Ours Is Just a Little Sorrow (4 page)

I swallowed. Gideon wasn't the Colonel's son. "It's not my business, John. Every family has secrets."

"His whole life, Violet. The Colonel has treated him like an interloper his entire life. He was a young boy, an innocent. I'm glad my father stood by my
mother despite her condition, but where was the compassion for her son? Gideon grew up thinking he wasn't worthy of attention or love or even respect. My
mother tried her best, but a boy needs his father. He claimed Gideon as his own in public, but never in private. When our mother died in childbirth with
Phillip, Gideon was lost."

The cold seeped into my bones, but I didn't want to leave. The story broke my heart. But Gideon was a man now, and responsible for his own fate. I rested
my hand over John's. "You feel much responsibility for both your brothers, but you were a young boy, too. Gideon will have to find his way on his own. We
all have things to overcome. He needs to find the strength to do so. If our childhood dictates our entire life, then I may as well give up now."

John met my gaze. "You're very strong, Violet. Like our mother. You would have liked her, and I know she would have loved you." He squeezed my hand. "I
should get you out of the cold. I'm sorry for putting my family secrets at your feet this way. I suppose I simply needed someone to talk to." John stood
and helped me from my seat. "Gideon blames me for being the 'good' one. I've tried to bridge the gap, but I'm not sure I ever will."

"You're a good man, John. But you can't change Gideon any more than you could change your father when you were a boy. The best you can do is what you're
already doing."

The wind picked up then. Snow began falling in a swirl around us. As John escorted me back to the house, I wondered if things would ever be right between
the brothers.

The scowl on Gideon's face when he saw us together at the door made me doubt it.

Three days later, the storm had not let up. We were snowbound, but there are worse things than being trapped in a sturdy, if imposing, manor such as
Thornfield.

John brought laughter to our lessons. Phillip would often sit on his lap as they tightened screws and turned gewgaws, both wearing magnifying eyepieces
strapped to their heads. While they worked, I would read-sometimes advanced math volumes to better teach Phillip, but often novels of dubious value. I
quite enjoyed those, probably more than I should.

On such a day, the wind howled outside the windows but the liquideous aether flames in the fireplace warmed the chill. I sank deeply into the cushions,
holding my new brass
eNovelizer
closely so that no one could see the daring book I'd chosen that afternoon.

The eNovelizer was benefit enough of my job-had the Colonel elected not to feed me I'd still be happy to work there for the electromagnetic reader alone.
It felt like it was made for my hands. The readers at the academy were cumbersome, sharp, and had to be shared-this one had a buttery soft leather cover
and the copper casing was smooth and rounded.

And it had my name etched into it. I'd never owned anything outright before. I traced my finger over the lettering and sighed happily.

"Such domesticity," Gideon declared from the doorway, interrupting our afternoon.

I stirred from my lounging position on the davenport, but he quickly moved in, picking up my feet and placing them in his lap in a most indecorous fashion.
I struggled to pull my feet from his iron grasp from beneath the afghan covering my legs, but he held firm.

"Let go," I murmured, trying not to draw attention.

Instead he slid one hand around my ankle.

As much as I wanted to protest, the stroking of his thumb on the inside of my ankle, though too intimate and wrong, felt heavenly. Little impulses zipped
up my legs.

"You're being indecent," I said lowly from the corner of my mouth so as not to attract the other Winstons.

"Am I? I thought I was being friendly."

"Too friendly."

He laughed and released my feet, which I promptly curled under me. Unladylike, mayhap, but much safer nonetheless.

"I don't mean to take liberties, Violet. It's just that you seem like such a part of our family now that I forget my manners. Wouldn't you agree, John?"

John and Phillip raised their heads simultaneously, both looking ridiculous with their huge eyes behind their lenses. "Gideon, I didn't hear you come in.
What am I to agree to?"

"I was just telling Violet how brotherly we both feel towards her."

John blushed. "Yes, of course." And he bent back over the whatzit he and Phillip were working on.

I didn't like being a pawn in Gideon's chess game with his older brother.

He watched John and Phillip wistfully. I wish I could hold tighter to my declaration that he was in charge of his own fate, but at that moment, the sad,
young boy that still lived inside Gideon was evident on his face.

He caught me looking at him and scowled at the compassion he must have read in my eyes. "Don't," he intoned lowly.

"Don't what?" I whispered in return.

"Don't look for ways to make me worthwhile, sprite. You won't find them, and then you'll blame me for wasting your time." He leered, but it was missing its
usual punch.

All the same, I needed distance. I pulled my legs to the floor and walked away, making excuses about resting before tea, clutching my eNovelizer tightly to
my chest to buffer the mad beat of my heart.

I couldn't fix what was wrong with Gideon, but like John, I felt myself wishing to.

It was later that night that I woke up nearly screaming, my heart pounding, and a cold sweat covering every inch of my skin. The wind howled outside my
window, but something else woke me.

There again. A thump. A muffled voice. Another thump. I stared at the ceiling above my bed. There were no rooms above mine. I grasped the covers to my
chest as if they offered protection. Protection from what? Phantom noise?

There was, perhaps, an attic space above me. It was on odd time to be moving things about, but it was possible. I listened intently, but heard nothing save
the wind still moaning outside my window as if it were desperate to come in.

There would be no falling back to sleep easily, I knew, so I pushed off the bedclothes, shivering immediately, and pulled on my wrap. "My kingdom for a cup
of tea," I said aloud.

My slippers were warmed from the aether fireplace. Instant comfort, blissful really. I felt richer than sin the moment they enveloped my feet.

Though I had no reason to hide, I tiptoed down the hall. The shadows made me nervous, and every creak and groan of the floorboards sounded like warnings. I
had to get a hold of myself. The noises that woke me could have been the wind carrying tree limbs and whatnot over the roof. Still, I padded softly and
listened intently.

The kitchen was a friendly place, despite the mood of the rest of Thornfield. I pulled what I needed from the larder, and what I needed included some of
Cook's fabulous biscuits. I set my armful on a sideboard and turned to get a tea kettle.

A hand covered my mouth and braced me against a strong wall of man. "Don't scream."

My midnight intruder was almost gentle, but a primal scream ripped through me, muffled by his hand. And then I bit him.

"Christ, Violet." Gideon let go, and I turned immediately to him as he shook his hand. "You bit me." He examined his hand in the dim nightlight of glowing
aether. "I think you broke the skin."

A blanket of red stole over my vision and I felt strangely out of my own body, unable to control its reactions. I began hitting Gideon in the chest,
backing him into the stovetop. "You scared me. Why on earth did you sneak up on me like that? I thought you were an intruder."

"I'm sorry, Vi. I just didn't want you to scream and wake the house." He allowed me to hit him several more times before he asked, "Are you…are you
crying?"

I wiped my eyes. "Of course not."

"Oh, hell. You are. I'm really sorry I frightened you." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. When I wouldn't accept it, he put it into my hand and
forced my fingers closed around it.

I stared at the offending cloth and tried to force the percussion of my heart to slow. I hated being so out of control, being harkened back to the small
animal I'd been when first brought to the academy. I wiped the tears on my sleeve, perversely refusing to use his handkerchief. "What are you doing here,
Gideon?"

"I'm here for the same reason you are, sprite. Tea. Though, next time you find yourself unable to sleep, you could just knock on my door. I have other
cures for insomnia you might be interested in." He moved around me and began making the tea, taking preparations away from me and giving me too much time
to think about how scared I'd been and then how angry.

I began to shake, but tried to hide it from Gideon. My instincts told me never to show weakness in front of him. Still, I felt his heavy stare pressing on
me.

"Stop looking at me," I whispered. "Please."

I couldn't find the will to pull myself together. I hadn't felt that kind of primitive fear since arriving in New Geneva. Certainly, I'd been scared at
times, but not the kind of fear that locks away all other thought but that of survival. The terror that runs blood cold. I'd forgotten what it felt like to
be a victim.

"Jesus, Vi." He pulled me into an embrace. I didn't fight it. I'm ashamed to admit that I needed to be touched. Maybe more than anyone in history, at that
moment, I needed to be held. I shook in his arms, hating myself and hating him for understanding what I would never put words to.

I didn't want him to be nice to me. That made him complicated, and I couldn't afford for my feelings about Gideon to be complicated.

The kettle whistled, and I pulled out of his hold, stepping back and putting distance between us. He went to work with the tea, and I gathered my wits. I
thought about skipping the tea altogether and retiring back to my room. It was the prudent thing to do. But, oh, how I longed for a steaming cup of
comfort.

Gideon gestured me to the small table in front of the window, so I took a seat and stared at the darkness. There were no moons tonight, only a barren void
past what the outside lanterns illuminated.

He set the tray between us and folded himself into his chair. I was used to dining with him at the massive table-this small nook made him seem impossibly
large. He overtook everything.

As he poured with uncanny grace, he watched me closely, likely looking for evidence that I would crack into emotional turmoil again. While he seemed to
enjoy provoking me most of the time, I could tell that he really did feel bad about frightening me.

An awkward silence stretched between us. What did we have to say to each other, really? I wasn't up for his goading, and I'm sure he didn't want to know
about my disapproval of his wasteful lifestyle.

"Will you be spending the holidays with family?" he asked finally.

I closed my eyes, suddenly hating the small talk I'd trained so diligently for. "No. I have no family."

When I reopened my eyes, his gazed was fixed on me. His dark eyes searching for something, but what?

"So, you're stuck here just like I am then?" His voice was rich with his usual sardonic tone, but his eyes didn't match his words. "I guess we'll both have
to make the best of it."

A few days ago, I might have told him he should be grateful to have a family to spend the holiday with. Now that I understood the dynamics better, the
platitude would have been more than shallow, and I kept it to myself.

I sipped my tea, waiting for my bones to warm, waiting to feel like myself again.

"Do you like being a governess?" he asked.

"Very much."

"If you had your wish to be anything at all in the world, would you still be a governess?"

I sensed a trap, so I toed very carefully ahead. "Whoever is granted such a wish?"

"You're evading the question. I suppose that's what you've been taught, though, yes? Our society doesn't allow for wishing or dreaming. Luckily, if I were
granted such a wish, I would find that I am already doing exactly what I would dream of."