Disclaimer: Dorian Gray belongs to Oscar Wilde, and anyone who says otherwise is on drugs.
Author's note: This is a slightly fangirlish piece, but it goes along with a lot of my stories in the theme. I'm investigating not those who are corrupt and like to corrupt others, but rather, those they corrupt. This takes place during the book, and it's all made up in my own mind. Wilde never really goes into detail about what Dorian does, but we know that he slowly drags people down. In the story, Victoria gets a new servant-girl named Violet (basically I'm going after the much-forgotten women of the story).
It was an unusual autumn. The apples, when they grew, seemed sourer than average, and not as large. The birds seldom sang anymore; the closest one got to birdsound was the laughter of Victoria that fine morning out in the park. The air was crisp and cool and the gray sky held all the promise of a light shower. Indeed, young Violet Larousse could have sworn that it was going to rain later in the day, but then again, if she had her way it would have rained every day like that. It was always easier when it rained, because the Lady and Lord were not quite so interested in going out. Or at least, that's how it usually was. In this case things were quite different. Lady Wotton was not like any of the other women she'd served, not even the eccentric Countess What's-her-name she'd worked for those two years ago. And her husband was even more of a puzzle. Victoria always went out when it rained. She loved the rain, and would often coo- well, not coo; she didn't have a voice for cooing, but she could make a sound something similar- about the prism of colour left on the window after a splattering of raindrops had fallen onto it. Many of the older maids who'd been with her longer were of the opinion that she went out because Lord Wotton went out. They weren't lying about him going out, it seemed that he was always going somewhere or another. It was somewhat sad for Victoria, however; the woman never seemed to be quite enough to hold his attention, and eventually grew to live without it. She would meet other men, and simply worship them for a spell, before another caught her fancy. Lord Wotton seemed to know but not to care; Violet found that shocking.
"Miss Larousse!" came a woman's voice, sort of shrill, from behind her. Violet spun around, her eyes wide and wild. The corner of her lips twitched into a sort of befuddled smile as she walked over to the speaker, Lady Wotton.
"Yes, Madam?" she asked with a small curtsy. The woman smiled a bit at her, her mouth not seeming to stay still, her lips moving a bit as she contemplated what to say, holding in her hands a book that she did not read, but opened and touched the pages only.
"Do be a dear and fetch me my coat," she said, gesturing over towards a bench some ways away where her coat had been left. Violet inclined her head and went to get it, still listening to the woman as she spoke.
"There's a chill in the air," she went on, twittering like a bird, looking up at the cloudy sky. She did not seem to notice whether Violet heard her or not. "It's just a bit nippy, ain't it, Violet?"
"Oh, yes, Madam," the servant girl agreed, "just a bit." Victoria laughed a bit, a small nervous laugh that came from her thin lips often, if not for very long.
"Oh, thank you," she said as the girl helped her into her coat. "It's quite lovely out here, don't you think so?"
Violet nodded. "Oh, yes." She glanced at the open book in her hands. The woman did not seem to be reading it. "Is that a nice book, Madam?" she asked.
Victoria looked at it, then laughed again, her bright blue eyes meeting Violet's gaze. "Oh, I'm sure it's a fine book. Of course, I have never read it, nor do I intend to, but I'm quite sure that it's a splendid book. After all, it's bound so handsomely."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, yes, it is. And the font is so lovely."
Violet nodded, then shivered as a wind blew through the park. There was a silence as the servant and the mistress both thought of the cold. Another of Victoria's birdsong laughs met Violet's ears.
"It's rather cold out here, Violet, don't you think? Shall we go back now?" she asked, looking at the young servant girl, who nodded quickly.
"Very well, then, we really must be going, I have to get dressed for my party to-night. You know, I invited that charming Mr. Gray to it, he does say he'll be going. Don't you hope he'll come?"
It was a rhetorical question and Violet knew to merely nod. What the woman meant to say was 'I hope he'll come', but she always seemed to assume her views belonged to everyone else. It was something she and Lord Henry differed in- he never expected anyone to agree with him, it seemed, and so many disagreed that it would have been foolish for him to hope for that. Yet, there were some who agreed with him, and they always gave up their own views for his. Violet had learned that from her observations, and thought it a silly thing, but it was not her place to say so. It was so very puppet-like, though, to let someone else change you like that. She just wished everyone else knew it, too.
"Shall we go, Lady?"
"Of course we shall, dear girl, come…" Violet helped her to stand, taking the book and accompanying her to the carriage. When the carriage had begun to move, Victoria turned to Violet with a smile.
"Will you stay to serve us, Violet? I know that you're new in the household, but I do trust you more than the rest of the maids. You're so young, that's why- young people are always the most charming in the world. It's impossible not to trust them." The woman's eyes had strayed out the window, looking at the sky again. Violet watched politely, the movement of the carriage making it difficult for her to focus on things in her mind or to concentrate. When Victoria looked back at her, she smiled and nodded. Victoria seemed pleased enough by her consent, at any rate.
To be continued.