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“Then you had best keep your thoughts to yourself.” Mrs Anderson said, reaching for the door and pulling it open before stepping through. “Enjoy your tea. Remember to pour to the left first and leave yourself for last. Oh, and try not to pour the tea in your lap like last time.”
The door was closed behind her, leaving Violette to slump down in the nearest chair in distress.
***
“Lady Violette, how charming it is to see you again.” Mr Thornby’s tone was suave as he took hold of her hand and lifted it in greeting.
“And you, Mr Thornby,” she said politely, though she retracted her hand just as soon as she could. His palm was as oily as his slicked-back fair hair looked. She did not miss the way his eye slipped down her body and the smacking of his lips that left her in no doubt of his thoughts. “Oh, good god…” she muttered to herself and walked away from him, trying her best to place herself on the opposite side of the garden table to him. To her dismay, her father made her attempt futile.
“Here, Mr Thornby, sit between my daughter and myself,” he said, happily pointing the minister into the chair between the two of them. Violette slyly inched her chair to the side, a little further away from him. As they sat, she could see her mother looking at her expectantly with hope. Determined to try and prove she was not a complete embarrassment, Violette leaned forward to pick up the teapot and pour out tea for everyone.
“It is so good to see you again, Mr Thornby,” Rowena said kindly as she lifted her embroidery off her lap. With skill, she managed to maintain the conversation and her sewing. Violette had to bite her lip to stop herself from smirking at the sight, knowing Mrs Anderson would praise her heartily for it. “We were so pleased you accepted our invitation.”
“I was only too delighted to receive it,” Mr Thornby said as he sat primly in his seat. “With such pleasant company as Lord Brunlow and yourself, and of course, the charms of your daughter too.”
Violette saw her father and mother exchange pleased looks, meaning they did not see the way in which Mr Thornby set his gaze upon her. Once again, it was far from being on her face. It made her pause with the teapot and hastily rearrange the neckline of her dress, eager for him to stop staring at her so openly in such a way.
“I hear you are preparing for your debut, Lady Violette?” the minister said, leaning forward, toward her. She backed up a little and placed down the teapot now that everyone was served.
“Yes, I am.”
“I do not doubt she will be quite the centre of attention, my lord,” Mr Thornby said with flattery, looking to her father. “Her success will do you both great credit. You must see her married! Soon, I do not doubt.”
“We hope greatly for it,” Lord Brunlow said with glee, clearly looking between her and Mr Thornby with expectation. Violette had to hold in her groan of despair as she looked at Mr Thornby. He brushed one of his hands back over his oiled hair, showing why his palm had felt damp to the touch. He licked his lips again before he picked up to slurp from his teacup, with his beady blue eyes fixed on her.
“God save me,” she muttered to herself behind her teacup, so that no one could hear her.
“I would only be too happy to offer my services to escort your daughter for the first assembly, after her debut.” Mr Thornby’s offer was so sudden that Violette choked on her tea.
“Oh dear, she is so excited by the idea,” Rowena said, chuckling as Violette really struggled with the tea. Mr Thornby reached forward and clapped Violette on the back, helping to clear her airways. After she had finished coughing though, his hand lingered there. A touch that her parents didn’t seem to notice. It made Violette rear away from him, utterly repulsed by his boldness and his touch.
“Well, I am sure she would be delighted to accept,” Gideon said from across the other side of the table. Violette looked up, seeing her father’s glare that meant she could not escape giving a firm answer.
“Yes, of course,” she said, keeping her eyes averted. “Would anyone like a top-up?”
“Yes, please, dear,” Rowena said, lifting her embroidery a little higher as she pushed her teacup away. Violette picked up the teapot, only too thankful to be thinking of something else when she saw her mother struggle with the embroidery. She dropped it. In the kerfuffle that ensued, Violette went to try and grab the embroidery to save it from falling on the lawn beneath their feet, but she managed to tip the milk jug over with her elbow. She grabbed the embroidery with one hand, returning it to her mother, but the damage was done.
There was a cry of surprise as the milk ran across the table in droplets and landed squarely in the minister’s lap. The shock and apologies came instantly from her parents though Violette had to try and stop her own smirk. She couldn’t help but wonder if it would cool the minister’s leering gaze on her a little. Her mother took the embroidery and hid it below the table, lowering her gaze too.
“My sincere apologies, Mr Thornby,” she said hurriedly, but before any more could be said, her father had jumped to his feet. She turned her gaze on him, seeing that Gideon was turning so red in the face with his anger, he was practically purple.
“Violette, this will not do. Are you truly so incapable of being in control of yourself that you would tip milk all over our guest?” he asked, his temper was unbound as he gestured at Mr Thornby.
“Father, I…” she trailed off, looking to her mother, knowing that Rowena could choose to explain at any moment that Violette had simply saved her embroidery from dropping to the ground and that was the reason for the accident. “Mother?” Violette looked to her mother in hope that she would explain. Only, Rowena didn’t. Instead, she kept her eyes turned down to the embroidery and chose not to say anything, leaving Violette to her father’s censure. “Mother?” she said again with hope, but still Rowena would not look up.
“If you insist on behaving like a child, then I will treat you like one.” Gideon’s words were harsh. “Leave the table at once and go to your room.”
“But Father, I—”
“Now, Violette!”
Violette walked away before anything else could be said, though she could hear her father apologising profusely to the minister again after she left. Only when she was standing in the doorway of the house did she look back to her mother, wondering if Rowena felt any guilt at all for not helping her when it mattered.
