The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Boxset 1

by Beth Byers

  “That isn’t clear. He doesn’t have debts racked about the city like Mr. Danvers. He paid his daughter’s school bills on time. I can’t be sure how much he might have lost.”

  Mr. Barnes finished with his questions. “This has been very helpful.” He paused before asking, “Did Mr. Danvers intend to marry Isolde for her money?”

  Mr. Fredericks said, “Lord Carlyle is very careful with his income and his children. The amount he invested was paltry compared to his wealth. What he set aside for Isolde is wrapped up tightly for her.”

  “Do you believe that Mr. Danvers was aware of that?”

  “It is possible he was led to believe that he’d be able to access those funds upon their marriage.”

  Mr. Barnes’s brows rose, and Victor answered the unspoken question. “Our stepmother. She has an infinite faith in her ability to sway my father with what he has to offer and how it will be laid out.”

  Violet finished. “We have a little half-brother, Geoffrey. He is the moon in her skies and the rest of us must fend for ourselves, and if she could give him everything, she would. He’s also the youngest of us. Father will do his best for him, but Gerald and not bankrupting the estate is the priority.”

  Jack and Mr. Barnes gave their thanks and left, the official questioning over.

  Violet asked Mr. Fredericks, “Was there anything you didn’t share?”

  Mr. Fredericks hesitated. “People have lost fortunes many times over, my lady. Any choices that were made because we prodded the house of cards doesn’t mean responsibility lies at your feet. It would have all fallen apart eventually.”

  Violet agreed, and they discussed their own business for several minutes before Victor and Violet took their leave.

  “Shall we lunch at that little Chinese food restaurant, darling?”

  Violet thought that just the thing. They lingered over their dishes of noodles and chicken and their Chinese wine. They avoided going home, and Violet had to admit it was because she didn’t want to hear Isolde chatter about Belgium. That made Violet think of Jack and made her second guess every little thing she’d said or done in the last few days, let alone when she’d been at Aunt Agatha’s house and hadn’t realized her infatuation would grow and grow.

  She had journaled just that morning about the effect of him squatting down in front of her when she was at her end and how it made her feel. She couldn’t deny it had been wonderful. Delightful even. Delicate. Important. Important to someone.

  She knew that she was important to Victor. She was discovering that she’d mattered to Isolde. Vi knew her father loved her in a distant sort of way and was realizing that despite the distance between her siblings caused by Lady Eleanor and being half-raised by Aunt Agatha, Vi’s other siblings had loved and cared for her. She hadn’t felt it until recently though. That realization mattered as did the realization that mattering to people changed her perspective about herself and her place in the world.

  They had long since finished their meal when Violet asked suddenly, “What if we were to go visit Helen Mathers?”

  “For condolences on the death of a lover who was throwing her over for someone with more money?” Victor’s scoff was unwarranted in Violet’s opinion, but she nodded. “You’ll have to do better than that, love.”

  “As concerned friends,” Violet suggested. “Who knew Helen attended the wedding and felt bad about…”

  “We feel bad someone murdered someone else?” Victor smirked.

  Vi scowled. “To…represent the family. A personal apology.”

  Victor drained his small wine glass and said, “It isn’t like they can do much more than throw us out as we’ll deserve. If you want to try it, I’m with you. Any idea where they live?”

  Violet shook her head. “We can’t ask Jack. He’d tell us to stay out of it. I wonder if Isolde knows where Helen lives.”

  Victor rang up their house and inquired, and they left the restaurant soon after with the address in hand. Victor left his car, and they took a cab simply because the driver had a far better chance of knowing how to get there.

  The travel through London was slow, and Violet was bouncing as she pondered different ways to approach Helen. She finally determined on playing the concerned friend. It would very much be playacting as Violet and Helen only knew each other in passing, attending the same parties and whatnot before Violet had inherited and Helen had gotten caught up with her father’s business partner. Violet shuddered. Being courted by Danvers would be very much like having poems read to the beauty of your eyes or other such nonsense—by your father.

  This was why women had worked so hard to gain their rights. Of course, Violet supposed that those very rights gave Helen the choice to fall for her father’s business partner. Just because Violet found it unwarrantable didn’t mean she had to…oh! This was no time to be debating the rights of women. How could Violet get Helen to confide in her?

  Perhaps just the weight of her silence? That was the method that Aunt Agatha used when Violet was a child. A leading question, a benign expression, a long silence. If you could wait out the intended victim, sometimes all you needed was the silence. Too often people couldn’t stand the weight of it and filled it against their better interest.

  The part of London where the Matherses lived didn’t proclaim why someone like Danvers would seek them out. It wasn’t over-the-top houses that shouted wealth and status. The house was, rather, a sturdy brick above with a garden, with a girl walking a dog in the park across the street from the houses, a woman feeding birds from a park bench, and a nanny letting children fly a kite and chase through the grass.

  None of the houses were ostentatious, though they were all nice. None of them had stone lions, personalized gates, or topiary. Yet they were made of brick with cut lawns, clean streets, and the nice park available for their use.

  This wasn’t so very different from Victor’s neighborhood actually. Violet examined each of the houses carefully and then they walked up to the door of number 18.

  Chapter 12

  The door of Mather’s house had been painted a deep garnet red and the knocker was a fanciful lion. Violet examined it before she used it and told Victor, “You should get one of those fun knockers, but a dragon instead.”

  “I don’t have the same love for all things Asian as you do, luv. When Wakefield succeeds in binding you to him, you’ll have to take a honeymoon and visit Japan or China. Hong Kong, perhaps? Buy one for yourself there and bring it back to your very English home.”

  Violet grinned at her brother. “I doubt very much that the British version of Asian things will be very much the same as they are there.” She would have continued, but the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman in a black dress.

  “Hello,” Violet said brightly. “Lord and Lady Carlyle for Helen Mathers. We’re old friends.”

  “She’s not here,” the woman said with a tight mouth. It was nearly an accusation, as though Vi and Victor should know that Helen wasn’t at home.

  “Oh, that is too bad,” Violet said. “We were so hoping to have an outing with her and catch up on old times. Do you know when she’ll return?”

  “Won’t be back for some time,” the woman snapped.

  “What about Mr. Mathers?” Victor inserted smoothly with the same bright smile. “We’d love to see him as well.”

  “They’re both gone. Won’t be back anytime soon. Leave your card if ya want.”

  Victor smoothly pulled a card out to leave with the woman, but before he did, he inquired again, “We saw her just recently.”

  “Gone sick, she has,” the woman said. “Real sick. Don’t think she’ll be back for quite a while.”

  “Oh, I say,” Victor said, keeping the genial tone but adding a touch of concern, “that is too bad. Is there somewhere we can send a get well chocolate or a card? Perhaps some flowers?”

  The woman shook her head, took the card, and said, “I’ll see she gets this.” The door closed in their faces. The twins turned
to each other and then glanced back at the door.

  “What the devil?” Victor swore. “We just saw her. She was pale, I suppose. But so sick she had to leave home?”

  Violet played with the ring on her finger as she thought over what she’d seen of Helen. She had been kissing Danvers rather fervently in that club. The action of a girl who’d been spurned? No. Perhaps, Vi thought, the action of a girl who hoped desperately that somehow the marriage would not come to pass. The act of a girl in love?

  She’d seemed sick at the wedding. Maybe? Definitely sad. What if she had been in love? Or…Vi’s brows rose as another, more terrible idea hit her. What if Helen had been expecting? What if Danvers had persuaded the girl into bed? She wasn’t much older than Isolde. Would she know how to protect herself against an unwanted result?

  What would a girl like Helen do if she found herself in such a condition and the man who had been the father had intended to marry another? That would leave one heartbroken and listless. Pale and sick looking. It was all conjecture, of course, but possible.

  She placed her hand on Victor’s arm, knowing he’d never had to think of such things, and they started down the path to their car. The girl with the large spaniel from the park stood there, hand on the leash of her dog.

  “Hullo, there,” Victor said charmingly. He could be quite persuasive to the opposite sex, and Violet watched him almost angrily as he introduced them and asked, “The younger Miss Mathers?”

  The girl nodded. Her dimple was flashing and she gazed up at Victor with a wide, shocked gaze when he turned his attention to her.

  “Whatever are you doing here instead of school?” Vi’s tone wasn’t accusatory.

  “Oh…I came home to spend the weekend with the family and…something came up.”

  “We heard your sister was quite ill,” Violet said. “We’re so concerned.”

  Something in the girl’s face said that at least part of what they’d heard was a lie. Victor started to inquire, but Vi squeezed his elbow and he glanced at her. She shook her head slightly, and they turned inquiring gazes at the girl.

  “What is your name?”

  “Anna.” The girl dimpled again and cast another look at Victor.

  “Would it be all right, do you think? If we were to take you for an ice cream?”

  The girl glanced at the house, at the twins, and the promise of sweets seemed to be enough to get her to take the dog inside and slip back out.

  Victor seated Anna in the car as though he were escorting her personally while Violet placed herself in the back seat.

  “Are you quite close to Helen?”

  The girl hesitated before answering. “We used to be quite close. When we were both at school. Now…”

  “It’s hard when you get separated, isn’t it? Victor and I were, of course, since he went to the boys’ school and I to the girls’. Even in the same town, it was hard to see each other.”

  Victor glanced at Vi. “We used to sneak out at night and meet. Run wild. Got sent down from school a few times for that.”

  “And we had a drop place where we’d leave each other notes and things. Ciphers for a while when we were obsessed with spy novels.” Violet grinned and winked as Victor parked the automobile.

  They all ordered ice cream and found a little table to enjoy the treat.

  “Tell us about Helen,” Violet said, nudging her brother. “What happened? How can we help?”

  The girl glanced between them and then down at her ice cream. Her face went solemn and worried, and Violet asked, “Is it her lover?”

  The girl glanced up at Vi with a swift expression and then at Victor before returning to playing with her ice cream.

  “Victor,” Violet said, “would you be so good as to go get me some more paper from that little shop while we’re here? And maybe some things for Anna to take back to school with her. Are you going soon?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said, her mouth squirming up into a scowl.

  Victor nodded and rose.

  “Buy for her,” Violet said before he stepped away, “like her sister would. Sisters spoil each other, you know.”

  As soon as Victor was gone, Violet reached out and took Anna’s hand. “I know about having a little sister. Sometimes we need our big sisters and don’t have them. Talk me to me as though I were Helen, and I’ll do my best for you.”

  The girl bit her lip and Violet waited. She had to admire the tenacity of the girl. She fought telling all, but the silence and her worries were too much for her.

  “She…it was the lover. She…she…he was going to marry someone else. Someone he didn’t love. For the money!”

  Violet gasped appropriately and kept her gentle hand on Anna’s. She squeezed it lightly. “Poor Helen.”

  “He was never good enough for her!”

  “They never are,” Violet agreed gently.

  “It was worse than that. He was rich and she wanted to be rich. Always flashing about money. Papa works hard for us. He puts money aside, watches every little purchase. But he’s quite strict with purchases and allowances. Helen hated it. All our friends have spending money, buckets of it. But we barely have enough for things we actually need.”

  Violet could imagine how hard that would be, especially at a school for wealthy girls without the corresponding allowance. Helen must have been slighted and teased often.

  “She always swore she’d find a rich man someday. One who would spoil her. And when she found one, he was…well…he wasn’t what you’d want.”

  “Older?” Violet asked.

  Anna nodded and whispered, “Older even than Papa. And fat!”

  “Oh,” Violet moaned. “Helen is so beautiful. She could have someone else.”

  “But she didn’t want to wait,” Anna said. “She didn’t like being home from school and not having any money. Papa keeps an eye on where she goes, too. But he trusted this man, so he’d let him take her out and not the men more her age.”

  “Oh, your poor sister. I feel quite angry for her.”

  Anna nodded, not seeing the gleam in Vi’s eye. She did feel quite sorry for Helen, but any girl who decided that Danvers was the best bet had to be sick in the head.

  “So she…well…I shouldn’t say.”

  “Talk to me like I’m your sister,” Violet instructed. “You need to get this off your chest before you go back to school or it’ll wear you down and you’ll find yourself telling some untrustworthy young miss.”

  Anna looked alarmed at that idea and when Violet waited yet again, Anna finally continued. “Helen thought that she had to let him…well…you know…”

  Violet nodded.

  “And then she found out…”

  “There was a result,” Violet said gently.

  Anna nodded, glancing around to ensure no one was listening and then she hissed, “But then he threw her over for a richer girl. Papa said it was better, the man was too old for Helen. She should have never imagined that it would be anything other than him showing Helen about. Papa didn’t realize that they’d…well…and that Helen was…well…”

  Violet nodded. It was as she suspected. She didn’t need Anna to say the words aloud.

  “Did she try to end it?”

  Anna shook her head. “She couldn’t find anywhere. She doesn’t know anyone who would know how. Helen wasn’t feeling well. Being alone without getting out was too hard. She’s quite needy to interact with others. She gets blue when she doesn’t. All of that together, she was just…sad.” The look at Anna’s face told Vi the depth of that sadness. It had been too much for the poor, spurned girl.

  Violet leaned back, shocked. “I see…”

  Helen had tried to end herself, not the baby. Violet wanted to murder Danvers herself. He’d ruined the heart of a young girl and had expected her to arrive at the wedding. Of all the dastardly, no good, evil things to do to a poor girl barely out of the schoolroom. And to imagine him flailing about on the top of poor—Violet shuddered and put the idea out of her hea
d before she sicked-up in her bowl of melted ice cream.

  “Listen to me,” Violet said gently. “Your sister is sad. I hope your father is taking her somewhere that will see to her.”

  “I threw a fit until he swore he’d take her to the seaside. She feels better in the sun. I made him swear he’d be kind. He was so angry. I’d never seen him like that. But he wasn’t angry at her. He was sad for her. So, I think…I think…”

  “The sun will be just the thing. The sun, time, healing. It just takes time. You write to your sister. Remind her of good things. Send her books and letters and things to keep her mind filled. Make your father use that money he has put away.” Violet pulled out a notebook from her drawstring bag. “Give me your address at school.”

  Anna listed it off.

  “And Helen’s address.”

  Anna hesitated and then listed it off.

  Violet said, “I will send her a care package as you have never seen before.”

  Anna grinned and squealed a little.

  Violet frowned, thoughtful, then told Anna, “I will be your patroness. Expect a small allowance from me.”

  The girl’s mouth dropped.

  “You are bright. You are kind. You are loving. In return, you swear to me you will do well in school. It’s a new day for women, but only if we take it. Will you take it?”

  The girl nodded.

  “You’ll work hard?”

  She nodded, eyes wide.

  “Qualify for college, and I’ll see to it you can go. Now, put Helen out of your mind beyond your letters and care. Your sister will get better. Things will improve with time. She has escaped that fiend even if she doesn’t know it yet. She will realize it one day.”

  Anna nodded, and as she finished her ice cream, Violet made a list of things that Hargreaves would need to see regularly sent to the girl with her allowance. If Violet was going to be in Belgium with Isolde, preventing sadness and being locked away from turning her into Helen, then someone else would need to see to the day-to-day of caring for the girl.

  “Thank you, love,” Violet told her as they walked back out to the car and found Victor with a large box. “I will be careful with your confidences. I look forward to our alliance.” Violet turned to her brother. “Victor, give her your card. I expect to hear how you are doing at school,” she said to Anna. “And a report of when you’ll be back in London, so we can get together and have a good gossip. Send me the details of all your friends, so I’m ready to discuss the ins and outs.”