Kennington House Murder: A Violet Carlyle Cozy Historical Mystery (The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Book 2)

by Beth Byers

  And, for that matter, he wasn’t even offering anything other than another dinner and perhaps another dance.

  Vi quite wanted to shake herself. Perhaps it was Isolde’s fate of marrying so quickly that had Violet’s mind skipping ahead without using rational, logical steps.

  Violet sketched out her thoughts in her journal and came to the conclusion that as much as she liked Jack—and oh, she did—she could not possibly race ahead. Not when her future was so wrapped up in such a decision.

  Chapter 5

  The evening of the dinner party, Violet twirled in front of her brother in one of her new Parisian evening gowns. It was a dark teal green with a gold lace overlay. With wide straps and a rather higher neckline, it was near modesty while still having the Eastern opulence that Violet loved.

  She wore a long strand of pearls and a feather and pearl head piece with the lightest amounts of kohl and rouge, leaving her the bright young thing she was without attempting to push her stepmother too far.

  Victor frowned at her. “Dearest darling, nothing you wear will be sufficient for our garrulous stepmother, especially with Isolde present. I say slather on the rouge, thicken up that black stuff on your eyes, and wear the dress with the pink fringe.”

  Victor’s hair was slicked back and he wore a grey suit with a vest, a blue tie, and carried a cane with a dragon’s head at the tip.

  “You look dashing, Victor,” she told him, laughing merrily and then pointing out, “Certainly whoever our dear stepmother had invited for you will find you handsome indeed.”

  Violet joined him in the back of the Silver Ghost. Giles drove the automobile through the busy streets to the ancient Carlyle house, which was lit up with shadows in the windows.

  “Courage, dear one,” Victor said, speaking to them both.

  They’d considered time and again if Lady Eleanor would become more commanding or less now that they were settled financially, and they’d never been able to reach a conclusion.

  “It’s not like we don’t already know she favors her children.” Vi adjusted her dress and looked up at the house that had never felt as much like home as Aunt Agatha’s.

  Before they could knock, the butler, Thornton, opened the door. “Lady Violet.” There was a light in his eye that said he remembered when he’d helped them sneak biscuits from the kitchens. “Lord Victor. They are waiting for you in the blue salon.”

  Victor held out his arm, and Violet put her hand on his elbow and squeezed. Neither of then took much note of the oversized foyer or the staircase that curved up to an opulent landing with large paintings for each step. The painted ceilings and ancient crystal chandeliers overhead didn’t garner a blink. This had long since become old hat.

  Thornton opened the salon door and Lady Eleanor turned with a bright smile. There was a crowd of gentlemen and ladies present who were more Lady Eleanor’s age than Violet would have guessed for a dinner party for her younger half-sister.

  She recognized her stepmother’s brother and cousin right away, both of whom nodded to the twins. Markus Kennington was the brother of Lady Eleanor while Norman was the cousin. Violet smiled at both of them without quite allowing them to draw her into their conversations. Victor hummed under his breath and the veneer of the light-hearted spaniel dropped over him without a flicker of a lash.

  “Wonderful.” Lady Eleanor presented her cheek for a kiss. “We’ve missed you both. You’re the last to arrive, so we can enjoy drinks.”

  Violet’s answering smile didn’t reach her eyes, but Lady Eleanor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Of course, Lady Eleanor’s face and tone didn’t reflect the irritation Violet was sure her stepmother felt. How dare they be the last of the guests to appear?

  “Don’t you look lovely,” Lady Eleanor said to Violet and then turned to Isolde.

  Violet took in the sight of her sister. She still looked alarmingly young. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon and her dress was a charming light pink with layers of fringe. It formed to her body, as Isolde had more curves than was quite the thing. Violet’s slender frame was more in fashion—a lucky happenstance for she did not watch what she ate.

  Standing next to her was a man who made Isolde seem more than young—a mere babe. This fellow was nothing more than a cradle snatcher. He niggled at Violet’s mind and then she realized that this was the man Violet had seen kissing a woman in the nightclub. A woman who was not her sister.

  She was quite sure he recognized her as well. Violet fiddled with the ring on her finger and then turned to grin at Thornton as he passed around a tray of drinks, happy for the distraction. She made a surprised face as Thornton showed her the two options.

  “Thornton, man of the hour.” She grinned at him. “What are these delights?”

  “Lady Isolde wanted unusual drinks this evening, but there is another tray of gin and tonic going about if you’d prefer, m’lady.”

  Violet tossed him a saucy wink and said, “Oh, I want something exciting and new. How clever of Isolde to have you sleuth out new drinks.”

  “Well then, m’lady, the slightly yellow drink is called the bee’s knees.”

  “What a fun name. And the pretty reddish one?”

  “That is the aviation fizz.”

  “Frivolous and delightful.” Violet took the reddish one and turned back to Victor. “You try the other and we’ll switch.”

  Lady Eleanor’s face had frozen with poorly disguised irritation as Violet chose her drink. Vi looked over and saw her father with a scotch in his hand. She winked at him across the room and he started towards them with their eldest brother, Gerald, in tow.

  Lady Eleanor turned to Isolde as Violet’s smile transformed from blank to forced. “Darling, you should consider a bob like Violet’s. It sets of the line of her neck and jaw so well. You both have those lovely fox lines in your features. That comes from the Carlyle line. Though you get your coloring from me and Violet gets hers from her mother. Equally lovely, really. Like different sides of the same coin.”

  Vi blinked rapidly and glanced at Victor, whose mouth was twitching. They each lifted their drinks and sipped to avoid needing to answer.

  “May I present Mr. Danvers,” Isolde asked, smiling prettily. “My betrothed.”

  Victor’s spaniel demeanor was in full-force as he choked back the protective elder brother.

  “Oh that’s sweet,” Victor murmured as he lowered his drink. He stepped in with greetings while Violet recovered herself.

  Mr. Danvers was 5o-years-old if he was a day. He was beyond rotund to full fat, and he had a mean twist to his mouth. There were large rings on three of his fingers and his slicked back hair smelled. And, of course, Violet had seen him kissing another woman just the evening before.

  Isolde’s smile was serene though she was careful to adjust her hand, so Violet could see the large diamond on her finger.

  “What a lovely ring,” Violet said, pasting a vacuous expression on her face. She took another sip of her drink.

  “Darling girl,” her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing before he shook Victor’s hand. “How was the coast?”

  Violet chattered about the art while Victor made passing comments about some fellow he’d met who was a friend of their father.

  Isolde cut in before long, looking a little aggrieved. Had they been leaving her out? Violet hadn’t congratulated her sister but that level of lie was quite beyond Vi at the moment. Instead she commented on Isolde’s dress.

  Vi’s acting ability was pressed to its limit and past. Not only had her stepmother not attacked either of the twins with their deficits—a previously favorite past time—Isolde had been encouraged to be more like Violet. That had never happened in the entirety of Isolde’s life.

  Violet sidestepped Victor and Danvers before dinner to speak with her father and found him smiling down at her.

  “Haven’t much liked how you flit about with Victor since you and Vic graduated from college, darling. N
ow I’d like to see Isolde do a bit of the same. Bit young, isn’t she, to be getting wed?”

  “Indeed, Father,” Violet said, tucking her hand into his elbow and squeezing his arm a little.

  He sipped his scotch. “Tried to put a bit of a slow down on it, if I’m being honest. Not sure what to think of this Danvers. Too old and fat for Isolde, but she just chatters to me about clothes. Not like you at all.”

  Violet nibbled the corner of her mouth before speaking. “Well of course she isn’t, Father. We were always quite different.”

  He simply tutted and took another drink of his scotch. “Girls these days. So busy dancing and drinking and buying shoes that they’ve forgotten their old fathers.”

  Violet smiled up at him and said, “Have I forgotten you then, Papa? I remembered you when Victor and I were finding you some Campari, sweet vermouth, and limoncello.”

  “You think I don’t know Victor was hunting those up for himself? As though all I do is drink.”

  Violet kissed her father’s cheek. “We still thought of you when we bought some for you, Papa. What shall we do about Isolde?”

  “I don’t think there’s much left to do, little one.” Father sighed and then took another drink from his scotch. A moment later, Thornton announced dinner, and they were separated and led into dinner with as much ceremony as Lady Eleanor was able to drum up.

  Violet was brought into dinner by a fellow named Hugo Danvers. He had to be near their brother Gerald’s age, who was a good ten years older than the twins and even older than Isolde. Poor Danvers would be Isolde’s future son-in-law and seemed too aware of the ridiculousness of it. Violet’s lips twitched at that and she met Victor’s gaze, directing his gaze to Hugo with a glance and then back to the others.

  Lady Eleanor had included twelve couples. The ones Violet didn’t know were two of Mr. Danvers’ good friends. Both were married with spoiled looking wives. They all seemed to be rather too interested in Violet’s inheritance.

  One of them, a Mr. Jenkins, tried to draw out details over the fish, but Violet sidestepped. His wife tried again over the salad. The friend, Mr. Gulliver, tried during the fruit and cheese. By the time, she escaped the table, she felt as pursued as a fox during hunting season.

  Violet could hardly believe they even dared to approach her about it. She knew Aunt Agatha’s fortune was gossiped over, but it wasn’t the thing to demand those details.

  After dinner, she was cornered by them and Danvers. Violet swallowed back her rising irritation and pasted a smile on her face.

  Mr. Gulliver asked again, “Now you inherited when your aunt, Mrs. Agatha Davies, died?”

  Violet nodded. “Myself and several cousins.”

  “But you received the bulk of it?”

  Violet frowned. “We were all quite fortunate.”

  Mr. Danvers cut in with a quelling look at his friend “Talked to your man of business recently,” he told her.

  “Did you?” Violet smiled prettily, and her brother coughed into his drink.

  “Nincompoop,” Danvers snarled. “Mine is a much better choice.”

  Victor’s cough became choked as Violet fluttered her lashes up at Danvers and said, “I’m afraid I have no head for business.”

  “Women don’t,” Mr. Danvers said firmly. “I’ll take over for you.”

  “However,” she said, smiling, “Mr. Hamilton Fredericks is one of the most respected businessmen in the whole of London as evidenced both by his wisdom in working for a woman, my aunt, and learning from her.”

  “Foolishness.”

  “And of course,” Violet cut in brightly, “she took a respectable amount of money and made it something that Midas himself would envy, so perhaps your theory on the capacity of women is ill-formed, old-fashioned, and misogynistic.”

  Victor choked again and then hastily drained his glass to cover his laughter.

  “Now, my dear,” Mr. Danvers slid in. “A mannish woman like your aunt is unique. You can’t expect the same successes she had.”

  “I have no need of those successes. I have quite the fortune without the need to further it with risky, unwise ventures. I will continue to follow the advice of my well-learned and respectable man of business with enough understanding in my vacant, female head to recognize the best course of action is to separate family and business.” Violet smirked up at Victor. “I believe I’ll try that bee’s knees, brother. You didn’t share yours with me at all.”

  She let go of his arm and stepped away, entirely unsuccessful in hiding her fury. She took a drink from Thornton and made her way to the window to glance out. A moment later, she found Danvers had cornered her.

  “I saw you with that…Chief Inspector.”

  “I saw you with the harlot,” Violet said.

  “Don’t think I won’t tell your mother.”

  “Don’t think I won’t tell Isolde.”

  “Isolde isn’t so foolish as yourself and knows the way of the world.”

  Violet hoped very much that wasn’t true.

  Danvers took hold of Violet’s arm and hissed, “You better watch what you say to me, my dear. You don’t want me for an enemy.”

  “I don’t want you for anything,” Violet told him. “I find you alarming and disgusting and despite the way you tried to lie and manipulate you way to my finances.”

  Danvers squeezed tighter on her bicep and the sting was shocking, but Violet didn’t let it cross her face.

  Without acknowledging his vice grip, she added, “I also found you appalling when I saw your display with that female.”

  She twisted her arm away, and then she leaned in and said, “I find that I am horrified for my sister. But alarmed for myself? Please.”

  “Your Father…”

  “Does not like you.”

  “Your brother…”

  “Victor?”

  Danvers nodded sharply. “He’ll listen to a man of the world and step in like needs to be done.”

  Violet laughed and stepped away.

  He said as she left him, “You don't want me for an enemy, foolish girl.”

  Chapter 6

  Violet woke to a slight tapping on her door and a, “Lady Violet…”

  She groaned and rolled onto her side.

  “Lady Violet….Lady Eleanor is awaiting you in the parlor.”

  Violet groaned into her pillow. “Why?”

  “I…” Beatrice’s stutter had Violet pushing herself up and shoving off her eye mask.

  “Coffee,” Violet said. “Aspirin. Victor. Tell my stepmother to get comfortable.”

  Beatrice returned while Violet was washing her face and running a comb through her hair. She dabbed a little rouge on her cheeks and lips, blinking blearily at the maid.

  “It wasn’t a horrible dream? My stepmother really has arrived?”

  “She has, m’lady.”

  Violet scowled at the girl, noting the tray with an ominous looking glass that smelled terrible and spicy. She turned to the girl and asked, “What’s this then?”

  “Mr. Giles sent it to you, m’lady.”

  Violet lifted the glass, took the aspirin from the small porcelain dish, and then plugged her nose and swallowed it all. When she was done, she shivered then dropped her robe.

  “Hand me a dress,” Violet demanded.

  “Any dress?”

  “Any dress,” Violet replied. She grabbed a pair of stockings while Beatrice picked out a dress, shoes, and jewelry. Violet put the things on almost blindly, not really noting what she was wearing until she stood and glanced into the paneled mirror. She found a lacy light pink dress with a tie above the décolletage made out of the same material as the dress.

  Violet picked up a piece of toast that had been brought up on the tray, took a long breath in, and then nibbled.

  “I suppose I should hurry down,” she said, taking a seat and pouring herself a cup of coffee. She added creamer, sugar and then hurried through the toast and coffee. Just before she was finished, Victor kn
ocked on her door.

  “Are you ready?”

  Violet shot him a look. “The aspirin and whatever that…concoction Giles manifests have not yet started to assist my poor head.”

  “If we linger too long, we’ll—”

  “Hear about it long enough that we’ll need another aspirin.”

  Victor pulled Violet unceremoniously to her feet, taking her last piece of toast. “At least you ate, love. I fought fate too long for even coffee. Though I’ll have Beatrice bring in tea and biscuits. Maybe if we focus on those, the raking over the coals won’t be so bad.”

  He held out his arm, and they made their way down the stairs. “It seems accurate,” Violet told him, “that the maiden voyage of your parlor will be with Lady Eleanor. To be honest, I haven’t even stuck my nose in yet.”

  “Nor have I. We’ve been busy, love.”

  Violet sniffed. “I’m ready for a long lie-in and a day without appointments or shopping.”

  “I’m not sure that our stepmother will let you have that. She’ll try to drag you along to whatever she’s doing for Isolde to ensure you are aware just what you are missing in refusing to put on a ball and chain.”

  Violet opened the parlor door and paused when her stepmother turned a furious gaze to her.

  “There you are!”

  “Were we expecting you?” Violet asked smoothly, crossing to the Chesterfield and taking a seat as Victor joined her.

  “I didn’t expect you to be layabouts!”

  “I don’t know why not,” Violet said, pressing a finger to her temple and trying to hide a wince. “Unemployed and spoiled added to a late evening with you.”

  “You drink too much. I won’t have you two becoming nothing but drunken layabouts.”

  Violet sighed in relief as Beatrice entered the parlor with the tea trolley and poured them all a cup. She handed her stepmother her tea with lemon and added far too much milk and sugar to hers, necessities at a time like this.