Chapter Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER
THIRTY - NINE
It was a few more days before David arrived in his big old estate car, full of antiques, to collect Felicity, whose exams were now done and out of the way. Violet stood on the steps with Lucinda as they watched David put her belongings in the car, finding space with a professional air.
Felicity hugged her mother and then Violet before getting into the front seat. Violet knew how happy Felicity was to be going home to France but was trying not to show it. Lucinda might be privately pleased to be relieved of her maternal duties, but Violet knew she’d miss her daughter.
As they watched the laden car disappear at the end of the street, Lucinda turned to Violet.
‘Come and have a drink with me. It’s going to be strange not having her taking up all the space in the bathroom.’
‘I’m going to miss her,’ said Violet, following Lucinda into the drawing room. ‘She’s being so brave about Oliver.’
Lucinda opened the gin bottle that was on a tray and poured. ‘I’d have forgiven him, although maybe I’d have been wrong to do so. Would you like a twist of lemon?’ She added a splash of tonic to both glasses.
Violet shook her head. She couldn’t see a lemon on the tray and didn’t want to be difficult. She’d have liked some ice too, but this was not the moment to ask for it.
‘To Felicity,’ said Lucinda, taking a large swig of what was mostly gin. ‘Now tell me, if Oliver and Felicity are no longer speaking, does that mean I should give up Hector?’
Violet smiled and shrugged. ‘I imagine it would be more awkward for everyone if Oliver and Felicity got married. It would mean that Hector would be Felicity’s father-in-law and her stepfather. That could be very tricky.’
Lucinda nodded and took another sip of gin. ‘I’d better not ask her to be a bridesmaid then. Just in case.’
As Violet walked to work the following morning she felt the spark had gone out of the house a little. She knew she was being fanciful, but she felt it all the same. She had left the house early and so found time to walk to the chocolate shop which sold the violet and rose creams beloved of her employer. She remembered again how everyone had always given her violet creams because of her name, even though she had never liked them much. But Miss Wynter did.
Magda opened the door of the mansion flat and Violet instantly sensed something was different. She didn’t have time to work out quite what it was before she was ushered quickly into the drawing room, almost before she’d got her coat off.
The reason for the rush was sitting on an upright chair holding a cup of something, looking stern. It was Henry.
Violet’s mouth went dry. She turned to Miss Wynter, who seemed pleased with herself, and then she glanced at Magda, just so she could avoid the elephant in the room, who was glaring at her. Even Sigmund stayed in his basket instead of racing over to greet her as usual.
Rather than speak, she sat down hurriedly, the box of chocolates on her knees. Magda almost ran to bring her a cup of coffee.
‘Well?’ demanded Miss Wynter, apparently wanting praise. ‘What do you have to say for yourself this morning?’
‘I brought you some chocolates,’ said Violet, sounding far calmer than she felt. ‘From the shop you like. I have no idea why.’
Henry got to his feet. ‘Violet—’ He stopped.
‘Yes?’ Violet finally met his gaze.
‘Can I take you out for coffee?’ It didn’t sound as if he was inviting her out for something nice; it was more of a ‘See me!’ sort of thing.
‘We have coffee here,’ said Violet, quenching her sudden feeling of guilt. She mustered up some anger. Feeling angry was good, she decided, it would help her cope with the shock of seeing him.
‘I have made a special cake,’ said Magda, indignantly. ‘To have with your coffee.’
‘We could leave you alone to talk out your differences,’ said Miss Wynter, unenthusiastically, but preparing to rise.
But the thought of trying to talk to Henry in the currently stifling atmosphere of the flat, knowing Miss Wynter would want to come in and see how they were getting on, was even worse than the prospect of coffee on her own with Henry.
‘Let’s take Sigmund for a walk,’ she said, getting up. Sigmund probably wouldn’t protect her from Henry in any useful way, but he would be moral support.
‘Fine,’ said Henry, showing little enthusiasm for Violet’s idea.
Violet’s stomach began to churn with anxiety. Maybe she could leave Sigmund with Henry at a suitable point and just go home? The dignified, sombre man Henry was now would never run after her. She had to cling on to that.
What was Miss Wynter’s agenda? Violet wondered. Miss Wynter knew how she felt about Henry and how she’d forbidden anyone to give him her address. Unless she actively disliked Violet, and this was unlikely, why had she sprung him on her like that? Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer: Miss Wynter liked to meddle. Violet put the chocolates on the table but couldn’t bring herself to actually give them to her employer.
She pulled her coat back on and watched Henry shrug himself into a dark navy overcoat. Although she hated to admit it, it was very flattering. And she discovered, as they were squashed together in the lift, that he was wearing some wonderful cologne. Silently she prayed that the lift wouldn’t decide to judder to a halt between floors. It had happened once to Violet and the thought of being stuck in a lift with Henry seemed like one of the circles of hell. Although she couldn’t help remembering a time when it would have seemed like heaven.
The lift behaved and they went to the Embankment Gardens, which was Violet and Sigmund’s favourite walk. Sigmund, who could be very snooty, had taken a liking to Henry. Violet remembered the dogs at home had all thought he was wonderful, too. In normal circumstances she would have taken this as a good sign, but now she just felt let down by Sigmund as well as by Miss Wynter. Her plan to leave their meeting at a suitable moment was becoming more concrete. She must look out for a good place.
‘Shall we sit?’ Henry indicated a bench and Violet duly sat on it. Sigmund looked up at her questioningly. This was not what usually happened.
‘Why didn’t you want me to have your address?’ Henry asked.
He still sounded like a strict headmaster and Violet matched his tone. ‘I didn’t want you to get in touch with me.’
‘It may be satisfying for you to know that no one I asked gave me your address. I did think it odd that your father seemed to think you’d moved and didn’t know where to.’
‘My father can be very vague.’
‘I suspect Jenny,’ said Henry. ‘She told him what to say.’
Violet didn’t reply. Instead, she encouraged Sigmund on to her knee.
‘At the shop, too. Sylvia kept saying you didn’t fill in a form when you first came.’
‘I don’t think I did. I can’t remember.’
‘Luckily Miss Wynter got in touch and invited me to her house.’
‘Lucky for who?’ said Violet quietly, half hoping he wouldn’t hear.
Henry ignored this. ‘So, I still don’t know exactly where you live. I know which street, of course; I just don’t know the number. I didn’t think I’d need to make a note of it after I drove you home on Boxing Day.’
He sounded indignant, and Violet, who prided herself on being fair-minded, accepted this was justified.
‘Can you explain why you’re ignoring me?’
Violet had good reasons, but she was struggling to express them.
‘Dr Saunders came into the basement’ – she realised she still felt possessive about the place – ‘and told me, more or less, that you and she were …’ She paused, not sure how to express herself. ‘I mean, she implied you were very close. I felt it would be wrong to have any further contact with you. Even if you were just the owner of the bookshop who was rarely in the office.’
Violet could tell by Henry’s face that this had stung him, as it was meant to. ‘And you believed her?’
‘Why wouldn’t I? It was clear that you’d worked together before and have a history. She had chosen you to go with her on a lecture tour. Of course she has feelings for you.’
She thought she heard him sigh, but it could have been traffic noise. ‘I didn’t realise that her feelings for me were in any way romantic.’
Violet found this difficult to believe. ‘Really? She made it perfectly clear to me.’
‘I only found out when we were at the reception of a hotel in upstate New York. She’d only booked one room. I had to explain to her that ours was a professional relationship only. She wasn’t happy. I must have misread the signals horribly.’ He looked at his fingers to cover his embarrassment.
‘“Horribly” seems to describe it perfectly.’
‘But why did you care, Violet?’
Now would be a good time to take to her heels and run, she felt, but a rather small London garden was not a good spot to try it. It wouldn’t take many strides of Henry’s long legs to catch her should he want to pursue her, even if Sigmund did tangle him up in his lead.
‘I can’t remember!’ she said, also inspecting her fingers. ‘It was so long ago that I’ve completely forgotten.’
Something that could have been the beginnings of a smile disturbed the gravity of Henry’s expression. He suppressed it quickly, but Violet had seen it.
‘That’s ridiculous! I’ve only been gone a few weeks and not even a complete scatterbrain could have forgotten that quickly. And I know you aren’t a scatterbrain, Violet.’
‘No?’
‘No! You’re one of the cleverest people I know although you’re very modest about it. You have a real feel for history and could make a promising career in it if ever you decided that’s what you want to do.’
‘Thank you,’ she managed.
‘However, clever as you undoubtedly are, no one believed it when you said you had a doctor’s appointment at my leaving do. They knew it was fake.’
‘It wasn’t a fake doctor’s appointment. It was a fake dentist’s appointment.’
He firmed his mouth to hide what looked like another smile. ‘I apologise.’
‘I accept your apology. Now, shall we walk on? Sigmund is getting cold.’
‘Don’t you call him Siggy? Miss Wynter does.’
‘He hasn’t asked me to do that yet. He’s quite a formal dog.’ She got up and Henry joined her.
‘Were you pleased to hear about the job offer?’ she asked.
‘It’s not an offer yet and I won’t get an offer if I don’t find this wretched palace and finish my book.’
‘Oh.’
‘I was hoping you’d help me.’
Violet bit her lip. ‘But I have another job.’
‘Miss Wynter would let you do both. She’s already told me she wants to be part of the hunt for the palace.’
‘What would Dr Saunders think?’
‘I don’t greatly care. Come on, let’s take this little dog back. Then we can start work.’
‘Hang on! I haven’t agreed to help you yet!’
‘Please do!’ he said anxiously. ‘Otherwise you’ll be changing Miss Wynter’s library books forever. Think how boring that would be.’
Violet didn’t reply immediately. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if she liked novels, but she only wants biographies of historical figures so she can point out the mistakes in them to me.’
Determined not to let either Henry or Miss Wynter have the upper hand immediately, Violet took her leave from her employer when they brought Sigmund back after his walk. She didn’t think her demanding boss needed her for anything else that day. Besides, she was very annoyed with her for dragging Henry back into her life when she had been hoping to forget him forever. Surprisingly, Miss Wynter didn’t complain.
‘But you will come back tomorrow, won’t you, dear?’ she asked.
This took Violet aback. Miss Wynter had never called her ‘dear’ before. It was almost an endearment!
‘Of course,’ she said firmly, determined not to let her see that she was at risk of being softened up. ‘You are still my employer.’
She gave Henry a glance which she hoped was more glare than longing and left. For once the lift was waiting for her and soon she was out of the building and on her way back to Cheyne Walk.
Inevitably, Violet found the combination of Henry and Miss Wynter too much to overcome and was soon working for them both. But as she’d never had enough to do working in the mansion flat and she was secretly fascinated by Henry’s work, she didn’t feel obliged to complain. She also liked going back to her basement in the shop, which was now Henry’s office. All his papers were sitting in ordered piles around him and Sylvia and the other staff in the shop were pleased to have her back.
There was one thing she was worried about: the file she had held back when Dr Saunders took everything else. What reason could she give Henry for doing that? She couldn’t just pretend she’d forgotten she had it; she was determined to show Henry that she was as clever as he said she was, and that meant having a good memory as well.
In the end, she asked Sylvia for advice while Henry was at the British Library.
‘What am I going to do about this file, Sylvia?’ she asked, having gone to Sylvia’s office and been offered tea. ‘I kept it back when Dr Saunders came. I just couldn’t bear to give her everything.’
‘I don’t blame you, Vi,’ said Sylvia, ‘I would have kept back something too.’ She paused. ‘Tell you what, why don’t I say I found it in among some other papers?’
‘But it’s a new folder and has my handwriting on it.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that! I haven’t worked in an antique print and book shop for all these years without learning a trick or two. You leave it with me.’