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Chapter 28
“Do you have any idea what kind of shame you might have brought on this family?” Lord Brunlow was off again on another tirade.
Violette merely sat and listened to him, reluctant to argue with him anymore. She had done enough arguing by now. She was back in her lady’s clothes with the corset pulled tight and the gown itching around the neckline as she sat at the dining table eating breakfast. She glanced up to see her mother had made it down for breakfast too.
The two of them sat side by side at the table, neither speaking up very much, and just listening to Lord Brunlow’s anger. The bruise on Rowena’s face was still an awful sight to behold, and so she kept hanging her head forward, allowing some of the loose curls from her updo to hide the bruise when the butler and the maids came in to serve breakfast.
The sight of that bruise and the want to hide it made Violette’s blood boil with anger, but she let it simmer beneath the surface and did nothing about it.
What could she do now?
“Are you even listening to me, Violette?” Lord Brunlow asked insistently from the head of the table. He had lost all interest in his food now.
“I’m listening, Father, but I do not have to respond when you repeated yourself to this extent.”
“The insolence!” he said with rage. “How is it possible to have a daughter such as you?”
The words made her flinch. Under the table, a hand reached out to touch hers in comfort. It was her mother’s. They clung onto one another under the table for a minute as Lord Brunlow continued to rant.
“We shall have to work fast if we are going to stop the damage any rumours of you fleeing this house could do,” Lord Brunlow said, flinging the napkin that had been on his lap back down on the dining table. Rowena recoiled away at the harsh move, making Violette cling all the more to her mother’s hand. “We shall make it known that Violette was visiting a relation in Scotland.”
“What family relation?” Violette asked. “We have none.”
“People do not need to know that, do they?” he said with a dismissive wave. “We will say you went to stay with a distant aunt on your mother’s side. Any mention of you running away we will attribute to a servant with a tattling tongue. That should solve that problem. As for the hair….” He paused and narrowed his eyes at her. Violette held his gaze, not wanting to be vowed by him now. “What a sight you have made of yourself.”
“I like it,” Violette said with vigour. She had rather thought the shorter hair suited her. That morning, her lady’s maid had done her best to style it in an updo, but the locks were still too short for it to work.
“We shall have to say you copied the Titus hairstyle and that you saw other young ladies wearing it so in Scotland. You will grow it out again now.”
“Will I?” Violette asked in amazement. Her father’s eyes widened. “Why must I?”
“Because I told you to.”
Rowena’s warning squeeze of her hand stopped Violette from arguing any further. She had always quite liked her hair long too, but there was something about keeping it short now that was desirable, just as a defiance against her father’s order.
“We must do more,” Lord Brunlow said decisively. “You must marry.”
“What?” Violette said, dropping the piece of bread she had picked up with her other hand.
“As soon as possible.”
“But I…” She trailed off, looking at the way her mother cowered in her chair, fearful of her husband becoming violent again. “Why must I?” Violette asked, attempting to keep her voice calm for her mother’s sake.
“To repair your reputation, you foolish girl! If there are any other accounts out there of you being gone for the summer, spending your time hidden as a man, what will become of us all?” Lord Brunlow snapped up the butter knife and gestured with it before lowering it back down to its place again. “You will marry and soon. That is the only way to fix this for good.”
“Who?” Violette asked, finding the fear begin to claw at her body.
“I don’t know. Quite frankly, I do not care. We cannot expect anyone of too high a birth if we wish for you to marry quickly. They will have to be eligible and willing to take a wife that is a little….”
“A little what?” Violette asked warily.
“Eccentric.”
“My dear,” Rowena spoke up for the first time that morning. Both Violette and Lord Brunlow snapped their heads to her in surprise. “Don’t you think it wise that our daughter have a say in who she marries? It is a commitment for life, after all. We want her to be happy.”
“She lost any right to have a say in such a thing the moment she walked out of our door,” Lord Brunlow said, gesturing to the door in anger.
Rowena flinched with the move and retracted her hand from Violette’s, then moved out of her seat. Violette watched her mother step away with concern. She was touched that her mother had tried to speak up for her, even if it hadn’t come to anything. Rowena walked all the way to the side of the dining room before peering out of the window. Her body was tense at first, evidently from the exchange with Lord Brunlow, then her body veered forward as though she were trying her best to crane her neck and see as far down the pebbled driveway as possible.
