Bush of purple roses (Part 2) |
Jag antar att det här är nästa del, kortare än ettan dock.
“As in miss Violet, the daughter?” He looked shocked for a moment and draw back his hand from her.
“How many girls do you think is laying around, unconscious in our garden?” She had sat up, but didn’t mean the angry tone in her voice. He looked at her, probably more closely this time. He was noticing the fancy dress she was wearing.
“Oh.” He blushed. “I’m very sorry, miss.”
“Didn’t I tell you to call me Violet.” She still didn’t like the way she was sounding, and was also embarrassed. Which ended with both of the looking away, with an awkward silence. “World’s spinning!” She grasped her head, tried to hold it steady and laid down on the ground again. At first he didn’t know what to do, looked around with trouble in his eyes, maybe thought about getting some help. But he didn’t, and she was thankful for that.
After a while he looked down on her again, with the wrinkle for a different reason this time.
“Why does that keep happening?” She shrugged.
“Nobody knows. They say God punishes me for being bad, but I don’t know what I’ve done, and besides, all they’re trying to do to make God forgive me, and make me better, does no good. I’m actually not allowed to move outside. Makes my seizures run closer, and stronger, and more… what shall I say, harder.” At the word of harder, she sneezed, and with that, a fountain of blood rushed out her nose. But he didn’t react like people normally did when they saw her bleed. He just torn a piece of fabric from his shirt and held it against her nose, while leaning her head backwards. But it didn’t make it stop; in no time the cloth went from ivory white to blood red. And her dress wasn’t lavender blue anymore, or the skirt was, but not the top.
“All we have to do now is to wait for it to stop.” He said, still holding the dripping cloth to her nose, striking her head with the free hand. She had trouble breathing with all the blood everywhere, but couldn’t say, because of the blood. So she closed her eyes, tried to relax, imagine that her nurse was with her again, and it was her big hands that played with her hair.
It went fairly well, until the nurse started singing. The nurse couldn’t sing!
“Um, Joel, I think it has stopped bleeding now.”
“Oh, sorry.” The nurse stopped singing. The wet and heavy cloth was removed from her face, and she could breath freely again.
“This is no good.” He murmured and made a disliking sound with his tongue before she opened her eyes. They went open, and she sat up on her elbows.
“What isn’t?”
“Just look at you, you look like you had your head chopped of and then sawn back to place again.” She giggled, for no reason, more then she wanted to.
“Then you look like the culprit.”
“I do absolutely look like the culprit.” He smiled and looked down on the red shirt. “I wonder what they’ll say when I’ve torn my shirt apart the first day.” He pulled it off to her embarrassment, men he didn’t notice her blushing cheeks.. “How much blood do you have in that tiny body!”
“I wonder that too, some times it seems like it’ll never stop when it starts.” She still couldn’t look at him, pretended to be more interested in the hem of the skirt then him. When he noticed that she couldn’t look at him he started laughing.
“You are quit nicely grown, eh. Taught to look away and be nice and quiet and still when a man is in the room. Didn’t think if would involve gardens and gardeners as well.” She wanted to raise her head, stare him in the eye and tell him that she wasn’t like that. She wasn’t quiet, she wasn’t like other girls. But the shirt was still of and somewhere the things she wanted to tell him was a lie.
He laughed, and while shaking his head, pulled the shirt back on.
“I’m sad you’re not a maid here.” He looked at her with sad eyes, the wrinkle was back. But she was almost taking it like an insult.
“Well thank you, I’m sorry I can’t say the same.”
“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” He leaned closer. “I mean, that if you wasn’t the young lady in the house, well then I would be able to take you somewhere.” She swallowed hard, and did her best to suppress the dizziness that wasn’t from her sickness.
“Take me?” She said, hoping he didn’t hear the panic in her voice. “Take me where?”
He leaned even closer, and smiled at her.
“Out of this garden. The world is much bigger then this estate.” He thought for a moment and got an idea. “Do you know how to swim?” She didn’t know how to answer. Fear and happiness wrestled in her stomach for a fraction of a moment.
“VIOLET!” Both of their heads turned towards the house.
Against them her mother was walking as fast as she could. She was trying her best to look collected but both of them could see the smoke coming out of her ears. The speed she was walking in was unnatural for a women her age and rank, and she had to hold the hat down so it wouldn’t blow off. “What have you done to her!?” She screamed and pointed with a gloved hand at Joel. He was the only one who looked calmed and collected.
“Your daughter had a seizure, madam. I found her in the garden.” But it didn’t calm her down. She looked at the blood-drenched clothes they were both wearing.
“I bet you tried to kill her as well, you disgusting boy. Well, you will never see or touch my daughter again.” She gripped Violets hand, pulled her away from Joel and waved at him. “So, run along, wash up and get back to your duties, but don’t you think that I won’t take this with my husband and mr Wentworth!” It took a while before Joel remembered who mr Wentworth was. Violet could se the light in his eyes when he got it. Mr Wentworth was the steward, and probably the one who had hired him in the first place. But he found his ground fast and shook his head rapidly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, madam, and I’ll soon be going back to my duties. But you see; I would never try to kill your daughter, madam, never. Your daughter had a emergency nosebleed, and I tried my best to stop it.” The madam cast an eye on Violets face, and understood that he was right, even though she would not confess it. She looked a bit nervous for a while, but then put the hard face on again and looked with ice-eyes on her daughter.
“Violet. Is the boy telling the truth?”
“Yes he is, madam.” She lowered her head, so she would not have to look at her mother.
“Well, I guess I won’t tell mr Wentworth. But my husband will definitely hear about this. So, what are you waiting for? Run along!” He rose, and left the shadows under the oak, giving Violet a farewell smile.
The faces her mother and father had for her wasn’t as calming.
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