Meddlesome Madness: A Short Story Collection

by Beth Byers

  “What are we supposed to do when the servants have a half-day?”

  “Take care of ourselves,” Violet told him flatly. “You aren’t on the path to having someone take care of you all the time.”

  “Just because you haven’t hired another maid doesn’t mean that the rest of the world doesn’t need one.”

  Violet stared at him, baby Vi Junior in her arms. She took in a deep breath and then slowly released it before she growled out, “Who do you think waits on the servants?”

  Geoffrey blinked at her stupidly and then suggested, “Perhaps they help each other?”

  Violet stared at him until he blushed. She lifted a brow.

  “Perhaps they take care of themselves?” he guessed.

  “Yes, oh spoiled one,” Violet told him with a sigh. “Yes. The vast majority of humanity takes care of themselves. Geoffrey, Geoffrey, Geoffrey…your income will barely take care of you.”

  He looked aside as he realized that it would be more than the occasional half days for him to fend for himself. “Victor had a man.”

  “Victor and I both worked and shared expenses,” Violet reminded Geoffrey gently. “We also had an inheritance from our mother that helped.”

  Geoffrey looked at Violet so intently that she said, “Your mother will leave you whatever she has, but I don’t believe it will be much. She wouldn’t be so insistent for you to inherit from one of us if she had enough to give you what you seem to expect.”

  Geoffrey didn’t answer, but he didn’t pout either. He simply nodded and then went back to bouncing baby Agatha. Both of the babies were awake, but they were quiet and happy. They’d eaten and were alert, their little fists waving inside of their swaddled blankets.

  Violet led Geoffrey up to the nursery. They each took a seat in a rocking chair and Violet cross-examined Geoffrey on his friends while the babies gurgled and cooed and finally slipped back into sleep.

  “Why don’t you like Thomas Spencer?” she asked after his recitation of disliked individuals, which he had far more of than friends.

  Geoffrey’s answer made Violet’s eye twitch. She cut into his reply when she couldn’t handle it anymore. “My goodness, Geoffrey, why are you so sure you’re right?”

  “He’s an idiot, Vi.”

  “Geoffrey, we’ve been calling you a wart and thinking you were a wart, but I never expected your peers to feel the same. The only boy you like is named Marvin? And he’s the mean one who picks on the littler kids?”

  Geoffrey shot Violet a look that told her she didn’t understand, but she had been to school as well. If anything, Vi thought that girls might be more vicious and more likely to drive one to madness.

  “Geoffrey, do you want to be what you’re becoming?”

  Before he could answer the lights flashed off. He gasped and Violet jumped as well.

  “We just need to check,” Violet said, feeling herself shake a little. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the dark, it was that Kate would murder Violet if anything happened to the babies. It would be unnecessary, of course, as Vi would never survive anything happening to the sweetlings.

  She slowly rose. The curtains of the nursery were open and the summer day left them with enough light to see by.

  “I’ll check on what’s happening,” Violet told him.

  “Do you know how?” The scathing tone in his voice was one she hadn’t heard in the last few weeks, but she suspected that her comments had been enough to set him into a poorly hidden rage. She turned to mock him, but as she opened her mouth there was a crash on the lower floor. Both of them started and then Violet went carefully back to bouncing little Vi, who had jumped at the noise. She burbled and shifted, letting out a soft mew, but she didn’t cry.

  “What was that?” Geoffrey hissed.

  Before Violet could answer, there was the sound of a loud curse.

  “Bloody hell, Vi!” Geoffrey whispered tightly, then bounced baby Agatha as she began to fuss.

  Violet hadn’t stopped moving, rocking the baby as her mind raced. Jack was off on a case, the servants were out of the house, and someone was downstairs.

  “Maybe it’s the servants,” Violet said and then answered the hole in that logic immediately. “No, they would have told us what happened. They knew we were going to be here.”

  “They went to the pictures,” Geoffrey reminded her archly. “They had already bought the tickets.”

  He’d been listening at doors again, but it was a problem for another day. She motioned to Geoffrey to move silently. The two of them tiptoed through the nursery, each with a baby in arms.

  Violet glanced up and down the servant’s stairs. She led the way up and Geoffrey sent her a shocking glance, but she had little doubt that whoever was housebreaking wasn’t after the spare uniform of the parlor maid. Vi pressed her forefinger into little Vi’s mouth to give the baby something to suckle while they moved as silently as possible.

  “They’re loud,” Geoffrey whispered so low that Violet barely heard him.

  “They think they’re alone.” Violet answered just as quietly as they slipped into the small maid’s bedroom. Violet gestured Geoffrey onto the narrow bed and then handed him the second twin. Still whispering, she said, “Keep them as quiet as you can. Let them suck on your finger. I’ll lock the door, but you need to put the chair under the handle as well. Make it as hard as possible to get in here.”

  Geoffrey shook his head and to Violet’s delight, he said, “Let me go.”

  “No,” she told him flatly and then grinned at him with a merry wink, “but thank you for offering.”

  “It should be me. I’m the boy.”

  “It should be me,” Violet said, “I’m the girl. Also, I’m the adult.”

  Geoffrey’s gaze narrowed as Violet winked once again and then took the maid’s key from the hook near the door. “Put the chair under the door and keep the babies quiet if you can,” she repeated. “If you can’t, do not open the door for anyone other than me, Kate, or Victor.”

  Geoffrey shook his head at her and said again, “It should be me.”

  Violet closed the door in his face and locked it with the key. After a long moment of staring at the key, she hid it three doors down in the shoe of a one of the housekeeper. Violet closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for the wart and the twins before removing her shoes and stockings. She needed to be silent indeed.

  She hid her shoes and stockings as well just in case anyone went hunting for the person causing trouble and found them outside of where she’d hidden the babies. Violet tiptoed down the stairs, almost not daring to breathe, and heard men’s voices. She couldn’t be sure how many men were in the house.

  Violet bit her lip and considered if she dared to glance around the edge of the door. The clanging, she guessed, was the silver being thrown into a bag. But what about the safe in the library? Had they made their way to Kate’s bedroom yet where her jewelry was too readily available?

  “You shouldn’t have messed with the lights,” a man’s voice growled.

  “Didn’t mean to,” another shot back. “I was cutting the telephone line just in case and got the wrong ones. Light the candles.”

  “Idiot,” the first man said.

  “Shut it, both of you,” another said. “Get the stuff and get out.”

  Violet heard the clanging and dared to dart around the door frame, then out the back door. Glass littered the floor from the window in the door, and she had to bite back a squeak when a shard cut her bare foot. She stepped past the door, checked her foot, pulled out a glass splinter and then hurried around the side of the house. She had to dive into the flower beds when she saw a shadow in her brother’s library. She lifted up carefully to peer inside and nearly flew through the window to beat the man about the head when he tossed their manuscript aside.

  She crawled past the windows of the library and stayed low to the ground until she reached the front of the house. Then she dared to rise to her feet and run at the door. She clanged the be
ll frantically and then dove behind the shrubbery. No one came to the door, but Vi grinned at the near-certain worry she’d caused the thieves. She might not be able to call for the constables, but she was tempted to make the thieves call for help instead.

  She made her way around the house, snatching a gardener’s shovel that had been left near the kitchen garden with a hand trowel and soiled pair of gloves. The babies were at risk as long as the thieves were in the house, and for that matter—so were Violet and Geoffrey. The Wart might be a spoiled rotter, but he was slowly improving. She might like him quite a bit if he were given the chance to reach adulthood.

  Vi pressed her back against the house and felt as though she could hear both Jack and Victor yelling at her for being foolish. Perhaps she should have stayed locked in the upper reaches of the house with her brother and the babies. But then again…the babies. Violet’s gaze narrowed. They needed help. The next nearest house was too far to make a run for it, and Vi would never forgive herself if anything happened to the babies while she was seeking help.

  Violet grabbed a handful of loose stones that framed the flowerbed border and hurried back to the side of the house. She chucked a rock towards the library window then dove into a hydrangea bush. She heard the window open and a man shouted, “Who’s out there?”

  She closed her eyes, holding her breath as she prayed the leaves and flowers of the tree nearby would be sufficient to hide her in the bushes.

  There was a curse. “Someone’s playing jokes.”

  “Take care of it, Larry,” another said. Vi grinned, pleased that they’d split off, and tightened her grip on the shovel. She listened carefully, staying hidden in the bushes, and waited until a man appeared.

  “‘Lo?” he called after coming out the library’s French door.

  Idiot, Vi thought. As if she was going to answer that call. She waited for him to pass.

  “‘Lo? Anyone out here?”

  When he was a step beyond her, Vi moved out from behind the bush, silent as a wraith, and slammed the shovel into the back of his head. He crumpled with a groan. She kicked the man to ensure he was truly unconscious.

  He was a big fellow with blond hair, a large stomach, and watery blue eyes when she lifted one of his lids. When he didn’t move, Vi removed the belt around her waist, then shoved him onto his bulging stomach, trying not to huff as she did so. She used the belt to bind his hands behind his feet. Folks like this fine fellow never expected an earl’s daughter to have the skills one earned as a twin to an equally mischievous male brother.

  Violet rolled the man, using her arms and her legs to do so as he was a big man, until he was nearly as hidden in the bushes as she had been, and then hauled his shoes off, finding a ripe pair of socks and shoving them down his throat. She made sure he was breathing and then glanced through the window of the library with barely the edge of her face showing.

  The same gent was working in the library, walking over the shreds of her and Victor’s manuscript while concocting something to get into the safe. It looked, she thought, like something that would blow up.

  She slid back down the side of the house and considered. If there was a controlled explosion, the babies might wake and reveal themselves. If there was an uncontrolled explosion caused by these fools, the house might be set on fire and her brother and the babies may become victims of these fools.

  What was she going to do? There was at least two more men in the house, and they were all too likely to overpower her. She couldn’t, however, risk the babies and do nothing. She hurried towards the front of the house and rang the doorbell as she stood pressed to the side. With her heart in her throat, she stepped into the shadow of a pillar while the door swung open. Before someone could even curse and return to their thieving, Violet slammed the man with the shovel. The man crumpled, giving her a glimpse of a large nose, dark eyes, and a scowl before he was at her feet and someone was shouting from beyond the front door of the house.

  Violet had to run, dodging past the downed fellow and through the door, trusting that her knowledge of the house would save her. She heard someone calling, “Dougie, you down?” She used that moment to tiptoe into the library and rush across the floor, stealing anything that could be used to blow the safe.

  She scooped up as much as she could, dumping it into the window seat and then darting behind the curtains. With the French doors open, she hoped that they’d think she’d taken her booty and escaped back outside.

  Swearing filled the air from the hallway near the front door where she’d left her second victim lying. Violet covered her mouth to muffle her breathing as someone stepped quietly into the room.

  The curse she heard next was shocking, and she scrunched her eyes tight, telling herself to run through the jiu jitsu she’d learned. She bit back every maidenly squeak her body wanted to release.

  Vi knew she’d caused damage, but now that she’d revealed there was someone defending the house, she knew she might not be able to win. Her mind was racing with possibilities and realizing that they were all unlikely.

  “What’s that?” the man in the library said and Violet had to bite back a groan when she heard the tell-tale sound of a baby crying. There was little doubt that whichever wasn’t crying would join in quickly.

  “Sounds like a kitten,” a low voice said, a new man that she’d yet to see or hear.

  “It’s a baby, you demmed fool,” the first man told him.

  “There wasn’t supposed to be a baby,” the low voice replied.

  Violet bit down on her lip to hide her gasp. What had they been told about her brother’s house? Who was the betrayer? If she’d have been free to speak, she might well have cursed.

  “Find it,” the low voice growled. “Whoever’s causing trouble will come out of hiding when the baby’s on the line.”

  “I didn’t sign on to hurt a little one.”

  The low voice growled at the first man and Violet heard the thump of a solid blow. “No one asked you what you signed on for. Get to it.”

  The man left the library and Violet waited. The other had been silent so far. Was he gone as well? Or had he waited to see if she’d dare to show her face? The first man had taken the stairs in the front of the house and would have to find the babies while Violet knew where they were. She also knew where the ivy grew thick and deep on the side of the house.

  The thought of the babies had her daring to sidle to the right and peek out from behind the curtain. A man with thick dark hair, thick, broad shoulders, and the thick low voice was in the hall. He was silent and unmoving, probably waiting for her to appear again.

  Violet risked all and tiptoed across the library to the open window and was out and into the bushes with near silence. She hurried around the house to the back where the ivy was thickest and then took hold, climbing up when the biggest, meanest villain was watching for her in the hall.

  Perhaps he didn’t think that anyone left behind with a baby would dare such a thing. He should never underestimate the motherly instincts of a woman. The twins might not be her own but they were part of her. Violet also knew her brother well, better than all those living, including his beloved wife, which meant she knew where he kept his revolver.

  She climbed onto the balcony outside of his bedroom and waited with her heart in her mouth as she saw a shadow pass in the hall. She was hidden behind a gauzy curtain, but whoever was making his way through the house looking for the twins would never imagine she’d be on the balcony. The moment his shadow passed, Violet eased the door of the balcony open and darted into Victor’s dressing room. She pulled a hat box from the top of the closet, checked the gun for ammunition and considered.

  The man would be looking for the babies, but Geoffrey had quieted them. It was a race between Violet, who knew where they were but was bound by how she could get to them, and the man, who was secure in his strength.

  She bit down on her lip and then hurried back to the balcony. If she kept climbing, she could possibly reach a window out
side of one of the servants’ bedrooms. But would it be unlocked? She could only hope that the servant had never seen a reason to lock the one so high. Violet tucked revolver into her lingerie—all she had to work with since her belt was currently occupied—and took hold of the ivy once again. It took her too long to reach the top, especially as she had to go slower as the ivy grew thinner, and she could hear the babies crying again.

  Someone had told these men that the house would be empty. Or her brother had been persuaded from the house. Had it been one of their trusted servants? No. They’d never work at the house if they were anything but trustworthy.

  It had to be the gent who had invited Kate and Victor out. But why? Had he just assumed that the babies wouldn’t be home or did he just not care?

  A Greek scholar in this area of the country had struck Violet as odd, but Kate had been so delighted at the thought of conversing with him, though not so much about leaving the twins behind. Surely it had to be him. Was he even a scholar? He was a fool if he thought Kate would not notice. Violet felt that if they survived this night, the supposed Greek scholar might not survive the next one.

  She hurried up another level of the ivy and then it broke under her. She bit back a scream as the ivy failed, but she caught herself with her anchored hand and then tried again. Whatever it took for the babies. She reached the window as the ivy pulled away from the wall and pushed it up as slowly and quietly as possible, clinging to the sill. The sound of the man banging his shoulder against the servant door drove Violet through the window and across the small room.

  She took a slow breath as she cracked the door. She stepped into the hall with the revolver leveled. He must have sensed her behind him for he turned quickly and froze. He met her gaze and she used her free hand to press her forefinger against her lips. She expected him to be angry, but if anything there was relief.

  She took a step away from the door she’d come out. “Step into that room.”

  He moved silently and she followed.

  “Sit down.” She nodded at the bed, holding the revolver steady.