by Beth Byers
“Did I…did I catch that right?” Victor asked, setting aside any attempt at manners in the face of Gertrude’s venom. “Is Meredith your nanny?”
“Well…it’s not like she’s paying her way is she?”
Victor blinked glanced at Violet and then turned back to Gertrude.
“Lives off our generosity, doesn’t she? We feed her and even clothe her. The least she can do is help maintain the burden of this household.”
“It was my impression,” Violet said smoothly, “that nannies are paid.”
Gertrude scowled at them and said, “One doesn’t pay family for helping out.”
Violet leaned back and looked at her brother who looked sort of helplessly at her. They both turned to Gertrude and simply stared.
“Did you expect me to give you tea?”
“Indeed not.” Victor rose and pulled Violet up after him. “Just wanted to say hello while we were in town. Hullo. We have a train to catch, don’t you know. Happy Christmas and all that.”
He didn’t even wait for Violet to reply. Just left.
“One doesn’t pay family for helping out,” Victor quoted to Violet as they stepped down the stairs.
“She’s an unpaid nanny, Vic,” Violet whispered. “For those demons.”
“I’m going to tell you the truth here,” Victor said. “I might murder someone to escape that fate. But I don’t think Meredith would.”
Violet didn’t answer that. She couldn’t really imagine any of them as murdering their aunt. That was the problem with this whole situation.
Did Meredith have a motive? Only if they all did. Violet did. That money. That cursed money.
“I want to go home,” Violet told Victor. “But we’ve never really had one, have we? Not with Eleanor at the homestead. Not with Agatha. It was never ours. The rooms…I suppose those are our home now.”
Victor cupped her cheek and leaned his forehead down to hers. “I can not promise you anything but this, sister of mine, you will never, ever be my unpaid nanny.”
Violet looked up at him, and his lips twitched a little. His eyes were as haunted as she felt, but he joked for her. She hugged him tight and said, “Twin, sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have you.”
“That goes both ways,” Victor said.
“Why are you hugging your sister?”
Violet and Victor turned and faced the little devils. She shouldn’t have done it. But after she was done, she didn’t mind. She leaned down, putting her face into the first twin’s and she whispered, “Do you know what happens to children who are mean to their aunts?”
He rolled his eyes at her as he scrunched up his nose.
“The shadow man comes for them.” Violet’s tone was all hoarse whisper. “He comes in the nighttime, when the candles go out, and the lights are off. He comes when the fire crackles, once, twice, and the wind blows from the east, and the child is lost forever to the darkness.”
Both boys’ eyes widened.
“The wind has been blowing from the east for the last few days hasn’t it, Victor?”
He winced, giving the boys a trepidatious glance. “It has. It has.”
“Do you want the shadow man to come for you?” Violet kept her voice low.
They shook their heads frantically. “Then you listen to your aunt. Women like Meredith know things. She’s faced down the shadow man and won. Only a few have ever seen the shadow man and lived. Only. A. Few.”
One of the boys shivered while the other clenched his fists. “Careful. I heard he got a kid a town over and he was moving this way.”
One of the boys gasped, rubbing a grubby paw over his face and leaving a streak of dirt behind before he grabbed his brother and raced inside.
“You, precious one, are evil.” Victor said lightly.
“Thank you,” Violet said.
They found their way to an inn and bought a country luncheon and visited another shop before they caught the last train back to their aunt’s home.
“I believe I overspent on Meredith,” Victor confessed. “I bought her a shawl. Somehow I doubt they light a fire in her room.”
“She’s the specter in the attic,” Violet said. “I bought her chocolates and perfume. I imagine she hasn’t had a luxury since she was pawned off on that sister of hers.”
“Poor kid,” Victor said. Violet didn’t disagree.
Chapter Eighteen
Violet watched the lawyer arrive with Victor standing behind her. Her bedroom overlooked the drive, and his car slowly putted up the drive before shuddering to a stop.
“I wonder if he’ll make it home with that beast,” Victor said. “Giles is good with a wrench for such a proper fellow. Do you think I should send him down and have him look the auto over?”
Violet shook her head and said, “Don’t you men get a little touchy about other blokes making assertions on your manhood or vehicle?”
Victor grinned at her and tugged a hair before he admitted, “I hope this ends it all. I hope whatever trap Agatha has set up for us brings out the killer and we get back to some skating and a yule log.”
“As do I,” Violet admitted. “I stopped by Aunt Agatha’s rooms this morning and last night, and she didn’t answer. Her maid said that she wanted time to think and write.”
Victor nodded and said, “I tried too. I wanted to talk to her about Meredith. About helping her out of there after this is all over.”
Violet hadn’t thought of that. She’d just wanted the touch of her mother—the closest thing she had to a mother—after seeing what a terrible family looked like. She turned back to her brother and said, “I never knew I should be so grateful for Gerald, Isolde, and Geoffrey. I miss Peter and Lionel more now.”
Victor nodded and a flash of pain crossed his face. “Do you remember when Peter made us those kites? He spent the whole day with us outside? He was so much older, I thought he hung the moon.”
Violet nodded and then said, “Do you remember how Lionel would send us novels after Eleanor said we couldn’t have them? He used his own allowance for us.”
“He was a good un. They both were.”
“It’s not fair that they’re gone,” she said. “That stupid war took so much from us.”
“It’s not fair that we have each other and had them while Meredith only has that shrew.”
Violet winced for Meredith again, feeling guilty that they hadn’t been better to her. “Should we go down to breakfast?”
“I suppose we have to despite Uncle Kingsley.”
“Do you really think he’s trying to kill Aunt Agatha?”
Victor hesitated and then said, “He’s got nothing left, Vi. He probably feels trapped. Many men have fallen on the sword, so to speak, once they got where he is. I’m sure he’s thought of it. Perhaps he decided to throw her on the sword instead.”
Violet flinched at that thought and then said, “Life is cruel.”
“Sometimes,” Victor agreed.
* * * * *
Victor loaded up a plate of kedgeree, beans, tomato, fried potatoes, and toast. Violet made a plate of fruit, tomatoes, and toast. She considered the tea before she decided upon coffee. When she sat down across from Meredith, Violet winced and then asked, “How did you sleep, cuz?”
The light-hearted banter was as forced as laughter during an execution. Victor winced for Violet and nodded at Jack who folded his paper and watched Violet.
“I didn’t sleep,” Meredith said, and she looked it. She had baggage under her eyes and dark circles as well. She moved almost as if she hurt. “Aunt Agatha is changing her will after years of leading us to believe we might inherit a little something. I’m not happy someone is trying to hurt her, but they’ve stolen from all of us now.”
Violet forced an image of Gertrude to the forefront of her mind before she said, “We don’t know how she’s going to change it, dear.”
Meredith’s mouth twisted as she said, “I just thought…I thought it would be different.”
Her pla
te was full and untouched. Only her teacup had been emptied.
“Would you like to go skating tomorrow? Hargreaves said the pond is frozen enough.”
Meredith didn’t even reply. She just rose and said, “Excuse me.”
The moment she was gone, Jack turned to Violet and asked, “What was that?”
“We saw where she lives yesterday,” Victor said. “Her sister is…there aren’t words. I write stories and make money at it, and there aren’t words for it.”
“You two need to stay out of this investigation,” Jack told them. “What did you go to Shelby for? To see Meredith’s motive or lack thereof for yourself? If she’s the killer, Victor, you’ve just put a target on your own back and your sister’s.”
Victor shoved some food in his mouth before he said, “I’ll miss Cook when we go home. But, like you, Vi—I ache for my own bed and the comfort of the familiar. I believe, however, I promised you Paris and then Italy. Possibly America.”
Jack precisely folded his paper, scowling at them for not even acknowledge his reprimand and then asked, “America?”
“Not America.” Violet felt the caress of Jack’s gaze on her, and suddenly she didn’t want to be gone quite so long. She simply…found something more intriguing in London. “But a few weeks in Italy with the sun and the sea does seem about right.”
“We’ll go to America next year,” Victor said oblivious to the tension between Jack and Violet. “Or perhaps Switzerland. I’d like to ski the Alps.”
Violet took another sip of her coffee and then popped a grape from the orangery into her mouth. It was divine. She made no promises about America of the Alps.
“The lawyer has arrived?” she asked Jack even though she knew the answer.
He nodded and said, “He’s working in the yellow room gathering his thoughts and waiting until she’s ready and then meeting with Agatha.”
Just as Jack finished his statement an unholy shriek filled the air.
“Oh god no,” Victor said.
Violet dropped her coffee. It clattered against the side of the table and crashed onto the floor, shattering and spraying herself and Victor with a rain of dark beverage.
Violet said nothing, but her head was shaking back and forth without stopping. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think. She didn’t need to think to know what the shriek heralded. Victor grabbed her hand and hauled her out of the breakfast room behind Jack who had already disappeared.
Aunt Agatha’s office door was open and Mrs. Daniels had collapsed in the doorway, blocking the entrance. Jack seemed to have leapt over the housekeeper while Hargreaves was patting Mrs. Daniels’ face.
Violet didn’t want to look. The expression of Hargreaves’ face told her all she needed to know. In the game of chess against a would-be-killer, they had lost.
“No!” Violet said. “No! I know there was a plan. I know that…damn it. The plan was supposed to have stopped this!”
Victor took her by the shoulders and turned her to him. She looked up at him and asked, “Is it too late? Is she gone?”
He didn’t speak, his jaw was bound too tightly in fury, but his nod gave her the answer she needed, killing the last of her hope.
“But there was a plan. Why would Agatha not have a plan? She thought out everything?”
“I don’t know,” Victor whispered. “I don’t know what happened.”
Their friends followed the sound of shouts and Violet looked up, meeting Lila’s gaze. She examined them as John Davies raced into the hall and then Meredith, Algernon, and finally Uncle Kingsley.
“What’s all this then?” Uncle Kingsley demanded.
“She’s gone,” Victor said and then swore.
Uncle Kingsley took a step back as though some unseen force had shoved him and he said, “But. Well. That can’t be right.”
Hargreaves got Mrs. Daniels to her feet. She was weeping almost frantically and Lila crossed to her, wrapping her arms around the woman who had worked for Agatha through all of Violet’s life.
“Come with me,” Lila whispered. “Come on now.”
“It can’t be right, I say,” Uncle Kingsley shouted.
“I assure you it is,” Jack said, shutting the door to Agatha’s office behind him. “Hargreaves…call the police. Tell them Chief Inspector Jack Wakefield is here and have them contact Scotland Yard. I’ll need whoever they have and the doctor as well.”
Hargreaves nodded and rushed into the library where the telephone was kept.
“The police! Chief Inspector! You here in sheep’s clothing, you—you—wolf!” Uncle Kingsley’s voice echoed through the huge house.
Violet had enough. She turned on her uncle and said, “He’s here because Aunt Agatha asked him to be.”
“Well we’ve lost her, haven’t we?” Meredith said, “He wasn’t very successful.”
“We lost her,” Violet shouted, “Because she refused to leave and be safe. Because she refused to take the coward’s way. Foolishness! We lost her because some greedy mongrel decided their desire for a new dress or fine house was worth murdering a woman who had loved us all of our lives. Unworthy fools that we are.”
“Who are you calling a greedy mongrel?” Uncle Kingsley demanded, ruddy fury rising high in his face. He’d have loomed over Violet if Victor didn’t have her tucked under his arm.
“You!” She shouted. “You! You wanted her money. You were demanding it yesterday. As if she owed you for your own idiocy.”
Uncle Kingsley’s infuriated splutter had Meredith stepping back rapidly while Algernon winced.
“You’ve done it now, cuz,” Algie said, almost apologetically.
“Enough!” Jack said. “Mr. Allyn remove yourself from this hall immediately.”
“Who do you think you are?”
“The man who will be finding your aunt’s murderer and seeing them to justice.”
Uncle Kingsley blustered for a moment and then he spun and strode from the hall.
Jack turned to survey the gazes that were fixed on him and then he said, “Mr. Coates, I will need to speak with you, but…”
Violet started and her manners came to the forefront. There in the shadows was a little man with round glasses and a brown suit. Aunt Agatha’s lawyer had arrived and seen the family battle. Violet wiped away a tear and tried to speak. Her first attempt came out as a croak and then she said, “Take the yellow room again,” Violet said, finding her control. “I’m…oh…” She didn’t even realize she was speaking through her tears until Jack handed her a handkerchief.
“Is she really gone?” John Davies asked. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
“Yes,” Jack snapped. “Yes. Damn it. Yes she is. We had someone watching the hall to see if anyone came in, but whoever it was went through the window. She’s almost cool. The demmed killer must have gotten to her almost as soon as she went into the office.”
“When we were all without an alibi in our bedrooms,” John snarled. “She came down before breakfast, didn’t she? Give us all our chance to kill her.”
Hargreaves returned and said, “Sir, I didn’t leave my post once. Not once.”
“You didn’t have to,” Jack said. “We didn’t think of the window. We should have. We assumed the killer wouldn’t know it was a trap.”
“But I did remember the window, sir. I checked the locks on it just last night. Those are sturdy locks. We replaced them only a year ago when a few of the larger houses were broken into.”
“Then the killer had planned this well enough to wait for you to check them, unlock it, and slide in while we were watching the wrong damn door.”
Violet stared at Hargreaves. How many times had she and Victor snuck down to the kitchens for biscuits and been caught by Hargreaves as he was fixing the locks. She was sure the rest of the cousins would know the same. Of course they would.
“That was your trick, wasn’t it? As children, you two would wait until Hargreaves checked the locks and then sneak out for your…escapades.” Meredith
insinuated. Her gaze was fixed on Violet as though she had been the one who would have killed Aunt Agatha.
“As children,” Victor said, the muscle in his jaw flexing.
“You were terrible children,” Meredith said, “You are, no doubt, terrible adults.”
“Enough,” Jack told Meredith. “You will go to the parlor or your bedroom until I need to speak with you. I will follow the evidence and we will find the killer with proof and deduction. Not with random accusations based off of behavior from a decade ago.”
Violet slowly turned to him and asked one more time, “She’s really gone?”
“She is,” Jack said gently.
He didn’t need to tell her to go to her room. She fled there, blindly, with tears rolling down her cheeks.
Chapter Nineteen
Perhaps if Uncle Kingsley had less motive, he’d have tried to pull out the power of classes. Jack Wakefield wouldn’t have succumbed as easily as any other detective. He was of their class. He might not have a father for an earl, but his father was connected to the landed families with a fortune behind him and membership in the right clubs—antiquated though they were.
That might be unfair to Scotland Yard detectives, however, maybe none of them would give way in the face of threats. Not in this day, and this age. But in another house, at another time, it would have gone that way. Especially with another investigator. It helped rather a lot that Jack Wakefield was a well-connected man who’d learn to investigate during the war and then chosen to join Scotland Yard later because of his skills rather than a need for money. Men like Uncle Kingsley, Algernon, and even Victor would have fallen back on their money rather than work.
Victor followed Violet to her bedroom and then entered after her.
“I’m not leaving you alone, luv,” he said when she told him to leave.
“I just need…”
“No,” he said firmly. “No. One of our cousins murdered Aunt Agatha or possibly Uncle Kingsley did. You are with me, Lila, or Denny until the killer is caught. Not even Gwennie. She’s too…passive.”
