by Beth Byers
“It could have, so easily.” Jack shuddered. “Why do the people we love have to be so fragile? By Jove, Vi!”
Violet tangled their fingers together when he finally let go of her and she kissed his jaw. “I don’t know why we were so lucky. Given the way Mrs. Russell reacted to her drinks without the rhubarb, we are all quite fortunate that it wasn’t more than one of us who succumbed to that poison.”
“That’s disgustingly true,” Jack muttered. “Not that I don’t regret Mrs. Russell’s outcome. I do, of course.”
“It shouldn’t have happened at all,” Violet agreed, tugging Jack out of the alleyway. “I’ll go home and work on my book. Victor and Kate are supposed to leave tomorrow, but I’m sure they’ll stay if they need to.”
Jack nodded and hailed a black cab. He pulled her body close to his, as if he could protect her from the world by holding her tight. As they motored past their house to Victor’s, Jack said, “I’m going to move into our house.”
Violet twisted to look at him. “It’s not finished. There are workmen there early.”
“I’ll be staying with you,” he said. “Both of our nightmares will ease if I can see you breathe and you can know you aren’t alone if you wake.”
Violet’s eyes widened, but she leaned back into him. She wasn’t going to argue. She’d never slept better than when using his shoulder as a pillow and his heartbeat as a lullaby. He deserved an answer, so she said, “Rouge will like that.”
Jack laughed and kissed the top of her head in his own response.
Chapter 10
Violet was typing away on her story when the door to her bedroom opened and Rita Russell stuck her head in.
“I’m going to the hospital,” Rita said. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me to your home and tucking me into bed. You were right. I needed to sleep.”
“Do you feel better now?”
Rita was pale and wan, and she shook her head. “She’s still going to die, and I feel like there was something I should have done.”
“I don’t think there was anything we could do,” Violet told her. “There isn’t a cure for that poison, and we didn’t give it to her either way. It was a terrible crime, but it wasn’t your crime.”
Rita tried to smile, but she failed at it. She was still wearing Violet’s pajamas and kimono. “My poor Papa. I need to go. He needs me. I’ll either go back to the house with him or to the hotel, but thank you for seeing to me.”
Violet nodded. “Did you want to borrow something to wear so you can go straight to the hospital?”
Rita took in a slow breath. “Yes, I was hoping you’d let me.”
Violet dug through the closet, fighting the desire to ask Rita about the double infinity symbol and interfering in Jack’s case. She pulled out a dress that she didn’t mind bidding adieu. Violet handed the dress over, found Rita stockings, and let her leave to dress. They weren’t even close to the same size in shoes, so Rita was going to have to wear her evening shoes.
Violet went down to the parlor and called for tea. It was late in the afternoon, and she wanted to curl up with a plate of sandwiches and biscuits and set herself afloat on a sea of tea. She set herself up with a sketchbook and drew several version of a double infinity symbol and placed them in ready view.
When Rita appeared, Violet asked, “Would you like tea before you go?”
“Oh,” she said, her gaze lingering on the food. “I am famished.”
Violet waved Rita in and poured her tea. Having sent Hargreaves to warn Victor and Kate to keep scarce, they were alone for the tea.
“Are you sketching?” Rita asked, leaning forward after taking a long sip of tea.
“Working on something for my book. I saw a ring with this symbol on it, and I thought it would work well for this secret society in my story.”
“What a funny idea,” Rita said, frowning at it. “I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before. I—think I’ve seen it on a ring, too.”
“Have you?” Violet said. “Perhaps we both saw the same person. It’s a small world, isn’t it?”
Rita shook her head, frowning deeply as she stared. “It seems like it has been a while, however, since I saw it. Perhaps I saw it when I was in Africa? No,” she mused. “India. I am almost positive it was India.”
Violet leaned back. “India? Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Rita nodded. “How funny to think back. That was the last time I was truly happy. Mother was alive, and we were seeing the most amazing things around the country. Father worked while Mother and I experienced the most diverse and unique offerings of the country. We’d return home and eat this mix of Indian and English food. I just loved it there. I rode an elephant and ate hot peppers that made me cry. I had a little monkey. It was wonderful. Then mother died, and we returned home to England, and everything was grey. I left again but never quite found the same joy.”
Violet wanted to shake Rita to turn her attention back to the symbol, but Rita had adjusted her mind somewhere else, and Violet wasn’t sure it was a good idea to draw Rita’s attention to a clue that Jack was pursing.
Rita left soon after, and Violet hauled up the stairs to find Victor and Kate. Her brother demanded, “Are we allowed to eat now?”
The small table in their bedroom was covered with a tea tray, an empty sandwich tray, and a few remaining petit fours. Violet smacked his arm. “I was prying. You’d have loved it, but, of course, you weren’t invited. Your home or not.”
“Darling Vi,” Kate interrupted, rubbing her growing belly. “Will you be all right if we leave in a few days?”
“We have to have a house for that thing you’re growing,” Victor told Kate. “Therefore, Denny is prepared to shuck off the fetters of his laziness and protect our Violet. Jack also said there’s no reason to believe that Violet would be a target for this killer. I’d have to agree. Vi barely knows these people.”
“Miss Allen and Isolde sent Rita my way,” Violet told him. “We should have Isolde over to dinner before you go. Isolde can come chaperone me,” Violet suggested. “And perhaps help distract Lady Eleanor. I do wish Father would handle our stepmother.”
Victor laughed sarcastically. “Father isn’t in London to stop Lady Eleanor from destroying your engagement. He trusts Jack a little and me a little more. Father is here to stand guard over Isolde’s already stolen virtue.”
“Does he know it’s gone?” Violet asked.
“Is it really gone?” Kate asked. “Is it fair even to focus on Isolde’s virtue? What about Tomas? Or this animal, Victor? What truly determines virtue or the lack thereof?”
“Oh, I agree with you, Kate.” Violet held up her hands. “Jack chose to abide by the traditional thoughts on virtue without consulting me, and I haven’t argued because I would rather Father liked him, especially given Lady Eleanor’s character.”
“As would I,” Victor inserted. “But for Jack, this isn’t about his opinion of you, Vi, or whether your virtue is intact or not. He’s protecting you.”
“Jack,” Violet told them, taking one of the seats near the table, “took a waiter at the club by the lapels, slammed him into the wall, and shook him like a dog for, and I quote him here, ‘Bringing an altered drink to the same table as his female.’”
Victor’s choked laughter turned into a deep cough and Violet winked at Kate while they watched Victor struggle to breathe.
“That’s a winner of a man you have there,” Violet told Kate.
She reached out and rubbed her husband’s shoulder. “Yes, I know.”
“How is my Vi junior?”
“She’s good,” Kate told Violet. “Will you really be all right if we leave you for a few days? Victor won’t be calm until he has a place to put over this baby’s head.”
“Yes,” Violet said simply. “Jack is determined to keep me by his side.”
Victor curled onto his side, placing his head on his wife’s lap. “What does that mean?”
“I think you know the answer to tha
t,” Violet replied.
“Father is going to kill me.” Victor wiped his eyes and sat up. “Everything is less amusing now.”
“Whatever are you afraid of with Father? That he’ll cut you off? He won’t. Not for something I do.”
“He told me that he would drag me on a family vacation with him and make both Geoffrey and Lady Eleanor come. Father knows Geoffrey is a wart.”
Violet had to bite the inside of her mouth to hold back her gasp and control her voice to a lazy idleness. “Father threatened you with his wife?”
“He knows she’s a wart too,” Victor said. “Not that he said so. But his threat made it all clear enough. You want to know why Father is such a good shot? He goes shooting to escape Lady Eleanor. No wonder men have clubs. They realize what they’ve married and have to hide. When you add in young blighters like our brother, Geoffrey, well, you’d almost feel sorry for Father.”
“Except,” Violet said and was joined in by Kate, “He married her.”
“Just so,” Victor added with the same lack of sympathy. “Saddled all of us with her. Kate protects me now when she doesn’t abandon me.”
“It’s hard enough to eat or breathe with your devil spawn pushing on my lungs,” Kate told Victor. “Kicking me in the ribs. Making it impossible to see my feet. I hardly need to add in your stepmother.”
Jack did not appear for dinner or for evening cocktails and listening to the wireless. Violet read over her earlier work in a chair near the fire, making notes on the pages and handing them over to her brother. He’d take care of the editing and adding in a spooky atmosphere. He did spooky so much better than she did, but she did the emotional part for them both.
Violet frowned as she took a deep breath in and washed her face. She had little doubt Jack would appear sooner or later since he’d said he would. She’d have liked to speak to him about the conversation with Rita. Could what Rita had seen as a younger woman in India have anything to do with Mrs. Russell’s impending death or was it simply a coincidence?
She put on pajamas that covered her completely and then her kimono. Violet journaled for a while, looking back over her recent grey days and trying to determine if anything had caused them. She went from there to scratching Rouge’s belly, talking to the dog.
Victor stuck his head into the room. “Leave your door open.”
“Lady Eleanor is coming for you regardless of what Jack and I do or don’t do. Father wouldn’t threaten you with time with her and Geoffrey if it wasn’t on his mind.”
“My door will also be open should he appear.”
“Uh oh.” Violet’s smirk had Victor shooting her a daggered glance, but those had little effect on the woman who’d shared a womb with him. He’d have to save them for their younger sister Isolde or their ward Ginny. “Make sure you choose a room for Ginny in whatever house you buy and tell her about it.”
“She’s going to have more bedrooms across the whole of England than a princess,” Victor countered, “but I will. I ordered her some chocolates from that place you went as well. Sent it along with a few quid and a new coat Kate bought her.”
“Good. It’s important she knows we love her when the baby comes. She isn’t confident enough in us as it is.”
“She’s a good kid.” Victor entered the room and dropped a kiss on Vi’s head. “You’ll be careful whether we’re here or not.”
“Always.”
“I’m tired of people dying.” He ruffled her hair, deliberating messing up what she’d just straightened. “Leave the door open.”
“You know,” Violet called when he was nearly gone, “what the best part of you having a baby is?”
“The baby?”
“Introducing Lady Eleanor as grandmother.”
Victor’s eyes widened with sheer joy, and they grinned at each other with the same evil smirks. “Oh, Violet,” he breathed. “You’ve made my entire year, darling sister. My entire year.”
He pushed her door open a little more, put a shoe in front of it so it wouldn’t blow closed, and winked at her lifted brow.
Violet fell asleep shortly after and woke again possibly minutes, possibly hours later when Jack pulled her into his arms.
“Is all well?” she whispered, still half asleep.
“Mrs. Russell died an hour ago,” Jack said. “It is officially murder.”
Violet snuggled into his side, placing her hand over his chest to feel the movement of his breath.
“Are you all right?” She rubbed her chin against his chest as she waited for him to answer.
A long while later he did. “No. But holding you helps.”
Violet fell back asleep, but she wasn’t sure that Jack slept at all when he rose the next morning before she did and slipped out of the house and down the street to their new home.
Chapter 11
Violet dressed for the day with the assumption she’d be staying home. She had her jiu jitsu lesson, took a long, lingering bath, walked with Rouge and Victor’s dog, Gin, in the garden. They walked down to the house she would move into after she married and looked at the updates. Victor had given her some of the paintings from the house he’d bought while drunk. They’d sold the house and kept the abandoned family portraits. It appealed to both of their senses of humor to keep the other family’s portraits rather than abandon them to the garbage.
In her new house, the paper was up on the walls and the house smelled of paint from the freshly redone walls and ceilings. The newly refinished floors shone so brightly the sun reflected from the windows. Mr. Cuthbert, the butler, contained his reaction to see the muddy little dogs, and Violet had to hand it to the man that he handled the dogs well. He sent one of the daily maids to the kitchens with the dogs and led her through the house to show her the updates that had been done since her last visit.
She found Jack’s man in the bedroom, hanging his clothes. The house was one of those old-style houses that had a room for the lady of the house as well as the man of the house. It hadn’t been updated to remove the connecting door, and Jack and Violet had decided to keep it. Though they still intended to share a bedroom.
“My lady,” Nevin, Jack’s man, said, “Mr. Jack said you used the closet in the next room.”
Violet grinned and admitted, “I have too many clothes to share a closet, my good man. And on occasion, I write until the early hours. My typewriter and clothing will be in the adjoining room.”
“Do you need anything, my lady? Mr. Jack has gone to work.”
Violet shook her head. “I’m here to see the updates. I think now that I’ve seen the walls for the second bedroom that I’ll wander the furniture warehouses to look for the right set for me.”
He nodded, and she left him to Jack’s wardrobe. Jack really had moved in, Violet saw. She’d almost expected him to change his mind when they had a little distance from realizing how easily they could have lost each other.
It was a thrill to walk through her future house. Some of the rooms were entirely empty still, and Violet felt a bit of pressure to complete the purchases.
As she maneuvered through the house with Mr. Cuthbert discussing the things yet slated to be completed, Violet asked him, “Are you ready for a party yet, Mr. Cuthbert?”
His eyes widened with even more alarm than the muddy dogs had caused. “Whenever you need, my lady,” he told her.
She nodded once. “Perhaps not quite yet.”
She ignored his relief, gathered the dogs from the maid and returned to Victor’s house. As she walked up the steps a boy walked down them, and he nodded and ran off. Violet found that the boy had left a card for her inviting her to the Piccadilly Ladies Club for lunch with Rita and a few other members. Violet’s mouth twisted. Rita had just lost her stepmother, even if it was a girl Rita had half-hated. Violet wasn’t so sure it was the best choice to go to the luncheon.
She already knew, however, she would go. Violet had to hurry if she wasn’t going to be too late. She found Beatrice putting dresses away.
Beatrice’s gaze widened as Violet dropped onto the stool at her vanity and hurried through her makeup. She finished with an apple red lipstick. The dress Beatrice selected was grey with simple lines that accented Violet’s slim figure. The power of it was in the grey on grey embroidery, which reflected an attention to detail and expense that few could match.
Violet examined her jewelry. “The black pearls, Lady Violet,” Beatrice suggested. “If you’re going to a ladies club, many of them will have traditional pearls, but the excessive set that your brother bought you—no one else has that. Not even Mrs. Kate.”
That was a telling point, Violet thought as she put on her necklace. Victor really needed to top for his wife what he’d given Violet. She added diamond and pearl earbobs and several bracelets. She normally wouldn’t have worn quite so much jewelry for a luncheon, but she was putting on a persona.
Violet added a pretty, grey cloche and then a coat with fur trim. The ladies club was filled with the type of women she thought she might like. What concerned her wasn’t the women there or the embedded snobbishness that would invite Violet but not someone like Ginny—at least before Ginny became Violet’s ward. What concerned Violet was that Rita Russell had lost her stepmother the night previous and today she was asking an earl’s daughter to a social event.
It had been evident from the beginning of their association that Violet’s father’s title had mattered to Miss Russell. Why though? When it had been an excuse to avoid inviting Melody Russell to the club, perhaps, it made sense. The problem was why now. Was it the earl? Violet was afraid that it was not. She was very much afraid that it was Jack who had Rita Russell reaching out again.
She left a note for Jack for if he returned, checked in with her brother, and left for the ladies club in a black cab. The drive through London was dreary with the January rain and the thick clouds. Violet hurried up the stairs to the club when the clouds opened and poured out. She had been so busy adjusting her makeup and her dress, she hadn’t prepared with an umbrella.