‘How do you know that?’ William asked, frowning. ‘What happens in the Lords is not something for general knowledge.’
‘Well, I can read, milord, an’ nowadays there’s newspapers.’ Aunt Bill gave him a polite but terse smile. ‘An’ I’m not too proud to listen at doors. Remember that I’m a visitor ’ere.’
‘You said he was violent,’ I prompted her. ‘In what way?’
‘Not to put too fine a point on it, maid, Lord Trevarron – Albert Trevarron, that is—’ Aunt Bill nodded respectfully to William, who was listening intently. ‘Albert Trevarron is a disgustin’ beast. For starters, there’s Mary Elizabeth.’
‘Mary Elizabeth?’ I echoed; the name rang a bell.
‘She died two years ago. She’s buried in the rose garden. ’Twas a very bad business.’ Aunt Bill raised an eyebrow. ‘Mary Elizabeth was Violet’s older sister. She was developmentally disabled – fromwhat I could gather, either she ’ad a virus or somethin’ as a child and it affected ’er brain development, or she had an inherited condition. As you’d think, though, attitudes to anyone with disabilities in this day and age are a bit different to ours. She was kept in a bedroom. ’Er basic needs were taken care of, I expect, but I gather that she was treated as a vegetable. She died before I got ’ere.’ Aunt Bill sighed. ‘Very sad.’
‘That is terrible,’ I breathed, and, then, another terrible thought struck me. ‘Do you think that’s why she’s buried alongside the pets? Because they didn’t consider her a human, almost?’
‘Hm. I had the same thought.’ Aunt Bill shook her head. ‘It’s tellin’.’
‘It’s awful,’ I agreed.
‘Well, that’s not the least of it. ’Ee is…’ She trailed off, and I could see that this was hard even for Aunt Bill to say – Aunt Bill, who was no-nonsense, funny, dismissive of things that irritated her. ‘Lord Albert is…interferin’… wi’ Miss Violet.’
‘What?’ William stood up, pushing the chair away from the table with a screech. ‘What did you say?’
‘Don’t make me repeat it, William,’ Aunt Bill said.
‘I cannot… That is an intolerable suggestion!’ William thumped his fist down on the table, making Aunt Bill and I jump.
‘I wouldn’t make it up, dear,’ Aunt Bill replied, carefully. ‘I’m sorry that it upsets you. But these things, very sadly, do ’appen.’
‘I know they happen,’ he replied, his face white. Suddenly, I realised what he was thinking of. His own father had sexually abused William’s sister, Edith, and he had lived with the guilt over that for all of his life. There was a question mark over whether their father had also abused William’s younger brother, Charles. William, being older, had been in the Navy at the time.
I knew that William was horrified at the seam of abuse that seemed to run in his family. His sister, Edith – a bright, funny, witty young woman – had ended up marrying a brute who, I had no doubt, would also have abused her, physically, mentally, andemotionally. I knew that knowledge was killing him, now that we were more than 100 years away.
He’d failed her, again. He’d left Edith in terrible danger. Exactly the same danger as Aunt Bill was now describing.
I wondered, not for the first time, at the irony that William – a bare-knuckle fighter – was such a good man. And yet, so many other men in the Trevarron line were terrifying monsters.
Aunt Bill shot William a quizzical look, but pursed her lips.
‘Hm. Well, Lady Hermione knows, gods love ’er. She and I ’ave talked an’ she agrees, we ’ave to get them both out of Trevarron. Problem is, ’ow? While I’m ’ere I can look after Miss Violet an’ try an’ make sure Lord Albert leaves ’er alone. But time is of the essence, as they say,’ my aunt continued. Her brow was furrowed; she wore a serious, grim expression.
‘It’s not that easy to disappear a member of the nobility and her daughter, surely.’ I frowned. ‘I mean, of course I agree that we have to help Lady Hermione and Violet. But how? It’s the nineteenth century. I doubt either of them have passports or their own money. Where would they go? Surely Lord Albert would just track them down, wherever they went? It’s not like Hermione can get a job.’
William shot me a scandalised look. I held up my hand in reproof.
‘William, please accept that in my time, ladies have jobs. We own our own houses. We live independently. We have our own money,’ I said.
‘I realise that.’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry… I just cannot… The thought of that vile bastard… with his own daughter…’ Without warning, William kicked a nearby chair violently. Then, he picked up a nearby plate and threw it at the wall. It shattered.
I jumped out of my skin. ‘William!’
‘Sorry. I just… The thought of it.’ William punched the wall. Aunt Bill’s eyes widened.
‘Goodness, lad. Come now. Just calm down, you’ll make an ’ole.’ She approached William like she was walking up to a feraldog. ‘It’s a nasty thing, I know. Terrible business,’ she continued in a low voice, soothing.
‘I just… I can’t stand by and see that happen. Not again.’ He picked up the chair he’d kicked over and slumped down in it, hiding his face in his hands. Aunt Bill exchanged a look with me.
‘William’s father…’ I began, not knowing how to say it, or whether it was even my place to say it. ‘He… abused William’s sister. Possibly his brother, too. William was away in the Navy.’
‘Oh, my dear.’ Aunt Bill’s eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth. ‘I am so terribly sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said it… without a warnin’, or something. I ’ad no idea, William.’ She knelt in front of where William sat and took both of his hands in hers. ‘That is terrible. I’m so very sorry for you an’ your brother an’ sister.’
