by Beth Byers
Helen had been lied to and manipulated by a man who had claimed to love her. Lila had married her long-time love and found herself happiness that was fraught with frustration only because she and Denny insisted on going their own path while everyone around them was waiting to hear an announcement that included little bundles of joy and less jazz.
Gwennie was reliant on the generosity of her family but also controlled by their expectations. If Gwennie could have worked without causing a huge ruckus in her family, she would have. They wanted her, however, beholden to them and behaving as they chose.
Then there was Isolde, the long-time spoiled daughter of an earl who was manipulated and pushed into an engagement that was the antithesis of everything she’d ever wanted for herself. Pursuing an education wasn’t necessary, nothing was but attaching herself to a rich man and letting him see to her needs.
And then there was Vi. She’d been able to have much more freedom than the rest, but mostly because her eccentricities always included Victor. Vi had the protection of a man with the assumption of others that he controlled her. If she hadn’t had Victor, would Violet have been treated as another carefree chit who’d thrown away the wisdom of the ages?
Yet here she was—with all this freedom—and still finding herself dreaming of love, a home, and marriage. Was it the feminine in her? Perhaps women were born desiring these things? Or perhaps it was simply the effect of Jack on her?
Vi laid her head on her brother’s shoulder and watched the country pass by, wondering about all of the women who were on the other side of the glass going about their lives. Just because the right to vote had been extended to women—and not even Violet yet—it didn’t mean that they’d truly found equality.
“You seem very serious,” Victor said.
“I…”
Victor waited, lips twitching, and she knew he was using her favorite interrogation technique on her. She scowled at him, and he grinned back.
“I find myself confused by my reaction to Jack.”
“Why?”
The best thing about having a twin brother who had always seen her as the better piece of himself was that she knew he’d understand.
“I feel like it’s going too fast between us.”
“Darling Vi,” Victor said, “realizing you enjoy Jack’s company and that you’re attracted to him does not mean that you have committed your days to him.”
“It’s going too fast inside my head,” she admitted. “It’s just that I find my mind wondering what that would be like. I go there again and again in my mind, and it’s driving me mad.”
Victor laughed. “You always were a planner. You think and examine and try things out with your imagination. What’s terrifying is not trying Jack out in your mind, silly girl. What’s terrifying you is that for the first time—when you imagine a future with someone else—you are not tempted to run away.”
Violet licked her lips. Was Victor right? He usually was when it came to understanding her. Perhaps the problem was that she was prepared to imagine a future with a man and feel that she could never abide it. She knew what to do with those feelings and how to handle that reaction. What did you do with something different? She hadn’t been prepared for that at all.
A ‘no’ was perhaps, far, far easier than a ‘yes.’ Yeses were less safe. They required more work. More trust in yourself. Actually trusting, truly and completely, and that person being anyone other than Victor. Vi wasn’t all that sure she had that much capacity for faith in someone else.
“Vi,” Victor said gently. “Do you know why Denny and Lila work so perfectly?”
She shook her head.
“Because they got to the point where the image of a future without each other was untenable. They’d rather struggle together than apart. You’ll know when a future with Jack is the right thing when you want it more than you want your safety net. Until then? Have fun. You haven’t yet made promises nor are you being asked to do so.”
Violet nodded and then pulled her journal back out, writing out her thoughts about what Victor had suggested. That, she thought, she could do. She could wait until when she imagined a future without Jack in it—and it wasn’t one she could abide.
She didn’t have to decide if she was in love at that moment. Not this moment, this day or even this year. She didn’t have to decide if she was falling in love. She could, instead, try to figure out how she would know. It was enough to say she enjoyed his company. Vi liked how Jack made her feel, and she was happy to keep on considering him.
“There is something about the sea that makes the day seem brighter,” Violet told Victor as he put up the umbrella they’d purchased and placed it over the both of them.
He laughed at her but didn’t discount her theory. It was the same for him. It always had been. The sound of the sea, the call of the gulls, the scent of salt and wet in the air—they always made things better for the twins.
They had the name of the place where Mr. Mathers and Helen were staying, but as they walked through the town, Violet nudged Victor. “There’s Helen.”
Helen had gone from pale and upset to death walking. The circles under her eyes were huge, and she sat in a tearoom with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits in front of her, but they were untouched. She sat alone, and she was staring out the window of the tearoom but didn’t seem to be seeing the scene in front of her.
Violet knew without speaking to Helen that she’d never reveal a thing of the womanly nature with Victor present.
“Track down Mr. Mathers?” Vi suggested. “He’ll talk to you more frankly without me there, and I believe it’ll be the same with Helen.”
Victor nodded. “I’ll come find you here. Don’t go off without me.”
She agreed, and he left her while she went into the tearoom and seated herself with Helen.
It took Helen a few moments to realize that she’d been invaded, and when she did, she squeaked.
“I’m sorry,” Vi told her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just saw you sitting here…”
“Please don’t,” Helen said, holding up a hand. “I know you tracked me down. I got a letter from Anna. I know that you found out all my secrets.”
It hadn’t been well done of Vi to manipulate Anna as she had, but there was a murderer afoot and two of the main suspects had disappeared. There had to be a point where that was more important than what Helen preferred.
Violet crossed her fingers together in her lap. “The puzzle of who killed Danvers is occupying my thoughts and preventing my sister from moving on. It’s not only you who needs closure. We all do.”
Helen’s expression said she wasn't all that invested in what burden Isolde might be carrying or the turn of Violet’s thoughts.
“It’s not her fault, you know,” Violet tried. Maybe if she made Isolde human to Helen, the girl would realize that they were both victims.
“That she stole Carlton from me?”
“That Carlton and my stepmother determined the match and manipulated her into it.”
Helen scoffed and played with her teacup. “She knew of me,” Helen told Violet without an ounce of sympathy for Isolde. “I found your sister myself, told her that Carlton had promised to marry me, told her he convinced me to bed him based off of that promise.”
Violet played with her ring, wincing for both Helen and Isolde.
Helen sniffed, placing a hand over her stomach as she said, “If you are expecting me to set aside my own concerns to worry over your sister, I’m afraid I don’t have it in me.”
Violet realized that for Helen, Isolde would always be part of the reason of why Helen’s fate shifted. There wasn’t going to be some quick-witted comment or series of leading questions that made Helen change her mind. So how to get her help? What did she need?
The answer came so suddenly to Vi that she was speaking before she thought it through.
“What if I were to offer you a quiet villa by the sea on the Amalfi coast? It is private, far from here, has a won
derful view. It’s very sunny in Italy. It would be easy enough to bring a midwife masquerading as a maid and hide yourself away until a certain day arrives.”
Helen’s mouth twisted. “My secrets for a refuge?”
“The full use of the villa for a year in exchange for whatever you know about Danvers. You could bring your sister.”
“What do I do with the”—Helen struggled for a moment—“bundle?”
That Violet wasn’t so sure of. Did Helen search for a good home? Did she try to find some childless couple that would take the babe in? Did she persuade her father to take on the child? Did she keep it herself and face being ostracized?
“What do you want to do?”
Helen’s laugh was humorless. “Go back in time and never go out of the house with Carlton Danvers. Scream and throw a fit when my father suggested it. I grabbed at the opportunity like a drowning person a life preserver.”
Violet winced. Not for what had happened so much as for the self-loathing in Helen’s voice. “I wish I could make that possible for you.”
Helen snorted in reply.
Violet considered. The question of the child’s fate was one that she didn’t feel qualified to comment on. But it wasn’t going to go away. “Do you feel love for the baby?”
Helen took in a slow breath. “Yes and no. I see her in my mind. This little person. When I imagine her, she’s always a girl. My goodness, Violet, I hate her father. Despise him so much I wish I was the one who struck the killing blow. I hate that she exists. I hate myself for letting it come to this.”
“So you don’t want her?” Violet nudged Helen as the waitress approached and the conversation halted while Violet ordered tea and scones.
“Oh, I want her.” Helen teared up. “But she deserves better than me. Yet I also don’t want her because of all she represents.”
“You could love her. You could raise her. You could take care of her. Find a little village. Be a widow.”
Helen nodded. “I won’t risk my hatred for her father ruining her life. What if, when she arrives, I can’t move past it? What if I can’t love her as she deserves? She’s the biggest victim here. Unwanted from the moment of her conception. I love her enough to have her. I want what is best for her, and it’s not me. Yet, how do I entrust her to someone else?”
It was a question that Violet didn’t have the experience to answer.
“Would you accept the villa and allow me to have someone look into it? See if I can find some family that will look past her origins and love her as she deserves to be loved?”
Helen couldn’t hold back a tear as she asked, “Do you think it’s possible to love a child that isn’t your own? As though they were?”
Violet honored the mother inside of Helen and then answered her honestly. “After my mother died, Victor and I were raised mostly by my mother’s aunt. There was never a day when we felt unloved by her or loved less than other children.”
“But you were her kin.”
“I suppose that’s true enough. But I don’t believe that was why she loved us. She loved us because she…” Violet paused before continuing. “I think it is human nature to love and be loved. She loved us because we were hers to care for and love. She loved us because we needed her to. She loved us because people who are good love those they care for and protect.”
“Will you find someone and make sure that they love her?”
Violet nodded.
“Why am I trusting you with this?” Helen demanded, and then she answered her own question. “Because who else will help me?”
A moment later after they’d both topped off their tea and crumbled a scone without eating a bite, Helen said, “What do you need to know?”
Chapter 18
“Did you know that Danvers was stealing money from those who invested with him?”
Helen’s jaw dropped and she shook her head. “Do you think my father was stealing as well?”
Violet nodded and Helen’s mouth trembled as she stared without comprehension at Violet.
Finally, Helen said, “Father used to tell me, when I asked for something frivolous, that I didn’t understand how hard he worked to provide. What he sacrificed to make sure I was secure. I…my goodness Violet, why would he have said that if he wasn’t stealing. I also thought it was odd. What the devil? Are all men untrustworthy?”
Violet didn’t answer. It wasn’t as though Helen would accept Violet’s opinion on the matter.
“What do you know of Mr. Gulliver?”
Helen stared at her teacup. “He was always rude to me. Treated me like a two-bit whore.” Her hands trembled as she brought her teacup to her mouth. “I should have known how Carlton was talking about me if his friends treated me that way.”
“You should have,” Violet told her. “It’s good that you’re young and beautiful. You’ll have a chance to judge better next time.”
Helen laughed despite herself. “You’re not kind at all, are you? That was utterly without sympathy.”
Vi’s brows rose. “I might feel far more sorry for you if you were homely or truly loved Carlton. But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then I won’t lie to you to make you feel better. That’s how women like us get into these messes. Our friends are so worried about our feelings in the moment, they don’t stop to think that the truth is far kinder than a well-meant lie. We’re not, after all, talking about fringe or no fringe or the way a dress you love wears. We’re talking about things that lead you to where you are today.”
Helen sighed and then looked at Violet almost wonderingly. “I wish you’d been there to knock some sense into me.”
Vi twisted her ring around her finger then rearranged the items on their table as she thought about what else she needed to know.
“Mr. Gulliver invested, so Mr. Danvers couldn't have been all that big of a friend of his.”
Helen thought back. “Well. Yes. That is true. Carlton used to make little asides about him. They were always quite mean.”
Violet played with her ring some more and then asked, “Were you with your father for the whole of the wedding?”
Helen’s head cocked. “You think Papa might have killed Carlton?”
“How would your father feel if he found out that his long-time business partner, entrusted to take his beloved daughter about town, had used that opportunity to romance, manipulate, and impregnate her before throwing her over for a better-connected quarry?”
“I don’t have to wonder that,” Helen said. “He’ll rage. Then stare out the window without hearing your comments. You’ll hear him crying at night, and you’ll know that your actions—stupid as they were—devastated your father. Maybe ruined him.”
Violet reached out then; she couldn’t stop herself. She took Helen’s hand, hoping she wasn’t pushing too far. “I’m sure he blames himself as well.”
“He does! Yet another thing to hate myself for.” Helen searched Vi’s face. “My father didn’t kill Carlton. If he’d known my situation, these last days wouldn’t have been like they are. I have no doubt of it. Papa didn’t know. If he didn’t know about me and he was helping with the stealing for years, why would he murder his partner?”
Violet picked up her teacup and took a long drink. Helen wasn’t going to adjust that story. Vi wasn’t sure she could believe it. It was clear that Helen loved her father and felt guilty. If lying to protect him would do so, Helen would swear the moon was made of cheese and we all lived on the back of a giant turtle—whatever was necessary.
Helen could guess the direction of Violet’s thoughts. “Father never left me the whole time we were at the wedding.”
Such an easy lie.
“Just after we ran into you,” Helen continued, “Father met an old business friend. Oliver Jones. He works for the Bank of England, and we didn’t leave him either. We were seated together, and Father and Mr. Jones discussed business while I tried to stifle my tears about what to do. Mr. Jones noticed I wasn�
�t well and asked after me. He was quite concerned, I think, that I was ill and catching. He’ll tell you. He and Father knew each other from school, not recently. They aren’t so close that they’d lie for each other now.”
That changed everything, didn’t it? Mr. Mathers had been Violet’s primary suspect. The list of suspects narrowed in Violet’s mind. The details of Helen’s father’s distraction were verifiable with servants. The friend could provide an alibi. If Mr. Mathers was removed as the suspect, that left only Mr. Gulliver and Hugo Danvers.
“Tell me about Hugo,” Violet said, leaving the question open so that her prejudices didn’t affect the manner in which Helen spoke of him.
“Oh.” Helen shuddered. “He’s not right.”
“What do you mean?”
“He…it seems as though he felt he was competing with Carlton. Not that they were father and son, but that they were rivals. They hated each other. Carlton hated Hugo, and the reverse was as true.”
“With you too? Did Hugo attempt to…” Vi didn’t bother providing details. There was no question what Vi meant.
Helen shuddered again and nodded. Vi didn’t press her further. But Helen asked, “Was it the same with Isolde?”
Violet was the one who shuddered and nodded that time, and the two of them stared at each other.
There were a few things that Victor would never understand about Vi simply because she was a woman and he a man, but this was something that every woman could understand on the behalf of the other.
“What does he do for a living? Did Carlton support him?”
Helen’s laugh was mean as she shook her head. “I believe he gambled.”
“To live?”
“He went to special places for gamblers. Carlton talked about them. Hugo used to make these comments to Carlton about how bad he was at gambling and then Carlton would get angry. He was always meaner after that. It felt like there was more to know than he’d talk about.”