Beatrice turned her face towards the window, the orange and pink glow of twilight swirling the sky into a confection of nature. There was magic in the most ordinary of things; she could see it more clearly than she had before.
Like Effie and her fairies. There’s so much to marvel at in this world, and yet we never look at it quite the way we should.
There was another knock, but before Beatrice could give permission to enter, the door opened, revealing Violet with an unreadable expression on her face.
Heaven help us if me father had the poor judgment to say anythin' to her.
“How are ye, Beatrice?” Violet asked. “Did ye enjoy yerself in the village?”
“Me mother did,” Beatrice replied.
“But ye didnae?”
Beatrice shrugged in an awkward attempt at modesty. “It was odd to be watched like that. Everyone was starin' at us as we walked through the streets with Leo. I cannae imagine the same thing will happen if I go back there alone.”
“Maybe nae entirely, but surely ye’re used to gettin' looks from men. Ye’re a very bonnie lass, after all.”
“Beatrice has always drawn attention,” Eloise spoke up, brushing auburn curls from Beatrice's face. “It’s probably why the elders were so eager to see her betrothed.”
“Well, that and me father’s immense debts.”
“Yer father has been blubberin’ around the castle all day,” Violet told her.
Oh God, I kent it. I kent he would cause me trouble.
“Violet, if he said anythin' to ye?—”
Violet scoffed, spinning on the balls of her feet. “Nay, nae to me.” She gestured to Bea. “How did ye live with a man like that?”
“Can ye blame me for wantin' to marry and get away from him?” The joke came out forced.
Violet tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips.
Aye, they all ken.
“I hope for yer sake that me brother is less of a boor than yer father,” Violet said.
“Uncle Patrick’s been actin’ worse than ever,” Eloise noted. “Usually, he’s nae so drunk and belligerent.”
Violet kept her focus on Beatrice, as if daring her to deny that, as if daring her to open her mouth and pour out a lifetime of brutish, nasty behavior.
There was nothing Beatrice wanted to contribute, so she remained silent.
Violet went back to pacing.
“I think ye’re a good lass, Beatrice,” she admitted after a moment. “I daenae want yer father around here anymore, but ye are clearly cut from a different cloth.”
“Beatrice would never be in this situation if it werenae for him,” Eloise said. “I’d say ye are different from him, indeed.”
“Besides,” Violet continued, folding her hands in front of her like she was praying, “Effie absolutely adores ye. It’s hard to trick children. If they hate someone, there’s nay way for them to pretend they daenae.”
“I suppose so,” Beatrice agreed.
But do ye ken what’s happenin’ here, Violet? Do I even ken anymore?
What had seemed so clear-cut was becoming hazy, shrouded in a complication of sentiments and other people’s opinions.
She wished everything would go back to when it had been just herself and Leo discussing an arrangement they had both agreed to—a simple ruse to carry on. Now there were too many people involved, with too many thoughts and too many things to say. Too many people involved in what was starting to feel less like survival and more like a lie.
