by Beth Byers
Of course he had, she saw and scowled. He said nothing, so she said nothing, and the tension ratcheted up in the auto. Vi sighed and then asked, “Did she tell you anything else?”
“She came by Smith’s office and told him that her grandson was missing and the constables weren’t taking her reports seriously.”
“Why?” Vi asked. “Did you ask them why?”
“Ham did. They said that the boy had come and gone time and again, and it wasn’t her first complaint. The most they’d say for her was that this was the longest he’d been gone. The local bobby who walks that beat said that the old woman gave Jason money when he asked for it. The bobby assumed the woman was either out of money, or young Jason—who is at least 25 years old—has been having a better streak at whatever his vice is.”
Vi didn’t like that one bit. She rubbed the back of her neck. “If she’s out of money, how did she pay you?”
“She paid a retainer and agreed to a daily stipend. Ham didn’t realize she was being taken advantage of by her grandson. He thought he was dealing with some 14-year-old whose grandmother was being ignored by the local constables because she was a woman alone or some other such nonsense. There was a bit of white knight syndrome for our Ham.”
Vi laughed. “He’s been too long behind a desk for his usual cases, seeing nonsense like that and wanting to swoop in and save those others.”
Jack nodded, taking her hand and then lifting it to his mouth. She relaxed at the feel of his lips against her skin. It was enough, she thought, that they weren’t fighting.
“I didn’t think there would be trouble,” Vi said, finally addressing the tension still following them. “I truly believed that Smith didn’t think there would be trouble either. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have helped. But I would have asked more questions and been certain it was a cause I could agree with. I suspect it wasn’t.”
“I know,” Jack said. “I even agree with you. Smith truly didn’t think there would be trouble if he meant to take Beatrice. He would murder us all for her.”
Vi snorted and then laughed, leaning against Jack’s shoulder while he wove through London’s traffic. Her gaze lit on a boy with dirty cheeks and an exultant expression. A young girl with braids walking a dog. An older woman walking arm-in-arm with an older man. They both had time-worn faces and leaned into the other.
“Do you think that something is wrong with Jason Meyers? Do you think he’s in trouble?”
“From what she didn’t say, I think he’s always been in trouble, Vi.”
“It would be interesting to speak to the family about him. If he’s been taking advantage of their mother and grandmother, they probably know and have strong feelings about it.”
They had reached their house, and Vi couldn’t have cared less once the chance to hear about Rita was available. Vi darted out of the car, not waiting for Jack to open her door, and was up the steps before Jack had finished turning off the auto to follow.
“Hargreaves!” Vi called as she hurried into the house. “Any news?”
He nodded and the smile was enough to have her collapsing into a chair.
“Everyone they talked to thinks it’ll be all right, Mrs. Vi.”
Vi teared up, and she couldn’t speak. Hargreaves was at the ready with a handkerchief, and she blubbered a little before she squeaked out, “Oh, that is good news.”
“Mrs. Rita would like you to visit, Mrs. Vi.”
Vi rose immediately and then paused. “I need something to bring her. Something to show we care.”
“She knows you do, ma’am, but I did take the liberty.”
He handed her an oversized basket just as Jack opened the door to the house.
“Jack!” Vi called. “To Rita and Ham. All is well.”
Jack simply stepped to the side, opening the door for Vi to dart back through. He took the basket as she passed, and she didn’t wait for him once again. She was sitting in the passenger seat when he reached the auto and placed the basket in the back. He started the car and they made their way to the house Ham and Rita had taken for the next six months.
“Rita wants to find a house,” Vi said. “We need to find one near us or Lila.”
Jack nodded as Vi chattered about anything and everything. She just needed to see Rita and ensure that her friend was all right. Vi bounced in the seat, unable to keep still until they arrived, and then she hurried up the steps, leaving Jack behind once again.
Vi knocked on the door of the house, and when the servant they’d hired didn’t come quickly to the door, she tried the handle and let herself in.
“Vi—” Jack groaned, but Vi simply grinned wickedly and hurried inside.
Ham and Rita’s butler eyed her askance, but she skipped up the stairs and then knocked lightly on the bedroom door.
“Rita, it’s Vi,” she called.
Ham opened the door, saw Vi’s face, and said, “She’s going to be all right. The baby too, we think.”
Vi took Ham’s face between her hands, kissed each cheek, and then rushed past him.
Their gazes met and Vi was nearly knocked off her feet. Rita, who was one of the most beautiful people Vi had ever met, let alone ever seen, was pale. The pale of illness, not the normal paleness of Brits with their clouded skies and careful use of hats and parasols. Vi stepped in further and took in the dark circles under Rita’s eyes.
Rita’s bottom lip was trembling and Vi crawled onto the bed, taking her friend’s hand.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Ham said softly and disappeared.
He didn’t leave because of the tears, Vi knew, but because these ones were for her. Vi wrapped her arms around Rita’s shoulders and carefully pushed back her friend’s golden curls.
“I thought we’d lost him,” Rita whispered. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I was having fun and poking at Ham, and he was almost driven to distraction by me, and then I thought it would be a good idea to take off my shoes halfway up the stairs, and he told me not to, and I turned, one foot in my hand, and then…”
Vi noticed the bruises then. They were down Rita’s arms and her friend winced when she moved her hip.
“I’m surprised your sweet Ham didn’t have a heart attack.”
“He cried,” Rita whispered, her own tears slipping down her face. “People die falling down the stairs, Vi. He said he thought he lost me. When I started cramping, he was sure we’d lost the baby, and he just manfully buttoned up and said the blessing was that I lived. He was one whisper from saying there would be other babies, but I stopped him. I couldn’t handle it.”
Vi squeezed Rita, wishing she could take away some of those bruises. “I—”
Rita’s watery laugh stopped Vi, and her friend said, “Don’t. You don’t have to.”
“Have to what?”
“Apologize or the like. It’s all right. The doctor thinks the baby will be all right.”
In her heart of hearts, Vi doubted it, and she hated herself for doubting. It would be just like a man to see Rita, as fragile as she seemed, and lie about the baby’s prognosis in order to give Rita something to hold onto. Vi kept all of her worries to herself, of course, and hummed to Rita, who seemed to need the tears that were falling.
When Rita slipped into sleep, Vi found she couldn’t leave her friend. In fact, she wouldn’t even move. How could she when it might wake Rita, who clearly needed rest? As the time passed, Ham appeared in the doorway, and Vi placed a finger over her lips.
He was shorter than Jack and tended towards round. In fact, he had been rather portly when Vi had first met him. Somewhere along the way, he’d decided to turn that extra portliness to muscle, and he had the burly build of a man who could lift you with one hand and move you out of his way. He was losing his hair up top and had shaved it away, while his jaw was covered with a rather perfect, close-cut beard.
In a day of smooth-cheeked men with slicked back hair, tall and slim, Ham was unique. His kind eyes were fixed on his wife, and nearly as tender when the
y landed on Vi.
“She’s going to be all right.” The words felt like a vow and Vi repeated the vow to herself, hoping that it was a promise they could keep.
Vi stayed curled up with Rita until Beatrice and Kate poked into the room. The squeak as they stepped back was enough to wake Rita, and she pushed into a sitting position.
Beatrice and Kate brought chairs beside the bed and Kate leaned in and pressed a kiss to Rita’s forehead. “It’ll be all right.”
Somehow when Kate said it, the idea that everything would be all right shifted from a desperate hope to a fact. Rita shuddered a little.
“You look better,” Vi told her, and it was true. Rita had regained color in her face and the dark circles had faded. Vi gestured to the hairbrush, and she brushed Rita’s hair while they chatted. It was inane conversation about weather and clothes, but it was what Rita needed as she slowly relaxed.
Finally, it was Rita who asked, “Have Ham and Jack attempted to murder Smith yet?”
Beatrice laughed. “He was shaken, I think. Smith had been assured that the man who grabbed you and followed you had been arrested the night before. He, somehow, was released and Smith…” She trailed off.
Vi laughed all of the sudden. “Rita was very fierce.”
“Was she?” Kate asked, glancing at Beatrice and then leaning in. “Tell me all about it.”
Rita told the story, focusing on Vi’s fierceness as though it had been Vi who had pulled a pistol.
“You pulled a pistol?” Ham asked silkily from the doorway.
“You were eavesdropping?” Rita countered as silkily.
“No,” Ham said guiltily. “I was coming to see…”
Whatever lie he intended to tell her petered out and he crossed to her, cupping her cheek, his eyes searching her over. “You look better.”
“Smooth,” Kate stage-whispered. “Our hero makes a very clever switch to compliment his lady.”
Vi laughed and Rita and Beatrice joined in.
“Now that Rita is feeling better, she needs soup,” Vi declared. “More importantly, I need coffee.”
She snapped her fingers at Ham, who patted her on the head, grinned when she jerked away, and then agreed to fetch coffee. Suddenly the world felt right again.
Chapter 6
“Come with me again,” Jack suggested the next morning. “Why do they tell you things?”
“Because, Jack,” Vi said patiently, trying to hide her grin, “I’m unassuming, sweet, and empathetic. You’re big, strong, with wide shoulders and those eyes that take everything in, and you put people on their guard. Even innocent people are wondering if you can see their sins by how you look at them.”
Jack ran his hand over his face.
“Is Ham staying home because Rita had a bad night? Is she all right?”
“Ham is visiting the brother-in-law in Alfriston. I thought we’d visit Mrs. Meyers’s daughter. Women have a much better understanding of each other.”
“You just don’t want to scare her like you did poor Mrs. Meyers. You scared and offended her.”
Jack groaned and pulled Vi up, tossing her over his shoulder. He sat down and pulled her into his lap. “Well then, I suppose you’ll have to use your magic and charm them.”
Violet nudged Jack back and grinned at him, squishing his cheeks like she did to her nieces. “I suppose I can be persuaded to attempt to charm the woman, but I think you should try flirting a little.”
Jack’s laugh surprised her. “Like I did with you? I believe I stumbled through romancing you like a…a…blind and deaf man…in a cave.”
Vi’s head tilted and she softly admitted, “I didn’t notice. I was probably distracted by your pretty shoulders.”
“My shoulders are manly,” Jack told her firmly, but she squished his cheeks again and ruined his attempt at a fierce moment.
Jack pulled her hands from his cheeks and said, “I had someone run by this woman’s home, and if Mrs. Watkins is as constricted as her house, I think I’ll need you more than ever. But maybe you could look, I don’t know, less glamorous?”
Vi rolled her eyes at him, and then pressed her forehead against his.
“Darling Jack,” she started and then giggled into his neck when he turned his eyes to her. She started to bite his chin, but she couldn’t for the laughter, so she jumped up and looked in her dressing room. “Did you say not glamorous? Because, as you know, I am only glamorous.”
He laughed, and Vi turned, lifting her brow, and then picked up the dress she hadn’t intended on letting Jack see and threw it at him. He picked up the scrap of dress. “What’s this?” The dress was cheap and revealing and Jack lifted his gaze to hers. “Was this what Smith had you wear?”
“We were the distractions,” Vi told him easily. “I pretended to be drunk and giggled a lot. It was inane.”
“Inane? My Vi?”
She rolled her eyes and then held up another dress, the one she’d bought expressly to visit her ward away at school. It was dark with a collar, a tie, and a standard pleated skirt, but had a drop waist and higher hemline. She changed into it, only adding a simple cameo necklace and her wedding ring.
Mrs. Darcy Watkins looked like her mother. Her hair was pulled back into the same tight bun, though with less grey. Her mouth pursed into the same tight look of distaste, but when she sniffed, Vi had to snap her mouth closed to hide a reaction.
“Mrs. Watkins,” Jack said smoothly and respectfully, “thank you for seeing us.”
She sniffed, nodded, and gestured for them to enter her home. It was a contrast in stark opposite from her mother’s. The entire hall was painted grey with even darker grey stripes and only one dark grey rug in the center. On the walls was one grey and black pencil sketch. It wasn’t boring so much as restful, and Vi liked it better.
“What a lovely space,” Vi said softly. “Thank you for letting us into your home.”
Mrs. Watkins nodded and then gestured to the parlor. It was done in shades of blue and felt like the sea on a stormy day. Violet took the seat that was offered.
Jack cleared his throat when Mrs. Watkins took a seat across from them. “My mother hired you?” the woman asked.
“She did,” Jack told her. “She’s worried about Jason.”
The dark laugh from Mrs. Watkins was enough that Vi paused and her head tilted.
“You are not worried about Jason?”
“My mother is not as loving and understanding of Jason as she appears. Why he is her golden boy, no one knows, but I assure you, it is not the same for the rest of us.”
Violet leaned back and met the woman’s eyes. “Your nephew manipulates her?”
“He does,” Mrs. Watkins replied. “She favors him to the exclusion of all others. My son, who admittedly I adore, is worthy of that devotion.”
“Is he?” Vi didn’t mean for it to be a challenge, but what was the difference between this woman and her mother?
Mrs. Watkins, however, didn’t take offense. “I’m not her. I can see my children for what they are. To be fair, Tobias often smells. He spends too much time in front of the mirror, and he’s always been a terrible writer. He can’t make a written argument to save his life.”
“And yet—”
“And yet,” Mrs. Watkins replied easily, “he is kind. He works hard. He loves deeply. That, of course, is the real difference. Jason loves no one but himself, my mother included. Tobias loves quite a few people, myself and my mother included, though I am not certain she deserves it.” That resolute sniff followed her explanation and then she leaned back.
“Your son sounds delightful,” Vi told her honestly.
Mrs. Watkins nodded. “And how did my mother describe him? She normally uses those odd little insults. They’re somehow more painful than saying something truly vile.”
“Then why do you want to know?” Vi shot back with a frown.
“It helps me through the days when I think I should try harder with her. That I should reach out to try to help,
to talk to her about Jason, to protect her. Every time I do, it’s like I’m asking her to hurt me and my children again. So, what did she say?”
“Perhaps—” Jack started in a tone that was gentle and Vi shook her head to cut him off.
“She knows already, Jack. Whatever the word that Mrs. Meyers used to describe her children was said and Mrs. Watkins knows already.”
“What was it?”
“Tepid,” Vi told her honestly.
“She hates tepid tea. Tepid anything.” There was a wince of pain in Mrs. Watkins’s voice.
A wince of pain and of knowing. It was an old hurt, Vi thought. The poor woman couldn’t help but know that she’d never measure up to her mother’s description of what she should be. Why was it always family who caused so much pain to each other? Vi knew the pain herself. There was a big well of old hurt in her heart from her father and stepmother.
“Just because she doesn’t see them for what they are, doesn’t mean that they’re not lovely. It just means that she’s blind.”
“She knows what they are,” Mrs. Watkins said, bitterly. “They aren’t the most passionate of creatures. But they’re true and good. I would say she’s blind, but she’s not. She just doesn’t see the beauty in what they are.”
Violet winced again. “She doesn’t seem to see the truth of her Jason.”
“Oh she knows.” That bitter tone again. “Did she put her handkerchief over her eyes and wail?”
Vi bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Tell me about Jason.”
“He was always good at lying and manipulating. As a boy, he was the one who pinched the others, made them cry, and then lied through his teeth with an angelic look on his face. He was kicked out of university. He doesn’t work. He always has some scheme, some manipulation, and when those fall through, there’s always Grandmother.”
“Do you know anything about his schemes?” Jack asked carefully. “Perhaps that is why he has disappeared.”
“I would say that’s highly likely,” Mrs. Watkins replied. “The biggest dirty truth of the Meyers family is that Jason leaves on purpose. To torment Mother and to keep her in line. Everyone else has stepped back from her because time after time she chooses Jason over them.”