Page 54 of Hearts of Locke Hill

“About Daniel. I was wondering, if he were watching from the heavens, if he’d want you to learn how to swim.”

She blinked up at the sky, summer blue with a scatter of puffy white clouds.

“I think he would,” he said. “I would want that for Ruby.”

She looked over the lake, to the dock. Then back up to the sky. Was he up there somewhere? Did he want her to conquer her fear? Did he want her to have that power in the water? “I think he would too,” she said.

“All right, then.” Cyril unfolded himself from the ground. Her back immediately cooled. He extended his hand to her. “Ready to try again?”

She took his hand, and he pulled her up. “I think so. But don’t let go of me,” she added a bit desperately.

He tipped his head, darting her a speaking glance. “You must trust me. Your contest isn’t with me this time, Violet. It’s with the water. You’ve asked me to help you conquerit. Think about that.”

She sighed heavily, wiping at the itch of dried tears on her face. “I suppose that makes us allies.”

“Yes. Allies.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “But just this once.”

She returned the expression but had difficulty hiding a smile.

Chapter 14

It had been too many days since Violet had played. While Cyril was moving into Pimms Mill, Violet had moved into what was to be the headmistress’s cottage, whereshehad picked out the paint color, brought her chosen furnishings from Kinthwaite Park, and had envisioned herself retiring to her own comforts after a long day of expanding young ladies’ understanding of the world around them. What should have been a wondrous occasion was filled with uncertainty and the interfering thoughts of how Cyril might look in what were supposed to beherrooms. So, after she’d seen Liza settled, Violet had gone to the school’s music room.

She picked up her instrument and played Sibelius, Schumann, and Bartok, and finished with her lady violinist, Ellen Wright. She breathed heavily but with satisfaction, simply holding her instrument and bow after pouring so much feeling through strings and wood.

Her dream was slipping away from her. She could sense it. Of course, the action of being set aside for a male was nothing new. Fighting to prove herself worthy to the male populous in general was not new. Heavens, she attended weekly meetings where the fight for equality with the opposite sex was measured, strategized, and put to action.

A shudder broke through her core, and she stepped to the nearest chair and sat. She wouldn’t give up, of course. If only Cyril wasn’t so …worthy.

She bit her lip. At one time, she’d believed him to be her best friend—or, at least, one who knew her better than most anyone else—as irritating as that could be at times. He’d had a way of driving her on without allowing her to get in her own way. Which happened often enough.

She hugged her violin to her chest, her bow resting across her knees.

How she’d missed him.

Ten years of nothing. Nothing since he’d left for university. And now she saw so much of him—would see so much of him. He’d hardly changed—except for the beard, of course. Still quiet. Still observant. Still able to match her impetuous tongue with his infuriatingly calm one. Ten years of his absence in her life after being such an integral part of it, and now this abrupt reentry—it was like drinking water because it was necessary, then discovering oneself thirsting in a desert, then being dropped into the middle of a lake.

At least she’d learned to swim. And she would. She would still be a part of this school. She would not be affected by so much … Cyril. She would not surrender.

“You will never guess what I came across at home.”

Violet stood quickly in response to Ruby’s sudden appearance in the music room, Lydia on her heels.

“It is too good,” Lydia said, brown eyes alight.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Did we startle you?”

Violet lowered her violin to the table next to her. She set the bow likewise. “Only caught me in my deep and brilliant thoughts,” she quipped.

“I’m sure you have a great deal on your mind,” Ruby said, compassion in her eyes. “How is the orientation going?”

“All moved in. The décor would not suit your brother at all.” She smiled, knowing it did not reach her eyes.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t,” Ruby said. Violet knew her friend was torn in her loyalties.

“Perhaps living in the headmistress’s cottage will paint you as the victor,” Lydia offered, taking a bench across from Violet.

“As opposed to him taking up residence just down the road?”