“Mother,” Hyacinth said with a great show of solicitude,“you know I love you dearly—”“Why is it,” Violet pondered, “that I have come to expectnothing good when I hear a sentence beginning inthat manner?”

“Say whatever is in your heart,” Violet said. Her lipstwisted wryly. “And if that doesn’t work, I suggest thatyou take a book and knock him over the head with it.”Hyacinth blinked, then blinked again. “I beg your pardon.”“I didn’t say that,” Violet said quickly.Hyacinth felt herself smile. “I’m rather certain youdid.”“Do you think?” Violet murmured, concealing her ownsmile with her teacup.“A large book,” Hyacinth queried, “or small?”“Large, I think, don’t you?”Hyacinth nodded. “Have we The Complete Works ofShakespeare in the library?”Violet’s lips twitched. “I believe that we do.”Something began to bubble in Hyacinth’s chest. Somethingvery close to laughter. And it felt so good to feel itagain.“I love you, Mother,” she said, suddenly consumed bythe need to say it aloud. “I just wanted you to know that.”“I know, darling,” Violet said, and her eyes were shiningbrightly. “I love you, too.”

“Charlotte Stokehurst,” Violet Bridgerton announced, “is getting married.”“Today?” Hyacinth queried, taking off her gloves.Her mother gave her a look. “She has become engaged. Her mother told me this morning.”Hyacinth looked around. “Were you waiting for me in the hall?”“To the Earl of Renton,” Violet added. “Renton.”“Have we any tea?” Hyacinth asked. “I walked all the way home, and I’m thirsty.”“Renton!” Violet exclaimed, looking about ready to throw up her hands in despair. “Did you hear me?”“Renton,” Hyacinth said obligingly. “He has fat ankles.”“He’s—” Violet stopped short. “Why were you looking at his ankles?”

“Francesca actually felt her chin drop. “Mother,” she said, shaking her head, “you really should have stopped at seven.”“Children, you mean?” Violet asked, sipping at her tea. “Sometimes I do wonder.”“Mother!” Hyacinth exclaimed.Violet just smiled at her. “Salt?”“It took her eight tries to get it right,” Hyacinth announced, thrusting the salt cellar at her mother with a decided lack of grace.“And does that mean that you, too, hope to have eight children?” Violet inquired sweetly.“God no,” Hyacinth said. With great feeling. And neither she nor Francesca could quite resist a chuckle after that.”

“You know I love you,' said the other mother flatly.'You have a very funny way of showing it,' said Coraline.”

“You’re very impatient,” Violet said, facing the door. “You always have been.”“I know,” Eloise said, wondering if this was a scolding, and if so, why was her mother choosing to do it now?“I always loved that about you,” Violet said. “I always loved everything about you, of course, but for some reason I always found your impatience especially charming. It was never because you wanted more, it was because you wanted everything.”Eloise wasn’t so sure that sounded like such a good trait.“You wanted everything for everyone, and you wanted to know it all and learn it all, and . . .”For a moment Eloise thought her mother might be done, but then Violet turned around and added, “You’ve never been satisfied with second-best, and that’s good, Eloise. I’m glad you never married any of those men who proposed in London. None of them would have made you happy. Content, maybe, but not happy.”Eloise felt her eyes widen with surprise.“But don’t let your impatience become all that you are,” Violet said softly. “Because it isn’t, you know. There’s a great deal more to you, but I think sometimes you forget that.” She smiled, the gentle, wise smile of a mother saying goodbye to her daughter.”