Chapter 18 #2
When the orchestra delivered their song list for her to look over, she had every single song played for her, several times. Then she tried to picture the mood, the timing, even going so far as to reorder several of the songs.
Even something as simple as the candles became a task unto itself. She spent hours testing out the lighting, making changes, ordering more only to realize that less was what they needed.
And on and on it went.
The days dragged on, and closer came the main event so that when Violet was told that it was just three days away, she went into a panic.
“That cannot be right!” she cried at Rose, who told her the information. It was late in the evening, and Violet had been hunched over her writing desk, furiously scribbling away at something that she could not even say what it was, such was the state of her mind.
“Three days, Violet,” Rose repeated. “But I am not concerned about the ball. It is you who I am worried about.”
“Me?” Violet blinked through her blurred eyes. “What does that mean?”
“Look at yourself!” Rose cried. “You are a mess. I have never seen you so utterly disheveled. When was the last time that you slept?”
“I can sleep later.”
Rose snorted. “When you drop dead, which will be the case if you do not take a day off.”
“A day off?” Violet laughed hysterically. “How nice that might be. But I do not have the time.”
“You do,” Rose told her. “You just do not wish to use it appropriately. Have you considered—and do not lose your mind, please—but have you considered asking for help?”
Violet felt a cold ripple up her body at that word. Then it plunged through her, roiling her stomach so that she thought she might be sick.
Help? Is she serious? I do not need help. I can do this myself!
“I do not need help,” she said with a sneer that she did not mean. “I am perfectly capable on my own.”
“But you are not on your own,” Rose pleaded. “What of His Grace? He has helped, has he not? I am sure that if you ask him, he will happily assist you.”
“He has not…” She grimaced, unable to finish that thought because it felt wrong. “He has assisted in small ways, but he has not helped. I do not need it.”
“You do from where I am standing.”
It was unfair, but Violet was struck by a sudden burst of anger. For most of her life, she had done things herself, never needing help—never being offered it! And that was for a good reason too. Only she knew what needed to be done, and she could not trust anyone else.
“I am fine, Rose.” Violet turned back to her work. “Now, please leave me alone. I am busy.”
“Violet—“
“Please, Rose,” Violet cut over her; her head was bowed, and she was back to working. “Thank you.”
Violet felt Rose watching her. She felt her sister’s concern and worry. And while Violet did feel somewhat guilty about having snapped at her, she refused to apologize. She should not have to! After all that she had done, Rose ought to have known better than suggesting that Violet needed help.
I can do this… I am better off on my own.
So it was that Violet was left to her work. The hour was late, the lighting was dim, and her eyelids were heavy. She yawned… she stretched… she felt her eyes close… she opened them… shook her head… yawned again… and then slowly, without meaning to, rested her head on the table.
Only for a second. A few minutes to rest. And then, she would get back to work…
Violet woke the following morning to the feeling of sunlight on her face.
“Oh!” She sat up with a start, confused for a moment, only to remember what she had been doing. “Oh, no!” She looked down at her work and gasped to see that her notes were gone.
Panic overtook her, and she was on her feet and racing from the room. She needed to find her work, and she needed to get back to it. The ball was days away! There simply was not time! How had she let this happen?”
“Violet…” The call came from an open door that she was rushing past.
Violet came to a sudden halt, realizing that it was the doorway to Rhys’ office. So frazzled was she that she had not even noticed where she was going.
“Can you come in here for a moment?” he asked her.
She did not want to. She had so much to do! But there was a firmness in Rhys’ request, and she figured that the least she could do was see him. He had been treating her rather nicely, after all.
Violet slunk into his office. Rhys sat behind his desk, a straight back, hands folded on the table. And when he looked at her, it was with clear concern. He was worried about her, and she knew the reason…
“How did you sleep?” he asked her.
“Very well,” she said with caution. “I… I needed it. But I feel well rested now, much more myself again.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You do not look it.”
She grimaced, aware of how tragic she must have appeared. Messy hair. Crinkled clothes. And she was mortified to picture how sunken her face must have looked, the bags under her eyes.
“Did you need something?” she asked, desperate to end this conversation so that she could bathe and then get back to work.
“Rose came and saw me last night,” he began. “She told me of your… conversation.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Mostly, she was worried about you.”
‘Which I told her was not necessary. I am fine.”
“Is that why you fell asleep at your desk?” he said. “I came to see you and was not at all surprised to find you passed out. You have been working so hard, Violet. More than is necessary.”