Author’s Note: This revelation did get delayed by Robert being injured, but I thought it was a rather intriguing twist, one that worked well with what I’d already written.

“Something someone else did? Someone like… my father, you mean?”

Violet licked her lips. Of course, she did not feel right making that accusation, no matter what that man had said about her or her child. She would not think herself ever inclined to forgive him for those comments, but she did not know that she could use them as a reason to say that he was the cause of all of this. “I don’t know. I suppose with his general attitude and demeanor, he seems the most likely to have inspired such a strong hate, but I do not know that I am right—if it was because of your father, why would they do this to you? To me?”

Robbie shook his head. “I do not know. I think we are back where we started from again, unfortunately. We know so very little of what is happening, even as it is centered around us. I don’t understand why he came here and picked you, though. I mean—you know what I mean, don’t you? I’ve said it before—it is not that you are not a very admirable woman, one who any man should be fortunate to have a chance to spend time with, but if he intended to cause me or my father harm, why come here? Why do this to you?”

She let out a breath. She knew that was the question that she wanted answered more than any other. She had been asking it since Winston left her, wondering what had made him go and why he would do any of that to her, an answer that became all the more important after she learned that he was not Robert John Winston the third, not the man she’d thought she knew, not at all.

“I do not—wait. There was something yesterday, before you came in and distracted all of us—”

“I did not mean to upset you. I was not trying to—the only place I knew to go was here.”

“Oh, no, I did not mean that,” she said, shaking her head. She leaned forward, wanting to take hold of his hand. She did not mean to make him blame himself for anything or think he should not have come to them. He should have. Here was where he was best looked after, and she rather thought that here might be where he belonged… forever.

She forced herself not to think about that. She was still a mess of emotions when it came to him and to Winston, and she did not know if she would ever sort them all out.

“Violet?”

She held out a hand to him. “Will you… Would you mind moving closer? I would have liked to have taken you hand just then, but I am afraid I cannot reach you.”

“Of course. I am sorry—I just took the first chair I came to without thinking of being close enough to see to anything you might need.”

She laughed. “Robbie, you are the one that has a concussion. You do not need to take care of me. I am not incapable of caring for myself. I am just… pregnant. I almost offered you this chair after what you went through—”

“I do not need or want to lie down right now.”

“Neither do I.”

He smiled, rising and taking the few steps over to the closer chair. She watched him, waiting for a sign that he was struggling due to his concussion, but she did not find any. He sat down, and she took his hand. “Was that what you wanted?”

“Yes, actually.”

He turned his thumb over her hand in small soothing circles, and she thought what he was doing was not too dissimilar from what she found herself doing to her stomach when the baby grew agitated. “This is—”

“Rather inappropriate, I would think, coming from a man who refuses to marry her.”

Robbie dropped her hand, stiffening as he withdrew from Violet. “I think there’s—”

“I don’t see how you can act as though what we were doing was all that inappropriate when you have been lying all this time.”

“Lying?”

Violet nodded, rising to face her aunt. She did not know if she was right about this, did not know that she should do it, but at the same time, she did not think she could ignore what she’d realized yesterday. She could have tried to confront her aunt sooner, but with Robbie injured, it seemed a poor time. Now that he—and her mother—were here to hear it, she had to act. “You said we’d all be better off if no man by the name of Winston had ever come into our lives.”

“You wish to argue that point? Look at you. You would not be unwed and pregnant now if not for a man claiming to be a Winston, and this one—well, he is not much better, is he?”
Robbie frowned. “Excuse me, but I do not think that you can compare the two of us—”

“The man who jilted you was a Winston,” Violet said, her voice more confident than she was. “He was Robbie’s father, wasn’t he?”

Author’s Note: I went ahead to their next opportunity to talk. I considered doing a flashback for Robert, but again, I could not find one that connected to the story, so I didn’t do it. I also considered his conversation with the police, but I didn’t know that it would be all that useful to extend that when Robert covered the pertinent bits here.

“How are you feeling?”

Robert could not help smiling at her question, easing himself into one of the other chairs. He did not know how his head would fare today, since he had not been allowed much rest. He knew why they woke him every couple of hours, but he did not enjoy the experience and could not pretend otherwise. “Should I ask you that?”

Violet smiled. “I think, other than yesterday’s upset, the need for me to rest has been greatly exaggerated. I am not so much of an invalid. I don’t think I should have to be confined to bed, just that I must be careful. It is so frustrating to be pregnant.”

“I would not know.”

She laughed. “No, you wouldn’t. Though that would be quite interesting if that were possible.”

“So you like to imagine the impossible?”

She frowned. “I am not certain that is accurate. It is not like I enjoyed being compared to a sprite or a nymph. Those things are impossible, yet I dislike them. They are not the only things that make me uncomfortable to contemplate, either.”

“The man who deceived you…”

“He is, I think, one of the more difficult subjects to dwell upon,” she said, letting out a sigh. She lowered her head, her hand turning over her stomach. He winced, realizing that he had brought up more pain for her. That was all he ever did. “Did they… Did the police talk to you at all? Do you know if they found anything?”

He grimaced. “I rather felt as though they did not think I had heard anyone at all.”

“You mean they think you injured yourself? That you did that to your head? Why would you? That is absolutely absurd—”

“Is it?” He reached up to touch the wound, wincing again. “I’ve known men to suffer wounds far more grave than that, and even I know that there’s no good reason why he didn’t hit me a second time. If he wanted me dead, it would have been so easy…”

She shook her head. “No. I refuse to accept that. I know that he lied to me, that he betrayed me, but he is not a killer. I did not fall in love with a killer. I couldn’t have.”

Robert let out a breath. He didn’t—couldn’t—say much to that as he would only hurt her, but he couldn’t help thinking that she hadn’t known the man she’d married at all. He’d told her things that were Robert’s, not his. He had not given her much of his own truth, and that made him capable of anything, in Robert’s opinion. Still, he did not think she would want to hear that. “It may not have been his intention to kill me. I don’t know what he wanted to do. I don’t think he accomplished it because he left me there and I woke up not long after I’d been struck, but I don’t have any way of being certain. If we knew more of why he did what he did, then we would perhaps know why he might do this, but he is not going to tell us that.”

“Unless he already did and I don’t know what it is in what he told me. I don’t know what is significant there. The stories? The way that he sometimes referred to himself like a separate person—which makes sense when we consider that he was talking about you, not him. Perhaps there is something else that I should have noticed, but I do not know.”

Robert nodded. “That is still possible. Did he ever speak of a reason to hate my family? I suppose he spoke of hating my father, but that only leads me to ask who doesn’t hate my father?”

“I did not hate him, though he did his best to make me do so.” She shifted in her seat, looking toward the door as though she expected someone to enter, and he had to wonder where her mother and aunt were. Listening through some other door, perhaps? Or were they out in town, permitting her to leave her room and speak to him? They would not be pleased, then, when they returned.

“Nevertheless, unless he spoke of despising himself—me—or some other member of my family, I cannot see why he felt that he must do this.”

“Because he attacked you.”

“If he attacked me, yes,” Robert said. He sighed. “I wish I understood this. If that was him, then what did he want? To make me suffer? If he does hate me, then yes, I suppose he might, but why does he hate me?”

“I do not know.”

“I’m sorry. I did not expect you to have the answer. I’m only trying to think of it myself, and I spoke aloud when I should not have.”

She shook her head. “Of the two of us, it would seem that I should have that answer. I did know the imposter, and it seems that you did not.”

“Yet, as we have said so many times before, it does not make sense that it is someone who does not know me. Or that I do not know. I should know him.”

“Unless, of course, he is not punishing you for something you did but for something someone else did.”

Author’s Note: It’s always interesting when both the main characters should be resting. They never want to do it, and there’s always too much going on around them.

“I think,” Robbie said, still huddled over the bowl, “assuming this is the work of that man is… premature.”

Violet put her hand on his back, wishing he was not in so much pain. She did not care for seeing him this way, and she had to think that she was part to blame. She had drawn him here, hadn’t she? She’d got him to come with her letter, one that had said too much. Of course he’d come to her instead of forcing her to go to his home. He was a good man, a gentleman, and he’d been willing to listen to her even though he knew he was not married. He’d come to see her, to hear her side, and she valued that. Still, if not for her, he would still be safe in his father’s home. He would not be here to be attacked, not by Winston or anyone else who might have done this.

“Who else would it be?”

“It is possible that my father did not leave. Or that someone thought I had his money and tried to take it.”

“Or they might have done it because he hasn’t married you.”

Violet sighed. She had not thought of that, but it was another reason for her to hate the part she had played in him being injured. “Oh, Robbie, I am so—”

“This might have nothing to do with you. We don’t know why I was attacked. It could even have been about the war.”

“I doubt that,” her mother said. She rose, walking over to the door. “Thank you for coming, Doctor. We’ve done what we can for him, but neither me nor my sister is a nurse.”

“You should be in bed, Mrs. Winston.”

Violet grimaced. “I am not the one you need worry about. He could have more than a concussion, and if that’s true—”

“Come now,” her mother said, taking her arm. “Let’s get you out of the way so that the doctor can examine Mr. Winston. You just sit over here for now, and we’ll get you in bed in a few minutes.”

She groaned, sitting back on the chair. She would rather be with Robbie, but she was not a doctor. He needed treatment. They also needed the police. She wondered if they had been searching the park for the man who had hurt Robbie and that was what delayed them. They should have been here by now.

“Mrs. Carpenter?”

“Officer. Thank goodness you’ve come. Mr. Winston found his way here after he was attacked, and I think he was quite fortunate to make it this far.”

“I don’t think whoever it was that hit me expected me to wake so soon, nor did I. I think the worst of it has passed. I already vomited.”

“You’re going to need to do more than that to recover, Winston.”

He grimaced. “I suppose now I have to rest in bed.”

Violet laughed. “At least I won’t be alone with those orders. If it were not completely inappropriate, they could put us in a ward together—or just a room—and let us spend our confinement together. I’d be more willing to stay in bed if I knew you were safe.”

He reached up to push the doctor’s hand away. “I doubt that I would be attacked again the minute that I tried to leave. Not that I would object to having company while I am recovering. I think that the worst part of it of being wounded were those long, horrible hours where I could only lie there, alone. I had nothing but my thoughts, and those thoughts were dark.”

“Then we should not leave you alone this time.”

Beatrice frowned. “Mr. Winston has much to discuss with the police. You can leave him to do that. He has plenty of company. You need to get back to bed.”

“Aunt Beatrice—”

“She is right. Both of you need your rest. Mr. Winston can tell the police what happened to him, and you will lie down again so that the baby does not come too soon. Remember, as much as a child is a blessing, this is a dangerous time for you. Things could—It is dangerous.”

Robbie turned to her, trying for a reassuring look. “I will be in a bed of my own soon, and I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you or the baby because of me. I’m sure that we… We will have a lot to discuss when this is over.”

They already had plenty to talk of, she could not help thinking, but she nodded. She would have to trust that he would tell her whatever the others were trying to keep from her. She would rather stay and watch over him herself, but she knew that was impossible. Not only was it inappropriate, her body and the baby objected to her behavior, and if she was not careful, she’d lose consciousness right here. She had little choice but to let herself be taken back to her room to rest.

“We will talk as soon as we can, Violet. I promise.”

She smiled at him. “I know. I look forward to it.”

Author’s Note: So I find myself posting two parts again today. That’s what happens when I’m a bit ahead and Wednesday rolls around with words I can use in a part that’s almost done or ready to go next. This one was half done when I saw the words, and I thought, “well, I was going to post the flashback, but maybe I’ll skip it and just go right to this scene.”

Since there needed to be some delay between the scene in the park and this new piece, I went ahead and left the flashback in where it is, though I might have to move it when I organize this into a book later.

Anyway, this is the one that has the Three Word Wednesday prompts in it, trample, vigilant, and helpless.

“I think you may want to reconsider your position on that young man’s honor.”

Violet lowered her book with a frown, blinking at her aunt’s words. She had not been able to pay much attention to the pages that she was turning, her mind occupied with thoughts of Robbie, of Winston, and the pain in her back from the child. “What?”

“He is not gone. I saw him in the marketplace today.”

Disliking her aunt’s rather triumphant tone, Violet sat up, knowing that her mother was frowning as well.

“You saw Mr. Winston in town? Today?”

“Yes. He lied to you about leaving.”

Violet almost laughed. Her aunt was so proud of her discovery, but Violet could not help the rather perverse satisfaction that came with knowing that she could ruin the older woman’s triumph with ease. “He did not actually say that he was going. He said that he would if it was necessary. He did say he was planning on leaving, but planning is not the same as doing, as you have often told me.”

Beatrice’s nose wrinkled with disgust. “It does you no good to hide behind those excuses, child.”

“It does you no good to seek out these things to spoil hope or disparage him, either, sister. I know you were once wounded in love, but not all men are so false, and not all of us women are the same. We are not so terribly naïve as to believe beyond all reason, but your heart has become so cold that you do not attribute a positive motive to anyone anymore.”

“That is not true, Rose.”

“You disagree with my assessment? I suppose you always have. You will not alter my opinion. You have ceased to see anything in the world of value or goodness. I have been a widow now for twenty years. No man has been able to tempt me away from that state, a thing that would suggest that should be quite miserable indeed. I am not. I have watched my daughter grow, something that is to my mind a privilege. I have seen her suffer, and I have almost lost her and my grandchild. Yet you do not see me turning away from life and becoming bitter. You did not see Violet do it, either, and she was betrayed in one of the worst ways possible and will have a child because of it.”

Beatrice sat down, leaning back in her chair. “We should all curse the day any man named Winston came into our lives.”

Violet placed her hand on her stomach, looking to her mother and then back at her aunt. “The man you knew, the one who jilted you… His name was Winston? You wouldn’t mean—”

“Mrs. Carpenter, Mrs. Carpenter! Someone attacked Mr. Winston. He just stumbled in here with blood on his head and asked for a towel and—”

“Robbie?”

“Calm yourself, Harriet. Violet, you stay. Beatrice and I will see what has happened.”

“Mother—”

“Don’t move.”

Violet waited for her mother and aunt to walk away before she made her move. They were both fools to think that she would stay still when she knew that Robbie was hurt. She was not that helpless, no matter what the doctor said. She was pregnant, not ill, and since all they could do for her was tell her to rest, she could rest later, after she knew that he would recover from whatever had happened.

She took the stairs with as much care as possible, making a slow descent until the end. Her current shape did not allow her to do much running, but she pushed herself on until she could get to the parlor, opening the door to see Robbie on the floor with her mother fussing over him.

“How did this happen?”

“I fear I was rather less than vigilant. I heard a voice call my name, but I did not see the speaker, and I thought… Well…”

“You thought you’d gone back to the war, did you?” Violet asked, easing herself down beside him despite the glares from the other two women. He blinked, and she grimaced as she saw the pain in his face. At least she did not see much blood. After Harriet said he’d had blood on him, Violet had feared something terrible.

His hand brushed hers. “Yes. It… I don’t know why. I guess it was—I didn’t stop to think of the possibility that the person was hiding or intended me harm. I didn’t realize they’d hit me the moment I was distracted. I feel like my head’s been trampled upon by whole armies, and I rather think I might deserve it for being so easily unbalanced.”

“Nonsense.”

He forced a smile that turned into a grimace. “I think I’d better have a bowl. I do believe it’s a concussion, and I’ll vomit in a minute.”

“You were doing rather well there.”

He closed his eyes. “I wish that would last. My head aches so… Sorry I got you out of bed. Was not going to hurt you again.”

“I am not hurting. You are.”

“My father said terrible things about you, and I told him to leave and that I didn’t want his name or his money. I… I am penniless now. A penniless cripple. Cannot believe I did that. Should have… I don’t know. Shouldn’t have done it before my debts were paid. So sorry…”

“Oh, Robbie,” Violet said, wincing as her aunt carried over a bowl to set beside him. “It’s not your fault. I am sorry to have caused this rift between you and your father and—”

“Move, Violet,” her mother said as she pushed in to help Robbie reach the bowl when he vomited. “There, Mr. Winston. That might actually help. You just rest now. We’ve already called the doctor, and we’ll get you taken care of.”

“Can’t pay for the doctor. Please don’t ask him to come.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beatrice said. “You need the doctor. Worry about the money when you are not trying to cover my sister and niece in vomit.”

“We need the police as well,” Violet said. “We need them to find the person who did this to Robbie. I… I can’t help fearing that it might have been Winston. That… That he has returned, and if he has… I don’t know what we will do.”

Author’s Note: So… I don’t know that it’s much of a twist, but it’s something, I suppose.

“How is she?” Robert knew he had no right to demand the answer from her doctor, but he could not help it. The moment that the other man had emerged from her room, he had descended upon the man, determined to have an answer. He had to know just how much damage his father had done.

The doctor stopped to adjust his vest. “I can only recommend that she remain in bed for the rest of her pregnancy. Her body cannot handle further strain.”

Robert frowned. That sounded as though she might die if she left the bed, and the man had to be exaggerating that. How would she stand it? She needed to be out in that garden of hers. She needed the flowers and her freedom. “She seemed to be coping rather well before today. Did my father’s behavior do that much harm?”

The doctor fixed his eyes upon him. His glare would have made Robert uncomfortable if he had not grown up with RJ Winston for a father. The doctor did not intimidate him. “It was against my advice that she saw you.”

He swallowed. He knew that he’d upset her a few times, and he’d hated it. Still, he hadn’t thought it was that bad. If he had done this, if his questions and presence had been so upsetting, so much of a strain—and he had seen some of the strain, he’d been leaving to spare her more—then he should never have come. He could only blame himself.

“Robbie?”

At the sound of her voice, he pushed past the doctor and into Violet’s room. He stopped in the doorway, aware of his improper actions. He should not be here, and yet, he could not make himself go. He stepped forward, somehow crossing all the way to the bed. “I am so sorry—I hope your aunt had my father thrown out—”

“Here,” she said, taking his hand and moving it to her stomach, almost forcing him to sit on her bed. “You can see for yourself that the child is still well. Agitated, yes, but alive.”

He smiled as he felt the baby moving under his hand. She was right. The child seemed rather well, though he would not blame it for being angry. “I am so—”

“Your father will say I am lying, but he… That is…” She took a deep breath, her eyes darting toward the door. She bit her lip, covering his hand with hers. “I do not want to say this because it is upsetting and almost impossible to believe, but I do not know if we will have another chance to talk if the doctor and my family—they will not want you to return or me to get out of bed.”

“You would not let them stop you from leaving your bed, even if you had to sneak out at night,” he said. He did not doubt that she would find a way should it be necessary. He hoped that it would not be. He did not want to see her hurt.

“Perhaps, but in case I am unable to see you again, I must tell you… Your father looks much like picture that Winston showed me of his father. I know it has been some time, but I swear they are the same man. Robbie, he not only stole your stories, he stole a photograph as well. That man… Winston must be insane and convinced that he is you.”

He closed his eyes. “That… I don’t understand. It is not that I do not believe you. I do. I just don’t understand why anyone would do that. Why me? I had… My life is not that good, and you could even say that it is rather terrible in some respects. The war, my arm…”

“I do not know why he would do something like that,” she said, and he opened his eyes again, guilty. He was still too concerned with his problems, not giving enough attention to hers, but he could hear the pain in her voice. “It makes so little sense.”

“My father was wrong. I cannot apologize enough for his behavior. He had no right to say anything to you, but what he did say—you are not a liar and—even if you were desperate, do not dignify his behavior by accepting his offer. Not that I thought you would, but he… I am so ashamed of him, of the way he treated you, and I am sorry that we caused you so much distress.”

She shook her head. “The moment I have a twinge, everyone shuffles me off to bed again. They can’t do anything for me except tell me to rest, and unfortunately, they are rather insistent upon it.”

“I should let you rest, then. That, and I should see to my father. I have to make him leave.”

She frowned. “Are you going with him?”

“If it proves necessary, yes. I rather think it would be better if you did not have to suffer either of our company while you recover.”

“Will… Will you at least write, then, and tell me what you learned, if anything? I do not want anything else from you or your family, but if you find Winston—”

“I assure you, I will tell you. I will not hold back any information from you. That is a promise.”

“Thank you, Robbie. I am… very grateful to you for all you have done.”

“It is nothing.”

“No, it is not. Trust me, it is not.”

Author’s Note: Sometimes, when a person is convinced that they’re right, they won’t listen to anyone else. Robert’s father is definitely one of those people.

So I have now officially separated this story out, given it its own category and renamed it. It has its own listing on the Kabobbles Serials page, plus a page with the summary and temporary cover art here. I am very proud of the cover art for both this and A Perfect Sunset, as they turned out quite beautiful.

Admittedly, part of the reason I incorporated the Three Word Wednesday words into this section was to show off the new organization and the covers. I had to share the covers.

The words today: lanky, destruction, and ultimatum.

Violet put her hands on her stomach, closing her eyes as she did. She did not know what she would do now. She had cried herself out in her mother’s room last night, and her mother had tried to help her. She was not going to say that she had not been helped, but she woke with no more answers than she’d had before. A part of her was relieved that Robbie had not come this morning, and yet at the same time, she found herself out of sorts because he had not. Would he never return, then? He had already suggested that he should leave, several times, in fact, and after that disastrous dinner, she had almost been certain that he would.

Why should he? What possible good had their talks done? She had not told him anything that could help him find the man who had taken his name, and she knew he felt that all he did when he spoke to her was hurt her.

True, it was painful to hear that he had been the one in all those stories that had amused her so much, the ones that made her think of Winston as a playful child, not as practiced or charming as he’d been when she met him. Sometimes when a person was too charming, they seemed as though they tried too much to conceal what they were not proud of, and while neither Winston nor Robbie had been too proud of the childhood mischief, she had been satisfied by believing that was what had led to him being so charming.

She had, of course, been quite wrong, but that was only clear now that he was gone and Robbie was here. Winston had seemed sincere before, and the charm was perhaps the most worrisome thing she’d noticed. Then again, she was a fool.

“I demand that you drop this ridiculous claim of yours,” a man said, bursting into the room, and Violet jerked as she sat up, frowning.

Robbie lagged behind the other man, his movements less forceful, more stumbling. She almost thought he would fall as he tried to catch the other man. Beside him, Robbie seemed lanky, though he had never been tall, lacking in all polish and bearing, with the older man standing rigid and disapproving, glaring at her from the other side of the room. Violet had to wonder if Harriet had been hurt when that man plowed his way into the house, because she doubted he’d been willing to wait, and Robbie looked rather guilty, so she thought she’d find that the maid was at least shaken if not injured.

Violet considered rising, but she did not want to do that, not when it could mean that she, too, might be pushed aside, something far more dangerous given her current condition.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am sorry, Violet. I tried to persuade him not to do this, but Father has—”

“I am here to tell you that you will get nothing from my son or from me. This farce has gone on long enough already, and you will cease to make any further claims that impugn the honor of this family. Your lies will cease immediately.”

She swallowed, shaking her head. How dare he? What gave that man the right to come into her home and demand anything of her? “Sir, I have not and will not ask you for anything. I have made no claims. I have not lied. My story is not a trick or a game or anything close to such things. I assure you that I would no more joke about my condition or situation than I would knowingly ingest poison. This is not only undeniable, it is rather… irreversible.”

His eyes went to her stomach, and she let out a breath, hoping to forestall the next lecture that was coming. Robbie crossed to her side. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. Father is not in a mood where he will listen to anyone, and I won’t have him upsetting you after all that I have done. It was my intention to leave, but he would not be stopped. He doesn’t care what kind of destruction he brings with him, just that he gets his way.”

She nodded, her hand on her back. “I understand, and I do not—Oh. That… The child has become quite agitated. Will you please—”

“I see your pretense has fooled my son, but then he was always the gullible sort. Very well. I will settle upon you one thousand dollars. That is all you will ever get. You will stop your claims and retire in silence with that bastard child of yours.”

Violet stared, trying to summon a response to that horrible ultimatum, not sure if the tears stinging her eyes were motivated by his words or by the increasing amount of pain she felt.

“If anyone here is a bastard, it is you, Father. You should be ashamed of yourself,” Robbie told him. He knelt next to her, biting his lip. “I doubt I can carry you up to your room, but I am concerned—Harriet, go and get the doctor. I think Mrs. Winston has need of him again.”