Silver Bells & Murder: A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery

by Beth Byers

  “It isn’t really a holiday if we have to do our own scrubbing, is it?” Lila asked. “As it is, we’ll have to squash our things back into our own trunks.”

  “It is very hard to be quite so spoiled,” Smith said.

  “Do you scrub your bath, Smith?” Lila asked seriously. “Even when Denny had to work, we never did. We had a girl in.”

  “I do not scrub any part of my rooms, Lila,” he told her quite seriously. “Nor have I cooked for years.”

  “How did you learn?” Rita asked him.

  Smith paused for a long moment and then to everyone’s shock he said, “My mother was a cook for a big house here in London.”

  The silence in the face of actual knowledge about Smith was shocking.

  “She taught you?” Rita asked.

  Smith nodded. “Until she didn’t.”

  “Right,” Ham replied, “of course.”

  “Of course,” Jack said with a careful enough tone that Vi’s interest was peaked. She knew that Jack had recognized something about Smith before. Could it be that Jack didn’t think the story was true? Or just that he was having a hard time combining what he thought he knew with what Smith had revealed?

  Vi shoved her thoughts back and said, “Well, I for one, am grateful that she taught you to cook. That being said…”

  “I’d just as soon not have to fail at making a roast chicken.”

  “I could go for Beef Wellington,” Denny said, rubbing his stomach. “Far more than omelets again.”

  “So, we’re fleeing for food?” Victor glanced among them and then at his wife.

  “Yes.” The reply was unanimous.

  “I’m fleeing, so I don’t have to clean,” he told them. “I could eat sardines for a few more days.”

  Jack and Vi had agreed to go to the farther location. They’d found snowshoes in a closet, and it took Vi quite a long time to learn how to walk in them. By the time they had traveled half the way, the very front of her legs right below her pelvis were screaming.

  Vi wondered if, perhaps, she wouldn’t do better actually exercising regularly. Her jiu jitsu lessons weren’t quite steady, and Vi really needed to turn that around. She was guessing that the slow rambles through the park with her dogs weren’t sufficient.

  Vi paused under the trees and glanced at Jack. He grinned at her and all of the tightness in his gaze that morning and the weeks previous was gone. This might have been a disaster of a lodge to stay in, but this moment was making it all worth it.

  “Jack,” Violet huffed, “I thought it would make my behind hurt the most, but right here—” She pointed to the front of her legs. “That’s the demon spot.”

  “Demon spot?” Jack laughed.

  “Careful, my lad,” Violet warned him with a wink. “You can carry me on your back like a rucksack and then I could just relax for this tromp. That’s the best plan.”

  He grinned and reached up casually to shake the snow off of a branch overhead. Vi gasped and scooped up snow, tossing it towards him. They played for a few minutes and then Jack sighed. “Shall we carry on? I can’t believe we don’t have a working telephone.”

  “Can’t you?” Violet asked. “Nothing else is going right about this trip. My worst fear is that the next house will either not have a telephone or theirs will be down as well.”

  Jack reached out and took her hand. “So we have to scour a few bathtubs and eat a sardine omelet.”

  Vi shrugged. He was right, it was hardly the worst thing. They had food to eat, second rate though it was. They had a house to stay in even if it wasn’t up to their usual standard. They had much to be grateful for, and none of them were unaware of how lucky they were. And yet, at the same time, they were desperately wishing that this could be a normal Christmas.

  “Oh! Jack!” Vi pointed and they watched a deer take a tenuous step into a meadow. As they crossed the meadow, the deer fled and the rest of the journey was in near silence, though they heard the occasional call of a bird.

  They paused when they reached the edge of another wood. This time, rather than stepping into another silent meadow, they found themselves tromping down the side of a hill towards a lovely stone farmhouse.

  There were pretty fences that divided rolling hills. In the fresh snow, the hills were empty, but Vi could easily imagine them dotted with cows and white sheep. It was so easy to imagine a running dog and children playing near the house, with a blooming garden too.

  “This looks like a place that would have quite a lovely sleigh,” Jack said, lifting Vi over a fence and following easily.

  “Or a bull in this pasture.”

  Jack laughed even though the idea was somewhat terrifying. They would certainly be trampled if they were foolish enough to not thoroughly check out the pasture before entering it. Violet pointed when the loveliest of large horses appeared along the fence line, watching them with interest.

  They wandered near the horses and Violet held out her hand. It took the horse but a moment to pop his head over and accept her adulations. The horse was one of the largest Vi had ever seen, and he seemed to be enjoying the snow as much as any child would.

  He huffed at her and then whinnied. The sound of the horse seemed to pull a farmer from the large barn and he called a hello. Violet couldn’t help but think that if she were writing this scene, the farmer would be one of those silent, disapproving types who was furious about trespassers.

  Instead, when Jack called hello, they got quite a cheery hello in return.

  “Cold, innit,” the farmer called. “Where you coming from?”

  Jack answered as Violet tried not to breathe too heavily. A part of her was giving him quite daggered glances given how he was casually tromping through the snow while her legs were screaming.

  “Why don’t you come in and warm up?” the farmer asked, gesturing towards his house, and Violet nodded almost frantically.

  The fellow introduced himself as Brodie MacAdam. He had lovely green eyes, dark black hair and quite a red nose, though Violet suspected her own nose must be as red and chapped as this fellow’s.

  “Before we come in, we have to ask if you have had scarlet fever here?”

  The farmer frowned and glanced between them. “No.”

  Violet said, “We were told the village has it.”

  The farmer glanced between them and said, “I imagine I would have heard that up at the Christmas program.”

  Violet and Jack both paused and glanced between each other and then back at the farmer. “The village doesn’t have scarlet fever?”

  He shook his head, surprised by their expression.

  “And the influenza?”

  Again the fellow shook his head. Then he paused and asked, “Where are you staying?”

  Jack answered.

  “Who told you that?”

  “The lodge caretaker told our friends,” Jack said with a frown that matched Vi’s.

  “Smitty?” Mr. MacAdam asked.

  Vi and Jack shrugged in near unison.

  “Saw him at the Christmas program,” Mr. MacAdam said.

  “He told us that the servants and him had been exposed to scarlet fever and the influenza,” Violet started. Then she muttered darkly and added, “Why wouldn’t he want us in the house? If we had been all together, we’d have left.”

  Jack nodded.

  “What now? Elsie Aird told my wife that she had been counting on working extra while the visitors were in town.”

  “We are almost dying for help,” Violet snapped. “We’ve been struggling to feed ourselves, which I know sounds ridiculous, but I fear we’re a rather useless lot.”

  “Well now, at least I can get you warmed up.”

  Violet happily sat in the tiny parlor with her hands near the fire while Mrs. MacAdam brought in tea.

  “Unless you’d prefer coffee?” she said.

  Violet could have almost teared up. “I would beg for coffee.”

  Mrs. MacAdam laughed and returned to her kitchen and brought bac
k coffee as well. Her scones were amazing and the oat cakes were so wholesome and satisfying that Violet almost whimpered with the sheer joy of something other than rather terrible omelets.

  As Violet and Jack gratefully partook of the little spread, Mr. MacAdam explained their situation. When the story was completed, she said, “Well, my lands. I think we can help some.”

  She disappeared into the kitchens and Violet looked at Mr. MacAdam for an explanation. “I suspect you’ll find she sent the boys out to run messages. We’ll get a local woman, Mrs. Anderson, to help. She and her two daughters are supporting themselves and extra work would be welcome, I should think. I fear we’re not on the telephone nor are they, so I’ll send the boys.”

  “We actually came to see if you could take us to the train station. The auto is quite snowed in.”

  “We could do that,” Mr. MacAdam said. “We’ve got a sleigh. It would take a few trips, but the train does seem to be making it through.”

  Violet fiddled with her ring and then asked Jack, “What should we do? We were planning to leave without the help and with the threat of the illness, but my goodness—”

  “I should very much like to have a word with the caretaker who seems to be up to no good. Perhaps with the owner as well.”

  “I can imagine,” Mr. MacAdam said as Mrs. MacAdam returned.

  “I expect Elsie Anderson will be there right away. Mrs. Anderson will cook for you. Her two girls are solid workers. They’ll get you sorted out. Mac will help you sort the rest of this out, won’t you, Mac?”

  He nodded and Violet huffed out in relief. “What an odd little situation.”

  She glanced at Jack and saw he wasn’t nearly as relieved as she was. The tightness in his eyes and the flexing of his jaw reflected a fury that Vi suspected wouldn’t fade as easily as the frustration as the last few days.

  “I’ll take you back in the sleigh,” Mr. MacAdam said, “when you’re ready. No need to plow through the snow again.”

  Chapter 9

  Violet curled under the blankets that were put over her and glanced around. Not having to walk back to the house was as if Father Christmas himself had looked down on Violet and said, Not this time, my dear.

  As they made their way back to the lodge, sleigh bells jangled and Violet took the chance to curl into Jack’s side. He had calmed down as the sleigh started, but Violet could feel him occasionally stiffen and then relax again.

  “What should we do?” Violet asked Jack. “If it were just you and I?”

  “I would like to box this caretaker’s ears and go home,” Jack said. “But traveling all day to go back to another empty house with a not-stocked larder is, perhaps, a mistake as well.”

  “We could send a telegram and have someone step in and help.”

  Jack nodded against her shoulder and then said, “I suspect it might be better to struggle through here than go home to our empty house. We could appear at your father’s house, but I’d rather stay here.”

  “We’re never speaking of this visit once we leave. A solemn pact of silence,” Violet announced. “How lucky are we that Mr. MacAdam and his wife are so kind and so helpful?”

  “What the devil though, Vi? Why would that man lie to Denny and the rest about illnesses and then tell the servants who wanted to work not to come? A mean-spirited prank? Because, none of this nonsense makes sense.”

  “I don’t know,” Vi admitted. “A part of me doesn't even want anyone to come. I’ve spent the last few days imagining them as walking illnesses that we needed to avoid at all costs. Even though they were never any such thing, I can’t quite shake the idea that if we’re not careful, an illness will kill those we love.”

  Jack snorted and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “It’s all around us,” he said as though it were a spooky story.

  “Coming from all sides,” Violet agreed. “Our refuge…dare we let others in?”

  “From the illness that was all lies?” Jack asked and then the house came into view. There was no sign of anyone outside though smoke was coming from the chimneys.

  “You know…” Mr. MacAdam eyed the house and then glanced behind him. “Nothing seems to be amiss with the telephone line from what I’ve seen so far. I wonder if it might be possible to identify where the problem is coming from, so we can get Bobby to fix it. It seems like things could be fixed tomorrow if we can tell him where to go to fix things.”

  “I could help you with that,” Jack suggested. “Perhaps you’d be willing to go with me to see if those ladies who might help us need a ride here?”

  “Be happy to,” Mr. MacAdam said.

  Jack hopped out of the sleigh and lifted Vi down. She squeezed his hand and went inside while he went off to be useful. She found the signs of Ham and Rita having returned. Their coats and wet boots were near the front door, but they’d moved on. Violet left her own outerwear hanging in the front closet and left her boots to dry. She considered the hall and the library, but she decided to run up the stairs to change her clothes and acquire dry shoes.

  It took her a few minutes to change and then she started poking her head in bedroom doors. They were all empty. Vi frowned and then returned to the library. She fully expected to find someone in there, but again—the room was empty.

  Violet would have expected her friends were outside, but there hadn’t been a sight or sound of them when she’d come inside.

  “Hullo!” Vi called.

  “Oh heavens, Vi!” Rita’s voice was sick with alarm and her head popped out of a door at the end of the hall near the kitchens. “Don’t come this way.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Violet asked. “Jack and I have uncovered the oddest little mystery.”

  Smith’s bark of laughter shocked her and she moved towards her friends.

  “Vi!” Victor said, stepping into the hall. “Don’t.”

  She examined her twin. His eyes were weighty with the unknown, but she knew those eyes, she knew that concern, and he really only tried to protect her from so much.

  “What is it?” she asked, but she knew. She could guess, couldn’t she? The dark bark of laughter about a mystery, Rita telling Violet not to come, those dark eyes of her brother, full of weight and horror. “Someone isn’t—”

  “Dead?” Denny asked lazily. “Someone is—”

  “But how?” Violet asked. Before anyone could answer, she added, “Who?” A mere smidgeon of a breath later, “That girl?”

  Kate shook her head. “Not that girl. I’ve never seen this person before.”

  Violet paused, weighing her options. She didn’t know if there was something about being a writer that lent itself to nightmares, but they cropped up far too often when she was faced with death. Vi took a step back and Victor nodded at her. Better to know your weaknesses.

  “I think we’ll have to tromp through to the village. The snow is so deep for the roads, and no one seems to have plowed here.”

  Vi took a deep breath in and then said, “Jack is with the farmer we visited. They’re looking at the telephone lines to get them fixed, but Mr. MacAdam has a sleigh.”

  “A sleigh?” Denny asked. “Maybe we could leave.”

  “The chances of that are over, my lad,” Lila said. “We might not know who this fellow is, but they’re going to think we killed him.”

  Stillness flowed over those who hadn’t figured that out yet.

  “We’re the suspects,” Denny said with a high-pitched nervous giggle. “We could be in trouble here.”

  “Where was everyone?” Vi asked.

  “That really depends upon when this fellow died, doesn’t it?” Smith asked. “He’s not warm.”

  Vi paused. “But…”

  Smith nodded. “We were almost certainly in the house when this fellow was killed. He’s too cold to have been done while we were all up and separated.”

  “What does that mean?” Beatrice asked.

  “It means that this fellow came into the house while we were sleeping and someone followe
d him in and murdered him in a way that makes us all look guilty.”

  Beatrice eyed Smith and then said, “They’ll think it was you, Smith. How good are your papers?”

  “They’re excellent,” Smith said, but the fear didn’t fade from Beatrice’s eyes. In fact, it moved from Beatrice and spread around the room.

  They eyed each other in fear. It was inevitable for them to wonder, What if? What if one of them had killed this man? What if one of the people they treated as family over their own birth families had murdered a man while they were on their joint holiday and then left it to chance whether they would get off.

  “No.”

  It didn’t just come from Vi. To her surprise it came from Denny and from Ham too. Beatrice had frozen in horror and Victor had already started to shift to his protective mode. Lines and divisions had started to form among them, but Violet couldn’t stomach that.

  “It wasn’t Smith,” Ham added, shaking his head. The surprise on Smith’s face was overshadowed by the fierce, “Too right!” from Beatrice.

  “Wasn’t it?” Smith asked low and then laughed somewhat bitterly. “Who else would it be?”

  “No!” Beatrice hissed. It was order, plea, and a whimper all in one. “You stop that.”

  “Beatrice, we have to—” Smith started. The divisions were forming, Vi thought, and that needed to be stopped right away.

  “No,” Violet repeated. “No, we aren’t doing this. We aren’t letting the killer do this to us.”

  “This?” Smith demanded.

  “We aren’t drawing lines and deciding which among us did this. None of us did, and if we turn on each other, what we have here will be ruined even if the real killer is found.”

  “It’s the smart thing to do, Vi. For you,” Smith said. There was a devil-may-care challenge in his gaze.

  She had to grit her teeth before she crossed to him, grabbing him by the lapels. “Did you lie about the illness in the village?”

  He frowned and shook his head. None of the others had heard yet that the tales of spreading illnesses had been false, and the shock ricocheted among them.