A Change in Plans
An ATC for "The Foundling"
by Lilyjack
Chapter 38
"Violet"
Violet Dowdy stiffly clambered down from the hansom cab in front of a pretty robin's egg blue cottage on Lindell Boulevard. She waved away the driver's attempts to help her, peering at the house number beside the front door. "Wait here," she instructed the clean-shaven, fresh-faced young man dressed all in black. "…until I find out if this is the right house."
"Yes, ma'am," he answered, tipping his cap. Stationing himself patiently beside his cab, he folded his hands before him while Violet Dowdy's plump, sturdy frame hustled up onto the sidewalk. She reached to straighten the flower-adorned bonnet perched atop steel gray hair pinned back neatly into a no-nonsense twist. Her first day on a new job after losing her dear former mistress, the Widow Harrington, to apoplexy owing to the woman's advanced age, and Violet did not wish to be late.
But she was not entirely sure she'd come to the correct house as she'd never even had a proper interview with her new employers. Violet had actually secured the position by way of recommendation from one of her mistress' old friends, Mrs. Homer Tyree. Mrs. Tyree had known Violet for years because the lady had visited the Widow's home regularly. Therefore Mrs. Tyree was well aware of Violet's devotion to her duties and to her employer. When Violet's mistress had died quite suddenly, Mrs. Tyree had hurried to call on Violet, saying she lived near a couple who were expecting their first child and were desperate for reliable help, the sooner the better apparently.
Heartsore, but knowing she had to put food in her mouth, Violet accepted the job on condition of mutual satisfaction. It was a trial run, really. An on-the-job interview, as it were. Violet and the Aspers would try each other on for size and see how things worked out.
Violet did think it would be awfully nice to care for a baby again. She hadn't been around little ones for years, but she sure enough knew her way around a nursery and a pile of dirty diapers. Diapers, those were a concern of the couple, according to the very polite letter she'd received from Mr. Asper. He inquired as to whether she had a particular aversion to laundering them. Violet had answered back, why, no, of course not, and she'd secured the position immediately. Violet figured those Aspers must've had their own aversion to dirty diapers, for sure, and most certainly required her help.
After puffing up the stairs and coming to a halt in front of the door, Violet turned back once more to make sure the driver was still waiting for her. She nodded pertly at the vigilant, wide-eyed young man and reached to ring the bell.
Through the door, Violet could detect the muffled sounds of a dog barking, a large one judging by its deep, booming voice. It sounded absolutely ferocious. Cupping her hand to her ear and leaning a bit closer, she heard odd scrambling sounds, the plink, plink, plink of metal dropping to the floor, and finally silence. She pressed her lips together in confusion. Perhaps this was not the correct residence after all. But she reached to knock loudly on the door just in case. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the curtain being drawn back just a hair in the front window next to the door, as if someone were peering suspiciously at her.
Violet sighed, ready to turn and leave, when the front door was suddenly flung wide. A decidedly pregnant woman with flaming red hair stood there in her nightgown, bloody, disheveled, and gripping, of all things, a shotgun. A large black dog stood staunchly at the woman's side, a cardboard box with shotgun shells scattered upon the floor. The dog was hassling, so Violet caught a glimpse of his big teeth, and…was that blood on those sharp canines? Oh my…
Violet Dowdy sucked in a breath and took an unconscious step backward.
One auburn brow raised delicately, the red-haired woman demanded, "Who are you?"
"Why…" Violet hesitated only a second before firmly answering, "I'm Violet Dowdy, and I believe I just may be your new housekeeper."
The red-headed woman raked the tumbled curls out of her face and sighed, "Oh, Mrs. Dowdy, sorry to greet you like this, but I've had a terrible fracas with a man out back."
"Oh my. Mrs. Asper, are you all right?" Violet noticed Mrs. Asper was sporting a nasty bruise on her temple. Her eye seemed to be a bit swollen as well.
"Yes, Mrs. Dowdy, I'm fine. I managed to make a run for it when my dog Mo here jumped him." Mrs. Asper reached one hand down to pet the big beast. She explained, "I stabbed the man with a pair of hedge shears and ran in here to fetch the gun my husband bought me for my birthday."
"I see," Violet replied matter-of-factly. "That big gun you have right there? Your husband is not at home?"
"No, Mrs. Dowdy. I'm here alone. And if that man is still alive, I don't want him to escape. He's made life mighty difficult for me and my husband lately." The determined redhead with striking blue eyes suddenly whirled as if to leave.
"Where are you going, my dear?"
"Out back to the carriage house. That's where I left him. Oh! You think you could send your driver for the police?"
"Of course…" Violet turned to the gobsmacked driver, who stood at the curb open-mouthed, staring at the disheveled woman while listening riveted to her story. Violet cleared her throat loudly to snap him out of his stupor. "Driver, could you please hurry down to the police station? Send them to this address, the Asper residence, to the carriage house in back."
"Yes…" The young man nodded slowly. "…ma'am…"
"Hurry now, we don't want this outlaw to escape."
Violet's new employer loudly ratcheted her shotgun, her expression hardening. Violet stepped inside the front door and stood expectantly next to Kitty.
Kitty inquired, "Where are you going?"
"With you to the carriage house," Violet stated firmly, straightening her flowered bonnet. "I can't have my mistress haring off to face danger alone."
Kitty smiled wryly, a glint in her eye. "Violet, please call me Kitty. You and me, we're gonna get along just fine. Come on, Mo, we gotta make sure Clay Michaels doesn't get away this time."
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Violet watched her new mistress standing barefooted in her nightgown, red hair streaming down her back, steadfastly aiming her shotgun with narrowed blue eyes at the insolent villain who lay upon the dirt floor of the carriage house. Despite his injury, blood soaking his shirt, he vilely cursed Mrs. Asper, called her terrible names. Mo, the large black dog, stood at her side, hackles raised, eyes trained on Mrs. Asper's attacker.
Oh, but Violet recalled that Mrs. Asper had indeed asked Violet to call her Kitty, but Violet could never be so familiar. She would have to approach the matter again after this drama had been resolved. In the meantime, Violet glanced outside again from her post at the door, hoping to glimpse the arrival of the police at last, when suddenly a muscular, dark-haired man with a swarthy complexion pounded down the back stairs calling out for Kitty. The frantic man could be none other than Mr. Asper. My, but he was a handsome one, thought Violet. She waved her arms at him, shouted out, "Mr. Asper, over here!"
He raced across the yard as Mo dashed out of the carriage house upon hearing Mr. Asper's voice. Mo jumped up and planted his paws on Mr. Asper's shirt, barking in alarm as if to communicate to him that there was danger afoot. The dog then ran back into the carriage house. Mr. Asper's face became panic-stricken when he saw the bloodstains left behind on his shirt by the dog. He demanded breathlessly, "Kitty? Is she…?"
"She's fine, Mr. Asper. But she could use your assistance." Violet stepped aside to let him through.
Mrs. Asper's head snapped around when she heard her husband's voice at the door. At that instant, a scream ripped from Violet's throat when she saw the bloody man pushing himself off the ground with bared teeth, lunging for the distracted Mrs. Asper. Mr. Asper bolted through the door and leaped atop the man, wrestling him to the ground. Violet's hands covered her mouth as she watched Mr. Asper smash the man in the face with his fist once, twice and a third time, knocking him out cold.
Mr. Asper rose to his feet, sweaty and breathless, and all three of them stood there in shock, silent, save for a small whine from the dog Mo as he sniffed at Michael's body. At last Mr. Asper whispered, "Kitty…sweetheart…are you alright?"
Violet watched as Mrs. Asper's beautiful face crumpled. She dropped her gun to the ground. Mr. Asper hurried to her side, crushed her in his arms, kissed her face again and again. They seemed to have forgotten that Violet was even there.
"Oh, Quint…" Mrs. Asper breathed. "I'm so glad you're home."
Mr. Asper's voice was strained as he answered, "I'll never forgive myself for leavin' you alone."
"No, it's not your fault. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry, Quint…" And then she cried.
Mr. Asper murmured quietly in her ear, kissed her gently on the lips, caressed her and held her as Violet blushed, turning away to give them privacy. It made her heart ache in her chest, suddenly missing her dear Mr. Dowdy gone all these years now. She could tell that Mr. Asper loved his wife as much as Violet's husband had loved her. Perhaps even more.
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"You just come with me to the water closet, my dear, and I'll tend to you. I served as my mistress' maid for years, and I dressed her hair and kept her frocks lovely as well as kept her house clean. I've fetched some hot water from downstairs. We'll get you cleaned up in a jiffy."
Mrs. Asper rose from where she was sitting on the bed and wordlessly followed Violet. Violet bustled around, pouring the steaming water from her bucket into the porcelain wash basin and beckoning Mrs. Asper to sit in a wooden ladderback chair she pulled close. Violet managed to locate a cake of sweet-smelling soap, fresh towels and a washcloth. She dunked the washcloth into the water, wrung it lightly and scrubbed it on the soap.
Mrs. Asper spoke up finally, "Violet, you don't hafta do this. I can take care of myself."
"Nonsense, Mrs. Asper. You're trembling like a leaf. I imagine you're quite beside yourself after dealing with that man, that scoundrel."
"I'm sorry, Violet, that I'm actin' like such a schoolgirl. But I can't stop shaking."
Violet placed a damp hand on her ample hip and proclaimed, "Mrs. Asper, I've never seen a woman display so much courage before. You ought to be proud of yourself. I know I'm proud of you, and I only just met you. Now give me that hand, and we'll wash it clean of that outlaw's blood. After we get the worst of it off, I'll be happy to fetch you water for a proper bath if you'd like. Mr. Asper will be with the police for a time, I imagine."
Mrs. Asper cut her eyes up at Violet. "You must think we're a pretty scandalous family, aimin' shotguns at people and brawlin' in the backyard. I'm real sorry you stumbled into the middle of this ruckus."
"Not at all, my dear. I'm glad I came in time to be of some service. It must've been horrible for you to have to deal with the worry of this man on the loose. Frightening, I imagine. Now give me your other hand. Let's pull up your sleeve."
Yes, Mrs. Asper had been steely tough with that outlaw, but now behind closed doors, her hands trembled, her body shook. Violet admitted that Mrs. Asper had turned out to be quite a bit older than Violet had originally imagined she might be, as Violet had only been informed that Mrs. Asper was a first-time mother. But the lady had a starched backbone and sand to spare, if her earlier behavior outside was any indication of her character. Violet had to admire her, telling that scoundrel to shut up if he knew what was good for him, that the police were on their way, and he'd better not try anything funny. Violet had nearly let out a cheer when her new mistress had fairly growled at him. Luckily, Violet had remembered herself and bit her tongue.
Despite Mrs. Asper's middling years, crinkly smile lines at the corners of her stunning blue eyes, the woman was still strikingly beautiful. And Violet admittedly hadn't found Mrs. Asper at her best, catching her in her nightgown, hair tumbled down around her shoulders, and bloody to boot. Violet just bet she was a sight to behold when she was all turned out in her Sunday best. "There you go, Mrs. Asper, I think we've got it all. None left on your face or hands. But this bloody nightgown must be laundered immediately."
Mrs. Asper gazed at Violet softly. "I'm not very used to people takin' care a' me. I've always taken care of myself."
Violet's chest felt tight at that admission from this lovely woman. "Well, a lady needs someone to take care of her once in a while, don't you think? Besides, you're carrying a baby, and I'm sure you're exhausted. Not to mention all this business with that vile fellow outside."
"I'm obliged for your kindness, Violet."
"Mrs. Asper, I'm happy to help however I can."
"Violet, won't you call me Kitty? 'Mrs. Asper' seems a little too formal for just us two around here."
"Oh, my dear, I don't think I could do that. It wouldn't be proper."
Mrs. Asper seemed to think a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. Then she offered, "For most of my life, I've been called 'Miss Kitty.' Do you reckon you could call me that without us bein' too improper?"
Miss Kitty for most of her life? Violet wondered again at the reason it had taken this nice lady apparently so long to marry and to have a child. There was a story behind that somewhere, Violet was sure.
Violet affirmed, "I believe 'Miss Kitty' will do just fine. Now, Miss Kitty, may I brush your hair for you? Mr. Asper should be up soon, so I think we need to get you out of that filthy nightgown as well. Would you like your dressing gown? This pink one with the ruffles is lovely. I bet you look like a princess wearing it. Hold up your arms… There, you look much better now. Good as new. Do you happen to have any spirits in the house? That might help to settle your nerves a bit. I think I saw a bottle of brandy on a table downstairs. I'll scoot down and fetch you a small nip and then we'll tend to that hair."
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Miss Kitty sighed, her body relaxing as Violet finished untangling her hair, scratching the stiff bristles over her scalp and down the length of her shining tresses. "You really have the loveliest hair I believe I've ever seen, Mrs…I mean…Miss Kitty."
"Thank you, Violet." Miss Kitty frowned. "But it's a lotta work."
"Oh, I know, dear. But I can help you with that if you'd like."
"Maybe." Miss Kitty looked thoughtful. "Especially right now with me being so tired all the time. I've never had anyone help me with my hair before. Thank you, Violet. I think that's a fine idea."
"Wonderful, now would you like me to help you get dressed?"
"I can help her dress, Mrs. Dowdy."
Violet caught her breath at the sound of the deep voice, catching a glance of Mr. Asper in the mirror, standing at the door. She wondered how long he'd been there watching them quietly. His dark eyes locked with his wife's in the mirror's reflection. Violet felt the electricity between them. She quickly lay the brush on the vanity and stepped back. "I believe I'll go down now and see what I can cook for lunch. Please excuse me."
Mr. Asper stepped toward Violet, caught her arm. "Thank you, Mrs. Dowdy, for everything you've done." His gaze drifted to his wife again. "I can never repay you."
"Please call me Violet, Mr. Asper. And I am happy to be of service." She took a step toward the door, then stopped, adding, "You've got quite a courageous wife there, Mr. Asper. She held her own with that ruffian. I've never seen the like in all my born days."
One corner of Quint's mouth turned up, his eyes shining softly. Kitty rose, turned toward them both. Quint replied, "I agree, Violet. I'm a very lucky man."
Violet smiled back warmly and headed toward the door. She turned to pull it shut and caught a glimpse of the couple that took her breath away. Mr. Asper strode toward his wife, pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately. Violet knew she should feel ashamed for witnessing such a private moment between the two of them, but she could not. It made her heart swell in her chest to witness their deep, abiding love for one another. It made her miss her Mr. Dowdy all over again. Violet turned, slowly closing the door, hearing it snick quietly behind her. She would just whip up some lunch for them and perhaps do some light cleaning downstairs. The Aspers obviously needed some quiet time together alone.
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