CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dawn had yet to break as their carriage crested the last ridge before arriving at Foldger’s Hall. How Viola longed to tell the driver to keep going, past her father’s estate and on to Foldger’s Foals—her safe haven. The place she’d grown from a petty, naive girl whose only dream had been to uphold the standards of a society that took pleasure in forsaking their own, to a woman who had learned to support not only herself, but others who had survived fates so much worse than her own.
It would not be a safe haven for long, she knew; they’d only returned to liquidate the remaining property. Soon, they would return to London and, her father had explained as they sat out late the night before, Vi would have to make amends—to Lady Darlingiver, Lord Haversham, and society as a whole.
She sighed.
While she did owe Lady Darlingiver an apology for ruining her party, she didn’t understand why she’d be made to make amends with Brock or the insufferable people who made up the ruling class in London. Had they apologized to the girl who’d been ridiculed relentlessly over the years for mistakes made in her youth? Mistakes that were caused by the entitlement bred into her since her birth? In her estimation, they owed her, and every other debutante, an apology. Atonement was owed for the pressures they’d put on young girls to dress a certain way, act a certain way, show deference to their betters, but mostly for robbing them of their youth—a time better spent educating themselves in the languages of the world, the art of poetry, and the fulfillment of hard work, not the quest to marry above their station without the benefit of love or respect.
Now, where had that come from?
Vi knew she would never know the true, undying love of a man, except that given by her father. And respect…in her experience, men rarely respected females. Whether it be their wife, mother, or a passing acquaintance, it mattered naught.
Ruby leaned lightly against her, having fallen into a deep slumber the second they left her father’s townhouse. Vi envied her friend’s relaxed state. Several times on the four-hour journey she’d sought oblivion in sleep, but that comfort eluded her. With nothing else to do, she’d stared out at the inky night as it passed, listening to her father’s light snoring from his seat while she pondered her mistakes, trying to reconcile her future.
Occasionally, Ruby sighed in her sleep and Vi wondered what she dreamt about. Part of her was glad sleep didn’t find her, because she was certain it would be wrought with nightmares. Yes, while awake she could guide her thoughts, but in sleep she’d be helpless to stop her mind from wandering to subjects better left alone.
“Father,” she called quietly as they rolled to a stop, not wanting to startle him out of his slumber. When his eyelids fluttered, Vi continued. “We have arrived.”
The next few hours passed in a haze as Vi inventoried all her belongings at Foldger’s Foals and also at her father’s estate. She hadn’t known his intent was to be rid of all her worldly possessions. Did he see it as a sort of punishment for her actions and behavior the previous evening? He should see that she’d punished herself relentlessly over the last eight years… Discarding her possessions would have no effect on her.
Her sitting room had been emptied and her bedroom likewise, except for her bed and dressing closet. If she’d hoped to return to her father’s country estate in the near future, that hope was dashed as she packed every item, from her many dresses to the hair ribbons nearly forgotten since her youth.
Vi had instructed a coach be filled, and knew it was already en route to Mrs. Hutton and the children. Her children. A note tucked safely into a box of old dresses instructed Mrs. Hutton to cut down her sturdy stables dresses to make durable clothes for the children. Simple frocks for the girls, and pants for the boys.
Now, Vi was preparing to meet with a man who sought to purchase the excess tack from the ranch when she realized she still wore her purple gown—the gown she’d thought would start her life anew, wipe away all the sins of her past. That hadn’t been the case, and for a moment she feared she had not changed or grown as much as she’d tried to convince herself. Truthfully, she’d been successful in deluding every person she knew—with the possible except of Lady Darlingiver.
No matter how much she’d disappointed her father, Vi had disappointed herself far more.
She returned to her sparsely furnished room and changed into a more suitable gown, this one of sturdy cotton, and made her way back downstairs and out the front door. The need no longer existed for Connor to act as liaison, as Vi’s affiliation was known by one and all. She dreaded meeting with him before she departed for London; he was an intelligent man, and no doubt knew his employment at Foldger’s Foals could not last longer than the property belonged to the Oberbrook family.
The walk to the hidden gate and her office was a short one. She found herself unhurried as she made her way—possibly for the final time—to the place where she’d found solace for so long. Where would she find that contentment now? Years ago she hadn’t been mature enough, concerned enough, to feel the unease she did at this moment.
The grass, wet with late morning dew, clung to her slippers much like that early morning years ago. The smell of the oak and silver birch trees; the sight of all the men huddled in small groups… the sound of pistols firing. The shots had echoed loudly as both men dropped to the ground. Why had she not registered the ear-splitting sound then?
“Lady Viola?” a vaguely familiar voice called.
She took her gaze off her feet and looked ahead to the man who had spoken her name. “Hamp—Lord Darlingiver? What a pleasant surprise. Were you not just in London last eve?” He had been there, she was positive of that.
“Yes. I rode to my estate, only an hour’s ride from here, early this morning.” He smiled. “I am scheduled to meet with you today…” He looked up at the sun, as if judging the hour before he continued. “Right now, actually.”
“I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about.” The only meeting she knew about was with a man seeking to purchase her used horse tack. “Foldger’s Foals is no longer in business. I am sure your mother informed you thusly.” He had most likely been one of the first to know, or should have been. The image of faceless masses laughing at her expense clouded her vision.
His smile faded. “Yes, I am aware. I am the one you’re here to meet.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t think of a better reply and wasn’t sure the effort of thinking of one was worth her time.
She continued to walk toward the barn with Lord Darlingiver strolling beside her. His stride slowed to match her much shorter one, his hands clasped behind his back. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. He hadn’t changed much since their time in London when she was still a girl; he still dressed to the height of fashion, or what she presumed was fashion. He was a good looking man, cultured with a hint of arrogance.
One thing that was different about him was his confidence. He no longer walked with light steps, but with the sure, solid stride of a man comfortable with his place in the world.
“Why do you have need of my tack?” she ventured.
They entered the barn before he answered. “I have my own ranch not far from here. A stable can never have too many bridles and bale hooks—at least that is what my stable master says.” He chuckled, but Vi had no urge to join him in banter.
Why would he not send his stable master to negotiate and retrieve the supplies, she wanted to ask? Unfortunately, that would invite the question of why she was conducting her own business. They moved further into the stable, toward the tack room located halfway down the long corridor of stalls. As they approached, she heard the sound of jangling metal.
Who would be in the tack room? All her employees had either been let go, or moved to her father’s stable or their London townhouse. She did not halt or hesitate as she entered the room.
A tall form with dark hair leaned over a box, laden with bridles, lead ropes, and whips.
“Connor?” What would he be doing here? His prese
nce reinforced her need to be done with things and tell him it was time he moved on.
His head shot up as he turned in her direction. “Lady Viola. I thought I would pack the last of this room.”
He’d always sought to make things easier for her, and she felt a flicker of gratitude for the man who had stood by her side all these years. “Thank you. I would like to introduce you . . .” Vi looked to her side, expecting Hampton to be there. The spot was empty. “Lord Darlingiver?” She poked her head out the door, looking up and down the stable corridor. The man had vanished.
“Lord Darlingiver, did you say?” Connor tensed as he asked the question.
“Yes. He met me to have a look at the remaining items for sale. Are you acquainted with him?”
Connor turned back to his task, and the ensuing clatter of bridles almost drowned out his reply. “No. I mean, yes. . . . He has property not far from here, correct?”
Vi shouldn’t have been surprised: Connor had been in charge of acquiring new clients for many years. He was a good business man. “That is correct.” Why should this particular name make him uneasy?
“Well, I must get—” The bridles he’s been hanging on their pegs laid at his feet in disarray.
He was in a hurry to depart. But why, Vi wondered.
“Connor, thank you for all your hard work over the years.”
He straightened and faced her, as though sensing what was coming.
“You have always applied yourself to my business and—”
“Vi! Are you in here?” Ruby’s voice drifted down the empty stable house, echoing off the walls. “Do not think I am going to wander through this dark stable in search of you. Do come out.”
Vi laughed, glad for the reprieve. “Connor, could we talk later?”
“Of course, my lady.” He bowed.
“I am coming,” Viola shouted in Ruby’s direction. “I will come see you before I leave.”
“Good day.” He seemed to want to put off the inevitable, as well.
“Good day, Connor.”
She turned on her heel and ran from the room and down the long corridor of stalls, glancing in each as she passed in hopes of locating Hampton. She skidded to a halt before exiting the stables to take a long look behind her. Memories from the last eight years flooded her: her first time with a foal… the first time she’d been thrown from a horse… her many afternoon picnics in the hay with Ruby. How she would miss this place—the place where she’d discovered who she was, and who she would continue to strive to be. It wasn’t easy, and the journey ahead wouldn’t prove any less grueling, but it was something she had to do, if only to prove to herself that life was worth living and living well. Even if it meant going against society’s protocols.
“Do not dally,” Ruby said.
Startled, Vi turned to her friend with a smile. “You should not sneak up on people. You might see something you wish not to.”
“I hardly think so.”
Viola laced her arm to Ruby’s and turned them toward the door. “Shall we?”
“I believe that would be wise. Your father is preparing to leave, and he says we must be in the carriage within the hour.”
Within the hour? She’d thought they would spend a few days before journeying back to London. “We cannot argue with him, can we?”
Ruby shook her head. “I would not suggest it.”
As they made their way back to the estate, Vi remembered that she hadn’t been able to properly dismiss Connor, or push him to find another employer.
She stopped in her tracks before they alighted the steps into the grand house, and Ruby came to a halt beside her. She had not asked Connor about her last donation, she remembered suddenly—the one he’d said he delivered when he traveled to meet with Brock in town. The money had never reached Mrs. Hutton. Where had it gone?
It had slipped her mind with all the uproar of the past night. Now, however, the puzzle struck her full force. Vi rebelled against the possibility that a person, a friend she trusted unequivocally, might betray her. But she was certain Mrs. Hutton would not lie; she had never received the money Vi had trusted Connor to deliver. And based on the words the woman had said, this was not the only time Connor had held back funds meant for Mrs. Hutton and her children.
If he had taken the money, how was he any different than men like Brock, who had used her as his own hammering block? His verbal assault the other night had at least been aimed at her face and not behind her back.
Would she be able to handle the possibility that he’d secretly been working against her? It was not human nature to devote your life, your time, and all your energy to the dream of another. She’d often wondered why Connor was so loyal to her, and why he had given up his place in society to help her. At first she’d thought he fancied her, but as the years passed, they settled into a relationship akin to family. So much more than master and servant. Was it possible that his motivations were not as she’d thought? That he had secrets she was unaware of?
“Hurry, Vi, the household is up in arms preparing for your father to leave. There will be no one left to help us finish packing our belongings.”
Vi had been forced to leave Sarah, her maid, in town in her father’s haste the night before. “You go up and pack. I must return to the stables and have a word with Connor.” Before she could change her mind or Ruby could voice her objection, Vi turned and ran back to the gate separating the properties.
Safely out of view, she slowed her pace and squared her shoulders, hoping to gain an air of confidence.
The stable looked just as she’d left it only moments ago: empty. Devoid of the stable hands she’d gotten accustomed to running about, bare of the bales of hay that normally lined the outside of the building on one side. She knew the stalls within would seem hollow without the foals she had treasured. If she called out, her voice would bounce off the walls, barren of bridles, ropes, hay hooks, and pitch forks.
Blank, void, empty, hollow, barren. These words—the feelings invoked by them—also represented her life. There was naught left. Her ranch was gone. Her father slipped further away with each mention of the scandal she’d caused, both in her youth and the previous evening. Now, she’d also be forced to abandon Mrs. Hutton and the children. If she couldn’t give them funds, did she have anything else to give? She feared not. She was a worthless shell of a person, like so many vapid debutantes were happy to be.
“Connor?” She called into the stables quietly, not wanting to hear her voice echo. When no reply came, she moved further into the dim interior to the room where he’d last been.
As she’d expected, it sat empty.
Maybe he’d finished his task and set off for home. Maybe he knew she’d inquired with Mrs. Hutton, and found he hadn’t dropped off the donation.
There was nothing for it. When she arrived in London, she would send word to him and never have to learn the truth. It was said that what a person didn’t know could never hurt them. Vi hoped this was the case.
As she turned to go, voices raised in anger floated her way from the rear of the stable. One belonged to Connor. She’d heard it raised in volume many times as he called across a field to a stable boy or when directing a group of foals. The other voice, however, she didn’t recognize.
“. . . come here? She is done, her business failed.”
They spoke of her?
The rear stable door stood open as she approached. Her view showed no one in sight. Who could Connor possibly by arguing with? All the stables hands had been let go before she left for London.
“I wanted to ascertain that you were proceeding according to our plans.”
“You need to go. If Lady Viola sees us conversing, she will put things together. Regardless of what you think, the woman is sharp.” Connor’s voice grew louder.
“Do you think I am concerned with her and what she knows?” The unseen man chuckled. “It is too late for her to change anything. Besides, I have other reasons for being here.”
&
nbsp; “What, then? You are in need of more funds?”
Vi pictured Connor throwing up his hands in exasperation.
“Running a ranch takes money, as you well know.”
“I have no more money. As soon as the carriage departs carrying Lady Viola, her father, and Miss Ruby, I will travel to your estate. I will take over the financials and figure everything out.”
Dread, cold and thick, ran through her body. She did know that voice—it belonged to Lord Darlingiver. But why? Had they schemed against her, stolen money that should have gone to disabled children, merely to see her fail? To what end?
She took a step back and knocked into a partially open stall gate. It let out an unoiled groan as it swung closed an inch.
Vi froze.
When the men continued to argue she moved into the stall, hoping to hide in the shadows, effectively stopping their angry words from reaching her. Soon, her slow steps brought her to the back wall of the stall, and she laid her hand against the rough wood. Her other hand shielded her eyes. Some irrational part of her brain told her that if she couldn’t see them pass by the stall, then this moment hadn’t happened. She had not heard what was now seared into her memory: Betrayal. As if her world hadn’t tilted on its axis enough, this might just push it off entirely.
Her breath left in a rush of nausea and her head came to rest next to her hand on the cool wooden wall. The thought that someone had been working against her—not just someone, but one of the only people she’d trusted without reserve—was unimaginable. Unforgivable.
A sob wrenched from her chest, loud to her own ears. Tears streamed down her face and her breath quickened once again. Her chest felt as if something was trying to claw its way out and she gave up the effort of staying on her feet as she slid to the straw-covered ground.
In the distance the yelling stopped and footsteps echoed not far from her. She concentrated on determining if they belonged to one man or both, trying to stop the spinning in her head.
“Bloody hell,” Connor yelled.
A loud crash sounded as something solid hit the stall door she hid behind.
Thankfully, Connor continued through the stables and out the door.