Page 61 of Too Wanton to Wed
“They’re gone.” Jenny slid her heavy tray onto the top of Lily’s escritoire. “Master Waldegrave is taking his leave of the last one right now.”
“And he isnotin a good humor,” Elsa added under her breath as she arranged the milk and tea.
Marvelous. Violet thanked them for the food and bade them good afternoon. As she nibbled at a bite of boiled potato, her gaze was continually drawn to the hands of the clock. As much as she enjoyed Lily’s company—and a warm meal—she could not stay here forever. Visiting his daughter would undoubtedly be Mr. Waldegrave’s first stop after seeing off the last of his guests, and Violet was not up for a confrontation over her conspicuous absence.
She did need to address having been forcibly restrained from leaving the abbey, but that particular argument seemed disingenuous at the moment, given there was nowhere to go. And what didthatsay about her current turn of affairs? Well, she certainly couldn’t claim to be unwanted.
She snorted softly. “Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.”
Lily glanced up from her meal, one cheek smeared with orange marmalade. “Hrmph?”
“Nothing, Tiger Lily. Except I have to go back to my own chamber now. We’ve been in this room together for nearly three straight days. Aren’t you tired of me yet?”
“Huh-uh.” Lily threw her arms around Violet’s waist and let herself hang on dead-weight, smearing orange marmalade across Violet’s morning dress and nearly toppling her over in the process.
“All right, you,” she chastised good-humoredly as she plucked the giggling little girl from her skirts. “Now Idefinitelyneed to bathe and change. Your papa should be by before too long, and I’ll see you soon. Try to behave, please.”
The answering look of mischief in Lily’s eyes lent no hope whatsoever to proper behavior, but Violet secretly could not have been more pleased.
Lily was finally misbehaving as a nine-year-old girl ought. No table manners, a disinclination for mathematics, frequent snits over the brushing of her hair or whether she must eat boiled vegetables—all of these were far more welcome than the frightened animal of a child who had attacked anyone who entered the sanctuary and scratched and bit her own father out of a desperate bid for attention. Lily was slowly maturing. She might never see the sun, but she was blossoming all the same.
Violet kissed the top of Lily’s head before hurrying to her bedchamber.
A long bath helped, at least on the surface. The tea tray that arrived shortly thereafter after also did not go amiss. After toweling her damp hair, she lay back against her pillows. First thing tomorrow, she needed to do some reconnaissance. A chill crept over her. Finding a trapped robin in a room that should have been long since boarded over had well and truly discomfited her. She could not claim to have caught any evildoers red-handed, but something was definitely not right inside the abbey.
She drifted in and out of troubled dreams until a knock upon her door startled her awake. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she crossed slowly to the door.
“Yes?”
“Miss Smythe, it’s me,” came Mrs. Tumsen’s familiar voice. “I’ve come to check on ye.”
Violet swung open the door in relief. “The excitement has ended?”
“I’m afraid so,” Mrs. Tumsen answered soberly.
Frowning, Violet took a small step backward. “Did something happen?”
“That’s the problem. It seems nothing has happened. Again. When ye got the master praying for miracles and human gents unable to make any... Saying he’s disappointed is kind of like saying Bonaparte was a mite competitive. If ye pardon the comparison.”
Violet nodded in understanding. Whatever one might say about Mr. Waldegrave, his devotion to his daughter was wholehearted and absolute. If the respected scientists he’d been so eagerly anticipating had been unable to provide any hope whatsoever... Her heart twisted. He would be devastated, and doubtlessly twice as determined as before.
“That poor man,” she murmured.
Mrs. Tumsen gave her an odd look. “Poor gel, don’t ye mean?”
Violet shook her head. “I wish Lily were healthy, of course, but every day brings her a slightly greater measure of peace. I doubt her father has ever experienced such a thing.”
Mrs. Tumsen chuckled. “Ye’d be right about that. Not in the past decade, anyway. Oh, and before I forget, I’ve got that key ye asked for.”
Violet pressed a hand to her unadorned throat.
Mrs. Tumsen nodded, and held out her hand. “I won’t ask why ye wanted another copy, but I hope it was worth the eight pence.”
“Peace of mind is always worth every penny.” From Mrs. Tumsen’s outstretched hand, Violet plucked the worn skeleton key on its chain and a shiny new key forged in its image. If she were truly a prisoner here in the abbey, a spare key would not go amiss if Mr. Roper chose to divest her of her old one. Since it was common knowledge she kept her key about her neck, she’d tuck the new copy deep in her pocket.
“Oh, one more thing, if you would be so kind.” Violet turned toward her escritoire. “Can I give you a bit more correspondence to post for me, please?”
“Of course, dear. None of them barristers worked out for ye?”
