by Beth Byers
He was only successful when Ham snapped, “Take hold of the auto door, man. These trunks aren’t taking themselves in.”
Vi watched as Denny crawled through the snow to the auto door and pulled himself up, losing traction halfway through but keeping hold of the door, so his legs were sliding while he held onto the door for life and limb. Finally, painfully, Denny placed one foot and it remained in place. A moment later, he gingerly attempted putting his weight on the second foot. When it didn’t fly away, he slowly un-grasped his hands from the auto door and then grinned in triumph when he didn’t fall.
“Denny,” Violet asked slowly and carefully. “Are you wearing evening shoes?”
“Forgot my boots,” he chirped, “can’t feel my toes. Praying hot toddies are ahead. Go inside already, so I can heroically and solely drag your books inside. How many did you bring? I feel certain you brought options. Everyone else just packs one or two, Vi.”
Vi didn’t bother to answer, turning back to Jack. He grinned at her and pressed a kiss on her nose. With typical gentlemanly honor, he walked her to the unmanned door. Both of them paused in surprise when the reality of no servants struck them. Whoever normally provided the role of butler for visitors wasn’t there along with the rest of them.
“Oh,” Vi said as she pushed the door open and found a cold and dim front hall. She glanced back at Jack and told him, “Tread carefully. Denny might break all of your legs if you’re not watching yourselves.”
She shut the door behind her and glanced around. The hall had sconces on the walls, but they were dusty and the light seemed to come through with trepidation. The floors were white and black checkered tile and didn’t match the aesthetic of the rest of the house at all. Vi carefully wiped her feet and glanced to the left. In her house, the parlor was there, and this house had a parlor as well. But it was covered in sheets and the curtains were drawn tightly against the cold. To the right, a matching parlor was just as covered.
“Hullo,” Vi called. “Hullo, hullo!”
“In here,” Rita called from down the hall. The walls were a little dingy, Vi thought, with a hefty wince. “I’ve got coffee. Straight ahead.”
Suddenly nothing mattered quite more than that cup of coffee and Vi hurried forward, coat, hat, boots, and all. She moved past a few closed doors and found the opened door where someone had removed the sheets from the furniture, lit a fire, and situated the space.
They’d chosen the library and Vi approved the choice immediately. The rough edges lent a charm that Vi had hoped the entirety of the house would possess. Smith and Beatrice were curled into an oversized chair near the fireplace while Lila was lying on a sofa that clearly didn’t match the rest of the furniture. Her daughter, Lily, was sleeping on her chest.
Violet’s brother leaned back in another oversized chair with his sleeping twins on either side of him. His gaze matched her own, and it was full of worry, resigned amusement for their circumstances, and happiness to see her.
“Well,” Vi said as though all was fine, “I was promised coffee.”
Rita gestured to the corner where the desk had been set up with sandwiches and coffee. Vi’s mouth watered as she crossed to it even though she could see that the bread looked a little stale. She took a sandwich, poured herself a coffee, and found a chair.
“What in the world?” Vi asked. “No servants at all?”
“They got scarlet fever,” Victor answered. “The usual housemaid did. She came in sick a few days before we got here, and the fellow who looks after this place sent her home. Only he’s sick too. Says it’s the influenza, but—that’s not better, is it? The usual butler and cook who work here say a week long job isn’t worth the risk.”
“The best that can be said,” Rita answered, matching Victor’s frustration, “is that they stocked the house with food.”
“Lovely,” Vi replied. If they’d wanted to rough it over the holidays, they’d have headed somewhere far warmer. Violet sighed and then drained her coffee. It wasn’t even lukewarm and didn’t have the strength of Turkish coffee, but at least it gave her the idea of what she needed. Someone had possibly missed on the proportions and Vi turned and raised a brow at her brother.
He knew what she meant and pointed towards Rita who raised her hand. “It was me. I ruined the coffee.”
“Bless you,” Vi said with a laugh and then ate half the sandwich before she had tasted a bite. It was only then that she realized there was far too much mustard and the bread was, in fact, stale. Vi scrunched her nose and considered whether she should make Jack something else.
It took Ham and Jack a good twenty minutes to appear and when they did, Jack left off his large coat and had soot on his cheek.
“Darling,” Vi said, tapping her cheek.
He didn’t even bother to wipe it off as he plopped onto the chair next to her and pushed out his feet. She reached over to take his hand, and it was chilled. Rather than holding it, she rubbed her warm hands over it until it didn’t feel quite so chilly. Then she moved onto his other hand.
“Our fireplace chimney is clogged.” Victor seemed to move past idly amused, Vi thought, to silently frustrated. “We’re bunking down in quite a small room at the end of the stairs now, but the chimney does seem to be functioning.”
“Cozy,” Vi said brightly, entirely unconcerned. She little cared if they had a large room or a small one in this house. “Surely we’re going to find a way home the moment the snow lets up?”
“More snow?” Lila demanded in a hoarse whisper. “There’s no way out.”
“Perhaps,” Rita muttered, “if we had horses, we could sled down to the next village and get onto the train there.”
Ham snorted. “We’d get halfway there, the horses would bolt, and we’d be tromping through the wood with a drunk and shoeless Denny.”
“How’s Kate?” Vi asked her brother.
“Fever, cold. She’s all right. Nanny says it’s not scarlet fever. She’s put Kate and the baby in one of the better rooms and we all evicted. Nanny also says the little ones aren’t as much at risk, but—”
Not as much wasn’t none at all, was it? Vi closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. She could see, feel really, the weight of emotions that Victor was holding back. It wasn’t so much that he was readable, but she could see him calculating. What if it was scarlet fever? What if it was something worse? What was that tickle at the back of his throat? What if both he and Kate had it? What if he was giving whatever it was to the girls while little Lionel Peter was exposed as well?
She could see the mounting concern. What if he lost one of them? Vivi started to wake and Violet reached for her niece, squeezing her twin’s shoulder as she did so.
“Va! Va!”
“Hullo little love,” Violet said as Vivi curled back into Violet’s neck. Her little niece mumbled and slipped back into sleep, holding Vi’s neck tightly.
“What should we do?” Victor asked.
Violet glanced at Jack, whose gaze was on Vivi.
“We do what we need to do to keep the little ones safe. Kate needs some time to recover. We’ll rough it out, wait until the weather clears, and arrange for some autos from outside this village.”
Victor huffed in relief and glanced at the others to ensure they were in agreement.
“Not risking Lily for better food,” Denny agreed. “We’re with you, mate. Kate will get better, we’ll make sure the littles don’t get the same thing, and then we’re off back to home.”
Smith sniffed and then asked, “What’s so bad about this? Granted, the lack of a good restaurant and a good chef does make things a bit sideways, but surely we can scrape through? Beatrice, darling, you do know how to cook?”
“No, as I have said about ten times already.” She had a look on her face that promised retribution.
Smith’s wicked grin had Violet giggling silently into Vivi’s hair.
“Here now, as our peasant friend,” Denny said lazily, “surely you can cook.”
“O
h,” Smith agreed, “I can. But it’s so much more fun to watch you lot suffer.”
Chapter 3
“I’m sorry,” Vi started, staring in horror. “What is this?”
“An antique,” Rita replied. “Someone’s Victorian grandmother was quite excited about this beast.”
Violet tapped the top of it. It rang. Cast iron, almost bigger than an auto, with inexplicable rings, and were those even ovens? This was no modern gas range. It didn’t have the regulator, it had nothing to help Vi puzzle it out. “We might die trying to use it.”
“Smith knew how to light it,” Rita said dryly. “I suspect he might actually be able to cook.”
“I never would have imagined it.”
“Given the way Beatrice is eyeing him sideways, he’ll be lucky if she doesn’t make herself a widow.”
Violet couldn’t help but laugh. She had considered him angel-beautiful since she’d first met him. Angel-beautiful with devil’s eyes, and it seemed a devil’s delight of teasing his lady. Violet would be no more surprised than the rest if Smith really could put together some multi-course dinner. She would also not be surprised if Smith had used an ancient thing like this to burn someone’s house down.
Vi considered trying to light the oven on her own and then shrugged and stepped into the hall, bellowing for Smith. He appeared as smooth and pretty as ever without the struggle the rest of them were experiencing. Vi scowled at him and he scowled back, but that glint was in his gaze, and she knew he was enjoying her creased dress.
“What?” she demanded.
“Don’t know how to iron either?”
Her gaze narrowed on him. She did know how to iron. It had just been so long, and she was hardly familiar with this house. And she didn’t want to iron.
“I didn’t have a personal maid until Beatrice.” It was a covert way of saying she’d ironed here and there. Most of the time, when she and Victor had a small set of rooms they shared, there was a girl who came in twice weekly.
“You don’t have one now,” he lodged back.
“An issue that may well need to be remedied before we risk ourselves on another venture. If any of us bothered with personal servants, we might well have someone who could cook among us.”
“Make sure to hire one who knows how to make coffee,” he said with too much humor.
“Obviously,” she replied dryly. She didn’t bother to say she’d be perfecting this skillset the moment they returned home.
He winked at her a moment later and Vi found herself half-tempted to hug him. He’d become another brother to her, but she still wasn’t sure of him, which was rather an odd feeling.
“Please sir,” she said with a daggered look in her gaze that belied her light-hearted tone, “light the oven.”
“Do you know how to make coffee?”
She winced. “Perhaps.”
“Been a while?”
She nodded.
He lifted a brow and then admitted, “I am rather desperate myself. I might be willing to help.”
“I might be willing to love you forever for such a gift,” Vi said.
With Beatrice, they made both tea and coffee and then to Vi’s surprise, Smith helped her make bacon, sausages, and eggs. It was a rather simple meal, but they found plum preserves, tinned beans, green-house tomatoes, and even a crate of oranges and grapefruit. Perhaps their fruit wasn’t cut quite as well as those magicians who usually did their cooking. Perhaps also, Vi, Smith, and Beatrice only sliced, salted, and peppered the tomatoes, but in the end they had a full meal prepared for everyone.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever been quite so proud of myself,” Violet told Smith and Rita when they had finished cooking.
“Perhaps if I’d shot a bird and roasted it over the fire,” Rita admitted. “But I never actually prepared the beast myself, you know. Just went out and then let the fellows we’d brought along do the real work.”
“But you lit an astounding fire,” Violet reminded Rita.
“What an odd little trip,” Rita laughed. Her blond curls were hidden under a turban, and Violet guessed that looking after her curls had fallen second to lighting the burner for the hot water, the house fires, and a general tidying up that they’d worked on together the previous night.
Vi and Jack had slept with baby Vivi and Agatha so Victor could sleep all right, and that morning, Violet had made up trays for her brother and his wife. Whatever Kate had caught had moved on to her twin, and he was nearly as foul as she was when ill.
“Need help?” Smith asked.
Vi started to shake her head and then admitted, “I rather think I do.”
He nodded and took the second, larger tray, and the three of them tromped food up the stairs. They handed the larger tray over to nanny, asked after Kate and the baby, and then turned to the room Victor was using next door.
Vi knocked and her brother’s croak turned her away. She threw the door open and crossed to him, bringing the food.
“Leave me be,” he ordered.
She ignored him. Victor shot her a dark look, but he wasn’t truly fighting her off, so she didn’t take him too seriously. She dropped two aspirin in his hand and gave him coffee. When he finished the first cup, she refilled it and then said, “There’s fruit. Eat that at least.”
“Fruit.” He cleared his throat, placed a hand on the base of his neck, and winced. His eyes were bloodshot, and she checked him for a fever. He was mercifully free of it, so she said, “A cold is no reason not to eat.”
“A cold!” he croaked.
“Spoiled,” Smith said and Victor started. He hadn’t realized she’d been followed in by Smith. “These upper class fellows are pure children.”
Vi would have considered elbowing Smith, but instead she said, “You have to get better quickly, brother. Eat, sleep, and be prepared for the girls to come back your way when I get this.”
Victor started to snap at her, but it seemed being a father was enough to stop him from being quite so snotty.
“How’s Kate?”
“Ill,” Violet told him. “But Nanny has her and the baby. Lila watched all the girls while we cooked. It’s a regular team effort around here. Ham and Denny even cut the wood.”
“Cut the wood?” Victor gasped. He coughed a moment later and then coughed deeply. The illness was dipping into his lungs, and Vi was suddenly afraid that he was going to end up with pneumonia. Did they even have a telephone? Were the lines still up in the snow? If so, they’d need to discover the doctor and hope the fellow wasn’t ill himself and carrying scarlet fever. Violet bit back the worry and told herself to stop borrowing trouble.
“It’s going to be cold food for us,” Smith told her.
Violet sighed and then said, “At least we got the hottest coffee.”
He gave her that wicked grin of his, and Vi couldn’t help but laugh.
“Something a bit odd this morning,” Denny told them as he shoved some of the food onto his plate. His eyes were shining, and he seemed to be unaffected by a full day of drinking.
“Odd?” Jack asked. He sounded as though he didn’t much care. Before Denny even answered, Jack was asking after Kate and Victor. Thankfully Lila’s nanny was available to watch the girls while they ate, and she had offered to make lunch.
Violet took a piece of bacon and nibbled a bite, her gaze turning back to Denny as she asked, “Odd?”
“Footprints in the snow.”
“What was it?” Beatrice asked. “Some sort of predator to ring the house and pick us off?”
“Pretty sure they belonged to a person,” Denny said. “One of you out tromping through the snow?”
“One of us?” Ham asked. He glanced at Jack who shook his head. Together they looked at Smith. He shook his head.
“Where were the footprints?”
“Near the wood,” Denny said. “Made me feel a bit wonky, to be honest, so I walked over and checked them out. I’d have thought they belonged to some local, but the snow is rather too deep for jaun
ting about.”
“Maybe there’s a cabin in the wood,” Lila said lazily. She yawned and then admitted, “Three little ones is too many, Denny.”
“I say we stop with Lily,” he told her seriously. “We’ve achieved perfection already, darling. A devil is the only possible result. Something like me. Otherwise the universe would be unbalanced.”
“Is no one going to ask Beatrice what she was doing?” Smith demanded. “While I was slaving over the stove, what were you up to?”
She rolled her eyes at him and said, “I straightened the library.”
“You aren’t the servant,” he told her.
“And you and Vi aren’t the cooks. Lila isn’t the nanny, Denny isn’t the woodsman, and Ham and Jack aren’t the scouts trying to decide if we can escape in the one auto at our disposal.”
“Can we?” Smith asked.
Jack replied, “We could go for another auto or two and then come back. I don’t see how else we’d get away without more autos.”
“Next time we’ll have to motor up to Scotland rather than leaving our autos behind.”
“Surely we won’t end up in this position again,” Vi said with a sigh. “Next time, Victor and I will just tell our stepmother no.”
“Vi, you’ve been torturing her for years,” Denny snorted. “She still gets her little vengeances.”
Violet smirked. “Do you remember when we left toads in her bed?”
“Wasn’t there for that one, Vi. But I do remember when you climbed up the side of the old homestead and doctored her secret stash of wine.”
“Sherry,” Vi said, laughing into her hand. “Oh my, we did the earl’s too. Lionel wrote to me that Father and Lady Eleanor didn’t leave their bedrooms for a few days and came out at least a stone lighter.”
“We were horrible children. I think I dumped a whole bottle of laxative into each.” She couldn’t help but giggle and then gasped in surprise at the sound of a pop. Rita grinned and then passed around a tray of champagne flutes. A moment later there was another pop. They passed around the champagne until they all had a glass. Orange juice would have been nice to go with it, but those who’d prepared breakfast hadn’t wanted to squeeze all of those oranges.