Haunting Violet
Page 23

Mrs. Trethewey’s eyes lit up, my suspicious reading habits instantly forgotten. “You don’t say!”
Xavier nodded, and the two of them proceeded to discuss the new fashion for silk flowers, calling cards with silk borders, and a new shop on Bond Street I’d never heard of. I drank tea and smiled and nodded and drank more tea. Finally, Xavier stood.
“I ought to return Miss Willoughby to her mother, I suppose, so they may change for the picnic.”
“I suppose so,” I agreed, rising reluctantly. I had every intention of slipping into some dark corner with a book and no intention whatsoever of spending the afternoon with my mother. Plus, I didn’t have an extra dress to change into. “Thank you for the tea.”
“I am very much looking forward to your mother’s demonstrations,” Mrs. Trethewey said. “She is quite famous. Quite famous indeed, if she has sat for Lady Charleston.”
“You really are uncommonly pretty,” Mr. Trethewey said, smiling jovially. “I understand what my son sees in you.”
I smiled weakly.
The picnic was chaperoned by Lord Jasper’s more amiable sister Lady Octavia. Some of the neighboring families attended and so Tabitha was there as well. I refused to let her glower ruin the afternoon. My mother elected to stay behind, not being fond of the outdoors, and I felt very nearly free despite my precarious position and imminent ghost-madness. The sky was as blue and delicate as a porcelain teacup, and the hills rolled gently in all directions, intersected occasionally with the silver ribbon of a river. Robins sang in the beech trees.
Tables waited for us on a hilltop, set with white cloths and ceramic pitchers filled with lemonade. There was cold ham and pigeon pie and bowls of blackberries and custard. I wondered if Colin had been pressed into helping the footmen move all of the food and if he’d noticed the very fine cutlery. It would have been so easy to slip one of those silver spoons into the slit in the hem of my skirt. I might have sold it back in London and got enough money to buy food for the week. We might even have been able to afford beef. I clasped my hands behind my back to avoid the temptation.
“Violet, you simply must try one of these tartlets!” Elizabeth brushed crumbs off her hands. There were pearl beads on her gloves. “On second thought, perhaps you should stick to the sweets. It wouldn’t do to eat leek tarts now when Xavier might kiss you!”
I glanced about. “Elizabeth!”
She just laughed. “No one’s near enough to hear us. So how did it go with his mother? She loves you already, of course.” Sometimes Elizabeth’s optimism still took me by surprise. She had no doubt that Xavier loved me and that we’d be married and everything would turn out swimmingly. But she didn’t really know my mother, or how close I had come to stealing the silverware.
Still, it had gone better than I’d thought. Xavier’s mother seemed disposed to think well of me. And apparently his father still wouldn’t stop telling Xavier how pretty I was.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Colin was thinking about our kiss at all.
I ate a slice of pineapple before answering her and then lost my train of thought completely. I’d never eaten pineapple before. It was even better than strawberry ice cream.
“This is the best food I have ever eaten,” I said reverently, taking another bite. “I would marry this pineapple, if I could.”
“Well, have at it then, before Lord Furlinghew creaks his way up here. He’s notorious for eating it all and leaving none for anyone else.”
I ate two more slices so fast I nearly choked.
Elizabeth grinned and slipped a handful of sugared almonds into her reticule for later. “They’ve set up a croquet field on the other side of the hill. Let’s see if a match has started yet.”
“I don’t know how to play,” I said apologetically.
“Oh, I don’t actually want to play.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I just want to see if it gets warm enough that Lord Fitzwilliam has to remove his coat. He has the nicest shoulders.”
The thwack of mallets led us around a copse of ash saplings to a meadow bordered with cowslips and daisies. Dress flounces and hair ribbons fluttered and polished boots gleamed as guests laughed and attempted to knock the striped wooden balls clear out of the allotted playing field. The long grass fluttered around our calves. The pond between Rosefield and Whitestone Manor gleamed like a silver coin dropped into the palm of summer.
If Xavier and I really did marry, we might have many afternoons like this one. Lazy and content, full of pineapple and elegant friends. Never mind that Elizabeth was the only person here I was really comfortable with—it was still a nice daydream. I tilted my head up to the sky, letting the dapple of sunlight make the insides of my closed eyelids dance with colors.
“I knew he’d have to take off his coat eventually!” Elizabeth giggled. The sound pierced the quiet moment, jolting me back. “And his cravat. I may swoon. Violet! You have to look.”
I opened my eyes lazily. “Mmm?”
“Fitzwilliam over there. The handsome one.” She sounded fluttery.
I obediently followed her gave and also went fluttery.
Only I wasn’t looking at Lord Fitzwilliam but Rowena Wentworth.
She came toward me, stepping out of the ash saplings, trailing a soaked hem that left water in the grass like dew. No one else saw her. Elizabeth continued her excited, hushed chatter, a mallet cracked against a ball, a red-winged blackbird cried as it dove toward the pond. Rowena stared at me, hard.