by Beth Byers
“From what we can tell, all of the major investors in Danvers’s scheme were in attendance early, along with your family.”
“What are you thinking?” Vi hated the realization that, once again, her family were the main murder suspects.
They didn’t answer her, finishing their coffee instead until the men made their excuses. Barnes and Victor stepped into the hall while Jack squatted in front of her once again.
“You seem fragile.”
“It won’t last,” she promised. “Aunt Agatha, after she was cleaned up, that was the only body I can remember seeing. The way…” Violet’s eyes filled with tears. “How did you survive the war?”
He didn’t lose sympathy for her when she asked the question. Not even though her trial had been so much less harrowing than his had.
“The things men do to each other can be awful. The things men do for each other can be wonderful. I wasn’t in the trenches, thank god, but I saw men throw themselves over the body of a friend, one life for another. The good things aren’t exclusive to war heroism, either. People are heroic and kind and beautiful every day. Focus on those things and these megrims will fade.”
Violet hoped it was true. Maybe at that moment merely because he did, she believed it, but she would cling to the idea all the same.
“I’ll check on you tomorrow.” He pressed her hand and left her with her cooled tea. That hadn’t been a question, and it had been a little proprietary. Her imagination took momentary flight, and she smiled into her tea. Maybe it was better to focus on the little goodnesses of life and turn the big, horrible things over to God, fate, and the universe.
Chapter 10
The world was a better place when Violet woke. The most likely reason was because her head no longer had a drummer boy banging away inside. She dressed with more care than usual because the process of choosing a dress and applying her makeup gave her something to focus on besides the day before.
What was happening with her father? Her brother, Gerald? Had Lady Eleanor forgiven Isolde in the light of her betrothed’s death or would there be recriminations and derision over the course of the day? Violet dabbed a light red on her lips and examined her powder. She was still a bit pale, but she’d have to do.
She put her makeup carefully away, took off her kimono and sprayed herself with perfume before she put on the light blue dress. It set off the color of her skin and hair. She finished with a simple cameo at her neck and her hair tucked back with a plain comb. She looked fashionable enough but not bright. She examined the dress, considered the death the day before, and exchanged her dress for a dark grey one instead, with a dropped waistline and pleated skirt.
She made her way to Isolde’s room and found the girl. With dark circles under her eyes and her normally pale complexion still paler, Isolde could have been confused for a ghost.
“Cheer up, cheerio,” Vi told her sister. “You’ll feel better after some food and tea.”
Violet pushed her sister through dressing, putting the scattering of Isolde’s possessions away as her sister put on a black dress and said, “I suppose I’d better appear to be mourning.”
Violet didn’t disagree, but she said, “Anyone with half a wit will know you escaped, my love. But putting on the black garb is the best idea. You can keep with it until we take you out of England and then drop the act once the fervor dies down. You can be a bright young thing again, slip into college, and it’ll all fade with the perfecting of your French and literature.”
Isolde brightened at the idea. “Where shall we go? I have always wanted to visit Bruges, Belgium. My friend, Lisbeth, went. She said she’s never seen anything more beautiful.”
“Certainly there,” Violet agreed without a thought and finished putting Isolde’s things away.
The room was tidied, her sister was wan and beautiful in black, and the dark circles under her eyes had been masked with powder. They went down to the breakfast room together and found Victor sitting with Jack and Gerald.
“Isolde, dear.” Gerald held his arms out to her, and she kissed each cheek and let him settle her, making a plate for her while she tried to drink her tea.
Violet’s greeting from her brother was less enthusiastic, so she made herself a plate and didn’t fight the urge to seat herself next to Jack for breakfast.
“You seem to be endlessly feeding me,” he murmured.
Victor’s laugh distracted Jack from Vi’s blush, and she spread marmalade over her toast as Jack admitted, “I wanted to ensure all was well here.”
“Who besides me is without an alibi?” Victor asked idly.
“I am,” Gerald said. “And I’d have liked to kill the blighter.”
Isolde’s shocked glance had Gerald holding up his hands and admitting, “I didn’t of course, love. Of course, I didn’t. I came by to let Wakefield here know that there’s a bit of a tizzy happening at Kennington house. Not sure of the details. Everyone becomes silent as monks when I enter. But a lot of hissing and bywords. Muttering and dire looks. You’d think someone was at death’s door instead of a blighter we hardly liked already gone.”
“Hardly liked.” Isolde’s offense at Gerald’s opinion of her fiancé made Vi’s lips twitch, so she sipped her coffee to hide her reaction.
“You knew I didn’t like him, Isolde. Don’t pretend to be surprised now. Is there tea?” Gerald demanded. “What’s wrong with a good cuppa?”
“Vi and I adjusted to coffee in Italy, boyo.” Victor nodded to Hargreaves, who disappeared from his post near the door. The household had only the cook, the butler, Beatrice, and Giles. The servants tended to do quite a bit of double duty when it came to things like this.
They should, Vi thought, probably hire at least one more daily.
“Violet says we can go to Bruges,” Isolde told Victor.
His gaze flicked to Vi’s, who nodded once, but she noticed Jack’s gaze had narrowed on her face. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. Isolde needed someone to take her out of the country and distract her. Who else could do it?
“Be good for you to get out of the way until things die down,” Gerald said with a glance between Jack and Violet. Her eldest brother didn’t look disapproving. More contemplative.
“After the killer is found, I’m afraid. At least for the gentlemen.” It was Jack who cut in and Violet prevented a sigh of relief. She wanted to go to Bruges…just not without Jack. When had this happened to her?
“A few weeks in Belgium will be just the thing before college, Isolde,” Violet reminded her. “College will shake off this temporary madness, give you a safe place to provide you some distance and help you find your own wants. If you wish to wed and have children…”
“I…” She looked as though it was hard to say and then her mouth firmed and she admitted, “It’s always what I wanted.”
“Then you can do so,” Violet said calmly, “to a man you actually wish to spend your days with.”
“Mother says you are too mannish to marry,” Isolde told Violet. “Do you not wish to marry?”
Violet snorted before she admitted, “Perhaps. I have had offers, but I have no desire to marry for the sake of the institution. For love, I’d marry for that.”
“Love,” Gerald repeated. “Women are all the same.”
“Don’t you believe in love, old man?” Victor leaned back and crossed his leg, waiting for Gerald to reply.
“On occasion,” Gerald said. “Less on days like the last few.”
“You had better marry,” Victor told Gerald strictly. “I don’t want that title saddled on me, old boy. If you can’t find love, find someone fun, have a kid or two and go back to your shooting or whatever it is that you like.”
“Managing the estates is work, Victor,” Violet told her brother. “It isn’t as though Gerald is the layabout you are.”
“That is exactly the problem I am referring to, darling one. Save me, Gerald. Save me from the title and the responsibility. Better yet, save Violet. She’ll do it for me,
you know. She doesn’t deserve such a fate.”
“Siblings, please,” Jack said. “I have been conscripted and must be about my day. No leaving London until you’re cleared to go.”
They all nodded, and Violet walked him to the door.
“I’d still like to have dinner and the play. If your mother doesn’t object.”
Violet barely held back the derisive snort that comment deserved. “Her taste in sons-in-law is not one I endorse.”
Jack shifted just a little closer. He didn’t cross any proprietary lines, but his bulk made Violet feel safe once again. With Jack, who wouldn’t feel safe?
“Keep close to Victor until the fiend is caught. Isolde and yourself.”
Violet nodded and realized she should check on Lady Eleanor and Father. She should do it that day, but there was something else that had been growing in her mind since she’d woken, and she needed to bare her soul.
“May I speak with you for a few moments?”
Jack nodded and followed her into the parlor. “I had forgotten what I had done.”
His gaze went from inquisitive to serious as she started to pace, stopping here and there to straighten a knick-knack or a pillow.
“What did you do?” he asked after she’d straightened one of the pillows twice.
“I…when…” Violet’s mouth pursed, then she nibbled on her lower lip. “I couldn’t abide Danvers. Especially after he manhandled me as he did. I could see Isolde’s future, and it was full of far worse than a bruise on an arm.”
Jack nodded and didn’t speak. The silence tugged at Violet until she pressed shaking fingers to her mouth and said, “I knew from Fredericks that Danvers’s investments were very unlikely to be sound. I knew a few names of the investors. I had Fredericks approach them. I wrote concerned letters myself. To Harry and Helen Mathers. I…Jack…” She sat near him on the edge of the seat. “I told Fredericks to spend what he needed of my money to tug at the scheme. To see if he could make it fall apart. If Danvers was proven to be poor, Lady Eleanor would delay the wedding and then later cancel it. I knew she would. I…think it must all come back to me. This murder…it’s my fault.”
Violet was fully trembling at that point. Terrified he’d be disgusted by her, afraid to let her mind touch too closely on what she might have caused. Trying to fight that memory. That terrible memory of the blood, the hand, the lank of hair.
“This is not your fault, Violet.”
She looked up at him, his great shoulders so easy to throw her burdens upon.
“Whoever did this was reacting to a crime that Danvers committed. Their reaction would have happened sooner or later. What if he’d married Isolde and she’d been present? Your actions might have saved your sister’s life. We can’t know how things may have turned out.”
She nodded and then said, “You’ll need to talk to Fredericks.”
Jack agreed.
“He’ll talk more freely if I am there.”
“Not Victor?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Fredericks was part of Agatha’s training. He spent time with all of us cousins that Aunt Agatha raised. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she gave all of us the chance to learn to manage what she’d created. I thought I might as well learn and apply to what Victor and I had. It was why…” Violet stopped, overcome by the death that mattered. It was why she’d been the one who inherited. Of them all, she was the only one who’d listened and learned.
“I understand,” Jack said. “Bring Victor? Two o’clock?”
Violet agreed and Jack left. She didn’t go back to the breakfast room but up to her bedroom. After a moment, she pulled out her journal and sent for tea.
The end of the morning passed with her admitting to herself as she wrote that her feelings for Jack would not be reasoned with, that she had no desire to go to Belgium, but she knew she’d be going all the same, and that she might have contributed to the situation that caused the death of a man.
A bad man, yes. But if history laid out the things that led to his death, her actions would be part of the reasons why. She had, however, acted in good faith in the attempt to save her sister from a man who had been a scoundrel. She could not let this result ruin her. All she could do, she realized, was trust that her good intentions mattered. That they both mattered and had consequences. Consequences both good and bad. Today her sister was still a free young girl, and a vile man had died.
Violet set her pen aside and made a list for Giles. She wanted another typewriter, and a journal for Isolde. She needed to learn the importance of discovering her thoughts and desires through writing. Perhaps, if journaling worked for Isolde as it did for both Violet and Victor, Isolde wouldn’t be trapped by the plans of others again.
The last thing on the list was a book about Belgium. Violet didn’t want to be unprepared for this trip. When that was done, she sent her request to Giles with Beatrice and then made a new list. On this one she put several names:
Helen Mathers
Harry Mathers
Markus Kennington
Norman Kennington
Mr. Gulliver
Mr. Higgins
Hugo Danvers
Unlike when she’d made a list of suspects after Aunt Agatha died, Violet didn’t bother with putting Gerald or Victor’s names on it. She didn’t think even Jack believed that either of them were truly suspects. But she had to consider adding Father’s. What if he’d learned that Danvers had been corrupting Helen Mathers? What if Father had learned that Isolde had been pressured into this wedding by the work of his wife and family? What if Father had learned that Danvers had intended to steal away Isolde and treat her poorly?
Would the same lion he’d imparted to Victor, Gerald, Peter, and Geoffrey appear? Violet had never seen that side of her father, but she’d seen it in her brothers often enough that she was certain it existed. Somewhere in his blood was the same conquering soul that had carved out a piece of England and a title for his heirs.
Slowly, she etched out the final name: Henry Carlyle .
Chapter 11
Victor took Violet’s coat as they entered the business offices. The man, Jones, was at his desk, ears red. He must have gotten quite a talking to at his reaction to Violet’s earlier appearance. She grinned at him and said, “Blustery outside, isn’t it?”
“Yes, m’lady. I…” The start of an apology appeared on his face.
Violet tut-tutted. “Think nothing of it.”
His face turned even a more brilliant red, and Violet turned to see that Jack and Mr. Barnes had appeared behind them.
“Hullo,” she said brightly. Jack searched her face carefully, so she pasted a happy smile on her face. It didn’t reach her eyes, and she was sure he noticed. His mouth tightened, but neither of them said a thing. And neither of them pulled the wool over their companions’ gazes. Victor and Mr. Barnes knew their counterparts far too well for that.
Mr. Fredericks already had a tea tray in the office and they all helped themselves before taking their seats.
“Lady Violet, how may I assist you?”
“You heard of Mr. Danvers’s death?”
Fredericks nodded once, his face solemn and composed.
“I’m concerned that my actions regarding his investment scheme precipitated his death.”
Fredericks frowned and adjusted the papers in front of him. He did not, however, provide her false comfort. He simply cleared his throat.
“It is possible, my lady. I have discovered rather a lot of money has been wrapped up in Mr. Danvers and those schemes.”
Violet glanced at Jack and Mr. Barnes, who asked a series of questions about who had been involved.
“The small investors are unlikely to realize that there was a problem and to find it worth killing over,” Barnes said. “Tell us the bigger names.”
Fredericks glanced at Violet, who nodded, and he answered, “Mr. Markus Kennington, Mr. Norman Kennington, Lord Henry Carlyle.” Fredericks paused and Victor shifted unc
omfortably in his chair, but Violet had suspected their father’s involvement might be the case before they’d appeared. Mr. Danvers had been too much in Lady Eleanor’s pocket for it to be otherwise.
“Mr. Mathers?” Violet asked smoothly.
“He and Mr. Danvers had been partners for decades, m’lady. If anyone knew the true nature of what we suspect, it would be Mr. Mathers.”
She wasn’t surprised to hear Mr. Gulliver or Mr. Higgins involved when Fredericks continued. They’d worked with Danvers to try to corner Violet about her inheritance. She considered while the others murmured about guessed percentages and amounts. The details of the total amount invested was far less concerning than who had invested all they had. Violet was certain that Gerald wouldn’t have done such a thing as invest everything, and he had the bulk of Father’s money in his care.
She just couldn’t put her father in the real suspect column. She had written his name on her list, but she didn’t believe it. She might not want to believe it, but she was going to presume he wasn’t the killer until she could no longer face anything else.
“Who,” Violet asked, interrupting, “would lose everything should this investment scheme turn out to be what we suspect?”
Fredericks paused before speaking. “Certainly Higgins and Gulliver. Not your father or Mr. Markus Kennington. I have been unable to ascertain how much Mr. Norman Kennington invested. However, he does have some reliable incomes that would continue as long as he didn’t mortgage them to invest, and I do not believe that is the case.”
Violet stood and started pacing Mr. Frederick’s office. She noted it was dusted recently with the papers, except for the few in front of him, tucked into folders or drawers. She grinned and glanced at the men. Each of them was watching her pace.
Violet thought back to her list and wondered if people would kill if it wasn’t all of their money.
“Where does Mr. Mathers get his income? Just with Danvers or did he have separate interests?”