The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Boxset 1

by Beth Byers

  Violet laughed merrily. “We were clever children, but stupid all the same. I believe we intended to have endless jam tarts, always get up with the sunrise, and never nap again. I took a nap just yesterday, and it was delightful.”

  “Oh look,” Tomas said, pointing to a little chocolate shop. “Remember how we used to filch chocolates from your aunt?”

  Vi nodded, suddenly missing Aunt Agatha fiercely. The loss had gone from nearly unthought of to deep and abiding in a breath, and Violet’s gaze glistened with the pain of it. By the heavens, how Violet wished she could curl up in her aunt’s lap and tell her all that had happened. Those last days had been tinged by suspicion and worry. And when Aunt Agatha’s life had been stolen, they didn’t get their final goodbyes. It wasn’t fair, and on occasion, Violet felt her body couldn’t contain the combination of grief and fury. Little, however, about life was fair.

  “Let’s get some, shall we?”

  Violet and Tomas walked into the little shop and a few minutes later left with rather more chocolates than even their younger selves would have been able to eat. Tomas took a bite of one and handed her the rest. There was something so intimate in the sharing of the same sweet, she paused before she took it.

  Moments like these, moments when she needed to replace her companion with Jack, had been teaching her that what she felt, irrational as it was, was love.

  Tomas looked at her through those thick lashes she’d envied since her youngest days and the smile he gave her went right through her, since it was pain-filled enough to stagger a lesser man.

  “I’m haunted, Vi.”

  She nodded. She knew the feeling. She could only imagine what it felt like for it to be more than brothers or an aunt that crept into her thoughts. For Tomas, it was scores of brothers. Faces blown to bits before him. The sounds of those last, rattling breaths. She squeezed his arm since there was nothing to be said.

  “Everywhere I go is grey and dark. I hear the screams. I…”

  Violet didn’t tell him it would be okay. He didn’t need to be condescended to, and she wasn’t a person who lied because it was easy.

  “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” he asked, after several minutes trying to shake off the ghosts. He tilted the bag of chocolates towards her.

  Violet took one. She wasn’t quite capable of speaking at that moment, so she bit into the gold-dusted creation instead.

  “It’s warm,” he added. “The sun is shining on my face, and I cannot feel it. I feel nothing but the cold of the trenches. I am never warm, Vi. Never.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek, but she ignored it and squeezed his arm again.

  “That’s lessened when you’re around.”

  Violet glanced away, closing her eyes, to hide the rush of feeling. The guilt that even though she loved him, when he asked her to marry him, she would say no.

  He didn’t add to that statement, so they walked on in quiet as they passed the Belgian people going about their lives in the market where they sold their wares. They worked and lived while Violet and Tomas walked through the streets, followed by ghosts that wouldn’t leave them be.

  The bells of the church rang and Tomas jumped, but his hand tightened on hers when she checked to see if he was all right, and he took in the sight of her tears for him before his jaw clenched. He said, “Tell me about Smythe-Hill.”

  Violet shook her head, without saying a word.

  He didn’t press, and the bell tower came ever closer. They walked over a stone bridge covered in greenery with tree branches hanging low.

  “It’s lovely here. Would that London was so perfect.”

  She felt the pressure of Tomas’s wants and recalled Jack’s face to give herself courage.

  Tomas took a seat on the wall between the street and the canal. He patted the spot next to him. Violet sat slowly down, repeating the injunction to herself to be brave. The bell tower overlooked them; the sun was shining; it was possibly the most beautiful place she’d ever been. A perfect location for what was to come. Would that her companion was a different one.

  “Vi,” Tomas started. His gaze was heavy on her. “Vi…”

  “There you are!” The brash Italian voice cut in and Violet leapt with sheer, unadulterated gratitude. Never had Tomas been closer to getting her to say yes when she wished to say no. Especially, surrounded as they were, by their ghosts.

  “I thought you might head this way.” Bettina grinned down into their faces, the brightness not reaching her eyes. “Oh! Chocolates. You do think of me so kindly.”

  Violet bit the inside of her mouth as Bettina took the bag from Tomas and then snuggled into his side. He was a brick wall next to her. Vi choked on a laugh. A slight squeak escaped, and Tomas knew her well enough to nudge her side.

  She glanced up at him, lips twisted in the face of his agony and laughed. She couldn’t stop it.

  “Oh,” Violet said, with a smirk. “How clever you are to find your quarry as you have.”

  Her shoulders were shaking with her silent giggles and Tomas grinned at her despite his irritation.

  “Shall we see the Madonna then?” Bettina demanded. She stood, hauling Tomas to his feet and winding her arm through his. “Are you coming? Or did you wish to rest for longer? British women are so wilting, no?”

  Tomas’s agonized, unvoiced plea had Violet rising. She did not wish to marry him, but she’d be damned if she saw this grasper weasel her way into his life.

  “I shall persevere,” Violet declared, adjusting her hat and taking Tomas’s other arm so that Bettina wasn’t able to claim the victory.

  Bettina shot Violet a furious glance and then turned to Tomas, chattering as he walked woodenly between the ladies.

  It didn’t take long to reach the church and find the marble statue of the Madonna and Child.

  “Oh,” Violet said. “I’ve seen her before, but she steals right into my soul. She’s so lovely.”

  “You British don’t understand Mary,” Bettina declared loudly. “With your dry prayers and stolid little churches.”

  Violet didn’t bother to reply. Michelangelo was a genius, and this piece of brilliance required a long look, lingering, and—preferably—silent. Bettina was already distracted, but Tomas was unmoved by her tugging. Violet ignored them both, staring at Mary.

  “You would think,” Violet told Tomas, “that marble eyes would be dead. But not hers.”

  Bettina scoffed and moved away while Violet stared at the mother and the beautiful babe at her knee. Mary made Violet desire a child of her own with a sudden fierceness. It was all the more powerful when the man at her side wanted to do nothing more than give her that child. It was not, however, Tomas’s child that she imagined.

  A curly headed version of Jack. Those penetrating eyes filled with Violet’s mischief. What an adventure that would be!

  Violet moved on, pausing again for quite a while to stare up at the arches and crosses. The church was one of the most beautiful on earth, she was sure.

  “To be remembered like this, yes?” Bettina demanded at the gold-encrusted tombs of Charles the Bold and his daughter. “This gold, I should like it in my hair.”

  Violet smiled politely and moved on. They made their way back out of the church and along the canals with Bettina pressing her chest into Tomas’s arm and Violet giggling under her breath.

  When they reached the rooms her siblings had rented, Violet said, “Victor and I return to England soon.”

  Tomas glanced swiftly at Violet while Bettina said, “Oh. Passing each other on our travels. It is too bad, no?” Her tone was, however, exultant.

  “Vi,” Tomas said, “I just got here.”

  “I know,” Violet said, biting her lip. She felt terrible about that, and it was in her tone. “I’m sorry, Tomas. I must…I wrote you about the villa,” Violet said. She knew he’d catch the reference to the expectant mother.

  He nodded.

  “It must be handled.” The baby needed a home. A good one. Nothing else would
do.

  There was no arguing with the pressure of that clock and no delaying it. He nodded once again.

  “When will you be leaving?”

  “Victor was to get passage on a boat leaving the day after tomorrow. Isolde and Gerald are staying for a few more weeks before going to Monaco. I…I’m sorry, Tomas. I really am.”

  “Oh, let’s go there, yes?” Bettina insisted of Tomas. “Monaco is just the place.”

  Tomas ignored her, his gaze searching Violet’s. “There is much at home that draws your attention.”

  So he’d heard the rumors of the earl’s daughter and the Detective Inspector? How did they always miss the fact that Jack investigated because he was good at it and not because he must? His former commander and longtime friend pulled Jack in when his skills were needed. That was all. How did they miss the fact that Jack was rich in his own right and had no more need to pursue Violet for her fortune than he did any woman? He was not a man who would marry a woman for her money, and yet that was the way the story was told.

  Violet did not reply to the question in Tomas’s gaze, but Bettina’s gaze sharpened with curiosity. With a woman’s clever intuition, she demanded, “There is a love back in England, yes? Someone who occupies your thoughts and your heart? This is good. You should marry and settle down. Already you have lines under your eyes. Your bloom is fading. It does fade earlier with British women.”

  Violet smiled politely. “It was a lovely walk, Tomas. So…nice…to be hunted down by you, Bettina. Meeting you again has been a curious adventure.”

  Bettina flushed at the accurate insinuation, but her gaze was triumphant as she pressed her chest into Tomas’s arm. If only Bettina could see the disgust on Tomas’s face. Perhaps then, she would let Tomas be and turn her attention to a more likely quarry.

  Chapter 4

  Rain was pouring hard and fierce when their trunks were taken out of their rooms to be sent down to the ship on the morning of their departure. Of their servants, Beatrice was excited to go home and Giles seemed utterly indifferent.

  “I shall miss you so,” Isolde wailed into Violet’s arms.

  “Suddenly I am the world’s best sister. Don’t worry, dear one. Gerald will buy you gowns as well. We shall torture young Isla in our next story to ease the parting.”

  Isolde shot Violet a stifling glance. “Why do I like you?”

  “Worship me, I think you mean,” Violet countered. She broke away from Isolde and kissed Gerald’s cheek. “Sally forth with the might of the kingdom behind you, dear one. You shall need it to lead about this one.”

  “Oh!” Isolde nearly stomped her foot before catching herself.

  Violet handed her sister a box. “Open it later. I shall miss you.”

  “And I you.” Isolde sniffled.

  “Don’t worry,” Victor told their little sister, kissing her cheek, “we shall send you the latest adventures of Isla. You can use them as a guide for your own.”

  “You are right. Parting with you eases with each passing moment,” Isolde told them.

  Victor’s twitching lips made clear that she’d guessed their intent.

  “Come, darling one,” Victor said to Violet. “No doubt Beatrice and Giles have arranged things just so. We must board our vessel, throw ourselves into the journey. It shall only be a short one, but I am afraid I didn’t pay much attention to our arrival location beyond the shores of home. We shall be going to Ramsgate. Perhaps we should take a drive through Wickhambreaux?”

  Violet flushed, to his delight. Jack Wakefield had grown up there.

  “It’s rather closer to Tomas than I imagined,” Victor said. “Do you think they knew each other?”

  Violet shook her head. She had no idea and certainly wasn’t going to ask either.

  “And how did he take your no?”

  Violet glanced at her brother who, like she, hated that Tomas was suffering and, like she, was helpless to fix it.

  “He didn’t get to ask,” Violet admitted. “That Italian woman appeared rather like the destroying angel.”

  “Destroying or saving?” Victor asked.

  The twins had discussed time and again Tomas’s feelings, and more than once Victor had told her to be blunt. She felt she had been previously. She’d carefully laid down her thoughts, but Tomas couldn’t accept them, so he set them aside and went back to hoping.

  “He’s so stubborn!”

  “He is rather fixated on you. He always has been.”

  “He’d have stopped it by now if not for the war,” Vi groaned, laying her head on Victor’s shoulder.

  “Many things would be different, sweet one, if not for the war.”

  The twins boarded the boat and as they did, they both froze as they heard Bettina Marino moan, “Darling, we just got to Belgium. Surely we could go to France instead? Or perhaps Liechtenstein? Venice is always lovely. Better than Bruges, yes? Let’s go there.”

  At the top of the gangplank, they turned back to see Tomas, along with his slew of hangers-on and Bettina on his arm, pressing herself into his side.

  Whatever Tomas’s initial reply, it was drowned out by an, “Oh! Oh!”

  Tomas had taken hold of Bettina. Violet wondered if he had finally gotten tired of Bettina plastering her body against his.

  Tomas shouted, “Bettina! Go to Liechtenstein! Go to Venice! Go home to Florence! I am going none of those places!”

  “You are chasing that English twig, and she doesn’t want you, mio amore. She wants that yard man and there is nothing you can do about it. Everyone has heard of the earl’s daughter and the yard man. Why chase the twig when she is for another? Am I not woman enough?” Her voice was shrill as she demanded, “More than enough?”

  Violet gasped and Victor groaned, but they both stared in shock as Tomas shouted, “I don’t want you! I have told you this. Were you not chasing poor Algie? Do you think I don’t know you threw him over because you thought I had more money? What about Charles? I’ve seen you looking at him when you think I won’t notice. Foolish woman, leave me be!”

  Bettina brought forth tears and moaned into a ready handkerchief as Tomas pushed her from his arms to a very blond companion. “There, there,” the man said, shooting a nasty glance towards Tomas, who’d stalked off.

  The twins jumped down from the gangplank and hurried forward before they’d have to interact with Tomas after that scene.

  “Oh Victor,” Violet said.

  “He’s not done trying, little love,” Victor told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “It seems your destroying angel didn’t prevent yet another proposal, as they’ve chased us to the ship. Onward and forward, dear one.”

  “Let’s go to our room, please? Before we have to pretend to have not heard that scene.”

  The journey was only a short one, but they’d taken a cabin for each of them. They’d arrive in Ramsgate during the night, and this way they could sleep comfortably and disembark in the morning. Violet threw her hat on a chair and herself on the bed, kicking off her shoes a moment later. The disarray bothered her, but she ignored it, curling up on the bed.

  She had not slept well, haunted by dreams of both her ghosts and Tomas’s. Everyone had been in pieces and no one had been happy. Blood seemed to bathe them until she thought she might drown in it.

  Victor left Violet when Beatrice arrived a few minutes later. With the maid to man the door, Victor went to find Tomas, and Violet let sleep take her.

  As evening approached, Violet dressed for dinner at the captain’s table along with the other first class passengers. She wasn’t feeling particularly bright or happy since her dreams had been no better during her nap than they’d been the night before. At least when she woke, her room was clean, Beatrice was mending stockings near the porthole, and there was both tea and sandwiches. Violet had Beatrice bring in the typewriter and writing desk, and Violet wiled the afternoon away by trying to make a list of business that needed to be completed soon after she got home.

  Her dress
was lovely, though; however, it was black. Black with sleeves that came just below her elbow, peeked through to her skin with black silk lining to cover the pertinent bits and black beads. She wore a set of long black jet beads.

  “You, sweet one, need black pearls,” Victor said as he held out his arm to her. “I think I’ll get them for you. Our birthday is coming soon. I have a little something else in the works, of course. But it strikes me that black pearls are just the thing.”

  “Funny,” Violet said merrily, “I was thinking I’d get you a cigarette. Just one. Or perhaps a new pair of wool socks. Or, I know, a little monkey. The kind that our grandmother carried around on her shoulder.”

  “You know that monkey bit me,” Victor protested. “I still dream about that little beastie. He swings through my dreams, with my tin soldier in his grubby paw, laughing at me from the curtains.”

  Violet slowly grinned as Victor led her away from her cabin.

  “I know you better than that. You’ve got something in the works for me. Practical, because you are the business-minded one. And I am the frivolous one who buys jewelry.”

  Violet shot him a look then mimicked him. “Actually, I think you mean I buy jewelry because it’s easy. I remember your birthday because it’s mine, dear sister. Then I walk over to some jewelry store, pick something out, and grin engagingly.”

  Victor laughed at her imitation. Then his tone turned careful. “I have news darling.” Violet paused, turning back to him. He wore a blue suit with a blue and white striped shirt. His shoes shone in the light of the hallway, having been polished by the reliable Giles. His perfect veneer did not match the way he was not quite meeting her gaze.

  Violet’s expression was knowing. “What have you done?”

  “You know that you’re my favourite person, sweet one.”

  Violet cocked her head at Victor and raised a solitary brow.

  “I can’t say no to him,” Victor pled. “Love me still, please.”