A Memory of Violets Read Online Free PDF Page A

antidote to the impossible task Tilly was about toundertake. Tilly took one, smiling weakly, wondering whether she was up to the challenge of the “demanding circumstances” of her new position after all.
    Appearing to have completed her interrogation into Tilly’s future employment, and unable to speak with a mouth full of mint, Mrs. Ingram took to gazing out of the window again, her eyes fixed firmly on the passing countryside. Tilly did the same, allowing herself to relax into the soothing, rocking motion of the train as the fields gave way intermittently to towns and cities where great chimneys peppered the horizon, sending plumes of black smoke snaking up between the white clouds.
    Narrowing her eyes against the glare of the sun, Tilly watched Mrs. Ingram as she twisted the lace handkerchief around and around between her fingers. She wondered what Mrs. Ingram had meant about its being up to her daughter to decide whether her journey was an end or a beginning. Tilly wondered whether she wasn’t the only passenger the train was accusing of running away; perhaps others had secrets as well.
    It had been an early start, and Tilly’s eyes soon grew heavy in the warmth of the sun now streaming through the carriage window. How long ago it seemed since she’d woken in the lavender light of dawn, lying in the bed she had slept in since she was a young child. How long ago it seemed since she’d stood in the doorway of their humble cottage that morning, taking in the beautiful landscape as her breaths were carried toward the mountaintops in a dewy mist. She shivered at the memory of Esther’s blank expression, at the sensation of her mother’s reluctant embrace, which had sent a far greater chill through Tilly’s bones than the cool morning air that surrounded her.
    She rested her cheek against the window, her ears tuning, once again, to the rhythm of the train . . . running away, running away,running away . . . As she fell into a restless slumber, the memories, which lurked always at the edge of her thoughts, awoke in her mind and rushed eagerly into her dreams . . .

    The hooves of the ponies thundering over the soft grass; the dark, brooding mountains ahead, cast into shadow; a pheasant taking to the skies, startled by their approach.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Laughing and calling to each other; the thrill of the chase. Her idea.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Look after your sister and don’t go too fast,” her mother said. “Remember, Esther isn’t as confident on the pony as you are.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Yes, Mother.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “And don’t go too near the railway tracks.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Yes, Mother.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  A flash of brilliant purple and blue from a damselfly dancing in front of her; the sweet, heady smell of the gorse and heather, intensified by the earlier sun. It was late in the day. They had stopped to pick lavender. Her idea.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Don’t be late back. You know how the light plays tricks on your eyes at dusk.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Yes, Mother.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  A thick, swirling fog descending rapidly from the mountaintops. The strange hue of twilight. A flash of white rabbit darting into the grass beside her. A nervous snort from Esther’s pony. The shriek of a kestrel circling