Mystery at the Edge of Madness
Page 14
She hadn’t gone to sleep that night her parents had died. It had been late for her, but she had been a child, and they were having a large party. She’d been sent off to bed, but the band had been playing in the gardens and she lay awake, listening.
She had finally left her tower room, wound down the stairs and then slipped out that same side door. She would hear the band better from the little walled garden. As she crossed onto the landing opening to the garden, she’d been distracted by the sight of the full moon, so she hadn’t looked down at the garden. She hadn’t seen them until she’d reached the second to last steps, as she did at that very moment.
Her eyes clouded with memories, and her heart was in her throat. That moment, so many years ago, she’d seen Father first. He was laying on his stomach over something white. She hadn’t realized at first that the white had been the flowing dress Mother wore to the party. Severine had thought that it had been a curtain. When she realized the object had more substance, she’d thought perhaps it had been a bird. A swan from the pond perhaps.
She hadn’t wanted to see what her eyes had been telling her. That wasn’t a pool of blood, it was paint. That wasn’t Mama. It was a swan. Father wasn’t dead, he’d just tripped.
“Papa!” she had cried, low and weak. “Papa!”
He hadn’t turned. It was then that she’d known. In the very act of not responding, she’d known he was dead. He had always turned when she cried out. His eyes had always crinkled at seeing her. Mother might have ignored Severine or told her to go way, but not Father.
Severine knelt near the fountain and gazed down at the stone. Had it been scrubbed clean or had time and storms taken care of the blood?
Somehow, here, where they’d died, she finally didn’t feel their spirits. That feeling of being haunted was gone and she swallowed thickly. She wanted to call, Come back. Don’t leave me. But she didn’t. She didn’t know what happened after death, but she knew her father would come to her if he could. And she knew that he deserved to be released. Maybe forgiven. She closed her eyes and shifted from kneeling, sitting more comfortably. The tears came fast and hard and she mourned for the father who had loved her and—perhaps—no one else.
She mourned for the mother who had loved only herself. She mourned for what had been lost. Their lives. Her life, growing under their care. Possibly something more positive as she aged. The good times that would never happen and the innocence that would never be recovered.
When she was done crying, Severine slowly stood and wiped her eyes. She said goodbye, though she knew their spirits were not in that little garden. When she turned, she found that she hadn’t been alone after all.
Grandmère had watched and said nothing.
The two women studied each other and neither spoke. After long minutes that felt endless, Grandmère said, “I would like to ask you to let Andre go.”
Severine only wished she were surprised.
“I have spoken to the servants, and they have agreed that they saw nothing and heard nothing. I have spoken to Alphonse, who says it will be better for all of us if we keep the scandal to a minimum. I have spoken to Mr. Oliver, Mr. Thorne, and Mr. Brand, who have stated that they will leave the decision to you.”
Severine wished that she didn’t feel quite so tired as she stared at Grandmère. A part of her wanted to demand that Grandmère get out of the house, but she couldn’t do it. A part of her wanted to scream at Grandmère, but emotional outbursts simply filled Grandmère with distaste.
“Do you know who killed Mother and Father?”
Grandmère shook her head once.
“I will trade you for Andre’s freedom,” Severine told Grandmère.
Her grandmother’s gaze narrowed and she demanded, “What do you want?”
“Answers,” Severine replied. “Answers to any questions I have about Mother and Father and their lives.”
Grandmère hesitated.
Severine added, “If I find out you lie after the fact, in any way, I’ll cut off your allowance along with Andre’s.”
Grandmère nodded and then snapped, “Later. Are we in agreement?”
“Fine.”
Grandmère smiled slowly and said, “That’s good. I let him out this morning, and he’s taken your automobile.”
Severine looked away from Grandmère, wishing that her revelation had been a surprise. She passed by the old woman without word and climbed the steps to the master wing.
“He’s gone,” Mr. Brand said in irritation. “And you can’t trust anything that your grandmother says.”
“What does it matter?” Severine asked with exhaustion. “She’d already let him go.”
“He’ll come after you later,” Mr. Brand snapped. “It matters.”
“You can remove him as a possible heir for me, can’t you?”
“Yes, I think so,” Mr. Brand replied. “But I’d rather see him in jail for trying to murder you, your grandmother, myself, and Lisette.”
“Yes, I know,” Severine added tiredly. She wanted nothing more than to return to her nunnery and curl up by the fire with a slice of Sister Sophie’s warm bread, a cupSister Bernadette’s tea, and some of Mother Superior’s words of wisdom. Severine pushed away the homesickness. “He’s not very bright. Hire someone to follow him. Let’s find out who he spends his time with and what he does.”
Mr. Brand’s gaze widened and he leaned back. “You are rather more like Lukas than I ever expected.”
“I wish that were a compliment,” Severine told him as Grayson, Oliver, and Florette entered her father’s office.
“In these circumstances, it is,” Mr. Brand told her. “You have all of his wit and an inexplicable well of morals that he would have been well-served by.”
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Florette told Severine. “I’ll do what I can to counter Grandmère’s lies.”
“Don’t.”
“But she’ll try to make you notorious in society.”
“Notoriety will serve me well for my purposes,” Severine told her cousin without explaining why. Her gaze moved to Grayson and Oliver. “I have not forgotten my promise.”
Oliver thanked her and then distracted Florette from the room while Grayson took a seat. “You haven’t forgotten what we found while we were trying to find the others?”
Severine shook her head. The second secret office in the passageways? No, she hoped it would help the next stage of her investigation. She was no closer to finding the man or woman who killed her parents. She had failed at the purpose of this trip and she told Mr. Brand and Mr. Thorne so.
Grayson shook his head. “That murder was investigated by professionals, and they found nothing. This isn’t a crime you’ll uncover with one visit to their house. Especially as it seems that there is another player who is working hard to keep you from finding out things that your father knew.”
“I agree,” Mr. Brand replied. “We’ve uncovered that whoever did this hooked your brother like a fish and reeled him in. Now we know of that fellow’s existence. We have a fresh trail to follow and we’ve pinned down the nature of your grandmother and brother. It’s not the worst beginning.”
Severine’s hand lightly touched her shoulder where she’d been shot. She laughed bitterly. “It’s an inauspicious beginning and that’s the best that can be said of it.”
“But it won’t be the last that’s said of it,” Mr. Brand countered. “This is just the beginning.”
THE END
Hello friends! Thank you for giving this new series a chance. I so hope you enjoyed Severine’s beginning, the introduction of Brand, Thorne, Oliver, Lisette, and others. A review for this book would be so very helpful. If you’d be willing, please click here to share our thoughts.
As time goes by, the mystery of Severine’s past and her parents death will be uncovered. In the process, we’ll also discover just why Thorne and Oliver are in Louisiana rather than England and what is driving their own investigation. Along with that, we will uncover a
little more about Lisette and her family. I hope you’re as excited as I am to dive into these bigger mysteries.
The sequel to this book is now available for preorder.
October 1925
Severine DuNoir was twelve when she discovered the bodies of her parents, and she's sworn to find their killer. As she unravels their lives, her sole focus is to reveal what happened to her parents.
Only things have changed, and she now needs to uncover who is manipulating her brother and why. Is that person the same who murdered her parents? Coming home has unveiled a more sinister plot than she could have imagined. It’s clear from her first night that something is afoot. The motives are many and the target is clear: Severine herself.
Order your copy here.
Also by Beth Byers
The Violet Carlyle Cozy Historical Mysteries
Murder & the Heir
Murder at Kennington House
Murder at the Folly
A Merry Little Murder
New Year’s Madness: A Short Story Anthology
Valentine’s Madness: A Short Story Anthology
Murder Among the Roses
Murder in the Shallows
Gin & Murder
Obsidian Murder
Murder at the Ladies Club
Weddings Vows & Murder
A Jazzy Little Murder
Murder by Chocolate
A Friendly Little Murder
Murder by the Sea
Murder On All Hallows
Murder in the Shadows
A Jolly Little Murder
Christmas Madness: A Short Story Anthology
Hijinks & Murder
Love & Murder
A Zestful Little Murder
A Murder Most Odd
Nearly A Murder
A Treasured Little Murder
A Cozy Little Murder
Masked Murderer
The Mysteries of Severine DuNoir
The Mystery at the Edge of Madness
The Mysterious Point of Deceit
Mystery in the Darkest Shadow
The Wicked Fringe of Mystery
The Poison Ink Mysteries
Death By the Book
Death Witnessed
Death by Blackmail
Death Misconstrued
Deathly Ever After
Death in the Mirror
A Merry Little Death
Death Between the Pages
Death in the Beginning
A Lonely Little Death
The 2nd Chance Diner Mysteries
(This series is complete.)
Spaghetti, Meatballs, & Murder
Cookies & Catastrophe
Poison & Pie
Double Mocha Murder
Cinnamon Rolls & Cyanide
Tea & Temptation
Donuts & Danger
Scones & Scandal
Lemonade & Loathing
Wedding Cake & Woe
Honeymoons & Honeydew
The Pumpkin Problem
The Hettie & Ro Adventures
cowritten with Bettie Jane
(This series is complete.)
Philanderer Gone
Adventurer Gone
Holiday Gone
Aeronaut Gone
Copyright © 2020 by Amanda A. Allen, Beth Byers
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.