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Chapter 25
Violette knocked on the door of Snowspring Manor insistently. It was so early in the morning, with the sun barely risen above the trees in the distance, that the butler would no doubt be alarmed at someone calling at such an hour. She adjusted the man’s cap on her head before knocking even more urgently on the door.
“God’s wounds, let me in or I’ll be forced to do something rash…” she muttered to herself. To distract herself from the pain of what had happened with Lord Northrive the day before, she had occupied her thoughts with her mother instead, dreading what had happened to her at Lord Brunlow’s hands. She needed to know the truth now, for her imagination was sending her into turmoil.
She knocked a few more times, letting the bangs ricochet through the entrance hall. When the door was eventually answered, the butler appeared most flustered, gazing down at her with confusion.
“Who are you? Go away at once! It is a most indecent hour to call, sir,” the butler said rather aggressively.
“What is the matter, Haynes? Do you not recognise me?” Violette said, adopting her usual voice. She snatched the cap off her head. “I know I have been gone for a while, but it is not so long that you would forget my appearance, surely.”
Haynes’ jaw slackened, and the lips wobbled for a minute as he tried to form words, but they clearly died on his lips, unable to form them.
“Can I come in? So good of you, thank you,” she said nonchalantly, walking straight past him into the house. She tossed the trunk she had been carrying across her shoulder onto the floor and looked around the house.
It was just the same, unchanged. For some reason, she thought it might be different. She supposed it was because she felt she had changed so much. It was almost odd to see this place hadn’t changed one iota.
“My lady…I….” The butler picked her trunk up off the floor with shaking hands, still unable to phrase a single word.
“Have no fear of what to say, Haynes. I know it’s hardly a usual situation.” She tossed the cap to him that he caught in a fuddle from the air. “Could you hold onto that for me, please? I need to speak to my father.”
Haynes couldn’t make a sound but using the cap he pointed in the direction of the study across the hallway. She nodded, showing she understood, and walked straight toward it. She didn’t bother politely knocking and asking for admittance. If the rumours were true of what had happened to her mother, then her father deserved no such respect. She flung open the door, letting it bounce off the bookshelves on the other side as she strode in.
“What the—?” Lord Brunlow snapped up his gaze from the desk. “Who are you?” he said in instant anger. He looked bleary-eyed, apparently having not been awake very long. He stood to his feet with his hands planted firmly on the desk. “Get out of my house!”
“Well, I can understand Haynes not recognising me at first glance, but father, even you cannot?” Violette said with a smirk.
Her father changed. He went from barely concealed fury to bearing the same kind of bemused shock the butler had shown a moment before. His gaze wandered up and down her, travelling from the waistcoat and the cravat down to the Hessian boots and the breeches on her legs, then he closed his eyes, as though the sight of her dressed in such a way burned him.
“What is the matter, Father? I’m here. I’m back, is that not what you wanted?” she asked with scorn, able to read his expression completely.
“What have you done to yourself?” he said, walking around the desk. He moved with such agitation that he pushed the papers off the desk, hardly caring as they fell to the floor. “What kind of display is this!?” He gestured down at the clothes. “You have—”
“Where is my mother?” She was not interested in hearing his objections, there would be time enough for that.
“What?” Lord Brunlow said, stepping toward her still with his hands curling into fists. Her gaze flicked down to those hands, but she did not back away from him. After what had happened last night, she knew that if her father dared to raise a hand to her, she could defend herself.
She would not be afraid of him anymore.
“Where is she?” Violette demanded to know, with her voice demanding. “I heard the rumours. Gossip that said you hurt my mother and that she has not left her bed since.”
“An overreaction,” Lord Brunlow said, waving his hand. “I want to talk about this, Violette,” he said, pointing down at her. “You have ruined yourself to dress in such a way!”
She couldn’t listen anymore, for his words about her mother had told her all she needed to know. An overreaction…That was not a denial. That meant he had indeed struck her.
Violette backed out of the door and headed straight across the entrance hall toward the staircase.
“Violette! Come back here now!” Her father ordered, stepping out of the study to follow her.
“If you think I will obey any order from you now, you are truly mad,” she said offhandedly, casting the words over her shoulder as she took the steps two at a time, heading straight to her mother’s room.
Outside of the chamber, her mother’s lady’s maid stepped out, carrying a bowl of fresh water. When Violette appeared in front of her, the lady’s maid nearly dropped the bowl and squealed.
“Lady Violette!” she said in surprise.
“I am relieved someone can recognise me.” Violette turned her head to the door. “How is my mother?”
“I…” The lady’s maid cast her eyes down to the bowl and struggled to swallow. “I think it best you see for yourself, my lady.”
