Thirty Three Part Four

Betsy sat at the vanity repairing her hair, as Violet, in his haste, had knocked it all askew. Betsy had been telling Violet what he had missed while he was gone. About the day spent in the country with the King and the crew. She told him of the uncanny work of Miss Merry, how Betsy now had several sketches of the boys that resembled them exactly. She shared how the King had enjoyed his gift, and that he looked forward to taking his falcon out hunting one day soon again. Finally coming to the end of her chatter, Betsy raised her eyes and asked about his journey. "Did you happen to meet Will before you left Marlborough?"

Looking in the glass at Violet's reflection, Elizabeth's gaze roamed over him from head to toe.

Violet lay upon the bed nude, a sheet covering his lower half, one long, muscular leg exposed.

Vi watched her lazily, as she tied her hair up. She was trying to arrange it as it had previously been, before he had tossed her upon the bed and had his way with her.

Violet reposed back against the pillows, his hands behind his head, revealing only certain parts of his manly attributes to her gaze, enjoying that she looked upon him warmly.

"Yes, I did meet Will," Violet adopted a look of pure innocence, "A lovely fellow, to be sure."

Elizabeth knew her husband, and Will, well enough to know there was something else there, something Violet was not telling her.

"I am not sure I agree with you, husband. As I find Will to be a bit ornery, and most oftentimes high handed." She watched Violet's reflection closely in the glass.

Violet's eyes shot to Betsy's, and he grinned swarthily at her, "He had not changed much, then."

He then inspected his fingernails upon one of his hands, "However, once one becomes used to him, he is a right, fine chap."

Something shined in his eyes that made Betsy even more curious, a feral gleam, a satisfaction of sorts that perplexed her, "Violet... What did you do?"

Betsy narrowed her eyes at him, as he raised his hands, resuming his look of innocence, "I did nothing but defend your honour, my lady."

Vi chuckled, as he pictured graphically in his mind, Lord Ravenwood, flat on his ass in the dirt.

"But.... What did you do?" Elizabeth asked again, swivelling around to pin him with her narrowed eyes.

"I hit him." Violet admitted, unconsciously rubbing his knuckles, as he still thought upon how quickly the man had gone down.

Violet may have been remorseful, he may have even prayed for a longer fuse, but that did not mean he did not have a man's pride in defending his lady's honour so effectively.

"You. Hit. Will?" She sat back in dismay, stunned that he would have done such a thing, "Whatever did Will do to warrant that?"

She asked this bewilderedly, until thinking back upon all the times that she, herself, had smacked the young lord.

Yet, to actually hit him.....

"He called you a sweet morsel." Violet glared at her, as her eyes widened in amused surprise, then she began laughing.

"'Twas not funny." Violet said petulantly, feigning hurt, and injury to his pride.

"Oh Violet, 'tis hilarious, I beg to differ...." Elizabeth chuckled, as she rose and went to sit beside Violet on the edge of the bed. "You got him good, did you?"

"I did, I clocked him one, and he went right down." Vi crowed, as he jabbed his arm, showing her how he had hit him. He then nodded at her, "It was fabulous!"

"I would have liked to have seen that....," Betsy sighed mournfully, "Why do these things not happen when I can appreciate them for myself?"

"I could do it again for you." Violet offered hopefully.

"Nay," she shook her head slightly, "'Twould not be the same, I will just have to take your word for it, and wish I had been there." She patted his shoulder and danced away from him.

"I really would not mind." Violet assured her as climbed from the bed, dragging the sheet with him, he wrapped it around his waist, tucking in the end to hold it there, as he followed her.

"I would mind, however, as it seems you two eventually came to an understanding?" Betsy queried, as Vi veered off towards the other room.

Violet chuckled, as he made his way to the bathing room, rubbing his knuckles again, "Eventually, yes, we did indeed come to an understanding."

"Good, I was hoping you would." Elizabeth sat down at the vanity once more, to pull on her stockings, as she waited for Violet to become presentable.

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Alfred and Terese returned from an afternoon of window browsing, then taking tea at a reputable tea shop.

Upon entering the mansion, they both noticed an unusual amount of activity throughout the home.

Ruthe was calling out orders, as the servants were bustling about like bees, swarming their hive.

"Mother," Terese went to her and took her hand, "What is happening?" Terese had her suspicions, but no, please, it was too soon.

"We have to go, my darling," Ruthe saw the dismay in her daughter's eyes, "Your father received a telegram, it is urgent we return home. We must be gone from here before the week is out."

Terese closed her eyes and sighed, it always happened this way, her father's business dictating where they were, and when they departed.

Terese turned to look at a confused Alfred, she went back to him and laid her hand upon his arm, as he took her other hand into his.

"We have to go home, sooner than we had planned," Her eyes gazing up at Alfred held remorse, "I will have packing to do, but I would be very happy to see you as much as I can until we leave."

Terese's eyes were beseeching, whether in hopes he would understand, or act in some way, Alfred did not know.

"What about us?" Alfred asked her softly.

Terese placed her palm against his cheek, "That would be up to you, Alfred."

She removed her hand and pressed a kiss there instead, "You must know how I feel by now."

Terese left him to ponder her words, as she climbed the staircase that led to her rooms.

"Terese," Alfred called up to her, "Will I see you this evening?" His upturned face hopeful, he awaited her reply.

"Six thirty, Alfred, do not be late." She smiled saucily at him, as she hoped he heard the instructions of a wife in her voice, and would act accordingly.

Alfred grinned at her retreating form. He knew what must be done, and he was more than willing to comply.

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Jude slipped the rings from Gwendolyn's cold fingers. He took the slim golden chain and medallion from around her neck, dropping all the pieces into a small, drawstring bag.

Placing it inside the overnight bag Gwen had brought, he rang for Charles before exiting the study to wait in the entryway.

Jude knew by now that Charles would not enter that room unless he was forced to.

Jude could not blame the man, it had been quite morbid in there lately, to say the least.

But now it was finished.

Jude could have her taken away, prepared to be buried. The sooner the better, as mayhap, then, he could put all of this behind him.

Jude gave the bag to Charles, instructing him to Alfred's residence to deliver the bag, and the news that Gwendolyn breathed no longer.

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Alfred arrived back at the apartment he shared with Merry, to find Charles pacing the foyer in an agitated state.

Charles' head snapped up at Alfred's entrance.

"My Lord," Charles had been practicing this for all of half an hour.

"I am sorry to tell you that your mother is gone. I have brought her things. Again, I am very sorry, m'lord." Charles bobbed in place, uncomfortable in his role of bearer of bad news.

"Thank you, Charles. Am I needed for anything?" Alfred had not realized the end would come so quickly.

Alfred was a bit confused as to his feelings in this moment.

"No sir, your father and Mr. Kensington have discussed the arrangements, I shall inform you of a time for the burial, as soon as we are aware of it." Charles moved to the door, "Again, m'lord, I am very sorry."

"Thank you, Charles." Alfred nodded absently, as Charles made his escape.

Alfred picked up the bag Charles had brought him, taking it to his room.

He sat upon the bed, the bag in his lap, he opened it and saw his mother's things.

He set the bag on the bed next to him, before lying back to stare at the ceiling.

There were no tears, there was no regret, no sadness that she was gone. There were many regrets that she had not been a better mother.

To have at least been a decent person, would have been nice.

Alfred realised, one thing stood out about Terese, that clashed forcefully with thoughts of his mother.

Terese knew how to love.

His mother had not.

Terese made him feel worthy, she made him feel cared about. She made him feel as though he mattered. But most of all, she touched him.

A hand on his arm, a kiss on his cheek, Terese held him just as tightly as he held her when they danced.

His mother had never touched him, he thought. No smiles, no praise, no happiness and no hugs. Never a kiss, unless t'was a buss on the cheek in front of others, always for show, never given in love.

Alfred let Gwen go completely in that moment.

He closed a regretful chapter of his life, resolving to begin another new, fresh, happier chapter.

He sat up upon the bed and turned, taking her bag in his hands, he dumped the contents out on his bed.

Her clothing and cosmetic items, he stuffed back into the bag.

He saw the small drawstring purse and pulled the laces open.

He poured his mother's jewelry into his hand.

There were three rings. Gwendolyn's simple band of gold, signifying her wedded state to Marcus. A blood red, ruby ring she had always been fond of, in addition to an elaborate wedding set of rings she had worn on her right ringfinger.

It had been Alfred's grandmother's wedding ring, long ago. When the countess had passed on, the Earl had graced their daughter, Gwendolyn, with her mother's heirloom pieces.

Alfred smiled at his grandmother's ring. It was a silver band of winding roses, he thought of how beautiful it would look upon Terese's hand.

Alfred took the rest of the jewelry, returning it to the bag. He prepared for the evening, before visiting a local jeweler and having the set of rings cleaned, and polished, until they shone.

Placing the pair of rings into his top jacket pocket, he then stopped at the flower shop and bought a bouquet of tulips, as he had found out they were Terese's favorite flowers.

Carrying the bouquet out to his steed, Alfred suddenly felt an attack of nerves. He hoped, with all his being, to have the promise of Terese's hand by the end of the evening.

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I was informed I had not appreciated my male readers 😉 This last chapter is dedicated to you gentlemen who have come along for the ride. With all of Violet's lovely actions in this chapter, 'tis only appropriate I dedicate it to you! Blessings to you my lovely readers!