Page 48 of Beyond Her Manner
“Do I? Oh,” Gillian said quietly.
“Yes.”
“It’s just my way. I don’t mean anything by it.”
“Do you ever consider how your words might sound to others?”
Gillian acknowledged what she was saying with a straightening of her lips. She hadn’t, but something in Viola’s voice said she should.
She turned her attention to Viola’s outfit, which comprised beige jodhpurs, a white shirt and her tweed jacket. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, revealing a long neck.
“You certainly look the part,” Gillian said, immediately thinking she looked more than the part. She was breathtaking.
“I know how fuss—fastidious,” Viola quickly corrected herself at the raise of one of Gillian’s eyebrows, “you are about people dressing appropriately for the task at hand.”
“I’m not entirely sure about the trainers,” Gillian said, furthering Viola’s point. “I’m sure I have a pair of boots that you can borrow.”
“I was hoping you might. Do I get to see any more of your home?”
“Oh. Of course, come through.” Gillian led her through to the sitting room.
Viola surveyed the room for a long moment before pronouncing it, “Cute.”
“More cosy than cute,” Gillian said, “and not in a positive sense.”
“It is cute and cosy,” Viola pressed, taking in the room. “Sometimes I dream of having a smaller house again. The manor wasn’t meant for me alone, and it’s a big place to rattle around in by yourself. I’ve never lived so rurally before; it can be quite scary at times, particularly at night.”
“You are perfectly safe. It’s safer here than the city. People that aren’t meant to be here stand out a mile away. Tea? I have coffee, but I don’t recommend it. It wouldn’t live up to your high-end expectations.”
Viola hesitated for a moment, then answered with a smile. “I’ll have whatever you’re having, thanks.”
When Gillian reappeared with a tea tray, she found Viola looking at some framed photographs on the windowsill. A pair of binoculars sat beside them.
“You have a good view of the manor from here,” Viola said, quickly turning her attention out the window.
“Yes,” Gillian answered, setting the tea tray on the table.
“I don’t think I appreciated how difficult it must have been for you, moving from there to here. Every day seeing the manor from your window — sometimes at remarkably close proximity through a pair of binoculars.”
Gillian’s face blushed as she joined Viola by the window, only for her to flash a teasing smile.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to make light of your loss. I’m envious that you have such an attachment to a place. I’ve never stood still long enough to form one to anything.”
“Does that include people?” Gillian asked.
Viola looked back out the window and let out a sigh. “Yes, I suppose it does. Until recent years anyway, when I grew close to my mum. Even that didn’t last.”
“You once said you never had a long-term relationship.”
“It’s hard enough to find friends to trust, let alone lovers. You never know if the next person will kiss and tell, so you tend to avoid it altogether.”
All Gillian could think was what a waste it was. This woman deserved to be cherished and loved every day, to feel the warmth of genuine affection and the joy of being deeply desired. It was heartbreaking to imagine her spending all those years in solitude, her beauty and spirit unnoticed and unappreciated, missing out on the intimate connections that brings meaning to life. Viola deserved more than simply existing; she deserved to be seen and adored.
Her thoughts fell back to herself. Didn’t she deserve this too? Having experienced this with Hen, if only for a short time, sheknew how wonderful it felt. She also knew how it felt to lose it. Maybe they were both better off alone in the world.
“Anyway, enough of my depressing personal life,” Viola said, taking a seat. “Fill me in on the plans for the ball. I’ve got some ideas too.”
“You do?”
