by Beth Byers
Violet was fully trembling at that point. Terrified he’d be disgusted by her, afraid to let her mind touch too closely on what she might have caused. Trying to fight that memory. That terrible memory of the blood, the hand, the lank of hair.
“This is not your fault, Violet.”
She looked up at him, his great shoulders so easy to throw her burdens upon.
“Whoever did this was reacting to a crime that Danvers committed. Their reaction would have happened sooner or later. What if he’d married Isolde and she’d been present? Your actions might have saved your sister’s life. We can’t know how things may have turned out.”
She nodded and then said, “You’ll need to talk to Fredericks.”
Jack agreed.
“He’ll talk more freely if I am there.”
“Not Victor?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Fredericks was part of Agatha’s training. He spent time with all of us cousin that Aunt Agatha raised. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she gave all of us the chance to learn to manage what she’d created. I thought I might as well learn and apply to what Victor and I had. It was why…” Violet stopped, overcome by the death that mattered. It was why she’d been the one who inherited. Of them all, she was the only one who’d listened and learned.
“I understand,” Jack said. “Bring Victor? Two o’clock?”
Violet agreed and Jack left. She didn’t go back to the breakfast room but up to her bedroom. After a moment, she pulled out her journal and sent for tea.
The end of the morning passed with her admitting to herself as she wrote that her feelings for Jack would not be reasoned with, that she had no desire to go to Belgium, but she knew she’d be going all the same, and that she might have contributed to the situation that caused the death of a man.
A bad man, yes. But if history laid out the things that lead to his death, her actions would be part of the reasons why. She had, however, acted in good faith in the attempt to save her sister from a man who had been a scoundrel. She could not let this result ruin her. All she could do, she realized, was trust that her good intentions mattered. That they both mattered and had consequences. Consequences both good and bad. Today her sister was still a free young girl and a vile man had died.
Violet set her pen aside and made a list for Giles. She wanted another typewriter, a journal for Isolde. She needed to learn the importance of discovering her thoughts and desires through writing. Perhaps, if journaling worked for Isolde as it did for both Violet and Victor, Isolde wouldn’t be trapped by the plans of others again.
The last thing on the list was a book about Belgium. Violet didn’t want to be unprepared for this trip. When that was done, she sent her request to Giles with Beatrice and then made a new list. On this one she put several names:
Helen Mathers
Harry Mathers
Markus Kennington
Norman Kennington
Mr. Gulliver
Mr. Higgins
Hugo Danvers
Unlike when she’d made a list of suspects after Aunt Agatha died, Violet didn’t bother with putting Gerald or Victor’s names on it. She didn’t think even Jack believed that either of them were truly suspects. But she had to consider adding Father’s. What if he’d learned that Danvers had been corrupting Helen Mathers? What if Father had learned that Isolde had been pressured into this wedding by the work of his wife and family? What if Father had learned that Danvers had intended to steal away Isolde and treat her poorly?
Would the same lion he’d imparted to Victor, Gerald, Peter, and Geoffrey appear? Violet had never seen that side of her father, but she’d seen it in her brothers often enough that she was certain it existed. Somewhere in his blood was the same conquering soul that had carved out a piece of England and a title for his heirs.
Slowly, she etched out the final name.
Henry Carlyle
Chapter 12
Victor took Violet’s coat as they entered the business offices. The man, Jones, was at his desk, ears red. He must have gotten quite a talking to at his reaction to Violet’s appearance. She grinned at him and said, “Blustery outside, isn’t it?”
“Yes, m’lady. I…” The start of an apology appeared on his face.
Violet tut-tutted. “Think nothing of it.”
His face turned even a more brilliant red, and Violet turned to see that Jack and Mr. Barnes had appeared behind them.
“Hullo,” she said brightly. Jack searched her face carefully so she pasted a happy smile on her face. It didn’t reach her eyes, and she was sure he noticed. His mouth tightened, but neither of them said a thing. And neither of them pulled the wool over their companions’ gazes. Victor and Mr. Barnes knew their counterparts far too well for that.
Mr. Fredericks already had a tea tray in the office and they all helped themselves before taking their seats.
“Lady Violet, how may I assist you?”
“You heard of Mr. Danvers’ death?”
Fredericks nodded once, his face solemn and composed.
“I’m concerned that my actions regarding his investment scheme precipitated his death.”
Fredericks frowned and adjusted the papers in front of him. He did not, however, provide her false comfort. He simply cleared his throat.
“It is possible, my lady. I have discovered rather a lot of money has been wrapped up in Mr. Danvers and those schemes.”
Violet glanced at Jack and Mr. Barnes, who asked a series of questions about who had been involved.
“The small investors are unlikely to realize that there was a problem and to find it worth killing over,” Barnes said. “Tell us the bigger names.”
Fredericks glanced at Violet, who nodded, and he answered. “Mr. Markus Kennington, Mr. Norman Kennington, Lord Henry Carlyle.” Fredericks paused and Victor shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but Violet had suspected their father’s involvement might be the case before they’d appeared. Mr. Danvers had been too much in Lady Eleanor’s pocket for it to be otherwise.
“Mr. Mathers?” Violet asked smoothly.
“He and Mr. Danvers had been partners for decades, m’lady. If anyone knew the true nature of what we suspect, it would be Mr. Mathers.”
She wasn’t surprised to hear Mr. Gulliver or Mr. Higgins involved when Fredericks continued. They’d worked with Danvers to try to corner Violet about her inheritance. She considered while the others murmured about guessed percentages and amounts. The details of the total amount invested was far less concerning than who had invested all they had. Violet was certain that Gerald wouldn’t have done such a thing as invest everything, and he had the bulk of Father’s money in his care.
She just couldn’t put her father in the real suspect column. She had written his name on her list, but she didn’t believe it. She might not want to believe it, but she was going to presume he wasn’t the killer until she could no longer face anything else.
“Who,” Violet asked, interrupting, “would lose everything should this investment scheme turn out to be what we suspect?”
Fredericks paused before speaking. “Certainly Higgins and Gulliver. Not your father or Mr. Markus Kennington. I have been unable to ascertain how much Mr. Norman Kennington invested. However, he does have some reliable incomes that would continue as long as he didn’t mortgage them to invest, and I do not believe that is the case.”
Violet stood and started pacing Mr. Frederick’s office. She noted it was dusted recently with the papers, except for the few in front of him, tucked into folders or drawers. She grinned and glanced the men. Each of them was watching her pace.
Violet thought back to her list and wondered if people would kill if it wasn’t all of their money.
“Where does Mr. Mathers get his income? Just with Danvers or did he have separated interests?”
“That isn’t clear. He doesn’t have debts racked about the city like Mr. Danvers. He paid his daughter’s school bills on time. I can’t be sure how much he might have lost.�
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Mr. Barnes finished with his questions. “This has been very helpful.” He paused before asking, “Did Mr. Danvers intend to marry Isolde for her money?”
Mr. Fredericks said, “Lord Carlyle is very careful with his income and his children. The amount he invested was paltry compared to his wealth. What he set aside for Isolde is wrapped up tightly for her.”
“Do you believe that Mr. Danvers was aware of that?”
“It is possible he was led to believe that he’d be able to access those funds upon their marriage.”
Mr. Barnes brows rose, and Victor answered the unspoken question. “Our stepmother. She has an infinite faith in her ability to sway my father with what he has to offer and how it will be laid out.”
Violet finished. “We have a little half-brother, Geoffrey. He is the moon in her skies and the rest of us must fend for ourselves, and if she could give him everything, she would. He’s also the youngest of us. Father will do his best for him, but Gerald and not bankrupting the estate is the priority.”
Jack and Mr. Barnes gave their thanks and left, the official questioning over.
Violet asked Mr. Fredericks, “Was there anything you didn’t share?”
Mr. Fredericks hesitated. “People have lost fortunes many times over, my lady. Any choices that were made because we prodded the house of cards doesn’t mean responsibility lies at your feet. It would have all fallen apart eventually.”
Violet agreed, and they discussed their own business for several minutes before Victor and Violet took their leave.
“Shall we lunch at that little Chinese food restaurant, darling?”
Violet thought that just the thing. They lingered over their dishes of noodles and chicken and their Chinese wine. They avoided going home, and Violet had to admit it was because she didn’t want to hear Isolde chatter about Belgium. That made Violet think of Jack and made her second guess every little thing she’d said or done in the last few days, let alone when she’d been at Aunt Agatha’s house and hadn’t realized her infatuation would grow and grow.
She had journaled just that morning about the effect of him squatting down in front of her when she was at her end and how it made her feel. She couldn’t deny it had been wonderful. Delightful even. Delicate. Important. Important to someone.
She knew that she was important to Victor. She was discovering that she’d mattered to Isolde. Vi knew her father loved her in a distant sort of way and was realizing that despite the distance between her siblings caused by Lady Eleanor and being half-raised by Aunt Agatha, Vi’s other siblings had loved and cared for her. She hadn’t felt it until recently though. That realization mattered as did the realization that mattering to people changed her perspective about herself and her place in the world.
They had long since finished their meal when Violet asked suddenly, “What if we were to go visit Helen Mathers?”
“For condolences on the death of a lover who was throwing her over for someone with more money?” Victor’s scoff was unwarranted in Violet’s opinion, but she nodded. “You’ll have to do better than that, love.”
“As concerned friends,” Violet suggested. “Who knew Helen attended the wedding and felt bad about…”
“We feel bad someone murdered someone else?” Victor smirked.
Vi scowled. “To…represent the family. A personal apology.”
Victor drained his small wine glass and said, “It isn’t like they can do much more than throw us out as we’ll deserve. If you want to try it, I’m with you. Any idea where they live?”
Violet shook her head. “We can’t ask Jack. He’d tell us to stay out of it. I wonder if Isolde knows where Helen lives.”
Victor rang up their house and inquired, and they left the restaurant soon after with the address in hand. Victor left his car, and they took a cab simply because the driver had a far better chance in knowing how to get there.
The travel through London was slow, and Violet was bouncing as she pondered different ways to approach Helen. She finally determined on playing the concerned friend. It would very much be playacting as Violet and Helen only knew each other in passing, attending the same parties and what not before Violet had inherited and Helen had gotten caught up with her father’s business partner. Violet shuddered. Being courted by Danvers would be very much like having poems read to the beauty of your eyes or other such nonsense—by your father.
This was why women had worked so hard to gain their rights. Of course, Violet supposed that those very rights gave Helen the choice to fall for her father’s business partner. Just because Violet found it unwarrantable didn’t mean she had to…oh! This was no time to be debating the rights of women. How could Violet get Helen to confide in her?
Perhaps just the wait of her silence? That was method that Aunt Agatha used when Violet was a child. A leading question, a benign expression, a long silence. If you could wait out the intended victim, sometimes all you needed was the silence. Too often people couldn’t stand the weight of it and filled it against their better interest.
The part of London where the Mathers lived didn’t proclaim why someone like Danvers would seek them out. It wasn’t over-the-top houses that shouted wealth and status. The house was, rather, a sturdy brick above with a garden, with a girl walking a dog in the park across the street from the houses, a woman feeding birds from a park bench, and a nanny letting children fly a kite and chase through the grass.
None of the houses were ostentatious, though they were all nice. None of them had stone lions, personalized gates, or topiary. Yet they were made of brick with cut lawns, clean streets, and the nice park available for their use.
This wasn’t so very different from where Victor’s neighborhood actually. Violet examined each of the houses carefully and then they walked up to the door of number 18.
Chapter 13
The door of Mather’s house had been painted a deep garnet red and the knocker was a fanciful lion. Violet examined it before she used it and told Victor, “You should get one of those fun knockers but a dragon instead.”
“I don’t have the same love for all things Asian as you do, luv. When Wakefield succeeds in binding you to him, you’ll have to take a honeymoon and visit Japan or China. Hong Kong, perhaps? Buy one for yourself there and bring it back to your very English home.”
Violet grinned at her brother. “I doubt very much that the British version of Asian things will be very much the same as they are there.” She would have continued, but the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman in a black dress.
“Hello,” Violet said brightly. “Lord and Lady Carlyle for Helen Mathers. We’re old friends.”
“She’s not here,” the woman said with a tight mouth. It was nearly an accusation, as though Vi and Victor should know that Helen wasn’t at home.
“Oh that is too bad,” Violet said. “We were so hoping to have an outing with her and catch up on old times. Do you know when she’ll return?”
“Won’t be back for some time,” the woman snapped.
“What about Mr. Mathers?” Victor insert smoothly with the same bright smile. “We’d love to see him as well.”
“They’re both gone. Won’t be back anytime soon. Leave your card if ya want.”
Victor smoothly pulled a card out to leave with the woman, but before he did, he inquired again, “We saw her just recently.”
“Gone sick, she has,” the woman said. “Real sick. Don’t think she’ll be back for quite a while.”
“Oh I say,” Victor said, keeping the genial tone but adding a touch of concern, “that is too bad. Is there somewhere we can send a get well chocolate or a card? Perhaps some flowers?”
The woman shook her head, took the card, and said, “I’ll see she gets this.” The door closed in their faces. The twins turned to each other and then glanced back at the door.
“What the devil?” Victor swore. “We just saw her. She was pale, I suppose. But so sick she had to leave home?”
Violet
played with the ring on her finger as she thought over what she’d seen of Helen. She had been kissing Danvers rather fervently in that club. The action of a girl who’d been spurned? No. Perhaps, Vi though, the action of a girl who hoped desperately that somehow the marriage would not come to pass. The act of a girl in love?
She’d seemed sick at the wedding. Maybe? Definitely sad. What if she had been in love? Or…Vi’s brows rose as another, more terrible idea hit her. What if Helen had been expecting? What if Danvers had persuaded the girl into bed? She wasn’t much older than Isolde. Would she know how to protect herself against an unwanted result?
What would a girl like Helen do if she found herself in such a condition and the man who had been the father had intended to marry another? That would leave one heartbroken and listless. Pale and sick looking. It was all conjecture, of course, but possible.
She placed her hand on Victor’s arm, knowing he’d never had to think of such things, and they started down the path to their car. The girl from the park, with the large spaniel stood there, hand on the leash of her dog.
“Hullo there,” Victor said charmingly. He could be quite persuasive to the opposite sex, and Violet watched him almost angrily as he introduced them and ask, “The younger Miss Mathers?”
The girl nodded. Her dimple was flashing and she gazed up at Victor with a wide, shocked gaze when he turned his attention to her.
“Whatever are you doing here instead of school?” Vi’s tone wasn’t accusatory.
“Oh…I came home to spend the weekend with the family and…something came up.”
“We heard your sister was quite ill,” Violet said. “We’re so concerned.”
Something in the girl’s face said that at least part of what they’d heard was a lie. Victor started to inquire, but Vi squeezed his elbow and he glanced at her. She shook her head slightly, and they turned inquiring gazes at the girl.
