Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“ S he has told you all she can!” Grandmother’s shrill voice echoed through the halls. The staff scurrying about to act as if they were not eavesdropping.
“Now Sophia, we were only asking your granddaughter what we needed to know.” The officer tried to soothe.
“And I am reiterating that she was not with a male. She was attacked in her own home. Look at her bruises!” Grandmother’s hands waved wildly at where I sat on the chair in the dining hall. My hair was still wet and dripping down onto the dress they rushed to put me in, my foot bouncing on the ground with pent up nerves. Something I had done for years every time I was nervous.
“Vespera, is that the truth?” The officer finally looked at me standing beside the door frame, scepticism in his eyes.
“Yes. I was alone. I intended to remain alone.” My voice was soft. The officer shook his head, dark curls swaying with the motion. I trained my gaze on my hands twisting in my lap.
“Thank you. We will move to question the staff.” He started before pushing past Grandmother.
She lowered herself before me, kneeling as she took my hands in hers.
“My sweet winter child, I am so sorry,” She whispered, her soft eyes searching my near lifeless ones. The attacker drained me of any energy I had to spare so I sat in silence. My eyes prickled as she ran her thumbs over my hands, lip quivering at the tenderness in her touch. A sob heaved in my heavy chest the sound rushed out of me like a broken instrument.
“Oh my sweet girl!” Grandmother’s voice rang out as she embraced me, catching me as I fell to meet her open arms.
As curious as I was with death, this was not the end I had thought of for myself. I didn’t want to end up slaughtered like my ancestors or stolen in the dead of night. Chills roamed over my body as if cold hands danced over my skin. My head was pounding, the feeling of anxiety rushed through my freezing form. I wasn’t fated to go like this. Not yet anyway. How could I die when I hadn’t gotten my colour? I was almost sure a Florian had seen their colour throughout our lineage and then died suddenly and often horrifically. I hadn’t seen colour. I couldn’t go just yet. I was safe. Was it not? I had come to believe my home was the safest in the world. But maybe I was wrong.
The feeling of their hands on me still burned deep into my flesh. Grandmother was alerted the moment the maid left the room. A server being forced to rush into town to get the police and alert Uncle Arthur who was yet to appear.
Grandmother apologised over and over as I sobbed into her embrace. Who would do this? What had I done to make someone attack me?
The sound of the front door opening caused my blood to run cold every fibre of my being freezing at the interruption. Have they come back to finish me off?
Two sets of heavy footfalls hurried toward the dining hall. Grandmother turned quickly standing before me as if to protect me from another attack. I stood behind her, a good head taller than the frail woman.
“We came as soon as we heard.” Arthur grunted as he entered the hall. Grandmother stepped aside allowing him to come closer to me.
I shied away from his touch. I couldn’t bear the thought of another person's hands on me so soon.
My attention caught behind where he stood frozen to the spot. Unsure of why I had shied away from him. Victor looked at me with wild eyes.
“Why are you both here?” Grandmother demanded.
“We came to see if Vespera was safe.” Victor spoke first.
“We came to stay. You will need protection and I presumed it would be better to have two men than just one,” Arthur pressed.
I could feel the concern roll off the woman before me. I didn’t say a word, choosing to push past them as they bickered about having too many people surrounding me. The new maid lingered beyond the doorway. Her terrified eyes met mine a million apologies falling from her plump lips. Her smooth pale hair a mess around her shoulders. As if pulled amongst her realisation of the situation she had just gotten herself into. I could only imagine the plethora of emotions she must be feeling. What a lovely welcome for her to Florain Manor.
“What is your name?” I managed to ask keeping my voice as level as I could.
“Rosemary. But my family calls me Mary,” She said softly, fearful of my reaction. I nodded, holding the name to memory.
“May I call you Mary also?” I crossed my hands in front of me.
“Of course, my lady. You can call me whatever you please.” She smiled. The anxiety leaving her quickly. I nodded once it was too hard to smile at that moment.
“Will you escort me up to my rooms to prepare for bed?”
She accepted eagerly, a warm smile still spread on her face. Leading me up the stairs. Her hands clasped in front of her.
I sat in silence as she dressed me in my sleep gown and brushed my damp hair, weaving it into a tight braid.
Mary didn’t say a word, content in her own silence.
She couldn’t have been no older than I was. Her skin still tinged with that youthful glow. Whereas mine grew lifeless in the reflection of the dressing table looking glass. My appearance now dull with exhaustion. A ring of bruises lined my neck and forehead. The police believe it was a man who attacked me due to the strength of the attack but I wasn't so sure. The thing that attacked me was no short of the devil himself in clothing. A man of nothing but darkness.
“I’ll fetch you a cup of tea to aid your sleep, Lady Florian,” Mary said gently as she left the room.
The fear of being alone crept over me. What if the attacker came back? What if they never left? Maybe the police had missed a room when they searched. My heart began to race once more, my breathing coming in short. I tightened my gown around me. Throwing the door open I hurried into the hall, my mouth opened to call for Mary when I collided with a hard chest. A scream lodged itself in my throat, the scent of oakmoss tingling my nose.
“It’s only me.” Victor’s voice rang out. My chest heaved up and down as I drew breath. Swallowing my scream. I wrapped my arms around him. Not knowing what I was doing or why I was seeking this stranger's comfort. His warmth poured into me, sinking deep into my skin. The feeling making me want to curl tighter into his embrace.
“Shh.” He soothed. “It’s only me. I’m here.” I held him tighter, as if he could scare the monster away.
His delicate hand moved from my spine to my hair. Smoothing it as he held me close.
“I’m here. No one will hurt you now.” And somehow despite myself, I chose to believe him.
My eyes stung the moment I opened them as the morning light poured in from the windows. Whatever herb Mary had slipped into my tea had put me to sleep in minutes. I pulled myself out of bed, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Was it all a nightmare? Did I imagine the whole thing? Did I imagine the strange man holding me until he disappeared like smoke?
I moved to the dresser. The looking glass reflected back my broken appearance. The bruises standing out against my stark pale skin. My light eyes haunted, dark circles lining the sunken skin underneath. Slowly, I raised a hand to feel my throat. My fingers glided over the skin. Whoever it was wanted to watch as the light left my eyes. I didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that they saw me free of clothing. I shuddered at the thought, disgust coiled in the pit of my stomach.
A brief knock hit the door three times, softly as if not wanting to wake me. I ripped my hand away from my throat, embarrassed at being caught in a moment of weakness.
“Come in,” I called. Trying to mask my inner fear as best as I could. My voice still sounding strained.
Victor stood in the doorway, his hair dishevelled an aura of sleep still hanging over him.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” He said softly, a smile on his lips.
“As opposed to dead in my bed?” My attempt at humour fell flat. Victor’s features dropped brow furrowing.
“Why would I wish you to be dead in your bed?”
“Never mind.” I waved a hand, shaking his concern off. Victor frowned deeper but stepped forward.
“Lady Sophia thought it may be a good idea for you to distract yourself. She suggested you garden this afternoon.”
I slumped my shoulders. I hadn’t tended to my private garden outside in a long while.
“The flowers would be dried out or overgrown with weeds.”
“We can venture into town. I’ll buy you more.”
“Victor, that is too much-”
“Nothing is ever too much. Not for you, Vespera.” He cut me off with his sweet words. My heart warmed at the sound of them as did my cheeks. Despite all I was feeling, the thought of his kindness gave me the briefest sense of hope. Hope that not all was lost on humanity.
“Grandmother wouldn’t allow me to leave the manor after last night.” I smiled before reaching up to undo my tangled braid. The hair still damp from how tight Mary had wove it.
“I think that would be a rather fine idea! It would be safer than being here.” The lady of the house called from somewhere down the hall.
“Get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Victor’s grin widened. I returned the bright smile before looking in the mirror, hoping my expression was believable.
Was he the one who attacked me last night? The thought hit me like a lead brick. Surely not. He was sweet. I cocked a brow as I took in my reflection. I would find out more about Victor. I had to. Curling my hair into a knot, I selected the sharpest hairpin I could and poked it through.
One thing was for certain though. No one would touch me again. I wasn’t sure I would survive another attack. But I wouldn't go without a fight.
My dark skirts swayed as I hurried down the hall and passed the spare bathing room. A shudder ran through my spine at the memory.
Victor stood waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase. The dark stone almost the same shade of grey as my dress.
Victor took my arm and led me through the front doors.
We journeyed into town in comfortable silence. The only breaker being the sound of stones crunching under the carriage's wheels.
I gazed out the window as we passed, watching with curiosity. The Florian Manor’s black carriage was a rare sight as it was, let alone with myself and a male my age inside.
I could only imagine the gossip the town would spread. No doubt it would be heard even to the palace in London. Queen Victoria herself would most likely hear of it too.
Victor’s gaze however was solely focused on me. A smile playing on his lips. I quirked a brow and his smile broadened into a full grin.
“What are you looking at?” I narrowed my gaze. Hoping my hair hadn’t fallen from the braided knot on my neck.
I didn’t like bonnets. Useless things. Thank the lord Grandmother agrees too and refused to put me one. I didn't care for hats either. Although maybe I should have invested in one to hide the bruise on my forehead. I noted the idea for a later trip.
“You just have the most beautiful blue eyes.”
I withheld the urge to roll the “beautiful” eyes. I noted the colour he mentioned despite myself. Wondering what that colour would be. Was it beautiful? Or was it as plain as the rest of me? I wondered what other things were blue. Were Grandmother’s eyes blue? I was told they were the same as mine but I could never remember the colour they say.
“Thank you,” I said small, my hands twisting in my skirts. “I like yours too.”
Victor smiled, accepting my bluff. I turned back to the glass window.
I truly hoped this man wasn’t going to try to woo me. I was content in my colourless world. But I had an inkling that even if I married him, my world would still be lifeless.
The carriage came to a halt outside of an old building now covered in dirt and grime. Where was the owner? He would have never allowed his garden store to fall to pieces.
The dark facade of the building now splattered with dirt and dust. I held my nose as I exited the carriage. The overpowering stench of the town further reminded me why I hated this place.
Victor’s arm snaked through mine. A warm expression on his face. I inhaled as sharply as my corset would allow. Willing the air to calm me at his touch. Grandmother said the first time Grandfather has touched her, the gift of colour arrived. Whilst Victor’s hand was bare against my long sleeves, I fretted my lip in nerves. Making a mental note to not allow him to touch my skin. The door swung open with the ring of a bell.
“Ahh, Vespera! It has been such a long time.” Donovan’s deep voice called from the doorway.
“Good day Donovan!” I called as I approached.
“I thought you had forgone your garden with how long it’s been.” He teased, his wide eyes sparkling, Irish accent as thick as ever.
“I would never forgive myself if I did.” I managed to force out. It wasn’t a lie. I did feel bad for not resuming gardening as passionately since father had left but the words felt like ash on my tongue.
“Then you must come.” He ushered us in. Victor said nothing but remained silent as I led him down into the small store.
The scent of blossoms and dirt swirled into my nose. The smell feeling like a home I could only dream of, pure unfiltered bliss. Although I couldn’t see the colour, I was still able to create a work of wonder within the blooms.
Donovan was the only person outside of the family who didn’t shy away when I approached. He was always the one to support my craft. Never once judging my use of unusual colours of blooms. Always just watching with an approving smile.
“I assume you need a restock?” He called from behind his large wooden counter. The walls around him were full of every seed variant possible and bloom of every plant kind there was. I preferred flowers. I loved the texture of petals against my skin when I wandered the garden.
“Yes please. All my usual seeds.” I smiled, watching as the large Irishman moved around the store selecting my seeds for after winter. There was no use planting them now. But I could still plant some in the greenhouse.
“Do you like to garden?” Victor said.
“I have since I was a child.” I smiled, the memory of my mothers hands guiding mine as she helped me plant my first gardenia. The briefest memory of her scent came over me. Paint and indigo.
Victor said something but I paid him no mind. Moving to look at more bushes in terracotta pots. Donovan eyed Victor as he admired the store. An expression of wariness crossing his face. I said nothing, taking note of the strange interaction.
Donovan continues to talk about the new exhibition in a garden he had seen in London and even offered to take me when he goes. It was a dream to visit the Queen's garden one day. But that was all it could be. A sweet dream. Victor stiffened by my side.
“I would love to accompany you and your wife on your next trip. If Dorian was there as well of course.” The words left my mouth quickly. As if trying to show Victor that Donovan had no romantic interest in me. A warmth flooded my cheeks. What was I saying? Why would Victor care about that?
I didn’t really like light haired men. It was always the dark featured men that caught my attention.
“But of course.” Donovan beamed, endless pride bloomed from him when his daughter was mentioned.
For years, she has been my only comfort outside of the manor. Years spent growing in the store together and making an absolute riot of the town. We were the same age when we met. Two outcast children. The townspeople gossiped about her just as much as they did about me and our antics. Dorian was not entirely sane by their standards. Always talking to herself and rushing around, seeing things no one else could and glimpses of what she called the future.
Paying for the seeds, I left the small shop. Eager to visit my friend to discuss the trip.