“I can manage wonderfully on my own,” she continued, “and I do not need the approval of the likes of Osborn Gadd. For all that people think my spinster state pitiable, I am happy, and their opinions will not alter that one jot.”
The pain in her heart eased away. Violet Templeton would not allow this to break her, and she refused to be like so many other ladies she knew who judged their success in life by things outside their control. One could not make another love them. One could not guarantee marriage. One could not ensure that children followed, and even if they did arrive, they had minds and wills of their own and would make of their lives what they would.
Violet wasn’t content to allow outside factors to dictate her joy in this life. For years, she’d mourned what was not to be, and though those disappointments still lay buried in her heart, they needn’t snuff out the light to be found even in a spinster’s life.
As she considered that, her muscles relaxed, the smile on her face growing more genuine as she looked at Dr. Vaughn.
“You do not wish to marry?” he asked with a faint frown.
Oh, wasn’t that a weighty question? What did wishes have to do with it? Marriage had rejected her long ago, and nothing she could do would alter that fact.
Lifting her head, Violet embraced the only truth she had to offer. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I am and will continue to be happy on my own.”
Reaching forward, she squeezed his forearm, hoping it would punctuate the calm that swept through her. With head held high, she turned her feet toward home. She may not be a man’s ideal, and the ladies may snub her, but she was Violet Templeton—and she was a woman of worth.
*
Arthur stood where Miss Templeton left him and watched as she strode away. Though he longed to follow and bask in the strength and courage resonating from her very core, his feet refused to move as the meaning in her words settled in his heart like a chunk of ice.
Miss Templeton hadn’t minced words. There was no mistaking the meaning, for she spoke clearly and succinctly. Arthur longed to dismiss it as her pride lashing out after receiving such a blow, but he’d seen the truth in her eyes. It glowed there with a certainty that brooked no refusal.
She was quite content to soldier on in her life alone. No need for a beau or a husband.
In all honesty, Arthur didn’t know anyone more capable of doing so. Even now, the thought of a life without her pressed down like on him a dresser securing a patient as the surgeon cut away the broken bits. The best chance for survival came from such efforts, yet so many operations only prolonged the death, leaving the patient no better than before.
Despite all the hopes he’d harbored for her, Arthur’s heart trembled as he realized the time had come to let them go.
Chapter 34
Months of preparation and planning. Expectations had been set and choices had been made long ago, and thus, one might think it strange to hesitate. Yet so much had altered of late, leaving Violet uncertain what to do. Sitting at her dressing table, she felt a swirl of anticipation and anxiety flood her as she stared at the note, but no matter how many times she reread the words, they remained the same.
Felicity had taken to her bed.
Too many unknowns surrounded the birthing process for there to be confidence in the outcome, yet it was impossible not to feel a frisson of excitement at the prospect that after all this time of waiting, the day had arrived. And Violet ought to know what to do, but the note wasn’t written in Felicity’s hand—which wasn’t surprising, as the lady was occupied with more pressing matters—yet Violet didn’t know what to make of it. A single sentence stating the pains had begun, but there was no information beyond that.
Sending word implied she ought to come, didn’t it? Yet all the reasons she’d been asked to attend were moot. Dr. Vaughn was quite capable of managing on his own, and Violet couldn’t even say with any certainty that Felicity counted her among herfriends. Perhaps someone had sent word on Felicity’s behalf without realizing her desires had altered. And the note was merely informative. No doubt the Finches were sending word across town, as so many were eagerly awaiting the arrival.
With a sigh, Violet rested her hand and the letter on the table surface and turned her gaze out the window.
Dropping the missive, she rose to her feet. Waiting was a dreadful thing, and it would be best if she threw herself into her chores. Of course, it did little good. Distractions worked for a few minutes, but Violet’s thoughts turned back to Felicity again and again; it was impossible to erase the worry that creased her brow or the frantic fidgeting of her fingers whenever she stood still for more than a heartbeat.
***
“Miss?” Peggy knocked on the office door but remained firmly in the corridor. Though she tried to hide her nerves, the maid fidgeted and inched further away from the threshold, and Violet held back a self-directed wince.
“Come in, Peggy. I said I do not want people in this room when I am not present. I am here, so do not fret.”
“Yes, miss,” said the maid with a bob (though without stepping inside). “There’s another letter from Farleigh Manor.”
The basket Violet had been holding fell to the tabletop, and she hurried over with an outstretched hand. As she broke the seal, Peggy added, “And the Finches’ coach is waiting for you.”
“It is?” she asked, glancing through the window—only to spy the back end of a carriage.
“The groom said they aren’t leaving unless you are inside.”
Violet’s pulse raced as she considered that and opened the missive to find Felicity’s handwriting staring back at her.
Stop being stubborn andcome. —F
