Disclaimer: Lord Henry Wotton, Basil Hallward, Victoria Wotton, and Dorian Gray all belong to that Lord of Letters, Oscar Wilde. May he find good cigarettes in heaven.

Author's note: I'd like to thank Herbie McGuirefor her review- although Dorian is most certainly blonde, if you've seen LXg before reading the book I can see the difficulty there. It's not the lack of reviews that I'm discouraged by, more the fact that I know full well this isn't Oscar Wilde's style and I worry that I'm defiling the story. I know that people write differently know, so much less direct characterization, but really. Wilde is sacred!

"He loves me..." came a whisper from a patch of exuberant flowers. Violet, having been sent into the garden to flush out the missing maids, swallowed a triumphant smile and inched closer. She could just make out a tuft of wispy blonde hair among the petals.
"He loves me not..."
"Oh, come now and stop being silly, Margaret, with your games," Violet said, smiling with a glint in her eye, cocking her head petulantly and folding her hands behind her back. The maid's head turned up and her startled eyes shone brightly.
"Why did you call me Margaret?" the girl asked. "You know my name is Liesbet." Violet shook her head, suppressing a sigh. Little wonder she did not fit in. She was the only one who seemed to have read Goethe's Faust.
"Never you mind. Lady Victoria is going to be leaving soon and her maids are to be inside."
The maid stood and clutched her daisy to her breast. Her fingers strayed to another of the small number of petals on the stem.
"Du holdes Himmelsangesicht," Violet said, her patience fraying. "Now don't keep the rest waiting."
"Why are you still out here?" asked Liesbet, upset at having been interrupted.
"I'm getting the rest of the maids inside, and I don't even know if I'm going out with her."
"You usually do," said the impudent girl, who turned and stomped off like a small, pouting elephant. Violet watched her leave with contempt, and then spun on her heel and stalked off in search of the other two maids, whom she knew to be out there: Birgitt Hampton and Sara Brigham.
Along the way she seized a few flowers of her own and began to braid them into her hair listlessly. They were simple and blue, but they would make her eyes all the lovelier. When she found herself doing that, though, she unraveled the hair in self-disgust. Braiding hair was for children. For wealthy children, in their leisure time. She was not a child herself; she was not wealthy. She was a young lady, a servant, she could not waste time worrying about her hair. She shouldn't waste time at all.
It was not by scouring the plants and shrubbery that she found the girls, but high in the air. The pair of them were sitting up in a tree, and not just any tree, but a tree leaning over the wall. Violet knew what it was that they were watching from over that wall- Lord Henry had brought two guests and they were no doubt there, talking. Violet hated how they watched the young men from society like vultures, or jewelers. It made all the servants look bad, and her most of all.
In a graceful rage, Violet walked over to the base of the tree and stood as high up on one of the roots as she could, then rapped on the trunk to get their attention. Birgitt was the first to see her, and gave a wide, slow smile that made her partially happier, and partially madder. Sara was completely intent on looking at whoever was beneath the tree's branches until Birgitt shook her slowly and she turned, then looked down at frowning Violet.
"Violet," she said with a wide smile, her awkward teeth apparent, then motioned wildly for Violet to join her. The dark-haired maid stomped her foot impetuously. "I came out here to get you two," she hissed, wanting to remain unheard.
Sara smiled, then glanced down at the gentlemen. "Then I say come up for us," said Sara with a sly wink. Violet's bad temper swelled up, but she knew it would be no use to get angry with them or to climb the tree. Birgitt looked down at her doubtfully, and took a step downwards, but Sara shot her a death glare and the girl withered.
"Come down!" Violet spat with urgency.
"Come up," said Sara simply, and turned back to the men. Violet, crushing the stems of the blue flowers in her fist, was nearly hopping in anger, but she refrained from the hopping and put her foot on rough bark, then reached her hands up for handholds, still holding the flowers. "I'm telling you," she whispered, shutting her pallid lids for a moment. "If I have to go up there, it won't be pretty."
Sara just smiled at her benignly.
Violet began to climb the tree, grumbling all the while. When she reached the top, Birgitt smiled at her brightly, her too-big lips stretched kindly. "Hi, Miss Violet," she said, reaching out her hand to help her up.
Violet ignored the offer and knelt in the boughs beside Sara. "Now get down before I have to push you."
Sara stifled a laugh and there was a voice from below.
"You have quite a few birds in your tree today." It was a man, and Sarah grew white and covered her mouth so as not to make another sound.
"I suppose Harry does, Basil," came the laughing voice of a youth. "And quite a few in his household. They all flock about his wife."
Violet's eyes widened and she leaned forward almost independent of herself to see the speaker. She'd known it. She'd known it! Mr Dorian Gray, again. It couldn't be coincidence. Why was it always him?
"All of them?" inquired Lord Henry- and Violet could imagine his eyebrow raised.
"What do you mean?" asked this other man, Basil- Violet saw him as a cautious-looking gentleman with dark tangles of hair and dark eyes, a contrast to his two companions- the tall, eloquent and somewhat wide Lord Henry, and the graceful and lovely Dorian Gray.
"Some of them seem to flock about Dorian," Lord Henry supplied, sounding amused. Sara stifled another mad giggle and Violet pulled her back, and whispered furiously into her ear, "You have to get down, now!"
"The young maids?" asked this Basil fellow, sounding not at all approving, and somewhat alarmed. He sounded decent, but just a bit too prudent. Violet decided she liked him, although it was hardly fair for her that he looked upon maids as he did. She wanted to shout that she really wasn't like that, but it would have been highly foolish of her and so she held her tongue. "Is that right?"
"No," laughed Dorian Gray. "Not all of the young maids. Some of them I just...seem to run into."
Lord Henry was laughing, and Violet could safely assume that the other fellow with the dark hair was frowning again. Good for him, she thought. She'd be frowning too.
"Dorian, you mustn't associate with girls of such low character," Basil said, sounding as though he were warning.
Violet was completely indignant, but Birgitt and Sara were unaffected. The insult had not reached their ears. Their minds were elsewhere. How could they not despise the world into which they had been born? Didn't they want something better? "They would degrade your nature, make you...less than what you are. Dorian, you are so much. It wouldn't do for you to be thought less than highly of because of a tendency…kindness is a good thing, of course; but there is a line between kindness to a maid and…"
"Oh, Basil," breathed the youth. "You think too much. It makes you too cautious and keeps you from being charming." He laughed at the look on his face. "Still, I am fond of you. But not all of Harry's maids are as you think. Some of them seem to be..." His voice faded and Lord Henry leaned toward him expectantly. So did Violet Larousse. She was so absorbed in his remarks that she did not notice the gleeful look on Sara's face.
"...just a bit different."
"Like whom?" Lord Henry asked, his voice holding more thoughtfulness than curiosity.
"Well, do you remember that young girl I spoke to a few days before--?"
There was a tremendous yelp and only confusion as Violet, pushed by Sara, crashed from the tree and fell through the air, into Dorian Gray's lap.
Basil leaned backwards and Dorian seemed startled, and Lord Henry, while he was not slow to react and also moved away quickly, did not seem as surprised as thoughtful in his observation of the falling maid.
No sooner had Violet landed, her apron in disarray and falling back over her face, than Sara and, prodded by Sara, Birgitt, had slid down from the tree unnoticed and made it look like they'd climbed over the wall.
"Oh, Mr Gray," Sara simpered breathlessly, smoothing out her skirts and picking out leaves from her hair. "So sorry about Miss Violet-"
Dorian and Violet looked at each other and she sprang up from him, brushing herself off hurriedly, cheeks burning crimson.
Sara took the opportunity to give her a gloating look and continued with her breathy explanation to Dorian, her eyelashes fluttering furiously. "Birgitt and I were sent out to get her by Lady Victoria-"
Violet spun around to stare at her. How dare she? Even Lady Wotton would be able to tell anyone that Violet had been sent to get them, not them to get her! Surely Lord Henry knew his wife would never have done things like that, that Violet was and had always been the better servant… Under Violet's silently outraged gaze, Sara faltered, just a bit, and hurriedly said, "Well, Mr Gray, we'll be off...Lord Henry..."
Sara took Birgitt, who was looking off into the distance, by the elbow, and attempted to do the same for Violet, who took a step away from Sara and caused the girl to grasp only thin air and fumble a bit, and began to walk off. Violet followed them, still seething, hearing the conversation resume. The words 'Miss Violet' came up in the conversation and she bristled. There was something that needed to be done about Miss Sara, or Violet was going to go mad in that place.