Murder at the Folly Read online

  “Odd,” the Italian woman purred. “I’ve never heard him talk of you. I am Bettina Marino. No doubt you’ve heard him speak of me.”

  Violet smirked as she set her glass down on a tray and took a new one. “If you haven’t heard of Vi and Vic, you must not know Tomas very well. Lovely to meet you, Bettina.” Vi leaned in and whispered, “Oh dear. I fear your beauty mark has smeared.” In a louder voice, Violet added, “Tomas, you must meet Isolde. She’s all grown up. I must warn you, Lady Eleanor has decided you’re rich enough for Isolde.”

  Tomas laughed. He was a bit serious when he added, “You know my feelings on the matter.”

  “Mmmm.” She did indeed and knew that he’d hunted her down to once again throw his heart at her feet.

  Violet and Tomas moved through the crowd and found Gerald and Isolde. The house was lit dimly with waiters carrying trays of drinks and a Jazz musician singing to the side.

  “Tomas, really? A band? Where did all of these people come from?”

  “Some are traveling with me,” he said with a flush to his cheeks. “Some the others met in the last few days. I was a bit under the weather, I’m afraid, before I was able to look up you and Vic and send a note round.”

  Violet smiled up at him, ignoring the heat in his gaze. There was too much going unsaid between them. Under the weather meant he’d descended into the memories again. She wished she could tell him it would be all right. She wasn’t sure it would be.

  The first time she’d seen him descend into the memories, he’d been curled up in the corner of his bedroom, wild-haired and wild-eyed, rocking back and forth and seeing things again and again that he should never have seen or experienced the first time.

  If that weren’t enough baggage between them, there had been how she’d sat down next to him, rubbed his back, and talked to him until he’d come back to himself and looked at her as his personal savior. She and Victor had stayed with Tomas for weeks while he’d pulled out of the memories and learned to apply a few techniques that seemed to work for him. Walks alone when the visions started, focusing on other memories. Pushing out the bad with other ones. Good ones. The two of them had picked some out together when she’d realized that talking about their childhood grounded him more than anything else.

  She knew when her attempts at help had given him a measure of solace that the history of proposals between them would not stop. They had started half in jest when she’d turned ten-years-old. She wished there was a way to comfort him, to be able to kneel by his side and talk of swimming or running through the woods without having to offer him the rest of her. What he needed, she thought, was new memories with another woman. Someone else who could whisper of the first time they’d realized they were in love, or their first kiss, or their wedding day. Someone who wasn’t Violet Car Newstone.

  She wasn’t convinced he loved her as he said he did. He loved her, certainly. But she felt sure he loved her as Tomas loved Victor. Tomas just wasn’t capable of realizing that you could love a woman without being in love with her. He knew he loved her, he knew that she wasn’t his sister, therefore she must be his wife. She’d make him miserable in the end.

  An outcome he didn’t see. Tomas needed someone sweet, someone who wanted to be the center of his world. Someone who wouldn’t mind spending weeks on end in the country for the quiet. Someone who wanted to be his other half, to bear his children, to live for him. That wasn’t Violet. Not for Tomas anyway.

  She squeezed his arm. “It’s too loud for you now, Tomas. Are you having a bad day?”

  “They’re rarer and rarer, Vi. But I did have bad dreams last night. I’m afraid they’ve chased me into today. No matter.” He gave her the ‘all is jolly-good’ look, which she knew to be pure drivel.

  She squeezed his arm again as they bypassed a couple who were dancing as though they had been born with a song in their hearts. Vi paused long enough to watch them, and the man lifted the woman, spinning her.

  “That is Juliette and François Boutet. They are a brother and sister team of dancers. They…well, somehow I’ve become saddled with them. They are lovely to watch, though, aren’t they?”

  Violet lifted a brow as she faced him, ignoring the rest of his explanation. They had, no doubt, found their way into Tomas’ pocket. They looked rather different and Violet would have doubted the claim they were siblings if she and Gerald didn’t look like strangers as well. Oh Tomas and his hangers-on, the poor fool. “And Bettina Marino?” Violet purred the name the way the woman had.

  Tomas’ flush deepened and he stuttered without really speaking.

  “Tomas,” Violet told him seriously, “I am not your mother.”

  “Oh, I know that too well, darling. It’s not like that, but Bettina would like it to be.”

  They had finally reached Gerald and Isolde in the corner. Two gentlemen were standing in front of them, and Vi couldn’t see who they were until Tomas said, “Algie, look who I’ve found.”

  Violet froze as Algernon turned and with him, Theodophilus Smythe-Hill. A flash of his hands digging into her shoulders, of him pulling her hair too-hard, of the demand that he wanted her and what she desired was of little consequence. She remembered in an undesired rush the feeling of helplessness, of the realization of how much weaker she was than Theodophilus when he manhandled her.

  “Lady Violet Car Newstone.” Theodophilus’ sneer mocked her reaction as though she had been the one in the wrong.

  Violet froze in the face of his mean eyes and too-strong hands. She tried to shake the ghost of him touching her, but she couldn’t quite do it. Her gaze darted to Algie, who flushed and to Gerald who looked on, concerned. Her brother knew something was wrong with Violet, but she’d never spoken of what happened beyond the initial report to Victor.

  She knew she was safe, and yet seeing him made her feel very unsafe indeed.

  “Vi, are you all right?” Isolde asked, her gaze flicking over her older sister and a rare flash of protectiveness coming from the younger sister.

  A moment later, Victor pulled her from Tomas from behind. Her twin came out of nowhere, somehow knowing she needed him. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he asked Theo silkily, “Did we need to have a repeat of our previous conversation, Theo?”

  The undisguised threat in Victor’s voice had both Gerald and Tomas turning in consternation to the twins. Most only knew Victor as a jolly spaniel—the veneer he wore over his inner lion.

  Violet flushed as Theo shrugged, lips twitching. “Are you the king of Bruges then? You think you can control wherever I go?”

  Violet realized she was trembling, which pushed Victor into an effervescent rage. Her twin nudged her towards Tomas and then took Theo by the lapels, slamming him into the wall. “I have told you to stay away from my sister.”

  “I’m supposed to avoid every party she attends?” Theo’s sneer belied what he’d done to her and Victor pulled Theo away from the wall to slam him back into it.

  “Yes,” Victor growled. “Yes. You avoid her. She arrives, you leave. You don’t speak to her. You don’t look at her. You don’t breathe the air she breaths or by Jove, you won’t need to breathe.”

  “Tomas,” Theo appealed, glancing at the host of the party.

  Gerald took a slow sip of his bourbon and declared, “I wouldn’t have thought of you like this, little brother.” The insinuation was pride, not consternation.

  “Why does he need to stay away from you?” Tomas asked Violet, his gaze searching hers. He knew her well enough to see the upset despite her solemn face.

  Violet shook her head. Her trembling aside, she couldn’t allow Tomas the role of protector. She couldn’t let him step in. She couldn’t let him want or act in that role—not if she was going to convince him to find the woman he needed.

  “Vi?” Tomas almost begged.

  She shook her head again and set down her drink, turning to Isolde. “Come with me.”

  Violet held out a hand to Isolde, who left Gerald and tucked her arm through Vi’s. The sight of Vi’s shaking hand had Victor pulling Theo from the wall and hauling him towards the front door to throw him out.

  Violet pulled Isolde into the water closet and leaned back against the wall. She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly and then took in another and another.

  Isolde, bless her, took Vi’s hand without saying a word and didn’t let go. Vi counted each breath, in long and slow, out even slower. One, two, three. She hadn’t expected to see Theo again. Four, five, six. She hadn’t expected to have to face him.

  Seven. Bloody hell. Eight. A shaky breath that nearly ended in tears. Violet had thought that Victor had gotten rid of Theo. That Victor had scared Theo enough. A shaky, shaky breath. Nine.

  Seeing him again was more than she had thought it would be. She had thought she’d moved on, but the memory was almost worse than the initial assault. In the moment, she’d been focused. Now she felt like an idiot. She knew it hadn’t been as bad for her as it was for others. She knew she had been lucky. And yet, she could still feel the ghost of his fingers pressing into her shoulders and the horror of what had happened all at once.

  It took her a few minutes to stand upright again. Isolde’s eyes were fixed on Violet, but neither of the sisters said a word as Violet reeled her reactions in and placed them in a box. Both had been manhandled. Both had experienced the realization that should the struggle happen—they’d lose. Neither of them needed to discuss what happened. Violet ran cool water over the back of her hands until she stopped shaking and then powdered her nose, freshening her lipstick and said with a bright smile, “I think a G&T is just the thing.”

  Chapter 3

  “I thought we might walk,” Tomas said. “Though if you wish…”

  “I’d love to walk,” Violet replied. She was wearing a black dress that floated around her knees. It had accents of white at the shoulders, a tie at the neck and around her waist, making her waist seem lower than it was. The whole effect lengthened Violet into a slim stretch of femininity. She wouldn’t wear gloves with a friend like Tomas. The seams rubbing along the sides of her fingers drove her mad, and she didn’t need to stand on ceremony with a man she’d once been a grubby urchin with.

  It was a fine enough day that she wouldn’t need her knitted wool cape, but she took her hat and pinned it into place before turning to Tomas with a bright smile. Victor watched it all from the doorway of the library. He had said nothing when she’d returned to the party the previous evening, but she’d noted his bruised knuckles. The lion in her brother had come out once again, and Vi regretted her weakness being the cause of it.

  He hadn’t stopped watching her carefully, and Violet knew if anyone else were taking her out, Victor would have found a reason to accompany them. Even Gerald, Violet thought. She gave Victor a smile and a wink, but his expression said he didn’t believe it. He shouldn’t. It was as much of a lie as the grin she tossed Tomas.

  She knew it wasn’t her fault that she was weaker than Theo, but she wished she had the strength to give him the pounding he deserved rather than having to leave it to Vic. At least with Victor, it was almost as if she’d done it herself.

  “Be safe now.” Victor knew what was coming as well as Violet, so the commiserating glance that followed was just for Violet.

  The rooms the siblings had rented were on the canals as well. Tomas and Violet would be able to wind through the old city, arm in arm, talking of the old days while Tomas geared up to ask Violet to marry him once again.

  They could see the bell tower and were aimed towards the Church of Our Lady as they walked along the canals whenever the route allowed it. The woven bricks of the road as they made their way towards the church were astoundingly lovely. Bruges may have just been the most beautiful city that Violet had ever seen.

  “I’ve missed you,” Tomas said. There was a bit of weight in his voice.

  “And I rather missed you,” Violet said brightly. Her hand was on the crook of his elbow, and he kept her tight to him, so they were brushing against each other as they walked.

  “Life isn’t what we’d thought it would be, is it?” He sounded solemn as they took in the beauty, the sun reflecting off of the water, the details of gorgeous stone mason work in the city.

  Violet laughed merrily. “We were clever children, but stupid all the same. I believe we intended to have endless jam tarts, always get up with the sunrise, and never nap again. I took a nap just yesterday, and it was delightful.”

  “Oh look,” Tomas said, pointing to a little chocolate shop. “Remember how we used to filch chocolates from your aunt?”

  Vi nodded, suddenly missing Aunt Agatha fiercely. The loss had gone from nearly unthought of to deep and abiding in a breath, and Violet’s gaze glistened with the pain of it. By the heavens, how Violet wished she could curl up in her aunt’s lap and tell her all that had happened. Those last days had been tinged by suspicion and worry. And when Aunt Agatha’s life had been stolen, they didn’t get their final goodbyes. It wasn’t fair, and on occasion, Violet felt her body couldn’t contain the combination of grief and fury. Little, however, about life was fair.

  “Let’s get some, shall we?”

  Violet and Tomas walked into the little shop and a few minutes later left with rather more chocolates than even their younger selves would have been able to eat. Tomas took a bite of one and handed her the rest. There was something so intimate in the sharing of the same sweet, she paused before she took it.

  Moments like these, moments when she needed to replace her companion with Jack, had been teaching her that what she felt, irrational as it was, was love.

  Tomas looked at her through those thick lashes she’d envied since her youngest days and the smile he gave her went right through her since it was pain-filled enough to stagger a lesser man.

  “I’m haunted, Vi.”

  She nodded. She knew the feeling. She could only imagine what it felt like for it to be more than brothers or an aunt that crept into her thoughts. For Tomas, it was scores of brothers. Faces blown to bits before him. The sounds of those last, rattling breaths. She squeezed his arm since there was nothing to be said.

  “Everywhere I go is gray and dark. I hear the screams. I…”

  Violet didn’t tell him it would be ok. He didn’t need to be condescended to, and she wasn’t a person who lied because it was easy.

  “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” he asked after several minutes trying to shake off the ghosts. He tilted the bag of chocolates towards her.

  Violet took one. She wasn’t quite capable of speaking at that moment, so she bit into the gold-dusted creation instead.

  “It’s warm,” he added. “The sun is shining on my face, and I cannot feel it. I feel nothing but the cold of the trenches. I am never warm, Vi. Never.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek, but she ignored it and squeezed his arm again.

  “That’s lessened when you’re around.”

  Violet glanced away, closing her eyes, to hide the rush of feeling. The guilt that even though she loved him, when he asked her to marry him, she would say no.

  He didn’t add to that statement, so they walked on in quiet as they passed the Belgian people going about their lives in the market where they sold their wares. They worked and lived while Violet and Tomas walked through the streets followed by ghosts that wouldn’t leave them be.

  The bells of the church rang and Tomas jumped, but his hand tightened on hers when she checked to see if he was all right, and he took in the sight of her tears for him before his jaw clenched and he said, “Tell me about Smythe-Hill.”

  Violet shook her head, without saying a word.

  He didn’t press, and the bell tower came ever closer. They walked over a stone bridge covered in greenery with tree branches hanging low.

  “It’s lovely here. Would that London was so perfect.”

  She felt the pressure of Tomas’ wants and recalled Jack’s face to give herself courage.

  Tomas took a seat on the wall between the street and the canal. He patted the spot next to him. Violet sat slowly down, repeating the injunction to herself to be brave. The bell tower overlooked them, the sun was shining, it was possibly the most beautiful place she’d ever been. A perfect location for what was to come. Would that her companion was a different one.

  “Vi,” Tomas started. His gaze was heavy on her. “Vi…”

  “There you are!” The brash Italian voice cut in and Violet leapt with sheer, unadulterated gratitude. Never had Tomas been closer to getting her to say yes when she wished to say no. Especially, surrounded as they were, by their ghosts.

  “I thought you might head this way.” Bettina grinned down into their faces, the brightness not reaching her eyes. “Oh! Chocolates. You do think of me so kindly.”

  Violet bit the inside of her mouth as Bettina took the bag from Tomas and then snuggled into his side. He was a brick wall next to her. Vi choked on a laugh. A slight squeak escaped, and Tomas knew her well enough to nudge her side.

  She glanced up at him, lips twisted in the face of his agony and laughed. She couldn’t stop it.

  “Oh,” Violet said, with a smirk. “How clever you are to find your quarry as you have.”

  Her shoulders were shaking with her silent giggles and Tomas grinned at her despite his irritation.

  “Shall we see the Madonna then?” Bettina demanded. She stood, hauling Tomas to his feet and winding her arm through his. “Are you coming? Or did you wish to rest for longer? British women are so wilting, no?”

  Tomas’ agonized, unvoiced plea had Violet rising. She did not wish to marry him, but she’d be damned if she saw this grasper weasel her way into his life.

  “I shall persevere,” Violet declared, adjusting her hat and taking Tomas’ other arm so that Bettina wasn’t able to claim the victory.

  Bettina shot Violet a furious glance and then turned to Tomas, chattering as he walked woodenly between the ladies.

  It didn’t take long to reach the church and find the marble statue of the Madonna and Child.