Chapter 20
“That is the third stitch you’ve removed.” Violet looked up from the half-finished christening blanket folded across her lap, one eyebrow lifting in quiet amusement.
“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”
“I noticed after the second,” she said smirking.
“I am distracted.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
Adelaide held up the tiny linen sleeve she’d been hemming and sighed dramatically. “I’ve reached the unfortunate conclusion that happiness makes one remarkably poor at needlework.”
Violet smiled to herself as she carefully knotted another length of thread. “I thought happiness was supposed to improve everything.”
“So did I.”
“It appears we’ve both been misled…”
The morning room overlooked the kitchen gardens, where sunlight settled warmly across neat rows of herbs and late-blooming flowers.
The windows had been thrown open against the lingering warmth of the season, allowing birdsong and the distant clatter of the stable yard to drift comfortably inside.
Between them sat a basket overflowing with garments requiring mending before winter, though Adelaide suspected they had spent nearly as much time talking as sewing.
Not that she minded. She waited until Violet had finished another seam before speaking again. “I’ve been wondering something.”
“Oh?”
“It concerns Theodore.”
Violet’s needle paused. “I suspected you might wonder about him. You’ve become very observant.”
“I’ve had excellent instruction.” Adelaide rested her elbows lightly against the table. “He has looked at you precisely as Eric has recently begun looking at me.”
Violet looked genuinely puzzled. “I’m not sure whether that should reassure or concern me.”
“I haven’t decided either.”
Silence stretched between them. Adelaide had learned long ago that Violet answered difficult questions only after she’d turned them over completely. At last she asked quietly, “Has he said anything?”
“No.”
“But…?”
“He scarcely notices when anyone else enters the room.”
That earned the faintest laugh. “I had noticed.”
“And?”
Violet lowered her work into her lap. “He is kind.”
“And?”
“He listens.”
“That he does,” Adelaide said quickly, eager to hear more.
“And he has never once presumed.”
Adelaide smiled. “I hear a great many admirable qualities.”
“So do I.”
“But?”
Violet looked toward the garden instead of answering immediately. “I loved my husband.”
The words settled softly between them. “He was the gentlest man I have ever known.”
Adelaide said nothing as Violet pulled a miniature from her bag and continued.
“We had very little.” A fond smile touched Violet’s face. But the face in the image was soft with youth, and the man in the miniature opposite her had Elise’s smile and a brightness in his features that a new husband would carry.
“Our cottage leaked whenever it rained. The roof listed to one side. We argued every spring over whether vegetables or flowers belonged nearest the door.”
“And who won?” Adelaide asked, while looking intently at her friend, whose soft edges had grown sharp by widowhood. It broke her heart that the woman in the miniature looked scarcely related to the woman who sat before her.
“He did, of course, ” Violet recalled with a hint of a soft smile on her lips.
“Really?”
“Really,” she said, laughing at the distant memory before returning to the room. “I planted flowers anyway, though.”
Adelaide laughed. “I suspected as much.”
“He never complained.” The smile lingered another moment before quietly fading. “We weren’t rich nor were we important.”
“You never wished to be?”
“I had been expected to when I was younger.”
That caught Adelaide’s attention. Violet spoke almost absently now, as though remembering someone else’s life. “There was… another future planned for me once.” She smoothed the fabric unnecessarily. “Quite a comfortable one, in fact.”
“And you refused it?”
“I chose love instead.” Violet started to say, and looked down at the simple, silver wedding band she still chose to wear. It had been worn smooth by years of use. “I’ve never regretted that choice. I’ve only regretted how little time we were given.”
Adelaide’s attention lingered on the ring before drifting, quite without permission, to Violet’s hands.
They were not the hands of a woman who had always worked for her living.
The calluses were there now, certainly, and two fingers bore the tiny scars of needles and kitchen knives, but beneath them remained something oddly delicate in their shape.
It was a ridiculous observation, but still, Adelaide found herself asking, “Where did you grow up?”
Violet’s fingers stopped against the linen. “Here and there.”
“That sounds suspiciously like no answer at all.”
“It is the only interesting one I possess. Before Talbot House, I hadn’t felt like any place was home… not really, anyway.” Violet smiled when she said it, but Adelaide had known her too long not to recognize the evasion.
She let the matter go aloud, but privately, she stored it away. Next to the memory of the cliffs.
Adelaide reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You needn’t tell me more.”
Violet’s grateful smile answered her. “There isn’t much I wish to remember.”
“What about Theodore?” The question came gently, and Violet drew a slow breath.
“I trust him. I know he’s… good.”
Adelaide nodded. “So why keep him at arm’s length?”
Violet’s expression grew thoughtful. “Because goodness doesn’t change the law.”
Adelaide frowned. “What do you mean?”
“A husband may be the kindest man in England.” She turned the wedding band once around her finger. “He is still given power no wife can ever reclaim.” Her words carried no bitterness. “I have built this life myself.”
Her gaze wandered briefly toward the doorway where Elise’s laughter echoed faintly from somewhere farther down the corridor. “I answer to no one.”
“And you’re afraid to lose that?”
“I’m afraid to lose myself.”
Adelaide understood perhaps more than Violet realized, but before she could answer, hurried footsteps pattered down the hallway. “Mama!”
Elise burst into the room carrying a doll missing one shoe. She climbed into Violet’s lap with complete confidence born of long practice. “What are you talking about?”
“Important things.”
“What important things?”
Violet brushed a curl away from her daughter’s forehead. “Grown-up things.”
“Is it about Dada?” Elise considered her suspiciously. The question landed so unexpectedly that neither woman answered immediately. Elise looked between them and nodded. “I miss him today.”
“So do I.” Violet’s arms tightened almost imperceptibly around her. The little girl rested her head beneath her mother’s chin. “He would’ve liked Wolverton.”
“He would’ve really liked Bramble. Don’t you think, Mama?”
“I think he certainly would.”
Adelaide reached over to smooth the child’s curls. “And do you know what else?”
“What?”
“He would be very proud of the remarkable young lady you’re becoming.”
Elise looked unconvinced. “Really?”
“I know it.”
“And so do I .” Violet kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “There has never been anyone else quite like you.”
Elise smiled shyly. “Does that make me the best?”
“Let’s not be conceited,” Violet warned gently, and brushed her fingers through her hair.
“What’s that?”
“It means you think you’re better than everyone else.”
“Did you not just say I was?”
“No, my dove… Adelaide said you are unique. That does not mean that you are more important than anyone else, but you are different in a remarkable and memorable way.”
“Okay, M ama…” the girl’s face twisted slightly, as if the weight of her mother’s words had slammed into her unexpectedly and the only way she could find her next breath was going to be through tears. But Violet scooped her up and gave her a tight squeeze.
“You will always be my girl, and I will always love you. You are a good person, okay?”
Elise swiped at her eyes and sniffled but nodded her head.
“Don’t be upset, my dove. Mama is not mad at you, neither is Adelaide. Be strong and be happy. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, M ama,” Elise said shakily.
Adelaide gently nudged her shoulder. “Besides, before your lessons begin, I believe I am expecting one very clever little girl who promised yesterday she’d finish her pages of the letters ‘S’ and ‘T’ without a single ink blot.”
Elise gasped, tears and sadness immediately gone. “Oh! I forgot!”
“I suspected you might have,” she said and smiled.
The child scrambled down from Violet’s lap, clutching her doll under one arm. “I’ll have it done by the time you arrive in the classroom!”
“I have every confidence you shall.”
She disappeared almost as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving the room noticeably quieter. And for a long moment, neither woman returned to her sewing. Instead, they watched the doorway where she’d vanished.
Violet smiled first. “I sometimes wonder how something so small can leave such a large silence behind.”
***
The little classroom had quickly become Adelaide’s favorite room in Wolverton.
It had once been a forgotten morning parlor overlooking the east gardens, its shelves nearly bare and its windows seldom opened. Now maps of England rested against one wall beside slates, copybooks, and stacks of borrowed volumes that seemed forever to migrate into untidy piles.
Elise’s careful handwriting covered several pages spread across the desk to dry, while a vase of late summer wildflowers sat crookedly beside the window, arranged with more enthusiasm than symmetry.
“Why should girls learn geography?” Adelaide asked.
Elise frowned. “So we don’t get lost?”
Adelaide laughed. “A very practical answer.”
“Is it wrong?”
“Not at all. But I also think every little girl ought to know the size of the world before anyone tells them how small they’re expected to be.”
“And so we don’t have to rely on boys to tell us where to go.”
Adelaide laughed at that answer. “No, no, Elise—we all need someone to give us directions. Man or woman. We’ve got to be open to learning from everyone we meet.”
“Oh! I like learning new things though. Especially from Eric. He knows so much.”