Murder & The Heir

by Beth Byers

  Her friends watched her flip through her dresses to find one with sleeves and Lila’s gaze was sharp while Gwennie’s was wide and worried. Of the two of them, it would be Lila who would fight off an attacker, Violet suddenly thought. She followed that up by hoping that somehow neither of them would come any closer to such a situation than Violet already had. She knew too well that she had been lucky. Beatrice had come at the right moment and she hadn’t let Theodophilus scare her off.

  “What do you like to do Beatrice?”

  “Oh…um…”

  “Do you like working here?”

  “I suppose so,” Beatrice said slowly.

  “We’re going to talk about that later. Stay away from Theodophilus. Tell your uncle I said to keep you and the other girls together and away from him.”

  “Oh I don't think she has to worry,” Lila said as Beatrice paled. “If you think your brother will let someone manhandle you and stay in the same house as you, you are very much mistaken, my dear.”

  Beatrice brightened at that statement while Gwennie rose.

  “We’re late, girls.” Gwennie stood, tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and leaned into the mirror to adjust her lipstick.

  They walked down to the dining room. Aunt Agatha was sitting at the table with the others, but Algernon, Theodophilus, Denny, and Victor were missing.

  “Tardiness is incredibly rude,” Aunt Agatha said.

  “I…” Violet glanced over to her friends and they both shrugged. “I apologize for myself and my friends.”

  “Sit,” Aunt Agatha snapped. “Hargreaves.”

  Hargreaves entered the dining room and servants followed placing bowls of fish soup on the table.

  “Where is your brother?”

  “Ahhh…”

  “Don’t play games with me, Violet.” Agatha’s gaze pinned Violet against the chair and she cleared her throat and glanced at Lila whose gaze was fixed on her soup.

  “I believe you would prefer a full explanation in private, ma’am.”

  Agatha searched Violet’s face and then cleared her throat and said, “I didn’t expect it to drizzle today. It has been rather colder than last year, I think.”

  John Davies picked up the conversation thread and mentioned how the hot weather affected the roses. Once John stepped in, low murmuring carried across the table.

  Jack was seated next to Violet once again and he leaned in and asked, “Where is your brother?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, and took a bite of her soup.

  He cleared his throat. “I believe you do.”

  “He is taking care of a problem. His exact whereabouts are unknown.”

  She could feel Jack’s gaze on her and refused to look his way.

  “Does it have anything to do with my case? You and your brother need to stay out of it for your own good.”

  Violet looked at Jack at that statement unable to hide her anger. “My brother and I will do anything we deem necessary to protect Aunt Agatha, however, he is currently being a protective brother rather than a protective nephew.”

  Jack’s brows rose and Violet scowled at him before she placed her napkin next to her bowl. Luncheon needed to be over soon. Aunt Agatha’s cook had outdone himself and the soup was replaced by roasted chicken and potatoes and then finally ices. Violet excused herself as soon as luncheon was over and went looking for her brother with Lila following along since she’d promised both her husband and Victor to neither be alone or allow Violet to be alone.

  “Miss,” Beatrice hissed from a doorway and then waved them into a small parlor near the billiards room. “Miss are you looking for your brother?”

  Violet nodded and Beatrice glanced around before she whispered, “He’s monitoring Mr. Theodophilus Smythe-Hill who sent for his bags. My uncle is to drive him to the train station for the afternoon train.”

  Violet’s brows rose and Beatrice said, “Oh miss. There was quite a row and your brother, well, your brother, he…” She glanced around again and said, “He punched Mr. Smythe-Hill right in jaw. He fell down and then…well…your brother kicked Mr. Smythe-Hill in the stomach while he was on the ground. Mr. Carlyle then lifted him up and did it all again. Mr. Smythe-Hill has quite a large bruise on his jaw, his nose might be broken. And even Mr. Algernon was assaulted. I believe Mr. Algernon may end with a bruise on his jaw and possibly even a black eye!”

  “Does he now?” Lila laughed. “This is why your brother will make such a dashing catch when he’s ready. The english bulldog is in him.”

  “He’s a lion not a bulldog.” Violet pressed her lips together to hide her grin and then said, “Well…I think we all agree that a form of justice has been served.”

  “Yes miss,” Beatrice said and then blushed. “I…well…I didn’t think Mr. Carlyle would be very happy if you came across him and Mr. Smythe-Hill before he leaves. It wasn’t my place to stop you, but…”

  “But you did just the right thing, doll,” Violet told Beatrice. “You really are one in a million. Now, I had better go apologize to my aunt and explain.”

  * * * * *

  Violet gave her aunt a very watered down explanation of what had occurred simply stating that Theodophilus insulted her and that Victor felt after such actions Theodophilus should Christmas elsewhere.

  Aunt Agatha’s mouth twisted up at that, staring at Violet long enough that she shifted around. “I see.”

  Violet rose to leave and Aunt Agatha said, “Tell your brother I expect the fisticuffs to cease.”

  Violet paused without looking back at her aunt and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  She then made her way to her brother’s room. It was empty, but she found the stack of papers their newest story. She read it, making notes as she went, clarifying dialogue. Once she was done, she took up the mantel of the storyteller adding several pages before her brother returned to his room.

  “Are you lost, luv?” He asked, flopping down on his bed. “Giles will be quite put out with me, I’ve ripped my blue-striped suit.”

  “There are sacrifices when you’re the conquering hero,” she told him. “Aunt Agatha wants the fisticuffs to cease, but I am happy they occurred.”

  Victor grinned in reply and she thought that they’d spent rather enough time on the snake.

  “The story is quite good. I like the sinister turn with the butler. Butler’s are so often shady creatures, knowing all of our deepest secrets without evening trying very hard. It seems quite unfair. Though, Hargreaves, is, of course, a treasure. His niece possibly surpasses him.”

  “Blimey bastards butlers are,” Victor agreed. “I’m glad to see you’ve picked up the pen, darling. We’re running a bit late for our deadline.”

  “I can finish it, if you’d like,” she told him. “As you may need to ice your knuckles.”

  “You say that so very blood-thirstily. I believe you like that I gave the snake a good pounding.”

  “It was a service to womankind. You, sir, are a dashing knight for damsels everywhere.”

  He grinned at her, but she could still see the banked rage in his gaze.

  “I understand you gave Algie a bit of a pounding as well.”

  “Violet he owes Theodophilus one thousand pounds.”

  Violet choked, dropping the pages she’d lifted to hand to Algernon. “Oh no.”

  “Theodophilus agreed to forgive it only if Algernon successfully introduced you to him and you married the blighter. That idiot Algie thought that the snake could just have you for the asking since you’re past your prime.”

  “He never!”

  “He did,” Victor said, lighting a cigarette and asking, “Pass me the ashtray, luv.”

  Violet handed him the ashtray and rose to pace. She paused here and there to straighten Victor’s hair oil and accoutrements and then adjust the alignment of the port decanter.

  “Could he really have offered me up like that?” She murmured after a few minutes of pacing and straightening.

  “I got it from Alg
ie’s own mouth, luv. After I punched it a time or two. Said he didn’t think the snake would manhandle you. Just do the pretty and you’d succumb.”

  Violet almost growled in reply.

  “Denny is seeing the snake all the way onto the train, just to be sure he doesn't try to pull a quick one.”

  “Vic,” Violet sighed, “This puts Algie rather high on the suspect list.”

  “Didn’t really see it in the old boy, myself,” Victor said as he lit a second cigarette. “Not sure I do, even now. Algie seemed baffled that Theo grabbed at you the way he did. When I told Algie I’d seen the fingermarks with my own eyes, he still didn’t quite believe me. Said he knew Theo could be a blighter, but he’d never seen him hurt a woman.”

  “Algie never did have a very good imagination. Or the understanding that a person might do something another would never consider.”

  “He’s a blind fool.”

  Violet sighed and then told Victor, “We’re being very neglectful friends to our guests.”

  “It’s why we brought old friends around with us, isn’t it? They know we needed them to do what they did today. Stick with you and me when we had business to attend to.”

  “We’ll have to have a party when we get home. Or perhaps one in Paris. Something special that they’ll enjoy.”

  “Shall we charter a boat for the Thames? Wine and dancing. Musicians on the water?”

  Violet nodded. “We need to write more stories if we keep throwing parties.”

  “Too right you are, sister. Back to work. No rest for the weary.”

  Violet laughed at him before she turned back to the typewriter working quickly while Victor read through her notes, made some of his own and started on the version they’d turn in from both of their notes. It would take a week or two, but their story would be off. If they were very focused, perhaps with a second story as well.

  Only finding the would be killer was the most important thing. But life had to continue didn’t it? Aunt Agatha would do her business the next day, even with guests in the house. Lila and Gwennie could be counted on to get Algie or John to play billiards with them and charm life details from the men. Perhaps, later that evening, after a drink or two they’d discover possible motives for the crime against their aunt.

  Chapter Twelve

  Violet woke to knocking on her door. When she opened it, she found a flustered Beatrice before her.

  “Oh miss! I’m sorry to wake you. But miss!”

  “Yes dear?” Violet said, opening the door to let Beatrice into the room. Violet tugged the girl to one of the chairs before the fire and pushed her into it before she pulled off her turban, ran a comb through her hair and then turned to the girl who’s gaze was wide and a little terrified. “What is it?”

  “It’s Mr. Wakefield.”

  A sudden horror struck Violet and she said, “Jack!”

  “Oh. No miss, it’s Mr. James Wakefield. He woke earlier than usual and came down the stairs and…and…someone had greased them! He fell.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “He broke his arm and banged his head well and good. The doctor has been called for, but Mr. Jack said that his father will be all right. But miss! Mrs. Davies normally gets up earlier on Thursdays to work with the housekeeper on the menu and go over the accounts before the day gets fully started.”

  “She does, doesn't she? It’s another attempt on my aunt’s life. I wish she would just retreat to safety. Her stubbornness is going to get her killed.”

  Beatrice’s eyes welled at that and Violet had to leave before she cried along with her. She crossed the hall and banged on her brother’s door before she stepped inside.

  “Violet! It’s the holidays,” he moaned. “I was up late again writing.”

  “There has been another attempt on Aunt Agatha’s life,” Violet said flatly. “She’s all right, but Mr. James Wakefield took a tumble from greased stairs and has a broken arm. The doctor is coming.”

  Victor cursed and rose, and Violet left him to ring for his man and get dressed. It was time to up their investigation.

  “Beatrice would you please go get coffee for my brother?”

  “Yes, of course miss.”

  “Be careful, my girl,” Violet said. “Whoever is doing this doesn’t seem to care if someone else is hurt. Mr. Wakefield has nearly died twice in defense of my aunt.”

  Beatrice’s gaze was worried as she nodded several times. “Yes miss. Of course miss. Please be careful as well. I think…well…I think you are at rather more risk than a housemaid.”

  Violet dressed in a hurry even though she knew that there was nothing she could do at the moment. When she reached the breakfast room, it was empty. She asked Hargreaves and he said, “Miss Meredith ate and has, I believe, gone to the library. Mr. Algernon has yet to appear. Mr. Jack Wakefield is with his father. Mr. John has eaten and taken his car into town to ‘lighten the load for the household.’”

  Violet’s brows rose and she said, “Have you sent in coffee or breakfast to the Misters Wakefield?”

  Hargreaves shook his head and she said, “Perhaps you’d better.”

  He nodded and disappeared into the kitchens. A few moments later while Violet sat at the table with a cup of tea, there was a ruckus at the front door. She rose and went to it guessing the household was to busy to attend the door when no one was expected. She opened it and stepped back in surprise at the sight of her Uncle Kingsley.

  He was a corpulent fellow with a good half of his hair gone and the rest on retreat. His chins waggled at the sight of her answering the door and his face was ruddy with either the cold or anger. She tried smiling at him to no avail.

  “Whatever are you opening doors for, gel? Where is Hargreaves? I’ve come in response to my fool boy who can’t handle matters on his own.”

  “Hargreaves is attending to a household emergency,” Violet replied gesturing for her uncle to enter.

  Uncle Kingsley barged through the door, dropping his coat, hat and gloves on a chair and blustering, “I am unsurprised to find Agatha’s house in a uproar. She seems to be losing her wits. I suppose you’re here for the bullion? Well it won’t do. Won’t do at all. That money should go to my generation.”

  Violet didn’t bother to answer that statement. “Aunt Agatha has yet to come downstairs, I believe. There is breakfast.”

  Uncle Kingsley stomped into the breakfast room, gaze darting about and then he rang the bell wildly. “No surprise my boy isn’t down here. Always was a lazy good-for-nothing.”

  Violet considered retreating but decided against it. She took a seat and returned to her tea when the doorbell rang again. This time she let in the doctor, leading him up to Mr. Wakefield’s room, past a servant who was scrubbing the stairs.

  “There seems to have been some grease on the stairs,” Violet told him when they passed the girl. “It caused Mr. James Wakefield’s accident.”

  “Did it now?” Doctor Cumming replied. He was bright enough to know there was more to the story and wise enough to not ask more questions.

  To say Jack Wakefield was infuriated wasn’t clear enough. The door opened, his furious gaze seemed to set her on fire, and she stepped back for Dr. Cumming to enter the room. Violet didn’t even attempt to stay. She just asked, “Do you need anything else?”

  “We’ve had quite enough,” Jack snapped.

  Violet flinched and an expression of regret passed over his face. His father called his name and Jack said, “Forgive me.” He then shut the door in her face. Violet shrugged, debated her options, and returned to the breakfast room.

  She set aside her cold tea and made a fresh cup, this time taking a plate of fruit, tomatoes, and eggs.

  Uncle Kingsley had a loaded plate, a large cup of tea, and a newspaper. He tossed the paper to the side and demanded, “What the dickens is happening, gel?”

  Violet sat quietly, desperately wishing for her brother, when a huge crash came from the east wing.

  “Oh dear,” Violet
said as Uncle Kingsley cursed. “I believe that might be the coffee tray we sent up.”

  “What in the bloody hell is happening here?” Uncle Kingsley demanded.

  “There has been an accident. I believe Mr. Jack Wakefield may have just lost his temper on the silver.”

  “And who the dickens is this ill-tempered Wakefield?” Uncle Kingsley yelled.

  Violet did not miss the irony as she calmly said, “Mr. James and Mr. Jack Wakefield are two of Aunt Agatha’s guests for the holidays.”

  “And they believe it is acceptable to throw about her silver? Time to send the woman off to bedlam before madness overcomes us all.”

  Violet’s gaze narrowed on her uncle and she snapped, “Mr. James Wakefield nearly lost his life in an accident this morning. The ire Mr. Jack Wakefield is surely justifiable given the near-loss of his father’s life.”

  “I hardly think it appropriate to act in such a manner,” Uncle Kingsley yelled. “Now where is my son? I sent the maid for him quite a while ago.”

  “Uncle Kingsley,” Violet snapped, “You have not been here for twenty minutes. You have spent the entirety of that time yelling and insulting my aunt in her own home. I hardly think you are in the position to cast aspersions on the behavior of Aunt Agatha’s guests when your own behavior is reprehensible.”

  “Reprehensible? Who do you think you are, gel? I am your elder.”

  “And,” Violet hissed, “On a normal day I would treat you with the respect your age deserves. However, I will not stand by and watch you insult my aunt and the behavior of her guests when you have no reference point for why they are behaving as they are.”

  “I will be speaking to your father,” he snarled, “And your aunt.”

  “Please do,” she replied calmly.

  The door of the breakfast room opened and both Victor and Algernon entered.

  “Where is Hargreaves?” shouted Uncle Kingsley.

  “There has been an accident, father,” Algie said. “Of course he’s seeing to the needy.”

  “The old fellow who fell down the stairs and then his son had a tantrum? I suppose someone has to deal with them. I was under the impression this was a full grown man we were dealing with. Is he damaged from the war?”