by Beth Byers
“Of course.” Violet looked around the room, noting the two cousins standing side-by-side with their fathers, another old gent, and—oh! It couldn’t be. Violet leaned forward. It was. Vi closed her eyes and breathed slowly in through her nose, striving for patience. Jack stood directly next to the old gent and the next person over was none other than Miss Emily Allen, Jack’s one-time fiancé and a reporter. What madness was this and just how did they end up at the same house party?”
Violet met Jack’s gaze and his was full of apology. She knew he’d had no idea. He would have warned her and let her decide whether they were going to come after all. Vi smiled at him, full of a promise that she wasn’t mad and he relaxed under her gentle nod. She didn’t hold him accountable for having once loved the woman. It was just…not what Violet needed or wanted. She winked at him, but he wasn’t so easily dissuaded from reality. Whether they liked it or not, Emily Allen was once again in their eyes and her gaze was far too observant for anyone’s good.
Chapter 11
“Why is she here?” Violet hissed as she glanced through the bedroom. Beatrice, the perfect maid, had already unpacked all of Violet’s clothes and seen them steamed from their wrinkles. Her gown for that evening—the purple one—was hanging on the side of the mirror with Violet’s accessories. “Oh, I missed her as a maid. Look at my dresses! Perfection.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Smith said, and Violet choked on a scream. “Are you talking about Miss Allen? I read her articles about you. They were my favorite reading of the last year.”
Jack roughly grabbed Smith’s arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m the help man. Just here to light the fires.”
“I’ve got the fire,” Jack growled. “Get out of our rooms.”
Smith shrugged. “I’ve been through everyone else’s rooms today. I am also here to report, O Captain, my Captain.” The sarcasm was not the way to calm Jack down.
He growled again and Violet put her hand on his arm. “Smith won’t come into our room again.” She shot him a commanding look that promised retribution. Unlike Jack who’d get physical, Violet would just pull in Beatrice. “And you’ll calm down,” she said to Jack.
Jack let go of Smith and then stepped back. His jaw was still tight, and he was still tense, but he’d calmed down enough to not murder Smith.
Violet turned to Smith, who held the same smirk as usual. From his expression, it was like nothing had happened even though Smith hadn’t been able to get free. Or at least get free without causing things to escalate further.
Vi kept herself from shaking her finger at the two of them and then scolding them like schoolboys. Her gaze narrowed on Smith. “If you scare me like that again, I’ll tell Beatrice.”
He lifted a brow and his smile was mocking, but Violet was guessing that her threat would work better than he’d like.
To Jack, she said, “We need to learn what he’s found out.”
“He’s going to get shot if he isn’t careful. Slipping in and out of people’s rooms will get a man killed.” Jack’s fury was barely restrained and she took hold of his hand to be sure he’d hesitate before he lashed out.
“Jack,” Violet said gently, “Smith knows that. He’s well aware of the risks. He’s a wolf, just like us.”
Smith snorted. “I should have been careful when it came to your rooms.” Vi about died when he explained. “I didn’t want to be caught entering them. I am supposed to be preparing the dining room.” He laughed. “I suspect I may be let go before this weekend is over even though I am temporary help. Or Beatrice will cover for me.”
“She’s probably covering for you right now,” Violet agreed. “What did you find out?”
“Joseph keeps a journal. He’s not in any financial trouble. His biggest woe is that his wife can’t get pregnant, and he’s sure it’s his fault. Something about the mumps and failing her. It’s all very dramatic for a bloke. I blush for him.”
Violet waited as Jack finally sat down on the end of the bed and tugged her to join him. “Ahhh,” Violet said. “He looked after drunk Phoebe and worries over his wife’s happiness and their children.”
Smith snorted. “He doesn’t want to adopt even though she does, and he thinks she’s gained too much weight and needs to be less rude to Phoebe who is ‘a good gal.’”
“Phoebe is a vicious snake when it comes to Delilah.” Violet stretched her arms back and glanced at the clock. “We’re supposed to be ready soon for dinner. What else do you know?”
Smith spread his hands. “Nothing really. Phoebe and Harold weren’t helpful enough to leave out a handy journal or letters. I tried for the library and the will, but I haven’t been able to get access yet. The old woman was in her rooms and then her maid was in there. I’ll have to try during dinner for the Stevens woman’s room.”
Violet nodded. “Go then. We need to dress. The will would be incredibly helpful. Or letters between the family members. Olly Rees would likely have kept them. People of his generation often do.”
Smith shot Violet a look that said she was telling an expert what to do.
“Fine, apologies,” Violet said to Smith. “Out.”
“Look through Olly Rees’ room,” Jack said. “He might well keep private papers in his bedroom.”
Smith’s glance to Jack said the same thing that his look to Violet had said. Don’t tell him how to do this. He was better, Violet thought, at breaking the rules.
Violet took a long breath in and then walked to the bathroom. The door was locked and as she returned to their bedroom, she had a moment of feeling entirely put out not to have a private bath. She glanced at Jack, who read her face and then laughed. Violet crossed to the dress and examined it. They’d spent several hours in the auto and she wanted to at least rinse her body before she dressed. She frowned at the bath door and then crossed and knocked.
“One moment,” a female’s voice called, and Violet had no idea if it was Phoebe, Delilah, or the sister, Charlotte.
“Thank you,” Violet replied and went back to the room to find Jack shaving, using the pitcher and bowl in the room that Beatrice had filled if Violet had to guess.
“It felt like Phoebe was deliberately trying to upset Delilah,” Violet told him, watching him shave. “It felt like an attack and she was using me to do so, which I didn’t like at all.”
Jack lifted his brows. “Why aren’t you talking about the other thing?”
“You mean Miss Allen?”
Jack’s expression told Violet that he didn’t want to play games.
“Jack,” Violet said gently. “I know that you love me. We’re long past the moment when I met her and had no idea that you were once engaged to her.”
Jack winced at the reminder. “Ah, the good old days.”
Violet chuckled. She didn’t like Emily Allen, but she wasn’t afraid of the woman coming between her and Jack.
“I had a moment of fear that you’d throw me over in a fury when you met her,” Jack confessed.
“But I didn’t.” Violet patted his cheek and then pushed up on her toes to kiss his chin. “I love you, Jack. We should have guessed that Miss Allen would be invited given that Mrs. Stevens said she had talked to her about us. It’s so odd that they’re having this house party in the same house where the man died so recently.”
“It is in poor taste,” Jack agreed and then winked as he added, “as is our being here.”
“At least we didn’t know Mr. Rees. Most of these people are thinking about the last time they were here. He was here, he was the host, and that was just weeks ago. That’s in far more poor taste than us being here.”
“Oh yes,” Jack said sarcastically, “Their having greater poor taste absolutely alleviates ours.”
Violet snorted even though they both believed that just because one person stole jewelry and the other person stole a coat, they were both thieves. One person’s greater crime didn’t change the crime the other person committed.
&nbs
p; Violet checked the bath and found it empty. She left Jack behind, rinsing herself, washing her face, and freshening her hair before she turned to the bedroom where she put on her dress, stockings, and then turned to her cosmetics and jewelry. When she finished dressing, she took Jack’s arm and asked, “What shall we do? Just watch?”
“I think we should nudge,” Jack said. “Up the problem and try to draw out the drama. We need information.”
Violet paused, immediately balking to do as Jack suggested and then agreeing it was the best. They didn’t have long to solve this possible murder. Better to spur the family into a fight and hope they’d let some tidbits drop.
The house wasn’t so large to get lost and they found others in the hallway as they made their way down the stairs. Violet introduced herself to the woman who had the room next to theirs and found herself talking to Charlotte, Harold’s sister.
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said after she trailed off for the third time. “I’m just a little uncomfortable with this whole thing. I think Aunt Stevens should not be having this party right now.”
“Were you close with Mr. Rees?” Violet asked.
Charlotte paused and then explained, “As a child, yes. Father didn’t live so far from here, and Grandmother wanted us around as often as possible. I married a missionary, you know. My dear husband and I live in the Territory of New Guinea.”
“Where is that? Is it in the Caribbean?”
Charlotte shook her head. “It’s an island in Australia.”
“Oh is it? It’s quite hot there, isn’t it?”
“It’s summer in Australia right now,” Charlotte agreed. “It’s rather nice to avoid the worst of the heat there with a little home-flavored rain.”
“So you haven’t been as close to your grandfather since spending so much time away?”
Charlotte nodded and then paused to hold her fingers to her mouth. “I knew I would lose time with him,” she said with a shaking voice. “But I didn’t realize how hard it would be when the chance to change my mind had passed. Perhaps we could have done better work closer to home. Perhaps our relationships and kindnesses here, in our own vineyard so to speak, was what we should have done. It has sent my husband and I for quite a loop.”
Violet gasped. “Are you thinking of staying in England?”
“It’s bad enough, isn’t it? With Grandfather? What will it be like when it’s Father? It’s not just my father, of course. Liam is thinking the same thing with his parents and grandparents. He’s lucky enough to still have all of them. Why should we toss that bounty away?”
Violet paused and then admitted, “I couldn’t leave my family. Not for years. You were brave to do so, but perhaps it is time to come home.”
Charlotte sniffed and then glanced back. “I do wish Liam would hurry along. Vanity is his worst trait.” She laughed low and then was teary again when she said, “Grandfather did love to tease him about it. Every time he sent Liam a gift, it was some sort of pomade, a comb, a little pair of scissors. Oh! Listen to me. Listen to me weeping on your shoulder. How do you know my grandfather?”
Violet hated herself for fudging but she said, “Your Grandfather and great aunt and my family have known each other for quite some time. Did you know that your aunt knew my grandmother and mother better than I did? Such an odd world when you think about it.”
“Have you lost both your grandmother and mother?”
Violet nodded. “I believe Oscar Wilde would describe me as quite negligent.”
Charlotte paused and then surprised herself and Violet with a watery laugh. “Negligent indeed. Both of us. Losing our family as we have.” She smiled at Violet and reached out to take her hand and squeeze it. “Thank you. I needed that. And perhaps to see someone who has made it through the worst of the mourning.”
Chapter 12
The dining hall was full. Mrs. Stevens sat at the head of the table with Miss Allen, Mr. Baldwin—the earl’s friend—the children and grandchildren of Olly Rees all in attendance, leaving Jack and Violet as the only ones unfamiliar with the family. While Violet wasn’t concerned about Emily Allen’s effect on Jack, she was relieved when they were seated at opposite ends of the table.
The guests ate quietly with uncomfortable glances around that declared they all knew they shouldn’t be there. Neither Violet nor Jack tried to press for information. It was simply too awkward and in bad taste given the level of discomfort. Conversations started and then faded into nothing, other than a rather long and tedious discussion between Joseph and Mr. Baldwin on the effect of chills on old wounds.
Once that conversation petered out, everyone returned to staring at their plates until Mrs. Stevens stood. She ignored every dark look cast her way as she lifted her glass.
“To my brother,” Mrs. Stevens said, looking around the table. “Strong, energetic, aware, precise, and quite young for our family to be dead. The youngest, in fact, for four generations other than those who died in war, childbirth, and a rather idiotic hot air balloon accident.”
Phoebe choked on her wine as Mrs. Stevens tilted her head and looked around the table.
“Look at you all. Lying to yourselves. Telling yourself that poor Olly succumbed quietly to death’s embrace. Dying in his sleep for no reason whatsoever.”
Those around the table started mumbling a low roar of whispering. Olly’s sons were staring at their aunt in horror while Delilah had started to weep, drawing a scowl from Phoebe, who seemed offended by Delilah’s tears. The sons of Olly Rees and their wives were stoic, but their gazes were hard.
“He wasn’t ill, was he?” Mrs. Stevens asked.
No one answered.
“Was he?” she demanded more stridently.
Again, no one answered but several shuffled in their seats.
“He didn’t even have a sniffle, did he, Joseph?”
Joseph gasped at his name and his weeping wife reached over and took his hand as he stammered. “Grandfather Olly seemed quite well before he died, Aunt Stevens, but—”
“No buts,” Mrs. Stevens said sharply, cutting Joseph off. “He wasn’t ill. He wasn’t struggling with his heart. Did you know he’d just been to the doctor? Alexander did you know that?”
To Violet’s surprise, Alexander nodded.
No one else answered.
Mrs. Stevens seemed to loom even higher over the table, glancing down at each of her relatives. “You each have grasped onto the idea that Olly succumbed in his sleep despite Dr. Welch having said he was quite healthy only weeks before. Dear Olly’s heart was strong, his lungs were clear, he had no inexplicable pain.”
“It could have been an apoplectic fit,” Delilah said. “A friend of my father’s collapsed suddenly just months ago.”
Violet winced when Mrs. Stevens fiery gaze turned on Delilah.
“There were signs of struggle weren’t there, Edgar?” Mrs. Stevens demanded without looking away from Delilah.
Olly’s second son hesitated but weakened when his aunt’s gaze darted to him. “I suppose he could have been quite uncomfortable when he passed.”
“Or he could have been smothered,” Mrs. Stevens snapped. “You know he slept like the dead, never moving. That wasn’t what the room looked like – someone could have held a pillow over my dear brother’s face and stolen his life.”
“Aunt Stevens,” Oliver, the older of Olly’s sons said, “that is quite enough of that.”
“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing, Oliver? Edgar? I think you realized that something untoward happened to your father and you realized that one of your children could have been responsible. Was likely responsible—”
Charlotte gasped, glancing about the table as though she couldn’t imagine such a terrible thing. But, Violet thought, she might well have been entirely unaware of what had been happening among the family. They surely would have been out of the habit of including the distant, solitary granddaughter of Olly Rees.
The table’s murmuring was rabid, but Charlotte’
s voice cut through it with a high-pitched demand. “Why would anyone have killed Grandfather? He didn’t have enemies. Did he?”
Again, no one answered.
“Did he?” Charlotte almost screeched.
“Of course he didn’t, Lottie,” her father assured her. “Aunt Stevens, let’s calm down now, shall we? This is all quite dramatic.”
Mrs. Stevens snorted.
Charlotte’s husband wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It is possible that he passed away in his sleep. You might be a long-lived family, but to expect that you will all be so blessed is a special sort of arrogance.”
Mrs. Stevens laughed coldly. “It is also a special sort of arrogance to see only what you want to see rather than what is before you.”
“But is it before us?” Edgar asked, remaining calm. He glanced towards his two sons and their wives and then back to his aunt. “I have never seen anything more horrible than my father lying dead when I expected to find him having a lie-in with a good book.”
Violet reached under the table and took Jack’s hand as the family turned on each other. It was the pained looks on their faces that truly upset Vi. This was a family who was overall nauseated by the sheer idea that someone had stolen their grandfather. The cousins Joseph and Harold were both holding their wives while Joseph also had a hand on Harold’s shoulder. Delilah was weeping while Charlotte was a sickly pale.
The two sons of Olly were both white. Their wives were silent, but each had signs of stress. Mrs. Edgar’s wife was holding a clenched handkerchief between her fingers while Mrs. Oliver Rees was pale, but her attention was on her husband. Violet could see Mrs. Oliver’s hand moving as she rubbed her husband’s back consolingly.
Mr. Baldwin and Miss Allen were both silent and composed. Did Violet and Jack look the same? Were they as emotionless of observers as the other two while the Rees family fell apart?
“That is enough, Aunt Stevens,” Oliver Rees said. He stood as he faced his aunt. “We loved Father. Of course we did. Why would any of us murder him?”
