Candlelit Madness: A 1920s Historical Mystery Anthology including Violet Carlyle

by Beth Byers

  Ro started to argue but stopped herself. “That would be fine with me, as long as you promise to still call me Ro when it is only the two of us.”

  “I will at that,” Elizabeth readily agreed, seeming to be put at ease.. “Now, isn’t it time for you to go upstairs?”

  With that, Ro stood and hugged Elizabeth. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I don’t know how I could have gotten through these two weeks without you. I never would have imagined this is how I’d spent my honeymoon and you made a troublesome situation quite bearable.”

  “You’re most welcome. Now, go. You don’t want to be late for your own private party!”

  On the way up, Ro checked with the kitchen staff to be sure everything was in order, ignoring the fact that she was in such a daring state of undress beneath her outer clothing. She was pleased to learn that everything was perfect. The dishes the chef was preparing looked mouthwatering. She made her way to the portside deck to see that all the candles were set up and an outdoor chaise was positioned for them to lounge on while they watched the sunset. She’d instructed the wait staff to light the candles before the sun finished setting. She’d even arranged to have one of the staff with a talent on the violin to play quietly during dinner to add to the romance.

  Everything was in place and now she waited for Leonard to arrive. He’d gone to shore earlier in a smaller boat because she insisted that he be away for a bit so she could surprise him fully. She meandered to the front of the large yacht to the bridge where the captain piloted the ship.

  “Is this where we are anchoring, Captain?”

  The old gentleman with a white beard and rugged, dark skin leathered by the sun smiled warmly at her.

  “Yes, Mrs. Ripley. We’re anchored and will remain here until morning when we begin our journey back to England.”

  “Very good. Has Mr. Ripley returned yet from his outing?”

  “Not yet. Shall I radio the small vessel to check on their schedule?”

  Ro eyed the sky and guess there were still nearly two hours until sunset. No need to worry yet, she supposed. After all, she’d insisted that he stay gone until closer to sunset but understood that the sunset itself was part of the surprise.

  “That’s not necessary, Captain. I’m sure they are on their way back. I’ll wait on the deck and have a glass of chardonnay. Have a wonderful night.”

  She slowly made her way to the back of the deck and sipped the chilled wine that the yacht’s wait staff brought her, making herself comfortable on the plush lounge furniture. Tonight was the night, everything was perfect and when Leonard arrived they would eat and drink and dance the night away. Then, if she had anything to say about it and because she was giddy with her newfound sense of power, he’d make love to her right on the deck of her yacht. She couldn’t think of a more perfect way to close out their last night in the warm, blue Mediterranean Sea.

  The sun continued to dip in the sky and the horizon must have changed colors a dozen times. Various shades of pink, orange, purple, and yellow melted together amongst the white puffy clouds. The same colors reflected on the surface of the sea and she was certain she’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life. Unfortunately, as the sun slipped lower and lower, Ro’s anxiety climbed higher and higher. Leonard still hadn’t returned. By her estimation, the sun would be completely down in half an hour. She’d sipped her way through an entire bottle of wine and one of the stewards was walking toward her with an unopened bottle of chilled champagne.

  “The sunset is quite beautiful, Mrs. Ripley. Shall I open the champagne for you so you may enjoy the two together?”

  “Not yet,” Ro said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. It certainly wasn’t his fault that Leonard was late. “Would you please check with the captain about the schedule of the boat?”

  “Of course.” He turned on his heel, taking the champagne with him.

  “Hurry up, Leonard,” Ro said under her breath. “You’ve almost missed it.”

  She stared out at the sunset, tipsy from the wine she’d consumed, and tried to remain calm. Leonard would be here any moment. Even if he missed the sunset, she reasoned to herself, the candlelit dinner would be positively beautiful. She kept reminding herself that a happy marriage was more than any one moment but a collection of a lifetime of moments.

  When her thoughts that her honeymoon so far was a collection of failures and disappointments started to bubble to the surface of her consciousness, she quickly pushed them away. She couldn’t allow the negative thoughts to take root. They wouldn’t serve her.

  The steward returned and when Ro saw the look in his eyes, she knew he did not have good news.

  “I’m afraid the boat hasn’t heard from Mr. Ripley. It’s still in port, waiting for his return. I, well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it doesn’t appear Mr. Ripley will return before the sun has gone down.”

  “I see,” Ro said, her heart and stomach sinking with her hopes and the setting sun.

  “Is there anything I can get for you, Mrs. Ripley?”

  She thought for a moment. “Thank you, Mr. Smith, yes. Would you please send for Elizabeth? Tell her to hurry, that it’s quite urgent.”

  “Yes, of course.” He and walked quickly out of sight.

  Utter disappointment waged war with indignant fury at her predicament. She was beyond angry that Leonard was standing her up on her own honeymoon, but the oceans of sadness underneath the anger threatened to drown her if it took control. She let the anger boil over and sat seething, the breeze tugging free locks of her hair, until Elizabeth appeared, breathless from her quick response.

  “Ro. What is it? What’s happened? Mr. Smith said nothing but that you sent for me.”

  Ro smiled at Elizabeth, calming with her presence as she’d hoped she would. She’d been a more faithful companion than her own husband. She should get to enjoy a lovely dinner and a beautiful sunset. Ro was annoyed she hadn’t thought of it sooner. She stood and pulled out a chair at the luxurious table set for two.

  “Come, sit with me. Enjoy the sunset and we’ll share a meal. It seems my husband,” she nearly spat the word out, “is otherwise engaged and couldn’t be bothered to return for his sunset surprise.”

  “Oh my, I—I don’t know what to say.”

  Ro sighed. “There’s nothing to say, Elizabeth. It seems I gave Leonard the benefit of the doubt about his intentions and have married myself to someone who isn’t at all interested in being a husband. I have no idea what I’ll do about that once I return to London, but for now—” she gestured to the captivating sunset before them, “—let’s enjoy this splendor together. Do you like lobster?”

  Elizabeth paled and remained standing, looking between the gorgeous sky, the elegant table setting, and Ro. “I—I’ve never had lobster, Mrs. er, I mean, Ro. I don’t know that it’s proper for me to sit with you—”

  “Now, now, enough of that. I decide what is proper for my staff and I say what would be the most proper is for me to not spend the last night of my honeymoon alone. Now, be a dear and sit down, unless you have something against a Mediterranean sunset?”

  Elizabeth sat, her small hands trembling, and Ro smiled warmly. “Thank you, Elizabeth. For two weeks, you’ve been a loyal companion during what may arguably be the worst honeymoon in the history of marriages. It would mean quite a lot to share this meal and this sunset with you.”

  Elizabeth nodded and took a tentative sip of water, the only food or drink currently on the table. “It’s my honor, Ro. I’m sorry that your husband’s disappointed you again.”

  “I am sorry, too. Elizabeth. Very, very sorry. I suspect, though, that before I’m through with him, Leonard will be the most sorry of all.” She waved a hand to get the attention of Mr. Smith, who stood some ways off.

  “Yes, Mrs. Ripley, how can I be of assistance?”

  “Please start dinner service, beginning with cracking open that champagne. Elizabeth will be my dinner partner this evening.”

  “Y
es, Mrs.—”

  She helped up a hand. “Please don’t call me Mrs. Ripley. At this point, I hardly qualify to be Leonard’s wife. You may address me as Miss Lavender until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Yes, Miss Lavender. I’ll bring the champagne right away.”

  They sat there, hardly speaking, while they ate and drank. The sun disappeared into the ocean and Mr. Smith lit the candles.

  “Candles are such a delight, don’t you think, Elizabeth?”

  She nodded, still uncomfortable.

  “Did you enjoy the lobster?” Ro tried again. Elizabeth had eaten, and while seemed to enjoy the food, she’d seemed not to have much of an appetite.

  “Yes, very much. Dipped in the drawn butter. Delicious.” She looked at Ro for a moment, seeming to hesitate to say whatever was on her mind.

  “Do you have something to say, Elizabeth? You may speak freely. Tonight you are not my attendant but my dinner guest. Be yourself. Consider it a favor to me.”

  She took a deep breath. “Mr. Ripley—I don’t think he deserves you.”

  Ro laughed an empty, sorrowful laugh. “I do suppose you are right about that. He certainly did not behave as I anticipated a newly married man would.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

  “What is it, Elizabeth? Spit it out.”

  “If I knew something very awful about your husband, would you want to know? It’s not my place to say anything, except you’re so good to me, it doesn’t seem right to know what I know and say nothing. I don’t know what to do.”

  Ro looked at Elizabeth and considered before she spoke. Finally, she said, “If the situation were reversed and you were the wife, would you want to know whatever it is you know for yourself?”

  Elizabeth nodded, without hesitation. “Yes, Ro. I would.”

  “Out with it, then. What has Leonard Ripley done to not deserve me?”

  “It’ll ruin every good opinion you have of him, I’m afraid. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Ro braced herself, knowing that whatever Elizabeth had to say, it wasn’t going to be good.

  Elizabeth’s voice shook when she began to speak. “Mr. Ripley’s been sending for different women to join him in his bedchambers every night. He makes sure they’re gone by morning. He spends his time with you during the day, but every night of your honeymoon, he’s taken up with other women.”

  Ro’s brain was already moving sluggishly from all the wine and then the champagne. She stared at Elizabeth for a moment that seemed like an hour before she found any words.

  “Would you please repeat that? You can’t possibly mean that I’ve been languishing alone in my honeymoon suite while my husband was honeymooning with someone else? That’s not even fathomable. I don’t— How could he— I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Ro rushed to lean over the side of the boat and emptied the contents of her stomach. Elizabeth was by her side immediately, holding her hair and muttering soothing words of comfort.

  “There, there, now, Ro. Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right.”

  Once her stomach was empty and Ro was standing upright again, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  She believed Elizabeth. She knew that her revelation made much more sense to explain what had transpired—or rather not transpired—between her and Leonard over these last weeks. Yet, she wanted desperately not to believe it about him. That would make her look like a naïve fool. What would people think that her own husband was so repulsed by her that he couldn’t even bear to spend one night with her? She was ashamed and hurt, and most of all crushingly sadness.

  “How do you know this? How could you know this?”

  “Mr. Smith told me just today. I’d have told you sooner if I’d known. I swear it.”

  “And this has been happening every night?”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry. Sorry to be the one you have to hear this from and sorry that this is something you have to know at all. It’s not right. It’s just not right.”

  Ro was still leaning on the rail, now the moonlight glistened on the sea. A sea that had held so much beauty now resembled the darkness that appeared out of nowhere in her heart. In the moments since she’d heard the news from Elizabeth, she’d closed her heart completely to Leonard Ripley. Maybe, only maybe she’d allow herself to cry over him tonight, but then no more.

  She stood up, squared her shoulders and took Elizabeth’s hand. “Come with me.”

  Ro, leading a stunned and silent Elizabeth, made her way to the Captain’s bridge.

  “Captain, please call back the smaller boat. Mr. Ripley will not be returning to England with us on the yacht.”

  He smiled, clearly aware of Leonard’s atrocious behavior and thrilled to see Ro standing up for herself. “Yes, Mrs. Ripley. Right away.”

  “Miss Lavender, please, from now on. Please tell all the staff. I’ll no longer be going by his last name. Please return to England as soon as is prudent and do not allow Leonard to step foot back on my yacht.”

  “Yes, Miss Lavender. As you wish.”

  She turned to walk out but paused when the captain called out.

  “Miss Lavender, if I may be so bold, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I always do, eventually.” Then to Elizabeth, “Come, my darling. Let’s return to my suite and eat chocolate until we forget our names. We’ll wrangle another bottle of champagne while we’re at it.”

  The END

  Betrayed, Besotted, & Burnt

  A Hettie Hughes Adventure

  Beth Byers

  August 1917

  Hettie tapped her finger against her champagne glass. Her other hand held the note she’d received from her husband that evening and that would soon join the others in her mother-of-pearl box where the catalogue of her love lay. It had been told, that story of love, through all the letters her husband had sent since the time he’d first seen her.

  She’d immediately recognized the poem from his most recent letter. He’d altered it for this evening. It was his use of Elizabeth Barrett Browning that had first made her think that maybe he was in earnest with his proclamations.

  This evening, he’d written:

  Beloved, my Beloved, when I think

  That thou wast in the world a year ago…

  When yet we’d meet… When yet we’d love…

  Happy Anniversary of our first meeting, my beloved.

  8:00pm, The Hummingbird Hotel Dining Room

  If she were being perfectly honest with herself, she was surprised he remembered their first evening together. He had, in fact, been less than attentive since they’d returned from their honeymoon. Here she had been—thinking he’d become distracted by the return to Montreal. She should be ashamed of herself, she thought, with the way she’d been feeling more and more woebegone while Harvey had been busy. She’d even started to wonder if he’d taken a lover.

  This would be an evening for apologies. Perhaps the distance between them was nothing more than her own insecurities. She had been shocked when he’d picked her from the crowd. She still was, really. She was too well aware that she was ghostly pale, too plump for fashion, with skin prone to spots.

  Yet the handsome Harvey Hughes had let his gaze alight upon her. It had landed, moved beyond her, and then slowly returned. That gaze had met hers with a shocking warmth and then he’d smiled slowly. He seemed energized by the vision of her. At the time, she’d glanced behind her to see who he was really looking at and only found the wall she’d been decorating.

  For their anniversary, she dressed with care, setting aside the pale pink he preferred to wear a deep forest green that matched her eyes. The dress was embroidered and beaded with feathers of the same color. With her shoes and an emerald necklace her aunt had given her, she was a monochromatic swathe of green except for her own orangey-red hair.

  The table that had been set aside under her own name was in th
e shadows near the dance floor. It had been decorated with white rose petals, a candelabra with short wicks to provide a low light for the table, and there was a bottle of champagne on ice. The waiter seated her, opened the bottle, poured her a glass and then bowed.

  She sipped her champagne and gazed at the dance floor. Her corner was dark enough that no one could see her except perhaps for her ghostly face. She grinned at the idea and then eagerly glanced around, looking her Harvey.

  He was handsome, so handsome. Strong with broad shoulders, blonde hair, and pretty eyes. His smile was ready, and his jokes were frequent. She had spent their courting, engagement, and honeymoon laughing.

  Hettie caught sight of a beautiful blonde woman, thin, with pointed features and a mischievous smile. This was the type of woman that she’d have thought Harvey would wed.

  She glanced down at her plate and found another note tucked under the serviette. She smiled at it, hoping it was more than a note saying that he’d been kept over and would be late.

  A thin, curving handwriting wrote:

  Enjoy the truth.

  Hettie blinked at the note. It was so…ominous. After a moment, she read it again. And then again. She stared at the words. Her friend, Samantha, used those same curls on her Ts. As though the curve in the cursive weren’t enough, Samantha looped the end before she linked the tail to the next letter.

  Why would Samantha be writing to Hettie? Why would Samantha even know they were here? Samantha and Hettie had been good enough friends in school, but they’d grown apart since leaving school. Hettie stared blindly, her mind racing, and then she saw them.

  The truth, it seemed, was Harvey dancing with Samantha. He gazed at her with love before kissing his way up her neck despite the audience.

  Stomach churning, Hettie reached for the champagne bucket and vomited what she’d drank. Trembling, she stood and with a shaking breath, she blew out the candles.