by Beth Byers
Jack shook his head, but no one had an answer.
Chapter Eleven
When Violet returned to her room, she wasn’t surprised to find the chalkboard despite the late hour. She was, however, surprised to find Kate sleeping on the end of her bed with Victor sitting next to her, holding her hand. Then there was Denny writing neatly on the board—who would have even thought the lazy man had such perfect penmanship? That required actual practice, something Violet wouldn’t have expected in Denny of all people. Lila was sitting near the fire, cocktail in hand, box of chocolates on her lap, feet up on the opposite chair.
“This is all quite unexpected,” Violet told them. She read the board over. There were neat lines separating the names of everyone in the house. Denny had included young Geoffrey but left off the servants.
“Just starting the best part,” Denny said, glancing over his shoulder with a grin.
“I was a suspect,” Violet told them all at once. “They asked very insinuating questions of me. Miss Emily Allen struck harder than she knew with that article of hers. Between Father and Jack, I believe I’ve moved down the suspect list, though I am certainly still a person of interest.”
“Where is Jack?” Victor asked with lifted brows and a frown that said he was displeased Violet had returned alone.
“Speaking to the doctor about a rather startling revelation.”
Denny held his hands out for the information as if receiving a rather exciting gift.
“It’s a bit morbid, my lad, how much you enjoy this madness.”
He grinned unrepentantly and without an ounce of shame. “Darling Vi. I didn’t do the killing. I won’t apologize for admiring the way your mind works.”
“Jack is a much better investigator than I am,” she told Denny. “Why aren’t you following him around?”
“Yes, darling, we all know that. The problem is Jack! He follows the rules and walks the straight path. He won’t give details. You, my dear sweet devil, you follow the rumors, pry into the secrets, put them all up neatly on the board, and string them together as though you’re making a necklace.”
Violet paused, stepping back. “Victor, wake up your love and take her to her bedroom.”
“I’ll make sure she’s locked in and then come check on you, darling Vi.” Victor didn’t wake Kate, just lifted her into his arms. It was odd, Violet thought, that Kate was tired. Was she getting sick? If she did, would they get sick too? Violet couldn’t imagine anything worse than being truly ill in Lady Eleanor’s home. It was bad enough being ill when Victor turned into a mean infant.
Vi glanced at Kate and Victor and hoped it was only exhaustion. It had been a long night, and Violet was sure that if she wasn’t feeling quite so haunted, she’d be craving her bed too.
“Out,” she told Denny, glancing at Lila, who slowly put down her cocktail and cocked her head at Violet.
“Did you want me to stay with you? Denny can warm his toes on a hot water bottle instead of my feet if you need.”
Violet started to shake her head no, changed her mind, and nodded. Denny crossed to Violet and kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t carry this on you, little love. None of this is your fault.”
“I can remember the feel of the body. The warmth of his blood. It hadn’t cooled yet.” She clenched her teeth, trying to find her bravery.
Denny nodded. His voice was gentle when he spoke. “There’s no need to fear with Lila near. She’s a dangerous creature, you know.”
Violet laughed a watery noise.
“I expect that you were too tense when you got here, love,” Denny told her. “Then with the nonsense with your stepmother—anyone would have a rough day after that. Only then to meet the sponges. Those men expect to pick you up like their own personal bouillon chest.”
Violet blinked as Denny laid out all the reasons why she was in chaos inside of her mind.
“I mean, Vi.” He seemed almost sympathetic. “I adore Isolde as much as any married man who isn’t her sibling.”
Violet laughed at that, but her laugh was too weak to really sound amused.
“She’s sweet. Sweeter than you. Kind too. Looks up at a guy and is needy. The boys enjoy being needed. You’re a bit too headstrong for most. Can’t imagine it feels good to see your stepmother coo over Isolde and ignore you.”
Violet paused. “It doesn’t,” she admitted quietly. Lila reached out, taking Violet’s hand.
“Your stepmother rejecting Jack is painful. You knew she would, of course; that was why you kept your engagement quiet.”
“Are you always full of insight and thoughtfulness?”
“I’m not an idiot.” Denny grinned over his shoulder at his wife. “I’m lazy, my love. It’s entirely different.”
“To make matters worse,” Violet said to them both, pushing Lila’s feet down and taking the other chair. “We’ve added in a dead body, a bath in blood.”
Even Denny shuddered at that idea. “That’s a lot even for a callous soul like mine.”
Lila sipped her cocktail and glanced at Denny. “You’re not a callous soul, darling. You’re a lazy soul.”
“I can still shudder over that day. I’d have been whimpering in a ball on the floor after Violet’s day. Look at her. She’s only a little down.”
Violet stared at Denny as Lila laughed. “You didn’t think I fell in love with him because of his chubby face? He didn’t even have money when we married.”
“You fell in love with his secret thoughtful side?”
“He wrote me love letters,” Lila told Violet, patting her heart and then winking at her husband.
Violet grinned suddenly, remembering the look on Lila’s face each time one arrived. They’d exchanged them all through their school years even when they were in the same town. The memory of it was enough to push away the remaining horror.
“Who wouldn’t fall in love with love letters?” Violet asked, sniffing. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Once, twice, three times. “You don’t really have to stay.”
“You,” Denny told Violet. “You fell in love because someone finally appreciated your cleverness. Everyone else saw your pretty face and your daddy the earl. All Jack needed to do was note that you were smarter than the average lass.”
Violet laughed again before staring at the board. She crossed to the first name.
MELROSE NELSON—VICTIM.
Both stabbed and poisoned. Was he hated so much that someone needed to be absolutely certain he was dead? Or, perhaps worse, was he a victim twice over?
Lila took in a deep, horrified breath and wrapped an arm around Violet’s waist. “What a terrible crime.”
Violet nodded, staring at the board of names. At the end of the board where no names were listed, she wrote: Who was meeting in the garden, clandestinely? Her gaze flicked over the board and then she wrote: Why was the gin poisoned? Was there a second intended victim? Didn’t Melrose only drink wine?
Violet bit her lip and wrote after Geoffrey’s name: He was playing billiards with the victim. Happenstance or something else?
Violet tucked her hair behind her ear and played with the ring on her finger as she stared at the chalkboard.
The door to her bedroom opened, and Violet looked up to see Jack there, watching her stare at the board. His jaw tightened and that familiar look of worry appeared in his gaze. “Whoever killed Melrose is certainly in this house, Vi.”
She nodded, crossing to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She had been waiting for a hug from him since she’d found the body. “So you want me to stay with you or Victor?”
“I’ll stay with you,” Lila inserted. “I am, as my husband so beautifully described, a dangerous creature.”
Jack laughed and pulled Violet closer. They weren’t a couple for affection in front of others—not more than a kiss on the fingertips, forehead, or possibly wrist. Only having landed on a body, she needed a little more comfort than a kiss on the forehead.
“They are less
inclined to believe it was you,” Jack said. “The assumption was that you stumbled across Melrose and he attacked you. But then where did the poison come from?”
Violet pressed her face into his chest. Where had the poison come from?
“Seems like a bit of overkill,” Denny told Jack, as he added a border around the chalkboard. “Both poisoning a fellow and stabbing them. Perhaps we should be looking for the person who was the most excessive.”
Violet breathed slowly in. She had needed to feel Jack holding her. Was she a cipher now? This weak-willed wallflower who couldn’t function on her own? Her mind immediately rejected the sheer idea. Violet would have carried on without Jack. She would have gotten through the evening and into the next day. She’d have faced the murder investigation as a more serious suspect without him, and she’d still have been all right. With Jack, however, she didn’t have to do those things alone.
Being in love with him didn’t weaken her. Not in the least, but being in love with him gave her a…what was the right term? A help. A support. A partner. All of those things wrapped in one over-sized package.
“Why would someone both get stabbed and poisoned?” Lila asked. She might have sounded more bothered if it were drizzling and her coiffure were at risk.
Violet shook her head against Jack’s chest. She was just going to linger in this warmth.
“That,” Jack said as he rubbed his hand down her back as though she were an infant who needed to be soothed, “is a problem for tomorrow, don’t you think?”
Violet turned in his arms to face her friends. “I think we need to talk to these people.”
The list read:
MELROSE NELSON —VICTIM
LEOPOLD NELSON —BROTHER
LORD DEVONSLY
SIR ROSENS (FATHER)
KYLE ROSENS (BROTHER)
CELIA ROSENS
Denny hadn’t bothered to add any of the names of Violet or her family outside of young Geoffrey. What had he done to irritate the lazy Denny? She, however, added all the names of her family, including her siblings Isolde, Gerald, and her long-time friend Tomas. She didn’t believe for a second that any of them had killed Melrose Nelson, but she thought they needed to know where they were and what they were doing at the time of the crime. Her stepmother, Lady Eleanor, Violet wrote with a flourish and added the shape of a small heart after her name.
Denny chuckled while Lila gathered up the teacups and placed them on the tray. While Violet was gone, Beatrice had straightened the room, leaving only Vi’s nightgown and kimono on the bed. The maid had also taken away sweet Rouge. After her day, Violet would have welcomed a furry little dog to sleep with her. Rouge was about as fierce as a bunny rabbit, but at least her tail would flop and wake Violet if someone entered her room.
“Do you think Tomas or Isolde were involved with the murder?” Denny seemed to like the idea.
“No.” Violet placed the chalk down. “I’m going to have to start traveling with one of these if we keep being so unlucky.”
“I like the chalkboard version better than your journal,” Denny announced. “Perhaps I will purchase one for you for your birthday. Some sort of transportable chalkboard.”
Violet crossed to the board and wrote under Celia’s name: Who was she meeting in the gardens?
“What’s this?” Denny demanded. “In the gardens? A scandalous meeting? How did you not share this delightful news already?”
“Violet learned from the cook,” Jack said. “The servants know everything. A fact that has helped me on more than one investigation.”
“One of your money-grubbing lads was meeting another girl in the gardens and was also here for your money?” Lila arched her brow. “Is this Celia without pride? Is the fortune hunter a complete idiot? Surely they didn’t expect to cheat on you in your own house?”
“I believe Celia seemed—” Vi glanced at Jack. How would she convey the tone? She was about done, Violet thought. Done with the lies. “She was calling him on his machinations. I would assume that she realized he had been manipulating her—whoever it was who was manipulating her. He seemed to believe he could tell her she was wrong and she’d accept it.”
“Lads these days,” Lila muttered. “They always seem to think women are as dumb as they are. I would wager our mothers and grandmothers were well aware of the character of the gents in their lives. They were just trapped in their marriages. The problem for modern lads is we’re not so trapped anymore.”
“If it was young Melrose, maybe the reason he died was the games he was playing with Celia. She has a father and a brother here. Depending on how—ah—far the lad took his manipulations, perhaps there was something worthy of vengeance from the father or the brother.”
Denny shook his head. He really was too happy for a discussion about murder. “Victor would probably commit murder for you, Vi. I don’t know if he would for Isolde. What brother would truly kill for his sister? My vote is for the father.”
“We don’t know it was Melrose in the garden with Celia. I think, however, that Victor is far more protective of Isolde than you realize,” Violet countered.
“So he’d commit murder for her?” Denny’s lips were twitching, and Violet scowled at him.
“Go away,” she told him. “Leave your dangerous creature and get out of my room. When my head stops hurting and I stop reliving stumbling over Melrose’s body, I will educate you in manners.”
Denny was laughing as he left Violet’s room, but it was edging towards well past midnight, and they had traveled that day. She’d have been exhausted even before the emotional runaway carriage ride she’d been on since arriving at her father’s house.
Jack pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry about finding the murder victim, Vi. I’ll make certain Inspector Wright does his job correctly. Don’t worry, my darling.”
Violet nuzzled her face into his chest. “Whyever would I worry when I have you?”
Another kiss on her forehead was her only answer.
Chapter Twelve
“You kick,” Violet said into her pillow without turning her head to face Lila. Dangerous creature was right—the woman’s feet and legs were a punishment when a girl was trying to sleep. “Go back to your spouse and leave my poor legs alone.”
Violet could tell by her exhaustion that it was still quite early. She pushed her face mask back and saw Lila grinning her way. Light was starting to creep through the curtains in front of the French doors, but it was dim enough that Violet was certain it was still quite early. Lila was on the other side of the bed, but the wild woman slept at an angle. Violet vaguely remembered Lila patting Vi’s back when she woke up to bad dreams, but she remembered far more clearly the feel of Lila’s lashing feet.
“It’s cold,” Lila told Violet. “I don’t want to get up yet.”
“It’s early too,” Vi added, flopping back onto her pillows. Her gaze flit around the bedroom, landing on the door to the balcony, the chalkboard with the names, the closed armoire with Violet’s perfectly placed dresses. She curled onto her side, glancing at Lila, and said, “No more kicking and I won’t throw you out.”
Lila grinned. “Denny wraps his arms and leg around me and holds me down.”
“Sounds suffocating.”
“His legs were covered in bruises for a while before he decided upon the smothering me route,” Lila laughed. She pressed her face into the pillow and then a rare serious expression crossed her face. “Do you sleep like this often? You cry in your sleep.”
Violet pressed her lips together. “Too often. It’s been happening since Jeremiah Allen. For a while there, I couldn’t close my eyes without picturing him in the water. He was so young; he looked up to Jack so. My dreams have changed, so it isn’t Jeremiah looking up to Jack, it’s our own son. Who then dies.”
“My beloved friend,” Lila said with a wince. She reached out and took Violet’s hand. “That’s horrible. Invite Jack to your bed, marry him if you don’t want to invite him before the big da
y, sleep with a light on, use some of that lavender bath oil and take a bath before you go to bed every night, but you must do something. You have dark circles under your eyes. You didn’t recover from finding that body as you have in the past. You’re—”
Violet closed her eyes. She was so tired.
“You were crying in your sleep,” Lila told Violet. “I was…well…you know I prefer to detach from most things, but I think you need help. I don’t know what you need. Vi—it’s like you’re experiencing a lesser case of shell shock. What worked for Tomas? Maybe you need to go for walks like he did and focus on the good things and…write it all out?”
Violet didn’t disagree. She might have fallen in love since she’d first met Jack Wakefield, but she’d also lost her near-mother, seen too many bodies, and been physically attacked. The time since meeting him to the current day had been difficult to say the least. Violet knew when the dreams didn’t stop, she needed to do something. She just had no idea of what to do. And here she was again, facing another murder investigation.
Violet closed her eyes. She wanted to go back to sleep, but the dreams were hovering. Instead she made her way to her bath. Hearing Lila’s counsel replay through her mind, Violet filled the bath with lavender oil and salts. She slowly sank into the water and reached towards her toes. She stretched until the knots from restless sleep faded in the heat of the water. Slowly, she scrubbed her body, trying to focus on all the things that were good in her life.
Jack. Isolde’s return. The light in Isolde’s gaze. Tomas finding happiness. The love in Victor’s eyes when he looked at Kate. How very much Violet liked Kate. Vi had long carried the secret worry that Victor would eventually fall for a woman that Violet couldn’t abide. She should have known better. She thought about the way the wind fell on her face when she and Jack walked in the gardens. The taste of chocolate melting in her mouth. The bitter, dark flavour of Turkish coffee. The way Beatrice’s gaze had lit up when Violet had offered to train her to be an assistant instead of a maid.
