Haunting Violet
Page 73
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
And then he shifted, eyes opening slightly, before closing again on another snore.
Elizabeth hurled herself toward the door and we escaped in a flurry of muffled giggles.
CHAPTER 22
I’d loved Rosefield before, but I loved it even more now. It was a safe haven, surrounded by roses and filled with books. I knew by some instinct that Lord Jasper was trustworthy; I’d been mistaken before to suspect him. I could finally begin to imagine myself as a real person, not simply a pawn in Mother’s endless quest for riches and prestige. Everything felt bigger—the room I slept in, the small trunk with my few dresses, the very air. There was finally a measure of space not taken up by her uncertain temper.
And perhaps I wouldn’t have chosen the life of a medium, but I couldn’t deny that it was thrilling. Everything seemed to be falling into place for me, except for one thing—I missed Colin.
It would be awful to have to leave this place and return to the yellow coal fog of London and the harrowing maze of Mother’s moods, but at least Colin would be there. Even as she dragged me about to public halls to make money off my newfound talent, he, at least, would be there. It might be almost bearable. I’d stopped thinking of him as the irritating boy who prowled our house with his big feet and arrogant smirk. Now he was the one I might finally escape with; he was handsome and strong and he understood me. It was an intoxicating combination. I pressed a hand to my warm cheek.
I might have sat there a little longer, immersed in thoughts of Colin, but the press of spirits was in the room. There was that subtle shift in temperature and pressure that I was beginning to recognize. There was the smell of strong Turkish coffee and the sound of footsteps on the rug. But there was no one else in the library, just me, curled in a leather chair. I squinted, caught a flash of mist in the shape of a dress with silver-netted panniers. As usual, that one glimpse made all the other glimpses easier to see.
And quite suddenly it was rather crowded in the empty library.
The woman with the wide dress had a heart-shaped patch on her cheek covering a smallpox scar. She gave a ribald laugh as she floated to the top of the bookshelf and pulled down a book I felt certain I wasn’t allowed to see. She drank coffee from a crystal cup.
Behind her, a young boy with dirt on his face grinned at me.
A cat attacked the motes of dust hanging in a beam of sunlight. I had no idea if he was a real cat or a ghostly cat.
“I thought I might find you here,” Lord Jasper said from the doorway where he’d been watching me swat away invisible people. Perfect.
“It’s so peaceful here,” I said, hastily lowering my hand. Even with all the dead people.
“You know about your third eye now, from the reading I gave you?” He leaned against his cane.
I nodded.
“Picture it now then, and see it closing, as if it were asleep. That way, you’ll only see the spirits when you choose to open the eye.”
“But what about the ones I want to see?” I was thinking of Mr. Rochester. I’d miss his furry, clever little face.
“You can half-shut the eye, as if it were drowsy.”
I tried it. Immediately, the shadows receded a little. It felt itchy still, as if a headache loomed, but it was better than the alternative. I beamed at him. “Thank you!”
“It will take some time to master properly, of course.”
“Lord Jasper?” I asked when he turned to go.
“Yes, my dear?”
“You have psychical talents too, don’t you?”
“I did.” He paused and smiled sadly at me over his shoulder. “A long time ago.”
Tea was served in the main parlor for the guests. Lord Jasper’s sister Lucinda sniffed at me when I dared pass her chair. She turned her head, giving me the cut direct. She clearly didn’t approve of my return. Her friends followed her lead, sticking their noses in the air. I went to hide in a chair by the door, behind a cabinet of curiosities.
Everyone else was talking about the farewell ball tonight, which would be even more grand than the one last week. Instead of wishing I could waltz with Colin under the ruby-glassed oil lamps, I was wondering how I was going to solve Rowena’s murder if I had to go back to London permanently. She refused to leave Tabitha’s side, and Tabitha was keeping to her room, according to Elizabeth.
“You look disgruntled. Have a scone.” Elizabeth sat next to me, offering her plate. “Cook puts candied rose petals in them. It’s tastier than it sounds.”
“We’re running out of time,” I said, taking the bite she offered me. Her mother glared at us sourly from the other side of the room, rising to her feet.
“Uh-oh.” Elizabeth sighed. She crammed the rest of the scone in her mouth in a huge, unladylike bite. “Mother doesn’t approve of me eating sweets,” she mumbled though the crumbs.
I felt certain that wasn’t the only thing Elizabeth’s mother disapproved of.
“Elizabeth,” Lady Ashford said, pointedly ignoring me. “Come along.”
Elizabeth blinked. “But I’m not finished with my tea.”
“All the same. This is not appropriate.”
“I’ve just finished,” she grumbled, brushing crumbs off the front of her silk dress.
“You know very well that’s not what I mean. Don’t cause a scene.” She gripped Elizabeth’s elbow and hauled her to her feet, despite her admonitions about causing a scene. Nearby chatter paused. I swallowed hard, hoping I wasn’t flushing red with anger and mortification. Elizabeth looked like an apoplectic radish.
Elizabeth hurled herself toward the door and we escaped in a flurry of muffled giggles.
CHAPTER 22
I’d loved Rosefield before, but I loved it even more now. It was a safe haven, surrounded by roses and filled with books. I knew by some instinct that Lord Jasper was trustworthy; I’d been mistaken before to suspect him. I could finally begin to imagine myself as a real person, not simply a pawn in Mother’s endless quest for riches and prestige. Everything felt bigger—the room I slept in, the small trunk with my few dresses, the very air. There was finally a measure of space not taken up by her uncertain temper.
And perhaps I wouldn’t have chosen the life of a medium, but I couldn’t deny that it was thrilling. Everything seemed to be falling into place for me, except for one thing—I missed Colin.
It would be awful to have to leave this place and return to the yellow coal fog of London and the harrowing maze of Mother’s moods, but at least Colin would be there. Even as she dragged me about to public halls to make money off my newfound talent, he, at least, would be there. It might be almost bearable. I’d stopped thinking of him as the irritating boy who prowled our house with his big feet and arrogant smirk. Now he was the one I might finally escape with; he was handsome and strong and he understood me. It was an intoxicating combination. I pressed a hand to my warm cheek.
I might have sat there a little longer, immersed in thoughts of Colin, but the press of spirits was in the room. There was that subtle shift in temperature and pressure that I was beginning to recognize. There was the smell of strong Turkish coffee and the sound of footsteps on the rug. But there was no one else in the library, just me, curled in a leather chair. I squinted, caught a flash of mist in the shape of a dress with silver-netted panniers. As usual, that one glimpse made all the other glimpses easier to see.
And quite suddenly it was rather crowded in the empty library.
The woman with the wide dress had a heart-shaped patch on her cheek covering a smallpox scar. She gave a ribald laugh as she floated to the top of the bookshelf and pulled down a book I felt certain I wasn’t allowed to see. She drank coffee from a crystal cup.
Behind her, a young boy with dirt on his face grinned at me.
A cat attacked the motes of dust hanging in a beam of sunlight. I had no idea if he was a real cat or a ghostly cat.
“I thought I might find you here,” Lord Jasper said from the doorway where he’d been watching me swat away invisible people. Perfect.
“It’s so peaceful here,” I said, hastily lowering my hand. Even with all the dead people.
“You know about your third eye now, from the reading I gave you?” He leaned against his cane.
I nodded.
“Picture it now then, and see it closing, as if it were asleep. That way, you’ll only see the spirits when you choose to open the eye.”
“But what about the ones I want to see?” I was thinking of Mr. Rochester. I’d miss his furry, clever little face.
“You can half-shut the eye, as if it were drowsy.”
I tried it. Immediately, the shadows receded a little. It felt itchy still, as if a headache loomed, but it was better than the alternative. I beamed at him. “Thank you!”
“It will take some time to master properly, of course.”
“Lord Jasper?” I asked when he turned to go.
“Yes, my dear?”
“You have psychical talents too, don’t you?”
“I did.” He paused and smiled sadly at me over his shoulder. “A long time ago.”
Tea was served in the main parlor for the guests. Lord Jasper’s sister Lucinda sniffed at me when I dared pass her chair. She turned her head, giving me the cut direct. She clearly didn’t approve of my return. Her friends followed her lead, sticking their noses in the air. I went to hide in a chair by the door, behind a cabinet of curiosities.
Everyone else was talking about the farewell ball tonight, which would be even more grand than the one last week. Instead of wishing I could waltz with Colin under the ruby-glassed oil lamps, I was wondering how I was going to solve Rowena’s murder if I had to go back to London permanently. She refused to leave Tabitha’s side, and Tabitha was keeping to her room, according to Elizabeth.
“You look disgruntled. Have a scone.” Elizabeth sat next to me, offering her plate. “Cook puts candied rose petals in them. It’s tastier than it sounds.”
“We’re running out of time,” I said, taking the bite she offered me. Her mother glared at us sourly from the other side of the room, rising to her feet.
“Uh-oh.” Elizabeth sighed. She crammed the rest of the scone in her mouth in a huge, unladylike bite. “Mother doesn’t approve of me eating sweets,” she mumbled though the crumbs.
I felt certain that wasn’t the only thing Elizabeth’s mother disapproved of.
“Elizabeth,” Lady Ashford said, pointedly ignoring me. “Come along.”
Elizabeth blinked. “But I’m not finished with my tea.”
“All the same. This is not appropriate.”
“I’ve just finished,” she grumbled, brushing crumbs off the front of her silk dress.
“You know very well that’s not what I mean. Don’t cause a scene.” She gripped Elizabeth’s elbow and hauled her to her feet, despite her admonitions about causing a scene. Nearby chatter paused. I swallowed hard, hoping I wasn’t flushing red with anger and mortification. Elizabeth looked like an apoplectic radish.
