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

by Beth Byers

  “I understand,” Lady Eleanor said coolly, “that you were quite rude to Mr. Danvers.”

  Violet sipped her tea slowly, refusing to answer until she thought her reply through. Carefully she set the cup back on the saucer. “I dislike him greatly. However, my behavior was…appropriate considering his.”

  “This is a very good match for your sister, and I won’t have you ruining it.”

  “I would give my fortune away to ruin it. That man is a cad and a fraud.”

  Violet took a biscuit and patted Victor on the back who’d choked at her reply. Lady Eleanor’s gaze narrowed on Violet.

  “I did not ask for your opinion. Isolde wasn’t so blessed as you just were. Though why I don’t know.”

  “Agatha wasn’t related to Isolde?”

  Lady Eleanor’s mouth tightened. “You will not ruin this marriage.”

  “I will endeavor to do my very best for just that end.”

  “Stepmother, Vi…” Victor said consolingly, “what…”

  “Enough out of you Victor,” Lady Eleanor shot out. “You are the reason Vi thinks she can do whatever she wishes. Your support gives her the freedom she’d never otherwise have. Flitting about like a…a…hussy! And with a Scotland Yard man! How could you Violet?”

  Violet leaned back, crossing her ankles and took another sip of her tea.

  “Jack?” Vi finally asked.

  “Jack!” Lady Eleanor hissed as though the name were a byword.

  “Jack Wake…” Victor started to explain, and Violet placed a hand on her brother.

  His explanation cutoff and Violet said, “Who I choose to spend my time with will never be influenced by you, Lady Eleanor. You have sold Isolde to an old, fat fraud who leave her miserable, and you know it.”

  Lady Eleanor placed a hand on her chest and hissed, “Fraud? You have no ground for such a declaration and money does a lot to bring about happiness, you ungrateful shrew.”

  Violet slowly put down her teacup and asked, “And if he isn’t rich?”

  “Of course he is! My brother and my cousin have invested a large portion of their funds with him and are seeing good returns. Mr. Danvers is a man of financial brilliance.”

  “Returns? Or promises of good returns? They are very different things, you know.”

  “What do you know of it? You aren’t Agatha Davies. You are a headstrong, arrogant girl who…”

  “That is quite enough,” Victor said. “Lady Eleanor, Violet has good cause for her concerns about Danvers. I think we can all see, however, your opinion is fixed. I won’t have my house sent into chaos so you can expel your differing notions at each other.”

  Victor rose and handed Lady Eleanor to her feet. “Always lovely to see you, stepmother. Hopefully next time we’ll all be in better spirits.”

  He walked her to the door and saw her out as Violet gaped.

  The second he returned to the parlor, Vi couldn’t hold back her tirade about the terrible match.

  “She is so pleased with herself! They…they…they act as though Isolde weren’t rich, beautiful, and well-connected. She can’t possibly love that Danvers fellow. Where is her spine? Where are her dreams? What is wrong with her? By jove, Victor!”

  “I know, darling,” he said, sounding as sick as Violet.

  “We must do something.”

  “There’s nothing to be done, darling. I’ve been desperate to come up with a plan. There’s nothing. If we intrude and infuriate Isolde, we leave her with only her…mother.” He said the word as though it were a terrible insult.

  “You don’t even know the half of it, Vic,” Violet moaned. “I…I…saw a man snogging in the club where Jack took me dancing. I was appalled, of course, but I didn’t think anything of it. It was Danvers!”

  “With Isolde?” Victor asked, horrified. “Necking in a club!”

  “No! That’s the worst of it. Oh, Victor…it wasn’t even her. He isn’t being true to her, he’s horrible, Fredericks doesn’t even think he’s as rich as he says…and Lady Eleanor will never believe me.”

  “It’s criminal!” Victor stood suddenly, starting a route around the parlor with his pacing, and Violet found she was following the opposite path. Worry for Isolde rolled over her skin like a thousand ants.

  “You know Lady Eleanor as well as I do,” Violet moaned. “Her math always adjusts towards her darling son. Marry off Isolde well and she won’t need the inheritance. Get us out of the way, and surely Father will leave Geoffrey the money that was once intended for us. I never imagined that would extend to Isolde, but I suppose I was foolish.”

  Victor grunted, dropped into his seat, and downed his tea.

  “What if you said something to Father?” She spun towards her brother, tone desperate even though she knew the answer already. Father had tried to stop this. He hadn’t known everything, but would he believe them over Lady Eleanor’s family? The elder generation? Violet didn’t think he would.

  Victor shook his head.

  “What about Gerald? He isn’t one to be uncaring.”

  Victor sighed. “Darling, I’ll track him down. But I suppose we must accustom ourselves to being connected to Danvers.”

  “Never,” Violet swore, hoping for a miracle. “Never. We must come up with a plan, we must…we must…rally round. We must call on the troops. We must find out if Danvers really does have a house of cards in various investments and is a fraud.”

  * * * * *

  They’d called for their friends to arrive at luncheon and brainstorm and when Violet entered the parlor just before the appointed hour, she’d found that their company had arrived. Lila had already helped herself to making a round of mint juleps as Violet had intended to do before her friends showed up.

  “Hullo! Hullo! How’s kicks, sweet things?” The doorbell rang as Violet spoke, and she slowly turned to face the door with a frown on her face. If it was Lady Eleanor again, Vi was going to hide.

  A moment later, Hargreaves said, “Mr. Jack Wakefield has arrived, m’lady.”

  Her brows rose and she glanced behind her. They all knew him anyway and surely a military man would be capable of helping them design a campaign?

  “Show him in,” she said.

  Hargreaves nodded and Jack appeared in the doorway a moment later. He glanced around and saw the gathering. “Oh. Ah….”

  Violet took a drink from Lila and handed it to Jack. “You’re just in time for whatever Cook has whipped up, if you’d like to stay. Though I fear you’ll be conscripted for our machinations.”

  His lips twitched and he nodded, handing Hargreaves his coat. He didn’t make apologies for showing up and Violet appreciated it. He accepted that she hadn’t turned him away and left the awkwardness behind.

  “Only home a day and already called to rally round, dear one?” Lila handed Violet a glass with a wink, “I believe we better return to the sea.” I suppose some present might object.”

  “I object, darling,” Denny said dryly. “You were gone far too long. None of my pants fit any longer. I cannot survive another season without you and neither can my wardrobe.”

  Lila made a kissing face towards her husband. “One would think you were a full grown man capable of caring for oneself.”

  “One would be wrong,” Denny replied as Violet tucked her hand through Jack’s arm and pulled him further into the room. Denny grabbed Lila’s hand and pulled her down next to him. “I shall hold you to my side whatever it takes.”

  “Tell us what’s wrong,” Gwennie said, looking towards Violet, who had invited Jack to sit with her.

  “You look smashing, love,” Violet told her friend, who had certainly recovered from traveling and gone back to peaches and cream skin, bright eyes, and a steady smirk. Violet glanced around for Victor. “Surely my lazy brother will appear in a moment or two. But we can begin without him.” Violet sat on the edge of the Chesterfield. “You must all swear yourselves to carry this horrid tale to your graves. Whether the plan goes aright or horribly wrong.�
��

  A chorus of promises filled the air. Violet told the tale of Isolde, her fiancé, and what Violet had seen and heard of the man. While she spoke, describing Danvers horridness and Isolde’s naivety, she could feel Jack’s attention on her. It warmed her, and she prayed she wasn’t blushing too terribly. Victor appeared during the middle of the tale and let Violet finish.

  “How horribly Victorian,” Lila said, glancing at the others before she drained her glass. “I’ve never met this sister of yours, darling, but she sounds a bit dim.”

  “She’s not dim,” Gwennie said to Violet’s surprise. “She’s young. I’d have succumbed to the right fairytale at the same age, especially with my aunt’s pressure, if not for my elder sister who took me aside and told me to buck up and stand firm.”

  “You’re all young,” Jack said swirling his drink in his glass, “but this is not a fate for your little sister.”

  “Tell us, Methuselah,” Victor countered as he handed Jack another drink. “What shall we do?”

  “Come now,” Denny interrupted, tapping off his cigarette. “Vi has a plan. Haven’t you, darling?”

  Violet shrugged and outlined her thoughts, glancing at Jack when she said they’d need the name of Danvers’ mistress. Jack paused, thinking the request over, and then said, “Yes, I should be able to find that out.”

  “What else do we do?” Victor asked.

  “Our time is so limited,” Violet said, feeling the worry of it. The wedding was a mere week away. They should have hurried home after they’d gotten their letter. Both Victor and Violet had assumed that Isolde had succumbed to the love making of some young fellow like herself. Too young to be wed perhaps, but a story like Denny and Lila’s could be happy.

  “Our best chance is to convince her, only we haven’t been close. Why would she let us sway her against her own mother? If we can pick Danvers apart…that might be the surest course. We’ve already set our man of business to investigating his financials. I have no doubt that his instincts are right. I’m just concerned there isn’t time enough.”

  “Then what shall you do?” Lila asked gently.

  “I don’t know,” Violet admitted. “I don’t want to face Isolde a decade from now and admit I knew her life would be terrible. It’s never the cads like Danvers who die young. They linger on, tormenting those saddled with their connection.”

  A luncheon of vichyssoise, fish, and small chocolate cakes followed It was served as they debated other options, but none of them were quite sure what to do.

  “This isn’t a problem for our era,” Gwennie declared. “That’s the issue here. We never expected to face this kind of thing. It was a problem for our grandmothers with their uptight mothers who cared more for money and being settled than they did for happiness.”

  “Too true, love,” Lila said with a sigh. If anything, Lila’s family objected for her wishing to marry so young to poor Denny. His good connections and prospects hadn’t been enough to sway her mother’s worries, and Lila had been forced to throw epic tantrums to get her way. Her parents’ concerns had been that she was too young. It was because of those objections that Lila and Denny had waited until after college to wed.

  Vi’s two female friends swore to drop casual asides to Isolde, making her aware of what Danvers was like, while Jack promised to see if there was anything to be found about Danvers that might scuttle the marriage before it took off.

  * * * * *

  After the others had left, Jack invited Violet to the Criterion and a play for later that week. She accepted with the blush she’d been fighting off all afternoon. “I’ll stop by or call if I find anything about Danvers,” he said to both Victor and Violet.

  Victor stepped away, and Jack’s gaze flicked over Violet.

  “You can only do what you can, Violet. You might not be able to save your sister if she doesn’t’ wish it.”

  Violet nodded and let Jack take her hand. He turned her palm over and seemed fascinated by the size of her small white hand against his larger tanned one.

  “What happened to your arm?”

  The question was so out of the blue that Violet didn’t know to what he referred. Jack gently touched her bicep and she glanced at it, noting for the first time the finger-shaped bruises on her skin.

  “Ahhh.” She looked back to Jack and saw the fire in his gaze. Carefully, she licked her lips.

  “Victor?”

  She laughed. “Never. I doubt he’s noticed yet, or he’d be next to you demanding answers.”

  “Who?”

  “I think…”

  “Please?”

  The question was so gentle, Violet couldn’t deny answer.

  “Danvers and I had a rather heated exchange.”

  Jack nodded, jaw flexing. “I’ll be back tomorrow with what I’m able to discover.”

  Violet nodded. He made his goodbyes and left. The moment the door closed after him, Victor returned.

  “I like him,” Victor declared.

  “It’s moving too fast in my mind,” Violet said. “A house party, one casual meeting on a train, and one evening out does not add up to all the places my mind is going.”

  Victor wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Oh darling one, trust me. You’ve got him well-trapped in your web.”

  “I don’t wish to trap anyone,” she said, elbowing him a little.

  “It’s the only way to catch someone these days, darling. Marriage is for old fashioned types. If you want to follow the well-trodden path of our ancestors, then you need to lasso your man, or is it hogtie? Is that what those American cowboys do?”

  Violet scowled at him and elbowed him once again. “Whatever that is, it sounds quite distasteful. Do not forget, brother of mine, that I am a….what did you call me? A pearl of great price? One such as me does not hogtie a man. We simply flutter our lashes and beckon with our gaze.”

  Victor’s laugh warmed her. “Darling, I was referring to your new, bulging pocketbook, not your intrinsic value.”

  Violet elbowed her brother a third time before returning to her bedroom and her stolen typewriter. Her story of the ingénue took a sour turn, and Violet knew that it would be a darker tale than she usually wrote. The outcome for the little woman who looked remarkably like their sister, Isolde, was fraught with danger and looked very poor indeed.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning Violet rang up her sister and invited her on a spur of the moment shopping trip. She made a last-minute appointment at the new fashion salon owned by the squire’s daughter she’d learned about just before she had left London the last time.

  Before long, Violet was gathering up her sister. Isolde gasped when she saw Violet had driven herself.

  “You drive?”

  “Of course,” Violet said. “Victor doesn’t let me get away with womanly wiles when he wants to sleep the drive away. I learned quite some time ago, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh my.” Isolde’s bright eyes fixed on the car and she mused, “Perhaps I shall learn to drive.”

  “You should, darling. There’s a wonderful freedom in it.”

  They made their way to the fashion salon and found gowns to stop a clothes monger in her tracks.

  “It must be lovely,” Isolde said, “to shop without Mother making your choices.”

  “Dear,” Violet said gently, “you can do the same.”

  “Well, it’s important to select the right look to marry Mr. Danvers. He needs a sophisticated woman.”

  Violet had to hold back a tirade before she brightly asked, “Sweet sister, you are the catch here. He is the lucky one.”

  “Oh no,” Isolde said, shaking her head. “No. Not me.”

  “Of course you. You’re beautiful. You’re rich. Your father is an earl. Mr. Danvers is none of those things.”

  “I’m not nearly as lovely as you,” Isolde said without even an ounce of irony.

  “Yes, darling, you are. Of course you are.”

  “And I’m not clever like you,” Isold
e said. She said it with such utter surety that Violet wanted to scream. Just how many times had Lady Eleanor praised Violet to Isolde’s detriment?

  “Darling, darling, you just left school. You haven’t had a chance to study your own interests or discover your passions. It is far too soon to make such judgments.”

  Isolde smiled at Violet as though she were blind to the obvious and only being kind.

  “Why don’t you give yourself some more time before you make such big decisions? Push back the wedding date. Travel some with Victor and me. We’d love to take you somewhere exciting and new.”

  Isolde tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you discover upon cutting your hair that it was so much less weight?”

  Violet stared at her sister, who avoided Vi’s gaze. “Are you sure you don’t wish to push back the date?”

  Isolde tucked a lock of hair behind her ear on the opposite side. “It’s so much less weight, isn’t it? After shearing one’s head.”

  “Yes,” Violet said. “It’s wonderful to cut off your hair. Perhaps college? I would be happy to pay for you like my aunt paid for me. You don’t have to jump into this wedding.”

  Isolde smiled at Violet, such a sad little expression for what should be a happy movement and then said, “Isn’t that dress just lovely?”

  Violet blinked rapidly. “I missed your birthday. Let’s try it on you and get it for you. Or something else if we find something that flatters you better.”

  Isolde nodded in gratitude, but it wasn’t for the dress, it was for Violet dropping the subject. They both tried on a series of dresses and both left the shop laden with bags. As they approached the automobile and arranged their bags inside, Violet waited until Isolde was in the vehicle before she shut the door and then turned to her.

  Vi had her sister trapped and needed to try one more time. “You are very young.”

  “Violet…” Isolde’s attention was fixed outside the window, but Violet could see the tension through Isolde’s slender frame.

  “You cannot possibly love Danvers.”

  “I will come to love him,” Isolde said, almost desperately. “He is a good man.”