Disclaimer: Dorian Gray belongs to Oscar Wilde. If he didn't, he would be tedious to read about and would not be in any story of mine.
Violet sucked on the tip of the quill, intent on what she was doing, before words came to her mind. Slowly, she dipped it into the inkwell and put the tip to the scrap of parchment carefully before she began to write.
Dear Mother,
It looks like I'm doing well with the job here. Lady Henry is a lovely woman, even if she's a bit silly at times, and from what I've seen of him, Lord Henry is all right. He doesn't show up much. Lady Henry loves parties, but she loves the people who attend them even more. She invites people from everywhere, it seems, especially foreigners. She's having a party to-night, and I'm to serve at it. I think that this means something good. I hope it does. When I've earned the money to, I'll come for you, and we can live together again and you won't ever have to work, I'll get all the money for you.
Love, Violet
She looked the note over carefully for mistakes in spelling and grammar, and finding none, she shrugged her shoulders lightly and folded it up, placing it in a book she owned. Then she stood and brushed her skirt off. She didn't have very much idle time, at least not before any of the parties, so she had been lucky to write the letter when she did. With a small sigh, she left the room and rushed out into the hallway, almost colliding with Lady Henry herself.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Madam," she said, curtsying deeply as she edged away from her. "I was in such a hurry…"
"Violet!" Victoria cried, blinking a few times. "It's such a good thing that you're here- Mr. Dorian Gray is here, could you meet him and lead him to the table?"
Violet barely had time to curtsy, so instead she ducked in a sort of informal bow as two other servants went past her in the hallway, carrying something that would have hit her in the head. When they'd gone, she'd already turned and dashed down the hallway to the entrance room.
She'd never before met Mr. Gray, nor seen him in person, but she'd surely seen photographs of him. Lord Henry had quite a few of them, although she wasn't sure, as she had never looked at all of them- she hadn't had the time- how many there were. Lady Henry said something about there being 17 at one point. Violet wasn't sure that was entirely proper, for a man to have that many photographs of another, but she would hold her tongue, like any other maid.
She came into the room to find Lord Henry speaking with a young man in evening dress. She knew who it was, and stepping forward, she asked, lowering her eyes, "May I take your coat, Mr. Gray?"
The young man turned to look at her, still looking quite thoughtful from whatever Lord Henry must have said (she'd been told that the man liked to talk quite often). "Of course, Miss…. you're a new servant?"
She nodded as she helped him out of his coat. Lady Henry walked into the room- Violet could see her out of the corner of her eye, looking as though she were unraveling at her seams.
"Oh! You've come, I'm delighted to see that- and Harry, I'm delighted to see you, as well. We don't often have dinner together, do we?"
"No, my love, we simply have such busy lives," said Lord Henry, his eyes moving up to look at his wife with a bemused expression.
"Ah! Violet, dear, you just hang that up, then," Lady Henry said as she looked upon the servant girl, who complied.
"Violet, is that her name?" asked Dorian listlessly as the two men headed to the dining room. "How charming! I'm reminded of the old belief that says, if you gather the first violet of the spring, you'll have your fondest wish granted to you."
"Mr. Gray, it's autumn," Lady Henry said, giving a small laugh.
"It's the springtime of his life, my dear," reminded her husband, and after that their voices faded from Violet's ears. Grumbling and with a sullen expression she hung up the coat, although her intentions were good enough. Maids are always grumbling about things the moment the master's back is turned. Violet turned away from there and went to the dining room, replacing her expression with one of a sweet-tempered servant whose only wish was to serve, and be helpful. That was what she was, wasn't it?
Pushing a stray dark hair behind her ear, she walked into the dining room, then curtsied. "Madam?"
"Ah, yes, could you bring the salad in?"
And so that was what it was and how it went. She was busy helping the guests to their seats- many others came, but she didn't remember any of their names, aside from Mister Gray. There was something about him that made you unable to forget him. Finally everyone had found himself or herself a seat and had enough on their plates to be content, and Violet was able to simply stand beside the doorway, if she were to be needed.
"You haven't been around London as of late, dear Dorian," remarked Lord Henry, reaching for a dish beside his plate lazily. "I don't suppose you intend to explain?"
Dorian Gray smiled benignly at the elder man. "Ah, that, Harry, I am afraid I can not explain. A man is nothing if not a mystery."
Her master nodded. "Yes; you are right. Very well, if you will not tell me that, then perhaps you shall tell me what brought you back?"
"Merely my love of England, Harry. I cannot bear to be away from her for too long. I miss her, I miss the people, even the society that made them."
Victoria spoke then. "Do you not mean the society they made, Mr. Gray?"
"Dorian was right to word it as he did, Victoria," rebuked her husband gently, his gracious lips smiling with mild amusement at some joke, some folly that only his eyes could see. "Society is religion to the civilized, in reverse. Rather than God creating the people, the people have created their God, and that is good society. There is nothing else quite like it."
"Thankfully," muttered a man who sat in the shadow, crooked with age.
"Nonsense!" cried one of Victoria's lady friends, fanning herself lightly and watching Lord Henry with a bothered expression. "Society is nothing like God, so they cannot be classified together in such a manner."
Violet noticed some other maids in the room let their eyes glaze over in boredom, but Violet herself was interested. She did not mind listening to scandal, although it was what the others thrived upon, but she preferred the dinner conversations, provided there were decent people speaking. And indecent people as well; there wasn't anything better than that sort of mixed company.
Lord Henry watched the woman, his eyes holding the same smile. It was fascinating to look at him, Violet thought to herself. He seemed like a rare wine to her, sparkling white wine, clear and yet totally intoxicating, completely obscuring the senses but managing to make them all the more obvious as well. She wished deeply to have been a guest at the party rather than just a silly maid, so that she could sit back in her chair, tilt her head, and watch him with her own eyes as he spoke, perhaps speaking on occasion. Instead, she bit her lip to hold back a yawn (honestly, did these wealthy people think there was nothing better in the world than serving them?) and tried to look like she was paying no attention.
Lord Henry, meanwhile, had raised his dark eyebrows slightly. "My dear woman, of course society is like God. They have everything in the world to do with one another. As society governs people's souls, God shall govern their senses."
"I believe it's meant to be the other way around," said a young man from Dorian's right, sipping from his glass.
"Life does not care about what is meant to be, only what may be," rejoined Dorian in a manner that Violet frowned at. It seemed disturbingly like Lord Henry's own, but in a slightly more dangerous manner, as though he knew more about what he spoke of than the older man, and that was the reason he said less. Anyone can talk, unless they've already seen things. Dorian didn't look like he'd seen anything in the world but freshly cut flowers, and all those that wilted or lost petals or shriveled up were removed from the world during the night while he slept so that he may not feel any sorrow at loss, of anything. His eyes were so blue as to shame topaz, with all its splendor, and make Nature herself with to refurnish the sky. Layers of other shades danced behind those delicate eyelashes, and Violet found a smile curve her lips splendidly before she regained her composure. She had to remember—if she was fired, if she failed to get money for her mother, then all was lost!
"Well said, again, Dorian," murmured Lord Henry, with steepled fingers as he thought. There was a moment- a long, long moment- of silence, before Victoria cleared her throat, then let out a shrill laugh and said, brushing back her straw-blonde hair with nervous fingers, so unlike her husband's unhurried hands, "Shall we clear the table for desert, then?" and she looked over at Violet with a smile like that of a young flower girl at a wedding, small and slightly sad, and Violet waved her hands at some other maids and rushed to the table, to clear it off. When a few other servants brought out the desert- a large tiered cake that had been an absolute pain to make and a horror in the kitchen, talked of with great annoyance and in a soft whisper, like some great beast that was terrorizing the servants- Violet took up the terrible task of serving it, with great care and concentration. It seemed to her that it would topple over any moment, a fear that increased as Violet continued to serve the guests. By the time she got to the last one- the young man sitting beside Mr. Gray- she was feeling very rushed. The cake seemed to lean over and leer at her, preparing to take a leap off the cart and make a mess of the young man, splattering his youthful face with frosting and strawberries. She managed to get it served somehow, though, although she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because she didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of such well-to-do people. And at least everyone liked it, she noted with some small satisfaction as it was eaten. When it had been finished, the other servants began to clear the table as the guests headed into the living room, for music, and talk, and cigarettes. Lady Henry caught her eye and motioned for her to leave, and she did so, with a small sigh of disappointment.
As Violet left the room, she heard a sound coming from the living room piano. Turning her head in that direction, she caught sight of the great instrument, and saw that there were slender fingers upon it. Gold ensnared her vision, frail golden curls. It was being played by Mr. Dorian Gray. The sound of the piano was sweet and soothing, and Violet would again have liked to be a guest, and to sit around the piano like the others and gaze upon the young man's lovely face while he played, but that was not in her power to decide. Only God had that power, she had been told, and he had decided for her long ago, although why that was, she could not know. All she did know was that it seemed horribly unfair and unreasonable that the luxuries of the world belonged to people who did not realize what they had, and did not care for it, and wasted it, insisted they were unhappy, when there were people who would have taken their place any day instead of rot and die restless. Violet felt betrayed in a manner, although by whom she did not know. The girl crept up into the maid's room, and took her paper from her book. She meant to put it into an envelope and send it to her mother, but found she could not write out the address. It seemed barely beyond recall. All that went through her head was the soft sound of piano music played by Narcissus himself, and Violet had to lie down for the dizziness in her head. She did not fall asleep though. She merely shut her eyes and watched the shadows pass over from beneath her eyelids, and not till dawn touched them did she open them again. That was the first time she had ever seen Mr. Dorian Gray- it was not the last, although she was a bit older when she next saw him.
Gica (SilverFlover)- Thank you! I really loved your review, it was the absolute best I could have gotten! I'm glad you liked the way the outfits are described, I love Victorian-period dress. And in the book, Victoria is said to have a shrill laugh, so I'm trying to get it right.