By late afternoon, Mrs. Pembroke, Clara, and Samuel had taken their leave, children trailing after them with promises to play again soon.
Outside, only her father and William remained; inside—now that it was just Violet and her mother—she finally drew from Edith what she could.
William had spoken to her father in the Hamilton stables.
Her father had told him he owed the village for standing by her when he had not.
And that, while he was here, he would be introduced safely as Lady Ashford’s distant relative visiting Lord Hamilton, an old school friend, and calling on Mrs. Grey at Lady Ashford’s request.
But Violet knew her mother was still holding something back.
Not lying—simply choosing which truths to give.
By dusk, the fence stood straight and sturdy for the first time since January; the day itself, however, had felt endless. Violet longed to crawl back into bed, pull the coverlet over her head, and pretend—just for a moment—that the entire day had been nothing but a bad dream.
She was putting the finishing touches on supper when Lily burst through the door and grabbed her hand.
“Mama, come see! It’s fixed!”
Violet let herself be led forward.
The fence did look well—solid, neat, newly braced.
Her father clapped William on the shoulder.
“Not bad,” he said, a hint of gruff pride. “For your first go at fence-mending.”
She approached slowly.
“The fence looks well. Thank you, Papa,” she said to her father. Then, reluctantly, “…and thank you, Mr. Ashford.”
Lily tugged at her skirt.
“Mama, can Mr. Ashford stay for supper? Grandma and Grandpa are staying—he can too, can’t he?”
Before William could answer, Violet responded smoothly—
“Oh, sweetheart… Mr. Ashford must return to Lord Hamilton’s. He’s promised to dine there this evening.”
Lily wilted. “Oh.”
She turned back to William with a hopeful little look.
“Goodbye, Mr. Ashford. Will you come again another day?”
William’s expression gentled.
He bowed his head to her.
“Goodbye, Miss Lily. And yes… I’m certain I will see you again soon.”
Her parents began shepherding Lily toward the cottage, chattering about washing up before supper.
Violet lingered a step behind them, then slowed, her feet growing heavier as she neared the door.
At the threshold she paused, just long enough to hear the quiet steps behind her.
“Violet,” William said softly.
