The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Boxset 2

by Beth Byers

  He followed her, pacing like a jackal. Violet dug through the basket, looking for the bowl of berries and arranged them for Mrs. Jones. While Violet worked, she grabbed a knife to cut a string on one of the boxes of treats they’d put in. They had put together the strangest mix of things. The kimono and nightgown from Violet. Ginger wine and brandy that Victor must have sent down. Food from the kitchens. Chocolate from Denny, who could always be counted on to have several boxes with him. There were several novels from Kate. None of it was enough.

  “I’ll just add a chocolate, don’t you think?” Violet smiled up at Freckleton. “I found them to be quite enticing when I was unwell. Do be a dear,” Violet asked him, “and get your sister one of the sofa pillows. I think she’d do well with some support while we persuade her through some of this food.”

  Mr. Freckleton turned, crossing to the chair. The way the doors were open let Violet see him the whole way into the front room. While he was turned away, Violet slipped the small kitchen knife into the pocket of her skirt. How grateful Vi was to have had her skirt cut with sensible pockets.

  She smiled up at him as she carried the second plate to his sister, knowing he was watching her as she moved through the house. Did he know what she suspected? If he didn’t, perhaps Violet could go for help and leave Mrs. Jones. If he did, neither of them were safe. She couldn’t be sure, and the risk…no…Violet couldn’t leave Mrs. Jones. Vi needed to stall until Victor appeared, despite the fear that was increasing with each breath.

  Violet went back into the bedroom with Mr. Freckleton following. Vi tucked the sofa pillow behind the woman and handed Mrs. Jones the small plate with the berries and two truffles before turning to Mr. Freckleton.

  “I declare,” Violet said. “I’m not sure it’s wise to leave your poor sister alone. I wonder if I can persuade you to bring my brother to me? I feel certain that our new housekeeper is longing for someone to fuss over.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Jones said with the smallest shred of hope in her voice.

  “I assure you I can take care of my sister. My housekeeper will return here soon. Meredith will be more comfortable in her own bed.”

  “There is a lot to be said,” Violet told him cheerily, “for resting in someone else’s home where the sight of the dust on the windowsill or the dishes at the table don’t make you feel as though you must take care of things. No, I am persuaded she must allow us to care for her.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Freckleton snapped, all traces of friendliness fleeing, “I am more than capable.”

  “Of course you are,” Violet answered, trying to convey an easy acceptance. “I’ll sit with her until your housekeeper comes then. I believe we ladies need each other during times like these.”

  Mr. Freckleton didn’t argue, and Violet added, “There is a chill in the air today. My good sir, I think I must insist that your sister have a fire.”

  He attempted at a smile, but he failed. His cold eyes made Violet think of a reptile. As he left the bedroom, Violet crossed again to Mrs. Jones. She whispered as low as possible, “Your brother was the one who beat you?”

  Mrs. Jones didn’t answer, but her gaze was wide and terrified.

  “I understand,” Violet said significantly. “Do not worry, my dear.”

  Violet paced the room as she considered what to do. She was certain she had found the killer, and she was certain that Mrs. Jones was in danger. Possibly both Mrs. Jones and Violet were in terrible jeopardy.

  A few minutes later, Mr. Freckleton came back into the house and with him came the sound of her twin’s deep laugh.

  “Hullo, love,” Victor said. Did he see the rush of relief on her face? The way she had been pacing and had come to a sudden, gladdened stop? Violet hoped so. “The auto is being handled. I have come to walk you home.”

  Violet tried to smile, but she failed. Victor’s gaze widened as he realized that Violet was upset. She glanced at him and then beyond Victor to Mr. Freckleton. They were still in the front room, but Violet was apparent in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “I’ve been trying to persuade Mr. Freckleton to let us care for his sister. I think Mrs. Morganson and Beatrice would delight in fussing over his sister, but he tells me no.”

  “Your brother understands,” Mr. Freckleton said sharply, “that it is my place to look after my sister. I doubt he’d allow another to care for you.”

  Victor had caught the slight emphasis of Violet on Freckleton’s name, and her twin immediately understood. His mask fell into place. The spaniel he normally pretended to be cemented into position, but Violet saw the lion underneath.

  “Mrs. Jones,” Violet said. “Now is the time to say if you wish to come with my brother and me. We’d be happy to fuss over you.” Her gaze widened and Violet said, “We can help you.”

  “I assure you,” Mr. Freckleton said. “I have the capacity to care for my sister easily. She will be more comfortable with me.”

  Slowly, tremulously, Mrs. Jones said from her bed, “I think I should like to be fussed over by their servants, Joseph. Your housekeeper doesn’t come for the full day. I am quite unwell.”

  Violet would have squeezed Mrs. Jones hands for daring to speak up with such a challenge in front of her, but they were bruised.

  “Victor,” Violet said with the same weight that demanded he side with her.

  He nodded and turned to the other man. “Come now, Freckleton. We can’t understand the ways or wants of women. They’re irrational creatures you know, but we must bow to their wants.”

  Violet ignored both men as though the matter were resolved and turned back to the bed. “What would you like to bring?”

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Jones whispered, her voice but a whisper. “I…don’t know why you’re helping me, but I’m grateful.”

  Violet heard a crash and the two women’s gazes met, both of them terrified. Vi had waited for the sound of her brother saying all was well, but she knew he wouldn’t have attacked if he could avoid it. Instead, there was pure, haunting silence.

  Neither of the men were in the view of the doorway anymore, and Violet couldn’t see her brother. She was certain he wasn’t the one who had attacked. He wouldn’t have been.

  “Oh, God,” Mrs. Jones moaned.

  Violet slowly straightened. If it had been Victor doing the knocking about, he would have called out to Violet. Therefore…it was time for Violet’s lioness to come out. She met Mrs. Jones gaze and pressed a finger to her lips.

  “Everything all right?” Violet called brightly as she glanced frantically about for a larger weapon, but there was nothing except the small kitchen knife in her pocket. Violet certainly did not want to get close enough to have to fight him in close quarters.

  “Hardly,” Mr. Freckleton replied from the front room. As he spoke, he crossed to the bedroom. “Things have come to an unfortunate head. I am sorry, Lady Violet, but your interference has left us in a precarious position.”

  Violet smiled cheerily and asked, “How do you imagine this will go? The best that you can do is flee before Jack catches you. If you hurry, perhaps you will reach the border.”

  “I won’t flee. Which will require your unfortunate demise.”

  “Jack knows we’re here.”

  “Lying will do you no good.”

  “Jack not only know we’re here, he does love me. If you hurt me, you will never run fast enough or far enough.”

  “He loves your money. The moment his chance at it is gone, he’ll move on to the next spoiled fool.”

  “We went to see Melody Baker,” she said, stalling for time. “She was sleeping with your brother-in-law. She suggested that Thomas Brown might be the killer. I imagine a man who has loved your sister for a long time must know that you were the one who hurt her. Maybe he has a good idea about you being the one who killed Philip. Do you think that he won’t suggest you? He will. Jack will come here to confirm. He’ll find you, and your chance of escape will be nil.”

  Mr. Freckleton
paused.

  “Thomas will send him here,” Mrs. Jones told her brother, her voice shaking. She had pushed herself upright and swung her legs to the side of the bed but remained sitting. Violet’s mind was focused on her brother, but she couldn’t go to him when Freckleton had revealed his colors. “He remembers how you used to hurt me. He wondered the first time he saw what had happened if it was you. Even Thomas knew that Philip wouldn’t have hurt me like this.”

  “He’s a fool for wanting you after you soiled yourself. He was always too good for you,” Mr. Freckleton shouted. He lunged then, grabbing Violet and swinging her around to hold her against his chest. “This is your fault, Meredith. Your fault that Philip had to die. Your fault about the children. Your fault about these two meddlers who will be your next victims.”

  “Stop it, Joseph. What are you going to do? Kill us all?” She had pushed herself to her feet, but the movement was clearly painful. Violet could expect no help from Mrs. Jones.

  “If I do, lay it at your feet, sister.” He used the word ‘sister’ like a curse.

  Violet could hear Jack in her head, telling her how to break free. She felt the pressure of Mr. Freckleton’s hands on her body, but he didn’t take her seriously. She bet he thought he’d already won. Victor was down, Violet was captured, Mrs. Jones could do very little. He would learn how wrong he was.

  ‘Distract him,’ Violet mouthed to Mrs. Jones.

  She didn’t react, but Violet knew the woman had seen what Violet had said. “Why do you care so much about my life? We both agree. I destroyed my life. By Jove, Joseph! Why ruin yours?”

  “There’s nothing left but you,” he shouted. “Nothing. No children. No niece, no nephews, no parents. Nothing but you. The curse of my life. I’ll be damned if you throw away the last measure of our reputation.”

  “So you’re going to kill us? What does that leave you with?” Freckleton pulled Violet back, yanking her into the kitchen, and Mrs. Jones followed at her fastest hobble.

  Violet couldn’t see his face, but she could feel him loosen his grip. She lifted her arms up and out as Jack had taught her, spinning in his arms, and then kneed him right in his gentle bits. He squeaked as Violet scratched her nails down his face, digging her thumb into one eye. She jumped back just as Mrs. Jones slammed her frying pan down on her brother’s head. It had been only a step away—the benefit of a tiny house.

  “Oh my!” Mrs. Jones cried, holding her ribs. She hobbled back, leaned against the wall, and wept.

  Violet glanced towards the front room and her brother, but all she could see was his long, motionless legs. Everything in her demanded that she run to him, but she couldn’t risk Mr. Freckleton recovering while she checked on Victor. She took off her scarf and the knife out of her pocket, cutting it into quick strips, then used those strips to bind Mr. Freckleton.

  Mr. Freckleton was moaning and down, but Violet only had a minute to get him bound before he would be able to overpower her. She used the same knots that Victor and Violet had researched for one of their books. As soon as she had him tied up, Violet darted through the doorway to Victor. She placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him over to the magical sound of his groan.

  “Victor!”

  He lifted his hand, pressing it against the back of his head as he blinked rapidly. “I’m…things are a bit blurry, Vi.”

  “I’ve got you,” she said, pulling him to a sitting position.

  “Vi, where is he?”

  “I did it! I’m a woman among women. Just like you and Jack taught me. He grabbed me, I broke free, and I got him right in his goods. Then his sister got him with a frying pan. We are both women among women!”

  “Good girls,” Victor groaned, rubbing his head. “We need Jack.”

  “I’ve got the fiend tied up.” Violet pressed the knife into Victor’s hand. “Stab him if he moves. Don’t be kind.”

  She pulled him to his feet, helped him to a chair over Mr. Freckleton’s body, and then handed Mrs. Jones the frying pan again.

  Violet told the woman, “Hit him if he moves. Don’t be kind. Don’t risk my brother.”

  Mrs. Jones nodded. “Of course. Yes.”

  “I’ll be as fast as possible.” Violet ran out of the house, heading down the lane. As she did, her gaze darted, looking about for help. She caught sight of an auto coming her way and waved her hands overhead. She’d take help from whomever she could. When the vehicle stopped, she ran forward, but Jack was already stepping out.

  “Jack!”

  “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the cottage. “It’s Freckleton.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “He attacked Victor, he beat his sister, he grabbed me. We struggled and…I…well…I tied him up.”

  “What the devil!” the local constable said, rushing after them. “Well…you could knock me over with a feather. Always seemed like a good fellow to me.”

  Neither Jack nor Violet bothered to reply. The door of the cottage was thrust open and the sight of Mr. Freckleton attempting to free himself in the kitchen while Mrs. Jones wept was all Jack needed. He crossed to the killer while Violet told the constable, “I’m rather good at knots. Don’t worry.”

  “If she does say so herself,” Victor added for Violet, smirking when she shot him a look. She couldn’t help but touch his wound. “I’m fine, Vi darling. All is well.”

  All being well was a bit of an exaggeration. Violet stepped away from her brother to help Mrs. Jones back to her bed. They left the bedroom door open so they could hear Mr. Freckleton cursing as he was hauled out of the house, and then Jack came to check on the two of them.

  “You were supposed to be safe delivering a care package.” Jack’s announcement was rather unnecessary, Violet thought, but she stood up and tucked herself into his side.

  “I was safe. I was safe because you and Victor made sure that I know how to keep myself safe.”

  His lips dropped onto her head, and she felt the safest she’d ever been there in his arms.

  Chapter 21

  Violet woke several days later to the sound of her bedroom door opening. She sat slowly up, pushing back her eye mask, and watched Victor cross the floor to her bed. His eyes were wild as he said, “Kate’s mother called her home. She got the letter before she got ill and she’s only just told me.”

  Violet’s mouth twisted as she saw her brother dig his fingers into his hair, wincing at the pain from his bruised skull.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What can I do?” he demanded.

  Violet’s lips twitched at the answer, but she waited for Victor to realize.

  “Oh,” he said. He didn’t look any less distressed as he cleared his throat, rubbing the place over his heart. “What if she’s not the one?”

  Not the one! Violet had to hide another grin as she stared at her brother.

  “Does the idea of her leaving make you hurt?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “If you have to imagine the rest of your life without her…”

  “Bloody hell, Violet. I— ”

  “Then you need to do something about it before the rest of your life is spent thinking about how vastly you ruined it.”

  He nodded, almost drunkenly. His eyes were still wild, but there was an edge of conviction to them.

  “Then you know what to do.”

  * * *

  Violet dressed quickly, in a race against Kate, who Vi wanted to beat to the breakfast room. She left off all makeup and jewelry and threw on the first dress she could find. When she reached the breakfast room, only Victor and Jack had arrived. Jack had made a plate and had a cup of tea. He had clearly been reading the newspaper before Victor had joined him. Victor was pacing frantically from one end of the breakfast table to the other, muttering to himself.

  Jack lifted a questioning brow at Violet, but she smirked in reply. She wouldn’t be scuttling Victor’s play. She made herself a quic
k plate and seated herself next to Jack. Jack’s English breakfast tea was still steaming as he sipped it. His plate was loaded with breakfast, but neither Jack nor Violet were eating as they watched Victor. Her twin might have walked leagues by the time the next person entered the room, but it was only Denny.

  He examined Victor for a moment, harrumphed, and silently created himself a loaded breakfast plate.

  “I hope Lila gets here before the show begins,” Denny said. “Perhaps, my friend, you could delay until my Lila appears.”

  Victor didn’t even reply. Lila, fortunately, arrived next. She took one look at Victor, laughed, and sat down with the tea and toast Denny had already acquired for her.

  “Oh, I was worried he’d do it without us,” Lila told the others. “Looks like he won’t last for some romantic setup with candles and roses. Jack? Violet’s an author. She’s got a vivid imagination.”

  Violet started, staring at Lila, who laughed evilly. Violet glanced at Jack, but his attention was directed at Victor. She wasn’t even sure he had heard Lila. He certainly didn’t react as though he had.

  They all heard the footsteps next. Victor pushed his hands through his hair, then frantically straightened his jacket. He glanced at Violet, who winked at him. Slowly—as the door to the breakfast room opened—they all stared at poor Kate, who came in to everyone’s fixed attention.

  Kate had recovered from her illness, but she was still a bit pale. Violet had felt for some time that Kate was one of the loveliest people she had ever seen. That might, however, be because Violet knew that Kate was absolutely fabulous. Under their concerted attention, Kate slowly blushed, heightening her own beauty.

  Kate glanced around, took in the sight of Victor, who was staring at her.

  Violet pressed her lips together to keep herself from telling Victor to get on with it. The poor lad was gawking at Kate as though he’d never seen her before.

  “Kate,” he said, his voice almost pleading.

  She tried smiling at him. Her eyes were big and upset.