Page 89 of Beyond Her Manner
“I don’t think so.” Viola looked towards the lodge, then wondered if Gillian was looking out at them through herbinoculars. She turned back to Bridget, who was staring at her with a softness about her eyes.
“You know, when she first came here, she didn’t speak much about her past. I never questioned her about it. I assumed she would talk about it if she wanted to, but she never did. I got the impression she didn’t think much of her mother.”
Viola nodded.
“She might not let people in, but it doesn’t mean we can’t see in. She isn’t that good at hiding things. She’s only human — don’t tell her I said that.” Bridget smirked. “She and Jonathon were never Cinderella and Prince Charming, you know, yet somehow, they made it work. I saw her eyes drift enough times to women to get an understanding of the truth. At first, I thought she was admiring their fashion, but I sensed it was more the shape of what lies beneath that enraptured her.”
Unsure how to respond, Viola remained silent. She couldn’t confirm anything; that would be outing Gillian.
“I’ve noticed that same look directed at you recently. You seem to have awoken something in her. Which is remarkable, really,” Bridget added, “considering there was a time she blamed you for everything.”
Viola smiled, knowing the impact she had made. Not that it changed anything. “She’s too proud.”
Bridget placed a hand on Viola’s arm, her expression calm yet firm. “She always was. Give her time. Leave her to understand what she’s missing. People come to terms with themselves in their own way.”
Viola sighed and nodded as uncertainty filled her eyes. “I hope so,” she murmured. “For her sake.”
“I know it’s not something we can ask of you, but I urge you to sell the manor to someone who will be sensitive to Kingsford… and its inhabitants.” Bridget glanced at the lodge.
Unsure exactly how much of Gillian’s future financial situation she should disclose, Viola decided less was best. Like her sexuality, it wasn’t for her to mention.
“I promise you, only someone Gillian approves of will buy it.”
“Thank you,” Bridget replied, exhaling a breath. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. Keep in touch, won’t you?”
“I will,” Bridget answered, reaching forward and hugging Viola.
With a rub of Viola’s shoulder, Bridget flashed her a smile, and they parted, walking their separate ways. Viola was going to miss her. Bridget was down to earth, honest, and someone grounding for Gillian, whether either of them realised it or not. She knew how to read her friend like an open book, never missing a beat.
Feeling the need to lift her spirits, she headed to the stable. Dudley would cheer her up. As she approached his stall, he whinnied at her, stretching his neck over his door.
“Hey, Dudley.”
His lips twitched as Viola stroked his nose.
“I haven’t got anything for you, I’m afraid. You just get me today. I hope that’s enough.”
He snorted, scattering a puff of warm breath into the cool air.
“I’m going to miss you, almost as much as I’ll miss your annoying mistress. I was looking forward to spending more time with you.”
A tear ran down her cheek at the realisation she wouldn’t see the horse again. She wanted to leave as soon as possible in hopes it would ease her pain, but the thought of not being at Kingsford caused pain too. She knew she must force herself to leave, but it didn’t make it any easier to do. She needed to heal away from here and come to terms with not being enough for Gillian to push herself out of her comfort zone.
Dudley nudged against her hand as she stroked him. Taking out her phone, she wrapped her arm under his neck and pressed her face to his. She smiled, thinking back to when she felt a little afraid of him. Dudley nuzzled against her shoulder as she took a selfie.
“Bye, Dudley.”
Pulling herself away she gave him one last stroke on the nose and walked away. The sound of his feet stamping against the stable floor made her tears flow again.
As she neared the manor, she blinked through her blurry vision and could make out Agatha in the distance. Wiping her sleeve across her damp eyes, she caught sight of the cat weaving her way around the far side of the building. Curious, she followed at a careful distance.
When she rounded the corner, she arrived just in time to see a tail flick out of sight, vanishing through a cellar window. Noticing a small pane of glass missing — just large enough for a cat to slip through — she crouched down, leaning closer to peer into the shadows below.
“Agatha.”
From somewhere in the darkness, a small, rather disgruntled meow echoed back.
