“Are you all right, dear?” Gertrude asked, pushing back her chair. Hurriedly, Mrs. Duckworth raced over to assist her.
“She’s fine. She’s just had a long day. We left London quite early,” I said frantically, wondering if this was the beginning of the end.
“Of course. Well, I can have the guest room prepared if . . .”
Violet sat up and took a few deep breaths. Aware all eyes were on her, she smoothed back her auburn hair and sat ramrod straight. Her smile was frozen into a grimace. It all must have been excruciating to her. “I apologize. I’m quite all right, thank you,” she said, her voice strong and steady.
I placed my own napkin next to my plate and stood up to help Violet. She needed to be alone, and quickly.
“I think we’ll go for a walk. As you said, the air will do us good,” I said, pulling Violet’s chair back and offering her my arm. She was about to die, and I couldn’t have that happen in the Manor. I’d come up with something to tell the Abbotts later—that she’d decided to head back to London to see her doctor, and that she sent her regards. After twenty years of lying, I’d learned to think of all the eventualities.
Oliver stirred impatiently at the end of the table. “Can we go hunting? Please? I’ve been practicing all day and you promised. Violet can come with us!”
“Oliver!” Gertrude admonished. “Stefan will be entertaining his cousin.”
“Another time, Oliver,” I said, patting his head. “Just keep working on your aim and you’ll be able to teach me something when we go out,” I said. Violet smiled slightly, and I felt another heavy dose of regret. Accident or not, I’d led her to Damon. Because of me, Violet would never have a family of her own. “Thank you very much for a lovely meal,” I said. I held my hand out for Violet and the two of us walked into the afternoon light.
There was a chill in the air, and I realized how close we were to fall. The longer I lived, the more I became aware of how quickly the seasons changed. Sometimes I felt like one had barely begun before we were on to the next—so unlike when I was a human, when a summer seemed to stretch for a lifetime. It was just one of the millions of tiny losses that I endured, that Violet wouldn’t have to.
“I don’t know what came over me at dinner,” Violet confessed as I led her up the rock-strewn path through the glen. I thought it would be nice to head to Ivinghoe Beacon. It was the tallest spot in the parish, taller even than the large waterwheel that churned in the Chiltern River to power the mines down below.
We walked companionably through the glittering green glen, which seemed more alive than ever. Sparrows chirped, chipmunks and squirrels rattled in the dense shrubbery, and I could hear the sound of the brook rushing toward Bilbury Creek.
Violet stopped mid-step.
“Are you all right?” I asked delicately. It seemed a terrible question to ask. Of course she wasn’t all right.
Violet shook her head. “I’ll miss everything,” she said, spreading her hands wide as if to take the whole view in.
I saw her shoulders rise and fall, heard a slight gasp escape her lips. But she didn’t cry.
I grabbed her hand. There wa
s nothing I could say, so we continued walking up the hill, until the grass turned rougher, the rocks larger, and the air slightly thinner. We walked through a dense forest of evergreen trees until the moment I was waiting for—when the trees cleared and all that was left was blue sky above, and England sprawling down below. It was one of my favorite spots in the world, second only to the far edge of the property of my childhood home in Virginia where the pond met the forest.
“Thank you for taking me here,” she said finally. She put her hand on her heart. “Oh, Stefan!” she called out in anguish.
“Shhh,” I said, pulling her close. I wasn’t sure how else I could comfort her. Around us, birds continued to chirp and the autumn air ruffled her skirts. But inside, I knew she was weakening. “Shhh,” I said again.
She buried her face in her hands against my chest. I held her as she sobbed, each shudder of hers a twist in my heart. Finally, she pried her fingers off and looked at me with such a piercing gaze that I stepped back.
“Why me?” she asked, her eyes searching my face.
“It’s my fault. If you hadn’t met me, this never would have happened,” I said miserably.
Violet shook her head. “Or maybe I’d be dead in a London ditch. You were my friend. You showed me the world. If I have to die, at least I had those days of magic,” she said shyly.
“Thank you,” I said. I thought back to when we met. There was no way I would have ever forgiven myself if I’d just walked away when Alfred yelled at her in the tavern. “That’s very kind. But please know I only did what anyone would do, Violet.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said firmly. “You’re a true friend.”
“And you are, too. I’ll always remember you.”
A slow smile crossed Violet’s face. “You’ll always remember me? Even in two hundred years?”
“Yes,” I replied. I had no doubt. I wanted good memories of Violet, wanted to remember the courageous resolve she’d shown even in the face of her own death. “You’re one in a million. And you’re someone I could never, ever forget.”
Gratitude gleamed in Violet’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice. “May I ask you a favor?”