Page 75 of Beyond Her Manner
“You seem to be enjoying yourself. You and Viola are getting along like a house on fire.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gillian replied sharply.
Bridget recoiled. “Nothing.”
Gillian felt instant regret and squeezed Bridget’s arm. “I’m sorry, Bridget. I’m rather tired.”
The chink of a champagne glass filled the air, and the room fell into silence. Gillian made her way towards the staircase as if drawn there by a force. Bridget followed behind.
“May I have your attention, everyone?” Viola called out.
All eyes turned to Viola immediately, including Gillian’s; they didn’t want to be anywhere else. She was captivating. The room seemed to dim around her, leaving only her figureilluminated. Her curls cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made them shimmer with life.
Viola didn’t speak right away. She didn’t have to. Her presence was enough to hold everyone in a silent, shared anticipation. When her lips finally parted, her voice was soft yet strong.
“I won’t keep you from your merriment for long, but I couldn’t let the evening pass without thanking you all, not only for coming this evening, but for welcoming me so warmly to your wonderful little village.”
Everyone cheered.
“I also can’t go without thanking Gillian and Bridget for organising everything this evening. Some of you may have noticed my skills lie elsewhere, so I couldn’t have done it without them.” Viola raised her glass in their direction. “To Gillian and Bridget.”
“Gillian and Bridget,” echoed around the great hall.
“Now don’t let me keep you. Please top up your glasses and get spinning on the roulette wheel.”
Viola descended the stairs, where she was immediately embraced by Bridget. Gillian took the opportunity to wipe the corner of her eye. As the band kicked back into action with something more lively than before, Bridget pulled their host towards the dance floor.
Taking a couple of steps up the staircase, Gillian scanned the crowd, only to realise what she was doing. Jonathon was dead; she didn’t need to keep an eye on what he was up to or with whom. Not that she would ever have stopped him. She turned a blind eye to his subtle and often less subtle escapades out of necessity.
After his mother died, she had feared he might divorce her and trade her in for a newer model. He would never have done it whilst she was alive. Divorce wouldn’t have been welcomedby her, she was fond of Gillian — they were cut from the same cloth, it turned out. Jonathon cared deeply for his mother, and he wouldn’t have wished to disappoint her.
Once she was dead, though, Gillian couldn’t rest on her laurels as she had done. She believed that if she let him pursue whatever he was seeking, she would be safe. Trying to stop him, she knew, would only breed resentment.
They both knew the role she should play, and she played it flawlessly, ensuring her position as the irreplaceable lady of the manor. She also knew him better than anyone, knew his likes and dislikes, his quirks and whims. Starting over would take effort, more effort than she believed Jonathon would be willing to make.
She looked up at his dead ancestors on the walls, as much ancestors to her now as they ever were his. Living in a place for so long, and a place like Kingsford, sank into your bones; it grew you like soil grows a plant. Without it, she was wilting.
As the evening wore on, Gillian found herself constantly drawn to Viola’s side, their interactions charged with a tension that neither openly acknowledged. Every glance felt like it carried a deeper meaning, a silent conversation understood only by the two of them.
When in conversation with others, she did her best to distance herself from Viola, mindful about what the villagers may construe from physical closeness. Although she was drawn to Viola in ways she could hardly comprehend herself, the last thing she wanted was people reading too much into their friendship.
“Gillian?” Viola’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Yes?” Gillian blinked.
“I was asking if you’d like more wine,” Viola said, a flicker of concern in her eyes.
“Oh, no, thank you,” Gillian replied, trying to steady her voice. “I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”
“Are you okay? You seem a bit distracted suddenly. Is everything all right?”
Gillian nodded, grateful for the concern yet feeling the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. “I’m fine, just a little tired from a long week. I need some fresh air. Excuse me.”
Taking a moment alone to gather her thoughts, she stepped out into the garden, where the cool night air brought some welcome relief. She stared up into the vast expanse of the sky, filled by a universe of infinite stillness and endless possibilities. Here she was, nothing but a particle of it, feeling that something — someone — was pulling her towards a future of impossibility.
She wondered if Viola felt the same pull. If it was growing stronger every day as it was for her. She could feel parts of her that were once buried deep inside her trying to resurface. Forcing out a long breath into the cold air, it swirled around in front of her like a mist and dissolved into the darkness. As irresistible as Viola was, Gillian needed to ignore, control, and even fight these feelings.
Behind her, she could hear the door open and then close softly. She turned to see Viola standing there, the look of concern on her face making her even more beautiful than usual.
