by Beth Byers
Her answer belied all of her actual thoughts when she answered, “Always.”
She promised to meet him in the great hall in a few minutes. Beatrice handed Violet her shoes as she ran a brush through her hair, updated her lipstick. She was dressed in one of her more sensible dresses, a navy sailor kind of dress. Violet added woolen stockings instead of silk ones and her second favourite pair of sensible shoes since her first were still drying out. The chill from the earlier drizzle hadn’t quite fled, but warm, dry stockings would help that. She decided upon her knitted wool cape and her cloche.
In minutes, they left the house. She could have lingered, but she wanted this over with even though she had no idea how to convey her feelings. The rain had stopped, but the chill was still present. Violet put her hand on Tomas’s arm but didn’t let him pull her close. The angle of her body was all attention without the intimacy he was trying to create. The problem, of course, was that they knew each other far too well for that.
He noted her position, the slight stiffness when he tried to pull her closer, and a frown crossed his face. “He’s not here.”
Violet blinked. She had no idea who he was talking about. Then she remembered that Theodophilus Smythe-Hill had been on the ship returning to England with the rest of them. What had happened? Had Victor done something that prevented his arrival at Tomas’s home? Violet was suddenly certain that her twin had done just that.
She licked her lips quickly and let Tomas pull her a little closer. The shock of what must have happened had loosened her defenses.
“I wish you would tell me,” he started.
She shook her head.
“Why?” He was nearly desperate.
Violet decided that enough was enough. Maybe she needed to stop being kind.
“Tomas,” she said, and he started to answer, but she cut him off. “I can’t let you take care of me.”
“Why?” Tomas demanded. “What is so wrong with that? Haven’t we cared for each other since we were children?” He stopped and took her gently by the shoulders. Did he know how he was echoing Theodophilus on that dark day? Both men wanted something from her she had no desire to give. “Why is it so wrong to want to protect you?”
“You know why. You want me to let you take care of me.”
“And is that so bad?” He sounded hurt, and she felt guilty for it. The guilt caused by his feelings was chased by her own anger.
“Yes!” Violet said hotly. Theo had wanted something she didn’t want to give. Tomas wanted the same. Neither seemed willing to accept her ‘no.’
She pulled away. The difference between the men was vast, but too narrow for her at the moment. She shook her head, reminding herself that Tomas was her lifelong friend. When she spoke, it was gently. “If you wanted to protect and love me as another brother, I would tell you everything. I would do that because I love you and trust you like I do my brothers. Tomas, I know you are going to propose.”
He didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched and his familiar, handsome face was both hurt and angry.
“I wish I could tell you that I loved you the way that you want me to.”
He started to speak.
Violet held up a hand and continued, “But I don’t, and to be honest, when you asked when we were young blighters, I thought it was all a joke. I am tired of this tension between us. I’m tired of people assuming that because I am female, I don’t know what I want. I do know what I want. The only people who give me the credit of knowing my own mind are Victor and—to my endless surprise—Father.”
“Vi…” Tomas cupped her cheek as he stared at her. “Why won’t you let me try? Why won’t you try back? Am I so repellant?”
She stepped back. “When I lost Aunt Agatha, I realized what her life was like. She’d lost her husband. She spent her days creating a future for a progeny that weren’t her own. She…Tomas…”
“She loved you like her own child,” Tomas said, clearly not understanding.
Violet knew she wasn’t making sense. Her thoughts about that were all jumbled up in her grief and loss and the guilt that she hadn’t been able to stop Aunt Agatha’s murder.
Tomas continued. “Raising and loving and creating something for you wasn’t emptiness. Do you think Aunt Agatha was unhappy being a second mother to you?”
“No,” Violet said simply. “No, but the life she wanted didn’t pan out for her, Tomas. She had to create a new one when fate took away what she wanted, a new life that melded what she loved from her old life and what was available to her after losing her husband.”
“What does that have to do with you and me?”
“What you want is not available to you,” Violet told him. “Accept it.”
He seemed utterly shocked. “I don’t understand why you won’t give me a chance. You must hate me.”
Violet laughed. “You know I don’t. I’m not going to be your wife, Tomas. No matter how many times you ask. No matter how much I care about you.”
“I only feel like myself when you’re around.” He sounded almost broken, desperate.
“I love another, Tomas. He might love me. He might not, but either way, I can’t…I won’t…pretend to love you. Not as a wife. Not when I don’t.”
That had been the right combination of words. Finally, she thought he believed her. He also looked as though she’d taken away all the colour in his world.
Tomas nodded, pale. “I understand.”
“If you’d let me be your sister…”
“I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know that any man would understand that. If this fellow loves you back…he won’t want me around.”
“I can’t be what you need. I can’t be your wife. I would be your sister. Jack…”
“I don’t want you to leave me.” The truth outed a moment later. “The ghosts leave when you’re around.”
His gaze searched her face, the tension thick and almost capable of smothering them. “I…”
A shriek pierced the air, high-pitched and feminine. It was followed by the sound of something breaking and then a long slew of curses. Violet and Tomas looked towards the house as one, the tension gone in the shock of the commotion.
Violet glanced at him, horrified by what was happening in his house. Then she laughed at the look of helplessness on his face.
A moment later his lips twitched. “Who’d have thought that this was what growing up was all about. Declined proposals. The horrors of war. Bad dreams, and the most terrible hangers-on.”
“It’s your fault, you bedamned blighter, letting that woman latch onto you.”
He grinned at her and the boy from her childhood flashed in his eyes. “It’s not just her. Those odd French dancers. Theodophilus, though I did tell him he was out.”
“Don’t know how to get rid of them?”
He nodded, a reluctant smile crossing his face.
“What if I do it for you? Her, those leeching siblings, even Algie.”
“Then I’ll be alone,” he said, and nearly shuddered. “The silence is worse than when it gets too loud, Vi.”
“Come on,” she said, putting her arm through his and giving him a squeeze. “Vic and I would never leave you alone, Tomas.”
His grip was too tight on her fingers as they walked back to the house.
“Who do you think she was shouting at this time?” Violet asked him.
He shrugged. “It could be any of them. I might be the only one she hasn’t taken to her bosom. She’s a viper. When it ends, it’s never pretty.”
Violet laughed as he blushed brilliantly.
“Darling one,” Violet said, “do you think she’ll turn to Victor before we get rid of her?”
“He is rich.” A dawning light of utter joy crossed his face as he glanced around for eavesdroppers. “I’ll drop that he recently inherited.”
“Oh no,” Violet said, “Let me do that. I want to see the look on his face.”
Tomas’s shout of laughter was just what she wanted. They w
ent in only to immediately see Victor smoking in the library. At the sight of her twin, the two of them broke into contagious giggles that even had the clueless Victor smiling.
“Do you promise?” Tomas asked a moment later.
To get rid of Bettina? Yes. To not leave him alone. That too. Violet nodded.
“What are we promising?” Victor asked.
“Mischief,” Violet declared lightly.
“You’ve asked Violet to conduct mischief for you?” Victor asked, lighting another cigarette and handing it to Tomas. “You’ve found the right devil for that.”
“I knew she was the one,” Tomas joked as he took the cigarette, “when she told Bettina her birthmark had smeared.”
Violet winked, curtsied, and fled. She had no doubt that Victor would draw out of Tomas what had happened and that Victor would appear sooner or later at her bedroom door.
“I called for reinforcements while you were out,” Victor said from the doorway of her room.
Violet paused in her typing and looked up slowly, the specter and the virgin fading from her thoughts as she blinked stupidly at her brother. She ran a hand through her hair and asked, “Reinforcements?”
“Denny, Lila, Gwennie if they still have her.”
Violet gasped.
“John Davies too. I thought I would do what I could for sweet Gwyneth.”
Violet choked on her laugh. “Tomas flirts with Gwennie.”
“He does indeed.”
“John is the kind of man who gets a good push when he thinks someone else might sneak in and take what he thinks is his.”
Victor chuckled. “How does matchmaker look on me?”
Violet sniffed and examined him through a pretend monocle. “Smashing, my good fellow, smashing!”
“Besides, I knew Tomas would propose. I knew you’d crush his heart. I knew you’d need a buffer. They’ll be down on the afternoon train. I thought we might go for an adventure in the morning before they arrive, get them from the train on the way back, and secure ourselves against the ensuing drama. That Italian woman has had fury and spite in her eyes all day.”
There was something in Victor’s gaze that said she wasn’t the only one up to mischief. Speaking of, Violet rang the bell for Beatrice, though who she really needed was Hull, the butler. All she said to the machinations of her brother was, “That sounds lovely.”
He smirked at her and she looked impassively back at him.
“Dinner is soon, love. Should be exciting, yes?” He’d dropped into a terrible Italian accent with the last part.
“Go on with you. I must pretty up myself to be in the face of this goddess among women.”
“You refer to the prying Bettina and the alluring Juliette? That Juliette is…”
Violet paused. “Has my brother succumbed to love?”
Victor grinned and shook his head as he replied with a wicked laugh. “Succumbed, no. Love was never what was being offered.”
Violet snorted and shoved her brother out of her room.
Chapter 7
Beatrice was sent for Hull, and Mrs. Newstone, the housekeeper, arrived a few minutes later.
Violet greeted them in her bedroom. “I am well aware that what I am about to say is very…different.”
Both of the servants looked at Violet without expression. There was the light of interest in their otherwise impassive gazes.
“I am not the lady of this house, nor will I be.”
There was enough of a reaction on Mrs. Newstone’s lined face that Violet was aware that the housekeeper, at least, had guessed Tomas’s feelings.
“I am assured, however, that you both care for Mr. St. Marks as much as I do. I am certain that you wish for his happiness as much as do I. And I am sure that I can count on you for your discretion.”
They both nodded.
“Bettina Marino and the French dancers are hangers-on who Mr. St. Marks is too kind to rid himself of.”
The servants were stone-faced.
“I am uncertain of Mr. Charles Stroud; however, I would be unsurprised if he too is taking advantage of Mr. St. Marks.”
They couldn’t reply to such a declaration, but Violet didn’t need them to reply. They all knew each other rather well.
“This will be resolved. I know you are very, very good at your work and this household is run like a tight ship, well organized, well done in every part. Mr. St. Marks would be lost without you.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Mrs. Newstone said, and Mr. Hull nodded.
“That ends now,” Violet told them mischievously, “as far as those three go. I’ll consider upon Mr. Stroud. I know they’ve been friends for some time, but I won’t have him making Tomas worse by pushing him into loud parties and such.”
“I believe Mr. Stroud is a friend from before the war, my lady,” Mr. Hull said. “Mr. St. Marks was happy when he arrived.”
“Lovely. We have our targets. Cold tea. Fires that don’t get lit. Dresses don’t get pressed. Whatever little irritations we can ensure will remove the comfort of this house. Let me be utterly clear. Bettina Marino intends to be the mistress of this house, and it is an outcome that we will not allow.”
Mrs. Newstone’s lips twitched and she carefully said, “I’m not sure that small discomforts in the face of Mr. St. Marks’s deep pockets will be enough.”
“Worry not,” Violet declared merrily. “This is but our opening salvo. If it comes to it, Victor and I will simply take Mr. St. Marks with us to our house in London and not extend the invitation beyond him. Once that occurs, the house will be shut up so you may enjoy a holiday by the sea, at our expense, of course. We shall scold Mr. St. Marks into avoiding further ill-thought-out invitations and be done with it.”
Violet grinned and winked. “Well now… I believe it is time to dress for dinner and, no doubt, I am interfering with your duties.”
“And should complaints be made?” Mr. Hull asked.
“Apologize profusely, provide your regrets, and carry on.”
“Mr. St. Marks takes pride in this household,” Mrs. Newstone stated.
“Help has been requested. Worry not. I will ensure that this does not affect you.”
They left and Violet drew herself a bath. While she washed, Beatrice laid out Vi’s long, nude dress. It floated above her ankles by about five inches, but in a way that seemed to indicate that there was layer upon layer of fabric. The dress was beaded with tiny gold beads and crystals that made it seem to flicker. Tomas was one for candles in his dining room despite modern lighting, so she’d twinkle with each movement of the flames.
Violet set aside her favourite long strand of pearls for a necklace that would lie delicately against her collarbones. It was a simple gold chain broken up by black flowers lined in gold. She wore matching ear bobs.
Violet placed a headband around her hair with a gold feather that popped up merrily over her ear. Violet considered and then added red lipstick to finish the look. She knew she looked lovely, but the truth was, Juliette Boutet would outshine most women even when they literally sparkled as Violet would in the candlelight.
No matter. Violet wasn’t one to begrudge someone else the better looks.
“You look lovely, my lady,” Beatrice declared.
Violet grinned. “Aren’t you the sweetest girl?”
The dinner gong rang, and Violet winked and left the mess to Beatrice, who had become nearly as bothered by messes as Violet. She asked Beatrice to return her jewelry to the safe, and then she left her bedroom.
They had gathered outside of the dining room and Violet had missed the early drinks while she lingered over her makeup. She counted herself out of luck not for that but for the way Victor was sidestepping away from Juliette Boutet.
Tomas was doing a similar dance with Bettina. Violet smirked and her humour was caught by Charles Stroud, who winked at her as they watched. Violet stepped in, taking Tomas’s arm and earning a nasty look from Victor for saving the other man.
“Miss Marin
o,” Violet said glibly. “Don’t you just look lovely.”
“Why thank you. You glisten like a thousand gaudy jewels. This is the word, no?”
Violet grinned brightly. “I’m sure that is what you meant. Your hair is so lively. Tell me, is it always like that? Or do you use a special process to turn it into a cloud around your head?”
“Just good luck,” Bettina growled.
“It is eye-catching, isn’t it? Tomas, I think Victor and I shall have a big party for our birthday in London. You’ll come and stay with us, of course.”
Bettina’s gaze narrowed on Violet as she continued, “Where will your travel take you next, Bettina? Home to Italy?” It was clear where Violet’s hopes lay. It was also clear that Violet intended to take Tomas away from the woman. Take him away and also not take him for herself. Bettina’s gaze was sheer murder. The invitation to the birthday party without extending the invite to Bettina had been rather rude, Violet thought with a twitch of her lips.
“We shall see,” Bettina licked her lips and glanced up through her lashes at Tomas, clinging to his arm as she pressed her breasts into his side. The nature of her offer was clear. Tomas’s answering blush was delightful.
Violet grinned, then said, “Oh look.” She used the moment to tug Tomas free of Bettina. “It’s Mr. Hull.” Under her breath, she told Tomas, “Prepare yourself, darling, for complaints about the servants.”
He started under her hand, and she winked at him. They entered the dining hall for the meal. Bettina was seated next to Algernon and Tomas. Algie glanced at her, scowled, and turned back to his plate.
Juliette was murmuring to Victor, who teased her back, but the look in his gaze was that of a gazelle being pursued by a lion.
Violet grinned at her brother when Juliette placed her hand on his wrist and said something to him so low, he had to lean towards her or cup his hands to his ear with a hearty, “Eh?”
The food was perfect for Violet, but she noted how the plates were set in front of the Boutets and Miss Marino. Bettina’s plate was missing half the food. Miss Boutet received a bowl of soup with barely anything in it. She glanced down at it and ignored the bowl entirely as she cast out her lures towards Violet’s twin.
