Chapter Ten

1911

Laurie looked at the girl in front of him, the moonlight and the lights from the ballroom catching on her hair and reflecting in her eyes. There were tiny crystals or something similar dotted across her bodice and skirt. He hadn’t really noticed them before, but they shone like the stars right now. He felt that he was in some surreal otherworld with a sprite or a nymph or something fanciful that Medora would definitely have known the name of . . .

But that wasn’t the issue right now, and he chased that thought out of his head and took a deep breath. This was Viola Arthur, for God’s sake. His nemesis! Why was he likening her to an ethereal sprite?

But even that wasn’t the issue, and to be honest he wondered if he was getting a little tired of fighting whatever his complicated feelings were about this girl.

No. The issue right here, right now, was that man he’d been so very close to punching, and what he’d been saying about his family.

‘Laurie. What happened in there?’ Viola asked quietly, breaking the strange, eerie silence wrapped around them. ‘What on earth did he mean by all of that?’

It was, Laurie thought, perhaps the first time Viola hadn’t screeched at him like a banshee. And for a few moments in there, they had felt . . . close.

‘You were magnificent. That’s what happened.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you — that parting shot was an absolute corker.’

‘He’d been very rude about my sister.’

‘Not only your sister. My sister as well.’

Viola said nothing. It was an invitation to expand on the comments Richard had made, and Laurie debated whether he should take it or not. The silence seemed to stretch for eons, until Viola eventually broke it.

‘You don’t have to explain things if you don’t want to,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘You’re right. It doesn’t.’

‘Good.’ She nodded and picked up her skirt. ‘I’ll go back in and find Sam. Perhaps if I stick by him all night, jossers like that won’t be able to talk to me. The problem is, Sam can be a josser himself and likes nothing better than flirting with young ladies. Perhaps I’m best-off finding Elsie . . .’

‘Perhaps.’ Laurie paused, then took a step towards her. There was a strand of hair falling over her face and he couldn’t help himself — he gently moved it out of the way, then dropped his hand back down to his side. ‘All I’ll say to you is this world is full of Richards and the more you get involved with my family, the more you’ll be drawn into gossip like that.’

She looked up at him and touched the lock of hair he’d moved. ‘Gossip like that doesn’t bother me. Unless, of course, you’re trying to warn me off? Telling me to stop choosing my friends the way I do?’ There was a challenge in her eyes and to his eternal shame, he found he couldn’t answer her or reassure her or tell her that was ridiculous and he wanted her to be friends with his family — he wanted her, in that moment, in that moonlight, to be more than friends, perhaps.

But he was, for one of the first times in his life, lost for words.

Viola waited a moment more, then nodded. ‘I see,’ she said coldly. ‘Please. Excuse me, then. But, you know — thank you for coming to my rescue and all that. For one moment, I thought we might be able to be friends ourselves. I can see, though, that you clearly don’t think that’s possible. And I guess I have to respect that. Good evening, Mr Teague.’

She turned and walked purposefully back into the ballroom, swallowed up by the colourful gowns and dark suits.

‘Viola!’ He suddenly found his voice and hurried to the door. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her, but he had a feeling that whatever tentative connection they’d built in those few moments had fallen down like a sandcastle at the seaside. He saw her, walking briskly towards Elsie and Louis. A brief conversation ensued, then her brother appeared. There was more conversation and then Sam and Viola danced one more waltz, then left the party.

And in all that time, Laurie stood on the balcony, leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pocket, and never taking his eyes from Viola.

He remained there for a while after she left, staring at the way out of the ballroom, almost willing her to walk back in.

But she didn’t.

And even though he was, to all intents and purposes, alone with his thoughts, he still couldn’t make sense of any of them.

* * *

A couple of weeks after that dreadful ball — because it had turned dreadful, when she’d stormed out of that conversation and flounced back into the ballroom — Sam threw a curveball at her.

‘I wouldn’t mind staying in London a bit longer,’ he said to her one evening over dinner. ‘I think there is still so much to see and do here.’

‘That may be,’ she replied. ‘But don’t you want to go home?’

‘Hey, the young gentlemen from years ago — they did the Grand Tour, did they not? Across Europe?’

‘They did.’

‘Then we can do a tour here.’ Sam smiled at her. ‘Or I can. I know you must miss home more than I do. If you really don’t want to stay, you know, you don’t have to. We can get you back to New York. Just let me know and we’ll book passage for you.’

There was nothing stopping her either staying or going. And she knew that if she did want to go home, she would go home, and she wouldn’t be reliant on her brother to book passage for her.

But Viola didn’t think she really wanted to. And she wasn’t sure why, although a tiny part of her had a huge suspicion . . .

But ugh !

‘I don’t know.’ Viola pulled a face. ‘I kind of want to go home — but there’s still a lot I want to see here too. Also, I want to see more of Pearl. And the babies.’

‘Pearl has said she’ll be happy to come see us over there. Says it’ll be good for the children to know their American heritage as well.’

‘Mmm. But, you know, there are people here I want to get to know more as well . . .’

‘Like?’

‘Like Elsie.’

‘And?’

‘Holly.’

‘And?’

‘Other people as well. I don’t know all their names yet. I quite possibly haven’t met them all yet.’

‘I see.’ Sam grinned. ‘Shall I ask émile to pop across the Channel and see you as well? Seems like he wanted to get to know you more.’

In a very unladylike fashion, Viola threw a piece of bread at her brother. ‘No, thank you — you did enough. Poor man. I had to tell him I was only interested in friendship. I just can’t stand being . . .’ She searched for the word and the conversation she’d had at Elsie’s came back into her mind. ‘Adored.’ She screwed her face up. She knew how bad that sounded.

‘I can think of someone who doesn’t adore you,’ said Sam teasingly. ‘Laurie Teague.’

‘Don’t mention that man!’ Viola practically growled at her brother. ‘I’ve told you how rude he is.’ She had given him the potted history of what had happened at the ball.

Ugh.

‘I like him.’ Sam sat back in his seat and tossed the piece of bread up in the air, then caught it in his mouth and ate it.

Everybody seemed to like Laurie! She reminded herself how annoying he was most of the time.

Every time she thought of the man, she found her pulse racing and her temper building. He annoyed her. He just rubbed her up the wrong way. No matter what he did, whatever situation they’d ever find themselves in, it seemed that he would always be destined to wind her up like a bobbin.

‘Some of the people I’ve met, though, I wouldn’t want to meet again,’ said Viola thoughtfully. She meant, of course, the hideous Richard.

‘Ah, yes. You do know what he was insinuating, don’t you, though?’ Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘Richard of Sussex or whoever he was.’

‘No, not at all. He was being disparaging about Elsie living away from Pencradoc, I think. That was about it.’

‘Oh, you are an innocent.’ Sam smiled at her. ‘Elsie and Louis aren’t married — that’s the scandal!’

Viola stared at him. She’d got that impression at the midsummer ball when it had all become quite chaotic — but hadn’t thought about it much afterwards. She presumed that they had perhaps married quietly in the aftermath, because that’s what people did, wasn’t it? Especially people in Elsie’s position . . .

‘Well.’ She didn’t know what else to say for a moment. It was actually quite shocking, but really — who else did it matter to? ‘I suppose that’s highly unusual, but . . .’ She verbalised her thoughts. ‘Of what interest is that to a room full of people at a ball?’

‘I suppose it depends on how very small these peoples’ lives are,’ replied Sam with a shrug. ‘Apparently Elsie’s mother lived in sin with Ruan Teague for a while as well. Had a few children before they got married. Laurie was one of them. That was the other thing your friend Richard was implying. And obviously why Laurie lost his temper with him.’

‘Richard was not my friend. And anyway, none of that changes my opinion of Elsie at all!’ said Viola, still indignant. ‘I like her. I like Louis. I like . . .’ She stopped abruptly.

‘You like Laurie?’ Sam’s eyebrow raised.

‘I didn’t say that.’ But Viola shrank down in her seat, nevertheless, and felt her cheeks heat up. ‘I like Marigold.’

‘Sure you do.’ Sam grinned. ‘But you like Laurie too. I’d bet my bottom dollar on that one. Oh — this came for you today as well.’ He rummaged in his pocket and tossed an envelope over to her.

Viola didn’t recognise the confident, beautiful handwriting on the envelope — she looked at it, half dreading that it might be another ball invitation, yet half hoping it would be, because he might be there as well . . .

Never mind betting her brother’s bottom dollar, Viola would bet her substantial trust fund on the fact that Laurie Teague, with his dark eyes and his scowling expression, would be at the party, wherever it was.

As she opened the letter, Viola tried not to think how Laurie changed when he was in the company of his small niece, or his younger siblings, or how utterly nice and charming he could be to anyone who basically wasn’t her.

How nice he had almost been on that balcony, how he had moved her hair away, so tenderly — and how she had hoped his hand would linger on her cheek for just a moment . . .

Ugh! No!

But she wouldn’t dwell on it. No siree. The last person she wanted to be nice to her, she told herself crossly, was Laurie Teague.

Because then that would mean she would have to try to be nice to him, or she would look so, so bad . . .

And also — she would start to doubt herself and her opinions, and doubting herself was not something Viola Arthur would ever consider doing.

As she read the letter, however, she felt her lips tilt upwards into a smile.

It was an invitation to a Halloween party.

At Pencradoc.

Pearl apparently wanted to show the “little ones” in all the families what a proper ol’ festival Halloween could be and Elsie had agreed to host it.

Yes. Laurie would definitely be there, then.

And despite herself and her conflicted emotions about that man, she felt that she might, actually, allow herself to look forward to it.

So, no. She would not be going home just now. No siree.