Chapter 26 #2
“There will be every day after,” she promised him, giving a laugh that twisted into a gasp as he sank home once more.
Her head fell back, loose, and Alasdair mastered himself long enough to feel her draw up tight before she bit down on her wrist, muffling her final cries of pleasure.
Urgency and heat had been building inside of him, loosening at last, his body tensing before the unraveling, and Violet’s obvious delight was too much; he followed her off the precipice, cleaving her to his chest as he shivered and spent.
He rolled off of her quickly, gathering her to him as he went, sprawling her across the bellow of his chest while the world lost its blur, and the almost overwhelming relief dulled to something more bearable.
Violet was soon asleep on top of him, lulled to peace as he carded his fingers through her hair.
Knowing she needed the rest, Alasdair carefully slid her back down among the blankets, righted the pillows, saw to her comfort, and gathered his clothing.
He was clearheaded and straight-backed as he put on his spectacles and returned to his chambers, drew a bath, and dressed in clean garments.
His gaze lingered on the place where Violet’s self-portrait ought to be.
As soon as he left his chambers, Freddie was there, waiting for him.
“So,” Freddie snorted, crossing his arms. He looked terrible. Sleepless. Waxy. “One of us will marry a Richmond after all.”
It was tempting to look away, but Alasdair forced himself not to.
“Perhaps there should have been a longer conversation between you and I…I…Violet—Miss Arden—recounted to me some of the things Danforth said in his madness. All of it was for our mother. His devotion to her was his total undoing. We could have been better sons, but I will never say that his way was the right one. I thought myself better than him, but I put her feelings before yours. I hope you can forgive me, Freddie, I hope you will allow me the time to earn that forgiveness.”
Freddie’s eyes widened as he guffawed. “You? Apologizing to me? I never thought I would see the day! My God, but that feels incredible.”
“Then—”
“No, no, I don’t forgive you, not yet. I want to revel in this a while longer.
” Freddie shook his head and batted something invisible away.
“You were not all wrong—I’m not good enough for Emilia.
I don’t know how to be. I don’t…Without Father, without you, with Mother giving all of her attention to Danforth, I suppose I just thought I could live like nobody was looking, because nobody was. ”
“That will change, Freddie, I swear it. I’m here now, I’m looking.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, laughing shortly.
He shrugged, making himself yet more rumpled, and wandered away toward his own bedchamber.
“And you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve decided against the clergy.
It never suited me. No, I’ll train to be a solicitor.
Someone needs to help Finny protect art!
” Alasdair stifled his groan. His brother dashed down the hallway. “And then, I shall win back Emilia!”
His amusement at Freddie’s outburst was short-lived.
The next conversation to be had would not be so brief or so genial, he knew.
Lady Edith was not in her chair when Alasdair found her; instead, she was standing at the back window of the drawing room, staring out onto the wintry trees that reached with their bare and shrunken limbs toward the house.
“There is no need to look maudlin,” she told him, not turning away from the cold landscape. She was studying his reflection in the glass. “I know you will marry her. You are the man of this house, and I will be powerless to stop it.”
“Violet is not responsible for what my father did, nor should she be blamed for the unkind reactions of her aunt,” said Alasdair.
Compassion crept into his voice, for her despair was palpable.
“Whatever your opinion of her, she discovered Freddie’s unwitting involvement in the fires.
If she hadn’t, Freddie might be the one condemned for the crimes. Would that be better?”
Lady Edith shrank, her forehead skimming the window. The chill of the glass shocked her, and she pushed away from the wall. “John went too far.”
Alasdair waited for more, but she remained silent.
“Tomorrow, I will order all of the portraits of Sir Jonathan removed to London. If any are to make the transition to Clafton, that discussion can be had later. I will inform Gordon to draw up plans for a small chapel to be erected on the grounds; perhaps you can give him your thoughts on its design, too. Miss Arden has suffered terribly, and our wedding will be delayed until she feels at her best.”
Lady Edith turned around at the mention of the chapel, and he was somewhat gratified to see that his mother did not react viscerally to the mention of his wedding to Violet. It would have to be enough.
“I will try, Mother. It will not be easy, but I hope you will join me in the trying.”
He returned to Violet and found her drowsy but awake.
Supper would be brought to her; she would have whatever she needed.
Predictably, the next day, well-wishers from Pressmore and Beadle Cottage swarmed Sampson.
They came tentatively, perched a respectable distance up the drive as if terrified to trespass on forbidden ground; even Emilia was there, which struck him as a good portent.
Margaret and Winny Arden charged past him with nary a word, though the threat in Margaret’s eyes promised retribution if a single precious hair was out of place on Violet’s head.
They stayed to fuss over their sister for days, refusing to leave, though he dared not suggest otherwise.
Margaret in particular warmed to him when he promised, at length and with all due humility, that he would never let harm come to Violet again.
The threat in her eyes lingered, as was expected from a loving older sister.
Mrs. Mildred Richmond was not among the well-wishers, though she had sent a very pleasant card expressing her concern for what had transpired and extending a chilly yet polite invitation for the Kerrs to dine at Pressmore the following week.
Said card was presented to him as if he were being handed a holy relic.
Violet was stunned into five entire minutes of silence when given the card, so perhaps it really was a miracle of a kind. Once Violet recovered from her surprise, she flung her arms around Alasdair and kissed him and pronounced that they had done the impossible.