Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER
THIRTY - SEVEN
Violet was about to leave the house for Miss Wynter’s flat on Monday morning, when Anna, Lucinda’s maid, stopped her.
‘Miss Violet? What are these? They are starting to smell.’
Using a pair of laundry tongs, Anna was holding up a bundle of clothes. Violet recognised the jeans.
‘Oh, Anna! Felicity fell in a lot of mud over the weekend and her clothes are ruined. If you could let me have the jeans, I’ll wash them for her, but she doesn’t care about the other things. Especially not the jacket.’
‘Mm,’ said Anna. ‘Mud can be removed. I’ll wash the jeans for you too, if you like, and give them back.’
‘That would be extremely kind!’
‘And what about this?’ Now it was Oliver’s finds bag being held up, between finger and thumb this time.
‘That’s Felicity’s. Thank you so much, Anna. I’m sorry we just shoved the clothes in your cupboard. We didn’t want to bring the mud into either Felicity’s house, or my flat.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’d better go, or I’ll be late for work.’
Rather than knocking on Felicity’s door or trying to leave the finds bag with a possibly irritable Lucinda, she ran back up to her kitchen in the flat and left the bag on the table.
Once Violet was out of the front door, she walked through the streets of elegant Chelsea, considering what to do about Henry and the job offer. She still wasn’t quite sure as she shut herself into the lift with the finger-pinching metal gate.
Magda showed her into the drawing room where Miss Wynter sat in an armchair. She had a tray table pulled over the arms and was using it as a desk.
‘Ah! Violet! Are you late?’
‘No,’ said Violet, without checking. ‘But I think I’ve come to a decision.’
‘Well, obviously I’m far quicker on the uptake than you are, and I can inform you that Henry is going to come back from New York.’
Violet felt a flash of annoyance. She’d agonised over what to do and now Miss Wynter had acted without any reference to her feelings. But Miss Wynter was like that.
‘I thought it was my decision!’ said Violet, allowing her crossness to sound in her voice.
‘But I knew what you’d do. I just went ahead a little.’
Violet took the cup of coffee and cake Magda was handing her and sat down without waiting for an invitation.
‘It’s hardly logical, when you spend half your time boasting about how you’ve managed to avoid entanglements with men, that here you are, practically pushing me into an entanglement.’
‘That’s all true, but I didn’t say I’d avoided entanglements with women.’
Just for a moment Violet was confused. Then she saw it all. Women who used to be called Bluestockings studied together, travelled together and possibly lived together. No one looked askance at two intellectuals setting up house. The scandal caused by the two Ladies of Llangollen was in the last century. She smiled. ‘I do hope you were happy.’
‘For a time, we were very happy. But then death played his part and I was alone again. I didn’t find anyone else, but I do appreciate the happiness love can bring, as well as the more troublesome parts.’
‘What would you like me to do for you today?’
‘I think I’d like to look at the documents Susan and I were working on. I haven’t been able to face them for all these years, but I think now I can.’
Violet felt a sudden tear appear and turned away abruptly. She could only imagine the disdain Miss Wynter would feel about such a show of emotion. Sentimentality, she would call it.
‘Do eat the cake, dear. Magda made it specially but it’s too rich and gives me heartburn. I have soda mints if it gives you heartburn too.’
As Felicity knocked on Violet’s door only moments after Violet had arrived home that evening, she realised she must have news.
‘Can I come in? I’ve spoken to Maman and I explained about Oliver and how we really are finished this time, and she understood about me wanting to go home to France.’
‘Would you like tea?’ asked Violet from habit. ‘Or a drink?’ she added, not knowing if the news was good or bad and if alcohol might be required.
Felicity laughed, obviously guessing what Violet was thinking. ‘Tea would be lovely, thank you,’ she said before going on: ‘And while Maman did make a few comments about this being my home, she has got fed up with having to remember I live with her and that she is supposed to be maternal.’
‘Oh.’ Violet put the kettle on for the tea.
‘But she said I must do my exams first. She’s paid for the course and she wants me to finish it.’
‘Fair enough.’ Violet went to the cupboard for biscuits while she waited for the kettle to boil.
‘That’s what I thought. I wouldn’t have stayed long after the course finished, I don’t suppose. But I might have got a job or something, until it’s time for me to go to Paris. But not now, obviously.’ She sat on the sofa with a sigh. ‘There are always things for me to do at the chateau, anyway. I can look after the boys, do some painting, or change sheets for new guests.’
‘Good to keep busy.’ Violet warmed the pot and found mugs.
‘Yes! And be somewhere I’m not reminded of Oliver all the time.’
‘But you can’t leave memories behind. They go wherever you go.’
‘I know. But every inch of London says Oliver to me. And I’m not sure I’ll ever paint scenery again.’ Her eyes widened in horror. ‘Oh no! I’ve just remembered! Piers! I met him at the theatre. He works there. He’s a really sweet man. I promised I’d go to his birthday party tonight.’
‘Will Oliver be there?’ Violet was aghast at the thought. ‘You can’t go, surely!’
‘To be honest, I had forgotten about it, but he sent me a written invitation a couple of days ago.’ She frowned a little. ‘I don’t want to be the sort of person who lets people down.’ She turned to Violet. ‘You should come!’
‘Why?’
‘Firstly, because you might enjoy it. All the people are your age, not mine – mostly. And secondly, you can protect me from Oliver, if he’s there.’
‘Because you think he might jump on you?’
‘No! It’s because I might jump on him?’ Her smile was brave but pathetic. ‘We don’t have to stay long. Just show our faces. Then we can get a taxi home and be cosy. It’s just that I said I’d go.’
Violet could only admire Felicity making the effort to go to a party when she obviously didn’t want to. ‘OK …’ she said slowly.
‘I’ll put your make-up on; make sure you’re looking wonderful!’
Violet laughed. ‘But why go to the trouble? We’re just showing our faces.’
‘So our faces have got to be good! And it will be fun. While my heart is utterly broken forever, yours might recover if you met someone nice. How do you feel about wearing false eyelashes?’
Violet submitted to Felicity putting on her make-up, although she refused the eyelashes, and continued to admire Felicity’s efforts to be cheerful while she was obviously unhappy. She resolved to be similarly jolly. Maybe it was like whistling a joyful tune – pretend to be happy and true happiness would follow. But that sort of thing probably only happened in books or films.