by Beth Byers
“We can’t all be glamorous like Rita,” Denny announced, “and I am in the doghouse.”
Violet kissed Rita’s cheek as her stepmother crossed to greet them. “You should have been timely.”
“We had a bit of trouble,” Violet told Lady Eleanor. “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself so far?”
“Not really. Your note was quite unkind.”
Violet’s fingers dug into Jack’s arm as she replied, “My journal was stolen, Lady Eleanor. Pieces of it were mixed with other things I wrote to send horrible thoughts to people who were featured.”
“A lady shouldn’t have her thoughts bandied about.”
“I agree,” Violet told Lady Eleanor simply. “I’m sorry you were drawn into this trouble.”
“You weren’t easy, you know. You and Victor. You wanted your aunt, hated me, your father was of no help. None whatsoever. I don’t know why I’m always the villain. I did my best!” The shrill voice of Lady Eleanor carried across the ballroom and Violet winced further as masked faces turned their way.
“Dance, why don’t you?”
“You know I don’t like to dance.”
“Have a drink.”
“The first I had was quite sour.” Lady Eleanor screwed up her face as she added, “Usually, you can be counted on not to be serving garbage, but I see even that point of pride in you had to be ripped away.”
Violet thought it was possible that she should have certainly lived a terrible previous life to have led her to this point. She glanced at Victor and said, “Victor will make you a drink. You know he’s so talented.”
Lady Eleanor started to scold, but to Vi’s endless shock, her stepmother pressed a handkerchief to her eye. “I just…I just…you were hardly easy.” Her stepmother walked away, carrying herself with her usual stiff decorum.
Violet thought that an actual tear might have rolled down her stepmother’s face. She looked up at Jack’s masked face, which was hard to read on the best of days and asked, “Should we be nicer to her?”
He hesitated. “I think that kindness might always be the right choice, but she’s hardly a victim, Vi.”
Violet shook her head and then adjusted her mask. “Let’s dance before my father scolds me for calling her Lady Eleanor and making her cry.”
Jack pulled Violet onto the dance floor, and the band in the corner wailed out a jazz song full of heat. Jack’s hand on her waist and the press of his chest against her body were enough to block out the world. Especially when his shoulders were broad enough to carry all her worries too.
She knew he felt as helpless as she did, entrenched in this guerrilla warfare with a fiend who didn’t balk at concepts like consequences and morals. Forget those worries, Violet, she told herself.
The latest trick of the fiend hadn’t been enough to ruin Vi’s friendships, so perhaps she had one in her scorecard of losses.
“Your dance card is mine tonight,” Jack told her. He lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her wrist just below where her spider cuff ended. She shivered in his arms and then heard her brother clear his throat.
“Are you trying to steal my partner when your own looks like a sea goddess come to life?”
“Someone ruined the alcohol. I’ve sent out to my regulars, but Vi, I don’t think they’ll be there. I also sent one of Ham’s men to my house to drain the cellars.”
“What do you mean?”
“It tastes like vinegar.”
Vi frowned. “Were the bottles switched or tampered with?”
“Vi, I know my brands,” Victor said. “Someone certainly tampered with the bottles and that’s assuming you don’t take into account the very clearly tampered stoppers. Are they all vinegar or just a few? Can we trust the ones that aren’t off that something else wasn’t put in there? Because this is the fellow who let a poisonous snake in your library.”
Violet groaned. “Send someone to the nearest pub and buy whatever they’ll sell. Pay top dollars. It just might be an evening for a hearty pint. Have you seen Beatrice?”
Victor shook his head and said, “Kate and I will see what we can do. I did see Gerald, and I’ll send him the other way. We should be able to have beer and cider here before too much time passes.”
Violet’s father approached. “Oh, I see you’ve realized. I sent my man for some of my bourbon and wine. What is happening, Vi?”
She shook her head helplessly and then found her attention pulled once again by her cousin, Algie.
“Vi! Got your letter. Kind of mean, yes?”
“It was clearly not from her,” his wife, Clara, said.
“But it was her writing. I told you I know my cousin’s writing. She’s called me a nincompoop to my face for years. I shouldn’t see why it wasn’t her this time.”
Violet groaned and Denny called merrily, “Don’t take it personally, old man. Got one of those myself.” He pulled a flask from his inside pocket and said, “The key here, old boy, is to remember that you knew Vi could be a sour old puss before you got the letter and then you just shake it off and have a nip.”
Algie laughed, seemingly unbothered, and took Denny’s flask. “Don’t mind if I do. Vi, the drinks tonight are garbage. Utter trash. I’m surprised Victor isn’t rolling over in his grave.”
“It’s an All Hallows stunt someone played on poor Vi, you idiot,” the earl told his nephew. “Victor’s gone for beer and cider.”
“The good cider?” Algie demanded.
“This is Victor we’re talking about,” the earl said. “Get to work, Jack. See what can be done.”
Jack nodded and pressed a kiss on Vi’s forehead. “Stay with Rita or Lila. Just in case this is more than vicious schoolboy pranks.”
“They’re not leaving in a rage,” Violet told Rita as she took in her guests.
“You’re the daughter of an earl, and the earl has announced loudly a good half-dozen times that when he finds the fiend playing All Hallows pranks on the cocktails, he’ll have the man strung up.”
“How did I miss that?” Violet asked, staring in shock at Rita.
“I suspect it was that dance between you and Jack. To be honest,” Rita said with a low chuckle, waving her face, “I was a bit distracted myself and I was only catching glimpses.”
Violet stared in horror, glancing up and noting that the lights were rather brighter than she’d intended. She closed her eyes and Rita laughed merrily. “She blushes!”
“She’s a prude under all that jewelry,” Lila told Rita in an aside. “She waited until her wedding day, did you know?”
Rita glanced at Vi and then back at Lila. “And you?”
“The key is understanding your natural rhythms and using the devices that are illegal and expensive.”
Rita lifted a brow and then said, “Agreed.”
Lila laughed at Rita’s subtle confession.
“Do you think Ham will care?” Rita asked with a trace of worry.
“Do you think Ham is as pure as a little lamb?” Lila countered.
“I think men have different standards for women, and he doesn’t…pressure me. Maybe he assumes—”
“Just tell him,” Violet told Rita. “But not where Denny can overhear. He is both an idiot and a loudmouth.”
“He is,” Lila said fondly. “Nincompoop is accurate for both of those fools.”
Violet followed Lila’s gaze and found Denny and Algie in the center of the dance floor, boisterously waltzing off-time.
“How do you stand it?” Rita asked Lila. “I like Denny, but he’s a bit much.”
“He makes me laugh,” Lila told Rita simply, smiling fondly.
“He makes all of us laugh, but don’t you get…tired of him?”
Lila shook her head. “I like to laugh. He does have a more serious side. It’s just the part of him that is like a night-blooming flower. It only comes out with the right circumstances, but underneath all of his ridiculousness is a man that is as loving as Jack, as thoughtful as Victor, and quite frankly, a bit softer
than Ham. We can’t be serious all the time, Rita darling.”
“Ham is a wolf,” Violet agreed. “Almost always on the hunt.”
“Or a beast,” Rita sighed. “I suppose a daft duck like Denny would be easier than Ham.”
“He would be,” Lila said. “You are missing the essential difference. I am a lazy woman and I enjoy not having to constantly fight. I want Denny to be happy. He wants me to be happy. We’d both rather make the other happy than fight. It’s peaceful. You’ll battle Ham for every inch of your freedom. The only reason Violet doesn’t have to is that Jack knows it’s useless and Vi lingers in her moods. It leaves the man an anxious mess.”
Rita met Violet’s gaze and the two of them slowly turned back to stare at Lila.
“What? Just because I like to nap doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“I haven’t told Ham yes, yet.”
Lila rolled her eyes as she snorted. “It’s just a matter of time, and don’t harass me about snorting, rolling my eyes, lifting my eyebrow or sniffing dramatically.”
Chapter 11
“We should have the nibbles put out,” Violet said. “There are trays of toffee apples, chocolates from Mariposa’s, and shrimp pots. Other usuals with some fanciful bites.”
Violet glanced at the clock, noted the time, and realized that the scavenger hunt Beatrice was supposed to start was twenty minutes past due. Where was her secretary? Violet’s concern grew when her mind flicked over the last time she’d seen the woman. It had been that morning while they went over the plan for the evening. Surely Beatrice would have checked in at some point? There had been no sign of her being at the party, no sign of that hideous mask, her maid’s slender form, or the organization that flowed in her wake.
Violet hurried through the crowd until she found Ham. “Beatrice!”
His gaze narrowed on hers, hearing the worry. “I was wondering where she was.”
“I haven’t seen her all day. Not since before breakfast,” Violet told him. “I’m so worried.”
“I’ll send one of the boys to track her down.”
“Do you think they hurt her?”
Ham paused long enough to give Violet real terror, but his head shook. “No, Vi. I don’t think we’re dealing with a killer.”
Violet nodded and then asked, “Should I start the scavenger hunt?”
“Do,” Ham said. “She’ll be all right, Vi.”
Violet wished his words could give her more comfort. They had all faced the vagaries and monstrosities of mankind too often to ever feel all that safe.
Violet joined the band on the stage and then handed over the first clue and the rules. She couldn’t do it. Or perhaps better said, she didn’t want to. She left the songstress in charge and stepped back. The crowd was thick. It didn’t seem that the bad cocktails had stopped anyone from being merry.
When the announcements were made, a rousing cheer went up despite the lack of alcohol. Violet noted the waiters with the trays starting amid the crowd and flicked over the masked faces, looking for those she knew.
Jack was there, near the wall, talking to Ham. Jack’s gaze found hers, and she could feel the warmth of it on her. Kate had found Ginny and Geoffrey, and like the saint she was, Kate was chatting with the both of them. Ginny’s spider costume was as fabulous as the girl herself. Near them was another woman with a half-mask, but Vi recognized that tell-tale smirk and the turn of the woman’s mouth. Miss Allen had found Vi’s ward.
What would happen next? Vi felt pressure starting to grow behind her eyes as a stressful headache mounted. Lila and Denny, Algie and his wife, Kate, Rita with Gerald, the earl, and Lady Eleanor. Those Vi loved most were safe at the moment. Now to find Beatrice. Violet turned to exit the stage as the crowd broke into their groups to retrieve the first clue. They were being sent on different routes through the clues to end in the garden where there would be a bonfire, and if anything of this entire evening came out all right, there would be flaming cocktails.
Victor had taught the staff they’d hired to make some American drink called The Café Brulot Diabolique. Violet had heard the description and been instantly sold on the creation. Coffee, brandy, citrus, and spices? Yes, Violet had replied when he’d told her of it. He had refused to make her one in advance, and she’d been looking forward to it before things had started to go awry.
Vi took the steps down off the makeshift stage, being handed down by one of the band members, when her gaze was caught by none other than Beatrice’s mask! Vi gasped and raced towards Beatrice, but she was looking the other way.
Vi took the side door out of the ballroom and raced down the hallway, chasing after the phantom of Beatrice who was moving quickly.
“Beatrice!” Violet called.
She looked back and then sped up.
“Beatrice!” Violet called again, even though she knew it wasn’t her secretary. “Stop! Stop you!”
This portion of the museum was empty since the scavenger hunt led the visitors through the displays. It would end at the newest exhibition in the once-closed Transylvania room where the latest acquisition of the museum was mounted with a plaque from the donator.
Violet chased the form down the backstairs towards the kitchens, but when they’d have turned into the busy epicenter where waiters were gathering with their trays, the form darted out a back door and then disappeared.
Violet studied the garden, looking for a form, but it was gone. She’d have followed further, but she hadn’t entirely lost her mind. There was a very distasteful replica of a guillotine in the back garden along with an iron maiden from torturing the poor women accused of being witches.
It was, in fact, a garden with a maze full of torture devices that had been gathered and placed among roses by the very odd owner of this establishment. Perfect for All Hallows, Violet had thought. How wrong she’d been!
Vi turned to go back inside, but her gaze was caught by two doors set into the back of the house, near the ground. Cellar doors! Was it possible that Vi had discovered the way this fiend had been accessing the party?
“Constable?” Violet called. “Constable?”
No one answered her and Vi shivered. Perhaps the constable had seen the fleeing figure and tracked them down, but she couldn’t help but think the cruelty of this prankster had been increasing. If she’d been plagued by demons, Violet wouldn’t have expected very much different from them as she was experiencing at the moment.
Violet hurried back inside and rushed into the kitchens to find someone to go check the cellars with her when she heard the shouting of the chef they’d hired.
“What is this madness?”
Violet stepped inside and found what looked to be a flock of waiters cowering away from the massive man in the center of the kitchen. “They are saying they are bad? They are not bad! They are—”
The man took one of the small bites Violet had ordered and popped it into his mouth. He spat it out and then turned on the assistant chefs. “What is this? Bad lobster? Who let the lobster spoil?”
They shook their heads.
The large man forced his way across the kitchens and stuck his hand in a small bowl, sniffing what he pulled out. “Sugar in the salt bowl! Bad fish! What manner of devilry is this?”
Violet closed her eyes.
“Sir?” The man who dared to speak squeaked a little when the massive chef rounded on him. “The toffee apples we ordered are onions.”
The chef shrieked. Violet wanted to beg an aspirin, but she didn’t trust anything from the kitchens.
“Enough,” Violet snapped and the whole of the room faced her. “You,” Violet said to the bravest of the men. “Go to whatever pubs you can find and bring in as much fish and chips as you can.”
“Fish! Cod! Chips! I am an artist,” the chef squawked. “An artist!”
“Enough,” Violet snapped again, shouldering the persona of Lady Eleanor. “We have been tricked, my good friend. Are we going to let them win?”
He gasped. His gaz
e narrowed. “I am an artist.”
“Then you can make the hearty, wholesome food your most trusted men are to acquire magical.”
“I can’t turn stone into gold, madam. Lady Violet will never hire me again. Never!”
“She will,” Violet told him. “I will. I’m Lady Vi. Now calm down and get to it. Show me what dreams can be made of beer-battered cod and chips.”
A furious gaze came into his eyes and he nodded frantically. “What you said—my most trusted men—do you think I have a cuckoo in my nest, my lady?”
“One of us does,” Violet told him flatly.
He screeched again and three men were summarily sent away. As he shouted names of men and pubs, Violet hurried out of the kitchens.
“Vi! Don’t run off like that!”
Vi found Jack and Victor staring her down.
She winced at the sick worry in their expressions before she explained. “I saw them! But I thought it was Beatrice. Once I realized, they were gone. Jack, the constable in the back garden isn’t there, and I chased the fiend outside and there are cellars doors and I think I may have found the way in.”
Jack had reached her and grabbed her by the shoulders. If he were a different man, she’d have feared a good shaking, but instead, he clutched her against his massive chest. “You’re going to drive me to my grave.”
“Let’s see what is happening in the cellars,” Victor muttered. He stepped into the kitchens, was screamed at, and retreated with a torch. They took it outside where Jack called for the constable again.
“Officer Landy? Landy, man! Landy, call out!”
No answer.
“Is he unreliable?”
“Quite the opposite,” Jack said. “We should have realized that we were giving the prankster a playing ground when we decided to carry on with the party.”
“We’re a dim as Denny,” Violet muttered as Victor pulled back the cellar doors. The fact they were unlocked was enough for Vi to groan.