If it wasn’t for the edge of tension hanging between each of the players I would have thought it a dreadfully dull thing to watch. Sir Wentworth lost that hand and pieces of parchment, which I assumed were notes signifying a debt owed, were exchanged.
“Your niece is rather lovely,” Lord Fitzwilliam drawled to Sir Wentworth. “And about to be launched onto the Marriage Mart, isn’t she?”
I couldn’t help but think that Rowena had, after all, been as beautiful as Tabitha, whom he was now complimenting. It was worth further investigation. Sir Wentworth stopped scowling at his cards and scowled at Lord Fitzwilliam instead.
“Not for the likes of you,” he said darkly. “You haven’t the blunt to afford her. Not with my bloody brother at the reins of the family fortune. So keep your distance, Fitzwilliam.”
Fitzwilliam only laughed. The night stretched on. Peter looked as if he barely knew his own name, but he still managed to win the next hand. Mr. Travis didn’t appear to be drinking, only swirled his port in his glass in a manner that made Sir Wentworth grit his teeth. Lord Jasper offered his guests coffee. Peter switched to brandy. Sir Wentworth won a gold watch and lost a pouch of coins. He rubbed his face. Mr. Travis ate a piece of cheese. I yawned, bored. The floor was hard under my knees, and I shifted slightly to ease the pressure.
“Deuced cold in here,” Peter muttered, slurring slightly.
Cold didn’t quite explain it.
Rowena appeared at the table, drifting in between the players, trailing her hand over the table. The cards ruffled. Peter shivered.
“Shut the window,” he told Frederic.
Lord Jasper frowned, eyes bouncing around the room, as if he knew the chilled air had nothing to do with an open window. Rowena circled, her expression softening, then sharpening, seemingly at random.
I knew the exact moment she realized I was on the other side of the door.
She turned and abandoned her pacing around the table, moving so quickly I thought she’d vanished. She reappeared, very suddenly, her eyes staring right into mine. The iron plate of the handle frosted as I yelped and fell backward. I cracked my elbow on the edge of a table. A candlestick wobbled and fell over, silver thudding into the parquet floor.
“What was that?” Mr. Travis inquired. There was the sound of chairs being pushed back and men getting to their feet.
I ran all the way to my room, cradling my injured arm and praying no one would follow. The fear of being caught didn’t fully dissipate until a full half hour had passed without a knock sounding on my door.
“It’s not a good idea.”
“I know that,” I told Colin again. We were huddled in a dark corner behind a terrarium of ferns outside the parlor. Elizabeth peered around the edge of the glass to be certain we weren’t about to be discovered. “But we have to do something.”
“Not this,” Colin insisted.
Elizabeth hissed at us. “Keep your voices down.” Laughter spilled down the hall from the parlor. “Besides, it will all be perfectly safe.”
“You should listen to Jasper if you won’t listen to me,” he muttered. “He said to leave it alone. It’s too dangerous.”
“Well, we can’t sit around much longer waiting for a mute ghost to tell us everything we need to know. She’s being irritatingly cryptic, if you’ll notice.” Colin was very close to me; he smelled like rain. “We’ve made a list of suspects but it’s hardly of any use if we don’t do anything with it.”
“You made a list of suspects?” He groaned.
“Yes,” Elizabeth told him pertly. “We’re very clever, actually.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Who’s on this famous list then?”
I explained what we’d discovered, listing only the most prominent names: Caroline; Peter; Mr. Travis; and Lords Fitzwilliam, Winterbourne, and Underhall.
“Frederic, is, of course, not a suspect,” Elizabeth felt the need to warn us sternly.
“ ’Course not,” Colin said dryly.
“Oh, and Rowena had a secret beau. We need to find out who he was.”
“Ha.” Elizabeth nodded triumphantly. “Told you we were clever.”
“And reckless.”
“It’s only a few questions here and there,” she scoffed. “And I know everyone here, have since I was a baby.”
He shook his head. “Everyone has secrets.”
“Not the peerage.”
“Especially the peerage.”
Elizabeth looked shocked. “Surely not.” She shook her head. “I’ll go in first.”
We watched her go. Colin rubbed his face. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that every single person accounted for at the party last year is here now? In Lord Jasper’s country house? With a purported medium?”
I stilled. He had a point. And Lord Jasper had been vehement in his warnings when we’d tried to question him.
Our list of suspects had just gotten longer.
“Violet, I don’t like it.”
“I know, but I don’t see that we have a choice.” And we couldn’t mention it to Elizabeth. She’d never believe it of her godfather.
“Consider this then: what if you end up asking the actual murderer a question that makes him nervous? He’ll think you know more than you do. Then what?”
Again, he had a point. Blast.
“We’ll be very careful,” I promised, smoothing out my skirt. The day had been rather hard on my clothes. My last clean dress was a plain dark brown gown a few years out of style, but it would have to do. Mother had not been pleased. At least her head had stopped pounding so she wasn’t yelling at all the maids anymore.
“Do you have salt?” Colin asked me finally.
“Yes.” Feeling foolish, I pulled at a pocket until a small trickle of salt poured out. I wasn’t entirely convinced it would help, but I was willing to try anything to prevent a repeat of the events at the pond.
“There’s that at least,” he said grudgingly.
We eased into the hall and then into the parlor where everyone had gathered for post-supper tea and games. Colin waited inside by the door, as he always did. I joined Elizabeth on a settee, trying to pretend we’d been sitting there all along. We’d have to blend a little before we did anything. A maid handed me a plate of iced biscuits and a cup of tea. I smiled and sipped at it, watching everyone and trying not to be obvious about it.
I let the murmurs about archery the next day and shopping in the nearby village and how certain dresses had a dreadful lack of silk flowers flow over me. There were well over a dozen couples; I had no idea how we were supposed to find out anything useful. One hardly spoke to sixteen-year-old girls, and we weren’t meant to speak at all unless asked a question directly. Elizabeth lifted her cup and used the rim to hide her mouth.
“Unlce Jasper you know, and Lady Octavia and Lucinda. Lord Francis in the creased breeches is the family embarrassment. He drinks and swears and smells like fish. Most alarming. Lord and Lady Kearlsey are neighbors; they’d have been here as well. He drinks and she gambles, but only secretly. She lost a pair of bays and her favorite carriage last year on a hand of whist. Frederic,” she couldn’t help a little sigh, “and the other boys are all at Oxford. Both Ellen and Diana are betrothed and will talk of nothing else. Lord Furlinghew has a mistress in town. Or is it two? Tabitha’s uncle you know, he always sneaks me an extra pudding at Christmastime. Lord Fitzwilliam is making Lady Marguerite blush, I wonder what he could be saying.” She squinted, as if she could read their lips but soon gave up with a sigh. “Lord Winterbourne there is a little paunchy, but he’s terribly rich. Lord Underhall doesn’t say much but by all accounts is very kind.” I hadn’t heard him say a word at the card game, even when he won a hefty sum that had made the other men groan.
Colin was right. It was strange that they were all here, the same people at nearly the same party.
I caught Mr. Travis sipping coffee and watching us with a half frown. “Mr. Travis is staring at me again,” I murmured.
�
�Perhaps he thinks you’re pretty.”
“Or perhaps he knows we suspect him.”
“Well, don’t make eye contact then. And don’t glower! You’ll give yourself away completely.” She went on with her appraisal of the guests. “The Tretheweys you already know, in trade but not bad altogether.” She nudged me knowingly. I ignored her.
“And Tabitha’s father truly hasn’t been back since the … accident?” It seemed more prudent to say “accident” instead of “murder,” no matter how hushed our voices were. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, even though she was flirting with Xavier and shooting me mocking glances. Her gown was utterly perfect, pale pink with cream-colored lace and pink stones edged with diamonds around her neck and wrists. The stones rested exactly where Rowena’s bruises had been. She was very pale. Caroline stood nearby, stiff as an iron poker. I half-expected someone to take her by the feet and use her to stoke the fire.
When Tabitha moved slightly, Rowena appeared behind her like a pale, damp shadow. I swallowed. Goose bumps scattered across my arms.
Elizabeth followed my gaze. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t care a fig about Xavier. She only wants to vex you.”
“It’s not that,” I whispered. “Rowena.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth whispered back. “That’s good, isn’t it? We need her.” She pulled her shawl over her shoulders. “It’s rather chilly all of a sudden.”
“Try and make it seem as if we’re deep in conversation,” I told her. “And tell me if I go cross-eyed.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Rowena,” I intoned, hoping Tabitha didn’t think I was staring at her and decide to create some sort of fuss over it. And wouldn’t that just complete my day. Rowena glanced at me and nodded her head but remained exactly where she was.
How was I supposed to have a conversation with her all the way over there?
Mr. Travis leaned forward, staring at me even more forcefully than usual. I hoped I hadn’t spoken too loudly. He’d think I was mad. And it was no way to stay undetected in my efforts.
“Mr. Travis is still staring,” I said out of the corner of my mouth.
“Do you think he heard you?” Elizabeth asked.
“I don’t know. Laugh loudly.”
She laughed.
“Rowena,” I repeated sternly, under the cover of Elizabeth’s chortles.
Xavier moved away after a short bow to Tabitha. Rowena ignored me.
The bloody dead girl sopping into the carpet ignored me.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I muttered peevishly. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess in the first place.”
I cleared my throat warningly. “Rowena Wentworth, you blasted girl, is your murderer in this room?”
She nodded but remained where she was, her eyes keeping track of all of the guests and their movements.
“Show us.”
She didn’t so much as float an inch away from her position. I’m sure it was very touching that she missed her sister, even if that sister was horrid, but she could be a little more inclined to help us.
“You’re going to have to move,” I muttered.
Xavier looked bemused. I hadn’t noticed that he’d come over and was now standing right in front of us.
“I beg your pardon,” he said.
Elizabeth’s giggle was perfectly genuine this time.
“Oh. Uh …” I couldn’t think of a single word that rhymed with “move,” which might explain how he’d clearly misheard what I’d just hissed at him.
“I was sitting on her sash, Mr. Trethewey,” Elizabeth lied cheerfully. “She was just asking me to move. And how do you do this evening?”
“Very well, thank you.” He bowed to each of us. “I wonder if you might care for a glass of lemonade, Miss Willoughby.”
“Yes, thanks.” I stood and took his offered arm even though what I really wanted to do was march over to the recalcitrant ghost and shove salt up her nose. Instead I followed Xavier to the table at the back of the room, where the silver punch bowl and glass cups waited. My mother watched us triumphantly. I tried not to glance at Colin to see what he was doing. I probably didn’t want to know anyway.
Xavier and I made polite chitchat about the weather. He was very handsome and attentive, his blond hair glinting in the light of several oil lamps. It wasn’t his fault he was rather bland. I nearly clapped a hand to my mouth. Clearly, this ghost business was pickling my brain. I should be grateful and flattered that he paid me compliments and might possibly wish to marry me.
And I was grateful. And flattered.
Truly.
I smiled more brightly at him, determined not to be a goose. He smiled back. His gloved hand brushed mine as he handed me a cup.
“You are beautiful as always, Violet,” he murmured. His parents smiled at us from where they sat sipping wine. There. Every single one of us was smiling.
It was all very pleasant, even if my cheeks were starting to hurt.
And then Rowena left her post without warning.
She really was becoming quite a bother. She’d had all that time to acknowledge my presence and instead waited until I was comfortably secluded with Xavier, who was telling me a charming story about his aunt’s poodle. It was a story he’d already told me, but still, that was hardly the point.
Rowena hovered over me until I shivered. Xavier led me to a chair, thinking he’d been keeping me standing in a draft. I tried to ignore her.
“In a moment,” I mumbled out of the side of my mouth.
She pressed against me in a most uncomfortable manner. A transparent white lily bobbed into my face, narrowly missing my eye. I felt cold, damp; even my bones wondered why winter had come so suddenly. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. The room tilted suddenly and I was caught in another vision. I wished Rowena had another way of sharing information with me. One that was clearer.
And made me less inclined to cast my accounts on someone’s shoes.
The small comforts of the parlor faded.
I was being dragged through the grass outside Whitestone Manor in my nightdress. The white cotton material caught the moonlight and made me glow. I felt faint and disoriented, with that medicinal taste in my mouth again. Rowena’s mouth. It was hard to remember that this wasn’t happening to me. I wasn’t being pulled toward the pond, didn’t have shards of pain in my throat from being choked. I couldn’t tell who had my wrists, who was even now shoving me under the water and holding me down. I couldn’t see properly. Panic and whatever drink I’d been forced to swallow made me hazy. The cold water was soft. I tried to struggle, kicked futilely. My lungs ached.
I snapped back into my own body with a strangled gasp.
“Violet, are you quite well?” Xavier asked me, clearly concerned.
I sipped at my lemonade to calm my throat before speaking. My hands were trembling. “A stitch in my side,” I explained. “My corset must be too tight.”
He flushed and I remembered belatedly that ladies weren’t supposed to mention their corsets. I followed his embarrassed gaze to the hem of my skirt, which was becoming damp, water unfolding like a blue rose. Rowena.
I smiled weakly. “Oh dear,” I mumbled. “I must have spilled some of my drink.”
I tried to keep my expression pleasant, even as Rowena flew through the room like a violent wind, scattering lily petals and water droplets as she went. Her mouth was stretched open, hideously wide as she keened. I could think of no other word for it. It was thunder and rain and ice shattering into a thousand sharp, angry pieces.
The soiree went on, as if everything were perfectly normal.
Tabitha accepted her shawl from a maid; Caroline stood just as straight-backed as she always did. Lord Jasper laughed at some jest, Wentworth ate another handful of macaroons. Mother flirted with a young man half her age and then turned to repeat the procedure with a man twice her age. Young girls giggled; young men continued to play cards at the tables under the window. A woman in w
hite satin played Mozart at the piano without missing a note.
Water hammered at the windows. The fine hairs on my arms stood up, like soldiers at attention. I suppressed a shiver. I stuck my hand in my pocket and scattered salt as unobtrusively as possible on the ground by my chair.
“Strange,” Xavier murmured, and for a moment I thought he’d seen me. “I hadn’t thought we’d get a storm tonight,” he continued to my great relief.
I kept my eyes on Rowena while trying to smile at Xavier. She circled the room over and over again, trying to catch my attention, clearly distraught. But she wouldn’t stop or pause long enough to single anyone out. I was starting to feel dizzy and overstimulated.
“Are you sure you’re well, Miss Willoughby?” Xavier asked solicitously.
Then in one sudden moment Rowena came apart like rain. There was a massive clap of thunder that rattled the windows. Several people jumped, spilling drinks. Rain hissed at the glass and shook the roses.
“I believe this storm is giving me a bit of a headache,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “Perhaps I should say good night.”
“Good night, Miss Willoughby.” Xavier bowed over my hand. His hand was warm, soft under mine. Rowena followed me out into the foyer. I’d had enough of her theatrics for one night so I ignored her, gritting my teeth. I ought to have known that wouldn’t work. She made a whirling of cold and blurred lights around me.
Lord Jasper was at the front door, shaking Lord Kearsley’s hand. Xavier straightened and went to help his mother to the stairs. Mr. Travis stood in the doorway to the smoking room. Elizabeth and Colin waited impatiently for me by the potted ferns.
All too far away to be any help at all.
Even the shout from Mr. Travis and the sight of Colin fighting his way out of the fern fronds didn’t quite make sense. Only Rowena’s face coming at me so suddenly, shrieking soundlessly, had me staggering back a step.
That one step was just enough to get me out of the direct path of the heavy chandelier, dropping from its hook in the ceiling and scattering lit candles as it fell.
Sir Wentworth appeared out of nowhere, yanking me out of the way. The crystal drops of the chandelier shattered and skittered in pieces across the floor, like icicles falling from a tree in winter. A candle landed near my foot, extinguishing itself with a plume of dark smoke. The smell of burning wax filled the foyer. The other guests stood where they were, frozen and shocked. Lord Jasper was the first to break the moment.
Haunting Violet Page 14