I sat at my desk for what felt like hours. I poured my heart out to my journal, not knowing what was happening, what Patience was telling Freddie. When I exhausted all thoughts, I flipped to the back of the book and found the first violets Thomas had left for me, pressed between the pages. I smiled to myself remembering when I found them on the window sill. Then another memory came rushing back, I was pressing flowers with my mother. She was an avid collector of different flora, but being the child that I was, I was happy with books of daisies. I reached for the fresh flowers given to me today and let my fingers trace over the petals. I would have no problem letting violets replace the fondness I had for daisies. I took the book of poetry my father had at the townhouse and gingerly went about pressing my latest gift.
* * * * *
The clock was striking eight o'clock when there was knocking at bedroom door, "Come in," I answered expecting Freddie to have finally come back to me. But instead it was Clara wheeling in a tea cart with my supper, followed by Leah. "What's this?" I asked.
"Tonight's plans have changed," Leah answered, "would it be all right if I dined with you?"
"Of course," I nodded as Clara set out our meal. Once she left I turned to Leah, "What's happening? Is Freddie still here?"
"Oh yes," she said taking her seat, "He finally came downstairs maybe an hour ago. He asked Mother to sit with Mrs. Woodbridge. He said that we was quite upset."
"Go on," I urged, pushing my plate away.
"Well Mother suggested that Clara do it but Papa told her to go, and then he and Mr. Woodbridge went into his study." I had to admit that Leah was a wonder spy and gossip. She was usually overlooked, especially by her mother, yet she took in everything that was happening in this house. "That was the last I saw of anyone until Clara came with your tray."
"And Thomas?" I asked absentmindedly.
Leah looked at me keenly, "He asked how you were . . . since your brother came." She just watched as I poured myself a cup of tea. "How are you?"
"I don't know," I sighed. "I haven't told Freddie everything yet . . . "
"Are you going to tell him everything?" she asked, trying not to look at me directly.
"What do you mean?"
"Just that . . . Thomas hasn't explained yet, has he?" she started to nibble on her thumb nervously, "You don't have to tell Freddie of the awful ways he's acted . . . I mean if you don't want to." She looked around the room, still avoiding my eyes, "The pleasant times were much better, weren't they?"
"Leah, what are you getting at?"
She stood up and went to my dressing table, letting her finger trace over Percival's initials on the handkerchief. "I can't really explain," she said looking at me through the mirror, "it's not my place . . . but I believe he does really care for you, Margaret."
I looked away from Leah, I didn't know what to say. She came back to our table and resumed eating. When I did glance in her direction again, she grinned a little and nodded at my plate. Without a word I knew what she was thinking, I should eat something, especially with everything that has happened today.
* * * * *
I sat in my room waiting for Freddie, but he never came. I fell asleep in the chair beside the fire, only to be awoken by Clara when she came to check if I needed more firewood. "Miss Woodbridge," she whispered as she gently roused me, "it's time that you were in bed."
"I'm waiting for Freddie," I yawned.
"I know, dear," she said helping me out of my dress, "but you need some sleep. Everything will be new in the morning."
I tried to find the words to argue but I was too tired. Instead I was little more than a ragdoll as she helped me into my nightgown and ushered me into bed. Sleep descended on me quickly and soon I was lost in blackness, searching for violets in the moonlight.
* * * * *
Sunlight streaming across my face was my greeting in the morning. I quickly raised my hand to shield my eyes as I struggled to shake the last bits of sleep from my mind. "That's my sleepyhead," I heard Freddie's voice but I could not locate him at first, the sun was too bright.
"Draw the curtains?" I asked.
"Do you promise to get up?"
"If you draw the curtains," I retorted. Then I heard the soft swoosh as he pulled the curtains closed. "There's better ways to wake me than blinding me, Freddie."
"Do you have any idea what time it is, Margaret?"
"Early?" I inquired although judging by his tone I was going to be way off.
"Try eleven. You've been sleeping all morning," Freddie said sitting on the corner of my bed, "I was starting to worry but then I thought that you had quite the day yesterday."
All of the events of the day before came flooding back and I flung myself across the bed, catching his shoulders and burying my head in his jacket, "You came . . . " I recalled, "you're really here."
"Of course I am, Magpie," he chortled patting my hair, "You know I'll always come when you call."
"Is Patience mad?" I asked sitting back, looking at him sympathetically. I could only imagine their reunion . . . it did not go well in my mind.
"Why don't you get dressed and then you and I will go out for awhile . . . and talk?" he asked raising his eyebrows waiting for an answer. I nodded, regarding the dark circles forming from lack of sleep. "Good," he patted my knee, "be a good girl, get dressed and meet me in the foyer. I'll make sure a carriage is ready." His smile held the same warmth it always did, but I saw concern in his eyes as he left my room.
* * * * *
Freddie was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and I ran to him as I have been doing since I was a small girl, always wanting to catch up to my big brother. He took my hand and escorted me out, we said nothing to anyone. Knowing Freddie as I do, he's gone over everything with everyone concerned . . . and now it was my turn.