Murder & The Heir Page 7

  VICTOR CARLYLE — Agatha’s great nephew. Partially raised by Aunt Agatha? An heir? Over John Davies? Surely that’s unlikely. Victor has money from both parents and doesn’t need to murder. Couldn’t get away with eating breakfast without Violet knowing, let alone plotting murder. Him a murderer? Never.

  Violet didn’t sleep so much as explore the far corners of her bed as she tossed and turned. When the servants started moving around, she was already sitting on the window seat with her list of suspects in her lap. She rose and made her way down the stairs. She was a little surprised to find Algernon already in the breakfast room. When Hargreaves entered, Algernon handed him a sheet of paper and said, “Send someone with it right away.”

  “Of course, sir,” Hargreaves said.

  Violet followed him out the door and into the hall where they were alone. “Hargreaves,” she said quietly.

  He turned. “Miss?”

  “Do you know if any of my cousins knows the details of Aunt Agatha’s will?”

  His jaw tightened and his gaze flitted over her face. “I have never suspected you miss. I encouraged Mrs. Davies to call on you and Victor for help.”

  “Thank you, Hargreaves. That means more than you know.”

  He nodded and said, “I was there when the will was made. I was, in fact, one of the witnesses when your aunt signed it. No one from the family was present. A clerk form the law office provided the second necessary witnessing signature.”

  Violet pressed her lips together and thought for a moment. “Do you know where it is kept?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you know if anyone else knows where it is kept?”

  Hargreaves paused, considering for a moment and then said, “That I can not say, Miss.”

  “Think on it, will you? I don’t expect you to tell me where it is. But see if you can remember anyone being found near it. I assume it’s been safely put away.”

  Hargreaves nodded and then said, “I will think on it and ask the others. Mrs. Davies changed it within the year, so…perhaps we can narrow this down.”

  “Thank you, Hargreaves.”

  Violet retuned to the breakfast room. “Good morning,” she said to Algernon.

  Then she made her way to the loaded side table over flowing with breakfast for the early risers. Violet poured herself a cup of strong black tea and took a few slices of toast before she sat down across from her cousin. “Algie.”

  “Vi,” he replied with a sharp nod. He had a newspaper at his side, but hadn’t opened it yet. “Sleep well?”

  “No, indeed not. You?”

  He shot her a rather unreadable look and took a drink of his tea. “Odd to be here again like this isn’t it? Rather like the old days when we played in the stream and rode Aunt Agatha’s horses.”

  “I suppose so,” she said, wondering if he’d heard rumors about someone trying to kill Aunt Agatha. Surely the servants had figured it out. If they had, then it would reach the others soon enough. That was the way things worked with servants. There were no secrets. “It’s rather odd to be around Meredith again. It’s been far longer than I’d realized.”

  “She’s still a dour thing, isn’t she?” Algie laughed. “Always had a touch of the blue to her. Had to be awkward having her father shove her off on Agatha like he did.”

  “She is a widow, Algie,” Violet reminded him. “Meredith rather has a reason to be a bit blue, doesn’t she?”

  “Come now. It’s been years since her husband died. Heard it was something of a whirlwind romance. He lived just long enough to spend the money grandfather left her. What about you? Do you still have the money grandfather left you or did you and Victor fritter it away?”

  Violet paused to take a long sip of her tea and examine her cousin. He was asking with a purpose, wasn’t he? “Why ever do you care, cuz?”

  Algernon flushed a bit and then said, “I suppose it was a bit out of the way to ask you that wasn’t it?”

  “A bit,” she said. She would have to set Victor on the hunt about why Algie was inquiring into her finances.

  “You think you’re Aunt Agatha’s heir?” he asked as Jack Wakefield entered the breakfast room. Suddenly those sharp eyes were fixed on her while Algie hadn’t even realized that they had company beyond the footman standing near the sideboard.

  “I have no reason to presume I am. I suppose any of us could be. My bet, if I were callous enough to make one, would be on John Davies.”

  “Why?” Algie demanded. “Didn’t you know that the investment money Aunt Agatha and Henry used to build their fortune was from grandfather? Surely one of Aunt Agatha’s blood will inherit?”

  “I have no idea who her heir is,” Violet admitted to Algie. “I never thought too much about it, to be honest.”

  “Come now,” Algie scoffed, “Why do you spend so much time with her then?”

  “I love her, you twit! My Mama asked Agatha to look after Victor and I. She cared for us through our childhoods for Mama.”

  “Oh yes,” Algie said as Jack took the seat next to Violet. “I forgot your Mama foisted you two off on Agatha. Rather clever of your mum to put you in the way of Agatha like that.”

  Violet dropped her toast and pushed her plate away. She leaned forward, ignoring Jack Wakefield to hiss, “My mother knew she was dying and wanted someone to love us and look out for us. It wasn’t about Agatha’s money. It was about her heart. You are a worm, Algernon Allyn and you always have been.”

  She stood and strode to the door chased out by Algie’s aside to Jack, “Women! They never are rational, are they? Not sure giving them the vote was quite the thing. Even if she can’t vote for a while yet.”

  Violet slammed the door to the breakfast room in answer to that nonsense.

  Chapter Ten

  Violet rushed from the breakfast room and flew through the halls, moving for the sake of moving rather than with any particular destination in mind. When Theodophilus stepped from the shadows near the billiards room, Violet shrieked a little.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you, sweet one,” he said.

  “Do not refer to me by endearments,” she told him, taking a step back as he took a step forward.

  “But I feel endearing towards you, my sweet.” An oily smile spread over his face with too much snake in it for Violet’s taste.

  She stopped backing up, because she refused to be cornered. “Be that as it may, you may call me Miss Carlyle or Lady Violet if you prefer.” The reference to her title was intentional. She wasn’t a snob but if the recollection of her father, the earl, got Theodophilus to back up, she’d allow class snobbery to interfere.

  “Violet, sweet,” he said, “I think we’re rather past that. You’re getting a bit long in the tooth aren’t you? Won’t be long before you have to take down your airs and realize that the men have moved on to younger prey than you. Your options are waning.”

  “Wonderful,” Violet snapped. “The men will have moved on, and we’ll all get what we want.”

  “But I won’t, sweet,” he said, taking a strand of her hair and tugging it too hard. It was as if he were trying to pretend to romance but the monster inside didn’t allow the lie. “I want you.”

  “No,” she said flatly.

  “I’d heard all the stories about when women say no,” Theodophilus said. “Your cousin said you’d be willing. Said you were getting desperate. Women say no to engender further asking, further chasing. It is a game you play, is it not.”

  Violet laughed into his face and he took her by the shoulders, shoving her against the wall. “Are you laughing at me, sweet?” The word sweet was suddenly a threat instead of a pet name, and she had to fight a shiver.

  “Women sometimes say no because they mean it, Mr. Smythe-Hill. You’ve been mislead. Algie has very little idea of what I want.”

  “Algie has very little idea about many things. How much do you care for your cousin?”

  “Why?” She asked, trying to twist out of his grasp. He was squeezing her should
ers so tightly, she would be bruised, but she would be damned if she’s cry out for the bloody fiend. “Let me go.”

  “You need to think about how much you love your cousin. And how much trouble you want to see him in?”

  “Let me go,” she demanded, refusing to listen to his threats.

  “He’s in rather a lot of trouble.”

  “So will you be. Let me go at once!”

  He shook her and someone cleared a throat behind them.

  Violet turned and saw Hargreaves’s niece, Beatrice. The fear Violet had been trying to hide came flooding forward. Her gaze was pleading with the girl, hopefully she was bright enough to stay.

  “Later, girl,” Theodophilus snapped. “We are having a private conversation.”

  “Let me go,” Violet said, distinctly, hoping—once again—that Beatrice was made of stern enough stuff to stick with Violet.

  “I said later, girl,” Theodophilus snapped again squeezing Violet even harder.

  “I’m afraid not, sir,” Beatrice said consolingly. “Miss, Mrs. Davies has asked for you.”

  Theodophilus let Violet go, hissing into her ear as he did, “We’ll speak of this again.”

  “Stay away from me,” she said clearly.

  “We’re not finished,” he replied, grabbing her harder before letting her go and almost floating down the hallway.

  “Do you believe that? Assaulting me in my aunt’s house and then just gliding away as if he weren’t a snake with slicked back hair and new money.”

  Typically speaking, Violet wasn’t one to turn up her nose at anyone let alone a family who’ d pulled themselves out of the middle class to the wealthy, but she was willing to make an exception for that animal.

  “Are you all right, miss?” Beatrice’s eyes flooded with tears for Violet who had to look away or cry as well.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. Just yesterday she’d been admiring how it felt somehow good to be small next to Jack Wakefield. Yet, Theodophilus had just made her feel helpless and he was a Lilliputian compared to Jack. She took in a fortifying breath and pasted a calm expression on her face.

  “Did you need me to send for your brother?” Beatrice asked carefully. She was clearly too sharp to pull the wool over her eyes. It wasn’t surprising given Hargreaves superior brainwork. It must run in the family.

  “Indeed not.” Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “Did my aunt really need me?”

  “I am afraid that was a little fabrication,” Beatrice replied. “I hope that I did the right thing.”

  “You did, indeed,” Violet said. “Thank you.”

  The gratitude was both for the lie and for the care in her voice. Violet ran up the stairs at the back of the house, not caring that she was on the servant’s case. She went directly to her brother’s room. Slamming open the door, she called his name entirely uncaring of the unmoving heap of him on the bed. She called him again and poured herself a generous glass of port.

  “Go away, Giles. We’re on holiday.”

  “Wake up you lazy lout,” Violet snapped, throwing a brush her brother’s way and taking a seat by the fire.

  “It’s not the thing to just burst into my room, Vi. You’re the devil.”

  “Algernon asked me if I’d frittered away my inheritance from Grandfather at breakfast,” Violet said, rising to yank her brother’s covers off. She averted her eyes and swallowed a massive gulp of the port and then choked on it.

  “So?” Victor asked, slowly pushing up. “I’m tired, sister. I wrote for hours last night.”

  “And then that snake, Theodophilus, manhandled me in the hallway and insinuated that I was his for the taking as some sort of recompense for something between himself and Algie.”

  Victor was silent, but he sat slowly then swung his legs over the side of his bed. His gaze had sharpened, took in her disheveled hair, her too-bright eyes, her shaking hands, and the alcohol.

  He cleared his throat and asked, “What now?”

  Violet saluted him with her port and answered, “You heard me, brother.”

  “Assaulted you?”

  “I’ll be wearing gowns with sleeves for a week or two.” Violet rubbed her shoulder, still feeling the press of Theodophilus’ fingers into her skin, the way she’d been unable to get away. “Hargreaves’ niece rescued me. Found us and made up a story about Aunt needing me. The girl refused to leave until he let me go.”

  “What now?” Victor demanded again, making Violet repeat it all. He cross examined her for details and exact language. She repeated her story, including what she’d learned of Aunt Agatha’s near misses the previous evening.

  When he stood, he was no longer her lazy spaniel brother. Victor refilled her glass and drank most of it himself. “Go to your room. I’ll send Lila or Gwennie your way. Stay with them, Violet. I mean it.”

  She didn’t argue, though she’d be damned if she’d let him tell her what to do. She was the older twin and she didn’t see how his being a male somehow made him more capable. On the average day, her brother would tell anyone that she was the useful twin, and he was lucky she’d been around to keep him out trouble. Today wasn’t going to change that.

  She did remember, however, that flash of vulnerability. The way she’d been unable to get away from Theodophilus. The way he’d deliberately dug his fingers into her shoulders, knowing he was stronger than her and that there was nothing she could do. And then she nodded. She’d go to her room and let Victor handle this. A wise retreat to leave Victor to the manhandling while she plotted for them both.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gwennie and Lila knocked on Violet’s door by the time she’d rung the bell, requested two hot compresses, and laid herself on the bed with a warm cloth over her eyes. She’d stripped herself down to her slip, put on her silk kimono, and curled onto her bed.

  Beatrice had brought the compresses along with tea, fussing over Violet until she had her feet up. The maid stayed behind and when the knock came, she answered the door.

  Despite the fussing, spiders had taken roost in Violet’s stomach and they didn’t fade with the tea, the compresses, or the company. She’d even tried mentally conjugating latin verbs to no avail.

  “Is it true, darling? Did that beast hurt you?” Gwennie asked, she crossed to Violet, examined her setup and then sat on the end of the bed without adjusting any of Beatrice’s good work.

  Lila simply bypassed asking questions and crossed to where Violet had the hot comprises on her shoulders and pulled them away.

  “That’s going to bruise.” Lila frowned as she said, “Denny and Victor are taking care of it. Even jolly Denny was enraged. He had rather a lot of things to say and none of them are repeatable.”

  Beatrice silently poured tea, not saying a word as Gwennie moaned for Violet and Lila raged against Theodophilus, his ancestry, and the stupidity of Algernon in getting mixed up with that type.

  Violet was started to move past that and onto something else. She wanted to know why Theodophilus thought he could just force her into something and vaguely threaten Algernon at the same time. Weren’t they chums? Didn’t they go out and about the town together? Didn’t they almost live in each other’s pockets?

  “What is this?” Lila demanded. She picked up Violet’s list of suspects for Aunt Agatha and read it aloud.

  “Attempted murderer suspects? Unlikely? Violet is this one of your and Victor’s games?”

  Violet sat slowly up. She hadn't intended to tell Gwennie and Lila about that.

  “But…it has you and Victor on it. Is this real? Violet what is going on?”

  Violet took a slow sip of her tea, eyed Beatrice and decided against telling the girl to leave. Instead Violet said, “It’s why we were called here. Girls…someone is trying to kill Aunt Agatha. She thinks it’s for her money. I…”

  It was too much all at once and as much as Violet tried to be strong and determined, she was crumpling inside. First Agatha, then being a suspect, then Theodophilus. Why did money turn
people into such animals?

  “Oh, Violet,” Lila sighed. “What a mess this is.”

  Violet just shook her head. How to explain what was happening? She wasn’t even sure what was happening. What madness was this? They were the fortunate few who didn’t have to work and somehow that hadn’t become enough for one of them.

  Beatrice’s eyes were wide as she hung up Violet’s earlier dress and straightened her shoes. Violet was one to have a very precisely arranged room, but in her upset, she’d allowed things to get tossed about, and Beatrice put them to rights. Oh! Violet did like that girl.

  “Do you believe that someone really is trying to kill your aunt?” Lila asked. She adjusted her hair in the mirror and then said, “What can we do?”

  Violet paused and then said, “Yes, I very much believe that someone is trying to kill Aunt Agatha. The most likely reason is money which means that the would be murderer is a member of my family.”

  Gwennie squeaked at that and Lila scowled at their friend before she turned back to Violet.

  “What do we do?”

  “Try to get Merry and Algie gossiping. We need to know what is happening with them.”

  Lila nodded. “That is easy enough isn’t it?”

  “Beatrice,” Violet turned to the girl and said, “I need you to keep an eye and ear out among the servants. See if you hear anything from them that is strange. I don’t expect you to sleuth, and I don’t want you at risk.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “But I do want you to see what you can find out by just paying attention. Will you do that?”

  “Yes miss.”

  “We’re lucky to have you,” Violet told the maid.

  “Thank you, miss,” Beatrice said as she left Violet’s room.

  Vi crossed to the bedroom door as the luncheon gong rang. She slipped into a loose blue dress that reached just past her knees. It was one of her few dresses that had sleeves as she did enjoy the shape of her shoulders. She sighed as she put it on and then wrapped her new jet beads around her throat finishing off with a pair of matching blue slippers.