Page 17 of Hearts of Locke Hill

Florrie frowned. “Usually, I would wonder at your mother needing his permission. But this is a bit different, isn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly. Not only have they both invested in this venture, but they are my parents. In his distant way, my father does care for me.” She winced. “Or at least my future. Or his future, through me.”

“That, I understand.”

Violet nodded. “And despite the frustration he causes me, regularly, I—we—need to respect him. Wedorespect himandhis support in this thing he has no real interest in whatsoever. And if Mama pushes too hard, there is every possibility that he will becometoointerested—”

“—and then where would that leave the running of the school and all of your groundbreaking ideas?”

“Yes. If he decided to be a voice in how we ran the school, we would lose our power. So, it is a very fine line we walk, to do this thing we cannot do without my father—”

“But cannot do with him.”

Violet bit her lip and nodded, relieved at being understood but also exposed in admitting to such a weakness. “I do not know if Mama has asked him straight-out if I could run the school. But I know they’ve discussed my place here. They argued.” She looked about her, the rose garden, the aviary and orchard beyond. The windows of the home’s second-floor classrooms and third- and fourth-floor bedrooms. The stables and sports course, the new wing of staff quarters. “I belong here, Florrie. In this grand old monstrosity reborn. For the first time in my life, I feel like I could belong somewhere.”

Florrie’s hand rested on her arm. “Don’t forget, darling. You’re one of us. You’re a Wendy-bird, and that shall never change.”

Violet smiled and covered Florrie’s hand with her own. “I know.” She grinned impishly, bending her head down to Florrie’s height. “And how exceedingly fortunate you are to have me.”

Florrie’s eyes grew wide in mock contempt. “Why, you arrogant little flower!”

Violet dodged the swing of Florrie’s silk bag, and their laughter caught the others’ attention. Violet ran to them with a squeal, lifting her skirts just enough, and Florrie gave chase, all four young women and the dog making a happy ruckus on the lawn.

Violet pushed down the leaden thought that though Wendy had longed to, she hadn’t stayed in Neverland.

Y

11 and 15

Violet peered into the study. Her father sat with his head bowed in his hands, his black armband ever-present, the tick of the longcase clock the only sound. “Father?”

He didn’t look up at the quiet approach of his only daughter. When she reached the desk, she placed her hand on the cold marble top. A shiver went through her. She’d seldom been in his study. “Father, will you come riding with me?”

Still, he didn’t raise his head. She bent her head lower to see his face. His eyes had squeezed shut, as if he were in pain.

“You used to ride with me. To see how my lessons were coming along. Remember? Jacks says I’m doing better now that I’m learning to ridewithKnight instead of trying to force things. You always said—”

“Enough.” Father stood and turned his back to the desk, facing the family portrait hanging on the wall.

“Just a short ride? The vicar said riding was allowed so long as we—”

“Enough!”

Violet jumped at his harsh tone.

“Mrs. Dale! Where is that nanny?”

Violet glanced at the door, hoping Nanny would not yet enter. Though she was not so close to Father as Daniel had been, he’d still been kind to her and had at least taken an interest in her riding since she’d begun to learn. She skirted quickly around the desk and tugged at his sleeve. “Papa?”

He looked down at her and paused, as if she’d just appeared and he was noticing her for the first time. They had the same color eyes and hair. Simple but powerful connections to this towering man. She’d always believed, even in her eleven years, that at least those similarities would be reason enough for him to love her. To be proud of her.

“Will you go riding with me? Like we used to?”

His brow formed a V, and he shook his head. He took a breath, as if it were painful. “How can you ask me to do anything like we used to?” His voice was a scratch of wet rocks. “When my son isgone?”

Violet blinked in confusion. She knew Father was sad. They were all sad. It had been a year since they’d lost her brother. Nanny had called it a black anniversary. Violet had wanted to help Father feel better, if only for a little while. And riding was something they’d always done. It was something just for her and Father. But they’d stopped after Daniel had died. “I only mean to help.”

She heard a sound and realized Father was chuckling. Her heart lifted with hope.