"Word has it he got in his cups and attacked one of his classmates,"
Mary's words from the evening before rattled around in Violet's mind like a trapped bird. "Nearly killed the man."
How could four little words affect her so greatly?
"Nearly killed the man."
The very thought that Mary's words could be truth pierced her with guilt. It was likely the result of servant gossip, continuously spun and stretched, and retold like a fairy tale. Mary had proven herself as untrustworthy, certainly. And yet, Violet still felt a nagging pinch at the base of her stomach, that perhaps, to some extent, her stories could have truth in it. She knew she needed the truth from Edmund about what happened in Oxford. Yet, she had no idea how to ask him about it without offence.
When the sun finally stretched through Violet's window, she was already dressed and ready to begin the day. The truth was that Violet had awoken before the sun, and spent hours waiting restlessly for it to rise. The Langeys had not arrived back from their ball from the night before, leaving Violet alone with her thoughts, and of course, the children, who still slept soundly in their respective rooms.
Violet decided with the sun freshly in the sky, she could justify beginning her day. The children would not be awake for a few more hours, and Violet had no appetite for breakfast, so she took to the gardens. She found just as much peace in the morning air as she did with the evening, but it was different. The flowers were freshly awaking from the night, and the birds sang the morning in with their soft melodies. Violet took her surroundings in, as she walked through the gardens. She always felt so comforted in the fresh air, as though it possessed healing powers.
The sky was marbled pink and orange, matching many of the flowers which surrounded her. Violet pulled a small knife from the pocket of her apron, and knelt in front of a patch of daisies. She held a daisy stem in her left hand, and sliced the blade through it. Violet carefully laid the severed flower on the grass by her side, as she continued to pick more. She reckoned it was time for a fresh vase of flowers in the school room. The ones which currently sat in the school room's oriental vase were beginning to wilt and die.
By the time Violet had a decent cluster of daisies picked and piled atop one another, the rhythmic sound of carriage wheels and horse's hooves sounded from behind. She craned her neck and watched as it stopped and spit out the Langley family. Mr. Alfred Langley departed from the carriage first, and even from a distance, Violet could see the dark circles under his eyes. His cravat was loose around his neck, likely as an attempt to give him some comfort. She watched as Mr. Langley helped his wife out of the carriage next. Mrs. Langley briefly took his hand as she stepped down onto solid ground. But all within a breath, she marched away with a heated stride, as she clutched her silk shawl closed around her arms. The ostrich feather in her hair shook like an angry finger waving at a child. She appeared to be slightly vexed as she abandoned her male counterparts by the carriage. But then, when was Mrs. Langley not vexed by something or other?
Violet continued to watch the family from a distance, frozen in her own curiosity. She caught her breath when Edmund hopped out of the carriage, looking rather undone in his dark vest and rolled shirtsleeves. His coat draped over his arm, and he carried his tophat with a sturdy grip on its rim. Even in his clear exhaustion from the long night, Edmund looked impossibly handsome.
Edmund strode a few paces behind his brother, watching Mrs. Langley as she lead the way to the great house. Violet tried to wave at him, to attain his attention, but none of the Langleys seemed to notice her standing in the garden. They quickly disappeared inside the house. Not long after Violet heard angry voices shouting from within, likely from the drawing room. The voices were muffled, so she could not make out what was being spoken, but she reckoned it was nothing good. She wondered what happened at the ball to cause such an uproar.
After several minutes the voices died and Edmund burst outside into the gardens. He paused when he caught Violet's stare.
"Good morning," he said, smiling softly. He took Violet's hand and kissed it, much too swiftly to be caught by any prying eyes.
"It seems you have had a long night," Violet mused. Her skin burned where Edmund's lips had just been. She shook her hands and rubbed her palms against her apron, as if trying to wipe off the memory of his touch.
"Much too long for my tastes," Edmund said with a tired smile. "Here, let us walk for a while. I've been wanting to speak with you for some time and have never found the chance."
Violet's heart quickened instantly. She wanted to speak with him as well, but how could she? How could she accuse Edmund of something she didn't even know was true? Her guilt of half-believing Mary's words felt like constant hefty blows to her stomach. All Violet could do was nod and scurry to the cover of the hedge maze--the only place the two were safe together.
Edmund led Violet around the first corner of the maze, so they were no longer visible from the house. He ran his fingers through his dark locks and rested his eyes on her, readying himself for whatever he planned to say next.
"Violet, you must know. . .surely you must know that I am yours entirely," Edmund said. He stood dangerously close to Violet, so close that his hot breath warmed her lips. In a sudden burst, he clutched Violet's hands into his, giving them a quick squeeze of affection. "And as such, I find no other reason to ask you--
"I must ask you something first, if I may," Violet interjected. Her voice wavered with nerves as she watched Edmund's face fall in confusion. She could guess what Edmund wanted to ask her, or at least she hoped she could guess. But something in Violet tugged at her to stop him. She had to know the truth of Oxford, the full truth.
"Will you tell me about Oxford?"
Where Violet's words ended Emund's countenance shifted. His jaw dimpled as he clenched it, and the light seemed to go out of his expression. "It is only that some of the servants have insinuated that you had, a kind of, altercation."
Edmund released his hold on Violet's hands, leaving them to fall, abandoned, on the sides of her worn skirts. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a step away from her. Violet's stomach stung at this shift in Edmund. Had she been mistaken in asking him?
"No, you are right. I should tell you," Edmund sighed, as if answering her thoughts. "It is not something I am proud of, and thus prefer to keep it in the silence of my memories. But you deserve to know." He turned his back to Violet, as if mustering the courage to speak again.
"I was struggling at University when it happened. I like to learn with my hands, by doing, but becoming a physician is largely studying dusty textbooks and passing exams. And then my mother died. She was the only member of my family that I was truly close with. And suddenly she was gone, and I felt guilt for not being there when she passed," Edmund said. His head hung down, as if he was too ashamed to look at Violet. "I was such a wreck that I didn't travel home for her funeral. Instead I poured myself into drink. I suppose a part of me felt that I should have been able save her somehow, to heal her, but of course I know now I couldn't have."
"You are not to blame for her death," Violet said softly, trying to find some comforting words. Her stomach dropped when Edmund finally looked at her, and found tears in his eyes. "Still, I was a broken man, and I started drinking heavily to numb the pain. One night, I had been drinking considerably at a pub, and one of my classmates began taunting me. He said some unsavory things about my mother, which I cannot repeat. But I snapped."
The more Edmund spoke, the heavier Violet's heart felt. She had feared Edmund's violence, like she feared Alfred Langley's violence. But something in her knew Edmund was very different from her brother. He was not the same.
"I beat him. I knew my anger and pain was displaced, but I did not stop--I could not stop--until he was almost unconscious. I am not proud of my actions, Violet, and I want you to know that I have never been in my cups like that since. I--I am not my father." The pain in Edmund's eyes was that of a child's. True and ashamed. Violet wanted nothing more than to embrace him, but she restrained herself. Instead, she closed the distance between them, and grazed her fingertips against his hands. It was her turn to hold them, and kiss them.
"You are not your father," she whispered in agreement. She had never seen him like this, so vulnerable. Usually he was the strong confident one that consoled her.
"That--that is not all," Edmund said. He drew his hands away again, preparing to tell Violet the final blow. "The reason that I owed Alfred--that I felt the need to help his financial troubles more than being a dutiful brother. I told Alfred in a panic what I had done, and he came to London has soon as he had received my letter. He paid off the classmate and everyone in the pub not to report me to the police. I suspect he also paid for silence in keeping it away from Oxford. If they knew what had happened, I would surely have been thrown out of university."
"I see," Violet said softly. It made so much sense, now--Edmund's obligation to Alfred, why, after so many arguments, did he stay by his brother's side, and continue to support him.
"Alfred and I do not have the best relationship, but he was there for me in my time of need, and he brought me out of my slumber. For that I will always be grateful."
"Thank you. I understand now." It was all Violet needed to say. Because she did understand. She thought she would have been bothered more by Edmund's declaration, but she wasn't. It was then that Violet realised how much she really loved Edmund. She loved him for his goodness and his strengths, but she also loved him for his faults. Her Papa used to tell her that love was loving someone for all of themselves. If you cannot love the bad in a person, then you do not deserve to love the good in them.
"Do you forgive me?" Edmund asked. He said this with such hope and fear that Violet could not help but smile.
"There is nothing to forgive. Our pasts should not have the authority to hold on to the happiness of our future."
With those words, Edmund smiled and cupped Violet's face in his hands. He kissed her softly, and in that moment, Violet felt that nothing could stop them.
How naive she was.
Edmund never got to ask Violet his question he had held for her. All too soon, Violet was summoned back to the house, as the children had awoken, and Violet was tethered back to her duties. The day drifted away quickly, as Violet carried herself in a cloud of reverie. Edmund's vulnerability made her feel closer to him, and something in her seemed to burst at their connection. Mrs. Langley even dismissed her early for the evening, telling her that she wished to spend time with the children for herself for the rest of the night. There was so much hope in Violet's heart as she soaked in the quietness of the school room. After dinner Violet had felt too restless to stay contained in her room, so she decided to tidy up the children's study. She put a stack of books back on a bookshelf. A Midsummer Night's Dream caught her eyes, which stuck out slightly in the line of book spines. It made her smile, as it somehow made her think of Edmund. Though in truth, everything made her think of Edmund these days.
"Violet, Mrs. Langley wishes to see you in the drawing room," a footman said, bursting through the door. Violet jumped, surprised at the interruption.
"Oh, thank you Johnny," she said. He nodded and disappeared, leaving Violet by her lonesome once again. A wave of nervous tingles spread up her hands, but she shook the sensation away. Whatever did Mrs. Langley want at this time of night? The children were likely asleep by now.
Her thoughts raced silently as Violet scurried through the halls to the drawing room. She knew something was deeply wrong as soon as she met Mrs. Langley's cold, angered eyes.
"Violet, I am tired and vexed, and thus will keep my speech short and to the point. I have become aware of your incredibly inappropriate relationship with my brother in-law."
Everything in Violet's body went cold.