by Beth Byers
Tomas started and looked at the twins with clouded eyes that didn’t quite see them. Violet and Victor glanced at each other. Things weren’t looking positive.
Violet put Juliette’s drink in her trembling hand and kept near her until their mutual shaking had ceased. Once Juliette seemed gathered, Violet excused herself to join her brother. Victor handed her a second drink with a murmur. “There may not be enough cocktails to navigate these fraught waters. Do you feel as though everyone is wearing a mask?”
Violet glanced at her brother, noted his clenching jaw, and placed her hand on his arm.
“Yes, all of them. Even Tomas, that fiendish brother, poor Juliette.”
“Is Miss Boutet all right?” Victor asked softly.
Violet shook her head. Too many women wore that mask. She took a sip of her cocktail. “Is that the orange liqueur?” The question wasn’t because she cared but because she needed to think of something else. “I so look forward to our own house.”
“As do I,” Victor said grimly, but he wouldn’t let the matter drop. “She might be all right, but her brother is in danger of a severe beating.”
Violet glanced towards François Boutet. She had to put on her own mask as she looked him over. He was tall, slim, and his eyes were darting between his sister and Mr. Stroud with the occasional frown towards Bettina Marino. Mr. Boutet’s gaze fixed on his sister with rage.
Was he upset that his sister hadn’t succumbed to Mr. Stroud or was he upset that she had been caught by Stroud?
The butler was maneuvering through the guests and Violet crossed to him. “How are things, Mr. Hull?”
He had a tight expression about his eyes. “My lady…”
“Oh, Mr. Hull, be brave,” she told him. “Better to torment her now and get rid of her than have her win the war and be saddled with her.”
He shuddered at that.
“Moments like these are why you are priceless,” she told him, “and why Mr. St. Marks counts on you so. You and the rest of the staff.”
The dinner was awkward. Tomas was jumpy, and Violet guessed something had happened to trigger his ghosts. He seemed as though he were entirely unaware of what was happening.
It didn’t help that Bettina was furious and so loud, Violet wished to shove a handkerchief into the woman’s mouth. Violet cleared her throat and stared at her brother until he glanced her way. Her gaze moved to Bettina, and then Vi raised her brow at Victor.
He knew what she wanted, winced, and drained his glass before he turned a charming smile on Bettina.
“Tomas,” Violet asked softly. She was seated at his right, and she took his wine glass, draining it. She shook her head at Mr. Hull when he stepped forward to refill it. She raised a brow, and he nodded. Only a minute later he placed a new glass in front of Tomas, filled with water.
He didn’t even seem to notice the switch as he drained it.
“Do you remember,” Violet asked lightly, “that time when we were children and we decided that we needed to pool our funds and buy as many raspberry tarts as possible from the bakery?”
Tomas blinked in her direction, not seeing her, and she kept talking with her hand on his wrist. She described the taste of the tarts, the way the sun had shone down on them, running through the woods near the stream to swim after eating them. As she spoke, Tomas stared in her direction, slowly coming back to himself.
He stared around the dining room as if surprised to find them there. “Vi…”
“Tomas,” she replied merrily, squeezing his wrist.
“I…this…I’m sorry.”
“Tomas,” Violet repeated, so low that only he could hear her. “I will jabber at you as often as you need.”
He shuddered and whispered back, “My house is at war. I feel like I’ve been invaded by shrieking geese.”
“A war we’ll win,” she said cheerily and then added a little louder, “Tomas, I need your assistance with some business matters. Do you think that you could travel back to London when Victor and I go?”
“Yes,” Victor said, having caught enough of the invitation to talk around Bettina. “I also have some ideas about things that I need your advice on.”
“Enough business,” Bettina declared, her gaze narrowing. “I’m sure we’d all be happy to go with you to London.”
Victor smiled down at her, but the lion was in his gaze as he asked, “Oh, were you thinking of coming to London as well?”
She fluttered her lashes at him. “We can’t have our friendship come to such a swift end.”
Victor cocked his head. “Well, perhaps we’ll run into each other there.”
Bettina’s gaze narrowed and she turned to Tomas, but Victor drew her attention back to him. Her anger hadn’t faded, but she was trying to hide it behind her allure.
“Tomas,” Violet said idly, “how do you feel about Monaco?”
“I don’t know that I have thoughts about Monaco,” he said.
“You should think on it,” Violet said. “I have need of your assistance in Monaco as well.”
Violet was dancing with Tomas when Jack arrived. When the song came to an end, they headed to the side of the room and Jack appeared through the cigarette smoke clouding the air.
“Hullo,” Tomas said, staring in confusion at Jack as if wondering whether they knew each other. Maybe they did? Perhaps he recognized Jack and didn’t realize why. Perhaps Tomas wasn’t quite certain what was happening around him and was confused by the people in his house.
“Tomas, my friend, this is Jack Wakefield. Jack, Tomas St. Marks.”
Tomas’s jaw clenched and when they shook hands, Tomas attempted to crush Jack’s hand while pretending to smile. Violet sighed and Tomas glanced at her. There was a crashing sound from the band and Tomas leapt in his skin, a look of horror crossing his face. He blinked stupidly down at Violet, then said shakily, “Hot in here, inn’t? I think I’ll get some air.”
There was another crash from the band, the trumpeter tripping over something and landing against the fellow with a bass. Tomas rushed out of the room. She looked after him, worried, and glanced around for Victor, but if he were there, she couldn’t find him.
Jack examined Violet’s face, followed her gaze after Tomas, and with a clenched jaw, Jack asked Violet to dance as the band got themselves put back together.
The feel of his hands against her back, on her waist, jerked her attention from Tomas, and Vi grinned up at Jack as the music started. They danced through song after song until Violet declared, “I must have a drink.”
Tomas had placed a cart for making drinks in the room along with having servants circulating with trays of cocktails. The cart was for Victor, but Violet and Jack made use of it. Violet popped a piece of ice into her mouth while Jack created them a cocktail.
“So, Tomas,” Jack said as he shook the cocktail shaker that he’d filled with cognac, orange liqueur, and lemon juice. Violet put ice in the cups for them and he filled their drinks. “He is the man who offered for you? The reason you could say you didn’t kill your aunt?”
Violet knew that Jack remembered. She was wondering why he said it with such bite. Was it because she was here with Tomas? She could understand that. She had to admit that she wouldn’t have been delighted to discover him at the home of a woman who had been chasing him.
The anger in his voice, however, triggered a corresponding fury in Violet that caused her to say sharply, “I didn’t kill my aunt.” It wasn’t so much her words as her anger that had Jack glancing at her.
He searched her face. “Yes, I know. Of course.”
“So, Tomas’s offer or lack thereof…”
“I—” Jack started, but yet again, one of Bettina’s shrieks interrupted.
They turned and saw Juliette and Bettina struggling together. Her hands were clawed and aimed towards the dancer’s face with Juliette holding Bettina back by her wrists. A broken cocktail glass was at their feet, the glass and drink sprayed around their feet. With the second shriek, the ban
d came to a screeching stop as the guests turned to stare at the commotion.
The audience only seemed to enliven Bettina, who screamed, “Whore!”
Juliette replied, but she spoke too low for Violet to hear.
Bettina’s reply was another furious, “Whore! Thief!”
Even though Juliette was smaller than Bettina, Juliette didn’t have any trouble holding the Italian off. Bettina was all curves whereas Juliette was an athlete. A moment later, it came to an end when Charles Stroud hooked his arm around Bettina’s waist and hauled her off. He chuckled, seemingly delighted by the fight. Bettina in hand, he nodded to the band and pulled her from the room.
The music started again with a screech.
“What kind of people are you spending your time with?” Jack asked Violet.
Violet glanced at him, saw disgust in his face, and had to bite back a furious response. She wasn’t going to defend Tomas to Jack. Or Tomas’s companions. Not because Tomas didn’t deserve it, but because she didn’t deserve it. She didn’t have to explain anything.
She grabbed her cocktail.
“Vi…” Jack started, taking hold of her bicep, but she twisted away.
She tossed her cocktail back and said, “Oh, look, Lila. How I’ve missed her.”
Violet walked away from him and towards Lila and Denny, who were standing near a window watching the dancing. John and Gwennie were on the dance floor, but Violet just needed to move before she lashed out at Jack and regretted it later. She was already regretting being stupid enough to put Jack and Tomas in the same room. Especially with Tomas as fragile as he was.
“Uh oh,” Lila said when she took in Violet’s expression. “These people of Tomas are quite…interesting aren’t they? I find myself fascinated by them and cannot wait to see what they’ll do next. The fact that they’ve left the room makes me quite want to wander the halls for the next episode.”
Violet smiled at her friends, laughing at Lila, but it was a pure lie and they all knew it.
“Jack,” Lila whispered a moment later to warn Violet that he was approaching. “Isn’t the music lovely?” she said aloud. “I do love a good trumpet player.”
Violet winded her arms through Lila’s. She glanced at Jack. Behind him, she took in an entirely unexpected sight and screamed as though the hounds of hell were coming for her.
Jack responded without thinking. He grabbed Violet, yanking her from Lila and shoving her behind his back as he turned to face the threat.
Violet wormed away, darting around Jack and ignoring his shout as she threw herself at the man who’d stumbled into the room, startling her so. “Tomas?”
“Violet!” Jack shouted.
Tomas clutched her like a drowning man. He dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed his face into her stomach. His trembling was terrifying, and Violet was well aware that he was stuck in his memories, fighting ghosts that only he could see.
The music had stopped at Violet’s scream, and the dancers stared in horror at Violet being held by the blood-covered Tomas. The whispers started, the low questions to each other. “Is that blood? Is that Tomas? Who is that girl? Are they together? Whose blood is that?”
Violet ignored all of the questions and placed her hand in Tomas’s hair. “Tomas?”
He shuddered in reply, finally asking, “Vi?” He asked like a scared child. “Vi, is that really you? I used to imagine you when I was so cold in the trenches. When…oh God, Vi. There was so much blood. There’s always so much blood. So much I could taste it. Pieces of my friends on my skin. Oh God, Vi…” He looked up her. “Am I really home? Is this real?”
Violet ignored everyone and dropped to her knees in front of Tomas, her skin crawling at the blood she could feel, the smell of it, the…was she tasting it too?
She cupped his face between her two palms. “Tomas, this is real. You are home. This is your house. Mrs. Newstone will have Cook make jam tarts, and we’ll eat them until we’re sick.”
A tear rolled down his cheek. “Do you promise?”
She nodded. “I promise, my friend. I promise. You’re home. The war is over.”
“But I’m so cold.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She glanced at Jack and hissed to him. “Get these people out of here.”
Lila acted even when Jack didn’t.
“Out,” Lila snapped. “Out this way. Come on now.”
Violet gave Tomas her full attention. “We should think about swimming again. Remember when we’d jump in and see who could dunk the others the most? Remember the way the water felt against your skin? The sun overhead? The way we’d swim until our muscles ached and then we’d lay in the sun to dry? Only to go home and get in so much for trouble for looking like gypsy children? Silly adults, we looked like children who’d played the day away.”
“Violet,” Jack interrupted. “He’s bloody!”
“I know,” Violet hissed. “I know.”
She didn’t even know what she was saying after that, only that she talked and Tomas slowly came back to himself.
“Blood, Vi, so much blood.”
“Whose is it?”
“It’s…it’s…it’s…Bettina. It’s Bettina.”
“Bettina? Where?”
“The folly, Vi. Bloody hell, Vi. She was still alive. I tried. I tried to help. Just like with Tommy. With Chuck. With Ben. He was so young. The little blighter had to have lied to join up. I can still see their faces. I can see them every time I close my eyes. Why was Bettina bloody? The war is over. It’s over. You promised. You said I was all done.”
Tomas was crying and Violet cried with him. She looked up at Jack, tears rolling down her face as Tomas rocked back and forth, arms still clutched around her waist.
“Victor can show you where,” Violet told Jack.
“Victor isn’t here,” Jack said. “We have to find her. If she was alive…”
“I can help,” Denny said. “I know where the folly is.”
Jack started snapping orders to the servants finishing with, “Get the police here.”
Chapter 10
Violet sang to Tomas until Mr. Hull and Victor arrived. Lullabies, humming without words, until her voice was hoarse fighting back the sound of weeping to give Tomas the comfort of a song instead.
“He won’t get better until the blood is gone, my lady. Let me take him.”
Violet nodded and Mr. Hull lifted Tomas up like a baby to carry him out of the empty party room. Violet watched them go until Victor squatted down by her. “Vi? Darling?”
She slowly turned to him and gasped, “Look at all this blood. How did he stand it? Over and over again? Friend after friend?”
“Darling, he didn’t stand it. That’s why he is like he is.” Victor pulled on Violet until she stood and then he lifted her into his arms.
“Let’s get that off of you, shall we? You’ll feel so much better when it’s gone.”
“I think I can taste it too.”
“Then you’ll need to brush your teeth first,” Victor said grimly. He tried and failed for a cheery tone. “Though I’m certain there is no blood in your mouth, sweet sister.”
Victor carried Violet to her bedroom through a side door, avoiding where the party goers had been taken. The hall on the other side of the door was empty but for the housekeeper.
Victor almost groaned with relief when he saw Mrs. Newstone. “Beatrice, immediately. Then both brandy and tea. Right now, please.”
“Of course, Mr. Victor.”
Victor hurried to Violet’s room and set her down on a chair. He walked into her bath to turn the water on. When he came back into her bedroom, Beatrice had arrived.
Violet knew she was shaking, that her mind wasn’t working quite right. The reality of being covered in Bettina’s blood had sent her mind for a spiral where she couldn’t quite grasp the nature of her thoughts.
Beatrice took one look at Vi. “Oh, no.”
“She’ll be all right,” Vict
or said. “She just needs the blood off.”
Vi rose. “I just need….” She shook her head and walked into the bath. She had blood on her hands. She scrubbed at them until the water ran clean and then took the toothbrush that Victor handed her. Beatrice pulled on Violet here and there until Violet realized that her jewelry had been removed. Violet brushed her teeth until Victor took her toothbrush away.
At some point, Tomas must have grabbed her hair, and she could feel it hardening with blood. Violet yanked off her headband, kicked off her shoes, and stared helplessly at the bath. She shut the door to block Victor, stripped off her dress, and dropped into the water.
Victor had done a terrible job filling the bath and the water was cold. Little matter. Violet slathered her body with soap once, rinsed, washed again, rinsed, and then she let the water out of the tub. Kneeling in the draining water, she washed her body again.
“My lady?” Beatrice asked. “My lady. Do you need anything?”
Violet started the water, rinsing out the tub, and then filling it again. “Brandy, please.”
“She must be doing better,” Victor said from the bedroom, “if she’s ready for a drink.”
Her twin sounded as though he were grasping at straws, and he was because she was very much not doing better.
Violet lay back in the bath, adding bubbles to the water. She’d already washed her hair twice, but she started for a third time with the hottest water she could stand. She would have lingered in the water, but Victor needed to think she was all right before he could go track down whether or not Bettina had survived and just what was happening. Violet washed her body again, rinsed again, and rose, drying quickly before donning her robe.
She rubbed a towel over her hair and walked back into her bedroom. “I’m fine, Victor. Go see what is happening.”
Victor had changed while she bathed. He examined her face. “If I go…you will lock this door for anyone but me and Jack.”