Violet was positive that this long-drawn meeting was going to ruin not just her spine but also her sanity. The squeaking sound of leathered chairs continued to irritate her, but she remained seated in silence.
After weeks of organized chaos, Violet still found herself dealing with endless herds of strangers. She was sick of them floating around in their crisp fancy three-piece suits, murmuring like wasps. This particular group had got to be the last one she had to face or else she would have to temporarily move out of her own house.
"This is the condition that your grandfather and your late father had left."
"I know what they had left. I read the will."
"Then you know that we are here to..."
"Reinforce it. Tie the loose ends, whatever you call it," Violet interrupted tersely. "Now just cut to the chase. I don't have all day for this."
"Alright then, your uncle had brought it to our attention that the inheritance of your title and the family property is not legitimate unless you are a male heir or legally married," a stocky man with a pot-belly and white beard said. "But consider that you are neither, we are now having trouble proceeding with the royal decree."
"Sir Henry, tell me why I should care about what was my good-for-nothing uncle brought to your attention?"
The man's face reddened with shock. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.
"Well, if I may have your patience for a minute," a middle-aged thin man spoke up with a stone face. "Let me explain it this way, as your uncle is one of the hereditary peers and the last living male heir of the Wintour, he can actually claim the title as the Duke of Averbury and inherit the estate."
Violet's borrows furrowed in confusion. The thought of someone else taking over her home was unfathomable. Although she practically spent most of her youth in boarding school, she did not want anyone, related or not, to snatch what rightfully belonged to her.
Everything in this place held every bit of her childhood memories. The varnished wooden floor which she slipped and slid on her Christmas socks, the library with its huge antique shelves filled with leather-bound books where she played and read by her father's massive mahogany desk. The marble fireplace that was carved to perfection and the walls, which hung with portraits of her ancestors through generations. Averbury Castle was always her home.
"He can't," she finally said. "The Crown Act already amended the system. Male heirs no longer take precedence over the females. Or is there any part of it I misinterpreted, Lord Albert?"
The man looked sheepish before letting out a sigh.
"Your Grace," he said in a heavy tone at last. "It has been known that the family's will signed and sealed by your father, the eleventh Duke of Averbury, is by tradition and old laws, unbreakable. We simply could not reverse it."
"Which means?"
"You have only one option to keep Averbury," said the man, "and that is marriage."
Violet stood up in exasperation. Around the large oval table, the family's lawyers, trustees, treasurers, and estate managers, startled with an alarmed look. They remained silent for they knew not to push the envelope too far with Violet Wintour.
Violet had been listening to a long-stretching list of irrelevant things all day, and when they finally found the damn chase to cut, she was told that she was expected to get married. Violet Wintour would never get married to a man. Anyone who wasn't living under a rock knew that.
Sitting to the right of her, a mature woman with dark-framed glasses and hair bun pleaded her with a patronizing smile. The twenty-four-year-old heiress shot her secretary a why-am-I-being-tortured-like-this? look. The older woman grimaced. Shirley had been working with Violet's father since she was in her early thirties. Now at forty-five, she could say that she knew what was going on in Violet's mind.
The young heiress was constructing emergency plans. Then she sighed and looked back at the other nobles.
"The eleventh Duke stated in the will that I shall be married in order to be a legitimate successor, is that correct?" she repeated.
Everyone looked at one another before confirming it with a nod of their heads.
"Indeed, Your Grace," Lord Albert said. "That is what it's said."
And just like that, Violet Wintour said something that even her secretary couldn't have predicted.
"Then so be it."
~*~
"Are you utterly out of your mind?" Florence cried as they sat at Christin's. The restaurant was packed with well-dressed patrons, but the manager still recognized who they were. The manager spent time looking up important names and had come to greet them with a humble bow as soon as the car doors opened. Then he led the two women to a secluded room reserved only for special guests.
"What else can I do?" Violet said with a shrug.
"But a marriage?"
"Or should I let my uncle take over Averbury?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying, but are you sure you want to do this?" Florence asked with a concerned frown. "Who are you going to marry with?"
"Well, certainly not you," Violet said, the tone of her voice lowering as her annoyance grew.
"Right, because I'm a straight woman, and even if I'm not, I wouldn't want to marry a royal player like you either," Florence said with a chuckle. "But seriously, how are you going about that? This is not a small thing, you know."
"I know it isn't, thank you very much for reminding me," the heiress said and rolled her eyes.
The waiter came with a tray of French cuisines and red wine. They had to stop talking for a while. The food was neatly placed on the silk-clothed table before the waiter bowed and left them again.
"Have you thought of a marriage of convenience?"
"I have," Violet said after a sip of the chilled wine. "I guess it can't be helped."
"Well, if it really comes to that, I know a few gay men I can introduce you to, Violet," Florence offered, taking a scoop off her caviar onto her plate.
"Why gay men?" the heiress asked. Florence looked up at her with a confused face.
"Didn't you just tell me you were thinking of a marriage of convenience?" she said.
"Well, it doesn't have to be with men, does it?"
Florence stared at her for a long moment then her eyes went wide.
"Oh no, don't tell me that..."
The corners of Violet's lips curved up into an enigmatic smirk.
"If they want marriage, then I'll give them one hell of a marriage."
The east wing was a cheerful apartment —or would have been cheerful if it had not been so painfully clean. It gave the appearance of an unused parlor. It took seven housekeepers to keep every inch of it spotless. The tall windows looked east and west. Through the west one, facing out to the rose hedges, came a flood of mellow June sunlight. The east side gave a pleasant view of the bloom white cherry-trees in the orchard.The east wing was used mainly for all household affairs.
Shirley took a deep breath before knocking on the polished wooden door. She hadn't been that nervous working with the late Duke, but now she was somewhat intimidated by his daughter.Perhaps, it was because, for the past few months, Shirley had witnessed a few hissy fits from the young Duchess that would make even an army sergeant flinch. There were about fifty-four servants before Violet took the sovereignty of Averbury. By now the Duchess had already fired half of them.
Clare carried her empty tray back to the kitchen. The heat from the stoves and ovens started to make her body perspire and her face flush. All the kitchen staff wheezed about the counters, but her orders had been sent out, so Clare headed for a cooler area to sit down.Against the walk-in freezer, she found a fold-up chair and settled on it for a little break. She gently massaged her right arm. The muscle had gone sore and stiff. Her feet were in a semi-state of cramping. It had been three hours now that she had stood on those
Albeit trying to avoid the crowd, Violet's presence didn't go unnoticed. Women and men circled around her like sharks wherever she went. As if she existed to be admired, they couldn't stop looking at her. The men agonized over all the candor of youth and beauty that were out of reach. The women were in a constant state of awe and envy, not because they weren't rich or noble, but because they weren't Violet Wintour.The young duchess also possessed a razor-sharp intelligence. Not in a dominating way but one wrong move and she would cut you open, leaving a scare of embarrassment for others to laugh at. Yet she could
"Couldn't you contrive a meeting between them first? I think they would be ideally suited," a slightly quivering voice spoke from the other end of the line."No, that won't do," Shirley said. "She prefers it like a package delivery.""Well, that's tough, Shirley," her mother said.
Clare returned home with a box of pepperoni pizza and went straight to the kitchen. The light in the kitchen was off except the one hovering over the table. Then she found her mother pacing back and forth with a look of contemplation on her face."Mom, are you okay?" she said, noticing Jenny's furrowed brows. "Did the debt collectors call again?"Her mother glanced up, her expression seemed dazed for a moment. When she came to
Shirley stood before the two young women with a vanilla folder in her hand. Her face glowed with excitement and nervousness. Violet and her friend were reclining on a cream-colored sofa waiting for her to speak."Your Grace, I have found someone I really think you should have a look. She has met all the requirements," Shirley began, "she's young, compassionate and reliable...""Spare me the details, Shirley," Violet interrupted
Hannah and Isabel placed the deep-pocketed fitted sheet onto the massive mattress, making sure any excess fabric was firmly tugged underneath. Then they covered it with another cotton sheet before placing the silk duvet over the bed."Do you know who is coming today?" Hannah asked Isabel while she was fluffing the goose down pillows. The older maid looked up with a clueless shrug."I thought Ms. Shirley told you," she said and