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

by Beth Byers

  The dinner was served with ginger beer. Violet grinned at her glass as she accepted it from Hargreaves, well aware that the drink had been selected because Victor saw the pain behind her eyes. Giles and Hargreaves worked together to serve the dinner and Mr. Barnes kept a notepad next to his plate, making notes as they discussed the history of one Mr. Carlton Danvers.

  “How did you meet him?” Violet asked Isolde.

  “Mama, of course.” Isolde paused and then explained, “Uncle Kennington and Mama were rather good friends with him before I was ever introduced. Before I was even out of the schoolroom, Mama talked to me about being secure and Mr. Danvers name came up again and again. How he wasn’t quite the thing in looks but such a good man. Such a steady man. A safe refuge for a flighty, romantic thing like me. Mama made it seem as though…” Isolde didn’t finish her thought, but Violet could imagine.

  Lady Eleanor had pressured her daughter from the schoolroom, introduced them as a fate already accomplished, an established arrangement, and Isolde hadn’t found the gumption to kick up a fuss.

  Father said he’d try to stop things, but what if his little asides had been laughed off by Lady Eleanore? Isolde may have been entirely unaware that Father objected with his manner of protesting. He was so lackadaisical about things, and one had to be quite familiar of him to be aware of when he was unhappy. Would it be so surprising if Isolde wasn’t privy to that trait?

  “I think we see,” Mr. Barnes said gently. “Were you aware of any enemies?”

  Isolde shook her head. “Mama kept me focused on shopping and furniture. I just tried to enjoy the jewelry and not think too far ahead.”

  Victor set his down with a rather forceful click, but he did nothing more than cross his finger in front of him.

  Violet despised her next question, but it had to be asked. “What do you know of Helen Mathers?”

  Isolde glanced at Violet and blushed brightly enough that Violet thought her innocent sister may be rather aware of more than Violet would have guessed.

  “She distracted him from me, didn’t she?”

  Victor’s laugh was approving while Barnes looked on confused.

  “The lady friend,” Jack said under his breath, and clarity crossed Barnes’ expression. He’d clearly heard enough to know of her existence.

  “What do you know of the son?” Barnes asked.

  Isolde glanced at the table and blushed. She didn’t quite meet their eyes and Violet frowned. That was the look of a girl who had been pushed.

  “Did he express an interest in you?” Violet’s tone was bright, as though the idea didn’t infuriate her.

  Isolde nodded just a little.

  Vi’s anger was mounting, and she had to move her shaking fingers into her lap so Isolde didn’t see her reaction. The table was awkwardly silent as everyone tried to contain reactions to what Isolde had experienced. Isolde didn’t see it because she was hiding her gaze.

  Violet pressed her lips tightly together and then was unable to hold back. “Isolde, you cannot stop interest others might have in you. You cannot stop someone looking at you and thinking you are lovely. You are.” Violet reached over and took Isolde’s hand. “You cannot make a man keep his comments, gaze, or hands to himself. But if he does not, it is not your fault.”

  Isolde’s gaze lifted to Violet and the two sisters understood each other in a way that the men at the table could not.

  “I, however, can,” Victor said. “If you need me…”

  Violet’s laugh was gentle but ungiving when she said, “You won’t always be there, dear brother. If only all men were as you then Isolde and I would never need to worry our pretty little heads over it.”

  Violet’s mocking tone made everyone relax, so she squeezed Isolde’s hand and took a sip of her drink before changing the subject. “Isolde, what about those business partners. Gulliver and Higgins?”

  “I only ever regularly met Uncle Kennington and Mr. Mathers. Mr. Mathers and Mr. Danvers had done business for quite some time, I believe. Uncle Kennington and Norman Kennington only invested in the last year or two. They never really discussed business around me. Or anything really. We’d just eat and see a play, and I’d be delivered home. It was all very…”

  Again Isolde’s manners prevented her from expressing her real feelings, but Violet could imagine. Uncomfortable? A terrible foreshadowing of the future laid out for her? Vi made a mental note to talk to Victor about taking Isolde away as soon as this case was resolved. A little travel, school in the fall, a new step forward—perhaps her sister would learn to craft her own life.

  The questions Isolde answered filled out the picture that Mr. Danvers was a snake in the grass, Lady Eleanor an idiot woman who’d focused only on the piles of purported bullion, and the motives of the killer were still amorphous. It wasn’t that they didn’t exist, it was that none of the possible motives took shape with any clarity.

  Isolde excused herself when the questions were finished, and Violet gazed after her sister. She was tempted to follow, but a glance at Jack and the slight shake of his head told her that they weren’t finished questioning the twins.

  Violet rang the bell for Hargreaves and had him send Beatrice to care for Isolde while the rest of them adjourned to the library.

  Victor seated Violet in a chair near the fire, and the others joined her while Victor requested a coffee tray. Violet murmured a request for a mix of chamomile and mint tea, and his mouth tightened as he nodded. He knew that was the drink of choice when she didn’t feel quite the thing.

  “What a dashed mess!” Victor said, shoving his legs out before him and steepling his fingers. “By jove, I won’t pretend to be sorry it happened. Thank god it did!”

  “Where were you in the hours before?”

  Victor answered even though it seemed Jack and Mr. Barnes had a pretty good idea. Violet curled her legs under her and leaned her temple on her fingers in the fruitless attempt to push back the pain in her head.

  “Vi and I arrived together. We left Giles with the automobile. The wedding was scheduled for 10:00am, but we’d gotten there early since Vi wanted to love on Isolde a little. Let the dear thing know that we loved her even though we had tried to talk her out of the day. It was our attempt to form a bridge to see Isolde through after the wedding. So she’d feel safe coming to us if she needed to.”

  “She seems the type to put on a brave face and square her shoulders.”

  Victor nodded, displeased at the thought, before continuing. “It was around 9:00am when we made our way to the house. On the way, we saw Markus Kennington and Mr. Gulliver in quite an argument with Danvers. I sent Vi to our sister and remained behind.”

  “What happened?”

  “They walked it off, each of them taking off in a different direction. Our presence had burst whatever that argument was about.”

  “Did you see many of the guests?” Barnes asked.

  Victor considered before listing names. He suddenly turned to Vi. “Mathers. He and his girl were there at the wedding. She didn’t look well.”

  Violet nodded. “Oh yes…I saw him and Higgins and Gulliver too. Right before I noticed the body. They were on the lawn through the French doors.”

  “Did you notice anyone else at that moment?”

  Violet shook her head apologetically.

  “The…” Barnes glanced at Violet and then said quietly. “It is doubtful that any regular-sized woman would be strong enough to commit this crime.”

  Violet shuddered and closed her eyes.

  “Don’t think of it,” Victor told Vi, and she tried to smile for him.

  Hargreaves appeared with the tray. She pushed herself forward to pour for everyone, but Victor commanded her back, handing her a cup first and then pouring coffee for the others.

  “You’re an excellent hostess, brother.” Vi smiled into her tea. His smirk told her he wasn’t bothered.

  He’d made it sweet and lemony, and it helped settle her stomach, especially after the ginger
beer. She had mostly pulled apart the Yorkshire pudding and shuffled the stew around her dish at dinner.

  “From what we can tell, all of the major investors in Danvers scheme were in attendance early, along with your family.”

  “What are you thinking?” Vi hated the realization that, once again, her family were the main suspects in a murder.

  They didn’t answer her, finishing their coffee instead until the men made their excuses. Barnes and Victor stepped into the hall while Jack squatted in front of her once again.

  “You seem fragile.”

  “It won’t last,” she promised. “Aunt Agatha, after she was cleaned up, that was the only body I can remember seeing. The way…” Violet’s eyes filled with tears. “How did you survive the war?”

  He didn’t lose the sympathy for her when she asked the question. Not even though her trial had been so much less harrowing than his had.

  “The things men do to each other can be awful. The things men do for each other can be wonderful. I wasn’t in the trenches, thank god, but I saw men throw themselves over the body of a friend, one life for another. The good things aren’t exclusive to war heroism, either. People are heroic and kind and beautiful every day. Focus on those things and these megrims will fade.”

  Violet hoped it was true. Maybe at that moment merely because he did, she believed it, but she would cling to the idea all the same.

  “I’ll check on you tomorrow.” He pressed her hand and left her with her cooled tea. That hadn’t been a question, and it had been a little proprietary. Her imagination took momentary flight, and she smiled into her tea. Maybe it was better to focus on the little goodnesses of life and turn the big, horrible things over to God, fate, and the universe.

  Chapter 11

  The world was a better place when Violet woke. The most likely reason was because her head no longer had a drummer boy banging away inside. She dressed with more care than usual because the process of choosing a dress and applying her makeup gave her something to focus on besides the day before.

  What was happening with her father? Her brother, Gerald? Had Lady Eleanor forgiven Isolde in the light of her betrothed’s death or would there be recriminations and derision over the course of the day? Violet dabbed a light red on her lips and examined her powder. She was still a bit pale, but she’d have to do.

  She put her makeup carefully away, took off her kimono and sprayed herself with perfume before she put on the light blue dress. It set off the color of her skin and hair. She finished with a simple cameo at her neck and her hair tucked back with a plain comb. She looked fashionable enough but not bright. She examined the dress, considered the death the day before, and exchanged her dress for a dark grey one instead with a dropped waistline and pleated skirt.

  She made her way to Isolde’s room and found the girl. With dark circles under her eyes and her normally pale complexion still paler, Isolde could have been confused for a ghost.

  “Cheer up, cheerio,” Vi told her sister. “You’ll feel better after some food and tea.”

  Violet pushed her sister through dressing, putting the scattering of Isolde’s possessions away as her sister put on a black dress and said, “I suppose I’d better appear to be mourning.”

  Violet didn’t disagree, but she said, “Anyone with half a wit will know you escaped, my love. But putting on the black garb is the best idea. You can keep with it until we take you out of England and then drop the act once the fervor dies down. You can be a bright young thing again, slip into college, and it’ll all fade with the perfecting of your French and literature.”

  Isolde brightened at the idea. “Where shall we go? I have always wanted to visit Bruges, Belgium. My friend, Lisbeth, went. She said she’s never seen anything more beautiful.”

  “Certainly there,” Violet agreed without a thought and finished putting Isolde’s things away.

  The room was tidied, her sister was wan and beautiful in black, and the dark circles under her eyes had been masked with powder. They went down to the breakfast room together and found Victor sitting with Jack and Gerald.

  “Isolde, dear.” Gerald held his arms out to her, and she kissed each cheek and let him settle her, making a plate for her while she tried to drink her tea.

  Violet’s greeting from her brother was less enthusiastic, so she made herself a plate and didn’t fight the urge to seat herself next to Jack for breakfast.

  “You seem to be endlessly feeding me,” he murmured.

  Victor’s laugh distracted Jack from Vi’s blush, and she spread marmalade over her toast as Jack admitted, “I wanted to ensure all was well here.”

  “Who besides me is without an alibi?” Victor asked idly.

  “I am,” Gerald said, “And I’d have liked to kill the blighter.”

  Isolde’s shocked glance had Gerald holding up his hands and admitting, “I didn’t of course, love. Of course I didn’t. I came by to let Wakefield here know that there’s a bit of a tizzy happening at Kennington house. Not sure of the details. Everyone becomes silent as monks when I enter. But a lot of hissing and bywords. Muttering and dire looks. You’d think someone was on death’s door instead of a blighter we hardly liked already gone.”

  “Hardly liked.” Isolde’s offense at Gerald’s opinion of her fiancé made Vi’s lips twitch, so she sipped her coffee to hide her reaction.

  “You knew I didn’t like him, Isolde. Don’t pretend to be surprised now. Is there tea?” Gerald demanded. “What’s wrong with a good cuppa?”

  “Vi and I adjusted to coffee in Italy, boyo.” Victor nodded to Hargreaves, who disappeared from his post near the door. The household had only the cook, the butler, Beatrice and Giles. The servants tended to do quite a bit of double duty when it came to things like this.

  They should, Vi thought, probably hire at least one more daily.

  “Violet says we can go to Bruges,” Isolde told Victor.

  His gaze flicked to Vi’s, who nodded once, but she noticed Jack’s gaze had narrowed on her face. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. Isolde needed someone to take out of the country and distract her. Who else could do it?

  “Be good for you to get out of the way until things die down,” Gerald said with a glance between Jack and Violet. Her eldest brother didn’t look disapproving. More contemplative.

  “After the killer is found, I’m afraid. At least for the gentlemen.” It was Jack who cut in and Violet prevented a sigh of relief. She wanted to go to Bruges…just not without Jack. When had this happened to her?

  “A few weeks in Belgium will be just the thing before college, Isolde,” Violet reminded her. “College will shake off this temporary madness, give you a safe place to provide you some distance and help you find your own wants. If you wish to wed and have children…”

  “I…” She looked as though it was hard to say and then her mouth firmed and she admitted, “It’s always what I wanted.”

  “Then you can do so,” Violet said calmly, “to a man you actually wish to spend your days with.”

  “Mother says you are too mannish to marry,” Isolde told Violet. “Do you not wish to marry?”

  Violet snorted before she admitted, “Perhaps. I have had offers, but I have no desire to marry for the sake of the institution. For love, I’d marry for that.”

  “Love,” Gerald repeated. “Women are all the same.”

  “Don’t you believe in love, old man?” Victor leaned back and crossed his leg, waiting for Gerald to reply.

  “On occasion,” Gerald said. “Less on days like the last few.”

  “You had better marry,” Victor told Gerald strictly. “I don’t want that title saddled on me, old boy. If you can’t find love, find someone fun, have a kid or two and go back to your shooting or whatever it is that you like.”

  “Managing the estates is work, Victor,” Violet told her brother. “It isn’t as though Gerald is the layabout you are.”

  “That is exactly the problem I am referring to, darling one. Save me,
Gerald. Save me from the title and the responsibility. Better yet, save Violet. She’ll do it for me, you know. She doesn’t deserve such a fate.”

  “Siblings, please,” Jack said. “I have been conscripted and must be about my day. No leaving London until you’re cleared to go.”

  They all nodded, and Violet walked him to the door.

  “I’d still like to have dinner and the play. If your mother doesn’t object.”

  Violet barely held back the derisive snort that comment deserved. “Her taste in sons-in-law is not one I endorse.”

  Jack shifted just a little closer. He didn’t cross any proprietary lines, but his bulk made Violet feel safe once again. With Jack, who wouldn’t feel safe?

  “Keep close to Victor until the fiend is caught. Isolde and yourself.”

  Violet nodded and realized she should check on Lady Eleanor and Father. She should do it that day, but there was something else that had been growing in her mind since she’d woken, and she needed to bare her soul.

  “May I speak with you for a few moments?”

  Jack nodded and followed her into the parlor. “I had forgotten what I had done.”

  His gaze went from inquisitive to serious as she started to pace, stopping here and there to straighten a knick-knack or a pillow.

  “What did you do?” he asked after she’d straightened one of the pillows twice.

  “I…when…” Violet’s mouth pursed, then she nibbled on her lower lip. “I couldn’t abide Danvers. Especially after he manhandled me as he did. I could see Isolde’s future, and it was full of far worse than a bruise on an arm.”

  Jack nodded and didn’t speak. The silence tugged at Violet until she pressed shaking finger to her mouth and said, “I knew from Fredericks that Danvers’ investments were very unlikely to be sound. I knew a few names of the investors. I had Fredericks approach them. I wrote concerned letters myself. To Harry and Helen Mathers. I…Jack…” She sat near him on the edge of the seat. “I told Fredericks to spend what he needed of my money to tug at the scheme. To see if he could make it fall apart. If Danvers was proven to be poor, Lady Eleanor would delay the wedding and then later cancel it. I knew she would. I…think it must all come back to me. This murder…it’s my fault.”