Page 57 of Beyond Her Manner
“You’re very quiet this evening,” Viola said, her voice low.
Noticing Caroline and Bridget were engaged in a conversation about the logistics of organising a concert, Gillian replied, “Am I?” She took the last bite of a particularly deliciouslemon torte and placed her fork down. Mrs Johnson had outdone herself.
“Unusually so. You normally have an opinion on most things,” Viola teased.
Gillian narrowed her eyes at her host, following it up with a tightening of her lips.
“Is it being here?” Viola whispered, leaning forward.
“No,” Gillian swiftly denied. Noticing Viola’s raised eyebrow, she realised she couldn’t fool her. “Okay, it is a little strange. I’m sure it’s something to which I will become accustomed.”
Viola’s expression softened; her eyes filled with understanding. “I, for one, am glad you are here.”
A warming sensation spread through Gillian’s body. “Me too.”
The conversation shifted back to the table, with Bridget probing Caroline on the ins and outs of being an agent to some of the country’s top musicians.
With the cheeseboard wiped clean, Viola suggested they go to the drawing room for drinks. Gillian was so close behind her that she noticed a light freckling on her bare shoulders, as delicate as the ones on her face. Her skin looked soft and inviting, captivating Gillian’s attention until they entered the room and an unexpected change in the atmosphere pulled her attention away.
A new fabric adorned the windows, and matching cushions were scattered on the Chesterfields. Light and modern, it brought a refreshing feel to the room, a stark contrast to the dark, oppressive atmosphere that had once filled the room. Gillian felt a twinge of nostalgia mixed with a feeling of unease. She traced her fingers along the arm of the familiar Chesterfield, its leather smooth and cool under her touch.
Bridget’s hand rested on her shoulder, offering a brief, reassuring squeeze. Gillian nodded in acknowledgment,appreciating the silent support of her friend, who had an uncanny knack for understanding her lately. The small yet grounding gesture reminded her that she wasn’t entirely alone, even in this unfamiliar version of her own space.
Bridget took a seat next to her as Viola placed herself on the other sofa opposite Gillian. Caroline admired the room, popping her wine glass onto the mantelpiece.
Looking at the fireplace, Gillian realised the painting above it was different.
Viola seemed to notice and said, “I found that in the attic and thought it was rather thought-provoking. I hope you didn’t leave it by accident. I assumed it was one of the items you wanted to leave with the house.”
“No, not at all. Sorry, I should have thrown it away rather than leave it up there. Jonathon had a brief compulsion of wasting money on hideous, worthless artwork.”
She remembered telling Jonathon that she had thrown it out, along with the other paintings he bought, when in truth she had stashed them away in the attic. They might be junk, but the frames were reusable, and this one particularly was so old and beautiful that she hoped she might be able to repurpose it in the manor one day.
“I’m glad you didn’t throw them away. I rather like this one,” Viola said, giving the artwork of a woman stabbing a man in the back an admiring eye.
“That reminds me, Gillian,” Caroline said. “Are there any priest holes in the building?”
“Not to my knowledge. I wouldn’t expect there to be either, considering the Carmichaels were Church of England,” Gillian replied, her tone clipped.
“Oh, yes, right.” Caroline’s fingers fidgeted with the stem of her wine glass.
“So, Viola,” Bridget added quickly, “how did you and Caroline meet?”
It felt like an odd question to Gillian; she made it sound like they were a couple.
Caroline walked behind Viola and placed her hands on her shoulders.
“Now that is a story that we can’t disclose. Let’s just say a famous singer brought us together.”
“That’s a shame,” Bridget said. “We love a bit of gossip, don’t we, Gillian?”
“We certainly do not,” Gillian scowled.
Her eyes shot to Viola, embarrassed she might think her a gossip, only to see Viola lift her hand to her shoulder and tap on Caroline’s hand. It took her by surprise and made her shift in her seat. Was she reading everything wrong? Were Viola and Caroline, in fact, a couple? Viola spoke affectionately about Caroline. She also said she didn’t trust anyone enough to have a relationship, a long-term relationship more specifically. Could it just be sex? The thought unsettled her more than she liked. What did she care about who Viola had sex with? Even so, the idea gnawed at her.
Caroline collected her glass from the mantelpiece and sat next to Viola. “So, Gillian,” Caroline said. “I understand you’re organisingthesummer ball for Viola?”
Slipping her shoes off, she tucked her feet onto the seat and leaned an arm against the back of the Chesterfield, her body turned towards her friend. The sight of Viola and Caroline’s easy intimacy stirred feelings of jealousy inside her.
