“That dirty hypocrite. I know one man who could not take his eyes off you—Sherlock Holmes. You really are very lovely. That is why I cannot understand...” I did not mention Donald’s name, but it rose like a dark cloud between us. “You know, if you wished—you are not too old—and you would make an excellent physician.”
This set her laughing. She grasped her tray with both hands.
“I am not joking.”
“I know you are not, but I haven’t the stomach for it—literally—nor the inclination.”
“It is good to use the brains God gave one, as you put it.”
“I know.” She kept laughing.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She caught her breath and managed to stop laughing. “It struck me as funny for some reason. I know because I do use my brains—I cannot help it. I cannot exactly turn off my brain, if you know what I mean.” She took a piece of bread and buttered it, then set down the tray. “I was hungry, and I do feel much better.” She began to yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. “Pardon me. I feel now like I could sleep.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
“No.”
“Perhaps I should leave and let you go to bed.”
“Please do not go—
“Of course, I shall stay if you wish.”
She bit off a piece of bread. “I am being foolish. Go if you wish. I only... I am tired now, but when I lie down I grow so... restless. How can I be so weary and yet not sleep?” The question had an undercurrent of anxiety.
“You are overly tired. Let me give you something, and then I shall stay until you fall asleep.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You really are a generous person.”
“Oh, do stop it, Violet! I assure you, I am no paragon, no angel in womanly form. You know better.”
“Ah, but you
“Now you are delirious. Whatever have you been reading?”
“All that is needed are the darling children, four boys and four girls.”
“Rather more than I had in mind.”
“But there will be children?” Her dark eyes were fixed on me.
“Oh, yes. When we are ready.”
“Ah. The Princess of Wales was quite worn out when she was our age. She had borne the Prince, our future king, six children by the age of twenty-six. Her reward was that he took up with Lily Langtry, the first of his whores to be publicly flaunted. Have you seen Mrs. Langtry on stage? They say she is still a beauty but has gotten quite fat.”
“Violet...”
“I am sorry. Please pardon me. My mind sometimes does cartwheels. Perhaps you should give me the magic potion so you can be off.”
“I can stay as long as you wish.”
“You are very kind, but I have imposed on you long enough. Besides, I am so exhausted I can hardly think straight. Do you ever wish you could shut off your mind? Mine just seems to go and go like some mechanical thing, the same tired thoughts repeating themselves endlessly.” Her eyes had an unhealthy glint.
I took her empty water glass and filled it from the pitcher near the bed.
“All of life seems like clockwork,” she said. “It all just goes, the wheels and cogs turning ceaselessly. The key has been wound, and now the machine must run. It is out of my hands. I thought I was controlling it, but I am only one tiny part, one more cog. There can be no retreat, no turning back.”
I gave her so curious a look that she laughed.
“Surely by now you know not to pay any attention to my ravings.”
I added a few drops of an opiate to the water. “Drink this.”
She took the glass, swirled the liquid. “Will it keep me asleep? I... I do not like waking in the early morning.”
“It will,” I said, knowing that my firm pronouncements were often more effective than my medicines.
She raised the glass. “
“Now get into bed.”
She stood up and swayed slightly. I stepped forward and seized her arm. Again I had a sense of being so much larger than she. She smiled at me. “I am only a little dizzy. It is nothing.”
I led her to the bed and drew aside the covers. “Do you sleep with your robe on?”
“Yes, the sheets are cold—icy.”
I thought of the familiar warmth of Henry beside me at night, and something seemed to catch in my throat. I drew the covers over her. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. I turned and walked toward the fire.
“Michelle!” She had sat up in bed, her eyes wide open.
“I am only getting a chair.”
“Oh. Yes.”
I brought the chair over to the bed and turned down the flame of the nearby lamp.
“Do not turn it off.”
“I shall not.”
I sat down by the bed. Violet smiled at me. The drug already seemed to have soothed her agitated mania. Her pale thin face showed all her weariness. She had dark circles under her eyes, her mouth pinched. She looked so ill it frightened me. I reached out and took her thin white hand in mine.
“You are so cold.”
“I am freezing. It was nice by the fire.”
I put my hand on her forehead. “You have no fever.”
She gave a restless sigh. “If only I could sleep.”
“You will, and I shall be here until you do. You have my promise.”
She smiled. “Did your mother tuck you in when you were a child?”
“Yes, she did.”
“I wish I had known my mother. My nanny tucked me in, and sometimes my father. He would tell me bedtime stories.”
“I’m afraid I cannot remember any.”
“His stories usually had insects in them. The ants were very good, very civilized, while the beetles were bad.”
I laughed. “I would have liked to hear one of those stories.”
“They were wonderful. I like stories, except ones with gypsies.”
“We shall not talk about gypsies. Besides, Sherlock believes there are no gypsies involved. Whoever is behind it, he will catch them.”
“Can you be so sure?”
“Yes. He is very tenacious. He will not rest until he figures things out.”
The wind rattled the windows again. “Do you like the sound of the wind?” Violet asked.
“When I am inside, warm, and comfortable!”
“I do not like it. It makes me feel frightened. Mr. Holmes is very different from how I thought he would be.”
“In what way?”
“He is not such a machine, and he is so interesting. And he has hungry eyes.”
I laughed. “So you noticed that?”
“Yes. But it is not mere appetite as with the Reverend Killington or Donald’s father. I thought women would not interest Mr. Holmes, but they do.”
“You interest him very much.”
