Page 96 of Hearts of Locke Hill

“Did you not take a nap as I suggested?” Mama asked, joining her on the bench.

“I rested earlier.”

“Let me guess. You got as far as your room, sat down, then got back up and went for a walk.”

Violet’s mouth opened to protest, but she did not have the energy to lie.

Mama gave her a compassionate look. “I know how much Mr. Burke means to you.”

She felt her face grow warm and could not meet her mother’s gaze. “I really don’t think you do,” she muttered. If she did, Mama might not have discouraged Cyril’s eventual suit.

With a sigh, Mama pulled Violet closer. “I know you thought of him as a father figure,” she said in hushed tones. “I don’t blame you.”

Violet drew in a deep, steadying breath. Mama was speaking of theelderMr. Burke. Of course she was. Just as Violet should have beenthinkingof the elder Mr. Burke. She dropped her face to her hands, her cheeks still flushed, but now with shame. Yes, she did think of Benjamin Burke as a father figure. What’s more, she couldn’t help thinking that if Cyril had asked for her, and if she’d accepted, Mr. Burke would be a father in truth and law. How strange life was. Just as Mr. Burke had told her all those years ago. It wasn’t a straight path at all.

She released her breath. “Did you know,” Violet said from behind her hands, “that Cyril taught me to swim?”

She felt Mama’s movement of surprise. “To swim? When was this?”

“That summer, after Daniel drowned. I ordered him to teachme, and he did. I was terrified. And belligerent. But he stayed with me, and he taught me until I could swim across the pond on my own. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was ridiculously proud of me.”

Mama did not move nor speak.

Violet sat up, gaining courage. “Scandalous, I know. But I was ten and determined. I’d harbored a guilt I could not shake, and Cyril told me Daniel would want me to learn. And it was glorious.”

“You did not tell me.”

“I did not tell you a lot of things concerning Cyril. He tried to teach me how to fish once. Your daughter is an absolute failure as a fisherman. Fisherwoman. And when Freya needed to be put down, he sat with me and taught me bawdy drinking songs he believed my horse would like until I couldn’t help but laugh.”

Mama’s brows rose. “I never took Freya as one for drinking songs.”

“Neither had I, but it was perfect.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Violet sniffled and wiped her nose. “You provided me with this wonderful education, and I’m so grateful. But I wonder if you see that Cyril is the reason I can best most men at swords but play Handel to make those same men weep. He has always pushed me to be my best, to do my best. In maths, in horsemanship, in blasteddarts.”

“Language, Violet.”

“It’s true. And now he is here, besting me at running this school and goading me to prove myself—goading me to oust him from this position he seems to need out ofnowhere.” She threw her hands up in the air, and Mama handed her a kerchief. “Once again, he’s a part of the hours and minutes of my life, as iften years were nothing.” She blew her nose hard and took a deep breath. “But he isnothere, because his dear father might—” She shook her head, unable to form the word. “His world might be about to change, and what am I?”

Mama studied her tenderly. “What are you, my dear?”

“I don’tknow,” she said, trying and failing to hide the desperation in her voice. “I’m in the way. Useless. In all he taught me, did he teach me how to helphimwhen he needs me?” She shook her head. “These last ten years, he has been a ghost in the room. A passing face I used to know so well and had to stop acknowledging. I’d no idea how or why such a distance raced between us. As if we’d both stood on the moon and one of us dropped to Earth”—she snapped her fingers—“like that.”

Finally, she faced her mother. “I know about the letters, Mama. Cyril wrote to you.”

Mama’s eyes widened and she reached for Violet’s hand.

Violet discreetly shifted away. “You discouraged his suit. You made him believe that it would be better for him to remove himself from my life than to pursue one spent by my side.”

“Violet, you were so young.”

“Yes, I know. And the last thing I wanted was to fall into Father’s mold for me. But I don’t understand how never hearing from Cyril again, until being forced together in this inanegameof my own making, was good for me either.”

“Please, dear, I only did—”

“He was mybestfriend, Mama!” She met Mama’s wide gaze. “He, in no way, shape, or form resembles the man you married. So perhaps you might have left the decision-making to me.” Violet stood, stepping away and turning. “Of all the times you boasted of my intelligence, my competence, my innate sense of human nature, why on earth would you makethischoice for me?”