Wedding Vows & Murder

by Beth Byers

  “We could,” Beatrice suggested as she came back into the room, “dress the constable in the kitchens in a uniform and have him outside the room with the door open. Even if she sees him, it’ll seem like he’s just doing his work.”

  “Ply Gertrude with cocktails, Denny. Those chocolate ones. Tell her they’re a special drink you make for Kate’s little siblings. You can’t really taste the alcohol in them. Let’s loosen her tongue.”

  Denny nodded and crossed to the bar in the parlor, making up the drink with a heavy hand while Violet stared at the chalkboards, hands shaking. This had to work. It simply had to.

  “We told her that we had to stay with you,” Algie murmured to Violet as they took their seats in the second parlor. “That you were too fragile to leave alone. All hands on deck. Look weak, darling Vi.”

  Violet nodded. She felt rather weak, and the glimpse she’d caught of herself in the mirror proclaimed just the theme they were looking for. Violet had great canyons under her eyes, only the merest remnants of lipstick on the edges of her lips, and her dress had chalk dust that left her rather grubby.

  “Violet,” Lila said, handing her a glass of ginger wine. “Here you go, love. Drink up and you’ll feel better.”

  Lila and Kate hadn’t had a chance to leave the parlor with Gertrude, so they didn’t know what was happening. It seemed that Lila, however, had caught enough of the gist to guess that Gertrude was their target. If Lila had caught on, certainly Kate had as well.

  Violet sipped the ginger wine while Denny lied to Gertrude about the contents of the chocolate drink he was offering her. He did it in such a charming way she couldn’t really refuse. Hopefully, she didn’t just set it aside.

  Miss Allen must have been ready when Victor arrived, because they were back before Violet had finished mopping up stray tears. She was getting a lot of, ‘You poor dear’ and ‘Chin up, old girl’ from the others. Violet sipped slowly, making every conversation awkward just to watch Gertrude shift.

  When Victor arrived with Miss Allen, Gertrude’s gaze widened in shock. Rita didn’t return, but Violet assumed she was hiding with Ham instead. Violet watched Gertrude while everyone else turned to the new arrivals. Once the initial shock was over, Gertrude’s gaze narrowed on Miss Allen.

  “I’m sorry,” Gertrude said, “I wasn’t aware that you were friends.”

  “Do you know Em?” Violet asked, holding out her hand to Miss Allen as though they were old friends.

  “I just…well…I thought that she was once engaged to your Jack, Violet.”

  Emily laughed merrily. “Children’s hijinks. I threw him over when I realized I hadn’t seen a bit of the world and wasn’t ready to be the old ball and chain.”

  “Interesting,” Gertrude said.

  “You know what I think is interesting?” Emily asked brightly. “How you can sit with Jack’s beloved and smile so prettily after pinning a murder on him.”

  Violet blinked in shock that Emily came out with it just like that.

  “You’re the American that Theo was sleeping with, of course. He told me about his uptight heiress who’d gone wild escaping her parents.”

  Gertrude blushed.

  “Don’t worry, darling,” Emily said. “The private detectives working for Jack are already tracking down the servants at the hotel where you met Theo. He always sent the same cabbie for you, didn’t he? He didn’t care about those little details, but they do bite one in the end.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gertrude glanced around, looking for support and finding none.

  “I’ve spoken with their John Smith myself. He’s yummy,” Miss Allen said. “I told him the names of all the lovers, but Theo called you Trudy, didn’t he?”

  Oh, Violet thought, oh! Gertrude had gone from red and furious to a little sickly. Violet bit down hard on her abused lip and clenched her bruised fists as Gertrude said, “Even if I was having a liaison, you can’t believe that I killed Theo.”

  “Of course we can,” Emily laughed merrily. “We’re all ladies here. Trapped by your parents, you found a stooge to marry and get your inheritance. I understand, I do. All of us girls do. We talk about modern times and our freedoms, but we’re not really free. Not when someone else holds the purse strings.”

  “You are speaking lies and nonsense,” Gertrude hissed. She started to stand, but Emily rose first and shoved her back down and leaned over her.

  “I saw you leave the ballroom. I saw you pretend to walk to the ladies and go into Jack’s office. It’s not that much farther, is it? I knew you were sleeping with Theo. I wondered if you intended to have an assignation with him. Jack is one of the few men I trust and respect, Miss Campbell. I wasn’t going to let you get away with something like that, but you left out the side door. I noticed your arm stiff at your side where you were hiding the knife, but I assumed you were meeting Theo in the gardens. You did, of course. With a knife in your hand and that arrogant fool too certain of himself to realize that a woman could kill him as easily as a man.”

  “You lie.”

  “The evidence is stacking against you,” Miss Allen said. “You were in the office. Jack would have had to come back inside to get the knife. The jury will hear about how Jack wouldn’t have needed to come back for a knife. He’s deadly, you know, with just his hands.” Miss Allen scrunched her nose and laughed. “They’ll hear about how you took a war hero and tried to set him up to cover for your salacious past, and they’ll hang you.”

  “Our cousin ended up in asylum with a good solicitor and a sad story. That won’t happen to you,” Algie said gently, “if you try to ruin Jack first.”

  “I’m not confessing.” Gertrude laughed but it was an angry, betrayed noise. “You have nothing. Lies from low class servants easily paid to lie. From a whore like Miss Allen. No witnesses. Nothing.”

  “There’s the blood on your dress,” Clara said. “I didn’t want to believe when I saw it.”

  Gertrude jumped at that, her gaze fixed on Clara’s wide, blue eyes. They were convincing, and Gertrude’s fingers twitching at her side conveyed her distress.

  “There’s the blackmail you were paying,” Algie added. “Robbie told me how he was paying for you so he could get more money later. You know how Father Roche watches Robbie so carefully, afraid he’s another Barty. Robbie must have jumped at the chance to have money that Father Roche wasn’t watching.”

  “There’s no blood,” Gertrude hissed. “I had no idea Robbie was paying Theo. Probably to cover for Barty’s indiscretions.”

  “I saw it,” Clara said flatly. “I saw it with my own eyes, and you can’t hide it once the police take it in. You’ll be caught, Gertrude. Confess and ask for mercy.”

  “The knife was used with a handkerchief,” Violet told Gertrude. “Jack’s prints were still there, but the killer’s were smudged. It will be enough to get Jack off. That mistake alone will free Jack. He’ll be free and you’ll be taken in, and they’ll hang you. I’ve written a book, you know, about what it feels like to be hanged. I researched it from the few survivors. Strangling is a terrible way to go. Don’t think I won’t bribe the guard to make sure your neck doesn’t break.”

  Gertrude gasped at Violet’s statement, with her hand to her throat.

  “Plus,” Denny added. “London loves Jack. There was an article just yesterday about how he not only found the murderer of a young mother, he ensured her children were adopted into a good home. You’re a fool if you don’t confess.”

  “I won’t be bullied into confessing,” Gertrude hissed. Her gaze was narrowed, and Violet felt a rush of panic. They might get Jack off, but they needed that confession for Violet’s wedding to take place the next day.

  “Please.” Miss Allen laughed again. “Theo told me everything.”

  Gertrude paled. “Why should I believe you? It was your secrets being shouted across the ballroom, not mine.”

  “Theo said those things because he hated Vi. Who can blame him? Be
autiful, rich, never interested in him. He hated her, and he hated you. Despised you. Despised your crass American ways. Your clinginess. He’d have thrown you over if you weren’t getting him those cheques.”

  “That’s not true,” Gertrude said.

  “Besides,” Miss Allen said, “you aren’t as stupid as his normal victims. You knew he’d be coming for you next.”

  Gertrude said nothing to that.

  “Had he already insinuated that you should treat him better? I’ll bet that he had. The key to having the power over a man like Theo was, of course, to never let him know anything you didn’t want the world to know.”

  “You can’t prove that,” Gertrude said. “This is all unfair.”

  “I’ll testify myself to how he was with women,” Miss Allen said. “I’ll make sure the jury knows how trapped you were, so you won’t be able to pretend it was a light fling. You were caught like a rabbit in a snare, and they’ll know.”

  “Father had you followed on your liaisons,” Clara told Gertrude gently. Clara even reached out and took Gertrude’s hand as if she were comforting her. “Oh sweetie, the facts are all there.”

  “Then why is Jack in Scotland Yard instead of me?” Gertrude hissed triumphantly. “You have nothing.”

  Well damn it, Violet thought.

  Ham walked in then. He glanced around. “Miss Campbell, we need to speak.”

  “Why?” she hissed. “You have a man in custody.”

  Ham laughed. “Miss Campbell, we had a cooperative witness who came in to help us clarify a few things. It was the last that we needed to cement the case on you.”

  “No!” Gertrude said, shoving Miss Allen out of the way. “No, you can’t prove I did anything.”

  “Come, my dear,” Ham said. “Witnessed by servants, a history of payments, blood on your dress, no sign of a struggle around the body. It seems like you have everything perfect in the moment.”

  “There’s no evidence that it was me.”

  “There’s rather a heap of evidence that it was you. There’s no evidence that it was Jack. A few witness statements that Jack had removed Theo from Violet’s presence more than once and never did more than rough him up a bit. Jack has an honorable career both in Scotland Yard and in the military. A knife that didn’t have his prints removed, no sign of a struggle. My dear, we always knew it wasn’t Wakefield. You can be assured that if Wakefield were ever to commit murder, it would be much better executed than your mess. Come now. It won’t be so bad. Violet won’t really be able to bribe the hangman to strangle you instead of breaking your neck.”

  Gertrude’s hand was on her neck again, and she shook her head over and over again. “No! I—No!”

  “Let me give you a little hint, my dear,” Ham said kindly. “If you want to try to show you were insane and try for an asylum, you have to be a little less calculating and a lot more emotional.”

  “You don’t understand,” Gertrude said. “If Barty’s secrets got out, my parents would make me break off the engagement. It wasn’t easy to find someone they didn’t turn away immediately who was also controllable. You don’t know what it’s like to have them watch my every move. It’s not fair!”

  “Just admit to what you did, my dear. Then tell Detective Clarkson pretty lies about how Theo treated you. It’s his job to write them all down even if he doesn’t believe them.”

  Gertrude stared at Ham and finally, slowly caved in on herself. The first tear fell and then the second. With a sly glance at Ham, she moaned, “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to. He was hurting me. He was making me sleep with him. If I didn’t…” Gertrude threw herself at Ham, who glanced down at the woman in his arms in utter disgust and shoved her at the ready constable.

  “You get all that, Peters?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Take her in. I’ll be along.”

  Violet dropped her ginger wine glass, staring at Ham. She hadn’t believed, not until Ham turned to her and met her gaze with triumph.

  “Did we—” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “We did,” Ham agreed. “Jack will be fine now.”

  Violet gasped and found her heart again. It pounded against her chest so hard it was painful. She pressed her hands into her face and found that the dam could break after all. A watery sob, and Victor was scooping her out of her chair and sitting down with her again.

  “There, there,” her twin said in that way that spoke so much more. All the things that there weren’t words to convey.

  Violet pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed. She couldn’t make it stop.

  “There, there,” Victor said again, rubbing her back like she was a child.

  She felt an unfamiliar hand on her head.

  “I’ll have him there, Vi,” Ham promised. “Put on your pretty dress, put flowers in your hair, and find your smiles. That’s all he wants.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I don’t think it would have worked without Clara,” Lila said as she pinned Violet’s veil in place. “You’ll have to send her something amazing for her ready lies. That’s when she started to crack. Denny talked about it all night.”

  Violet didn’t want to think on it. Jack hadn’t made it back the previous night, but Ham had warned Victor that the interviews with Gertrude would all take too long to believe.

  Kate was crying already as she buttoned up the back of Violet’s dress. “Growing a baby makes you weepy, Vi. Prepare yourself.”

  Violet bit down on her lip, thinking of those little spirits that still haunted her. She said nothing, however. Her eyes burned from a night of crying and tossing helplessly, wondering if Jack would come home to her that night. She was pale, her eyes were red-rimmed, her lips were dry from too many tears, but she felt as though she might fly.

  She stared into the mirror when she was finished being dressed. It seemed that the long white dress, the veil, the flowers in her hair, the pearls, all of it somehow hid how she’d fallen to pieces and felt too fragile to move. She pinched herself, but it wasn’t a dream.

  The journey to the church was a blur. The feel of Victor’s hand holding her steady was all that she had until he handed her to her father. Violet felt as though she’d stepped into a dream when she walked into the candlelit, flower-strewn chapel.

  Jack’s back was to her, but she knew those broad shoulders. She hadn’t believed they’d make it this far. For what felt like an eternity, she’d been certain that they’d be—at the very least—late for this moment. Her father had to tug her down the aisle, and Violet passed every onlooker without seeing a single face.

  Finally, Jack turned, and she drank in the sight of him. He looked as tired as she did, but his eyes…those eyes…they were filled with her, and she could see herself in them. Somehow, she shone.

  When her father handed her over to Jack, it was only her beloved’s grip on her hands that kept her from floating with joy. She didn’t hear anything at all until she heard Jack’s name. She snapped back into the moment when the vicar asked, “John Wakefield Junior, will you take Violet Carlyle to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, forsaking all others, and be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

  “I will,” Jack said clearly, and Violet knew that at least one tear had fallen. She suspected it might be a full river of tears.

  The vicar was speaking to her then, but Violet had eyes and ears only for Jack. When it was her turn to answer, Jack had to squeeze her hand. She gasped before she said, “I will” and there were a few low chuckles.

  Things turned back into a blur until Jack pulled her forward and kissed her gently. He pulled away, and then leaned back towards her, kissing her eyes, her forehead, her cheeks before he looked up at the vicar and nodded.

  Tucked into Jack’s side with his arm around her shoulders, Vi breathed him in while their friends cheered, and then they rushed down the aisle. When they reached the doors, Jack said, “I changed the plans.”

  Violet
gasped and he lifted her into his arms and rushed down the steps and into a waiting car. “Go!” he commanded the driver.

  Violet stared at Jack.

  “I thought we’d avoid all the commentary on our last week and the platitudes, and get right to the honeymoon,” Jack explained. “Unless you want to go back?”

  Vi shook her head, still staring at him, and he wrapped his hand around the back of her and pulled her in for a kiss. “I love you, Violet Wakefield.”

  Violet smiled against his lips at the sound of her new name. “I love you, Jack Wakefield.”

  Somehow, between being released from Scotland Yard and the wedding that morning, Jack had arranged a suite at the Hotel Saffron. He took her inside, bypassing everyone but the elevator attendant, who grinned at Violet in her finery and selected the floor without being told.

  Jack tugged Violet down the hall. He turned as they entered the suite and backed her against the door as it closed.

  She looked up at him through her lashes. “Did we really make it this far, or is it all a dream?”

  “We’re here. You saved me.”

  “I suppose I owed you one, but you can be my knight-in-distress,” Violet told him, grinning wickedly and feeling a rush of joy followed by a rush of nervousness.

  Slowly Jack lifted her hand to his face and kissed her on the palm. He followed with a kiss on each one of her fingertips. Then her forehead. Each cheek and finally her lips. He brought her to a haze of need and—like always—made her feel loved and protected through every moment. As he finally lifted her into his arms, he whispered to her, “This is when the happily ever after starts, my love.”

  The End

  Hullo, my friends, I have so much gratitude for you reading my books. Almost as wonderful as giving me a chance are reviews, and indie folks, like myself, need them desperately! If you wouldn’t mind, I would be so grateful for a review.

  The sequel to this book, A Jazzy Little Murder, is available for preorder now.