The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Boxset 1

by Beth Byers

  There was a small church on the property. The wedding would be performed there with those who could be squeezed in. Afterward, there would be a wedding dinner and reception. They expected the festivities to go well into the evening.

  “Stop me from diving too far into my cups,” Violet begged.

  Victor said, “I thought that you should be the steward of my not getting sloppy drunk instead.”

  “Perhaps we should just have a little party at the house tomorrow with Lila and Denny and Gwennie and…” She cut off at Jack’s name before she softly added, “Jack, and allow ourselves the freedom to drown in those cups.”

  Victor squeezed her arm and they turned to face Harry Mathers. Violet could hardly believe that he was attending, let alone bringing his daughter. Did he realize the nature of her relationship with his business partner? Violet’s letter to him had referred only to the concerns Fredericks had about the investment scheme. Helen’s face was pale, her eyes shadowed, and Violet kissed both of her cheeks before she smiled charmingly and stated, “You look just lovely. That shade of pink brings out the creaminess of your skin.”

  “Oh.” Helen licked her trembling lips. “Thank you.”

  “Do let me introduce you to my friend, John Lexington,” Violet told her. “I think you’ll find he’s quite appealing. I’ll find him and introduce you at the party.”

  They exchanged pleasantries after the introductions.

  “You hate John Lexington,” Victor accused.

  “He’s boring, but a good man. Helen needs someone who would cherish her after that idiot Danvers.”

  The twins made their way through the crowd, and Violet kept her gaze peeled for their sister. She hadn’t yet made an appearance and must have decided to only appear at the end of the aisle. There was no question she’d look like an angel.

  “I…think I’ll just check on Isolde. Last words of love and all that,” Violet murmured. Victor grabbed her arm and shook his head as they rounded the corner of the house.

  They halted suddenly. Markus Kennington and Mr. Gulliver had Danvers cornered against the side of the house, and the furious whispering between them was so clearly enraged that Violet wasn’t quite sure what to do.

  “Victor?” She questioned quietly, then stumbled back when Markus Kennington shoved Danvers against the side of the house.

  Victor demanded, “What’s all this then?”

  “You should have let Markus have at Danvers,” Violet whispered. “Maybe if he gets the tar beat out of him, he won’t be able to marry Isolde.”

  “Too late, love. And not in front of you.” Victor stepped forward, telling Violet to stay, and was rounded on, not by Markus Kennington, but by Danvers.

  “Go, Violet,” Victor urged. Reluctant to leave her brother, still she hurried away. Once inside the house, she had to bully her way past the butler and had no doubt that he’d been set to turn her away. He tried politely, but she plowed right through, leaving him with the choice of bodily removing her or stepping aside.

  The stairs up to the room that had been set aside for the bride were deserted, and outside the door, a maid stood with a panicked expression on her face. She held a tray and Violet took it from her, ignoring the sounds of shouting that were coming from inside of the room.

  Warmed by the sound of an enraged stepmother, Violet did not knock; she simply swung the door open after shooing the maid away.

  Lady Eleanor spun with fire in her gaze, and when she saw Violet, she shrieked, “You! This is all your fault!”

  Violet calmly set the tray down and faced the weeping Isolde.

  “I cannot do it, Mama,” Isolde begged. “I cannot.”

  “You think I’ll allow you to throw away all I’ve crafted for you? All of my hard work? For what? An idiotic fairytale? Isolde, absolutely not.”

  Violet had to bite her lip to keep from standing up for Isolde. It was far past time that Isolde spoke for herself.

  “I won’t marry him,” Isolde said.

  “You will!”

  “You cannot make me say the words,” Isolde said flatly. “This isn’t medieval times, Mama. No, I won’t.”

  Lady Eleanor huffed. She was breathing so heavily, Violet thought her stepmother might faint.

  “Then what will you do? If you think your father and I will support you in this madness, in this…travesty, you are wrong!”

  “Vi said she’d pay for my school. I will go to school. Perhaps I shall work,” Isolde said. Her voice was quiet, but there was no give in it. Violet wanted to cheer.

  Lady Eleanor’s gaze narrowed and she turned to Violet. Before she could speak, Isolde turned her mother back to face her.

  “Enough, Mama. I told you I won’t do it, and I won’t. You can tell Papa or I shall, but this will not happen.”

  “If you think that I will make your bed for you, you are very wrong.” Lady Eleanor spun on Violet. “I hope you’re prepared to support your sister for the entirety of her life because you can be assured that your father and I will not.”

  Violet cleared her throat and said evenly, “I am assured that Father would do just that. However, Victor and I would welcome Isolde after she is done with school.”

  “And you! I have heard of your shenanigans.”

  “Excuse me?” Violet asked silkily.

  “You are still seeing a…a…detective. Do you think your father will allow that?”

  “After allowing Danvers? I think so.” Violet still hadn’t explained just who Jack Wakefield was or why he was so very eligible, and she did not intend on making those explanations.

  Violet rang the bell. “I’ll send for Papa, shall I? Try to put on a trifle more cheerful air, darling. I assure you that Father will support you going to school. He certainly did for me. It’s expected these days, you know. Only the most archaic of parents want to see their children married off before they’ve even caught their breath from the schoolroom.”

  The next moment, Lady Eleanor slammed the door on her way out, and Isolde burst into tears.

  “Hallelujah, my sister!” Violet said. “I am so proud!”

  Isolde tears turned to laughter. “I…”

  “Don’t worry, darling. You were living in a world of horror, avoiding specters that only exist in Lady Eleanor’s fantasy.”

  The maid arrived and was sent after the earl while Violet helped Isolde take off the wedding gear. Vi tossed Isolde’s dress on the bed and proceeded to pack her trunk. A thought occurred to her and she rang the bell again, sending another maid after Victor and a glass of scotch.

  “What have I done?” Isolde moaned while Violet packed Isolde’s trunks for her.

  “Just what you should have. I promise you, your mother will come around, and the rest of us have been waiting for this moment. How brave you are to end it before you marry the fellow and have to go through the scandal of divorce. I assure you, you would have.”

  Violet considered again and sent a third maid after Lila and Gwennie. Her sister needed cheering and Lila, combined with enough alcohol, would get Isolde happy. Victor would ensure the trunks made their way to the Silver Ghost, and Violet would write a letter to Jack. They’d sweep Isolde to…anywhere else. He would understand, wouldn’t he?

  Violet winced inside as she realized just how painful it would be to leave Jack. She might have been trying to keep her mind from leaping ahead, but she’d been failing. The idea of a relationship with him had burrowed into her heart.

  Before Violet was half-done packing for Isolde, there was a knock on her door and Gwennie and Lila swept in. Lila took in the sight of Isolde in a regular dress, weeping into her scotch while Violet packed her bags and said, “Praise be. What do we need?”

  “Victor is going to need help with these trunks if we want to escape before most everyone realizes what is afoot. Perhaps Denny?”

  “I left him smoking with John Davies.”

  “Lovely, John will surely be on our side. Gwennie, would you?”

  Gwen nodded and hurr
ied out the bedroom door while Lila knelt in front of Isolde and told her all the reasons she was making the right decision.

  Victor arrived next, saw what was happening in a glance, and said, “Brava, Isolde! Has anyone told Father yet?”

  Violet shook her head. She was fighting her need for precision with the need to move quickly.

  Lila understood when she caught Violet carefully folding a dress. “Darling,” Lila said, taking the dress from Violet. “You can afford a maid to press this dress now.” To Victor, Lila said, “I’ll help Vi and we’ll keep a hand on Isolde’s bravery. We need these bags to the car and the car capable of leaving quickly.”

  “I’ll get the car outside of the house,” Victor said. “I’m proud of you, Isolde.”

  “I should have done it sooner,” she said with tears. “Even last night would have been better. How did I get here?”

  “We’re all weak in the face of our elders,” Gwennie told her. “This will be an exciting tale when you’re at college.”

  “Better now, darling, than after,” Victor agreed, squeezing Isolde’s shoulder. “There is always worse timing. There is no question that Danvers is an out and out bounder. We have been trying to find proof since we realized who he was to pull apart his lies, but we simply didn’t have the time.”

  “Get to it, Victor,” Violet said, pushing him gently towards the door. “I don’t trust Lady Eleanor or Danvers enough to not feel as though this isn’t a race.”

  “On it, dear one,” he said.

  Chapter 8

  A good half hour had passed since Victor left, and still no Father. Violet finally pulled Lila to the door and said, “I will find Father myself. You get her to the car the moment Victor returns. I’ll meet you there.”

  Lila nodded and Violet hurried through the halls of Kennington House. She hadn’t spent months at a time here as Isolde had, but Vi had been there often enough to find the bedroom always assigned to her father.

  It was empty, so she considered for a moment and then hurried down to the library. It would be just like Papa to be having a cigar with Eleanor’s brother up until he absolutely had to appear. People were still arriving, but they’d be seated by ushers and he’d have to greet them after the wedding.

  The hall outside of the library was empty. Violet knocked on the library door and there was no answer. She almost left to pursue her father elsewhere, except…it was just so like him to be having a secret cigar. She pushed the door open and saw that the French doors to the back garden were open. It was possible to make out the shapes of those who were walking across the lawns towards the little church. Most of the guests would have to appear just for the after-wedding party given the size of the chapel, but she still saw Mr. Gulliver talking to Mr. Higgins and Mr. Mathers. They didn’t look very happy. It wasn’t their wedding though, was it? Why should they be all smiles?

  She stepped forward, intending to look for her father further through the French doors. Perhaps Father was hiding in the shadows or on the side of the house? It was a rather hot day for spring; the shade on the side of the house was appealing.

  Violet saw the hand first. It was flung so casually out, giant rings on a few fingers. She frowned and stepped further forward.

  The slick backed hair was the next thing she noted. It had been disturbed and flopped about in glued together hunks. It was so odd to see the effect of brilliantine in that manner.

  It was only then that she noticed the pool of blood. The horribly squashed skull. The terrible result of a candlestick on the groom. She whimpered just a little, turning to run.

  Only firming her will, Violet glanced back and examined the scene further. A candlestick flung to the floor near the corpse, the dead Danvers, a bit of a ruckus with scattered papers and an overturned chair, but not enough—perhaps—to draw the attention of the servants.

  Especially if the first, terrible blow stopped Danvers from crying out for help. She swallowed, regretted that choice immediately and knew that what she wanted more than anything was Jack, Victor, and her father. To her shock, she realized she wanted them in that order.

  Slowly, she turned the latch on the French doors, rang the bell for a servant, and then left the library, shutting the door behind her. She turned the lock as she did so to prevent anyone from entering. She wasn’t sure just what Jack or his peers at Scotland Yard would need to be preserved, but she was determined to do what she could.

  Her hands were shaking and she was barely choking back hysterics when the butler who’d attempted to head her off not so long before arrived. He scowled at her, and she swallowed on a dry throat.

  “I’m afraid there’s been a terrible accident.” Her voice was shaking, but she felt that by not shrieking down the house, she was showing more fortitude than many could have mustered.

  “An accident, miss?”

  “You need to call for Scotland Yard. Ask for Mr. Hamilton Barnes. Tell him there has been a murder.”

  “A murder.” The butler sounded disbelieving and Violet’s eyes flashed.

  The shaking in her hands stopped as her fury escalated. “A murder. Now. You may seek your master after you have made the necessary contact.”

  Violet could see that the butler wanted to object, and she was overstepping demanding Scotland Yard when she wasn’t even a denizen of the house, but she knew what she had seen.

  Violet held up her hand to stave off his objections. “Mr. Morton, I suggest you do as I command.” She was wearing the persona of an earl’s daughter. One she didn’t like to put on very often, but she could be far more imperious with the lift of her nose and the turn of her head than he was capable of handling.

  He opened his mouth to object, and she lifted a solitary brow and crossed her arms over her chest. He didn’t contain his objections, but he did as she demanded and rang up Scotland Yard.

  “May I get my master now?” The sarcasm was not lost on Violet, but what cared she for his objections? She nodded once and said, “Send for the earl as well.”

  The butler scurried away. Violet had no doubt that he was heading for Markus Kennington, Lady Eleanor’s eldest brother.

  And, hadn’t Violet just seen him arguing with Mr. Danvers? She had.

  “Vi? What are you doing here, darling? I thought we were to be off with Isolde before our escape plans are scuppered.”

  Violet gasped and hurried down the hall and threw herself into Victor’s arms. “He’s dead!” The safety of her brother was all she needed to feel her clawed together composure slip.

  “What’s this now?”

  “I was looking for Father and I…I…he’s dead.”

  “Father?” Victor gaped at her and she shook her head frantically.

  “No! Thank goodness! Danvers! He’s dead. Someone…quite….” Violet felt the horror of it all once again in the safety of Victor’s protection and pulled back. “Someone quite crushed his head.”

  Victor’s mouth was agape, but he tucked Violet close to him just as Markus Kennington and their father rushed into the hall.

  “What’s this madness?” Kennington demanded. “You sent for Scotland Yard? What the devil! There’s a wedding afoot.”

  “Not any longer,” Violet replied calmly.

  “What has happened, little one? Morton, you’re claiming there was a murder. It cannot be so, can it?”

  “There’s no question,” Violet told her father and shivered as the recollection assaulted her once again. “It is very clearly murder, and Danvers is very clearly dead.”

  Father nodded. “Dead is he?” The question was quizzical and he seemed no more concerned about the death of his future son-in-law as he would be over an old horse. “Your butler already called the yard, Kennington. Nothing to do but wait, I’m afraid.”

  “Did you send for Jack?” Victor whispered.

  Violet shook her head and murmured, “I told them to ask for Mr. Barnes.”

  “Clever girl,” Victor said. “Morton, some tea for my sister with a generous splash of
something stronger.”

  The butler’s face had become impassive in the view of his master, but he nodded once and said, “Of course, sir.”

  “Are we just going to believe her?” Kennington demanded.

  “Course we will,” Father said. “She’s hardly a ninny.”

  “She is a female.” Kennington scowled at Father, at Violet, and then back to Father.

  “She’s got eyes, hasn’t she? Vi ain’t no wilter. If she says the fella’s dead, he’s dead. If she says it’s murder, it’s murder. Don’t be daft in the head, Kennington.”

  Violet leaned heavily into Victor. The sheer idea of the crime being anything other than murder was bringing back what she’d seen. She shuddered again and Victor said, “Father, Vi needs…”

  “Course, course,” Father said. “The parlor here. It’s got to be open, ain’t it? With the wedding nonsense?”

  Kennington would have objected, but before he could, Father flung the door open and the waiting for Scotland Yard to arrive began.

  The drive from London to Kennington House wasn’t long. Once you got outside the city, it was a mere hour into the countryside. The journey out of the city could be fraught with frustration, but Barnes made good time and appeared by the time Victor had pushed Violet into drinking her scotch and tea and then pushed her into eating a sandwich. He kept refilling her teacup, and the burning in her nose and throat became a constant semi-enjoyable pain.

  Victor hadn’t allowed anyone to pressure her for details but drew them from her himself in a way that lessened the pain of the recollection. He didn’t leave her other than to whisper to Father about Isolde, who nodded and disappeared up the stairs to talk to the daughter who had abandoned her wedding plans before her groom had been killed.

  Victor then stood guard over her while others tried to dig. Kennington had disappeared to delay the guests from leaving, and Lady Eleanor appeared only to be unceremoniously refused entrance.