A Merry Little Murder

by Beth Byers

  “Then she wouldn’t have left.”

  Lila nodded. “We have to go. We have to take these things. We have to figure this out.”

  They stacked up what they could and returned to the house. The two of them took over the dining room table, stacking the letters by year and then by month. When they were finished, the letters progressed from a year after Ethan’s death when the writer assumed Harriet was done grieving.

  Her love had been lost, a year had passed, the war was over, it was time—he wrote—to move on.

  Harriet’s responses were written in her journal, and she had been baffled and angry. She finished her rage-filled entry with, How could I be done with loving Ethan after only a year? How could I ever be done loving him? I can still see his face so clearly. Those blue eyes that loved me. He knew me and loved me even when I was awkward. It was him who loved me first. His strong fingers that made me feel safe. His words that told me I was everything, that made me believe it. When you have been everything…what else is there?

  Violet’s hand trembled with emotion as she traced Harriet’s words on the page. She looked up to see Lila crying even harder. “You are everything to Denny.”

  “I know,” she said. It wasn’t an arrogant statement or an ungrateful one. Lila knew she was loved. “I can’t imagine carrying on as Harriet did. If I had lost Denny like Harriet lost Ethan, I couldn’t have been bright again. I couldn’t have sung those songs and been a star like she was. She was so much stronger than I knew.”

  Violet and Lila were certain after reading the letters and the journal entries that they’d discovered the words of the killer. It wasn’t any one specific thing in the letters so much as there had been a man who had followed Harriet, haunted her really. Doing that—it wasn’t normal. If you were that outside of what was normal, how far was it really to kill someone?

  What, in fact, were the chances that a girl could be traced and tormented for years and then murdered and have it be two different people? No. No, it must be this ‘admirer.’

  “An admirer,” Lila growled. She slammed her hand down on the table. “What kind of sick joke is this? What kind of demon-engineered prank to force your love on someone like this? To haunt her? He is lucky he never had the strength to sign his actual name. He wouldn’t have to worry about justice from the police. I would run him down with the auto, back it up, and run him down again.”

  Violet rose and paced. When they’d returned to the house, Victor and Denny had left, so they were alone with all of this information. Jack hadn’t returned. Here they were with what was certainly clues about the killer, and even after sending out a servant to uncover the men, they were nowhere to be found.

  Violet groaned as she paced. “They’re avoiding us.”

  Lila looked away from the window. “What do you mean?”

  “They don’t want us to get wrapped up in the investigation. They want to keep us safe. As though just because they aren’t around, we’d stop using our minds and figuring things out. We’ll just have to go and see what Martha knows. She strikes me as a girl who would lurk in the hedges and watch. She might have even seen this admirer.”

  Lila’s brows lifted and then she nodded. They left the house and Violet drove over to Lila’s home. Lila’s parents weren’t there, but Martha had been confined to her room. On the one side, Violet hated that she had been. On the other hand, Violet wanted to scold the girl and possibly slap her palm with a ruler.

  Martha was feeling sorry for herself when she arrived at her bedroom door. She scowled at both Lila and Violet, who let themselves into her room. The girl had been sitting at her vanity, playing with makeup. She’d strewn her bedroom with her dresses, and Violet guessed that she’d spent the day examining her wardrobe and finding it wanting.

  “Are you an animal?” Lila demanded. “You don’t have your own maid, you know.”

  Martha gasped. “Betty will take care of it.”

  “You are a spoilt brat,” Lila told her little sister, who crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.

  “Enough,” Violet told them both. “Martha is young. She’ll grow up.”

  “I am grown up,” Martha shot back. “My friend, Alice Carson, is getting married. You don’t get married if you’re a child.”

  “Yes, you do,” Lila said. “If your friend is your age, she’s both a child and getting married.”

  “Please stop,” Violet said. “Martha, you called Harriet a whore the other day.”

  “She was one,” Martha said with a scowl, shooting her sister a nasty look. “Being dead doesn’t change the truth.”

  Before Lila could shoot back a biting remark, Violet raised her hand. “Tell me why.”

  “Ah.” Martha examined Violet as though it was a trap, but Violet simply raised her brows and waited. Every time Lila started to shift, Violet pressed her friend’s hand and waited. A long few minutes later, Martha said, “She was engaged to both of the Henry Wickhams.”

  “Why else?” Violet demanded and waited.

  “Robert and Donald were both infatuated with her. I am…was…just as pretty as Harriet, but they didn’t even see me.”

  “Who else? Why else?”

  “I saw a man leaving her house once. When her parents were gone. I had stopped by to ask if I could borrow her pearls for a party I was going to, and he was leaving.”

  “Who was it?” Lila demanded sharply.

  Martha jumped. She started to answer but Violet cut in. “It’s important that you are very clear about who you saw or thought you saw.”

  Martha sniffed. “I don’t know. I don’t know who it was. I didn’t see his face. A man. Wearing a suit and a hat. I only saw him from behind. By the time I reached the house, he was gone.”

  “Where did he go? To the road? Out of the back?”

  Martha blinked and frowned. “Well…he must have gone through the break in the hedges. There’s a lane on the other side towards the Wickham house.”

  Violet glanced at Lila, who nodded and added, “Anyone from around here would know of that lane and that break in the hedges. Not just either of the Henry Wickhams.”

  Still though, Violet thought. If they shared a lane, would that explain why the person who had been watching Harriet always knew where she was? Perhaps it was as simple as a good view.

  As though reading her thoughts, Lila said, “Harriet wasn’t always home. She wouldn’t have been easily seen at all the other places. Or all the time she spent with Ethan’s mother. She lived quite on the other side of town.”

  Violet nodded. “It’s a start.” Violet examined Martha, who had been trying to follow their conversation and failing. “Is that the only reason you called her a whore?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Having someone leave your house when you aren’t home isn’t a crime for the victim,” Violet told the girl.

  “Unless she was there.”

  Lila snorted. “You really should spend more time thinking about what you say before it comes out of your mouth.”

  “I found her reading a secret letter,” Martha shot back. “She wouldn’t tell me what was in it. But I saw it was written by a man’s hand. She was pretending to mourn Ethan and carrying on with someone else. He was probably married. That’s probably why she wouldn’t talk about it. She just used Ethan to…to…make herself look virtuous and hide her affairs.”

  Chapter 13

  Violet and Lila glanced at each other. It was getting later in the day and the time for luncheon had come and gone.

  “I need to eat.” Lila adjusted her hat and pushed back her hair. She was so flushed, she was glistening.

  Violet reached over and squeezed Lila’s hand. “We’ll figure this out.”

  Her aunt and uncle hadn’t appeared, so they left the treats they’d brought, took what they needed, and headed out. Lila was certain her aunt would have said something about the hunter of Harriet if her mother had known when they told her about the murder.

  There was no
need, Lila shared, to explain about the letters and someone watching Harriet. It would be painful for her mother to realize that Harriet kept so much from her.

  “We need help.” Violet carefully pulled away from Harriet’s home. “We need Kate.”

  “You want Kate because Victor is half in love with her.”

  “She’s also edging towards brilliant and a woman. No man is going to understand to the same degree these things.”

  Lila glanced over. “Well…rather…”

  Violet nodded and slapped her hand against the steering wheel. “She must have been half-afraid for so long. Yet so brave to keep on taking care of Mrs. Knight.”

  Lila wiped away a tear. Violet hadn’t even realized her friend had started to cry. She reached over and took Lila’s hand. Lila gulped back a tear and then wiped her next tear away and put on a brave smile. In the move, Violet could imagine the same expression on Harriet’s face. Vi shuddered with the idea of it—that brave face Harriet must have carried with her despite the burden she was hiding.

  She hadn’t had anyone to turn to for help. How alone she must have felt. Despite that, Violet had liked her immensely. She had seemed like a lot of fun and Vi had been sure that if Harriet had lived in London, the twins would have been part of the same group.

  The level of crime that had been committed against Harriet was growing in Violet’s mind. It wasn’t just the murder, which was terrible indeed. Her peace of mind, her excitement, her safety had been stolen in advance. Had Harriet even been surprised when she was being murdered? Maybe the only surprise had been the identity of her ‘admirer.’

  The burden of what Harriet carried was weighing Violet down. She didn’t see how Jack had been able to be involved in crimes like this one after another. How did he avoid having it ruin the rest of his life?

  Lila directed Violet to Kate’s home. “Turn on your quiet face and solemn thoughts.”

  Violet glanced to her friend. How did you turn on a quiet face? Just treat Mrs. Lancaster like her stepmother, Violet thought. She could do that. She parked the car outside the house. It was a nice place, smaller than Lila and Denny’s, but Violet would have been happy to live in it.

  The steps to the front door were wet with rain that had washed the snow away, and the skies were grey again, matching how Violet was feeling inside—grey with a fire of rage.

  Kate opened the door when Lila knocked. She lifted her brow and then stepped back. “How is your family?”

  “Katherine!” The call was sharp and irritated. “Bring them in! Goodness’ sake girl.”

  Kate smirked instead of blushing and won Violet over a little more. Kate led the way to a parlor where her mother was sitting. “It’s Lila, mother. Her friend, Lady Violet Carlyle, as well. They’ve stopped by to…” Kate looked back and waited.

  “To beg for mercy,” Lila said to Denny’s aunt. “I…well…I’d like to beg for Kate’s assistance even though I know how you rely upon her. May I introduce my friend, Lady Violet Carlyle?”

  Vi smiled prettily and held out her hand. In her mind, she was whispering “solemn” over and over again.

  Mrs. Lancaster looked like an older version of Kate combined with a Catholic nun. Kate’s mother wore a long sleeve, white blouse and a dark grey skirt covered in a grey cardigan. She frowned at the two intruders. “I am not one to leave my family struggling with their burdens. Losing Harriet…you have my deepest condolences. That is not a loss that…”

  Mrs. Lancaster looked at Kate and despite the tales of a controlling mother, there was clear love in that expression. Violet’s judgement of the woman changed, and Mrs. Lancaster won Violet’s affection while Kate sparked Violet’s envy. To have a mother? Invaluable. Violet took a seat near Mrs. Lancaster and grinned at her.

  “We’re just about to have tea. Simple enough, but hearty, if you’d like to join us.”

  “Yes, Aunt, please,” Lila said. “We missed luncheon taking care of other things.”

  A maid brought out a tray loaded with bread and butter, biscuits, and simple sandwiches. Vi wasn’t usually speechless, but the pressure of not ruining things for Victor was causing her to second-guess everything she might have said.

  Violet’s mouth twisted and she glanced at Lila, who had to fight a grin. Kate, however, stepped in and rescued Violet as though she’d been doing it her whole life.

  “Mama, Violet is also a Shakespeare fan.”

  The woman’s lips pursed. She sniffed sharply before she said, “Anyone with half a mind enjoys Shakespeare. Lady Carlyle doesn’t seem to be a complete idiot though you never can tell with the peerage.”

  Violet bit her lip to choke back a laugh while Lila cleared her throat. That just turned Mrs. Lancaster’s attention to Lila instead. “I think the question we all have is whether you’re barren, whether you’re using those new-fangled and ill-advised ways of preventing a child, or perhaps, your husband just prefers to warm other beds? Denny’s uncle, Peter Lancaster, was one to stray far and wide. Perhaps Denny is the same?”

  Violet choked, bit the inside of her mouth, and then carefully set her teacup down. Lila, on the other hand, said, “The new-fangled option.”

  Mrs. Lancaster lifted a brow. “At least you’re not barren. All that money that Denny just inherited being lost to him and passed out of the family to whoever Lila makes her heir. Women always live longer.” Mrs. Lancaster turned to Violet. “That’s how you inherited, isn’t it? The widowed wife left the money to her own family?”

  It took Violet a moment to react. “Well, yes. I suppose so.”

  “You suppose so?” Mrs. Lancaster’s expression was mocking and Violet felt the need to explain.

  “My aunt’s husband died quite a while before her. She took the money she inherited and grew it into a fortune as a way to…ah…spend her time? I believe that his nephew received as much as she inherited initially, if not more.”

  “So you got the difference?” Mrs. Lancaster asked sharply and then refilled everyone’s tea. “You’re too thin child. Eat.”

  Violet took another bite of her sandwich at the demand and then said, “Well, myself, my brother, our cousin. We all received some of it.”

  Mrs. Lancaster sniffed, eyeing Violet as though what she said was clearly a lie. Perhaps a bit of a hedging of the truth as Violet did inherit the largest portion.

  “Mama,” Kate said as Violet took another bite at Mrs. Lancaster’s sharp order. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be prying into their private affairs.”

  “As though we haven’t heard already. This one,” Mrs. Lancaster gestured to Violet, “told this one,” she gestured to Lila. “Now we’ve all heard about the money. I suppose we can dissect it behind closed doors if you prefer, Kate. It’s not like they don’t know Lila blabbed, seeing as how Martha has been throwing herself at the male twin.”

  “I confessed to blabbing,” Lila said. “I hadn’t realized Martha would be quite so forceful when she’d heard about the money.”

  Violet met Lila’s gaze and decided to just be herself. She explained, “My aunt trained all of her nieces and nephews that spent time with her about managing an estate and money. She left the bulk of her funds to me because she felt as though I might not lose it all. I suppose if she’d announced her intent, the others would have studied and listened.”

  “So you listened?” Mrs. Lancaster’s expression was blank. “Why?”

  Violet set her sandwich aside. “Victor and I were orphans as far as parenting went, though our Father yet lives and he married again. My aunt loved us like a mother. I’d have learned Greek if that was her passion. I wanted her attention, her passion was building a fortune, therefore, I learned about managing money as well.”

  Mrs. Lancaster nodded once as if Violet had been approved. “Which is your favorite Shakespeare play?”

  Vi had not been expecting that question and she paused just long enough for Mrs. Lancaster’s expression to alter as if doubting Violet had read them at all.

  “Twelfth Night,�
�� Violet said. “Viola is a heroine of mine. She’s smart, funny, proves that women can care for themselves, but she still finds love in the end.”

  “If music be the food of love, play on,” Mrs. Lancaster said. “That applied to Harriet, I think, and her Ethan. Those two sang like angels before he died. Too many duets with the perfect partner. She’d never have fallen in love again. Though, her voice and her happy personality made many a man love her.”

  “Of whom do you speak?” Lila set aside her teacup and leaned towards her aunt. “It’s important, please.”

  Mrs. Lancaster’s expression was sarcastic as she said, “Yes, dear. That’s rather clear I think. You don’t strangle some poor girl at a party unless you love her enough to hate her. I imagine the police will figure that out eventually. Even if they have to stumble onto the truth. Men are rather stupid when it comes to women, aren’t they? All this time thinking we need their guidance as though we haven’t been ruling the roost and their lives the whole time while they were unaware.”

  “We’ll make sure the police discover the truth,” Violet declared. “Harriet will get peace and justice even if she doesn’t get her life.”

  Mrs. Lancaster pursed her lips. “I like you more than I thought I would. You may have Kate to help you with things. As for the men? I’m not sure there isn’t one in town who wasn’t half in love with Harriet after she sang. She was beautiful, which is a necessity, I think, to have quite so many puppies loving you. Once she sang…well…everyone loved her. When you added in her kindness to Mrs. Knight, Harriet’s lingering love for her soldier? She became an unattainable angel. Men do want what they can’t have.”

  “Did you ever see anyone watching her? Maybe following her?”

  Mrs. Lancaster turned slowly to Violet and demanded, “What do you mean?”

  “We found letters,” Lila told her aunt. “We took her journal and the letters. We’re trying to find out who was writing them. They are…disturbing. Violet and I think that the writer of the letters is Harriet’s killer.”

  “Letters?” Mrs. Lancaster said. Her teacup shook on her plate and she looked ill when she turned to Kate. “Show them!”