*High T for end of chapter!
—2—
Susan made her way through the crowd of guests, a glass of sherry in each hand. She could see her cousin standing off to the side, away from the cooing admirers of baby Mary. Rosamund had chosen to wear an evening gown, cream colored with puffy pink sleeves that clung tightly to the upper half of her body, but had a large skirt which trailed gently on the floor. The noble lady effect was all the more enhanced by Rosamund's twenty-inch waist and copper curls piled high on top of her head.
Cora and Robert were proudly showing off their daughter, tickling her to make her giggle and kissing her forehead. Cora was dressed similarly to her sister-in-law, except her gown was a pale blue. As for Violet, so far Patrick had managed to keep his wife away from Martha, so the christening had gone smoothly, although Annabelle lost focus halfway through and had to be taken outside by Violet's younger sister Roberta, who stayed with her for the rest of the service.
"You don't look too pleased with all the attention Mary is receiving," remarked Susan. She handed one glass of sherry to Rosamund and took a sip from the other. Rosamund swished her glass around, watching the liquid inside smash against the sides.
"She has a right to the attention," she sighed, "and anyway, I'm hiding from Mama. You wouldn't happen to have seen her, would you? Any moment now she'll start lining up suitor after suitor. I wish she'd let my brother and Cora have their moment; they deserve it. I can see her now, right over there, talking with the wealthy bachelors she invited as supposed 'guests'."
Susan looked at her curiously. "Will you ever marry, Rosamund?"
"I have yet to make up my mind. I want to marry, but only if it's for love. Unlike Mama, I don't care about money, or status. If I find a man I truly love with all my heart I shall marry him; if not, I am content to spend the rest of my days a spinster." Rosamund sipped her drink and then continued, "It's as simple as that, really."
Susan hummed in response. From her viewpoint in the corner she could see James approach Mary. He asked something she couldn't make out, and Cora replied by crouching to his height and holding Mary out to him. Cora smiled as James placed a kiss on the infant's forehead.
After grabbing a drink for herself, Violet's sister Roberta made a beeline for the young women. Susan nudged Rosamund warningly, knowing all too well how crazy things could get if they involved their aunt. Miss Roberta Taylor (she had never married) was known for her methods of intervening, especially when events concerned her family. Her main prerogative in life seemed to be meddling in familial affairs, and she was exceptionally good at it.
"Susan, Rosamund, how nice to see you. It's been much too long." Roberta fixed her nieces with a steely gaze that clearly told them not to walk away from the conversation.
"I wish it'd been longer," Susan muttered. Only Rosamund could hear her, since Roberta was a bit deaf and everyone else was too far away. Rosamund knew she should discourage her cousin's icy comment, but didn't. Susan had enough people chastising her as it was.
"Have you any news about poor Lady Tatem? Such a tragedy. I don't suppose you know who her killer is, do you?" Roberta looked between the two women. Rosamund blinked, wondering if she'd heard her aunt right. A killer? But that would be implying Lady Tatem was murdered. Did Roberta know something she didn't? It was highly possible, when she thought about it. Roberta was always the one who seemed to know everything—which noble family had just gone bankrupt, who married whom without his or her parents knowing, which supposedly loyal spouse had been spotted with another woman in a London teahouse. As Violet once said, her sister thought she had "the right to know every little detail." If any event of great importance was happening, Roberta felt inclined to know every aspect of it.
"Killer?" Susan's tone was incredulous. "As in homicide? That's quite a wild assumption, Aunt, even for you."
Roberta's eyes glistened with untold secrets. A small smile played on her lips. "You'd be surprised just how much truth is in my 'assumptions,' as you put it, Susan. I wouldn't eliminate any possibility. In fact, I—"
"Roberta!"
Violet seemed to appear out of nowhere, taking all three women by surprise. Her strawberry-blonde locks were pulled back into an elaborate updo, twisted together to form various knots at the back of her head. The skirt of her crimson gown fell past her ankles, stopping just at the bottom of her elegant heels. Violet wasn't anything if not well-dressed, as always. Her fashion sense was what compelled Rosamund to make an effort with her own appearance; she felt that if her mama stole the room with her sophisticated looks, she ought to as well.
Roberta smiled at her sister. "Oh, Violet. I didn't see you. I was just telling my nieces how frightful and unfortunate dear Lady Charlotte Tatem's unexpected demise was. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, my dear sister, would you?"
"Only as much as you do, I'm sure," Violet answered dryly, lifting her chin. She knew that, unlike Beatrice, who would give up after being turned away, Roberta would persist until information was given. Violet had told her the truth, of course, but Roberta wouldn't be satisfied with just a simple statement like that. She would continuously bring up the subject until something of great value to her—whether it be gossip or fact—was revealed.
"But I'm sure that's not all," Roberta simpered, trying to coax more out of the Countess. "Surely you of all people would know something else."
Violet stiffened. "I know that she was twenty-eight, a good deal younger than him, and considered a beauty by every man she met." Not to pause for too long and give Roberta a chance to pry for more information (information Rosamund strongly believed she didn't have), Violet went on, turning to her daughter, "Rosamund, there are a few gentlemen who would like to make your acquaintance."
"Oh, but I'm afraid they'll have to wait—or better yet, come back a different time, for I am busy talking with Cousin Susan and Aunt Roberta." Rosamund gave what she hoped to be a pitiful smile. Her mama didn't buy it.
"Rosamund, you will meet these men and you will charm them," she snapped, grabbing Rosamund's wrist and physically pulling her in the opposite direction. Rosamund let herself be dragged, rolling her eyes when she knew only Susan was watching.
Violet led her over to a group of three men, all in varying ages. The first was young, probably around Rosamund's age, with shiny blonde hair and a tan complexion. His blue eyes looked her up and down, as if inspecting a new outfit, not a lady. He let out a low, flirtatious whistle, obviously pleased by what he saw. Rosamund instantly didn't like him; she could tell he was a playboy at first glance, presumably one that wormed his way into fancy parties, seduced young noblewomen, then left with all their money leaving the women in question with soiled reputations. Rosamund resolved to drive the heel of her shoe into his foot the moment her mama left. But unfortunately, she didn't get the chance, for the next man caught her attention and she forgot all about her idea.
Unlike the first, this man was tall and slender, with broad shoulders and narrow face. He gazed at Rosamund through forest-green eyes with admiration as opposed to admiring her physical features. She reckoned he was older than her, but not by much.
The final man Rosamund recognized as Lord Tatem himself, seemingly as stuck-up as ever. How her parents found him pleasant enough to try and betroth her to him, she hadn't the slightest idea.
"Lady Rosamund," said the first man, the playboy. He bent to kiss her hand. "May I be the first to say you look simply ravishing this afternoon?"
"No, you can't," she replied wittily, "unless you'd like to declare my father's similar comment invalid. He complimented me on my appearance mere minutes after this event started."
The man smirked, his lips opening for just a second so that Rosamund could glimpse teeth of pure white. He then introduced himself as Lord Chant, bending to kiss her hand again. She sidestepped him, not wanting his lips to graze any more of her then necessary. To avoid him, she turned to the second man, who addressed her as "my lady," so she assumed he was from lower class. She was proven right when he called himself Mr. Hamlin Green, and explained that he was a wealthy businessman staying in London with his uncle for a short while. He acted nicely enough, but after amusing Violet by talking to all three men Rosamund would remember him as quite dull and uninteresting. Nothing like Lord Tatem, who, though Rosamund would rather not talk to him, found herself questioning him on the death of his wife while the other two men slipped into the background. He carefully dodged the questions, but Rosamund was not to be turned away.
"She was much younger than you, I gather. Twenty-five years, to be exact. Was she not?"
Lord Tatem nodded slowly, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "Yes, she was." He glanced away from her. "Lady Rosamund, if you don't mind, Lady Sanders looks like she's in need of someone to speak to."
Rosamund held out a hand to stop him leaving. Roberta had sparked a sudden interest in her, a feeling she'd never felt before. She wanted to keep interrogating him, worming little facts out until she had the truth. Was this how the cops felt when questioning a possible suspect?
"Lady Sanders seems perfectly content flirting with eligible young gentlemen and gushing about my niece. Surely she won't miss you," she said sweetly, forcing a smile onto her face.
"Oh, but I really must go," Lord Tatem said hastily, all while making his way toward the door. "It's high time I be leaving, anyway. Congratulate your brother and Lady Downton again for me, would you?"
Rosamund held onto his arm tightly, not wanting to give up her knowledge-seeking quest so easily. Whether it was the multiple glasses of sherry or her desire to learn more, Rosamund felt more stubborn than usual and continued to pester him.
"So rarely does a young woman drop dead without warning. By any chance… that is to say, have you any idea what killed her?"
A flash of shock appeared in Lord Tatem's eyes, but disappeared before Rosamund could fully register what it meant. He tried to shrug her off, and managed to do so, when she lost her balance due to the drinks she'd had and swayed for a brief second. She composed herself, the exhilarating feeling of playing detective motivating her to follow him through the library door and into the hallway.
"I knew Charlotte, you know," Rosamund continued, "not well, mind you, but she did always give off the air of someone who was unhappy in their marriage…"
She let out a painful gasp and Lord Tatem grabbed her by the wrist and twisted her arm.
"Not another word," he hissed. She raced to catch her breath, the pain he was inflicting on her shooting through her body, until she realized he'd grabbed her other wrist, too, and had pushed her until her back hit the wall. He held her wrists above her, his nails digging into her skin, all while she stood pressed between his body and the solid surface behind her. "You know, Rosamund," he said slyly, dropping her title, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous."
"Me? Jealous?" Rosamund let out a shrill giggle bordering on hysterical, that quickly turned into a whimper of pain as Lord Tatem dug into her skin with his nails even harder. "I have… no idea… what you mean," she breathed, trying to raise her foot high enough so that she could kick him and run off.
She could feel his breath in her ear, and was surprised to find no trace of alcohol. He was doing this all on his own, she realized.
"Jealous of the attention my late wife got," he went on. "Well, dear, there's no need for that… Come into the drawing room with me and you can have me all to yourself. No one will notice we've gone."
Without waiting for her consent, Lord Tatem forced her in front of him and proceeded to push her through the drawing room door. Rosamund was trying to find a way out of this; she scanned the room quickly for any sharp object she could use to her advantage. Normally, Rosamund would never think of hurting someone, but desperate times called for desperate measures. But, worryingly, Rosamund found nothing.
Lord Tatem let go of her wrist and instead held her tightly by the waist, guiding her to the far wall. She struggled to escape from his clutches but found no weakness in his secure grasp, only his hands roaming all over her back, reaching up to tug her hair loose. She felt her curls tumble free, while Lord Tatem fell to his knees and groped around her skirts. She knew if she could only wait for the right moment… plant a well-aimed kick to his face…
The moment his face was level with her waist, Rosamund raised her heel and felt satisfying relief as her foot made impact with his face. He was shocked beyond words at first, and then swore very loudly as blood gushed from his nose, ruining his suit. Rosamund didn't miss a beat, and ran as fast as her shoes would allow back into the hall. She was still shaking from her interaction with him, traces of his smell still following her.
She was so consumed in her own getaway that she didn't notice her mama until she ran straight into her. Her knees giving way beneath her from the collision, Rosamund sank to the floor where she sat in silence for only a moment, before Violet's voice cut through the air.
"Rosamund! What on earth…" Violet took in her daughter's appearance, from the nail marks pierced into her flesh and the few bruises and other marks Lord Tatem had managed to leave. Rosamund's clothes were ripped in more than one place; her hair was messed and her makeup ruined. It didn't take long for Violet to work out an explanation.
"I am utterly appalled, Rosamund," she whispered, not daring to look her daughter in the eye. Rosamund scampered to her feet, smoothing her skirts and tucking her hair behind her in the process. She looked straight at her mother.
"Mama, I will not spend another minute with the Viscount Tatem. He has attempted things beyond impropriety, and I can assure you," Rosamund's voice dropped dangerously low, fixing her mother with a steely gaze, "I would never allow myself to stoop to the level of an impoverished slut. Mark my words."
Violet seemed to shift her weight from one foot to the next, before raising her chin a little higher. "Well," she huffed, blinking. "It seems we have a little… situation. As for your marriage prospects to Lord Tatem, you may rest easy on that score. There will be no more talk of marriage. Not to him, anyway, for I would still very much like you to marry." She looked her daughter over again. "Will you be rejoining the gathering, or shall I send for a maid to assist you in washing up?"
Rosamund opened her mouth to reply, but was silenced by a shout of rage coming from the drawing room. Moments later, a bloody and bruised Lord Tatem emerged. If looks could kill, Rosamund was certain she'd be dead, when she caught sight of the look he gave her. Cold, heartless, and mad. Oh, was he mad.
"You little bitch," he snarled, all sense of self-control completely gone. He seemed to have no regard for Lady Violet standing mere feet away, raising his arm to hit Rosamund with all the fury he could muster. She got out of the way as he charged forward, trying to grab her, instead crashing into a vase right next to Violet, which shattered. Pieces flew all over the room, one of which slid a few feet and stopped right at the bottom of Violet's dress. She stared at it through half-closed lids, then bent down gracefully to pick it up and held it out in front of her like a weapon.
"Lord Tatem, I think it's time you go," she said coolly, brandishing the broken shard to ward him off. Lord Tatem looked as if he might try and harm her, but he saw the sharp object in the Countess' hand and decided it wasn't worth the risk. Slowly, without turning his back on the two women, he started for the front door.
Violet let the piece of the vase go, and it fell to the floor and broke into even smaller pieces. She let out a shaky yet relieved breath. She then felt hands on her shoulders, and turned around to find Patrick, looking at her with deep concern.
"What happened here?" he asked, surveying the broken vase and the two shaken women, one of which looked like she'd been dragged through a row of bushes. "Are you both alright?"
Violet smiled weakly and nodded. "We are. Rosamund just had an… unpleasant meeting with the Viscount, that's all. He won't be coming back."
Patrick pulled her closer, and reached out another arm for his daughter, who came to him like a dog obeying its master. They stayed like that for a few seconds more, before Robert and Cora emerged from the library looking even more distressed than Patrick had.
"Oh my lord, what's going on?" Cora ran to her in-laws and scanned them all, checking for any cuts and bruises. "We heard something break and I left Mary with Roberta and we came to investigate and—"
"What Cora is trying to tell you is we're here," Robert cut in, simplifying his wife's previous sentence. "Tell us."
Rosamund explained the situation, adding in more details Violet hadn't witnessed that shocked her further. Throughout her story, Cora was clenching Robert's hand tightly, both for support and because she felt the need to hold something. Whatever had passed between Patrick and Violet a few minutes earlier had gone, much to Rosamund's disappointment. Violet had taken a good few steps away from her husband, instead standing in between her two children.
"We should head back. People will be looking for us," Robert pointed out. He and the others started to walk back to the library. Rosamund followed them, but stopped when something caught her eye.
Pinned to the ground by a shard of vase was a letter signed by Lord Tatem.
A/N: So I really don't know where that drama came from (*cough* my overactive imagination *cough*) but the characters didn't stick to my outline for this chapter and... yeah. I'm trying to keep this 'T' though, so it won't get much more than that (hopefully. I did just say they weren't cooperating with my writing, didn't I?). Anyway, thank you all for sticking with the story so far!
And, in answer to the reviewer who asked about Vi and Patrick's relationship, just you wait... *grins mischievously*