The Countess Conspiracy
Page 66

Violet nodded. “Of course. Although referring to it as an event… I suppose it might be confusing if you haven’t witnessed it from the start. It started in 1862, but it has been going on ever since.”
“Oh dear.” Her mother leaned back in her chair. She looked relieved, of all things. She let out a deep breath. “Then…never mind. What I just said? Forget it. I didn’t say a thing. Perhaps you need to tell me the other aspects of, ah, this thing that I haven’t witnessed from the start. Perhaps that will change my mind.”
Violet fixed her mother with her sternest gaze. “Mother.”
“Yes, dear?”
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? Do you mean to tell me that all along we’ve been talking about different scandals?”
“Of course I know,” her mother said scornfully. “I’m your mother. And once you tell me all the details, I shall know even more.” She lifted her eyes to Violet’s face. “It’s about…about… Well, you know.”
Good heavens. Her mother wasn’t omniscient after all. Violet wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. And here she’d thought she could make a simple announcement and walk out while her mother sputtered in indignation.
There would be no preserving her dignity now.
“Perhaps,” her mother said thoughtfully, “you might share a few particulars just to be sure we are both agreed.”
Violet snorted. “Well, do stop me when I tread into familiar territory.”
Her mother smiled ruefully, and somehow, that made it better. As if this game they played, the one where her mother pretended to know and Violet pretended she knew, would make everything right between them.
That old hope rose up: She might not hate you.
Violet quashed it ruthlessly. She couldn’t bear to have it taken from her again.
Violet drew a deep breath. “It’s about Sebastian Malheur.”
“Are you actually having an affair with him?” her mother said. “Because that’s not so bad. In fact, I’d imagine he’s fairly good at what he does.”
Violet felt her face burn.
“Although if it’s been going on since 1862…” She paused. “Since before your husband, ah, passed away, Violet? Really? That seems unlike you.”
“A lady always lies about her love life,” Violet heard herself quote smoothly, even though she knew the flush on her cheeks wasn’t helping. “If it’s bad, sharing it will expose her to gossip. If it’s good, talk will only occasion jealousy.”
Her mother sniffed demurely.
“In any event, my love life is not the point. Do you know the work Sebastian has presented?”
“I’m not familiar with it, but from what little I’ve heard it seems sound.” Her mother shrugged. “It makes a lot of people angry, but then, many true things have that effect.”
“Well.” Violet took a deep breath. “It’s not his work. It’s mine.”
Silence. Utter silence.
“I wrote the very first piece on snapdragons in 1862,” Violet said. “On the color of them, why there could be no pink snapdragon that bred true. I tried to have it published in my own name, but they wouldn’t even read it. So we had Sebastian submit it, and the next thing we knew…” Violet waved a hand suggestively. “…We were knee-deep in a secret partnership. I did the work. He presented it.”
Her mother was staring at her, a blank look on her face. “I should have paid more attention to his work,” she said slowly. “I didn’t realize he—you—had written about pink snapdragons, of all things.” She swallowed and touched her hair. “If I had known that, I would have realized earlier.”
“But he’s grown weary of it. He doesn’t like living a lie, and truthfully, neither do I. I thought for a while that I could give it up, but I’ve just discovered something. Something new, something so important that I’m bursting to tell everyone. I want to do it.” Her hands were trembling. “I know that when the news gets out—when people understand that I’ve been the one behind this all—it will utterly destroy my reputation. I’ve written papers that discuss intercourse and sexual organs in plants and animals. It is going to cause the most extraordinary to-do. I know I’m being terribly selfish. I know that I’m risking the family’s good name. I know that…” She paused and caught her breath. “I know you may never speak to me again, Mama, but this is mine and I want to be heard. I don’t care what you say or how you threaten. I want my work back.”
She hadn’t known until she spoke how much she wanted it. How much it meant to her.
“I want my name on it,” she said. “I want people to know it’s me. I’ve been disappearing. Over the last years, I haven’t had any voice at all. I want this.”
Her mother raised her hand to her mouth. Her eyes were wide. Violet had never seen her mother struck speechless before. It would take her a few moments for her to comprehend everything, but once she did…
Well, Violet had heard her admonitions long enough. She knew exactly what her mother was going to say. They’d be set against one another.
“Violet,” her mother finally said. “Violet, I had no idea.”
Violet bowed her head, unable to watch any longer. “I’m sorry. I ought to have told you before.”
“Indeed. You ought to have done so immediately.” Her mother tapped her fingers on the table, not saying anything more. “If you had told me right away,” her mother finally said, “we would have done something about that first paper.”
Violet raised her head. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to interfere. I wanted the information out, and if you were to squelch it—”
“Good God, Violet.” Her mother’s eyes widened in amazement. “Why would I do that?”
“I…” Violet paused, suddenly unsure of her entire world. “I don’t know?”
“No, clearly you don’t. My daughter just told me that she is the foremost expert on inheritance in the British Empire. Do you think I want to keep that quiet?”
Oh, God. It was too much. All that she’d never let herself hope for, and then more. Violet felt her eyes sting.
“I want everyone to know. I want to rub their noses in it—every woman who’s expressed sympathy because I hadn’t any sons, because I had nobody to accomplish anything. I want them all to know that my daughter is more clever than all of their offspring put together.”