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

by Beth Byers

Lila nodded and Violet hurried through the halls of Kennington House. She hadn’t spend 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 ring on a few fingers. She frowned and stepped further forward.

  The slick backed hair was 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, 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 and then she rang the bell for a servant and 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 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 the Scotland Yard when she wasn’t even a denizen fo 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 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 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 send 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 can not 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’s 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 the 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.

  After that, Victor and Violet were left alone in silence. They sat on yet another chesterfield, side-by-side as they always did. Her head was on his shoulder, and she was trying very hard not to think of what she’d seen.

  “I didn’t realize what a gift it was not to see Aunt Agatha…”

  “Don’t think of it,” Victor told Vi, refilling her tea cup with the decanter of scotch. She shivered and nodded, laying her head back on his shoulder until he lifted her teacup to her mouth.

  “Do you suppose we’re suspects?” Violet asked a few minutes later. “Jack knows we hated Danvers and were trying to ruin the wedding.”

  “I doubt very much that you will be, love,” Victor said. “Drink your tea now.”

  Violet sat up and turned on him, “Tea?” she scoffed. “It was barely tea before you started refilling it.”

  Victor grinned without a smidgeon of repentance and said, “I suppose that party we were going to have isn’t quite the thing, now.”

  The tenor of the question struck Violet as ridiculous and she broke into giggles. She was still laughing several minutes later and wiping her eyes with Victor’s handkerchief when Jack and Mr. Barnes entered the parlor.

  “Is she weeping?”

  Violet giggled and said, “Hullo, there good sir!”

  “I suspect I pushed too much scotch into her,” Victor said staidly, glancing down at the giggling, shivering, and weeping Violet. “I take full responsibility.”

  “What happened?” Jack demanded as Violet sniffled and then giggled a little more.

  “I didn’t realize how enjoyable the burn of scotch could be,” Vi told Jack. “Do you like it?”

  Her voice was high-pitched and cheery even as she shivered again and wiped away a tear.

  Victor recapped the events while Violet tried and failed to get herself into control. Once Victor had done, Jack squatted down in front of Vi and said, “Are you all right?”

  “You have rather remarkable eyes, did you know?”

  Victor’s snort seemed to make Jack blush. Vi grinned in delight at the slight rosy tone to his cheeks. He wasn’t so large while he was before her like this. Well he was, but he didn’t make her feel quite so small when he wasn’t towering over her. She discovered that his effect on her had no change.

  “Don’t be shy,” Vi told him. “Not everyone has nice eyes, you know.” Her tone was very serious as she leaned in and whispered, “Lady Eleanor’s are rather faded and watery.”

  Jack’s lips twitched and he said, “I know where they live, Barnes. I think Victor better get Violet home. We can question them after Violet has a nap and perhaps another sandwich to sop up all the booze Victor poured into her.”

  Violet shivered again, a tear sneaking out of her eye, “It was awful.”

  “You see…” Victor said, looking helplessly at Violet as she shivered once again breaking into a new case of goose flesh. “I can’t…”

  Violet’s lower lip quivered and she said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just keep…I just keep seeing it. Vic didn’t let me see Aunt Aggie.” Violet was crying fully then and Jack cleared his throat. “I didn’t ‘like it at the time, but now…”

  “I see…” Jack said, clapping a hand on Victor’s shoulder.

  “I had to,” Victor said.

  “Had to what?” Vi asked glancing between the three of them who were all looking at her rather seriously.

  “It didn’t stop her crying though, did it?” Barnes shook his head and said, “We can’t protect them from everything.”

  Victor glanced back at Violet and swore, “But damned if I won’t try. Not sure she’ll let me take her home without Isolde though. I don’t suppose I can have her too? She can’t have done this.”

  “Not if the murder is as you say,” Jack said. “It would have to be someone larger than either Violet or Isolde.”

  “Couldn’t be Isolde,” Violet told them all. “Doubt she was alone since the moment she woke.” Violet suddenly yawned, placing a hand over her mouth, but the yawn shook her whole body. “Shouldn’t be happy. I’m not happy. But it’s better he’s gone. Better for Isolde. Solves a lot of the trouble for her. I keep seeing it.”

  “Don’t think of it,” Victor and Jack said in unison.

  Vi yawned again and shivered, not even noticing when another tear fell. Jack stood and pulled Violet up. “Get your other sister, Victor. Take them both to your house and don’t leave. We’ll be by.”

  Victor nodded and Violet found herself alone with Jack once again, being bundled into the back of the Silver Ghost.

  “Don’t leave me,” she begged. She dared to lay her head on his shoulder while he sat next to her. Not his shoulder. He was too large for that. This monstrous thing under her cheek was his arm. She reached her hand, still trembling, up to touch it and then yawned again. “You won’t go?”

  “Not until Victor is here.”

  Violet glanced out the window seeing Markus Kennington and his cousin watching from an upper window. She shivered yet again. But this time it wasn’t memories that were assaulting her. It was the realization that someone she knew had murdered that bounder, Danvers.

  Chapter 10

  Violet fell asleep in the automobile on the way back to their house, but her dreams were fraught with searching for the people she loved and never quite finding them.

  “I’m right here, luv,” Victor said soothingly one of the times she woke herself asking for him, but when she slipped back into sleep, he was gone again. Whatever would she do without him? She couldn’t imagine a future where he wasn’t a daily part of it. Even at college, they’d seen each other so often they might as well have been in the same houses.

  “Is she always this melancholy when she’s in her cups?” Isolde’s voice cut through Violet’s fitful sleeping, and she sat up for a moment before turning towards Victor and snuggling into his side.

  “It isn’t the scotch,” Victor said.

  “It was awful,” she murmured into his shoulder wishing she could slip deeply into sleep instead of waking and falling back asleep as she was doing.

  “I know darling. Don’t think of it.”

  “I can’t make it stop,” she whispered as the dream claimed her again.

  The motion of the automobile ceased. She woke when Victor pulled her from the car, and she found herself in his arms.

  “Do you remember that time I fell from the tree?” she asked in a sleep-thickened voice.

  “Carried you like this then too.”

  “Don’t go?” She asked. It was her dreams speaking, and she was asleep on his shoulder again before he could answer.

  When she woke later that evening, it was to Beatrice gently shaking her shoulder.

  “M’lady,” Beatrice said quietly. “M’lady. Dinner is to be served and Mr. Wakefield and Mr. Barnes are here to speak with the household.”

  Violet shoved off her eye mask and found she’d been bundled into her bed in her dress without her shoes, jewelry, or hairpiece. Someone had taken care to put her eye mask on to block out the sun, but it was long gone now.

  “What time is it?”

  “Near seven, m’lady.”

  Violet pushed back her hair and asked, “How long do I have?”

  “As long as you need, m’lady. They all said so.”

  Violet slowly stood. She didn’t feel so much sick to her stomach as sick to her heart. She took the aspirin that Beatrice had ready along with Giles’ concoction, hurried it all down, and decided to take them at their word.

  Beatrice drew a bath for her while she brushed her teeth. n A quick bath later, and Violet pulled on her most comfortable dress and an oversized sweater. She didn’t feel up to bothering with makeup except a little color on her lips. If this thing between her and Jack continued, he’d have to
discover she had a few freckles on her nose.

  They had gathered around the dining table once again. The cook had been informed they intended to bring a few friends home but not to put forth such a great effort. So they didn’t have more than the simple repast they would normally have requested.

  Violet crossed immediately to Isolde, who was a pale sort of green, and hugged her tight.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Are you?” Isolde’s bright blue eyes searched Vi’s face. She nodded and they hugged once again.

  Violet carefully pushed back one of Isolde’s loose curls. “I know this awful right now, luv, but I am still proud of you.”

  She turned to the rest of the room and found that the gentlemen had stood and were watching the interaction between the sisters.

  Jack was standing next to his friend and former commander, Mr. Barnes. They both had the sort of alert, hunting look that Violet imagined had been normal for them during the war.

  “There is food,” Victor said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps we might eat and discuss this as though it were a sort of intellectual problem.”

  “Rather than the murder of Isolde’s bounder betrothed?” Violet asked.

  Mr. Barnes said, “This is all very….inappropriate. We shouldn’t be consorting with…”

  “Suspects?” Isolde looked weepy, and Mr. Barnes didn’t answer her. She wasn’t, however, incorrect.

  “Do it anyway, old man,” Victor said with that edge of the lion, the earl’s son, in his tone. He was in full protective mode with both of his younger sisters present and upset. “I won’t have you dragging off my sisters to badger them with questions, not without me there.”

  “Victor…” Violet started but he shook his head.

  “Not today, Vi.”.

  “Violet and Isolde couldn’t have killed him. Given the amount of damage and the size of Danvers, they wouldn’t have been physically strong enough. It was but a single blow that ended him,” Jack said. “And Victor was seen during the likeliest window of when it could have occurred.”

  Mr. Barnes searched all their faces and then nodded once.

  “Cook made beef stew and Yorkshire pudding,” Victor said, interrupting smoothly, once more back to his usual calm. “Not very elegant I’m afraid, but it’ll warm our bones.”