Haunting Violet
Page 38

“Oi!” Colin launched himself at us. The collar of his coat was near my nose, already stiffening with frost, as my dress had. I gasped for air. “What the bleedin’ hell was that?” he demanded. The rain continued to fall, but it was softer, warmer.
I just shook my head, letting the heat of his body chase the last of the shivers away. He smelled of smoke and wine and blackberries. I wanted to curl up into him like a kitten.
“Oh, Violet,” Elizabeth whispered.
Colin jerked slightly, as if he’d forgotten she was there. He sat up and then put his arm behind me when I struggled to do the same. When I stood up, my knees were soggy, weak. I felt as if I’d swum in the ocean for days without rest. Everything hurt. I limped away from the pond, wanting only a warm fire and buckets of hot tea. Colin cursed, stalked over to me, and then swept me up into his arms. I could tell Elizabeth, despite her recent fright, thought it all very romantic. I just scowled up at him.
“I can walk,” I said. My voice was decidedly rusty.
He didn’t even glance at me. “Shut up.”
I opened my mouth to argue but something in his face stopped me, and anyway, I hardly had the energy. He shook his head.
“I knew you were up to no good,” he muttered.
None of us spoke until we were back on the estate grounds. In the privacy of the grove, he set me down on my feet. The oak trees dripped around us and the sun was already coming out, falling between the gnarled branches like honey.
“This way,” Elizabeth said, leading us down yet another secret walkway, this one winding past the kitchens to a little-used door. Everything smelled like wet roses. We took the servant stairs and hurried down the hallway toward a small family sitting room. “No one ever comes here,” she assured us, shutting the door behind her. It was hardly proper for us to be behind closed doors unchaperoned, but none of us cared much. Damp wool, soggy petticoats, and angry ghosts tend to put things in perspective.
Colin crouched and lit the wood prepared in the grate. Soon we were huddled in front of the flames, sprawled like puppies on the ground, fighting for every ounce of warmth. It was so much nicer than the coal fires in the grates of London houses. The smell of the wood smoke was like a warm scarf on a winter day. We left our damp boots on the carpet. I was still racked with the odd violent shiver even though I was beginning to feel warmer. I let my hair down and wrung it out like a rope, holding it out to the fire to dry.
“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Colin asked grimly.
I hadn’t told him before now because I’d been afraid he would only mock me. We set up too many tricks of our own. But given what had just happened, there seemed little chance of him teasing me about it now.
“I …” I bit my lip and stared into the flames. I could feel him looking at me. I tried to picture Xavier’s polite and proper smile and couldn’t. “I … I’ve been seeing spirits,” I finished in a rush, as if daring him to make a comment. There was a long beat of silence and another. I didn’t know what he was thinking. Finally, I had to give in and look at him. I arched an eyebrow defensively. “Well?”
Which, I admit, was hardly a gracious way to thank him for rescuing me.
But I really hated having to be rescued.
He nodded. “All right.”
I gaped at him. “All right? That’s all?” I glanced at Elizabeth, whose eyes had drifted shut. Her breathing was even and slow. I knew she wasn’t pretending because she never would have let her mouth hang open like that had she been awake. “After everything?” I whispered.
“I believe you, Vi.” For some reason it made tears burn behind my lids, but I blinked them away. Bad enough I’d nearly fainted; I wasn’t about to become a watering pot as well. I picked at the lace of my petticoat, tumbling like frothed cream out from under my hem. His ears went red, which was odd. He was hardly the prim and proper sort. I knew full well he’d been to Covent Garden to mingle with the unsavories. He was eighteen years old, after all. “But you have to be careful.” I looked down when he touched my hand. “What were you doing at the pond?” he asked.
“We went to contact Rowena,” I explained, telling him about the ball and the fact that a murderer had waltzed among us and ending with the apparition that had flung itself out of the agitated water.
“You little ijit,” he cursed, shaking his head. “Didn’t I tell you there was something off? Did you not even think to protect yourself? Not a speck of salt on you, I reckon.”
I only blinked at him. “What does salt have to do with any of this?”
“It protects you from evil.”
“Salt?” Disbelief all but dripped from my voice. I couldn’t help it. “Table salt? How is seasoning myself going to help? This isn’t a dinner party.”
“It may as well have been, the way you invited that spirit like you did. You leave yourself open that way, as you found out. You have to be careful, Violet.”
“How do you know all this?”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable.
I tilted my head. “How, Colin?” I asked again.
He jerked a hand through his hair. His blue eyes gleamed. “Because me mam had the gift.” He said it so fast I almost didn’t understand him.
“Your mother?” I repeated uselessly. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never talked about his family. “Truly?”
“Aye,” he said quietly.