Chapter 4 #3
“Follow me, Scout,” Violet said, garnering a look of confusion from Lydia.
“Let’s see how the rest is coming along.
” They exited the music room and made for the rest of the main floor.
“We shall have two telephones. One outside the administrative office and one in the staff quarter’s hall.
Mama talked Father into electricity in the kitchen, library, and dining room.
” The women oohed as they followed. “And I’m most curious to see if the out-of-doors sports course is complete. ”
“For archery and badminton and the like?” Lydia asked.
“Mmm, something like that, yes,” Violet answered with a secretive smile. They would coach so many other sports. Like swimming, and track and field.
Y
Later, as the Wendy League toured the gardens, Florrie and Nibs walked alongside Violet, while Lydia and Ruby strolled ahead, arm in arm, hats bent together in discussing too many ideas, no doubt.
Violet couldn’t blame them. Her head spun with prospects over what the school could mean to each girl who stepped through its front doors.
“Has your mother said anything more about”—Florrie dropped her voice to a whisper—“you-know-what?”
Violet’s breathing deepened. She knew what Florrie referred to, and though she wasn’t a superstitious being, she hesitated to share what wasn’t yet written in stone, for fear of jinxing it all. Her parents’ earlier exchange still rang in her ears. “I’m—hopeful.” Yes. She was hopeful.
“And? Surely, with the school opening so soon, you have a better idea of your position?”
She relented. “I wish I did.” She shook her head.
“I believe we are waiting on Father’s approval.
” Mama had given Violet a voice in how the school might be run, and the two of them had pored over anything they could find about running it—licenses and laws, cost and curriculum—and had allowed their vision to run along the edge of reason.
This was, after all, a time for women and pushing boundaries and exploring possibilities.
They’d armed themselves before approaching Father with the benefits of investing in a school.
A turning-of-the-century girls’ school. Because as much as it was a time for women, very little could be done without Father, no matter that Mama was a woman of her own means.
Florrie frowned. “Usually, I would wonder at your mother needing his permission. But this is a bit different, isn’t it?”
“Yes, exactly. Not only have they both invested in this venture, but they are my parents. In his distant way, my father does care for me.” She winced. “Or at least my future. Or his future, through me.”
“That, I understand.”
Violet nodded. “And despite the frustration he causes me, regularly, I—we—need to respect him. We do respect him and his support in this thing he has no real interest in whatsoever. And if Mama pushes too hard, there is every possibility that he will become too interested—”
“—and then where would that leave the running of the school and all of your groundbreaking ideas?”
“Yes. If he decided to be a voice in how we ran the school, we would lose our power. So, it is a very fine line we walk, to do this thing we cannot do without my father—”
“But cannot do with him.”
Violet bit her lip and nodded, relieved at being understood but also exposed in admitting to such a weakness.
“I do not know if Mama has asked him straight-out if I could run the school. But I know they’ve discussed my place here.
They argued.” She looked about her, the rose garden, the aviary and orchard beyond.
The windows of the home’s second-floor classrooms and third- and fourth-floor bedrooms. The stables and sports course, the new wing of staff quarters.
“I belong here, Florrie. In this grand old monstrosity reborn. For the first time in my life, I feel like I could belong somewhere.”
Florrie’s hand rested on her arm. “Don’t forget, darling. You’re one of us. You’re a Wendy-bird, and that shall never change.”
Violet smiled and covered Florrie’s hand with her own. “I know.” She grinned impishly, bending her head down to Florrie’s height. “And how exceedingly fortunate you are to have me.”
Florrie’s eyes grew wide in mock contempt. “Why, you arrogant little flower!”
Violet dodged the swing of Florrie’s silk bag, and their laughter caught the others’ attention. Violet ran to them with a squeal, lifting her skirts just enough, and Florrie gave chase, all four young women and the dog making a happy ruckus on the lawn.
Violet pushed down the leaden thought that though Wendy had longed to, she hadn’t stayed in Neverland.
Y
11 and 15
Violet peered into the study. Her father sat with his head bowed in his hands, his black armband ever-present, the tick of the longcase clock the only sound. “Father?”
He didn’t look up at the quiet approach of his only daughter. When she reached the desk, she placed her hand on the cold marble top. A shiver went through her. She’d seldom been in his study. “Father, will you come riding with me?”
Still, he didn’t raise his head. She bent her head lower to see his face. His eyes had squeezed shut, as if he were in pain.
“You used to ride with me. To see how my lessons were coming along. Remember? Jacks says I’m doing better now that I’m learning to ride with Knight instead of trying to force things. You always said—”
“Enough.” Father stood and turned his back to the desk, facing the family portrait hanging on the wall.
“Just a short ride? The vicar said riding was allowed so long as we—”
“Enough!”
Violet jumped at his harsh tone.
“Mrs. Dale! Where is that nanny?”
Violet glanced at the door, hoping Nanny would not yet enter. Though she was not so close to Father as Daniel had been, he’d still been kind to her and had at least taken an interest in her riding since she’d begun to learn. She skirted quickly around the desk and tugged at his sleeve. “Papa?”
He looked down at her and paused, as if she’d just appeared and he was noticing her for the first time.
They had the same color eyes and hair. Simple but powerful connections to this towering man.
She’d always believed, even in her eleven years, that at least those similarities would be reason enough for him to love her. To be proud of her.
“Will you go riding with me? Like we used to?”
His brow formed a V, and he shook his head. He took a breath, as if it were painful. “How can you ask me to do anything like we used to?” His voice was a scratch of wet rocks. “When my son is gone?”
Violet blinked in confusion. She knew Father was sad.
They were all sad. It had been a year since they’d lost her brother.
Nanny had called it a black anniversary.
Violet had wanted to help Father feel better, if only for a little while.
And riding was something they’d always done.
It was something just for her and Father.
But they’d stopped after Daniel had died. “I only mean to help.”
She heard a sound and realized Father was chuckling. Her heart lifted with hope.
He ran his large hands over his face and looked back at the portrait, still draped with black. At Daniel. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think?”
Heat rushed to the surface of her skin. She was old enough and smart enough to realize his laugh had not been hopeful; his words were targeted with shame.
A footman cleared his throat at the door. “You needed something, sir?”
“Escort her to the stables for her riding lesson.”
“Shall I have Jacks ready your horse as well, sir?”
“No. I will not be joining her. She will ride with Jacks from here on out.”
Violet stood still, not knowing what she could say to convince Father to join her, to not cast her aside. “Please, Papa? I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl.”
He turned his back, this time to the tall window. “What have I to do with a girl?” he murmured. “You are dismissed.”
Tears pricked her eyes. She opened her mouth to protest.
“Now!” he cried.
She jumped toward the door, nearly crashing into the footman, who jumped aside in time, and ran as hard and as fast as she could down the corridor.
She pulled on the front door and burst outside and down the stairs.
She skidded to a halt at the startled looks of Mrs. Burke and her son, Cyril, who’d just exited their carriage, little Ruby waiting to be helped down.
Without a word, she turned toward the woods and kept running.