by Beth Byers
She looked lovely. Not just on the exterior, but on the interior. Violet wished she’d known this version of her stepmother rather than the one who had always seen Vi and Victor as competition for her own offspring. Surely Father had love enough for them all? But Eleanor had always been jealous of whatever affection Father had had for the twins, She was the type to do her duty when it came to the twins, but she was quick to push them to school and their holidays with Aunt Agatha.
Violet tapped on the door of her stepmother’s room and reminded herself of all the good things. She had tried to encourage them into security. She truly did feel that marriage was the best choice for a woman and had never tried to push Violet into the mess that had landed Isolde. Why had Eleanor let it come to that with Isolde?
“Yes?”
Violet opened the door enough to stick her head in. “Hullo there, I was hoping you felt well enough for me to stop in?”
Eleanor scowled at Violet. “I suppose you’ve come to gloat? You were right about Carlton. I was wrong.”
It took Violet a moment to remember that Carlton was Danvers’ first name.
“No, of course not,” Violet told her gently, keeping the good memories at the forefront of her mind. “I’ve always known that you saw marriage as the best for Isolde and myself. Mr. Danvers presented security for her.”
Lady Eleanor sniffled into a lace handkerchief. “He did. I was just doing my best. How was I supposed to know he was a bounder?”
Violet refrained from pointing out that she’d also disregarded the objections of her husband, her eldest stepson, and her daughter all to see Isolde married to a man who seemed to be wealthy. Money before all else.
“Father has decided that Isolde would do well to keep close to Victor’s house and then spend some time overseas. We’ve selected Bruges since it will be an out-of-the-way place to let things die down.”
Lady Eleanor sniffled again. “Will you be bringing any of your friends? Isn’t Victor quite good friends with that St. Marks heir? He might do well for Isolde.”
Violet turned to close the door and hide her expression. Firstly, Tomas was in love with Violet. Secondly, he was still recovering from the horrors of the war. Thirdly, he was astoundingly wealthy. All Lady Eleanor would care about was, of course, the wealth. At least he was only a couple years older than the twins rather than decades older than Isolde.
Violet smiled a reply since she couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t set off her stepmother. Vi seated herself in the chair next to the bed, noted the teapot and refilled a cup for her stepmother, then rang the bell for a fresh pot.
By the time she escaped Kennington House, she’d be swimming in tea, but Lady Eleanor was always more likely to gossip over tea. Violet thought it might just be muscle memory since many a morning, Lady Eleanor was usually doing just that with her friends.
Vi ordered tea from the maid who arrived.
“You do looked peaked, Lady Eleanor,” Violet said. “Perhaps Victor and I can hunt up some favorite chocolates? Those would cheer you, wouldn’t they?”
Lady Eleanor softened at the idea of it and mentioned a few favorites. “Is my Isolde recovering well? The poor thing. To lose her betrothed on her wedding day!”
Ah, Violet thought, they were going to ignore the decision to call off the wedding. For the best, perhaps, given the results of the day.
“She is quite upset,” Violet said. “She had to take a sleeping pill to rest after she had a good cry yesterday.”
“She must be asking for me,” Lady Eleanor said, and Violet nodded fervently.
“Nothing helps like the touch and care of a mother,” Vi agreed, “but she knows Papa wants her out of the house, away from the scene, and tucked up tight. Victor’s house is quite nice, you know. Large and well-appointed.”
Lady Eleanor let Vi change the subject to the number of rooms, the size of the garden, the likelihood of rain. When Lady Eleanor seemed in quite a good mood, Violet asked, “Did Hugo Danvers bother Isolde before?”
Lady Eleanor frowned at the question. “Why would he?”
“He came by to see how Isolde was doing,” Violet told her.
“Quite properly,” Lady Eleanor stated firmly.
“He seemed to be…enchanted by her.”
Lady Eleanor’s instinctive reaction to assume Violet was incorrect seemed to fight with her desire to have her daughter acknowledged as the most lovely and chanting of young ladies. Finally she said, “He did seem to spend quite a lot of time with his father and Carlton’s friends. You know, he didn’t work with his father. I always thought that was odd. Here was Carlton with his successful business and Hugo insisted on going his own way.”
Violet took a sip of her tea and made sure to cock her head inquisitively as Lady Eleanor brought up the sons who took after their fathers and worked the family business and estates. She seemed to have adjusted the past to ignore the fact that Danvers had been a fraud.
Violet let Lady Eleanor carry on about one of her friend’s sons who insisted on pursuing the church even though such a course was no longer in fashion.
“It isn’t 1804, now is it?” Lady Eleanor laughed into her handkerchief at the expense of the homely Cecil Brown who had returned from the war changed.
Violet’s thoughts regarding everything Lady Eleanor had said wouldn’t have helped the situation, so she listened without a word.
When Lady Eleanor paused, Violet asked, “Did you know Helen Mathers?”
“The daughter of the assistant?” Lady Eleanor’s hands pressed together tightly, fingers digging into her flesh, and Violet could see her stepmother had known exactly who Helen had been to Danvers.
Violet didn’t press further on their relationship and simply said, “I understand she’s fallen ill. Her father has taken her out of town.”
“The girl needs to be reined in. Hopefully he will see to it. Wild. This is what comes of letting young ladies think they’re as capable as young men.”
Violet snapped her mouth shut and refilled Lady Eleanor’s cup before fluffing the pillows behind her. “What does Hugo Danvers do for a living?” Violet asked.
“I don’t know, actually,” Lady Eleanor said. “Carlton and Hugo spent enough time together, but there didn’t seem to be love lost between them. Perhaps Hugo just lived off of his father. They were sneaky about the way they felt. You had to be paying attention. Isolde…” Lady Eleanor’s comment cut off, and Violet suddenly wondered if her stepmother knew that Hugo had feelings for Isolde.
Had Vi’s sister turned to her mother for help in dealing with Hugo? If so…then Lady Eleanor had failed again.
“I don’t care for him,” Vi said.
“You have been remarkably pleasant this afternoon, Vi. But I think I will nap. Your father states we must leave tomorrow and I must gather my strength.”
“Of course.” Violet pressed her stepmother’s hand and rose to go.
“Just a word to the wise, dear,” Lady Eleanor said, stopping Violet before she was more than a step or two from the bed. “Your father has heard of the flirtation between yourself and the Scotland Yard detective.”
Violet’s head cocked and she asked, “Oh?”
“He disapproves heartily.”
Violet’s mouth twisted and she said, “Thank you for letting me know.”
Lady Eleanor sipped her tea and then set it on the table next to her bed before she asked, “So you’ll be ending things, I assume.”
Violet played with the ring on her finger. “Well, no. I like him very much. We are in the early days, and he may well lose interest when Victor and I leave for with Isolde, but I suspect that should he call again, I would be very amiably inclined to join him for dancing, indeed.”
“Your father will hear of this,” Lady Eleanor threatened.
“We have already spoken of it,” Violet said simply and left so she didn’t have to be there when her stepmother realized she’d been caught in a lie. Violet had never seen the way she use
d Father as a stick to prod the children along where she wanted them to go, but she suspected that she’d been the victim a time or two.
She made her way down the stairs and to the hall by the front door and found Victor with a bandaged hand and a scowl on his face.
“Were you magnificent?”
“Of course,” he said. “Stings like the dickens.”
Violet laughed. “It is a good things we brought Giles to see us safely home. Injured as you were in the pursuit of truth. And what was the verdict?”
Victor scowled at Violet before he admitted, “Keeled over like a felled tree. Just as Father said.”
“Let’s go, shall we? I feel the need of fresh air.”
Violet told him of her conversation with Lady Eleanor while they drove back to London. It was a long ride, and Violet had brought her journal with her. She sketched out her thoughts while Victor slept. Her original list of suspects had read:
Helen Mathers
Harry Mathers
Markus Kennington
Norman Kennington
Mr. Gulliver
Mr. Higgins
Hugo Danvers
Henry Carlyle
Violet ran over each of them in her mind. Helen Mathers, like Violet and Isolde, was too weak to have committed the crime. Given the way she’d tried to kill herself after his death, she must have had the final hope for a future fade with his death.
Harry Mathers was supposedly a good church man who took careful care of his daughters beyond trusting his long-time partner too much with his child. If he did not realize the state of his daughter, why would he have killed Danvers? Unlike the rest of the people involved in the investment scheme, Mathers had a good likelihood of knowing that the scheme was a sham.
Violet had written a letter to Harry Mathers. She’d mentioned in that letter her concerns about his relationship with Danvers, but if she had been successful, Mathers had brought his daughter to the house where he would have murdered his partner.
Violet didn’t see that as happening. Had he intended to challenge Danvers on the reality? Mathers had time enough to do that before the wedding day. If he had shown up intending to kill Danvers, he would have left his daughter home.
Violet very much wanted to talk to Helen. So many people knew of her existence as Danvers’ lady friend. What had Helen known? She wasn’t blind and dumb as people so often assumed of young girls like Helen. Violet made a wager with herself that she’d be able to get details from Helen than Mr. Barnes or Jack would be capable of getting Helen to reveal.
Markus Kennington was next on Violet’s list. He hadn’t been happy with Vi and Victor’s questions, but Father’s point about Markus’ fortune weighed heavily on Vi’s mind. The truth of the matter was that a man who had to button-up might give someone a good beating, but he wouldn’t necessarily murder that person. That would ruin far more than economizing. His children were young. They weren’t in a position of needing a start or even requiring very expensive schooling.
Violet played with her ring as she watched London take form. It was dank and grey that day, and she wanted to be at the sea. She sighed and glanced back down at her list. She felt certain that Victor’s experiment vindicated Norman Kennington, especially since he hadn’t lost everything. Like Markus, Norman might take a financial blow, but in the end, he’d be all right.
Mr. Gulliver. That one paused Violet. Mr. Fredericks had said that both Mr. Higgins and Mr. Gulliver were positioned to lose everything, and Violet had seen Mr. Gulliver physically pursuing Danvers. She couldn’t remove him from her list.
She’d love to know what Jack had discovered about both Higgins and Gulliver, seeing as how she couldn’t just show up at their house as she had done at the Mathers’ house. Violet sighed. She was no more able to cross them off of her list than she was able to expand upon them.
But what about Hugo? Violet’s first instinct was to circle his name and underline it. She knew, however, that was because she didn’t like him. If she paused and considered his behavior, how much of his father’s income had he been counting on inheriting? Did Hugo know it was all stolen? If the scheme failed, would Hugo be able to slide away with the stolen funds and leave everyone else with an empty bag?
The last name was her father, but Violet was certain that her father had not killed Danvers. He’d simply have ruined Danvers’ good name and, in so doing, his business.
Chapter 17
Violet was dressing for an evening out when Isolde entered her bedroom. “I suppose it would be very improper of me to go dancing with you.”
Violet grinned at her sister. “Well darling, it would be. You must pretend to mourn for at least two weeks. Surely by then they’ll have a good idea of who killed that blighter you escaped, and we’ll be able to go on our trip. Did you start reading the book about Belgium?”
Isolde nodded and sat on the writing table where Violet’s typewriter as covered and her journal was tucked into the drawer with her favorite pen. She looked rather glum as she watched Vi put on her finery.
“Dancing isn’t a past time that is going anyway, love. We’ll go with you so often you’ll be begging to remain abed with a treatise on manners and housekeeping.”
Isolde’s snort of laughter was just what Violet was looking for. She turned on the stool in front of her vanity and said, “Darling one, don’t be sad.”
“Oh I suppose I’m not so sad. It’s likely enough that I’d get to the club and wish to go home and whimper into my pillow.”
Violet laughed merrily and put on her makeup. She was wearing her kimono and Isolde exclaimed over it when Violet rose to examine her dresses. Violet pulled out a black dress with shimmering gold detailing. It had straps at the shoulders, a low waist, with a hem that was higher in the front that the back. It would show of her pretty diamond-buckled shoes.
The second option had lacy, sleeveless straps, jagged uneven hems that reached her mid-calf only at the longest points, and it was entirely gold.
Vi loved them both but let Isolde choose, and she chose the gold dress, a braided gold head piece with a peacock feather to one side, and gold and pearl ear bobs. Violet wrapped her favorite long strand of pearls around her neck a few times, and added a diamond choker from Aunt Agatha’s collection. With several diamond bracelets, Violet shimmered with each breath.
“You look like Aphrodite or some other goddess,” Isolde said with wide eyes.
Violet laughed and kissed each of her sister’s cheeks before she put on red lipstick and placed a black and gold wrap around her shoulders.
“Thank you, darling,” Vi said happily.
“Where will you go?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Victor and Denny seem to have a mission to sleuth out the best places for jazz, drinks, and dancing. They do all right at it too.”
Vi joined her brother in the foyer and he said, ”The others will meet us there, luv. And don’t you look like a golden drop of sunshine.”
Vi grinned and replied, “You look rather smashing yourself. I am utterly thrilled to be escaping the gloom of this case. For the first time since we’ve been back to England, I feel as though we’ve come home.”
Victor laughed.
They drove across London to a club where he’d reserved a table for them. They entered to a cloud of smoke and dim lights. Violet left her bag and shawl with the girl at the desk and then let her brother lead her through the crowd. It was noisy and smoke-filled but buzzed with an energy that had Violet bouncing on her toes as they were seated by a slender, black man with a magnificent set of eyebrows. She grinned at him, and he winked before leaving them at the table. It took Violet a moment to realize that the form she’d thought at first was Denny was, in fact, Jack.
“Jack! You look dashing! I wasn’t expecting you.”
He’d already ordered drinks and handed her a gin and tonic with another for Victor. “I hope the surprise is acceptable?”
She laughed and nodded as the girl on the stage started a song that
captured Violet’s attention for a moment before she said, “Oh isn’t her voice lovely.”
“I went ahead and ordered nibbles as well,” Jack told Victor.
Her brother nodded but added to the order. “I might look slender, but I could always eat.”
The first number ended and Jack pulled Vi onto the floor. She shivered in delight. They danced until she wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed, but when he suggested stopping for a breather and a drink, and she was famished for food and desperately thirsty.
When they returned to the table, it was empty, but she could see Victor dancing with a gorgeous blonde and Denny and Lila moving through the number with the grace of a couple who’d danced so often together, they could anticipate each other’s every move.
Jack ordered drinks, and they decided to try something new. This time it was early spring berries muddled into a mint julep. The waiter said he’d heard it was good with a waggle of his eyebrows, and they took his suggestion.
“Victor said you made your way back to Kennington House?” Jack asked and Violet nodded.
“Did he tell you anything else?”
Jack shook his head, so she told him of what she’d learned from Markus and Norman Kennington, confirming Frederick’s guess about their finances.
She retold Victor’s dramatic tale of having borrowed a pocket knife off a gardener, hunting up Norman in the gardens, cutting his ‘mortal flesh’ and then attacking Norman with his bloody hand.
“He keeled right over. Papa described it as a tree being felled and Vic said it was just so.”
By the end of the story, Jack was laughing and Violet had been presented with a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and more lobster canapés. They shared the small plates and their finger had somehow become tangled together under the table when Denny and Lila collapsed into their seats.
“Hot, isn’t it?” Lila asked, reaching over and snagging one of the strawberries.
Lila inquired after the case as they ate and heard the update about Helen. Her gaze narrowed as she heard of Helen’s fate told mostly in whispers while Jack and Denny discussed yachting.