Page 34 of These Violet Delights
Violet shivered and caught herself before she could lean fully against him. She decided he did not need to keep his mouth so near to her face; why was he doing that? Why had he charged into the Florizel after her? He was confounding. There was the man who had insulted her paintings in London and the man cradling her gently on his horse now, and how could they be the same? To discard the one in favor of the other felt like an abandonment of self-respect she couldn’t abide.
You must think of Emilia now and keep her from making a terrible mistake…
“I see it,” Violet said, sighing with relief as he brought the horse to a walk. They stopped just in view of the dull glow emanating from the hollow. The rain eased a little, and Mr. Kerr slid down from the horse, reaching up for her. He handled her cautiously, careful not to graze her against his chest as he set her feet onto the spongy earth. With a furrowed, shy glance, he offered his arm.
“The way is uneven,” he said. “Take care that you do not sink into the mud.”
“That is all I need,” she muttered. “Another twisted ankle.”
They moved gradually, for the hollow was not far from the stream on their right, and the ground was sodden from both the storm and proximity to the water. A gradual hill loped down to the stream, a good number of trees protecting the placefrom the road behind them and to the left. She noticed a pair of footprints running parallel to theirs and pointed.
“Oh, Freddie,” he grunted. “You damned fool.”
“You don’t think…He wouldn’t…”
Mr. Kerr said nothing but went with greater haste, tugging her along. Violet struggled to match his stride, clinging to his arm to keep from slipping. The trees offered some shelter, and as the storm moved on, she saw the lantern and the reddish light pouring from the mouth of the hollow with greater clarity. There were sounds now, too, smacking and sighing, and the occasional giggle that she instantly knew belonged to Emilia.
“This may not be a sight fit for a delicate lady,” Mr. Kerr warned, holding her back.
“Please.” Violet withdrew her hand, marching toward the lantern. “There will be time for delicacy when Emilia is safely back at Pressmore.” She ducked into the hollow, interrupting Freddie’s exploration of Emilia’s bare neck and shoulders. His hand shot out from under her skirts.
“Christ!” Freddie screamed, flying back against the stone and banging his head.
“Violet!” Emilia gasped and scrambled to cover herself as Mr. Kerr stepped into view at Violet’s side. “Mr. Kerr! This is…We weren’t…That is to say…”
“Say nothing and dress now,” Violet huffed, turning around to give them some privacy. “Honestly, Emilia, everyone is in an uproar looking for you. Ann and Lane are beside themselves.”
“That’s a surprise,” Emilia murmured. Fabric rustled. Freddie muttered to himself. Violet stared up at the slick stones of the hollow above, irritated. “They hardly notice anything about me these days. And it was you who told me Freddie still cared, Violet. Why say such a thing if you hate the idea of our love?”
She felt rather than saw Mr. Kerr’s eyes swivel toward her.
Violet pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “You were so unbelievably miserable! I was just trying to keep you from harming yourself further!”
“Miss Arden…”
She shook her head, refusing to look up at Mr. Kerr. “What do we do?”
Mr. Kerr shifted. “Ordinarily, one would demand they marry given what they have likely accomplished here this evening…” He squeezed his face hard with one hand. “Yet that is precisely what they want, to be married, an outcome which could put our mother into an early grave. She would not withstand the disappointment.”
“So,” said Violet, softly, “it is our secret.”
“We never saw them here,” he added.
“They were independently lost, waylaid by the storm,” Violet continued, nodding. “And we will return them home, the whole ugly business forgotten.”
Freddie joined them, still shrugging on his rain-dampened jacket. “You can’t do that! We should be forced to marry; I’ve gone and made love to—”
Mr. Kerr whirled on his brother, drawing up to his full size, his arm stiffening as if he meant to strike the words right out of Freddie’s mouth. “You are in the presence of a lady,” he said, seething, then paused, glanced toward Emilia, and drew a calming breath, lowering his shoulders somewhat. “You are in the presence of two ladies. Mind yourself. How many times must disaster be averted on your behalf?”
Eager to be somewhere dry, cozy, and close to a bed, Violet extended her hand toward Emilia. “Come, dearest. I will get you back to Pressmore.”
“Yes,” said Emilia miserably, dragging herself toward themouth of the cave. “And you will tell Ann what happened, and just like Ruby, I will be shipped back to Lakhnau.”
“No, Mr. Kerr and I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” Violet replied. “And we will find you—ouch! ” She hissed and shook out her hand, having forgotten its tender state. Emilia had grabbed it hard, and pain sizzled through Violet’s entire body. Before she could explain herself, Mr. Kerr was there, holding her wrist, offering up the wounded palm to the light of the lantern for inspection.
“This is far worse than I assumed. You should be taken to a physician at once,” he said, his solemn grimace perhaps giving away more than his measured words. Violet hazarded a close look at her palm, where the once-peachy skin had become violently red and wrinkled, the rain and her grip on the saddle aggravating the burn. It bubbled and oozed, and a thick curl of flesh came away, peeling back to reveal a glistening patch beneath.
“O-oh dear,” said Mr. Kerr, sounding green. She had no idea if his face matched his tone, for all at once she could not see. Exhausted. Freezing. Damp. The shock of fear hit behind the nose, blurring her vision and tightening her guts before the hollow started to spin and Violet collapsed.
