The injustice of his suggestion pushed me to my feet. Battle drums beat in my brain. “I pledged my life to Theo mere days ago. I care for him too much to desert him at the first sign of hardship. You yourself said that Vincent is known for his dark moods. He always recovers.”

“If drinking and brooding was all, but this kind of madness? It’s in the blood—”

“Theo is nothing like him! He is gentle. And he is patient. He is loving…”

Dries’s chin dipped and his chest expanded. Stubbornness hardened his eyes. “You have not seen Theo this past year, living to excess.”

Nothing he hadn’t already told me in his letters. “You are too conservative.”

“You are too naive!”

“How will I learn and grow if I stay at home with Mama and Papa forever?” I shot back, then regretted that I’d raised my voice at my dear brother, so I begged. “Please, Dries. I have only just found happiness. If Theo and I are to gain Papa and Mama’s blessing, we need your support. Please.”

“It’s an unacceptable mésalliance. I will not allow my sister to marry into the family of a madman.” And then, without giving me a chance to respond, he strode away.

“Dries!” If my brother was against us, my parents would never consent to the marriage. I had to convince him and fast, before he fully set his heart on stopping the engagement. Changing his mind then would be more difficult still. “Heaven help a woman once a man made up his mind,” Mama always said, although dear Papa was most reasonable. Most of the time.

I ran after my brother. “Dries!”

Chapter Nine

Emsley

Friday began with a scare.

I climbed the stairs to Violet’s fourth-floor studio, in the jeans and sweater I had fallen asleep in on the top of the covers after reading another entry from Jo’s story. The true accounting of how Vincent, possibly my great-great-etc.-grandfather, had lost his ear, and given it to Rachel, possibly my great-great-etc.-grandmother.

After waking, a few seconds had passed until I remembered where I was, and remembered that Violet was gone. And then I’d cried. But I couldn’t cry all day. Bram Dekker, Violet’s attorney was coming over. I wanted to finish inspecting the house before he arrived. Which meant I had to face Violet’s studio.

I’d always loved the large open space, the clean lines and white walls. While the third floor was a dramatic theatrical performance, the fourth was pure peace, the kind of space where a person could reinvent herself, where one could create just about anything, including a new life.

I paused on the landing to brace myself.

Faint strains of a dramatic classical melody filtered through the studio door in front of me. Oh.