Haunting Violet
Page 41
“Your uncle must have had a fit of nerves,” Elizabeth snorted.
“A little,” she admitted.
“Should we visit with him?” Elizabeth asked, still rubbing her too-full belly.
“No, he’s in a dreadful temper. He lost at cards and then saw all the flowers. And father sent word that—” She glanced at me. “Well, never mind. He’s in a temper.”
“Just as well. I don’t think I can move.”
“Are you enjoying your stay in the country?” Tabitha asked me stiffly.
“Yes, thank you.” I nodded.
“Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you.”
Polite parlor conversation always made me feel itchy. Colin and Frederic, though of different classes, were allowed to sneak off and drink Madeira behind the shed. No one expected them to smile and sit politely. I suddenly envied them and their choices. I wanted to stroll through Vauxhall Gardens and visit the gaming hells and the opium dens. I wanted to walk in Hyde Park without a maid, or ride too fast in a carriage down St. James Street. I suddenly wanted it all.
And I was going to start by throwing off the pretty shackles of drawing room chatter. It was probably a bad idea. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I leaned forward.
“Tabitha, your sister wants us to find her murderer.”
Not precisely how I’d meant to begin.
“Not this again,” Tabitha snapped, turning to Elizabeth, who had sat up from her lounging as if a stray spark from the grate had set her skirts on fire. “Why did you bring your lunatic friend with you if you can’t control her?”
“Tabitha, please just listen to her,” she pleaded.
“I’ve already told you, I’m not a Spiritualist. I don’t believe in ghosts.” She whirled toward me. “Is she here right now?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“How convenient.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Actually, I’m not entirely certain how it works,” I admitted.
“It doesn’t work at all,” she said. “And my sister wasn’t murdered. She drowned.”
“You know as well as I do that your sister was far too good a swimmer to drown in a little pond.” Elizabeth scoffed.
Tabitha narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t think so before you met her.” By which I gathered she meant me.
“Perhaps that’s true. But it’s only because she made me think, not just blindly accept what I was being told. And you can’t deny people have been acting queer about it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She was trying to sound uninterested but it was too late. I’d caught the flicker in her eye. I just wasn’t entirely certain as to how to decipher it.
“Perhaps I’m wrong then,” I said. “I hope so. I only know that she’s trying to tell me something, and that she’s trying to protect you.”
“From what?” I didn’t think she knew she was chewing anxiously on her lower lip.
“I’m not sure. But she won’t rest. Not until we find out what happened to her.”
“She drowned. She was tired.”
“Do you really believe that?” I asked softly.
She leaped to her feet and paced to the window. “I have to.” It was the most honest thing I’d heard her say. Although I didn’t like her much, I could at least admire her for that alone.
“Can you remember who was here that week?” I asked. “We have to start somewhere.”
“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.
“A little,” she admitted.
“Should we visit with him?” Elizabeth asked, still rubbing her too-full belly.
“No, he’s in a dreadful temper. He lost at cards and then saw all the flowers. And father sent word that—” She glanced at me. “Well, never mind. He’s in a temper.”
“Just as well. I don’t think I can move.”
“Are you enjoying your stay in the country?” Tabitha asked me stiffly.
“Yes, thank you.” I nodded.
“Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you.”
Polite parlor conversation always made me feel itchy. Colin and Frederic, though of different classes, were allowed to sneak off and drink Madeira behind the shed. No one expected them to smile and sit politely. I suddenly envied them and their choices. I wanted to stroll through Vauxhall Gardens and visit the gaming hells and the opium dens. I wanted to walk in Hyde Park without a maid, or ride too fast in a carriage down St. James Street. I suddenly wanted it all.
And I was going to start by throwing off the pretty shackles of drawing room chatter. It was probably a bad idea. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I leaned forward.
“Tabitha, your sister wants us to find her murderer.”
Not precisely how I’d meant to begin.
“Not this again,” Tabitha snapped, turning to Elizabeth, who had sat up from her lounging as if a stray spark from the grate had set her skirts on fire. “Why did you bring your lunatic friend with you if you can’t control her?”
“Tabitha, please just listen to her,” she pleaded.
“I’ve already told you, I’m not a Spiritualist. I don’t believe in ghosts.” She whirled toward me. “Is she here right now?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“How convenient.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Actually, I’m not entirely certain how it works,” I admitted.
“It doesn’t work at all,” she said. “And my sister wasn’t murdered. She drowned.”
“You know as well as I do that your sister was far too good a swimmer to drown in a little pond.” Elizabeth scoffed.
Tabitha narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t think so before you met her.” By which I gathered she meant me.
“Perhaps that’s true. But it’s only because she made me think, not just blindly accept what I was being told. And you can’t deny people have been acting queer about it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She was trying to sound uninterested but it was too late. I’d caught the flicker in her eye. I just wasn’t entirely certain as to how to decipher it.
“Perhaps I’m wrong then,” I said. “I hope so. I only know that she’s trying to tell me something, and that she’s trying to protect you.”
“From what?” I didn’t think she knew she was chewing anxiously on her lower lip.
“I’m not sure. But she won’t rest. Not until we find out what happened to her.”
“She drowned. She was tired.”
“Do you really believe that?” I asked softly.
She leaped to her feet and paced to the window. “I have to.” It was the most honest thing I’d heard her say. Although I didn’t like her much, I could at least admire her for that alone.
“Can you remember who was here that week?” I asked. “We have to start somewhere.”
“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.
