Violet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  Henry’s eyes widened. “A wolf? What you thinkin’ of, Master Bran? Ain’t no—”

  “I know,” Brandon said quickly. “There isn’t any excuse for going alone. I should have summoned help.”

  “No, suh. I was goin’ to say there ain’t—”

  “Bend my ear later, Henry. Miss Shannon’s already given me a set-down. I want to go to the house now.”

  Exchanging puzzled looks and simultaneously shrugging, Aaron and Henry stepped aside and let Brandon and Shannon leave, then followed at a slower, more thoughtful pace.

  Upon returning to the folly, Brandon was cosseted and cared for, though he made light of his injury. Shannon couldn’t fail to notice that his story about the wolf was greeted with skepticism, but she supposed it was because no one wanted to believe he had been so foolish as to chase the creature. Shannon was at once congratulated and chastised for her bravery. Shattering a few pumpkins, Martha told her, didn’t make her a marksman, but she hugged Shannon just the same for trying to protect “that no-account boy” from hurting himself.

  As a topic of conversation, Brandon’s reckless pursuit of the wolf was less than a two days’ wonder. Aurora’s announcement that she intended to invite the Reverend Robert Whittaker and his wife to the folly gave everyone something else to talk about. Brandon was the only one who greeted the announcement calmly, knowing well the futility of trying to dissuade his wife. Cody was certain Aurora’s intention was less to discuss the divorce and more to find a method of humiliating Shannon. Brandon was inclined to believe his brother, though unable to guess how Aurora might attempt to accomplish the thing. He considered that perhaps it was time to send Shannon elsewhere, if only for a few days, but when he broached the subject with her, she refused his offer, saying that if Aurora’s purpose was to shame her, it could not be done without her permission. There is no shame in loving you, she had said, and it had sorely tested Brandon’s willpower to keep from backing Shannon into the linen cupboard and kissing her breathless.

  The Whittakers arrived for dinner at the folly three days after Aurora issued her invitation. Brandon did his best to put the couple at ease. For all that his wife was intent upon playing the gracious hostess, it was clear the Whittakers were uncomfortable with the reason that prompted their visit.

  Molly Whittaker was, in the best circumstances, given to a perpetually flustered expression. Her eyes, set wide apart in a round face, often blinked in a staccato movement, as if she were constantly surprised. Confronted as she was by Aurora’s apparent gaiety in spite of the serious nature of their visit, Molly’s lashes fluttered so quickly, Brandon found himself thinking they would take flight. It seemed that her husband thought so, too, for Brandon saw Robert give Molly a reproving look as Aurora ushered them into the drawing room.

  Though Robert Whittaker did not share his wife’s outwardly innocent air, he remained a thorough optimist at heart. In all matters he tended toward thoughtfulness, reserving judgment behind a thin-lipped smile and grave pewter eyes, giving the impression he not only listened, but heard more than was said. When Brandon sought him out, Robert had given him such a hearing and, for the first time, found his calmly delivered assurances would not suffice. Brandon did not want to hear that his marriage must not be dissolved; he did not want to be quoted Scripture or lectured on the sanctity of his vows. He wanted permission from the church to divorce, and Robert Whittaker was loath to apply for it, certainly not without speaking to Aurora.

  Robert Whittaker had heard the gossip concerning Aurora Fleming, and if but a tenth of it was true, he believed Brandon had been given cause to seek divorce. He had Brandon’s own statement, which gave credibility to much of what he had heard. But Whittaker, humbly acknowledging he was merely a Doctor of Divinity and had not the wisdom of Solomon, could not sanction divorce without first listening to Aurora’s concerns. He would have preferred to speak with her in the privacy of his own study, but after learning of the attempt on her life, he agreed that seeing her at the folly was the wiser choice.

  “Please, be seated,” Aurora said, indicating the gold and green striped love seat with a graceful wave of her hand. Her ring, a large polished onyx stone set in white gold, caught the candlelight and flashed briefly before Aurora dropped her hand to her side. “Dinner will be served soon, and the rest of our family will be joining us. Would you care for some refreshment now?”

  Molly looked inquiringly at her husband. At his brief nod she answered, “A small glass of wine for me, thank you.”

  “Reverend Whittaker?”

  “The same.”

  Brandon served, having already dismissed the liveried servant because he wanted as few ears as possible privy to their conversation. Aurora also had wine, but Brandon felt in need of something stronger. He splashed a leaded crystal tumbler with Scotch, examined it, and then added another fingerful.

  Aurora smoothed the folds of her pale blue taffeta gown as she sat down opposite the Whittakers. White garters studded with seed pearls caught her sleeves above her elbows, and a waterfall of lace fell over her slender arms, pointing to her wrists. Other than her ring, the only jewelry she wore was a choker of pearls, which drew attention away from the scooped neckline of her bodice. She fingered the ruching decorating her skirt, betraying a moment’s nervousness before she lifted her glass to her lips.

  “It was very kind of you to accept my invitation to dine,” she said, looking at the Whittakers over the rim of her glass.

  “We were happy to come,” Robert said politely. “May I say that you are looking well? Molly and I were concerned that mayhap you suffered some injury from your…” He faltered as he tried to choose his words carefully. “From your accident,” he finished.

  “I am quite recovered,” she said. “A few bruises, nothing more.”

  Brandon’s dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You know about Aurora’s fall?” he asked, leaning one shoulder against the mantelpiece. “How did that come about?”

  “I told them when I sent the invitation, Bran,” said Aurora, saving the Whittakers a reply. “Surely you did not mean for it to be a secret. I believe Robert and Molly have every right to know there was an attempt on my life, coming as it did on the heels of your decision to divorce me.”

  Robert’s winged brows slanted upward. “I’m certain you don’t mean to imply there is a connection between Brandon and your accident,” he said.

  Of course she did, Brandon thought, rolling the tumbler between his palms. He considered defending himself and decided against it, letting Aurora answer for herself. Clearly she had shocked the Whittakers with her suggestion. They were not prepared to believe that he was so desperate to be rid of his wife that murder would suit if divorce did not.

  An attractive apricot flush stole across Aurora’s cheeks. “Did I give that impression?” she asked, her violet eyes widening. “Forgive me. I would rather we did not speak of the matter at all. An unpleasantness better left in the past, I think.”

  “Certainly,” Molly said, blinking rapidly as she sought some topic that would relieve the uncomfortable silence that was sure to descend. Her eyes alighted on Aurora’s hand. “That is a most attractive ring. Onyx, isn’t it?”

  Aurora nodded. “How kind of you to say so. Yes, it’s onyx. A gift from my parents.”

  It was all Brandon could do to swallow his Scotch without choking. He had noticed the ring, and he knew very well that it was not among his wife’s jewelry when she left for Belletraine. It was a gift from Parker. He realized Aurora must feel very confident that he would not expose her lie. And he wouldn’t. Not when the price Aurora would extract would be at Shannon’s expense. By flaunting the ring, Aurora was reminding him they both had secrets that were better left unsaid.

  “How are your parents?” asked Robert. “Well, I hope?”

  “Oh, yes. They visited not long ago. Mama and Papa missed Clara dreadfully. They had a splendid time with her.”

  All of which was perfectly true, Brandon thought. He wonde
red that he should still be amazed at Aurora’s facile explanations. “And Clara enjoyed every moment of their stay. I was surprised that she remembered them so well. It had been a long time since she had seen them.”

  “Will Clara be dining with us?” asked Molly, setting her empty glass on the table at her side. “I confess I would like to see her. It seems an age since she was last in church.”

  Brandon ignored the faint reproval in Molly’s tone. He was unwilling to make excuses for not attending church these past months. It was not the service he objected to attending, but the socializing afterward that he found unbearable. His presence, and Aurora’s absence, would have only served to fuel the gossip and give rise to pitying glances he could not bear. “Yes, she will be dining with us. It is a special treat for her to dine with guests, and she has promised to put her best manners forward.” He chuckled. “I imagine that means she will try not to spill her milk, but one can never tell.”

  “Brandon is so indulgent with her,” said Aurora, smiling faintly. “She begged to be allowed to join us, and he simply cannot say no to her.”

  Very clever, Brandon thought. How sweetly innocent she sounded as she damned him, suggesting he gave in to Clara’s every whim. He almost laughed aloud when he realized how she had miscalculated her thrust as Molly defended his decision.

  “I couldn’t be more pleased to have her join us. The nursery has its place, I think, but children must be allowed to mingle with adults upon occasion. How else should they learn?”

  “Indeed,” said Robert. “There is no better way for a child to sense she is part of the family than to be permitted to share a meal with the other members. It will be a pleasure to dine with her.”

  “It is precisely this talk of family that concerns me,” Aurora said. Her hand visibly shook as she set her glass of wine aside. “I thought we would speak of this after dinner, but since you have brought it up…” Her expression was earnest as she addressed Robert. “Aren’t we in effect lying to Clara? How am I to encourage her to believe that she is part of a family when the family will be no more if Brandon has his way? My husband wishes to divorce me, remove me from my daughter’s life. I cannot—”

  “This is not the time, Aurora,” Brandon cut in firmly.

  Aurora’s eyes glistened at the reprimand. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the Whittakers. “Brandon’s correct, of course. This is a matter for later discussion, after you have had a chance to observe our family.” She forced a smile, determined to be cheerful. “Cody is here. He has not returned to William and Mary. He’s making plans to join my father’s business in several months.”

  “I thought he wanted to study law,” said Robert.

  Brandon smiled wryly. “I’m afraid it’s what I wanted for him, and not what he wanted for himself. Thank God he finally spoke up.”

  “My husband sometimes assumes he knows what is best for everyone,” Aurora added quietly, but with a certain appeal that the Whittakers could not mistake. “I was very proud of Cody for insisting that Brandon listen to his wishes. It is a measure of the man he has become.”

  Brandon was saved from responding by Martha’s announcement that dinner was served. Gritting his teeth, he left his glass on the mantel and offered Molly his arm, leaving Robert to escort Aurora. “In addition to Cody and Clara, Aurora’s sister will be dining with us,” he said, stepping into the hallway.

  “I had no idea Aurora had a sister.”

  Aurora, hearing the conversation in front of her, answered. “It was something of a shock to me also,” she admitted. “It is rather a complicated situation, one which demands a lengthier explanation than either Bran or I can give now. Brandon has been very kind to allow her to stay with us, and Shannon has become quite close with Clara. Shannon’s been my daughter’s governess since her arrival in June.”

  Brandon thought of several curses he would have liked to place on Aurora’s head as he felt Molly stiffen beside him. Again, Aurora spoke the truth, but the manner in which she said it made him seem the ogre. The impropriety of employing one’s sister-in-law as a governess was not lost on Molly, and certainly not on Robert. “It was Shannon’s wish,” he said, striving for calm.

  “Of course it was, darling,” she agreed readily. “Haven’t I already said how kind you were to permit her to stay here?”

  Brandon opted for a coolly polite smile as he parted the doors to the dining room and escorted Molly inside. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Molly’s lashes beat furiously as she was confronted with Shannon Kilmartin. Behind him, the usually unflappable Robert Whittaker gave a tiny start of surprise.

  Even though Brandon knew he could not be completely objective where Shannon was concerned, he believed no one could fault him for thinking she looked incredibly radiant this evening. She wore one of the dresses he had had made for her when she was posing as Aurora: a gown of marbled rose silk, which contrasted beautifully with the dark richness of her hair. The modest square-cut bodice was edged with ivory lace, and her throat was unadorned by any jewelry. Tiers of lace fell from the elbow-length sleeves of the gown, and on one wrist—Brandon recognized Clara’s touch—Shannon wore a satin rose ribbon as a bracelet.

  She had been talking quietly to Cody, feathering Clara’s curls absently, when the dining room’s doors parted. As she looked up and smiled, Brandon selfishly wished that her welcome was reserved for him, even at the risk of damning them both.

  Cody handled the introductions, remarking on the startling resemblance between Aurora and Shannon so the Whittakers were not made foolish for staring. “It still startles us,” he said, seating Shannon at the table. He helped Clara into a chair between himself and Shannon while the others were seated.

  “It is quite amazing,” said Molly as she unfolded her napkin on her lap. Her eyes darted between Shannon and Aurora. “I shouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it.” Her gaze finally rested on Shannon. “Aurora mentioned you act as Clara’s governess.”

  Shannon started to reply but Clara cut her off, shaking her head violently from side to side. “Don’t want a guvness,” she said firmly. “Mishannon’s my friend.”

  “That’s right, Clara,” Shannon said easily, smiling apologetically to Molly. “I’ve never really been a governess to Clara. She has never taken to the idea, so we arrived at a decision to be friends. A very satisfactory arrangement, I might add.”

  “It would seem so,” said Robert Whittaker, smiling genially at Clara from across the table. “When your Papa visited me, he said something about a pony. Are you learning to ride?”

  Clara launched into an excited discussion about Rainbow while the meal was being served. Portions of venison, baked chicken, boiled potatoes sprinkled with parsley and cheese, buttered carrots and peas, and warm cornbread soon filled everyone’s plate. Clara tucked into her meal when her mother gave permission, but eating had hardly any discernible effect on her chatter. “I’m going to have a fine seat someday,” she said proudly. “Just like Mama. Papa says so.”

  “Did he say that, Clara?” asked Aurora, her eyes softening as she looked down the table at Brandon.

  Clara nodded. “He always tells me that, don’t you, Papa?”

  “I certainly do,” he said, meeting Aurora’s gaze steadily while he continued to speak to his daughter. “Your mother is the finest horsewoman I know. You would do well to match only half her skill.”

  The compliment was so unexpected that Aurora felt herself blushing. She tore her eyes away from Brandon’s and stared at her plate.

  “Do you ride?” Robert inquired of Shannon.

  “Not with any of my sister’s finesse,” she admitted. “There was no need for me to learn to ride at Glen Eden. I walked everywhere.”

  “Glen Eden,” Molly said wistfully. “What a lovely name. Is it as beautiful as it sounds?”

  “Lovely. A very small village, of course, just north of London.”

  Aurora roused herself from her reverie. “Shannon’s stepfather was the vicar there
.”

  “The vicar?” asked Robert, raising one winged brow in interest.

  “Yes,” said Shannon. “He had the living at Glen Eden until his death earlier this year.”

  “Please accept our regrets at your loss,” Robert murmured.

  “It was a tragic accident,” Aurora said sincerely. “But it finally permitted Shannon the opportunity to seek me out. While I had no knowledge that I had a sister, Shannon knew of me.”

  Brandon looked at Aurora sharply, wondering at her game. He saw Cody and Shannon exchange puzzled glances. But as Aurora continued, it became clear, for some reason known only to her, she had no intention of divulging any of Shannon’s secrets. Almost against his will he found himself grateful to his wife.

  “It was my mother’s last wish that Shannon find the family who had adopted me at birth,” Aurora went on. Shannon’s hand was lying beside her plate, and Aurora impulsively rested her hand on top, giving Shannon’s fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I thank God every day that my sister honored our mother’s request. I only regret I never knew my real mother, for Shannon has described her as a gracious and giving person.” She sighed, removing her hand from Shannon’s. “I think it is important that children grow up knowing their parents, don’t you agree?”

  “Of course,” said Molly, filling a moment of uncomfortable silence.

  Brandon stared darkly at his wife. “I think you will find we all share your sentiment. It is unfortunate when events separate a mother from her child, though hardly catastrophic.”

  Aurora studied the muscle working in Brandon’s jaw and retreated, realizing to say more could damage the point she had worked so hard to make for the benefit of the Whittakers. She already sensed that Robert was not in favor of Brandon’s suit for divorce. If she could bring him more firmly to her side by using the natural bond of mother and daughter, she would do it. “Still,” she said, a trace of longing in her voice, “I wish that I had some remembrance of my own dear mother. My adoptive parents would not begrudge me that.”

  “I had a locket,” Shannon said quietly, setting her fork down, no longer able to maintain the pretense of enjoying her food. She made an effort not to betray her inner feelings by smiling at her sister as if no tension existed between them. “It contained a miniature of our mother when she was a child. It was the only keepsake I had. I regret to say that I don’t know what’s become of it.”