Ours Is Just a Little Sorrow (7 page)

As Gideon led me back through the maze of secret corridors at the estate, I grew nervous about what would happen next. While he had never taken any actual
liberties with me, would he expect to now? We danced perilously close to the edge of my ruin already. It would take barely a misstep to seal my fate.

I couldn't allow this flirtation to go any further.

We stopped at my secret door and Gideon showed me how to operate it from the other side. We stepped in and I turned, my mouth open to begin a litany of all
the reasons why he needed to go.

Instead, I said, "I'm thirsty now, Gideon."

His eyes registered barely a moment of confusion before recognition dawned and he kissed me.

I'd never been kissed, so I have no comparison, but as his mouth glided over mine, I imagined that girls would stand in line to receive his kisses. I'd
been a fool to think I flew on the dance floor.
This
was flying.

His lips danced on mine, coaxing a rhythm that matched the pounding of my pulse. If anyone were to find me in such a compromising position, I would lose
everything-but I could not break his hold over me.

Gideon groaned and pulled away, taking a large step backwards. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" I asked. My lips bruised and trembling.

"Well, no."

We stared at each other across the foot of space between us. Though it was only a step, the separation felt like a huge ravine. We both shook from wanting
to cross but not wanting to fall.

"I should let you get your rest," he said and turned.

"Wait," I said. His eyes ignited, waiting for me to ask him to stay. "Your coat."

He blinked. "Right."

I unbuttoned it while he waited. He watched me like I was unwrapping a gift for him. He licked his lips and a sensation of desire I'd never experienced
before hit me like waves buffeting a sea wall. I turned my back to him as he slid the coat from my shoulders, his hot breath on my nape, and felt him step
back when my arms slid free.

"Good night, Violet."

I didn't watch him leave. I couldn't.

Chapter 5

T
HE NEXT few days were busy as the whole household prepared for the holiday, so I was able to easily stay out of Gideon's path. Though, perhaps, he'd been
staying out of mine.

I lifted my chin out of habit. Well, that was just fine if he was. Just fine.

Phillip was reading, a torturous exercise I put him through day after day, and I was helping one of the maids, Marisol, hang a garland of evergreen boughs
when Oliver entered the salon.

"Miss Merriweather, you've a guest," he said as gloomily as ever.

How odd. I turned to look over my shoulder, but couldn't let go of the garland. In the doorway, stood Mrs. Witherspoon, her hands clasped tightly in front
of her. As usual, it was impossible to read any emotion in her face.

I am sure I looked a fright. We'd been decorating with the evergreen all morning-I'd be finding needles on my person for the next several days. The pins
had been knocked loose from my hair leaving it half up and half down, and sap had collected on my hands and face over the hours. "Er, hello, Mrs.
Witherspoon. What a pleasant surprise."

Her eyes darted from my face to the precarious step-ladder I was atop. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you more warning, Miss Merriweather. I meant to leave
this note, but they assured me you were allowed visitors."

"That I am. Give me one moment to extricate myself from the indoor forest, please. Phillip, you may be excused."

His face lit up, and he wasted no time in his escape. Oliver relieved me my end of the garland and I wiped as much stickiness from my hands as I could as I
joined Mrs. Witherspoon at the door.

"Shall I ring for tea, then?" I asked, wondering what I owed this visit to. I never expected her to check on my arrangements. I was of the mind that once
she let one of her flock go, we were on our own, never to return to the nest.

"This isn't a social call, I'm afraid. Is there a place where we might speak privately?"

Now that really was odd. "Of course."

We sequestered ourselves in the small sitting room across the vestibule. Her eyes darted about nervously, never landing in one place too long.

"Are you doing well, Violet?" she asked me. "Do you like your post?"

"Very much. Phillip is a wonderful student and my accommodations are more than comfortable, as you can see."

Her lips pressed together in a firm line briefly before the mask returned. "And they are treating you well."

"Very well, Mrs. Witherspoon."

She didn't rush to fill the silence. The tick tocker on the wall kept track of every missed opportunity to break the awkward quiet.

She exhaled loudly. "You've perhaps heard the distressing news about the missing maid from the Havendish Estate?" Mrs. Witherspoon had never looked the
picture of robust health, but her pale skin drew tighter over her high cheekbones than usual, and the bruise-purple crescents under her eyes were more
vivid.

"Yes, of course."

She closed her eyes, "The newspapers mistakenly reported her as a maid. I'm so sorry, Violet. Shelby…Shelby had recently taken a position as
companion to the aging Mrs. Wilkes at Havendish. That afternoon, they had been shopping and Shelby went missing. They've not found her, or evidence that
she is…well."

Dots began to dance in my eyes like fireflies. I tried to blink them away but they persisted until everything around me darkened but the flickering pattern
of lights.

"They've pronounced her dead. Shelby is gone, Violet."

Gone.

I tried to stand, but the world lost substance. I remember trying to say there had been a mistake. That she couldn't be gone, not Shelby. Not my sweet,
darling Shelby. And then I remember falling endlessly into a graceless slumber.

When I woke up, I was lying on the sofa and John was kneeling in front of me holding a cool cloth to my forehead. I was disoriented and nauseous, so I
blinked instead of speaking.

"There she is," he said, his friendly tone soothing.

I groaned, bringing my hand to the lump on my temple. "What happened?" I tried to sit up, but John pushed me back gently.

"It's better to rest a few minutes more. The doctor is on his way."

"Doctor?" I frowned. "What is going on?"

"You had a spill. Mrs.Witherspoon says you bumped your head on the table on your way down. It's a nasty lump you've got there, and you were unconscious for
several minutes."

Mrs. Witherspoon. It all came back in a rush of sadness.

"Oh, Shelby," I cried. It was real, then.

John looked behind him and gestured. Mrs. Witherspoon entered my line of sight. Oh, how I wished it had been a bad dream.

"I'm truly sorry, Violet. I didn't want to leave until I knew you were all right, but the other girls…" she trailed off.

"Of course. They need you now."

After she left, I tried to go to my room, but John refused. "You shouldn't be alone right now, Violet."

I stared at the ornate plaster ceiling. "I am alone, John."

"How can you say that?" He took my hand in his large, warm one. "You have us."

I pulled my hand out of his. "I'm your employee. No, not even that. I am an employee of the estate. If I were to disappear tomorrow, the most that would be
said about me is 'a maid from Thornfield disappeared today'." I finished sitting up. Slowly so he wouldn't notice how weak it made me. "I should not have
forgotten my place."

"You know we don't feel that way about you. You've been here a short time, but you're important to us. Phillip is doing so well with your guidance. He's a
happy boy. And I've found…I've found a friendship with you I hadn't expected. I know you are hurting right now, but you don't have to hurt alone."
His beautiful blue eyes shone with concern and something else I needed to ignore.

I wished very much I could take what he offered, solace, comfort…maybe more. Perhaps, even an hour ago, had he said to me that I belonged to
Thornfield and that Thornfield belonged to me I would have accepted that I belonged somewhere. Finally.

But it was too much to bear now.

Who knows what horrors Shelby faced before she died-perhaps she was still living them. She'd never done anything to anyone and now she was gone as if she
never mattered at all. But she did matter. She mattered very much to me.

I blinked back the onslaught of hot tears and begged John to allow me peace. I couldn't bear to hold them back much longer, and it wouldn't do to lose
control in front of my employer. He squeezed my hand and reluctantly allowed me to retreat.

The physician saw to me in my quarters, prescribing rest and a tincture that tasted like bark. The lump on my head ached some, but was nothing compared to
the hole in my heart. Even though we hadn't spoken in awhile, I'd taken comfort in Shelby's presence in my life. Because I had her, regardless of
proximity, I was not alone.

Now I was.

I didn't sleep, take a tray, or light a candle, much less a fire. I barely moved for hours sitting in a chair and staring at the wall. Life was precarious
and its sands sifted quickly through the hourglass, I knew that. I'd always known that. But for the first time in my life, I wanted to rage at the
unfairness of it all.

Tomorrow, I would close what was left of the wound in my heart and carry on. Wiser, I hoped. Never again would I allow anyone to matter so much, for it was
not my lot in life to depend on love, friendship, or family.

Tomorrow I would pick up the pieces. Tonight, I would grieve.

Hours later, the cold seeping into my bones became painful, but I couldn't work up the gumption to move, much less build a fire. When I heard the wall
slide open, I should have been surprised, but wasn't.

"Violet, it's freezing in here." Gideon's candle, the only light in the room, backlit his face in a ghostly fashion. "What the devil do you mean to do,
freeze to death?"

Perhaps Shelby was still out there, in the cold, freezing to death.

I looked away and said nothing.

He went about lighting the aether logs, muttering about foolishness and melodrama. I continued my silence strike. Once he was satisfied that the flames
were strong enough, he crossed the room and dragged the quilt from my bed. Stalking over to my chair, he made quick work of cocooning me in the bed covers,
and amid my protest, he scooped me up.

"Put me down, Gideon. I'm in no mood for your shenanigans tonight."

"
My
shenanigans?" He unceremoniously plopped me on the floor in front of the fire. "I'm not the one courting pneumonia in the freezing cold."
While he spoke, he lowered himself to the carpet behind me and pulled me between his legs so that my back was to his chest and his arms surrounded me with
his heat. "If you had come across one of the girls from your academy playing such melodramatic games, you'd be livid."

"I don't want to talk about the academy or anything else."

I tried to pull away, but the cage of his arms was solid.

"Then don't talk. Listen. And stop struggling. Your only recourse right now is screaming, and I doubt you want to bring the household to this current
folly."

Again, the unfairness of my life filled my chest with bitterness. He was right. Gideon could do anything he liked to me. My choices were to let him or lose
everything to the scandal of being found alone with a man in my room. At that moment, I hated him.

I stopped struggling.

"Good girl. Now listen to me. Your friend would not want you to martyr yourself this way. You are doing her memory no favors."

"Please go," I whispered, my desperation louder than the words.

Gideon's arms went slack. "I wish I could leave you alone, sprite. God knows. But you worry me and I'm terrible with concern. I don't know what to do with
it."

That I believed.

"I'm fine." I sniffed.

He rested his chin on my shoulder. "You're breaking my heart."

"That is the first humorous thing I've heard all day."

"That's my girl." He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, warming me whether I wanted it or not.

"Gideon, you're too close. You shouldn't even be here."

Now that I was warming up, it felt as if my skin were prickling. I almost wished he'd rub my arms again, but of course didn't voice my desire. It wasn't my
place to ask for things. I was to be happy for whatever I received, after all.

We stared into the fire, sharing the silence while the blaze ate the logs in a cacophony of hissing and spitting. Behind me, Gideon shuffled a bit and
procured a flask, holding it in front of me, he asked, "Drink?"

"No, thank you."

"It will warm you up."

I sighed and gave in, knowing he would badger me until I did, anyway. It took a bit for me to unwrap my arms from the cocoon he'd made me, but I grasped
the flask from him and sipped carefully.

Whatever it was burned a path from my throat to my belly. An involuntary shiver wracked my body. But he was right, it did warm me up. "That's awful," I
managed, glad he couldn't see my scrunched up face from his position.