by Beth Byers
“Look, Jack,” Violet said, poking him in the side. “That child bride has wriggled her way into Rita’s date. Can you imagine?”
Jack glanced back. “I can. She tried the same with us, love.”
When Jack handed Violet out of the black cab, she choked. “Jack!”
He glanced around, alert, and then cursed. “Why are they following us?”
Violet shook her head helplessly, but she feared she knew. If Rita’s life had filled Melody Russell with envy, what would an earl’s daughter’s do to the woman? Vi glanced at Jack and then back at the other auto. She sighed and confessed, “She’s in love, my love. With my title.”
“You’re taken. She’ll have to move along.”
“I fear I shall have to be rude,” Violet told him.
“Better you than me, my love.”
She laughed. “One evening. We’ll dance and have drinks. I don’t—I don’t want to become my stepmother. I could put on my air and I could look down my nose at her and lift my brow and say something snide, but I would destroy her, and I don’t want to be that person.”
“Yet another reason I adore you, Vi. We’ll dance and have drinks. Perhaps if we slide in, we can avoid them for a while.”
Violet and Jack ran up the steps. They both heard the faint call of “Oh, Lady Violet!” but neither stopped.
Jack and Violet handed their coats over quickly and rushed into the club. Rather than going for a cocktail, they almost jumped into the dancing. The band was amazing, and the singer had a voice that made Violet jealous.
“Shall we risk stopping?” Violet panted after several songs. “I could do with a cocktail.”
Jack touched his finger to her chin, tipped her head up, and kissed her forehead. They worked their way through the crowd. There was a line at the bar, but Jack simply used his bulk to flag a waiter to them, handed over a large bill, and asked for cocktails.
“There’s a unique one tonight, sir,” the man said with glee-filled eyes.
Jack glanced at the crowd, down at Vi, and said, “We’ll take two Bee’s Knees and two of the unique one. What is it?”
“It’s a rhubarb and fennel cocktail. The barman was exultant about some hothouse stuff that came in. There’s a table over near the stage opening up,” he added.
Jack nodded and they made their way to the table where the waiter cleared it quickly. “I’ll be back in half a mo’.”
“Jack,” Violet said as she glanced around. “We have room at our table, and we’ve been caught.”
Jack took her hand, playing with her fingers as he waved the waiter over. “Bring some of them as well.”
The waiter nodded, caught the sight of the two blondes and two men with close cut beards. “I actually had an order from them a moment before you.”
“Never mind then,” Violet said, “You’re a good man.”
Jack lit a cigarette as the foursome joined them.
“What wonderful luck!” Mrs. Russell said. “I thought we saw you come in here.”
The glance from Rita standing behind the child bride and the smirk from the man who had a hand on Rita’s waist proclaimed that a lie.
“How fortunate,” Violet said, “that we’ve run into each other before we dance a little more. I told Jack I needed two drinks, another half hour of dancing, and my bed.”
Rita accepted the cocktail from the waiter and raised the glass to Vi with twitching lips. They were all handed pretty pink drinks with curls of rhubarb. Violet took her Bee’s Knees first and sipped and then took up the rhubarb one.
“Oh,” Mrs. Russell pouted, “I didn’t get one with a curl of rhubarb.”
Violet handed her second drink over. “Have mine, dear.”
“Do you want mine?” Mrs. Russell asked, smiling prettily.
“I’ll just have a sip of Jack’s,” Violet told the woman.
Mrs. Russell’s red lipstick was smeared, and Violet noted the corresponding orange-red on the collar of the second man. He didn’t seem to care in the least that she was married or that her stepdaughter was watching in disgust as he leaned too close and kept his eyes cast in a rather lewd direction.
The conversation was stilted over the sound of the music, but Mrs. Russell at least was bright with her fluttering lashes and smiles. Violet tried not be drawn in by her. They listened to several songs, finishing their drinks and ordering more. Again, Mrs. Russell was served a drink without a rhubarb curl. Her gaze narrowed on the waiter and she scolded him ferociously, but Jack over-tipped to compensate.
Violet sipped Jack’s rhubarb and fennel cocktail and scrunched her nose. “Oh! That is sour!” She twisted her mouth and returned to her cocktail. She laid her head against Jack’s shoulder for just a moment and caught Rita’s gaze on them. Rita shook her head slightly, and Violet lifted her head to find the sharp, avaricious gaze of Mrs. Russell.
“Ladies,” Violet informed Jack. “I am sorry.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I can abide it, darling. Only return soon.”
When Violet rose, Rita rose as well. They were followed a moment later by Mrs. Russell, and Jack shot Violet a commiserating look.
In the ladies, Violet dabbed the back of her neck with a wet cloth. Her lipstick had smeared just a little, though it was from drinking and talking and dancing.
“How fun that we found you,” Mrs. Russell cooed. She shimmied into the mirror, adjusting her breasts, which were barely held in by the dress designed for a straight, slim figure. “I know your figure is the fashion, dear Violet.”
“It’s Lady Violet,” Rita snapped, reapplying her lipstick.
“Oh yes, of course, I just thought we were all friends here when I saw how cozy Violet was with Jack. Does your stepmother know things have progressed? I understand from Rita’s friends that there are ways to prevent unwanted consequences.” Mrs. Russell smiled prettily and leaned in to reapply her lipstick, but her hand was shaking.
Violet’s gaze narrowed, and she saw through a fury-red gaze. “What is it you mean by that comment?”
“What is it that you think I mean?” Mrs. Russell asked, placing her hand over her heart.
“I think you assume you have some measure of control over me,” Violet told her simply, “because you can see that I am comfortable with the man I’m about to marry. You also assume that Lady Eleanor, the earl’s third wife, has some measure of control of the independently wealthy, well-connected, educated daughter of the earl. Let me be clear. I supported myself before my inheritance, I control and conduct business interests, I write successful books, and I will not be blackmailed or manipulated. I will certainly not be blackmailed or manipulated by an upstart, child-bride of a man with a fortune of new money. No offense intended, Rita. I suspect I’ll rather like you.”
“None taken,” Rita said smoothly.
“What?” Mrs. Russell squealed, and she stumbled back. “You are my stepdaughter. Do you think that your father will allow…” She took a deep breath in, shuddered, and gasped again. “Allow…allow you to speak to me like that?”
“My father and I are well aware of where I stand.” Rita leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “We had a long talk about it today, and he’s well aware that I am done putting up with your nonsense. You’ll find I’ve moved into The Hotel Saffron when you return home. Father has accepted that you are his burden to bear.”
“I—” Mrs. Russell stumbled back again, grasping onto the counter behind her. “I…I…” Her horrified gaze darted between the two women, and then she slid down onto the floor.
“What is this? Some…some…game?” Rita demanded.
Violet touched Mrs. Russell’s cheek. Her eyes rolled towards Violet and then rolled back.
The door to the ladies room opened and a cigarette girl stepped in. Violet glanced at her. “You! Go get the very large man at the table near the stage. He’s quite broad, with dark hair, dark eyes, and he answers to Jack. Tell him Violet needs a doctor immediately.”
The girl starte
d in surprise. Violet snapped. “Now! Run!”
Rita dropped onto her knees next to Violet. “What is wrong?”
“She can’t talk, Rita,” Violet told her. “She’s trembling. She fell. Something is very wrong.”
Chapter 6
Jack pushed through the ladies room door and took in the sight of Violet holding Mrs. Russell.
“Did someone send for a doctor?” Violet demanded.
Jack nodded, lifting Mrs. Russell and laying her on the sofa in the corner of the ladies room. “What happened?” he asked. His voice and jaw were both tight, and Violet felt that familiar anxiety rising in her stomach. This was bad. It was really bad, and she did not need to add to her nightmares. She closed her eyes and ordered herself to focus
“We were arguing,” Violet told him, taking Mrs. Russell’s hand. The girl’s breathing was jerky and she didn’t seem to be capable of speech, but she moaned often enough to show she was in pain. “She—” Violet thought back. “She was trembling. She’d just said something awful, but she had trouble putting on her lipstick. Don’t you think that’s when she started to act odd, Rita?”
Rita’s gaze was wide and horrified, and she stumbled over her words. “I…I really don’t know. She’s too young to fall ill. Isn’t she?” Those big blue eyes darted about the ladies room.
“Yes,” Jack snapped. Several waiters came into the ladies, and they carried Mrs. Russell to the ambulance. “Violet, you need to come tell the doctor what you saw.”
She nodded and hurried after him. The coat girl brought Violet and Jack their coats while Mrs. Russell was loaded into the ambulance. Violet and Jack followed in a black cab that was held waiting for them. In the auto, Violet faced Jack.
“Maybe she’s having a reaction to something she ate.”
“I think we need to talk to Mr. Russell.” Jack’s voice was low and dark, and Violet shivered. He wrapped his arm around her, but she wasn’t cold. It was cold, but the issue was more that his voice told her he was concerned.
“We aren’t sick,” Violet told him, thinking of the fact that they’d had all the same drinks and eaten at the same restaurant. “It can’t be something like bad mushrooms, right? Maybe she’s just overheated.” She sounded a little frantic, but she’d barely shaken the last round of nightmares.
Jack pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Darling Vi, don’t worry. I’m sure it’s just like you said.”
She would have shot him a look that said he was a fool for trying to manipulate her into believing such an outright lie, but she knew he was trying to comfort her. She wound their fingers together and when the car stopped, she saw Mrs. Russell be rushed from the ambulance. She was vomiting. Violet pressed her face into Jack’s shoulder.
Her conscience was battling with her desire to avoid further nightmares. She did feel a bit bad about the woman. Violet did not like Mrs. Russell, but Vi also wouldn’t wish a terrible illness on anyone.
Jack hurried her up the stairs, their fingers tangled together, and his bulk made a path through the busyness of the hospital. The fellows carrying Mrs. Russell were murmuring to each other, and Violet both wanted to know what they were saying and wanted to know what they were not saying.
Jack called over a local police constable who had escorted in a dazed man, and he recapped what had happened to the woman. “We need to know if her husband is also ill,” Jack told the constable. “You’ll have to hunt up his address, if you can. The stepdaughter is on her way here, so you can get the address from her.”
Violet interrupted with the address and directions, and the constable nodded. As he left the hospital a man appeared with a white coat and a stethoscope on his neck. His eyes were tight and his face was concerned. “You were with the woman who just came in?”
Jack answered while Violet watched a woman bring in a child with a broken arm. The boy was wailing, and it seemed all she could hear was the crying—nothing else. Through it all, it felt like someone was speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear anything else.
“Vi,” Jack near shouted, tipping her face towards his and cupping her cheeks. “Are you all right?”
“The boy,” Violet said, shaking her head, and the haze of the moment snapped away as quickly as it had come. “I’m sorry. What do you need from me?”
The doctor’s concern had increased, and he insisted they step into an examination area. He asked her what they’d eaten, what they’d drank. While he asked her questions, he listened to her heart and lungs, tested her reflexes, and looked into her eyes.
“Is she all right?” Jack demanded. The growl in his voice had her looking up in concern.
“I think she’s in shock. Take her home, keep her warm, keep a close eye on her. Her breathing, her temperature, all of it. You are her husband?”
“Her fiancé,” Jack answered.
The doctor nodded. “Just to be sure, don’t leave her alone. Someone needs to make sure her breathing doesn’t alter, just in case.”
“What do you think is happening with Mrs. Russell?”
“I’m afraid that might be a matter for the yard,” the doctor replied.
“I’m Detective Inspector Jack Wakefield,” Jack said, holding out his card.
“Her symptoms are that of poisoning,” the doctor said. “Dr. Hannity is working on her. Hopefully, we can help her.”
“What do you think it could be?” Jack asked again.
“I don’t know, not yet. I’ll contact you. Take your fiancé home.”
“She’s fine, though, yes?”
“It’s only shock,” the doctor said.
If he’d introduced himself, Violet hadn’t noticed.
She took a deep breath. “I’m all right, darling. Just tired and—abysmally horrified.”
Jack took Violet home, and she wanted nothing more than to strip off of her evening gown, put on a pair of pajamas, and curl up in her bed, but Jack’s penetrating hawk gaze followed her every move.
“I’m all right. I just—I feel like any time anything bad happens around us, it’ll feed those nightmares, and then I panic, as though all my progress of stopping them will be lost, and I’ll be back to not enough sleep and more blues, and I’m trying so hard to be happy.”
Jack cupped her face again, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Nightmares are reasonable things to have after witnessing something awful. I’ve had them and do have them.”
“What do you dream about?”
Jack had taken her hand and was leading her up the stairs to her bedroom. “I’ve lost my mother, so many close friends during the war, my last cousin in the large influenza outbreak after the war, one of my oldest friends in an auto accident just before I met you. Now, though, when I dream terrible things, Vi—it’s you. I dream about losing you.”
Her eyes burned at his answer, at the emotion that he had let show in his voice, let alone the realization of what she meant to him. She pulled him to a stop and hugged him tightly.
“This is what we’re going to do,” he told her in a low voice, since Victor’s room was just down from Violet’s. “Change into your sleep clothes, and I’ll stay with you, just to be sure.”
Violet paused and then offered, “I could get Beatrice.”
“I won’t sleep regardless, Vi—not with you at risk. Like I said, we all have our nightmares. I need my eyes on you and the surety that Beatrice didn’t slip into sleep by mistake.”
Violet didn’t argue. She glanced at her brother’s door before hurrying into her bedroom. Her dog Rouge jumped from the end of her bed, stretched dramatically, and trotted over. Violet leaned down and scratched the dog’s ears and chin.
Beatrice had laid out a pair of brick red pajamas and one of Violet’s kimonos. Vi took them both and went into the bath to quickly wash her face, brush her teeth, and change her clothing. Rouge had followed Violet in, and the dog watched her every move. She took off her earbobs and placed them carefully in a bowl to the side of the sink and then pressed cream into her skin.
&n
bsp; She wasn’t quite sure what to think of Jack watching her while she slept. She knew if there was the merest chance that she could be affected as Mrs. Russell was that Jack would never leave her side. Even still, she wasn’t mentally prepared for the shift between them.
The day was quickly coming that they would sleep together nightly, yet somehow it felt odd to have him in her room early. Even though she wanted nothing more than the comfort of his arms.
When she exited the bathroom, she found Victor and Jack whispering in the hallway. Rouge followed Vi and stopped when she stopped. The little dog’s head tilted as she examined the two men, and then she trotted over and placed a solitary paw on Jack’s foot.
“Are you all right, Vi?” Victor asked immediately. He crossed to her and took her face, tilting her eyes towards the light as though he might notice an illness in them.
“I’m fine.” She hugged him tight and pulled away. “Spooked, yes. But darling Victor, all is well. Do not be concerned.”
Victor’s gaze narrowed on her, and she watched him examine her thoroughly. He even took her pulse and watched her breathe before he finally dropped her wrist. “She seems all right,” Victor told Jack.
“The doctor said the way she acted was probably shock, not whatever was wrong with Mrs. Russell.”
“This isn’t her first body or accident or illness,” Victor said, wrapping his arm around Violet’s shoulders. “Why is she in shock?”
“I think that’s the problem,” Jack answered. “No one should see the terrible things we do to each other as members of the human race. Let alone Violet. She’s too empathetic.”
Victor didn’t argue, and Violet felt as though they were stripping her bare.
“I’ll stay with her,” Victor told Jack.
“You are about the only person I would entrust with her,” Jack said, “but I’m staying.” The statement was flat and there was no room for argument.