Murder at the Ladies Club

by Beth Byers

  Violet’s laugh had Victor folding his arms across his chest and gritting his teeth.

  “Try not to pout, darling. These are the consequences of combining families. Surely Kate and Violet Junior are worth this terrible sacrifice?”

  “Quit mocking me, devil,” Victor whined.

  Violet elbowed him and then rose. “I’d love to listen to you bemoan your fate for the rest of the afternoon, dear brother, but I have been invited to tea with someone who knows Miss Allen.”

  “Miss Allen? Of the lesser twin article?”

  “Jack’s former fiancé? Yes.”

  Victor winced, and Violet grinned and rose. “Keep me in your thoughts, lesser twin.”

  Violet ran up the stairs to her bedroom to change. She decided to wash her face and run a brush over her hair before she considered her options. It was January, so a pale pink day dress felt out of season. With her dark hair and eyes, the deep—nearly tan—cream dresses did look particularly nice on Violet.

  She pulled that dress out of her armoire, dressed quickly and then carefully applied her makeup, drawing in her brows, blending in her rouge, and darkening her lashes. A moment later and she’d applied her lipstick and placed it in her handbag.

  Violet examined herself in the mirror and grinned at the realization she was more worried about how she looked for this tea with Rita Russell—a complete stranger—than she would be if she was dressing to meet Jack for one of those fun little restaurants he hunted up. The thought of Jack made her miss him, and while she kept her grin, it faded to a sort of stalwart grimace.

  She hurried down the stairs, adding a dark brown cloche in the hall, and then stuck her head into Victor’s office. “It’s all your fault.”

  “It usually is,” he said, waiting.

  “You’ve taught me to be dependent. Enabled it.”

  Victor laughed out and out at that. “Your blues aren’t because Jack is working,” Victor told her. “You are the least dependent woman in the whole of the world. You run business interests that churn out bullion by the bucket. You know how to operate an automobile, plan trips across the world without a fear or the need of a masculine hand. Darling, you just struggle. It’s rather like—ah, people who have gout. Sometimes it’s hard for you to be merry. The only thing that I or Lila or Jack do is give you a reason to get out, which always helps. You know what else helps?”

  “What?”

  “Sunny days. I declare. We should spend every January and February elsewhere. The Riviera. Crete. Barbados. Cuba, again. By Jove! Cuba.” The second time he said ‘Cuba,’ he said it longingly.

  “You’ll have a baby next time,” she told him, suddenly feeling better.

  “I’m sure Vi junior will love traveling. Start them young, you know? Begin as you mean to go on.”

  Violet grinned and dropped a kiss on her brother’s forehead. “You do make me feel better.”

  Lila arrived in a black cab just as Violet left the house. She had thought she’d wander past the house she and Jack had purchased, but Lila had arrived too early to let Violet dream over her house a little more.

  “Oh my goodness,” Lila said, crossing her legs, “are you mooning over your house again? It’s yours now, Vi. By Jove, woman! Move in, have a party.”

  “A party.” Violet grinned slowly. “We do need to add our own particular flavor to the house.”

  “Before we get there,” Lila mused, “do you wonder if that Russell woman somehow knew we would be in that particular boutique?”

  “It is odd, isn’t it?” Vi mused in return, imitating Lila’s tone. “There is no way, darling one. We didn’t know we’d be at that boutique when we left.”

  “They could have guessed,” Lila said. “It’s not like we aren’t pretty—what’s the word? Reliable? Devoted? Addicted? That might be it. To several particular boutiques and shops. You keep Ursula Grant’s shop in business, I think.”

  “Her embroiderers do divine work. I like this idea of a party.”

  “So you’re going to ignore my question?”

  “I am!” Violet grinned, then tilted her head as she examined Lila. The woman was—like Violet—twenty-four-years-old. They had been the best of friends since their first day of boarding school when Violet had been lost without Victor and Lila had been lost without her best friend, Denny.

  So much had changed since then, but occasionally, Violet felt as though she could see the tiny versions of them. As much as Vi loved her sister Isolde or her ward Ginny or her new sister-in-law, Lila was the one who knew Violet nearly as well as Victor. “Why are you suspicious?” Violet asked.

  “I think she was too ready with your name. And the details of your life. Coincidence? I don’t think so. Head’s up, darling. Something’s afoot.”

  Violet’s brows lifted and she nodded. She supposed if she had been thinking less about her stepmother, Jack, Jack’s career, and her brother leaving in the next week, she might have realized what Lila had pointed out.

  “You’re a good sidekick, love.”

  “I’m not a sidekick,” Lila said. “I’m the love interest of a lazy hero.”

  Violet snorted so hard on her laughter she fell into a coughing fit and had to dab her tears away before her makeup was destroyed. “That you are, my love.”

  Chapter 3

  Rita Russell’s house was directly next door to Violet’s family town home. The earl’s family had owned the London monstrosity since time immemorial. It was one of those ancient houses that had been handed down through the generations and that only the richest of the rich and the most established families owned. The house next door, the one matching the address on Rita Russell’s card, was no less monstrous.

  Lila and Violet looked at the house, at each other, and then their heads tilted as one. Violet narrowed her eyes. “Something’s afoot.”

  “I’ve already said that.”

  “That was delayed agreement.”

  “Didn’t this house used to belong to some rich baron?” Lila asked. “You didn’t recognize the address?”

  “I didn’t read it,” Violet admitted. “I simply gave the card to the cabbie. The baron lost all of his money in a gambling hell over the course of a year. They had to sell and mortgage everything.”

  Lila’s brows lifted and then she laughed. “I’m surprised your stepmother didn’t offer you up to him.”

  “She probably would have, but she’d have had to murder his wife.”

  “Who knew your stepmother had limits?”

  Violet’s laugh was a little evil as she agreed. “Do you think that Miss Russell knows my stepmother?”

  “Yes,” Lila said almost fiercely.

  “My stepmother knows where I shop. She took me often enough when I had to let my father buy my clothes. It was the way she kept her claws in.”

  “She did.”

  “What are they planning?” Violet asked Lila, who shrugged. They both glanced between the two mansions.

  “Maybe Miss Russell has a handsome brother or cousin.” Lila wasn’t joking, and the fact that Violet had purchased her wedding dress, reserved the church, and was planning her honeymoon while her stepmother was actively trying to destroy the wedding made her cheekbones and teeth ache.

  “I don’t know,” Violet muttered. “Rita is awfully brown. She knew Africa almost as if by experience. My stepmother would hate that. Despise it. Mock it over tea with whomever would listen to her. And to be able to buy that house? It would have to be new money. Lady Eleanor would despise new money.”

  “Would it have to be new money?”

  “Certainly,” Violet answered. They were both from rich, established families, but being an earl’s daughter gave her a perspective that few could attain. “Old money already owns houses like that one. They’ve all owned them since the dawn of time.”

  “It’s possible that Miss Russell has her own plans. Your stepmother may be trying to use the tools at hand, and Miss Russell is up to something else. Something beyond what Lady Eleanor i
s planning.”

  Violet opened the auto door and stepped out of the vehicle. “I’m not playing games with these women. Should we just leave?”

  “We should get the lay of the land,” Lila said, rubbing her hands together and grinning evilly.

  Violet sighed. “Like soldiers examining enemy terrain.”

  “We shall have to be our own scouts. Well,” Lila’s head cocked and she winked, “I suppose I am, yet again, being your minion.”

  “See,” Violet teased, “you’re no love interest for a lazy hero. You’re a sidekick to a cheeky heroine.”

  They approached the front door of the mansion together, with Violet reaching out and using the door knocker. A very tall, very black man in a perfectly pressed suit opened the door. He lifted his brows in a snobbery that the earl’s butler could never match. Violet liked him immediately. She put on her earl’s daughter persona and handed her card to him between two fingers.

  His eyes glinted in appreciation though none of his feeling spread to his face, and he slowly stepped back. “Miss Russell is expecting you. This way please.”

  Violet and Lila followed him through the house. She’d been in the mansion before, but the mural on the ceiling had been expertly refreshed, and she had to keep herself from stopping to stare. It had always been lovely, but restored as it was made it a true work of art. The black and white tiles were shining so that Violet could see her reflection in the black tiles.

  They were led through the house and down the hall to a sun-filled conservatory that had a table set up under an orange tree.

  “Lady Violet, Mrs. Lancaster,” the butler announced. He almost, but didn’t quite, click his heels together and then spun smoothly and silently exited.

  “He’s delightful,” Violet announced loudly, so he heard her as he closed the doors. “Well now, Miss Russell.”

  The blonde woman looked up and grinned. “He is, isn’t he? I don’t think I’ve ever seen an expression on his face. I’m so glad you’ve come.”

  As she spoke, the door opened again, and a very young, very curvaceous, very beautiful woman came into the conservatory. “Oh, how delightful! You’ve arrived.”

  Miss Russell’s face froze, then a brittle, society smile appeared as she cleared her throat. In a perfectly appropriate and perfectly furious tone, she introduced them. “Lady Violet, Mrs. Lancaster, may I present Mrs. Russell.” She paused for a moment and then added, “My stepmother.”

  Lila faked a sneeze to hide her reaction and then dabbed her mouth with her handkerchief to hide the evil grin. Violet lifted an imperious brow at the woman—girl really—who had paled.

  “So nice to meet you,” Violet said.

  “I wasn’t aware you intended to join us,” Miss Russell said to the little blonde, who shot Miss Russell a look that so clearly commanded her to be quiet that Violet had to swallow her gasp. This stepmother was at least five years younger than Rita Russell and probably more.

  “Who doesn’t want to meet an earl’s daughter!” the girl gushed. “Such a notorious one at that. I have heard so much about you.”

  Miss Russell shot Violet an unreadable glance and seated them at the little table near the teacart.

  “Well,” Violet said, taking a seat. Lila sat immediately next to her, and they both pasted polite smiles on their faces. Violet glanced around the conservatory. “What lovely orchids.”

  Miss Russell’s lips thinned as Mrs. Russell tittered. “That wasn’t quite the thing to say, was it?” the girl admitted. “I’m so glad that dear Rita is home. She can help me with these things. Do forgive me.”

  Violet glanced at Miss Russell, whose eye twitched. She pressed a finger to her temple before pouring a cup of tea and asking how the others took theirs.

  “I’m just so excited to see if you’ll accept the sponsorship,” Mrs. Russell said. “I confess I wanted it dreadfully, but I understand that dear Rita offered it to you first. The Piccadilly Ladies Club! What an exciting place to see and be seen. I’m sure I’ll join you eventually.”

  The desperate, pleading look Rita Russell threw Violet’s way clarified the woman’s purposes. She needed Violet to lie for her. Internally, Vi shrugged, then she lied. “Oh! I wish I had known. I’m afraid I’ve already accepted and joined.”

  The woman—girl, certainly—pouted. She out and out pouted, and Violet wanted to smack her. She had married a man well past the age to be her father. It was past time to grow up. The horror of the girl’s marriage was enough to turn Violet’s stomach, thinking of some of her father’s friends. If Violet was following what was happening here, and she was stringing together the sparsest of clues, this girl seemed to be not just married to Rita’s father but encroaching on Rita’s life.

  Rita would have been hard-pressed to find another woman as likely to sympathize as Violet. The idea of Lady Eleanor, Violet’s own stepmother, trying to encroach into more than an occasional luncheon or weekend in the country was enough to make Violet shudder. Her attempts to upend Violet and Jack’s wedding was likely to give Violet migraines on a daily basis.

  “Oh, that does make me sad,” Mrs. Russell said, turning her cornflower blue eyes up at Violet and blinking slowly, as if Violet would somehow succumb to the pleading there.

  “I am afraid, Melody, that it’s time for us to discuss secret club business. As much as we’d love to have your company, Lady Violet and Mrs. Lancaster only have a short amount of time to spend. You’ll understand better than I, given Lady Violet is in the midst of her wedding preparations and can only spare that short amount of time.”

  “Oh I do!” the girl said, clapping her hands and leaning forward with a bright smile. “Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

  Lila choked on a laugh again as Violet struggled to find an appropriate reply. She finally said, “I do appreciate the offer ever so! I’m afraid, however, my own stepmother would be so displeased if I turned to another experienced woman for help during this time.”

  Mrs. Russell’s pout returned, and she flounced from the conservatory a moment later.

  “What,” Lila demanded the second the door shut behind the child-bride, “in the world was that? I feel certain that I have descended into some sort of wonderland.”

  “As do I,” Miss Russell said.

  “My dear Miss Russell,” Lila said, reaching for her hand, “You have brought me to a rare—very rare—moment of sympathy.”

  Violet was the one choking laughter as Lila patted Miss Russell’s hand.

  “Rita, please. My goodness, after that I feel as though you’ve seen my knickers. Thank you for understanding so quickly, Lady Violet.”

  “Violet, please,” Vi replied. “This is Lila. Every time you say Mrs. Lancaster, I feel certain my brother’s mother-in-law is about to appear. It’s enough to send me into endless rounds of glancing over my shoulder and examining my word choice.”

  Lila laughed. “After that I shall need something sweet.”

  Rita handed over the plate of biscuits and petit fours. Lila took one and handed it to Violet.

  “So you did hunt us up when we were shopping?”

  Rita blushed. “Yes. I asked your sister where to shop. She said, ‘My sister is who you need to ask.’ Then she listed several shops. I was looking for you, it’s true, but to be perfectly honest, I’d have begged anyone I thought might help, and that boutique does cater to the right clientele for my needs.”

  Violet sipped her tea, and Rita sighed. “Shall I tell you the whole terrible story?”

  “Yes,” Lila said. “I do love horrible stories, especially if they’re true stories.”

  Rita laughed. “I’ll begin with my mother, so you can understand my horror. She was an adventuress! Daring, beautiful, charming, and my father adored her. They raised me as they traveled the world, with father working wherever we went. She died in India about five years ago. Father returned to England. He never had the same love of travel as Mother.”

  Violet took a cucumber sandwich, feeling as though
a quintessentially British food must be the choice she made for a story of returning to England.

  “I,” Rita continued, “didn’t really want to come home, so I begged my aunt to travel with me. It seemed as though I could keep Mama alive that way. I traveled with my mother’s sister, later with a few friends. I went all over India, then to Egypt, eventually Africa.”

  “We guessed that one.” Lila’s lazy voice had Violet fighting a grin.

  “This time when I came home, I thought I’d get Father to go fishing with me in Scotland, perhaps a ramble in the Lake Country. I wanted to go to South America, but I thought I had better visit Father first.”

  “Get to the good part,” Lila demanded.

  “When I got home, I found he had married. He told me he wrote me a letter, only it missed me on my surprise return journey.”

  “So you had a surprise stepmother. Truly, my condolences.” Violet shuddered for Rita.

  “And what a stepmother,” Lila crowed without an ounce of sympathy. The cold, cruel creature was enjoying Rita’s pain all too much. “How old is she?”

  “She’s nineteen.”

  Violet set her teacup down while Lila laughed evilly.

  “Nineteen years old,” Rita said slowly, as though it needed to be repeated for herself. She seemed to be still half in shock.

  “You are—?” Violet had to know.

  “Twenty-seven.” Rita set down her teacup and rose. “If that weren’t bad enough, she goes to parties with my friends. She insinuated herself in with them while I was gone. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, I found that she wears my dresses.”

  “Your dresses?” Violet demanded. “No!”

  “She’d say we’re the same size, but we aren’t. She’s far more bosomy than I. She looks like a two-bit streetwalker in my clothes.”

  Lila waved off the concern. “She’s going to be fat in five years. Or fat as soon as she gives your father a child.”