Haunting Violet (15 page)

“Start what?”

“Our investigation,” Elizabeth replied, eyes shining.

“I think you're both daft,” Tabitha said.

She shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps. But try to remember which guests were here anyway.”

Tabitha sighed, as if she were greatly put upon.

“We didn't spend much time with the guests. We were still in the schoolroom, you'll recall. Caroline was here, of course, and Peter was courting Rowena, though she was sweet on someone else. She only paid him any attention because they've been betrothed since we were seven years old.”

“She was sweet on someone?” Elizabeth caught the scent of gossip as a hound caught the scent of deer in the woods. She would have put her nose to the ground if she'd thought it would help. “Who was she flirting with? She never told me a thing!”

“I still don't know,” Tabitha admitted. “She wouldn't tell me either. Anyway, no one ever spoke up afterward, or seemed more overset than the others at the funeral.”

Elizabeth nodded, clearly trying to remember. “I was at Highgate Cemetery for the London service,” she said quietly. “I don't remember any young man in particular either.” She tapped her fingers on her knee. “That's going to bother me now.”

I nudged her. “Focus.”

“Right, sorry. Who else was here, Tabitha?”

“I'm not sure. I think your cousin Frederic was at Rosefield with his sisters and both your aunts. Uncle's town friends came down, but I don't remember their names. Lords Winterbourne, Underhall, and Fitzwilliam as well, of course. They always come to a good party.” I recognized them from Rosefield. They spent most of their time gambling and hunting.

“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth sighed. “He's utterly divine, isn't he?”

He was rather handsome, with dark hair and a proud profile. He winked at all the debutantes to make them giggle. And he'd taken his coat off during the croquet game.

“Rowena thought so too,” Tabitha said. “I think he's far too old.”

“And Mr. Travis?” I asked casually.

She frowned. “Who?”

“He's one of the Spiritualists visiting Rosefield,” Elizabeth explained. “Very tall and rather thin? From the village?”

Tabitha shrugged. “I don't know him. Hardly sounds worth an introduction.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at me. “Is that all?” she pressed Tabitha.

“Yes. We were busy reading Greek myths and Caroline was an absolute bear about letting us out to mingle with the adults.”

Tabitha wavered in front of me, but only for a moment. Then Rowena was there, streaming water and lily petals. Her hand was pale and fluttered up to her neck. On her left hand, the gold ring with the tiny pearls that I'd found in the mud. The one Tabitha had grabbed from me. The one she was wearing right now.

“Rowena's ring,” I murmured questioningly. Tabitha curled her finger into the palm of her opposite hand, as if to hide it.

“I said as much,” she answered defensively. “So?”

“Tabitha,” I said gently. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing. She wouldn't tell me who gave it to her, and she wouldn't take it off.” She looked as if she might say something else, but Caroline rushed in, flustered.

“There you are,” she said. “I wondered where you'd gone off to.”

Tabitha clamped her lips together. “I've hardly run away,” she said, annoyed. “You needn't hover like a henmother. I'm perfectly capable of being alone for an hour.”

Caroline murmured placatingly and sat on a settee in the corner. Tabitha looked away, her entire posture changing. Whatever she might have been getting ready to tell us wasn't going to be revealed now. Not with her governess watching her every movement. Tabitha stiffened, as if her corset had just been tightened.

“Thank you for visiting,” she said. “But I'm feeling a little off.”

“Perhaps you ought to lie down,” Caroline suggested softly.

“No, I'll go for a walk in the garden.” She was pale. She pulled a tin of lozenges out of her pocket and slipped one under her tongue.

Elizabeth frowned. “Are those laudanum candies? Why are you taking those?”

“I have black headaches,” she answered tersely. She walked away without another word. I tried to ignore the hazy presence of several ghost-maids, winking in and out of sight by the window, all staring at me beseechingly.

I didn't like the way Caroline watched us go, her expression determined and even more pinched than usual.

CHAPTER 13

N
one of our subtle espionage had done us much good. Even our more deliberate questioning hadn't revealed anything particularly helpful. At this rate, I'd be an old lady in my rocking chair with Rowena still flitting about me like an annoying gnat. The image alone was enough to keep me awake for hours.

I finally gave up and decided to go downstairs to the library. I went as quietly as I could, bringing a candle with me so I wouldn't stumble into any furniture and wake the household. I was being so careful, I knew instantly that the creak of floorboards wasn't the result of my own footsteps. I froze. Another creak. I had no idea if it was a ghostly footstep or a more mundane human step. Either way, I had no wish to be discovered.

I blew out my candle and slipped into the shadows caused by a tall mahogany armoire and a cluster of ferns at the top of the stairs. I held my breath and waited. The creaking became louder and finally a figure came around the corner.

Mr. Travis.

He looked positively dreadful. His eyes were red as if he'd been drinking, but he seemed perfectly sober. Weeping might have caused such redness, but I didn't know what he could have to weep about. His slouch was more pronounced, as if it was a struggle to hold his posture. I frowned as he passed by me and went down the stairs. I debated fetching Elizabeth but there was no time. I eased out of the corner to follow him. He was clearly up to no good.

Mr. Travis passed the parlor without pausing. I raced from the shadowy safety of fern to fern to clock. I avoided the urns altogether. I hadn't thought he was moving very quickly but I lost sight of him around the corner past the library. The ballroom was an empty cavern. Frustrated, I turned on my heel, wondering how I was going to find him now.

I'd lost him entirely until I heard a murmur of voices from the men's private smoking room. The door was closed. I knelt silently in front of it, pressing my eye to the keyhole. I could see the flicker of a small fire in the grate and oil lamps on the tables. Lord Jasper puffed on an ebony pipe, reclining in his chair.

“Can't sleep again, old chap?” he asked Mr. Travis.

Mr. Travis ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I'm afraid not.”

“You look awful,” Peter slurred cheerfully. “Come and play at cards. I could use some more pocket money, if you've got any to lose. Ran clear through all my monthly allowance already.”

Mr. Travis joined them at the polished table, passing around a decanter of port and playing cards. I wouldn't get a better opportunity to suss out their secrets. I made a special point to seek out Lords Fitzwilliam, Winterbourne, and Underhall. Winterbourne was the only one of them not playing. Sir Wentworth's face was flushed, whether from sitting so near the fire or too much port, I couldn't tell. Frederic and Peter were definitely suffering the effects of too much port. If they swayed into each other any closer, Frederic would be sitting in Peter's lap. I entertained the notion of going to fetch Elizabeth but decided against it. At the sight of Frederic's undone cravat and open collar she'd squeal and we'd be found out for sure.

“Is that wise, Sir Wentworth?” Lord Underhall said mildly. “You've already lost your favorite horse.”

Tabitha's uncle drained his glass and set it down forcefully enough that the glass stem snapped. He wiped his hand on his pants. “Bah, I'll win yet. Mark my words.”

If it wasn't for the edge of tension hanging between each of the players I would have thought it a dreadfully dull thing to watch. Sir Wentworth lost that hand and pieces of parchment, which I assumed were notes signifying a debt owed, were exchanged.

“Your niece is rather lovely,” Lord Fitzwilliam drawled to Sir Wentworth. “And about to be launched onto the Marriage Mart, isn't she?”

I couldn't help but think that Rowena had, after all, been as beautiful as Tabitha, whom he was now complimenting. It was worth further investigation. Sir Wentworth stopped scowling at his cards and scowled at Lord Fitzwilliam instead.

“Not for the likes of you,” he said darkly. “You haven't the blunt to afford her. Not with my bloody brother at the reins of the family fortune. So keep your distance, Fitzwilliam.”

Fitzwilliam only laughed. The night stretched on. Peter looked as if he barely knew his own name, but he still managed to win the next hand. Mr. Travis didn't appear to be drinking, only swirled his port in his glass in a manner that made Sir Wentworth grit his teeth. Lord Jasper offered his guests coffee. Peter switched to brandy. Sir Wentworth won a gold watch and lost a pouch of coins. He rubbed his face. Mr. Travis ate a piece of cheese. I yawned, bored. The floor was hard under my knees, and I shifted slightly to ease the pressure.

“Deuced cold in here,” Peter muttered, slurring slightly.

Cold didn't quite explain it.

Rowena appeared at the table, drifting in between the players, trailing her hand over the table. The cards ruffled. Peter shivered.

“Shut the window,” he told Frederic.

Lord Jasper frowned, eyes bouncing around the room, as if he knew the chilled air had nothing to do with an open window. Rowena circled, her expression softening, then sharpening, seemingly at random.

I knew the exact moment she realized I was on the other side of the door.

She turned and abandoned her pacing around the table, moving so quickly I thought she'd vanished. She reappeared, very suddenly, her eyes staring right into mine. The iron plate of the handle frosted as I yelped and fell backward. I cracked my elbow on the edge of a table. A candlestick wobbled and fell over, silver thudding into the parquet floor.

“What was that?” Mr. Travis inquired. There was the sound of chairs being pushed back and men getting to their feet.

I ran all the way to my room, cradling my injured arm and praying no one would follow. The fear of being caught didn't fully dissipate until a full half hour had passed without a knock sounding on my door.

“It's not a good idea.”

“I
know
that,” I told Colin again. We were huddled in a dark corner behind a terrarium of ferns outside the parlor. Elizabeth peered around the edge of the glass to be certain we weren't about to be discovered. “But we have to do
something
.”

“Not this,” Colin insisted.

Elizabeth hissed at us. “Keep your voices down.” Laughter spilled down the hall from the parlor. “Besides, it will all be perfectly safe.”

“You should listen to Jasper if you won't listen to me,” he muttered. “He said to leave it alone. It's too dangerous.”

“Well, we can't sit around much longer waiting for a mute ghost to tell us everything we need to know. She's being irritatingly cryptic, if you'll notice.” Colin was very close to me; he smelled like rain. “We've made a list of suspects but it's hardly of any use if we don't do anything with it.”

“You made a list of suspects?” He groaned.

“Yes,” Elizabeth told him pertly. “We're very clever, actually.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Who's on this famous list then?”

I explained what we'd discovered, listing only the most prominent names: Caroline; Peter; Mr. Travis; and Lords Fitzwilliam, Winterbourne, and Underhall.

“Frederic, is, of course, not a suspect,” Elizabeth felt the need to warn us sternly.

“ 'Course not,” Colin said dryly.

“Oh, and Rowena had a secret beau. We need to find out who he was.”

“Ha.” Elizabeth nodded triumphantly. “Told you we were clever.”

“And reckless.”

“It's only a few questions here and there,” she scoffed. “And I know everyone here, have since I was a baby.”

He shook his head. “Everyone has secrets.”

“Not the peerage.”

“
Especially
the peerage.”

Elizabeth looked shocked. “Surely not.” She shook her head. “I'll go in first.”

We watched her go. Colin rubbed his face. “Doesn't it seem strange to you that every single person accounted for at the party last year is here now? In Lord Jasper's country house? With a purported medium?”

I stilled. He had a point. And Lord Jasper had been vehement in his warnings when we'd tried to question him.

Our list of suspects had just gotten longer.

“Violet, I don't like it.”

“I know, but I don't see that we have a choice.” And we couldn't mention it to Elizabeth. She'd never believe it of her godfather.

“Consider this then: what if you end up asking the actual murderer a question that makes him nervous? He'll think you know more than you do. Then what?”

Again, he had a point.
Blast.

“We'll be very careful,” I promised, smoothing out my skirt. The day had been rather hard on my clothes. My last clean dress was a plain dark brown gown a few years out of style, but it would have to do. Mother had not been pleased. At least her head had stopped pounding so she wasn't yelling at all the maids anymore.

“Do you have salt?” Colin asked me finally.

“Yes.” Feeling foolish, I pulled at a pocket until a small trickle of salt poured out. I wasn't entirely convinced it would help, but I was willing to try anything to prevent a repeat of the events at the pond.

“There's that at least,” he said grudgingly.

We eased into the hall and then into the parlor where everyone had gathered for post-supper tea and games. Colin waited inside by the door, as he always did. I joined Elizabeth on a settee, trying to pretend we'd been sitting there all along. We'd have to blend a little before we did anything. A maid handed me a plate of iced biscuits and a cup of tea. I smiled and sipped at it, watching everyone and trying not to be obvious about it.

I let the murmurs about archery the next day and shopping in the nearby village and how certain dresses had a dreadful lack of silk flowers flow over me. There were well over a dozen couples; I had no idea how we were supposed to find out anything useful. One hardly spoke to sixteen-year-old girls, and we weren't meant to speak at all unless asked a question directly. Elizabeth lifted her cup and used the rim to hide her mouth.

“Unlce Jasper you know, and Lady Octavia and Lucinda. Lord Francis in the creased breeches is the family embarrassment. He drinks and swears and smells like fish. Most alarming. Lord and Lady Kearlsey are neighbors; they'd have been here as well. He drinks and she gambles, but only secretly. She lost a pair of bays and her favorite carriage last year on a hand of whist. Frederic,” she couldn't help a little sigh, “and the other boys are all at Oxford. Both Ellen and Diana are betrothed and will talk of nothing else. Lord Furlinghew has a mistress in town. Or is it two? Tabitha's uncle you know, he always sneaks me an extra pudding at Christmastime. Lord Fitzwilliam is making Lady Marguerite blush, I wonder what he could be saying.” She squinted, as if she could read their lips but soon gave up with a sigh. “Lord Winterbourne there is a little paunchy, but he's terribly rich. Lord Underhall doesn't say much but by all accounts is very kind.” I hadn't heard him say a word at the card game, even when he won a hefty sum that had made the other men groan.

Colin was right. It was strange that they were all here, the same people at nearly the same party.

I caught Mr. Travis sipping coffee and watching us with a half frown. “Mr. Travis is staring at me again,” I murmured.

“Perhaps he thinks you're pretty.”

“Or perhaps he knows we suspect him.”

“Well, don't make eye contact then. And don't glower! You'll give yourself away completely.” She went on with her appraisal of the guests. “The Tretheweys you already know, in trade but not bad altogether.” She nudged me knowingly. I ignored her.

“And Tabitha's father truly hasn't been back since the … accident?” It seemed more prudent to say “accident” instead of “murder,” no matter how hushed our voices were. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her, even though she was flirting with Xavier and shooting me mocking glances. Her gown was utterly perfect, pale pink with cream-colored lace and pink stones edged with diamonds around her neck and wrists. The stones rested exactly where Rowena's bruises had been. She was very pale. Caroline stood nearby, stiff as an iron poker. I half-expected someone to take her by the feet and use her to stoke the fire.