Nearly A Murder: A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery (The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Book 22)

by Beth Byers

  “Thank God,” Hanson said, and it seemed as though he felt it.

  “She might have the strength to leave you now,” Violet told him without mercy.

  Hanson started and his gaze turned to Violet. There was a plea in it, but Violet wouldn’t comfort him even if she could. She wouldn’t. Never. Not for one such as him.

  “She won’t leave me,” he said fiercely, and there was a threat in it. Jack didn’t react, but Denny put out his foot and tripped the man. He went down hard, landing on his knees, and gasping in pain.

  Denny’s gaze wasn’t amused, but he acknowledged what he’d done. “Sorry, old chap.”

  The tone was disgusted and Hanson heard the undisguised hatred in it. He pushed up, using the wall to help him, and then he said, “She’ll live.”

  It was a prayer, and Vi marveled at it. They were moving towards the brig, which oddly was quite near the sick bay. Vi couldn’t help but question the prayer. “You love her?”

  “Of course I do,” Hanson said, looking at Vi as though she were an idiot. “She’s my wife, isn’t she?”

  “Who is covered in bruises from your hands,” Violet countered. She kept her tone even and fairly gentle. He didn’t deserve it from her, the gentleness. But she wanted answers. “I don’t understand how you can say you love her.”

  “I don’t need your approval, idiot woman,” Hanson snapped at her, viciously. Like Denny, she was unafraid of the man with Jack there. Jack reached out a hand, settling it as a heavy weight on Hanson’s shoulders and he muttered low to himself, a continual woebegone diatribe that demanded understanding. He would never get it from those present.

  When Jack reached the brig, he glanced in and turned and explained. “Ham beat us with Nielsen. The captain and first officer are present. They’re not going to let you join in.”

  It was directed at Vi, but Denny and Rita were included as well. As Jack and Hanson left, Vi found herself surprised to be cursing and then she said, “I want to see Victor.”

  Rita wrapped her hand around Vi’s waist and said, “Your twin is fine.”

  Vi nodded, knowing it was true, but nothing would do for her but to see him herself, to know that he was all right, to see for herself. She moved without pausing, working her way towards her brother as Denny and Rita followed, whispering together. Vi reached the cabin that was in between Denny and Lila on the one side. On the other side was Victor and Kate. In between was the cabin that had been meant for two nannies, three babies. It was Vi’s destination.

  Vi knocked lightly, unconsciously using the patter that she and Victor had used as children. He knocked a reply, opened the door, and she threw herself at him, squeezing tightly.

  He squeezed back and they whispered half-phrases, saying nothing, but conveying everything. After too long, Vivi started crying and Vi pulled back. She wasn’t surprised to find her face wet with tears from the pain that hadn’t happened but that she could imagine only too well after today.

  “You can't die first,” she told Victor.

  “All right,” he said agreeably and then glanced at Denny. “There’s ginger wine in my cabin.” Vi curled up on one of the neatly made beds, lifting baby Vivi, and holding her as tightly as the baby would allow. A squawk disciplined Vi, and she pulled back. Vivi and Agatha were old enough to babble and Vi listened to the scolding she deserved and answered seriously.

  “Are they going to live?” Victor asked.

  Vi hesitated long enough to make it clear no one knew. Their gazes met again, and they conversed almost silently. Each of them held one of the twins and then Vi said, “I need to walk. Perhaps the girls need to get some air?”

  Victor left with Vi and she told him all she knew. They fell silent when she reached the end of the tale and then Vi confessed, “I’m starving.”

  Victor snorted and led the way to the dining room. Vi ordered a full English breakfast with scones and Turkish coffee and Victor echoed the order even though he’d eaten long before. Vi started with the tomatoes, sharing with Vivi who demanded bites between Vi’s. She finally handed Vivi the toast and let her make a mangle of it while she ate what she could before Vivi stole more.

  When Vi had finished she said, “Don’t die, all right?”

  “All right,” Victor agreed. Baby Agatha had his piece of toast in her hand. Somehow, Agatha was a lady taking nibbles off the toast while Vivi smeared her face, dress, and Violet with butter and crumbs. “You’re going to get in trouble for that dress from Nanny Poppy.”

  “I’ll buy her another,” Vi swore. She looked at her own dress and admitted, “And probably one for me as well.”

  “Are you all right, Vi?”

  Vi thought back to the hopeless gaze she’d seen from Margaret the night before. Then to the moment of certainty when she’d seen Margaret’s body and thought that her husband had returned to finish the job, and then the horror when she realized Margaret was yet alive. Vi had been terrified she’d have to watch another person die. She had seen breath stop before. She had seen the transition from alive to dead. The way something essential left the body and with that, whatever had made the person who they were was gone.

  Violet bit down on her bottom lip and asked, “Why would someone try to murder the two of them?”

  Victor’s head tilted. “If this were a book, I would say that they have money. Maybe money that more than one person would inherit. Something that we could stack up as a reason. A motive. Filthy lucre and all that.”

  Vi stared at him, and he stared back. Their aunt had died in just such a manner. It was interesting when it was a mystery novel and quite terrible when it was your life and the people you loved.

  “I wonder if they were in England for something,” Vi said. “A funeral of a rich aunt.”

  “There’s always a rich aunt,” Victor said sardonically. “Some well-off old maid or widow without children of her own.”

  “Always,” Vi agreed without humor. She thought back to the tender gaze of her great-aunt. The woman who had loved them from babyhood to adulthood. The woman who had provided the example of what to be. The woman that Vi considered when she was lost in her thoughts. What would Aunt Agatha do was the question that ruled Vi’s mind. She was their mother in all the ways that mattered except by birth. She had raised the twins, and when she had died…no, when she had been murdered, she had changed their lives by bequeathing on them their fortunes.

  Their gazes met again with shared, soul-deep pain. Slowly Vi breathed in, shuddering for the both of them as Victor buried his own feelings.

  “She’d have loved to have your baby named after her,” Violet told him. “She’d have adored Kate and reminded you endlessly that you married above your station.”

  “I did,” Victor said easily. “Any idiot could see that, even this idiot.”

  They grinned at each other and Violet said, “But you know what doesn’t make sense?”

  Victor nodded. “The two poisons. If you want to rid yourself of the twins, why not poison them both, at the same time?”

  “Why not?” Vi agreed.

  “It doesn’t make sense to do them separately,” Victor added. “That’s twice the opportunity to be caught. Twice the opportunity for witnesses.”

  Vi nodded, tapping her chin. Baby Vivi shrieked an unholy, eardrum breaking howl that had people turning in their tables to shoot dark glances at Vi and Victor.

  “That’s our cue to leave,” Victor said. He rose, took Vivi, and gave Vi the chance to brush the mess Vivi had made off of herself.

  They headed away from their table and then Vi paused in the doorway and said, “It doesn't make sense,” Vi agreed. “Unless of course we have two poisoners.”

  Victor scoffed, but the idea settled on them both and they were silent as they made their way back to the temporary nursery and left the twins with the nanny. Their gazes met. Jack was helping Ham and the captain. Kate was monitoring the poison victims.

  “Your cabin or mine?” Victor asked lightly.

 
“Do you have more wine?”

  “I do indeed. And our manuscript.”

  No further answer was needed.

  Chapter 10

  Vi met Rita in the dining room for a late luncheon. Afterwards, they visited the sick bay. Though they were interested in how the twins were doing, each of them wanted to know if their husbands were yet working.

  There was a steward in front of the brig door, and Violet and Rita weren’t allowed to do anything other than ask after their husbands. They were only told that their husbands were still busy and would be told that they had visited.

  The sick bay contained Nanny Jane, the doctor, Kate reading a book to Mrs. Nielsen, and Victor, who watched his wife with affection and love.

  “How are they?” Vi asked, crossing to Kate.

  She looked up from reading Dr. Thorne to the poor women and paused. “Mrs. Nielsen may be doing better. Mrs. Hanson has woken, but she doesn’t stay awake, and she can’t speak. She saw her sister, panicked, and fainted.”

  “Nanny, will they live?”

  Nanny Jane paused and then said, “I think so.”

  “How did they both survive?” Vi asked.

  “Perhaps it was strong blood,” Nanny mused, ignoring the snort of the doctor. “Or perhaps they had a very poor poisoner.”

  Vi snorted and leaned back. She reached out and took hold of Mrs. Hanson’s wrist. “These poor women. Something occurred to Vi and she added, “These poor twins. Surely, we can move them closer together?”

  Violet looked at the two hospital beds and then she took off the brakes and moved them closer together, dropping the sides so they could sense the other’s presence. Violet stared down at the two sisters and wished that more could be done for them.

  “Is there nothing else that we can do?”

  Nanny Jane said, “Not here. Not with him.” Her gaze moved to the doctor.

  He grunted, offended, but he cared far less about the jab now that it had been so long between drinks. Vi would have thought that he’d be demanding a drink or getting one for himself. Were they keeping the doctor from his self-medicine?

  Violet didn’t care, but she examined him. The man was sweating now and he looked as though he were about to sick up. His feet were moving restlessly and his hands were opening and closing as though he were going to strangle something.

  Vi looked towards the nanny who eyed the doctor and then met Vi’s gaze. Nanny nodded once for Vi’s unasked question. Yes, the doctor was suffering. Yes, the nanny had an eye on him. Violet looked towards her brother who was lounging, but she saw that his gaze was fixed on the doctor’s hands too.

  “Why can’t he have a drink?”

  “Jack castigated the ship’s captain for allowing a drunk doctor on ship. Told the captain that if either of the women died, it could be laid at his feet as well as the poisoner’s.” Kate had paused from reading to explain.

  Vi wasn’t surprised to hear it. Her husband was protective in the extreme, and his very soul would have been horrified to see that they’d been saddled with a man who couldn’t make it a few hours without a drink. Surely the captain had known? If he hadn’t, he was just as responsible for what happened because it was his duty to know and to protect his passengers.

  Vi took a seat next to Victor because she didn’t have anything else to do. She fell into the story as the moments passed and finally there was a knock at the door of the sick bay. Rita rose to answer the door and then she stepped back.

  Her eyes were alight with interest as she let Mrs. Kristiansen into the room. Vi lifted a brow and glanced at her twin. They were, the both of them, disgusted to see the lover of the man who wouldn’t attend the possible deathbed of his wife.

  “Why are you here?” Vi had little patience for pretending. Not in the face of the two women. Not while her lover’s wife lay there, unable to speak, but possibly aware. Vi would speak for the wife, for Mrs. Ruth Nielsen who had married and left her country, who had brought her twin along, who had watched her twin abused and was refused help from the man who was supposed to love her. How could he love her while he also loved Mrs. Kristiansen?

  “I am here to see my friends. Why are you here?” It was a challenge and a declaration. Of them all, Mrs. Kristiansen had the most right to be there, and she intended to exercise it.

  Vi lifted her brow again, letting the little blonde meet her gaze. Vi had only seen the woman from a distance before now. In person, Mrs. Kristiansen was sensuousness personified. She wasn’t lovelier than either of the twins, but she seemed to exude a lascivious interest in the world around. No, Vi thought, the men around. Mrs. Kristiansen rejected the doctor in a moment and then her gaze moved to Victor.

  “I don’t think so,” Kate said mildly, closing her book.

  Victor cleared his throat and shot his wife a look that said he could be trusted even when she wasn’t present. Kate didn’t doubt Victor, but she wasn’t going to watch the woman throw herself at her husband while she stood there.

  “Pardon?” Mrs. Kristiansen asked innocently. She even fluttered her lashes. For all their foolish expressions, Vi’s friends only used a lash flutter ironically. The poor woman didn’t understand the round of humor that was barely held back, but she could tell they were laughing at her, and she flushed prettily. Her gaze returned again to Victor and he crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

  Vi wondered if it was an act, this innocence, or if Mrs. Kristiansen was just naturally focused on men. Did she just not see the women around her? Did Mrs. Kristiansen turn her wiles towards the men and not even realize what she was doing? Vi examined the lover and then thought, no. This woman wasn’t quite so innocent as that.

  Violet’s head cocked. “You’ll find my brother isn’t as easy a mark as Mr. Nielsen.”

  Mrs. Kristiansen blinked innocently. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean.”

  “Darling,” Rita inserted, “surely you realize that none of us are going to allow you such an act. You are the lover of the husband of the woman there. We all know it, and none of us will let you pretend. Not in front of her deathbed.”

  Mrs. Kristiansen gasped and her eyes teared prettily. It was the type of move that for other people would have a man tucking her close and comforting her.

  “I wonder,” Violet asked, “if Mrs. Nielsen believes you. She’s aware, did you know? Lying there locked in her body and able to hear your lies. I wonder what she would say if she were able to speak.”

  Vi hadn’t been sure, but Mrs. Nielsen’s eyes fluttered and a look of horror crossed Mrs. Kristiansen’s face. The movement of the eyes was enough to make Vi’s statement believable even to herself.

  Mrs. Kristiansen shook her head. “She can’t be. Surely she is sleeping?”

  “I don't believe so,” Nanny Jane said firmly. “She’s awake at the moment. Awake and in pain.”

  “She’s going to live,” Vi said. She hoped she didn’t lie, but she was afraid she did. “Your poisoning of your lover’s wife was unsuccessful.”

  Mrs. Kristiansen’s jaw dropped and a look of shock crossed her face. She seemed almost confused. “Poisoning? I thought they fell ill?”

  “Ill of poison,” Rita said.

  Vi considered and then added, “Or perhaps your lover is getting rid of his wife, and you are innocent? Perhaps, in fact, it will be your fate in the future.”

  “That’s not possible,” Mrs. Kristiansen hissed. Even if her lover had poisoned his wife, she didn’t believe he would ever hurt her. Vi was sure that Mrs. Nielsen had once wanted to believe the same.

  “Why?” Rita demanded. “Because your lover was with you while his wife lay poisoned and alone?”

  Mrs. Kristiansen shook her head mutely, but it wasn’t a denial of Rita’s suggestion but a horror-filled plea.

  “You know, of course, he’s being questioned right now.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe their friend poisoned them,” Mrs. Kristiansen shot out, desperately. “Why would Oskar try to kill Margaret as w
ell? They need her.”

  Vi perked with interest. “Do they?”

  A look of defiance crossed Mrs. Kristiansen’s face and she said, “He was with me. It must have been someone else.”

  “Not,” Rita countered, “if the poison was put in something that would get them eventually. The poisoning is done while they’re elsewhere, and then the man seeks an alibi for when it strikes.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Mrs. Kristiansen said even more firmly.

  She had doubted for a moment, Vi thought, but that doubt had faded. “Wouldn't he? Why are you so sure?”

  “The shipping company is a partnership,” Mrs. Kristiansen said with scorn, tossing her pretty curls and letting her gaze stray to Victor again. “Oskar, Liam, my father, and their father. If both of the twins are dead, Mr. North will remove himself from the company. He's an old-fashioned man. He doesn’t like that they married Norwegians, but he believes in supporting his children. That will change if they’re gone. Oskar would never risk his company. He would never poison the twins.”

  Vi noted the plural and wondered what Mrs. Kristiansen would say if just one of them lay struggling for her life rather than both. What then? Would she accept and wonder? Would she continue in his bed with the theory that he had killed a previous occupant or would she be wise enough to escape before it was too late.

  Violet lifted a brow and asked a different question, “And their father doesn’t care that Liam is abusive?”

  Mrs. Kristiansen glanced aside and then muttered, “I don’t believe he knows.”

  Vi’s head tilted at that. If that fiend Liam had kept his actions hidden while they were in England, then perhaps the daughters were guessing wrong about their father. Her gaze strayed to her friend and landed on Victor who was wondering the same thing. She knew him too well, and he was calculating the same thing she was.

  “I find myself wondering if these twins are doubting their father when they shouldn’t,” Victor said. A natural conclusion for Violet and Victor, and their matching eyes met and remembered the same things. It had been a problem for them as well. Doubting their father, his love, what he would do for them. He had failed them as they’d been raised never knowing he cared, but he did care.