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“Embarrassment.”
The word made Violette pause as she turned in a small circle, having to be incredibly careful to keep the book balanced on her head as she looked back at her tutor.
“Would there be a point to the particular words you are using, Mrs Anderson?”
“No,” Mrs Anderson replied succinctly, though there was a smirk in her features that suggested she had indeed chosen the words with good reason. The idea made Violette blush in shame.
“L’embarrass.”
“Good. How about this sentence? I wish to attend the ball this evening. I have longed for nothing else all week.”
“Je ne veux pas assister au bal ce soir. Je l’ai redouté toute la semaine,” Violette said with a small smile.
“That was wrong.”
“Was it?” Violette asked innocently as she turned back the other way.
“You said that you did not want to go to the ball this evening and that you had been dreading it all week.”
“Forgive me,” Violette said. “I chose to alter the phrase to something I was infinitely more likely to say.”
“Oh, you are impossible!” Mrs Anderson walked forward and snatched the book off her head.
“My apologies, Mrs Anderson, but is it really so great a crime to not look forward to a ball?” Violette asked quietly. Mrs Anderson said nothing in reply but turned sharply on her heels and marched across the room, clearly angered. Violette took the small break as the opportunity to look out the window.
She could see Rupert out there with one of the maids who had been sent to keep him company. Violette longed to be with them instead of trapped indoors with her lessons. Had she been given her freedom that morning, she would have happily risen early and gone for a ride with her horse before wandering the garden with Rupert at her heels.
“Are you listening, Lady Violette?” Mrs Anderson’s voice urged Violette to turn back round, dragging her gaze away from the window.
“I am sorry,” she said. “Forgive me. I grew distracted by other thoughts. What did you say?”
“I said that I am trying to help you. Something you seem intent on ignoring. I swear it is almost as if you do not want to be married and have no wish to find a husband at all,” she exclaimed loudly and dropped the book down on a table nearby.
“You have no idea how much that is the truth,” Violette muttered to herself.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she said, lifting her eyes to Mrs Anderson another time.
“Right, well. We may have to abandon our lessons for one day.”
“Thank goodness!”
“Lady Violette.” Mrs Anderson’s tone was one of reprimand.
“I merely meant I will be grateful for the break. I will, of course, be sad to part from your company,” she said sweetly, earning a disbelieving gaze from her tutor.
“You may miss my instructions very soon indeed,” Mrs Anderson said, crossing toward the door. “Your parents have invited the local minister around for tea this afternoon and you are to attend them. It will be your responsibility to practice your skills as hostess, pouring tea, and more.”
“Wait…Minister John Thornby?” Violette said in disgust.
“The very same.”
“Oh, of all the men in all the world.” Violette gasped in dismay and walked in a small circle in the room.
“Dear God, child, you should not disparage any man with such a tone.”
“Mrs Anderson, Mr Thornby may be a member of parliament, but you could not find a more odious man. It would be dishonest to not disparage the man so.”
