by Beth Byers
“Are you all right?” Isolde asked. “I heard that you found the body.”
Violet nodded. “Where were you when it happened?”
“Geoffrey, Gerald, and I went to play billiards,” Tomas said. “Someone told your stepmother that Isolde was afraid of marrying me, so Isolde was dragged to a certain boudoir for a scold.”
Violet laughed, patting Tomas on the cheek. “Who would do such a thing?”
“You would.” Isolde tugged Tomas to the side and took Violet’s hand.
Violet frowned. “So you were with Mama dearest. You boys were together. Other than Father, you have alibis. That’s good. Has the good inspector asked you about things yet?”
Isolde and Tomas both nodded. “He was quite accusatory. Tomas yelled at the inspector.”
Violet laughed, but it was more what was expected than how she truly felt. There was a part of her who was glad to know that the inspector was accusatory with everyone. If it were just her, she’d have significantly more to worry over. Violet’s eyes filled with tears, and she hugged Isolde.
“I love you, Isolde. I’m glad you are back. Stay close to Tomas.”
“Vi!” Isolde said as Violet started to hurry away. “What are you going to do?”
“Do?” Violet grinned back over her shoulder and shrugged.
“Be careful, Violet!”
She hurried down the servant’s staircase to avoid the guests. None of them would know their way through the back stairs. The constables might have a servant to help them through the house, but the guests wouldn’t.
Vi went through the kitchens and stopped to talk to Cook.
“Tell me straight,” Violet said. “Who was Celia walking out with?”
Cook didn’t answer, and Violet sighed. “I think you can do better than asking me like this.”
“Are you trying to get a bribe?”
“Get out of here, girls,” Cook said to the maids. “Lady Vi and I are going to have a chat.”
Violet grinned as the maids scattered. They had been peeling potatoes and forming bread, but they left without even looking back. Violet picked up the knife, tossed it, and then caught it.
“You remember how to do that?”
“You didn’t let me hide in the kitchens unless I learned to peel potatoes.”
“Being a lady doesn’t make you useless when I’m around.”
Violet laughed as she worked the peel off of the potato. There was something so soothing about the slow pull of the knife against the vegetable. She did love a good roasted potato. Salt, pepper, onions. It would be lovely with a roasted chicken, perhaps some parsnips and carrots. Given how loaded her stomach was from breakfast, Violet wasn’t quite sure why she was thinking so longingly of a roasted dinner.
“Who has Celia Rosens been walking with in the garden?”
“Did I miss how you followed her out one day?”
“I was eavesdropping then, not trying to solve a murder!”
Cook laughed. She kept stirring the pot on the stove.
“Fine! What do you want?”
“A holiday.”
Violet tilted her head.
“You’re rich now, Violet, and I’m tired.”
Violet frowned. Cook had aged in the years since she’d taught Violet to peel the potatoes. Her eyes were heavily lined around the corners with laughter marks. Her skin was a little yellower than usual. Violet frowned, realizing that the sass had hidden a slowness.
“I want Jones to go as well. I think I’m sick, Lady Vi. I want to see a blue ocean and feel the sun on my face and spend an entire day just sitting next to the sea in a rocking chair.”
“I would have done that for you regardless, Helena. I inherited a house on the Amalfi coast. It’s lovely there. Warm. The sea is beautiful. Or Cuba? Victor and I really enjoyed Cuba.”
“As long as the ocean is blue and the air is warm.”
“I would have given you a trip without your information,” Violet said gently.
“I know. You always were kind. It makes me feel better, though, to exchange something with you.”
Violet nodded. “What can you tell me?”
“Celia Rosens walked out with all of them. Her father and her brother knew.”
“All of them?”
Cook nodded. “Devonsly and both brothers. You know who else knew? Geoffrey. That boy lurks in the shadows and watches everything.”
Violet shivered. Her brother needed to be removed from his mother’s influence. She wasn’t sure that doing something like that, however, was a forgivable offense.
“Who do you think killed Melrose?”
Cook shrugged. “I only make the food, Lady Vi.”
“You hear every piece of gossip to come through this house.”
Cook grinned. “That I do.”
“What do the servants think?”
“They don’t mind Kyle Rosens or Lord Devonsly.”
Violet laughed. She had barely talked to Kyle Rosens, and though he’d come for her money, she didn’t doubt the servants. She could understand needing money. Of course, when she had needed it more desperately, she’d picked up her pen and started writing novels. The kind that sold for next to nothing, but her portion added up to silk stockings and eggs.
She stretched her neck.
“Do you think that Celia is the type of girl to stab someone with an ice pick?”
“All I can say for sure,” Cook replied with a grin, “is that you could.”
Violet gasped, but when she finished peeling the potatoes, she took the tea that Cook offered and leaned back to sip.
“You aren’t offended?”
Violet shook her head. “I wouldn’t hurt someone for money or for anything like that. I think that’s the question. I don’t have any reason to have hurt Melrose Nelson. You can ask me, you, Isolde. Any of us—we don’t have a motive to have killed the man. So who does?”
“That girl Celia. Her family. Possibly her brother. Perhaps even Lord Devonsly, depending on how he felt about her.”
Violet nodded and reached out, taking Cook’s hand. “Give your notice, take the chance at the Amalfi coast. You and Mrs. Jones have enough to see you through your illness there.”
“I don’t think I’ll be getting better, Lady Vi. Jones doesn’t have enough savings, even with mine, to survive through her old age.”
Violet nodded at the unspoken plea. “You don’t know what life will bring for you, or how long you’ll survive if you’re not working from dawn past dusk. Either way, Mrs. Jones will be fine.”
“It’s so much easier to ask for help for others rather than ourselves. Violet, I see the dark circles under your eyes.”
“It’s hard being here,” Violet admitted. “It’s hard after the last few years. Aunt Agatha. The poor souls who’ve died. My memories chase me through my dreams, and they’re never kind. I spend so many nights unable to sleep. I can’t help but look at myself and think about how weak I am. All around us are lads who saw so much worse in the trenches, fighting to keep people like me safe. I can’t even—”
Cook shook her head. “Their suffering doesn’t negate yours, Lady Vi.”
“I see dead eyes when I close mine. Dead eyes staring at nothing.”
“We all die, Lady Violet. They died earlier than they wanted. It’s a burden I have been thinking a lot about. Don’t spend so much of your life suffering for the dead that you forget to live.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Go find that man of yours and tell him.”
Violet shook her head. “He is so much stronger than I am. I don’t want him to think I’m weak.”
“Burdens are so much easier when they’re shared. I can assure you that no honorable man wants to watch his love suffer. Cherish that man of yours by letting him help you.”
Violet set down her teacup and stood. She pressed a kiss to Cook’s cheek. “I think you’ll like the Amalfi coast.”
“Is the water blue?”
Vi nodd
ed.
“Is the air warm?”
Vi nodded.
“Jones will be there?”
Vi nodded.
“Then it sounds like heaven.”
“A little piece of it anyway,” Violet told her.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Cook replied. Violet squeezed her hand lightly and left. She had to fight back tears as she hurried up the servant staircase to the wing where she and her friends had been isolated. Without Mrs. Jones and Cook, the house would lose much of its appeal.
Chapter Sixteen
The servant staircase was the most effective way to move through houses like the earl’s. It was intended to get the person from the starting point to their end point with little fuss. There would be no strolling down these stairs, hand on the railing, while a ball gown floated around a spoiled daughter. Therefore, one could do things like pulling a skirt up a little higher to dart up the stairs.
Tears were burning at the back of Violet’s eyes, and she was very much afraid that the kindness she’d just extended to Cook would end as Cook expected—with the final days of her life.
Violet stepped out of the hallway near her bedroom and stopped in her tracks. If it wasn’t Theodophilus Smythe-Hill and if he didn’t have his hands on Beatrice.
Violet’s hands clenched into fists, and she marched down the hallway, ignoring the lush carpets, the portraits of ancestors of previous generations intermixed with pieces of art from grandmasters.
“What’s all this?” Violet asked in forced cheer. She took hold of her maid and pulled her free from Theo’s grasping hands. Out of the corner of her eye, Violet saw Beatrice rub above her elbow.
“I made a simple request, and she didn’t comply. You know, I saw her coming out of my bedroom. I wonder if anything is missing.”
“Did you? And then you followed her to this wing? Your bedroom isn’t anywhere near here.” Violet smiled prettily. “Let’s call my father, the earl, shall we? He’ll have her searched. I assume it was just now?”
Theo’s gaze narrowed on Violet. “I’m sure it was nothing. I’ll let you know if something is missing.”
“No, no,” Violet shook her head. “No. She’ll come with me. I’ll search her. We’ll clear this up immediately.”
Theo’s snake-like smile appeared. “Perhaps you should rid yourself of the wench. Good help is so hard to find. Thieves and sneaks—better to not have a maid at all.”
“Lady Violet—”
Vi winked at Beatrice with the eye turned away from Theo, and then cocked her head at the man.
“You’re not housed on this floor.”
“Just a bit lost.”
“Let me help you,” Violet said merrily, though her insides were roiling. “Fortune-hunting, money-grubbers have the smaller rooms towards the back of the house.”
His expression hardened, and he stepped up, taking her shoulders. “Do you think you’re better than me because some idiot slaughtered that old woman you called an aunt? Flattering a stupid, old, unwanted woman into leaving her fortune to you doesn’t make you saint. You stole that money from John Davies and Algie. From your own twin.”
Violet’s mind skipped around with all of her options.
“You let go of Lady Vi.” Beatrice yanked at Theo’s arm but couldn’t get his grip to loosen.
“Or what?” Theo snarled and turned again on Violet. “You think that stepmother of yours will believe you over me? Lady Eleanor has been friends with my mother since before you were born. She is actually fond of me. Unlike you, the unwanted, unnecessary spawn of a wife who couldn’t survive the influenza? Weak. Useless and unwanted. Like mother, like daughter.”
“You know,” Violet said, looking up at Theo. “You really do sound like a snake.” She stepped into him, further elucidating her feelings with a swift, sharp knee to his manhood. Theo choked, grabbing himself and falling to his knees.
“Bravo!” Victor called. “Bravo, Vi. Perfectly executed. Jack will be so proud.”
Violet shot her brother a quelling look. Had he been watching the show? She looked down at Theo and realized she was rather glad Victor had let her get her revenge. She was much less afraid of him now, groaning on the floor, than she had been that morning. She reached out blindly for Beatrice and said to Victor, “I’ll leave this mess to you. I find I am not opposed to further violence.”
Violet glanced beyond Victor to Kate, noting the dark circles under her eyes. “Are you all right, love?”
“Tip-top,” Kate lied, looking at anything but Violet.
Vi frowned. “Come, Beatrice. I believe my brother left something fortifying in my bedroom after last night. Let’s share a cup, shall we, and relive the conquest of the villain.”
The maid followed blindly, her gaze still fixed on Theo as though she couldn’t quite believe they had freed themselves. Theo, however, was eyeing Victor with a combination of fear and disdain. Oh how she hated this man, but she did adore that look on his face. “Do call Jack this time, Victor. Perhaps a little bonding over bloody knuckles will be good in the long term.”
Victor grinned as Theo paled even further—a sight that pleased her to no end.
Violet was sipping her small glass while she stared at the chalkboard. Poor Beatrice had cried once Violet pushed her into a chair and handed her a glass of whisky.
Victor really did love slopping it into tea whenever Violet looked as though she might cry. She grinned at the memories of him thrusting a cup of tea at her and begging her to drink, not cry. It never did work. Her poor twin.
Violet’s thoughts tripped back to the last time she’d seen Theo at the nightclub. He truly was a fool. It wasn’t as though Victor hadn’t told Theo to stay away from Violet, yet he’d appeared at their home. Did he truly believe that Lady Eleanor had so much power over the twins? The best that Violet could hope for as far as Theo’s brain capacity was that he hoped to slide into Isolde’s affections.
Violet was afraid, however, that the truth was far more. That he thought he could tell her that she didn’t understand what had happened last time he’d caught her alone. Maybe, rather like the Nelson brother, Theo assumed that Violet would forgive and forget. Especially with Lady Eleanor taking his part.
It didn’t say much for Theo’s capacity to understand women, but it wouldn’t be a surprising revelation either. Violet had very, very little respect for the average man and his capacity to understand women. Perhaps also, Violet thought, she had very little respect for too many women who were still allowing themselves to be controlled and trapped by the expectation men put on them. Men or stepmothers.
She stared at her glass, wishing for a moment that it was ginger wine and then shuddering as the memories of ginger wine returned.
“My lady, I feel quite lazy.”
“My dear Beatrice,” Violet countered. “I fully expect you to take the rest of the day off. In fact, why don’t you take Lila’s maid and go to the kitchens. You can send Lila’s girl up with a large tea tray for our chalkboard work. The two of you can gather up Jack and our friends and then return to the kitchens. Mrs. Jones and Cook need information about traveling to the Amalfi Coast.”
Beatrice nodded, setting down the whisky glass with a look of distaste, and hurried towards the door. She seemed relieved to have something to do. It was a feeling Violet could understand. Her own bad memories seemed to get her when she was least expecting it, but it always helped if she had something to keep her focus.
Speaking of things to keep her focus, Violet looked at the list of names on the board. She considered Melrose Nelson. Her own experience with him was limited indeed. She needed…perhaps she needed her little brother. She blinked rapidly at the idea. Cook had said he was an unrepentant wart who spied on everyone. Just what did he know?
Her mouth twisted, and she sent for her brother. As she waited for everyone to appear, Violet adjusted the board to her liking and arranged the chairs so that they were bordering the bed. She then updated the board:
&
nbsp; 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?
The Nelson brothers played a points-system game with each other that manipulated the people in their lives. Celia Rosens was one of the victims. Was anyone else in the house affected by their behavior? Surely that was a reason to murder someone, but who was driven that far?
LEOPOLD NELSON —BROTHER
Leopold is a snake, as is his brother. Either of them could have been murdered for the same reasons. Perhaps Melrose drove his brother to the edge of murder first?
LORD DEVONSLY
Seemed to believe that Carlyles wouldn’t need to murder anyone. Did that extend to himself? He is also aristocratic.
Walked out with Celia. Perhaps he was in love? Perhaps he heard her story and was driven to murder?
SIR ROSENS—FATHER
His daughter was romanced and heartbroken by Melrose Nelson. Did vengeance come into play? If so, is Leopold next?
KYLE ROSENS—BROTHER
Would this brother kill for his sister?
CELIA ROSENS
Melrose had been walking with Celia in the gardens. But so had Lord Devonsly and Leopold. Could jealousy have driven someone to kill Melrose? Celia had been manipulated by the brothers. Perhaps she’d had enough? Perhaps she thought that Leopold wouldn’t return unless Melrose was dead?
Violet cleared her throat as she examined the board. She erased the names of her family. Most of them had alibis and none of them had a motive. She stepped away from the board.
“I had heard,” Denny started, but Violet gasped and whirled. She grabbed her stomach and stared. Somehow while Vi had been making notes, her friends had arrived with Father and Geoffrey, and everyone had seated themselves.
“You are tired,” Lila said. “I thought you were focused and didn’t want to interrupt your thoughts with greetings, but Vi, love, you must rest.”
