurch-Black.”
“Flora,” Flora said. “Please, call me Flora. Our surname’s rather a mouthful.”
Violet smiled at her, and Flora returned her smile in the shifting light of the lamp flame. Then Violet hurried off upstairs to wake Lord and Lady Powell.
By the time she came back down to the ballroom, Miss Zander had illuminated the room with half-a-dozen hurricane lamps, had the fire burning in the grate, and had piled up pillows and blankets by the fire.
“Come in, come in,” she said to Violet, who was hesitating a few steps behind the Powells. “No standing on ceremony tonight. Staff and guests all together. Safety first. See, our handyman and cook are already here.”
Violet looked around for Sam, who sat on a pillow by the fire gazing intently at her. When their eyes met, he gave her a weak smile. Her ribs contracted, and it occurred to her very brightly that love was actually a kind of pain that one didn’t feel at first through the euphoria. She acknowledged him with a nod, then went to sit by Miss Zander, who sat at one of the dining tables with a sheet of paper and pen and looked elegant even in a thick wool dressing gown.
“We’ll need to do some rearranging, Violet,” she said. “The boys from the east wing will have to be moved.”
Violet glanced up and saw Clive and Cook huddled together, chatting by the room dividers.
“With roads and rail out, our flying fox almost certainly disabled, no phone and no electricity,
we can expect it to be a long time before somebody can come and look at the roof over there. Wonderful as Clive is, I think it’s a bigger job than he can manage himself. So, I’m going to move the male staff into the female staff quarters, and I’m going to move you up to the ladies’ floor. I’ve already spoken to Miss Honeychurch-Black, who’s the only woman up there now, and she has no problem sharing the floor with you. You will take the east bathroom and she the west, so you’ll likely rarely see each other. I’ll move my own things up on the top floor next to the Powells.” She made lists as she spoke. “The gas appears to be working still, so we can cook and heat the rooms.” Miss Zander stopped for a moment, put down her pen, and sneezed loudly. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said. “The last thing I need is to get sick. Violet, feel my forehead. Do I feel warm to you? I’ve been feeling congested and woolly all day.”
Violet pressed her palm over Miss Zander’s brow. She was on fire. “You’re very hot,” Violet said. “You should go and lie down. I can take care of things here.”
“No, I’ll simply will it away,” Miss Zander harrumphed.
Violet grew insistent. “You’ll make yourself sicker if you don’t rest.”
“How inconvenient,” she said. “And Will Dalloway may as well be a million miles away. Even if it stops snowing tomorrow, the route between here and there will be impassable. Perhaps in the morning, when the storm’s over, I can get Clive to go over to Karl’s offices and see if there’s any medicine there for a fever.” She sneezed again. “Good grief, the timing.”
Violet smiled at her. “I’ll set you up a little bed on the floor.”
“No, and I mean no. I can’t have them all seeing me lying down looking ill. I am the only person here who won’t lie down. When Eugenia Zander collapses, so does the whole hotel. I’ll just put my head down on the table for a little while. Would you be a dear and make sure everyone is settled? We’ll be safe in here.” Then Miss Zander did just that, laying her head gently on the table and closing her eyes.
As the wind screamed overhead, shaking the windows, Violet went to the guests one by one—including the odious man everyone called Sweetie—to offer them pillows and blankets and cups of tea. Sam took the opportunity to caress her hand softly as she handed him a pillow, but apart from that they neither touched nor spoke. Cook went off to the kitchen to prepare toasted crumpets and tea, and Clive kept the fire stoked. He was wearing a long, maroon wool robe and slippers, and Violet felt a stab of fondness at gaining a small glimpse into the private man he was.
Evergreen Falls Page 26
