Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
Ormdale
“Got everything you need?” Una asked, trying to keep her voice light.
Violet had set up her own little camp for the night in the Drake-Forresters’ paddock.
It took all Una’s strength of will not to grab her sister and rush them both indoors.
Everything she had learned from her governess about evening damps and miasmas sang in her head like the chorus in a Greek tragedy.
But Violet, gloriously indifferent as always to cautionary tales, had determined it would be a full moon tonight, and that this would be the perfect time for kindling to flame whatever embers might remain of the bond between Violet and Elfed.
“Yes, I’ve got everything,” Violet said happily, swathed in the old great coat that Gwendolyn used to wear.
Una vividly remembered Gwendolyn running down wyverns at night to stop them picking off the spring lambs in the days before the menagerie was built. Their oldest sister had gone about any and all dragon business quite grim-jawed and determined, but Violet’s eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed.
Perhaps she was feverish.
Una handed her sister a hot water bottle and a pillow, then she shook out a muffler and wound it round Violet’s head.
“Una,” warned Violet, “I’m not used to being kept in cotton wool.”
“Am I smothering you?” Una said.
“Horribly.”
“Sorry,” said Una, stepping back in embarrassment.
Elfed was watching them both, his legs folded under him and his wings furled.
Cariad had been put to bed in the stables for the night so she wouldn’t interfere with whatever was going on.
Elfed wasn’t quite so intimidating when he was lying down, Una reflected, though she didn’t like the look of that sharp facial horn.
Una was only thankful that she was not expected to form a relationship with a massive creature like this.
Oolong was just the right size for her, fitting nicely in her lap while she drank a cup of tea by the fire and did a jigsaw (which she would far prefer to be doing at that moment).
Violet spread a waterproof picnic blanket next to him, talking softly all the while, and settled herself against Elfed’s side.
Elfed snorted warm air over her head, nuzzling at it and disarranging the muffler as if looking for her amongst the wrappings.
Violet chuckled with pleasure. Then Elfed dropped his head and shut his double-lidded eyes.
Violet gave a contented sigh. Una resisted the urge to smooth down her hair, which was now mussed in every direction, and probably also decorated with a fine mist of dragon saliva.
“What if he tosses you off again tomorrow?” Una asked.
“He won’t,” Violet said firmly.
“Will you stop if he does?” Una said.
“No,” Violet said.
Una felt her shoulders sag a little as Violet fell again in her memory, a puppet with cut strings.
Violet patted the waterproof picnic blanket. “Sit down for a bit.”
Una sat on the picnic blanket near Violet but not touching her.
“Thanks,” Violet said quietly.
“Thank you for helping me—yesterday—with the quetzal,” Una said.
“I don’t think you really needed me,” Violet said. “You’re all grown up now. Do you remember the doll I made you?”
“You mean Poppet?” Una asked.
Violet nodded. “You hated it, didn’t you?”
“No! I—“ Una stopped herself. “Yes. I did. I had nightmares about it for weeks. You knew?”
“Why do you think I dropped it in the river?” Violet shook her head. “I should have let Pip help me with it like he wanted to. Good old Pip! Funny, he’s quite the dark horse now, isn’t he?”
“Pip? Yes, London was beastly for him.” Una was seized with a thought. “Violet, do you know anything about Pip’s paternity?”
Violet got a funny look on her face. “You mean—aside from the old rumour about him being Father’s?”
“I’ve been wondering…” Una began. “Do you think he could have been Percy’s?”
Violet took off her shoes. “Percy’s? Does it really matter whether Pip’s related to us or not? It’s not as if either of us would go for him as a beau, being brought up like brother with us as he was.”
“Goodness, no!” Una exclaimed. “No. It doesn’t matter to me—not a bit. But it matters terribly to him. And who else could his father be? There was never any talk of Lily walking out with anyone from the village.”
Violet looked at Una. “Awful things happen to girls in this world. There mightn’t have been any walking out. If you know what I mean.”
Una blinked. “You mean—“
“I mean Lily mayn’t have had any choice in the matter. Even if it was Percy.” Violet gave a shudder. “Let’s not talk of it—it makes me sick.”
Una suddenly felt ill herself. Perhaps she should go find Pip now. She hadn’t seen much of him lately, and she had never got the keys back from him. There was always so much to do!
“I should go,” Una said, pushing herself up.
“Stay?” Violet asked quickly, a hand catching Una’s skirt.
Una hesitated. There were those evening damps to contend with, and she was tired, and longed for a quiet night in her own room with Oolong.
But Violet’s brown eyes were strangely uncertain, and she dropped her hand quickly, as if she was afraid she’d damage Una with a simple touch.
What had Una said just the day before?
Staying is what people do for each other.
Una considered the consequences. Oolong, she knew, would be quite happy in his basket in the warm kitchen for the night. He wasn’t at risk of catching his death.
But if Una and Violet were both carried away by fever or influenza—like the mother Una could not remember—what would happen then, she mused?
Perhaps Cousin Edith was right and after everything fell apart for a time, somebody would put it back together.
Aunt Emily would come home from the seaside and Cousin George would come home from Africa.
Between them and everyone else, the menagerie would go on eventually—without her.
“Pass me that hot water bottle, then,” Una said, with a silent, fervent prayer of protection against the evil spirits of the evening air.