by Beth Byers
“Not much, I’m afraid. Jones didn’t have excessive debts. He wasn’t well-liked. We didn’t find any witnesses. I still cannot get the wife to tell me who hurt her. I can’t be sure if she’s protecting his memory or someone else. It was a very frustrating day, to be honest.”
“And you, Vi?” Lila asked. The twinkle in her gaze declared her faith in what Violet had learned. And perhaps that Lila had already talked to Kate.
“We left to offer assistance, which we did.” The innocent statement was met with a snort by Denny who knew Violet well enough to be sure she’d had ulterior motives. Vi ignored his reaction and Jack’s doubting expression. She said righteously, “In the process of offering succor, we ended up speaking with Marie Bosch, the vicar’s daughter.”
Kate took over re-capping their morning while Jack’s mouth tightened. She wasn’t surprised to see him pull his notebook out of his evening jacket, and the notes he took declared that what Violet and Kate had started to uncover would be continued in a more official capacity.
Violet wasn’t sure that Jack would be as successful in getting Marie to talk. Without Kate’s kind understanding and the girl’s apparently inbred desire to obey the peerage—as ridiculous as Violet found that—she was betting that Marie would either lie or cry when the police questioned her.
When they were finished with dinner, Jack had carefully noted the things Violet and Kate had found out before changing the subject back to lighter things. When they’d all finished eating, he led the way to the parlor and made a tray of drinks that were at least three times the number they needed.
He made an array of drinks too. Some were simple, like small glasses of ginger wine, and some were far more complicated, like the rum, chocolate liqueur, and cherry liqueur mixed with cream. Violet wasn’t sure that would even be good, but she’d try it even though she was persuaded Jack was mixing haphazardly. Everyone was watching Jack carefully as he put together the drinks and then turned to them with a grin.
“Hide and seek,” Jack announced. “Our personal bedrooms are off-limits as well as the servants’ quarters and anything outside. While we were eating, the servants were lighting fires and spreading candles throughout the house. Once you’re found, come back for a drink and the next round.”
Violet met Kate’s gaze. Vi hadn’t played that game since her school days. Both of them smiled in near unison. She glanced towards Lila and saw she and Denny were both grinning at the idea. Kate slipped off her shoes, and Violet did the same. The t-strap diamond heels were pretty, but they’d make too much noise if one were attempting to sneak around.
“I’ll be it.” Jack turned and faced the wall. “I’m only counting to one-hundred. Then I’ll be finding you.” Jack glanced back at Violet, winked, and she grinned.
He’d try to find her anyway.
Denny’s laugh drowned a quiet aside from Lila and the first few numbers of Jack’s counting. “Five…six…seven…”
Violet jumped up, grabbed a cocktail. She glanced back and then hurried towards the door.
“Vi always was the most brilliant of us,” Lila said, taking a drink herself. “Why wait to be found for drinks?”
The two of them clinked glasses and darted out of the parlor, separating outside the door. Violet ran up the stairs while Lila stepped into the coat closet. Denny was a breath behind Violet, but he moved towards the library. Vi could hear Kate’s laughter as she passed the portrait hall, but Kate didn’t come into the room that Violet had selected.
She tried to keep count along with Jack in her head, but she wasn’t sure if she’d been steady in her counting when she was running through the house. Violet glanced quickly around the long portrait gallery. The memory of Jack kissing her in the darkness here had drawn her to it. There! The window seat with the curtains. She darted across the room, closing the curtains to hide her location. Perhaps it would seem that one of the servants had already finished that task and the room was empty?
Violet sat down, pulling up her feet so they couldn’t be seen under the curtain, then curled onto her side. She propped her head on a palm and sipped her drink with her free hand. She’d taken ginger wine, and it soothed her to breathe it in.
A few minutes later, she heard a shout in the distance then Jack’s and Denny’s laughter. Footsteps passed the portrait gallery and Kate squeaked loud enough to have Violet biting back a laugh.
Violet was suddenly curious about the drink with chocolate and rum. Would it taste like ice cream with the sweet liqueurs and the cream? Jack had left the ice out of the drinks, so it wouldn’t melt while they were playing, but that drink chilled was suddenly a must-try.
The door to the portrait gallery opened. Violet held her breath as she heard heavy footsteps. She had no doubt that Jack was approaching her hiding place. Slowly, silently, she set down her glass and moved to the corner of the window seat. If it was Jack looking for Violet, he’d open at the break in the curtains, and she could dart for the stairs and the parlor.
A moment later, the curtain was flung back nearly in unison with Violet escaping out the side. She darted across the gallery pursued by Jack’s laugh. In her stockings, her feet were slipping, so she deliberately let herself slide, speeding through the door with her arms wheeling.
“Careful!” Jack called.
His shout chased her as she pelted out the hallway and down the hall. He gave chase, but Violet careened ahead with a combination of running and sliding. She reached the stairs before him.
With a gasp, she swung one leg over the railing and slid down the stairs on the banister a breath before he caught her arm. She was down the banister long before Jack, even though he was taking the stairs several at the time. She glanced back, saw him halfway down the stairs, winked and darted for the parlor.
Violet slid through the door on the renewed wood floors, slamming the door after herself. She flung herself to the tray of drinks, determined to grab one and be sitting before Jack entered. She snatched a chocolate rum cocktail, dropping onto the chesterfield, fighting her breathlessness as Jack raced into the parlor.
She crossed her ankles as Jack put his hands on his hips and examined her guileless pose. A moment later she glanced around and found both Kate and Denny. They had watched her entrance silently and she saluted them both with a drink.
“I win,” Violet said, sipping the drink. It spoke to her, sweet and yummy. Violet already wanted another. She pretended to lean back, but she needed ice. As Jack sat next to her, Violet stood and added ice to her drink before returning to his side. She handed him one of his own creations then lifted her glass to clink it with his.
“What in the world?” Lila demanded as she strolled back into the room. “I declare myself unsurprised that Jack hunted down Violet and left me bemoaning my fate in a closet.”
“I found Kate and Denny,” Jack said. “Neither of them were as wily as Vi.”
“She’s a vixen,” Denny announced, sipping his drink, adding, “Sneaky even.”
“I thought I was venomous,” Violet shot back.
“A venomous, vexing vixen of very…ah…other things that start with vee.”
“A valiant venture, my versatile chevalier,” Lila told Denny, trailing a finger along his back before choosing her own drink. She too selected one of the rum and chocolate drinks.
“Try ice,” Violet suggested.
Lila added some, sipped, and paused to close her eyes. She sipped a second time. “That is deliciously divine.”
“A decadent drink for my dear darlings.” Violet took another sip.
“From your dear darling,” Jack said. “Dashing dabbler in delicatessens that I am.”
Kate lifted her own drink. “Violet, vanquisher of vanishing, victorious and versatile. I surrender.”
They laughed and Kate turned on the wireless. The wail of a trumpet filled the room, and Jack pulled Violet into a dance in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t quite dancing in the outgoing tides of Cuba’s ocean, but Violet found that their hijink
s were just what the doctor ordered for her doldrums.
Chapter 16
On an average day, Violet did not have too many drinks. The evening before, however, had not been average, and her head was pounding. Violet moaned and plugged her ears as well as she could with one arm wrapped around her head before she rang the bell for Beatrice.
Beatrice opened the door a few minutes later and Violet was lying diagonally across her bed with her eye mask returned to its position.
“Help,” Vi moaned.
The maid squeaked. “I’ll be right back, my lady.”
Violet slipped into a doze until Beatrice returned with coffee, an awful concoction, and aspirin. Violet choked it all down and then curled onto her side until her stomach stopped roiling and her headache faded. She wasn’t sure how long it took, but once she could move without wanting to retch, she hobbled to the bath and soaked until she felt human again.
She assumed that no one else would be up before luncheon, but concern for Victor had her tiptoeing across the hall and sticking her head into his room.
Victor was sitting up, dressed, but leaning against his headboard. He had a tray on the bed near him, and he flushed at her appearance. The tension roiled between them like the storm of the previous night and neither said anything for too long.
Finally, Violet asked, “Feeling better?”
“Indeed. You, however, look like you’ve battled with death.”
“Jack made drinks that had rum, cherry, and chocolate liqueurs with cream. I don’t even know how many I had, but they were lovely.”
Victor’s mouth twitched, then he leaned forward with a serious expression. “I’m a cad.”
“Yes.” Violet sat down on his bed taking a piece of toast from his breakfast tray.
“An ass.”
“Mmm,” she agreed.
“A child dressed as a man but more poorly behaved.”
“Are you expecting me to disagree with you?” Violet let her frustration over the last few days show on her face, and Victor winced.
“You deserve better. Even when I’m behaving so terribly, I know I need to stop. I…damn it. I’m sorry, Vi. I’m so sorry.”
Violet nodded but the tension didn’t ease. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Victor watched with a tight mouth as she stood and said, “Take it easy over the next day or two. Just because you’re feeling better doesn’t mean you’re back to yourself.”
Victor choked on a frustrated laugh, then sighed as Violet left the room. Perhaps she should have been more understanding and kind. But she didn’t feel either of those things. She was angry with him, and she deserved to be angry with him.
She knew he’d likely order her a few books or offer to buy her a new dress in apology, but she could do those things for herself. What she couldn’t do was adjust to having a near-perfect brother that occasionally turned into an intolerable nitwit.
Victor followed Violet, calling her name.
Violet paused, looking back and saw Beatrice with Rouge trailing after. Violet clucked to Rouge and went down the stairs with Victor silently following. They reached the gardens and Victor walked by Violet’s side. He didn’t need to be told she hadn’t let things go yet.
He knew.
“I hate myself after I’m sick,” he told her, holding out an arm to her.
It was several steps before Violet begrudgingly placed her hand on the corner of his elbow.
“I have something for you. It was going to be for your birthday.”
Violet accepted the box. She’d seen it under his arm when she’d finally deigned to look at him. It wasn’t, however, whatever was in this velvet box that she wanted.
She stared at him, and he shifted, clearing his throat. “I think you’ll love it. I probably never would have made it to our birthday. I’ve been excited to give it to you.”
“Are you saying your guilt has robbed me of a present on a random Tuesday?” Violet couldn’t hold onto her anger, but she wasn’t quite done with him.
Victor laughed, pausing to look down at her. “Indeed it has. But will it be enough?”
No. To him she said, “I need you to make me a promise.”
Victor glanced away and Violet tugged his hand until he looked back to her.
“I am not unaware that I am awful when I don’t feel well. I’ve made the promise to be better before. I…I’m sorry, Violet. You shouldn’t have to ask for it again.”
In the quiet of her mind, Violet knew that Victor wasn’t the only one who was sometimes intolerable. And, it wasn’t illness that caused Violet to become a little wild-eyed and sharp-tongued. The cause of her behavior happened far more often than the one time a year the twins might end up ill. She was going to forgive him, as she always did, because she knew what it was like to feel you were being as mad as a hatter and unable to stop yourself.
“It’s a different promise,” Violet told Victor, convicted by her own thoughts.
“Anything,” Victor swore.
She knew he meant it, and the last of her anger about his behavior fled. It made her heart-break over this house worse. Even still, she said, “Promise me that you will never do to Kate what you do to me. When she’s your priority and I’m not around for you to lash out, don’t do this to her.”
Violet wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was scowling at the beautiful rose garden. She hated it despite it being one of the most beautiful gardens she’d had the chance to walk through. In her mind, she could see the future children that Victor had mentioned when he’d succumbed to the drunken sale. She hated the very idea of their existence in this garden.
“Are you all right?”
Violet sighed and then admitted. “I seem to have caught the doldrums again.”
“Do we need to return to Cuba?”
“I think we should save our return until you’re out of rum.”
“A day that has come far closer given the way you’re green about the gills.”
Violet laughed. She had had far too much rum the night before. Victor took a seat on one of the stone benches, and Violet tucked herself next to him. She wrapped her arm around her twin’s and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“You hate this house.” His voice was low.
She’d never be successful at lying to him now that he was feeling better. “I like the painting of the sour old woman next to Aunt Agatha.”
“Shall we put her in our next book?”
“A disapproving spectre?”
“Oooh,” Victor joked, “The Intrepid Virgin and the Disapproving Spectre.”
Violet shook her head. “It sounds a bit too much like when we visit Father and Lady Eleanor. That could be the title of our reflections upon returning home.”
Victor shook his head. “No, no. The return home story is, The Wild Twins and the Long-suffering Stepmother: A Tragedy.”
“Stepmother Countess,” Violet corrected.
Victor’s snort made her smile, and she opened the jewelry case. Her eyes widened as she stared down at the necklace.
“It’s not nearly as valuable as the last one—” Victor started.
Violet cut him off. “You know I don’t care about that.”
Slowly she lifted the long strand from the box. It didn’t match what she was wearing in the least, but she could change. She would change. Of course she would. She loved this necklace. It was a perfect, matched strand of turquoise beads as long as her pearl necklaces. It would be an unusual piece, an attention grabber, and it would look amazing with a black dress. Violet placed her finger on an earbob. These matched, but they were combined with diamonds and black jet. Next to them were several bangles, again a combination of diamonds, turquoise, and jet.
“You love it,” Victor crowed as she put the bangles on her wrists. There were a half-dozen of them. They all went together, but each was unique. “I thought you would!”
Violet didn’t argue as she slowly wound the long strand around her neck, leaving a long loop that reached to her waist a
nd a much tighter one around her neck.
“I love it.” She ran her fingers along the perfect beads. Her life would be a challenge of having to decide which of her long necklaces to wear now that Victor had gifted her with her third one.
“I’ll never do to Kate what I shouldn’t do to you,” Victor told Vi. “I promise.”
“I love that more,” she said truthfully.
Victor stood, pulling Violet to her feet. They started walking again, exploring the rose garden together. Violet paused as she noticed a gardener’s toolbox to the side of one of the hedges.
She crossed to it, glancing down. “I wouldn’t have thought that Jones would leave his tools out.”
“No doubt he expected to return before anything could happen to them.”
Violet flinched at the idea, at the concrete proof that the gardener had been caught unawares and had his life stolen. She lifted the tool chest and stumbled. It was heavier than she expected, and when she dropped it, it landed at an angle with the lid opening, spilling out its contents.
Both twins paused as they stared. Under a pair of wicked looking shears, a pile of letters spread across the grass.
“Oh-ho,” Victor said as they knelt to gather up a rather shocking number of letters.
“Jack probably needs these,” Violet said. She met her twin’s gaze and knew they were both thinking the same thing.
“Jack is protective these days. Of you more than anything.” Victor’s voice was careful.
Violet stared down at the letters and then glanced up her brother. “We should tell him…”
“We should,” Victor agreed. The smirk on his lips made Violet want to smack his shoulder.
“Later,” they said in unison. Victor rose and pulled Violet to her feet. She put the letters into the jewelry box, hiding their existence.
Victor’s laugh made Violet pause, as did the flash of guilt she felt, but she knew she wouldn’t be giving these letters to Jack until after she had a chance to read them. Wicked? Perhaps. But she’d read quickly and repent her behavior later.