by Beth Byers
“Indeed, Father,” Violet said, tucking her hand into his elbow and squeezing his arm a little.
He sipped his scotch. “Tried to put a bit of a slow down on it, if I’m being honest. Not sure what to think of this Danvers. Too old and fat for Isolde, but she just chatters to me about clothes. Not like you at all.”
Violet nibbled the corner of her mouth before speaking. “Well, of course, she isn’t, Father. We were always quite different.”
He simply tutted and took another drink of his scotch. “Girls these days. So busy dancing and drinking and buying shoes that they’ve forgotten their old fathers.”
Violet smiled up at him and said, “Have I forgotten you then, Papa? I remembered you when Victor and I were finding you some Campari, sweet vermouth, and limoncello.”
“You think I don’t know Victor was hunting those up for himself? As though all I do is drink.”
Violet kissed her father’s cheek. “We still thought of you when we bought some for you, Papa. What shall we do about Isolde?”
“I don’t think there’s much left to do, little one.” Father sighed and then took another drink from his scotch. A moment later, Thornton announced dinner, and they were separated and led in to dinner with as much ceremony as Lady Eleanor was able to drum up.
Violet was brought into dinner by a fellow named Hugo Danvers. He had to be near their brother Gerald’s age, who was a good ten years older than the twins and even older than Isolde. Poor Danvers would be Isolde’s future son-in-law and seemed too aware of the ridiculousness of it. Violet’s lips twitched at that and she met Victor’s gaze, directing his gaze to Hugo with a glance and then back to the others.
Lady Eleanor had included twelve couples. The ones Violet didn’t know were two of Mr. Danvers’s good friends. Both were married, with spoiled looking wives. They all seemed to be rather too interested in Violet’s inheritance.
One of them, a Mr. Jenkins, tried to draw out details over the fish, but Violet sidestepped. His wife tried again over the salad. The friend, Mr. Gulliver, tried during the fruit and cheese. By the time she escaped the table, she felt as pursued as a fox during hunting season.
Violet could hardly believe they even dared to approach her about it. She knew Aunt Agatha’s fortune was gossiped over, but it wasn’t the thing to demand those details.
After dinner, she was cornered by them and Danvers. Violet swallowed back her rising irritation and pasted a smile on her face.
Mr. Gulliver asked again, “Now, you inherited when your aunt, Mrs. Agatha Davies, died?”
Violet nodded. “Myself and several cousins.”
“But you received the bulk of it?”
Violet frowned. “We were all quite fortunate.”
Mr. Danvers cut in with a quelling look at his friend. “Talked to your man of business recently,” he told her.
“Did you?” Violet smiled prettily, and her brother coughed into his drink.
“Nincompoop,” Danvers snarled. “Mine is a much better choice.”
Victor’s cough became choked as Violet fluttered her lashes up at Danvers and said, “I’m afraid I have no head for business.”
“Women don’t,” Mr. Danvers said firmly. “I’ll take over for you.”
“However,” she said, smiling, “Mr. Hamilton Fredericks is one of the most respected businessmen in the whole of London, as evidenced both by his wisdom in working for a woman, my aunt, and learning from her.”
“Foolishness.”
“And of course,” Violet cut in brightly, “she took a respectable amount of money and made it something that Midas himself would envy, so perhaps your theory on the capacity of women is ill-formed, old-fashioned, and misogynistic.”
Victor choked again and then hastily drained his glass to cover his laughter.
“Now, my dear,” Mr. Danvers slid in. “A mannish woman like your aunt is unique. You can’t expect the same successes she had.”
“I have no need of those successes. I have quite the fortune without the need to further it with risky, unwise ventures. I will continue to follow the advice of my well-learned and respectable man of business with enough understanding in my vacant, female head to recognize the best course of action is to separate family and business.” Violet smirked up at Victor. “I believe I’ll try that bee’s knees, brother. You didn’t share yours with me at all.”
She let go of his arm and stepped away, entirely unsuccessful in hiding her fury. She took a drink from Thornton and made her way to the window to glance out. A moment later, she found Danvers had cornered her.
“I saw you with that…Chief Inspector.”
“I saw you with the harlot,” Violet said.
“Don’t think I won’t tell your mother.”
“Don’t think I won’t tell Isolde.”
“Isolde isn’t so foolish as yourself and knows the way of the world.”
Violet hoped very much that wasn’t true.
Danvers took hold of Violet’s arm and hissed, “You better watch what you say to me, my dear. You don’t want me for an enemy.”
“I don’t want you for anything,” Violet told him. “I find you alarming and disgusting and despise the way you tried to lie and manipulate your way to my finances.”
Danvers squeezed tighter on her bicep and the sting was shocking, but Violet didn’t let it cross her face.
Without acknowledging his vice grip, she added, “I also found you appalling when I saw your display with that female.”
She twisted her arm away, and then she leaned in and said, “I find that I am horrified for my sister. But alarmed for myself? Please.”
“Your Father…”
“Does not like you.”
“Your brother…”
“Victor?”
Danvers nodded sharply. “He’ll listen to a man of the world and step in like needs to be done.”
Violet laughed and stepped away.
He said as she left him, “You don't want me for an enemy, foolish girl.”
Chapter 5
Violet woke to a slight tapping on her door. “Lady Violet…”
She groaned and rolled onto her side.
“Lady Violet….Lady Eleanor is awaiting you in the parlor.”
Violet groaned into her pillow. “Why?”
“I…” Beatrice’s stutter had Violet pushing herself up and shoving off her eye mask.
“Coffee,” Violet said. “Aspirin. Victor. Tell my stepmother to get comfortable.”
Beatrice returned while Violet was washing her face and running a comb through her hair. She dabbed a little rouge on her cheeks and lips, blinking blearily at the maid.
“It wasn’t a horrible dream? My stepmother really has arrived?”
“She has, m’lady.”
Violet scowled at the girl, noting the tray with an ominous looking glass that smelled terrible and spicy. She turned to the girl and asked, “What’s this then?”
“Mr. Giles sent it to you, m’lady.”
Violet lifted the glass, took the aspirin from the small porcelain dish, and then plugged her nose and swallowed it all. When she was done, she shivered then dropped her robe.
“Hand me a dress,” Violet demanded.
“Any dress?”
“Any dress,” Violet replied. She grabbed a pair of stockings while Beatrice picked out a dress, shoes, and jewelry. Violet put the things on almost blindly, not really noting what she was wearing until she stood and glanced into the paneled mirror. She found a lacy light pink dress with a tie above the décolletage made out of the same material as the dress.
Violet picked up a piece of toast that had been brought up on the tray, took a long breath in, and then nibbled.
“I suppose I should hurry down,” she said, taking a seat and pouring herself a cup of coffee. She added creamer and sugar and then hurried through the toast and coffee. Just before she was finished, Victor knocked on her door.
“Are you ready?”
Violet shot
him a look. “The aspirin and whatever that…concoction Giles manifests have not yet started to assist my poor head.”
“If we linger too long, we’ll—”
“Hear about it long enough that we’ll need another aspirin.”
Victor pulled Violet unceremoniously to her feet, taking her last piece of toast. “At least you ate, love. I fought fate too long for even coffee. Though I’ll have Beatrice bring in tea and biscuits. Maybe if we focus on those, the raking over the coals won’t be so bad.”
He held out his arm, and they made their way down the stairs. “It seems accurate,” Violet told him, “that the maiden voyage of your parlor will be with Lady Eleanor. To be honest, I haven’t even stuck my nose in yet.”
“Nor have I. We’ve been busy, love.”
Violet sniffed. “I’m ready for a long lie-in and a day without appointments or shopping.”
“I’m not sure that our stepmother will let you have that. She’ll try to drag you along to whatever she’s doing for Isolde to ensure you are aware just what you are missing in refusing to put on a ball and chain.”
Violet opened the parlor door and paused when her stepmother turned a furious gaze to her.
“There you are!”
“Were we expecting you?” Violet asked smoothly, crossing to the Chesterfield and taking a seat as Victor joined her.
“I didn’t expect you to be layabouts!”
“I don’t know why not,” Violet said, pressing a finger to her temple and trying to hide a wince. “Unemployed and spoiled added to a late evening with you.”
“You drink too much. I won’t have you two becoming nothing but drunken layabouts.”
Violet sighed in relief as Beatrice entered the parlor with the tea trolley and poured them all a cup. She handed her stepmother her tea with lemon and added far too much milk and sugar to hers, necessities at a time like this.
“I understand,” Lady Eleanor said coolly, “that you were quite rude to Mr. Danvers.”
Violet sipped her tea slowly, refusing to answer until she thought her reply through. Carefully she set the cup back on the saucer. “I dislike him greatly. However, my behavior was…appropriate considering his.”
“This is a very good match for your sister, and I won’t have you ruining it.”
“I would give my fortune away to ruin it. That man is a cad and a fraud.”
Violet took a biscuit and patted Victor on the back, who’d choked at her reply. Lady Eleanor’s gaze narrowed on Violet.
“I did not ask for your opinion. Isolde wasn’t so blessed as you just were. Though why? I don’t know.”
“Agatha wasn’t related to Isolde?”
Lady Eleanor’s mouth tightened. “You will not ruin this marriage.”
“I will endeavor to do my very best for just that end.”
“Stepmother, Vi…” Victor said consolingly, “what…”
“Enough out of you, Victor,” Lady Eleanor shot out. “You are the reason Vi thinks she can do whatever she wishes. Your support gives her the freedom she’d never otherwise have. Flitting about like a…a…hussy! And with a Scotland Yard man! How could you, Violet?”
Violet leaned back, crossing her ankles and took another sip of her tea.
“Jack?” Vi finally asked.
“Jack!” Lady Eleanor hissed as though the name were a byword.
“Jack Wake…” Victor started to explain, and Violet placed a hand on her brother.
His explanation cut off, Violet said, “Who I choose to spend my time with will never be influenced by you, Lady Eleanor. You have sold Isolde to an old, fat fraud who will leave her miserable, and you know it.”
Lady Eleanor placed a hand on her chest and hissed, “Fraud? You have no ground for such a declaration, and money does a lot to bring about happiness, you ungrateful shrew.”
Violet slowly put down her teacup and asked, “And if he isn’t rich?”
“Of course, he is! My brother and my cousin have invested a large portion of their funds with him and are seeing good returns. Mr. Danvers is a man of financial brilliance.”
“Returns? Or promises of good returns? They are very different things, you know.”
“What do you know of it? You aren’t Agatha Davies. You are a headstrong, arrogant girl who…”
“That is quite enough,” Victor said. “Lady Eleanor, Violet has good cause for her concerns about Danvers. I think we can all see, however, your opinion is fixed. I won’t have my house sent into chaos so you can expel your differing notions at each other.”
Victor rose and handed Lady Eleanor to her feet. “Always lovely to see you, Stepmother. Hopefully next time we’ll all be in better spirits.”
He walked her to the door and saw her out as Violet gaped.
The second he returned to the parlor, Vi couldn’t hold back her tirade about the terrible match.
“She is so pleased with herself! They…they…they act as though Isolde weren’t rich, beautiful, and well-connected. She can’t possibly love that Danvers fellow. Where is her spine? Where are her dreams? What is wrong with her? By Jove, Victor!”
“I know, darling,” he said, sounding as sick as Violet.
“We must do something.”
“There’s nothing to be done, darling. I’ve been desperate to come up with a plan. There’s nothing. If we intrude and infuriate Isolde, we leave her with only her…mother.” He said the word as though it were a terrible insult.
“You don’t even know the half of it, Vic,” Violet moaned. “I…I…saw a man snogging in the club where Jack took me dancing. I was appalled, of course, but I didn’t think anything of it. It was Danvers!”
“With Isolde?” Victor asked, horrified. “Necking in a club!”
“No! That’s the worst of it. Oh, Victor…it wasn’t even her. He isn’t being true to her, he’s horrible, Fredericks doesn’t even think he’s as rich as he says…and Lady Eleanor will never believe me.”
“It’s criminal!” Victor stood suddenly, starting a route around the parlor with his pacing, and Violet found she was following the opposite path. Worry for Isolde rolled over her skin like a thousand ants.
“You know Lady Eleanor as well as I do,” Violet moaned. “Her math always adjusts towards her darling son. Marry off Isolde well and she won’t need the inheritance. Get us out of the way, and surely Father will leave Geoffrey the money that was once intended for us. I never imagined that would extend to Isolde, but I suppose I was foolish.”
Victor grunted, dropped into his seat, and downed his tea.
“What if you said something to Father?” She spun towards her brother, tone desperate even though she knew the answer already. Father had tried to stop this. He hadn’t known everything, but would he believe them over Lady Eleanor’s family? The elder generation? Violet didn’t think he would.
Victor shook his head.
“What about Gerald? He isn’t one to be uncaring.”
Victor sighed. “Darling, I’ll track him down. But I suppose we must accustom ourselves to being connected to Danvers.”
“Never,” Violet swore, hoping for a miracle. “Never. We must come up with a plan, we must…we must…rally round. We must call on the troops. We must find out if Danvers really does have a house of cards in various investments and is a fraud.”
They’d called for their friends to arrive at luncheon and brainstorm, and when Violet entered the parlor just before the appointed hour, she’d found that their company had arrived. Lila had already helped herself to mixing up a round of mint juleps, as Violet had intended to do before her friends showed up.
“Hullo! Hullo! How’s kicks, sweet things?” The doorbell rang as Violet spoke, and she slowly turned to face the door with a frown on her face. If it was Lady Eleanor again, Vi was going to hide.
A moment later, Hargreaves said, “Mr. Jack Wakefield has arrived, m’lady.”
Her brows rose and she glanced behind her. They all knew him anyway, and surely a military man woul
d be capable of helping them design a campaign?
“Show him in,” she said.
Hargreaves nodded and Jack appeared in the doorway a moment later. He glanced around and saw the gathering. “Oh. Ah….”
Violet took a drink from Lila and handed it to Jack. “You’re just in time for whatever Cook has whipped up if you’d like to stay. Though I fear you’ll be conscripted for our machinations.”
His lips twitched and he nodded, handing Hargreaves his coat. He didn’t make apologies for showing up and Violet appreciated it. He accepted that she hadn’t turned him away and left the awkwardness behind.
“Only home a day and already called to rally round, dear one?” Lila handed Violet a glass with a wink. “I believe we better return to the sea. I suppose some present might object.”
“I object, darling,” Denny said dryly. “You were gone far too long. None of my pants fit any longer. I cannot survive another season without you and neither can my wardrobe.”
Lila made a kissing face towards her husband. “One would think you were a full grown man capable of caring for oneself.”
“One would be wrong,” Denny replied, as Violet tucked her hand through Jack’s arm and pulled him further into the room. Denny grabbed Lila’s hand and pulled her down next to him. “I shall hold you to my side whatever it takes.”
“Tell us what’s wrong,” Gwennie said, looking towards Violet, who had invited Jack to sit with her.
“You look smashing, love,” Violet told her friend, who had certainly recovered from traveling and gone back to peaches and cream skin, bright eyes, and a steady smirk. Violet glanced around for Victor. “Surely my lazy brother will appear in a moment or two. But we can begin without him.” Violet sat on the edge of the Chesterfield. “You must all swear yourselves to carry this horrid tale to your graves. Whether the plan goes aright or horribly wrong.”
A chorus of promises filled the air. Violet told the tale of Isolde, her fiancé, and what Violet had seen and heard of the man. While she spoke, describing Danvers’s horridness and Isolde’s naivety, she could feel Jack’s attention on her. It warmed her, and she prayed she wasn’t blushing too terribly. Victor appeared during the middle of the tale and let Violet finish.