Chapter Fifteen

                                    

                                          


                          
"Word has it he got in his cups and attacked one of his classmates," 
                          
Mary's words from the evening before rattled around in Violet's mind like a trapped bird. "Nearly killed the man." 
                          
How could four little words affect her so greatly? 
                          
"Nearly killed the man." 
                          
The very thought that Mary's words could be truth pierced her with guilt. It was likely the result of servant gossip, continuously spun and stretched, and retold like a fairy tale. Mary had proven herself as untrustworthy, certainly. And yet, Violet still felt a nagging pinch at the base of her stomach, that perhaps, to some extent, her stories could have truth in it. She knew she needed the truth from Edmund about what happened in Oxford. Yet, she had no idea how to ask him about it without offence. 
                          
When the sun finally stretched through Violet's window, she was already dressed and ready to begin the day. The truth was that Violet had awoken before the sun, and spent hours waiting restlessly for it to rise. The Langeys had not arrived back from their ball from the night before, leaving Violet alone with her thoughts, and of course, the children, who still slept soundly in their respective rooms. 
                          
Violet decided with the sun freshly in the sky, she could justify beginning her day. The children would not be awake for a few more hours, and Violet had no appetite for breakfast, so she took to the gardens.  She found just as much peace in the morning air as she did with the evening, but it was different. The flowers were freshly awaking from the night, and the birds sang the morning in with their soft melodies. Violet took her surroundings in, as she walked through the gardens. She always felt so comforted in the fresh air, as though it possessed healing powers. 
                          
The sky was marbled pink and orange, matching many of the flowers which surrounded her. Violet pulled a small knife from the pocket of her apron, and knelt in front of a patch of daisies. She held a daisy stem in her left hand, and sliced the blade through it. Violet carefully laid the severed flower on the grass by her side, as she continued to pick more. She reckoned it was time for a fresh vase of flowers in the school room. The ones which currently sat in the school room's oriental vase were beginning to wilt and die. 
                          
By the time Violet had a decent cluster of daisies picked and piled atop one another, the rhythmic sound of carriage wheels and horse's hooves sounded from behind. She craned her neck and watched as it stopped and spit out the Langley family. Mr. Alfred Langley departed from the carriage first, and even from a distance, Violet could see the dark circles under his eyes. His cravat was loose around his neck, likely as an attempt to give him some comfort. She watched as Mr. Langley helped his wife out of the carriage next. Mrs. Langley briefly took his hand as she stepped down onto solid ground. But all within a breath, she marched away with a heated stride, as she clutched her silk shawl closed around her arms. The ostrich feather in her hair shook like an angry finger waving at a child. She appeared to be slightly vexed as she abandoned her male counterparts by the carriage. But then, when was Mrs. Langley not vexed by something or other? 
                          
Violet continued to watch the family from a distance, frozen in her own curiosity. She caught her breath when Edmund hopped out of the carriage, looking rather undone in his dark vest and rolled shirtsleeves. His coat draped over his arm, and he carried his tophat with a sturdy grip on its rim. Even in his clear exhaustion from the long night, Edmund looked impossibly handsome. 
                          
Edmund strode a few paces behind his brother, watching Mrs. Langley as she lead the way to the great house. Violet tried to wave at him, to attain his attention, but none of the Langleys seemed to notice her standing in the garden. They quickly disappeared inside the house. Not long after Violet heard angry voices shouting from within, likely from the drawing room. The voices were muffled, so she could not make out what was being spoken, but she reckoned it was nothing good. She wondered what happened at the ball to cause such an uproar.