Page 19 of The Devil and the Heiress
She nodded and fidgeted with the hem of her apron. “And the reward we spoke of?”
“Of course, and you and your young brother have a place in my household for life.” Walking to the safe behind his desk, he unlocked it and withdrew two coins, pressing them into her hand. “For your troubles today. Remember, come here directly when she leaves again. You must be gone if she is ever reported missing. No one can question you.”
She nodded again. “Yes, I remember, milord.” Pausing as if uncertain, she added, “You will not see her come to any harm? Like you said?”
He smiled. “My plan relies on her being safe and blissfully happy.” It was the only way to ensure that she would choose him over running away.
Chapter 7
Rose believed herself capable of all manner of resourcefulness, but sometimes to struggle meant to draw the bindings tighter.
V. Lennox,An American and the London Season
From her seat beside Violet in the carriage, the Honorable Mrs. Harold Barnes glanced dubiously at her from beneath the brim of her hat. The look clearly asked,Are you quite well, child?
Violet was not well. She was a mess of doubt and confusion held together by the power of her corset and sheer resolve. Today was the day she was running away, and she was not at all confident in her plan. Suppressing yet another nervous giggle, Violet gave her chaperone what she hoped was a bland smile.
The woman’s brow drew together in puzzlement. “Are you certain that you are feeling up to attending this lecture?”
“Oh yes, I’m quite well, thank you. I believe that whatever ailed me the past couple of days has gone.” She had at least recovered enough to stop wallowing in self-pity and plan her escape.
Lord Ware thought he could force her hand, and her parents seemed very happy to allow him to do it. Well, shewould not go willingly to that fate. She would follow August’s example and chart her own course. Perhaps that was the problem all along. Violet had gone along with things to keep the peace and make her mother happy until she had stopped asking for the things she wanted. She had been too willing to compromise. Not anymore. From this day forward, she would take control of her life.
The rejection letter had solidified one thing for her. She would not be an ornament who wrote books that told women how they should behave like ornaments. Beyond that, she didn’t know what the future held.
Mrs. Barnes gave a brisk nod, the ungainly ostrich plume on her hat threatening to topple the whole thing from her head, but she continued to regard Violet with the occasional arch glance as the family carriage took them to the British Museum.
Violet could not blame the woman for being doubtful. Before they had left, Violet had rushed to her mother to give her yet another hug. Before that, Violet had stolen into Papa’s study to tell him goodbye. He, too, had given her much the same look that Mrs. Barnes was giving her now. Despite the fact that they were trying to marry her off, Violet did not hate her parents. She loved them very much, even if they were misguided. She genuinely wished they would understand, but they wouldn’t, which is why she had decided to take this drastic step. Perhaps a bit of time apart would help them understand her stance.
Yesterday she had written two letters. One had been privately dispatched to the mistress of the boardinghouse in Windermere notifying her of her planned arrival. The second had been left hidden in her armoire to be found after she had time to get away. She didn’t want her family to worry overly much. It explained that she had taken her savings and would be safe. In fact, she had enough savings from her allowance to live very comfortably for a year or two, three or four if she economized and had her brother,Max, sell the stock shares he held in her name. Last night, she had sewn half of her savings into the lining of her coat, while the other half was wrapped in linen and stuffed in her boot. A tiny portion had been put into her handbag for traveling expenses. She would be fine.
Lonely but fine. Dear God, what was she doing? August and Max were probably in New York by now. She would not see them for months at the earliest. Her parents would be so angry with her that they probably wouldn’t speak to her for a long time. Possibly a year or more.
What if Rothschild refused to allow August to associate with her now? What if by leaving she was consigning herself to a fate of eternal spinsterhood and social exile?
“Miss Crenshaw? Are you quite all right?”
Violet opened her eyes to the ostrich plume dangling in her face as Mrs. Barned leaned over her. “I’m fine.” Her voice was hoarse and weak.
“You are as pale as parchment,” the woman proclaimed. “We should get you home at once. You’re still poorly.”
“No!” Her voice was a bit too loud, causing Mrs. Barnes’s thin eyebrows to nearly disappear into her hairline. “No, that won’t be necessary,” she said in a calmer tone. “I’ve been home for days already, and I felt fine after visiting Lady Helena’s yesterday.”
“All right,” said Mrs. Barnes. “But we are going to get you home directly after.”
Violet nodded. The lump in her throat was not allowing her to say anything. The poor woman didn’t know that Violet would be gone before the lecture ended. She planned to slip out during it with the excuse that she felt unwell, while convincing the woman to stay in her seat. That would give her approximately an hour at most before the woman began to look for her. Then she would leave and hire a carriage, which she would direct to take her to Lady Helena’s where she had hidden her portmanteau the day before. Lady Helena wasn’t home, so Violet would simply pick it up from aservant and then head toward King’s Cross. She would have to hurry to make the twelve thirty train to Manchester, but it was possible. If she missed it, there would be another at two forty-five.
And if Violet believed deeply enough that all of that would work out flawlessly, then it would. She nearly groaned at the tenuous nature of her plan but managed to hold the sound back to spare poor Mrs. Barnes. Dread settled like a lead weight in her stomach.
You can do this, Violet.
She could, because she was prepared. She had spent her time in solitude poring through newspapers and books and writing directions for herself that planned for all sorts of contingencies. Train canceled? She had another route written down. A delay? Then she knew the major towns along the route and could arrange accommodations. If someone wondered why she was traveling alone? Well, she was a governess on her way to her first family in Windermere. She even had a lovely letter of introduction that explained everything, should it be needed. So while she was anxious, she was also prepared.
She was almost twenty years old. It was high time that she stopped waiting for others to solve her problems. With resolve straightening her spine, she forced what she hoped passed for a pleasant smile and offered her hand to the groom when he opened the carriage door. Together, Violet and her chaperone hurried into the museum beneath a sky that was horribly gray.
They barely had enough time to get themselves to the crowded room before the lecture began, which was a blessing, because Violet could not engage in polite discourse any longer. Her mind was whirling with her plans. Only a handful of seats remained near the back of the room, so they quickly settled themselves there. Egyptology was of particular interest to Mrs. Barnes, being the one subject the woman could talk on for hours—aside from idle gossip. Itwas no time at all before her complete focus was on the lecturer at the front of the room. A sarcophagus was displayed to his left, and when the speaker gestured to different parts of it as he discussed them, the older woman raised a pair of mother-of-pearl opera glasses to her eyes.
Violet’s heart was pounding too loudly for her to pay attention to the man. She forced herself to count to five hundred, and then she leaned over. “I have to step outside the room. It’s rather stuffy.” She knew she didn’t have to force herself to appear unwell; the color had probably leached from her face all on its own.
