“Violet?” I heard a voice call, thin with concern.
“Flossie?”
I watched the familiar hem of her skirts come down the cellar stairs. When she saw me, she gasped. The rat had left a stain of brownish blood on my hands. Flossie walked towards me with a handkerchief and wiped at my palms roughly, worried.
“Are you all right?”
I nodded weakly in the dim light.
“Your spells? What set it off this time?”
Fragments of Blanche’s words drifted back to me. He’s already realized he’d do well to move you down to the dancehall . . . Tears sprang to my eyes, and I trembled with a mixture of fear and shame.
“I was upset,” I choked out. “Blanche . . . she caught me burning tonight’s stew and she laid into me.”
A wave of emotion I’d been holding back suddenly crested and broke. Tears spilled down my cheeks and I crumpled to the ground. Flossie sank down next to me and attempted to soothe me.
“That’s her way; you know that, Violet. She’s angrier than a hornet most days. The pretty little fool thought she’d be running this place by now. But when Tackett’s not vomiting into a pail, he’s busy making eyes at Cora, and Blanche can’t stand it.”
I felt a sob catch in my throat.
“She . . . means . . . to have me moved . . . to the dancehall . . .”
Flossie froze. She knew I was hoping she would say it wasn’t true, that Blanche was bluffing. But she appeared uncertain, and reluctant to lie.
“I’m sorry, Violet . . .” she said quietly.
At this, I felt my chest tighten. I wanted badly to keep a stiff upper lip, but the room had begun to spin again.
“Oh, dear—breathe!” she ordered.
Flossie gripped my upper arms and bid me to concentrate on the rise and fall of my chest, gently stroking my hand. After several minutes I managed to slow my heart. By then something in Flossie’s face had hardened.
“This can’t go on,” she said. “I have a solution, I think. But you must come with me—and be very, very quiet.”
* * *
—
Once I was stable on my feet, Flossie led the way back upstairs and, to my surprise, to Tackett’s empty office. Tackett was still sick upstairs, and Blanche was presumably busy tending to him. Flossie quietly pushed the office door open and turned to me.
“I need you to keep a lookout. Can you do that, Violet?”
My heart began pounding again, but I nodded and positioned myself carefully inside the doorway, poking my head innocuously into the hall. Behind me, Flossie nimbly crossed the room. I suffered yet another shock to realize that she was bound for Tackett’s safe.
To my astonishment, Flossie knelt and dialed the combination. The safe door swung open, and she darted a hand inside to retrieve something.
“But . . . Flossie!” I whispered at her. “How on earth . . . ?”
Flossie shook her head and put a finger to her lips. In another flash she had closed the door and spun the dial.
“Quickly,” she hissed, “before someone sees us!”
She shooed me out and back along the hallway.
* * *
—
Once we’d returned safely to the kitchen, Flossie produced a tiny brown bottle from her skirt pocket. Slowly I began to comprehend: she’d filched a bottle of laudanum.
“Sister Louise used to administer that when my spells got especially bad,” I murmured, remembering.
Flossie offered a gentle smile and nodded.
“I know. I remembered it helped,” she said.
She bid me sit at the kitchen table while she started boiling water and making a weak mug of tea. Once it was ready, she pulled the stopper from the little brown bottle and shook in three simple drops. She handed the mug to me.
“But, Flossie, how did you learn Tackett’s combination?” I asked, accepting the mug and staring at it in disbelief.
“Cora got it out of him. Don’t ask me to tell you how—I doubt she would want you to know.”
“You mean to say that Cora . . . allowed Tackett in her bed?” I didn’t want to believe it; Cora had grown into an accomplished coquette, but she was also proud. While it was true that she was ambitious, sometimes even ruthless, I preferred to believe that she had her limits.
“Shhhh . . .” Flossie urged. She gestured to the mug cupped in my hands. “There, now. Drink that to calm your nerves. I think you ought to lie down for a while.”
She paused, eyeing the burnt mess of the meal I’d abandoned when my spell struck.
“I’ll see what I can do about fixing the stew,” Flossie said.
I sipped the tea as I was bid.
After a moment, I asked, “What if Blanche comes looking for me?”
“I’ll keep her away. Or, at the very least, I’ll put Cora up to the task. There’s no one to keep Blanche preoccupied like Cora.”
We shared a weak smile.
Once I finished my tea, Flossie helped me into my alcove. I let her cover me with the blankets. I was warm, already feeling the effects of the laudanum. The last image I remembered was Flossie leaning over me with a concerned expression, trying to soothe my worries. Her lank blonde hair caught the light, making a halo around her head as she stroked my brow with a cool hand.
Just rest, Violet . . . she was saying. Just rest now. All will be better soon . . .
* * *
—
I shut my eyes, and all went black.
7
Violet? . . . Violet? Are you awake?”
* * *
—
I struggled to force my eyes open; my eyelids felt as though they were weighted.
When I finally came to, I rolled to my side to see Cora.
“Violet?” she said. “Are you all right?”
Beside her stood Henrietta.
“The hour’s growing late, dearie,” Henrietta urged gently. “We’re off to the dancehall and wanted to see that you were feelin’ awright before we left.”
My throat was dry as paper as I swallowed. I slowly blinked and surveyed the scene before me. Someone had not only fixed the evening meal but also put the kitchen back into immaculate order. Flossie, I thought gratefully.
The kitchen had been set in order, and yet . . . something felt amiss.