by Beth Byers
“I think, of the five of us, that Agatha might trust Victor and myself with the money without restriction.”
“Why you?”
Violet spent a few minutes describing how Agatha had tried to teach all of them about investing and growing a fortune. About how Violet read and responded to reports that Agatha sent. “Looking back, Aunt Agatha has been training us since we were children. If she really built her fortune for us, for the five of us, she’s been trying to prepare us to protect it.”
“And you and Victor learned when the others didn’t?”
“Victor and I don’t talk about money with our family. But we’ve been investing according to Aunt Agatha’s suggestions as long as we’ve been able to. We’ve increased our own allowance because of it.”
“Have you now?” Jack looked suddenly intrigued.
“We aren’t on track to be as rich as Agatha. Not at any point. We enjoy spending money too much. But, we’re doing fine all the same. Everyone is so concerned about when Victor might have to support a wife, but give us five more years of steady increases, and he will be able to have a family without ever needing to punch the workplace clock.”
“You realize that this provides a motive. If you had realized that such a fortune could be yours, well…money has turned more than one head.”
“I realize that,” Violet said simply. “I can’t make you believe that we’re happy with our lives as they are. And I realize that you can hear me speak for Victor and assume I don’t know what I’m talking about, but that’s not the case. You’ll find the would-be killer, right? You’ll save Aunt Agatha, and then—perhaps—you can believe me.”
“It isn’t that I wouldn’t like to believe you now,” Jack said gently, almost fervently. He stood, but he didn’t step closer. She could feel his gaze like a brand on her skin, on her face. He was making her feel small again, only somehow safer than she’d ever been. “I won’t risk your aunt on what I’d like to believe. Unfortunately, money provides rather a good motive for all of you to kill her. There’s no evidence over who could have made any of the attempts. They were failures, but well thought out beyond failing. Each of you are smart enough to have done each of them. If she split her money, all of you would benefit from one murderous action.”
“I don’t consider losing my aunt as benefiting, but I see what you mean.”
Jack nodded and offered Violet his arm. They left the orangery and made their way back to the main part of the house. The sound of shouting stopped them both.
“So you’ll just leave them to suffer?”
The screaming was coming from the other side of Aunt Agatha’s office door. Her reply was far lower, and they couldn’t hear it, but Violet whispered to Jack, “That’s Uncle Kingsley.”
The next round of shouting didn’t make it through the thick doors beyond the sound of fury.
“He might be asking for help again.”
Violet nodded and winced as Uncle Kingsley’s shouting escalated. “You are an accident of fate. Nothing more. Would that we were all as lucky as you and your golden touch.”
Violet could imagine the sneer on her uncle’s face. The door across from the office cracked. Lila peeked out of the billiards room, saw Jack, and stepped back. She left the door open to better hear. Violet angled away from the open door to avoid drawing attention to her friends.
The shouting increased in intensity until only occasional insults could be heard. “Selfish…cruel…no regard for family….”
Violet winced with each accusation, feeling for her aunt. The woman had loved Violet from the day Mama had asked Aunt Agatha to look after them. She’d spent the last two decades seeing to their education and love.
Chapter 16
Violet entered Aunt Agatha’s office with trepidation and a tea tray. Her aunt looked up from her desk slowly, brows raised.
“I thought you might trust me to give you a drink again.”
Her aunt’s snort told her that she didn’t find the statement any more humorous than Violet did, but when Violet poured two cups of tea, her aunt took one.
“What are you working on?” Violet poured cream into her tea and added sugar without thought until she realized she’d added far too much. Rather than call for another cup, she decided to reap what she’d sowed and choked down the first sip.
“Some ideas,” Agatha said vaguely. She took a sip of her own tea and then asked, “Why don’t you have a maid?”
“I can’t afford one who will stay,” Violet admitted. “You have to out pay the factories in London for a girl to be willing to press your clothes and mend your stockings. Victor has Giles, who manages our rooms, and we have a daily who comes in to help. I, can you believe it, mend my own stockings.”
“Shocking,” Aunt Agatha laughed. Her eyes crinkled with humor and they flashed on Violet’s face. If the weight of a potential murder weren’t pressing against them, they’d have had a conversation like this a half dozen times over since Violet had arrived. Instead this awful distance divided them.
She sat on the other side of a massive desk facing the room. Large windows were behind her. Light came through, but there were heavy curtains, thick and lush to keep out of the cold if she wished. It was rare, however, for Aunt Agatha to shut out the light. She’d rather have the view and a need of a shawl.
“Did you read my report about the Morris automobile company?” Agatha asked, her fingers tangled over her stomach.
Violet rose and started to arrange the papers on Agatha’s desk. There was a stack of unopened mail, and she opened it for her. Messes, like the one on Agatha’s desk, made Violet’s fingers itch. Violet took Agatha’s letter opener and opened the letters, stacked them with their envelopes and set them for Aunt Agatha to go through.
As she worked, Meredith opened the door, saw them and said, “Oh.” Her gaze flicked over the two of them.
“Hello, dear,” Agatha said, “I am happy to see you, but I was wanting to speak to each of you individually today. I’ll send for you soon, all right?”
Meredith did not look pleased when she nodded and left. Agatha turned back to Violet and asked, “Now where were we? Did you read that report I sent?”
Violet paused, gathered her thoughts back from Meredith and said, “I did read it.”
“And what did you think?”
“I think you’ve invested in the Rolls-Royce already. Would you be competing against yourself?”
“What do you think?” Agatha asked, one brow raised. There was no doubt that Violet was being quizzed by Agatha. Just what was she looking for? General assurance that Violet didn’t ignore her aunt or something more? Could whoever was attempting to kill Aunt Agatha have something to do with the shares in those companies?
“I think that both companies look as though they are doing well,” Violet admitted. “There seems to be room enough in Britain to create automobiles from both companies. Automobiles are the wave of the future, don’t you think? You might as well invest in something that could pay out twice over.”
“I like the minds behind both companies,” Agatha mused. “Innovators. They have their heads on straight, they work hard, they have bright futures. Would you invest more in Rolls-Royce or put some money towards Morris?”
Violet considered for a long moment and then said, “Some companies fail through sheer bad luck. They may both do well or perhaps one will fail and one will succeed. It might be better to diversify your investments.”
“And my thoughts on the building in Manchester?”
“People have to live somewhere, Aunt Agatha. You know as well as I do that in a crowded city, your investment will pay out.”
Agatha’s mouth twisted. She didn’t reflect approval or disapproval on Violet’s comment.
“Do you like managing money?” Agatha made a note on the paper in front of her.
“Not particularly,” Violet admitted. “I am rather spoiled, I suppose. I love to read my novels, spend time with my friends and family, pursue fashion, and p
erhaps I love nightclubs, jazz, and dancing more than I should.”
“Perhaps you do,” Agatha stated. “Yet when you wrote to me three months ago about investing in that shipment to America, you were clearly managing your money.”
Violet nodded and said, “It paid out rather well. Victor and I took a good little profit from that.”
“And your publishing company?”
“Gets our books in print,” Violet smirked. “The ones that we write on the side of our magazine job.”
“If you had something like Gerald has to manage, what would you do?”
“Something truly demanding like the estate?” Violet asked. “More than just Victor and I and our little asides?”
Agatha nodded.
“Please don’t leave your money to me,” Violet said suddenly. “I don’t wish to have something like Gerald has to manage. Aunt Aggie…someone is trying to kill you for that pile of money.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Is it? Surely not at the expense of your life,” Violet said. “I love you, Aunt Agatha. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“My dear girl, I intend on living for some time and I am not offering you my fortune. I am merely curious about what you would do.”
“Intellectually only?”
“Intellectually only. A puzzle.”
“To be honest, Aunt Agatha, I would find someone like Oscar Harrison and hire him to manage the day to day. I’d only stick my nose in often enough that he didn’t get complacent. I would spend the rest of my time traveling, spending too much money on clothes and jewels, and probably continue to write stories with Victor. Though, at a less frantic pace.”
Agatha nodded again without showing approval or disapproval.
“Is this a game you’re playing only with me?”
“No,” Agatha said. “I am curious about the others’ answers as well.”
“Will their answers change your decision about your fortune?”
Agatha leaned back again. This time her hands shook as she met Violet’s gaze. “It was to have been a gift. Henry and I wanted to create it for our own children. When we weren’t blessed and I lost my Henry,” Agatha’s voice cracked and the old pain reflected in her gaze, “it was what kept me going while I mourned him. I never stopped mourning him, you know. And I never stopped growing this fortune for those imaginary children. After a time, I looked around and realized that you were that child. You, Victor, John, all five of you. I didn’t think, not ever, that one of you would turn on me.”
Violet’s feelings had overcome her when Agatha’s voice broke, those feelings spilled down her face when Agatha said the rest.
“Please go on a trip,” Violet said. “Leave in the nighttime. Go somewhere wonderful and new. Meet a handsome man and have an affair.”
A watery laugh burst out of Agatha and she said, “You always were a troublesome thing. Full of too much vinegar. I understand you ‘popped your top’ at your uncle yesterday.”
Violet’s lips twitched and she admitted, “I did. I have been advised to flutter my lashes, flatter him effusively, and plead for forgiveness.”
“It might work on that fool,” Agatha said. Anger flashed in her gaze and she said, “He always did fall for every little female machination. Women don’t even have to try that hard. He just assumes we’re too stupid to pull the wool over his eyes.”
Violet took a sip of her tea to avoid answering. She did not, however, disagree.
“Ah, the wise silence. You are a good girl, Violet. I am proud of you. I always have been.”
Violet teared up at that. She picked up the letter opener again and rolled it across her fingers, focusing more on the etching in the handle than the look in her aunt’s face. There was too much emotion in the room for a lighthearted afternoon of tea. Not that Violet had really expected such things since her aunt had announced someone was trying to kill her.
Someday soon, they’d sit down with tea and gossip. Violet would attempt, once again, to get her aunt to read some fun little novels, and Aunt Agatha would, once again, ignore Violet’s banter about frivolous books. She couldn’t really see Aunt Agatha ever reading one of the Tarzan novels or one of the books that were intended to terrify without focusing on edifying.
Perhaps they’d discuss fashion instead. They’d go shopping together and analyze the creations of the designers Violet loved. Aunt Agatha would buy a sturdy wool coat or perhaps a sensible sweater, and Violet would buy something silky and ridiculous. Violet’s lips twitched at the idea and she looked up at her aunt, her gaze filled with so many emotions she didn’t know how to qualify them in her heart.
What did her aunt see in Violet’s face?
Whatever it was, she spurred, “Darling, I want you to know that the day your mother put you into my care was the day I started finding joy in my life again.”
“Please don’t,” Violet whispered, clutching her hands so tightly her knuckles hurt.
“Don’t tell you I love you?” Agatha’s fierce face had softened probably as much as Violet’s had.
“The issue is not the love, it’s the feel of a goodbye.”
“You and Victor and later John, Algie, and Meredith saved me, Violet. You children put joy back into my life. I’ve spent the last weeks looking back and thinking. I wasn’t the best aunt. I wasn’t fair. I am not fair now. My will is nothing but judgements and punishments. I believe it’s time to correct that.”
“What about a donation to one of those houses for the soldiers who prefer not to go out due to their scars? Those poor gentlemen deserve generosity more than any of us.”
Aunt Agatha shook her head.
“A home for widows and children?”
At that Agatha’s mouth twisted and she said, “I have less sympathy for widows than I should. I am one after all.”
“The world would be a far different place if everyone was as fierce as you.”
“Your mama was fierce like me. You are fierce like me. Now get out of my office and send me your brother or John Davies.”
Violet stood, considered her aunt for a moment, and then rounded her desk to lean down and hug her fiercely.
“I love you, Aunt Agatha.”
“And I you, my fierce girl. Tell whomever you send to give me a half an hour, will you?”
Violet was uncertain where she might find anyone, so she found Hargreaves instead. He was sitting at a solid looking table with Giles and a pot of tea in the butler’s pantry. They both had their coats off and were working on polishing the silver while they lingered over their warm drinks. Violet immediately felt as though she’d invaded their space. They looked up at her knock on the door and then smiled at her. Hargreaves had set his coat to the side and he’d replaced it with an apron.
“I apologize for interrupting you, Hargreaves, Giles.”
“Miss Violet, think nothing of it.” He stood as he asked, “Whatever can I do for you, my dear?”
“I was hoping you’d know where either my brother or John is?”
“Your brother? I am afraid not. But I believe Mr. John is in the yellow room writing letters.”
“Your brother is working in his rooms, miss,” Giles added smoothly. “He seems to be harassed by his muse today.”
That solved it. She’d hunt up John instead and maybe try to find out if he was trying to kill her aunt.
“Enjoy your tea, gentlemen. I apologize for interrupting.” She left before they felt compelled to reply and made her way to the yellow room. It was one of the smaller parlors, but she recalled the desk in the corner. She’d used it herself many a time.
The yellow room had gold fleur-de-lis wallpaper arranged in rows with golden stripes separating each vertical row. The chairs and sofa were covered in golden fabric with large contrasting pillows. It seemed more as though someone had taken every yellow or gold piece of furniture and thrown it all in the same room with no thought beyond color. Yet, somehow, the room was bright and vivid rather than overwhelming.
> John’s red head was bent over the desk with such focus she was able to enter and take a seat nearby before he realized she was there.
“By Jove,” he exclaimed when he saw her. “You are something of a sneaky thing. You should consider a future as a spy.”
Violet laughed and then examined his face. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”
“Indeed,” he agreed with an easy smile. He ran his hand over his jaw and crossed his legs.
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” she confessed. “I’d have thought I wouldn’t be so thick with us all being here for Christmas as a family and yet…I am more of a dunce than I expected.”
“You have changed quite a bit as well, and I believe the last time we spent time with Agatha together, I was nearly an adult, and you were 10 or 11. As I recall, you and your brother put itching powder in my bedsheets.”
Violet barked a laugh and admitted, “We were the most horrible children.”
John grinned and nodded and then said, “I believe you also put frogs in my bath.”
She gasped and then remembered. “Oh goodness, we did. We’d challenged each other to catch more frogs than the other. Once I won, we decided we couldn’t just let them go to waste.”
John’s deep chuckle rolled out across the room and he leaned back and said, ‘Things are different this time.”
“You’ve noted the tension,” she said.
“Indeed. I’ve only seen Agatha here and there since I went to war. I didn’t expect things to change so much.”
“To be honest,” Violet whispered, glancing over her shoulder as if looking for spies beyond herself. “Outside of this trip, you might have discovered Victor and I putting frogs in your bath again. I’m afraid we haven’t matured much beyond our thirteenth year or so.”
John laughed, but his question was serious when he asked, “What is going on, Violet?”
She flinched at the outright question, considered, and then said, “Aunt Agatha actually sent me for you. She wishes to have a private conversation. You have about a quarter of an hour before she expects you to present yourself in her office.”