EIGHTEEN. IT FELT no different than seventeen, which Violet found amazing, especially considering she’d now experienced her first—and probably last—love.
Standing before her dressing table, she peered into the mirror and straightened one of the bright green ribbons that Margaret had woven through her plait. She squinted and moved closer, removing her spectacles. Shouldn’t there be new creases around her eyes? A slight maturation in her features? Anything?
When a knock came at her door, she shoved the spectacles back on. “Come in.”
The door opened a crack. “Violet?”
“Yes, Mum.” She swiveled on the stool to face her. “Is it already time for the celebration?” A glance at the clock on her mantel—an old one with just a single hand—told her only in the vaguest terms. “It would be nice to have one of Ford’s new pocket watches, wouldn’t it?”
“It would. And yes, it’s time.” Mum came in, closing the door behind her. “I’ve come to tell you that your father spotted Ford’s barge heading down the river.”
“That silly barge again?” Memories flashed of last night on that barge, and her face heated.
“Are you quite all right, dear?” Oh, no. Could Mum tell he’d proposed? Just by the blush on her cheeks? “You’ve been hiding up here all day,” she added, much to Violet’s relief.
Violet forced a laugh. “You know we older women take longer to get ready. To create the illusion of youth.”
She rose and wandered to the window, nervous about seeing Ford, half surprised he was still coming after she’d refused him.
The barge hadn’t arrived yet. “I’m fine, Mum. It’s only that these fancier gowns take forever to get on properly.”
Clearly not falling for those excuses, her mother joined her at the window. “Did something happen last night? I waited up for you, but you went straight to bed without saying goodnight.”
“Well…”
Violet had never hidden things from her mother—at least not anything that counted.
She paced back to the center of her room, more comfortable with some distance. “Ford asked me to marry him.”
Mum turned to face her, hope in her eyes. “And what did you say?”
“I told him no,” Violet said, and watched that hope fade.
Faith, she wished she’d said yes. At the moment she’d refused him, she’d been feeling closer to him than she’d imagined possible. Closer to him than she’d felt to any other person ever. She’d wanted to believe his feelings were real, that he truly loved her as he claimed.
More than anything, she’d wanted to say yes. A huge, enthusiastic yes.
But he was too good to be true. Too handsome, too charming, too perfect. Even his perfectly sincere response to her embarrassing confession of love had given him away. It was just utterly impossible that someone as incredible as Ford would fall for someone as average as Violet. At least, not without some additional motivation.
“I told him no, Mum,” she repeated. “Don’t you see? I want a marriage like you and Father have, or none at all.”
“What makes you think you wouldn’t have that with him?”
She wished she could explain it, but it was all too confused in her head. Maybe she could have that with him. She just didn’t know for sure, and until she did…
Mum was gazing at her, waiting for an answer. An answer she didn’t have. “You and Father won’t make me marry him, will you?”
“I’m a good judge of people,” Mum said quietly, “which is why I’m so good at arranging marriages. I believe Ford is a good person. I also believe that he truly loves you. I’ve seen it in his actions and on his face. However, your father and I would never make you marry anyone. I thought you knew that.”
Tears sprang to Violet’s eyes. She felt relieved and frustrated all at once. A tiny part of her wished her parents would make her marry Ford, but that wasn’t the thinking part, the part of herself she trusted.
“Your father and I raised you girls to think for yourselves,” Mum continued, “a folly for which we’ve suffered ridicule all our days. But heaven knows, after all these years, we’d be fools to make you do anything now. You’re not likely to put up with it, and your sisters would stand beside you.”
Despite Violet’s mood, she felt a half smile curve her lips. No matter their constant bickering, her sisters would always be there for her. It was comforting to know some things never changed.
Tomorrow all this fuss over turning eighteen would be finished. And now that she’d refused his proposal, soon enough Ford would leave for London, probably not to return for months or years.
Everything would go back to the way it had been—except for Violet herself.
Mum turned back to the window. “He’s here. No, they’re here.”
“Who?” Violet demanded. “Mum, have you invited someone without telling me?” She didn’t even want to see Ford today, and not only because she was sure she’d feel awkward with him after last night. She didn’t want to face anyone but her family on this, the official first day of her spinsterhood.
“I would never have invited anyone else without asking you first. But there are others on the barge, too.”
“Harry,” Violet said with not a little relief. “And the stable hands.” She headed for the window. “He uses them as crew—”
She broke off, staring toward the river.
“Faith,” she breathed, horror-struck. “Who are all those people?”