Chapter 18
Adelaide had begun to suspect that the surest way to untangle one’s thoughts was to keep one’s hands occupied.
The morning had settled into a quiet rhythm. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the small sitting room she had quietly claimed for herself, warming the faded carpet and the basket of mending laid between the chairs.
Somewhere farther down the corridor, Elise recited multiplication tables with determined confidence to whichever unfortunate servant had wandered too close, while the open window carried the distant sounds of horses moving lazily through the stable yard.
Violet threaded another needle with practiced ease.
“I believe,” Adelaide said, studying a tear in one of Eric’s riding gloves rather than the woman beside her, “I have become exactly the sort of woman I once pitied.”
Violet smiled without looking up. “Have you?”
“I fear so.”
“What dreadful fate has befallen you?”
“I have begun making excuses for my husband.” Adelaide sighed with theatrical misery.
Violet laughed softly. “I expected something considerably worse.”
“You should not encourage me.” Adelaide pushed the needle carefully through the leather before shaking her head.
“I used to think women entirely responsible whenever they overlooked a gentleman’s faults. Now I seem incapable of remembering half of Eric’s.”
“That sounds suspiciously like affection.”
“It’s more like poor judgment.”
Violet lifted an eyebrow. “Does it?”
“It is ridiculous,” Adelaide admitted with a laugh that held more surrender than amusement. “Only a month ago I counted every conversation with him as though I were surviving a trial. Now I discover I notice whether he’s eaten, whether he’s sleeping enough, whether he looked tired after breakfast.”
She threaded another careful stitch before continuing.
“Yesterday I caught myself setting aside a volume in the library because I thought he would enjoy reading it. Then I realized I was smiling over a book before I had even reached his study.”
Violet watched her quietly.
“I never intended to become the sort of wife who waits for footsteps in the corridor,” Adelaide confessed. “Yet every evening I seem to know exactly which ones belong to him.”
Violet’s smile could not be hidden at this point, and Adelaide rested the glove in her lap before she continued. “I cannot determine when it happened.”
“The affection?”
She nodded. “It certainly wasn’t our first meeting. I was convinced he was the most overbearing man in England.”
“I remember.”
“He… improved.”
“So did your opinion.”
Adelaide smiled faintly before the smile slipped away again. “I thought friendship would be enough.”
The admission surprised even herself. She stared down at the neat row of stitches she’d already finished. “When we married, I believed I could be content with mutual respect. It seemed… sensible.”
“And now?”
She hesitated. “Now I find myself looking for him whenever I enter a room.”
The words sounded absurd spoken aloud.
She hurried on before embarrassment could overtake her.
“When he is absent, I notice it. When something amusing happens, I immediately think how much he would enjoy hearing it. If he seems troubled…” She paused, searching for language that did not make her sound entirely foolish. “I find I cannot settle until I know why.”
Adelaide continued quietly.
“I told myself for weeks that I merely admired him. Then I convinced myself I pitied him. Now I suspect I have simply been inventing increasingly elaborate names for the same feeling.”
A thoughtful silence settled between them, and when Adelaide finally looked up, Violet was watching her with an expression she could not quite decipher.
“I am glad,” Violet said at last.
Adelaide tilted her head at the gentleness of her friend’s tone. “You don’t sound glad.”
“I am.”
“You sound worried.”
Violet lowered her eyes to the linen in her lap. “I only…” She smiled apologetically. “I only hope he proves worthy of it.”
“He has.”
“I know,” Violet said quickly, but the answer came so quickly that Adelaide almost missed it.
Since arriving at Wolverton, Violet had smiled often enough, laughed when Elise demanded it, and thrown herself into her duties as she always had.
Still, there were moments when Adelaide caught her gazing toward the older wing of the house before quickly looking away. Or when footsteps echoed unexpectedly in the corridor and Violet stiffened before recovering so swiftly Adelaide questioned whether she had imagined it.
“You’ve found this move more difficult than you admit.”
Violet looked up. “What makes you say that?”
“You are forever telling me I notice more than I realize.”
“I do say that.”
“So allow me the same privilege.”
She set aside the glove and reached across to squeeze her friend’s wrist. “If there is anything that would make this place feel more like home, you need only tell me.”
“There isn’t.”
“You answered far too quickly.”
“I am merely tired.” Violet laughed.
“From unpacking?”
“From… walking.”
Adelaide frowned. “Walking?”
“In London, everything stood practically on one’s doorstep. Here…” She gestured vaguely toward the windows. “One must cross half a county merely to discover the kitchens.”
That earned a genuine laugh. “I shall petition to move the kitchen closer.”
“I’m sure the cook would be delighted.”
Their laughter faded comfortably. After another few stitches, Adelaide spoke again. “He told me about his sister…”
Violet’s needle stopped. “He did?”
“He has never told anyone before, though the story is known, of course… It just seemed different from his point of view.” Adelaide looked thoughtfully toward the window. “I think he believed she would have liked me.”
A quiet smile touched her face as she continued. “He said we reminded him of each other.”
Violet stifled a laugh then and immediately covered her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize.” Adelaide was smiling now. “I had almost forgotten what your genuine laugh sounded like.”
Violet’s eyes glistened. “I suppose that was rather inappropriate.”
“It was delightful.” She studied her friend with fresh curiosity. “But the stranger thing is that…”
“What?”
“The more he described her…” Adelaide frowned thoughtfully. “… the more she reminded me of you.”
Violet blinked. “The description of his sister reminded you of me? How?”
The name lingered unexpectedly in Adelaide’s thoughts. “Yes, just the things he told me he remembered of her. I think I would have treated her as my friend, as I have done to you. That is probably why my mind instantly made that connection.”
She remembered Eric speaking it with such careful tenderness. “You know,” Adelaide laughed humorlessly, “you both wrinkle your nose when you’re thinking.”
Violet looked alarmed. “I cannot be the only woman in the world who wrinkles some part of my face when I’m lost in thought… in fact, I know I am not .” She made a pointed glance back at Adelaide and a sly smirk played at the corners of her mouth.
“I do no such thing.”
“You absolutely do!” Violet continued, fully smiling then. “There are times when Mrs. Graves clicks her tongue when she is displeased and the cook whistles when he is sneaking a taste of the desserts.”
Adelaide found herself chuckling then. “I am just saying… maybe it is normal or maybe it is a coincidence.”
Violet lowered her eyes to her sewing once more, though she was still smiling and shaking her head. “I suppose grief preserves strange little things. Happy, little things.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
Violet’s answer came almost as a whisper. “Sometimes the smallest memories survive when the larger ones refuse.”
Adelaide looked at her curiously. “You’ve thought about that before.”
Violet recovered with practiced ease. “Perhaps widowhood teaches one such things.”
“Perhaps.”
Adelaide tilted her head.
“You and he both have the same dreadful habit of finishing other people’s sentences as well .”
Violet looked up incredulously only to find the look on Adelaide’s face clearly conveyed her comment was made in jest. Both of them laughed again. “ Count me in with all of the impatient people in this world.”
Adelaide found herself wondering, for the briefest moment, Eric’s sister must have been quite lovely… I wish I could have met her. The thought lingered only a heartbeat before a brisk knock sounded against the open door.
Theodore appeared carrying two books beneath one arm. “I’ve been searching everywhere for—”
He stopped short of his next step as his eyes landed on Violet and seemingly beca me fully focused on her.
Adelaide leaned back slowly. “Oh dear.”
Theodore blinked. “What?”
“I believe you’ve misplaced your purpose.”
“I most certainly have not.”
“You’ve forgotten why you came.”
“I remember perfectly.”
“Then do tell us.” He finally looked at Adelaide, and then back at Violet. “…I t’ll return in a moment.”
Adelaide folded her arms. “I see.”
Violet lowered her head, unsuccessfully concealing a smile, and Theodore cleared his throat. Neither action was missed by Adelaide
“I was merely wondering whether you wished to… ” He frowned. “… to… ”
“It was something terribly important, I’m sure,” she teased, watching the scene play out in front of her.
“The thing is—I’ve absolutely no idea what I was about to say…”
Adelaide laughed. “How unfortunate for us all.” She gathered her sewing basket and rose. “Hopeless.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I can imagine.”
“Fortunately, I have pressing business elsewhere.”
“You do?”
“I do now.”
Theodore watched suspiciously. “Right at this moment?”
“I have no notion what you are implying by asking that question.” She paused beside Violet, leaning down just enough to murmur, “Try not to encourage him too much.”
Violet’s cheeks warmed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“No?”
“No.”
Adelaide looked between them once more. Neither appeared capable of looking directly at the other for more than a second. Satisfied, she quietly slipped from the room.
Before the door closed completely, she peered back into the room. Theodore had chosen a seat right next to Violet and picked up Adelaide’s abandoned mending.