Day after day, Violet discovered another gift from Alex as soon as she awoke. Even while he was gone, he arranged for some small thing like flowers or a book to come to her.
Every gift came with a note. For my duchess. Violet, though delighted by her husband’s thoughtfulness, nevertheless began to feel strangely sad when she read the inevitable words. They began to feel wrong, as if something was missing. But she did not know what else she could possibly be to him. She was his duchess. Why could she not be content with that?
One morning, Violet was reading in the room with her parents’ portraits when Millie found her.
“Do you know how many gifts and letters you’ve got?” the younger woman asked.
“From Alex, you mean?” Violet asked.
“Not those. I meant the things the household wasn’t to let you have till it had been checked.”
“What?” Violet rose when Millie beckoned her at the doorway.
“It’s a pile, and it’s so intriguing. I think we should look!”
Violet walked through the halls with Millie. “But it could be dangerous.”
“Oh, I heard about the snake. How dramatic!” she added critically. “I read a play where that happened, and it seemed so overdone. Cleopatra should stand alone in the category of death by asp, don’t you think?”
“I certainly don’t want to join her,” Violet said.
They reached the butler’s retiring room off the kitchens. Millie demanded to see the “suspicious presents,” as she called them.
“His grace order them to be kept here,” the butler said.
“Then we’ll look at them here!” Millie countered.
Grudgingly, he stood aside and let Millie and Violet enter. “Call out if you need anything, your grace,” he told Violet. “We’ve checked everything, but just in case…”
“I’m sure it’s safe,” Millie said airily, with the confidence of the young. “Come, Violet. It’s fascinating.”
Violet stared in amazement as Millie showed her a stockpile of little gifts and letters covering one table in the room. She touched a few bouquets of flowers in jars, a set of gloves, a few knickknacks, and several letters.
“These were all sent to me?” she asked.
“Since you came back to the Abbey. Alex was very firm about no one letting you get them, though, in case it should be another nasty surprise like that snake.”
“These are just…violets,” said Violet, looking at one bunch of flowers. “How could they hurt me?”
“I’ve no idea. Perhaps Alex is just jealous. I think you have an admirer.”
Violet picked up one of the folded sheets, reading a short poem. “Not exactly a passionate declaration of love,” she said.
Millie plucked the paper away to read it herself. “Odd,” she agreed. “He compares you to a dread queen. Sounds like he’d be scared to actually meet you.”
“One should not send love letters to a married woman. Or flowers.” Violet touched the gloves, unconsciously comparing them to the ones she owned. This pair was cheaper, rougher. “He can’t have much money. I hope he stops sending things, if only because he can’t afford it.”
Millie gave a sigh. “It’s rather romantic, though. He must have seen you from across a room, and been lovestruck! He’ll waste away with love, since you’re a duchess, and married to another, and so far above him.”
“If he’s as young as you’re making him out to be, he’ll get over me quickly enough,” Violet said.
“Ugh. I hope not. It’s much more pleasant to think of a young man with some constancy in his affections. That’s how it should be.”
Violet shook her head. “It still doesn’t make sense.”
“Love doesn’t have to make sense,” Millie said.
“This isn’t love,” Violet protested. “This is…theater. Anonymous notes. Odd gifts. I would much prefer he stop. And I don’t wish to know if he sends anything else.”
“But he’d be even more heartbroken. Maybe he’ll be so upset that he’ll send a snake, as well.”
“There aren’t two people in England mad enough to mail me a snake,” Violet snapped, upset at Millie’s continued defense of the sender.
But Millie’s eyes rounded. “That’s it!” she cried. “These are apologies!”
“Why? If he sent a snake at first, why would he want to apologize? Wouldn’t he hate me?”
“I don’t know,” the younger girl admitted. “It’s very confusing. Perhaps it’s because men are so terribly confused themselves. In every story or play I read, they never know what they want until it’s too late.”
* * * *
Late on a sunny afternoon, one of the maids entered the room where Violet was reading. “His grace’s carriage was just spotted at the head of the drive, ma’am.”
Violet looked up, happy at the news. “It was? Then I shall come down to the front doors immediately.”
She had no time to change, not that it mattered much. She looked presentable, especially since Dalby had spent extra time that morning experimenting with a new hairstyle that left ringlets trailing down her neck.
Violet reached the foyer just as Alex walked in. “You gave no hint you were returning today!” she said as she came up to him. Indeed, while he had sent her a short letter nearly every day, none suggested when he’d be back.
“I thought I’d surprise you,” Alex replied. He looked pleased to see her, and Violet wondered if she ought to embrace him, but the moment for that seemed to have passed.
Instead, they walked toward the wing of the house where their bedrooms were, since both had to change for dinner. They went slowly, each sharing news of what happened during the time apart.
At one point, when they were alone in the upper hall, he stopped, then reached out and touched the ivory hair comb she’d found on her dresser that morning.
“Lovely. Who gave you that?” he asked, teasingly.
Violet laughed. “You did, and you know it. Though I’m still not sure why.”
“Do I need a reason? Other than wanting to adorn you the way you deserve to be?”
Violet looked down at the floor. She was not up to countering his banter, especially when she couldn’t tell how seriously he meant it. She suspected this might be what it felt like to be courted, but she and Alex were already married.
Alex interrupted her reverie. “Could I ask for your assistance with something I’m studying?” he asked, his voice more serious.
“Of course. After dinner?”
“Not till tomorrow. To be honest,” he confided. “I need a bit of a rest. Chasing after shadows and meeting with people who don’t particularly want to see me does take a toll.”
His words were casual, but his intent was not. He was once again letting her see a part of his life that no one else could.
She shook her head. “That sounds rather dangerous. Daring, but dangerous.”
“It was necessary.”
“Well, I should hope it wasn’t merely for amusement,” she said, then put her hand out. “I can only treat this lightly because you weren’t hurt.”
He took her hand, squeezing it in reassurance. “Not a bit. Just a little tired, and hungry.”
“Excellent. Dinner is in less than an hour. We wouldn’t want to keep Herbert and Millie waiting. Also, I was thinking I’d go out to the folly tonight,” Violet added. “You could come by at half past two. The comet I’m measuring will only be visible until then.”
“I’ll be there. Both for dinner and later,” he added with a smile.
* * * *
The evening meal was lively. Even though their group was small, talk was animated. Millie in particular was eager to explain her new theory of—as she termed them—“the other gifts.” Though Alex was initially upset when he heard how many little gifts arrived, he listened carefully to Millie’s idea.
“He’s terribly sorry, you see,” Millie was saying. “He’s madly in love with Violet, and so he was struck by wild jealousy. He thought if he couldn’t have her, no one could, and he sent the snake to the house so Violet would be killed. That way she would be lost to all men. If he was going to lose, no one would win!” By the end, Millie had gotten so carried away that she stood up at the table, brandishing a butter knife.
“If he was going to lose,” Alex echoed, as if to himself. Then he asked, more sharply, “Why the flowers afterward then?”
“Because he realized the depths of his depravity, Alex.” Millie gave an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, do I have to explain everything? He knew he’d done a great evil, and he now wishes to express his remorse. His is a heart capable of great range, from high to low.”
Herbert bit back a laugh. “Sounds like me at eighteen. Though the deadliest act I ever committed was to write some extremely dire verse. There is a certain madness among the young.”
“I’m not mad,” Millie objected, sitting down again.
“No, you’re not. Just a tad morbid,” Alex said. “It’s an interesting theory. And like all theories, it would need to be examined.”
“Exactly,” said Millie, content in her reasoning.
After dinner, Violet went out to the folly. The sky was clear and the spring air was soft against her face. She lost track of time as she worked, and when Alex came up to the roof, she nearly jumped in surprise.
“Is it so late?” she asked.
“Half past two,” he said. “That’s what you told me.”
Then he stepped up to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Time to go back,” he said gently. “You may not have noticed, but you’re shivering.”
She had not noticed until then. Instinctively, she slid her hands under his jacket until her arms were wrapped around him.
After a moment, Alex embraced her, tucking her head under his chin. “Does that help?” he asked.
Violet nodded, already feeling warmer. “Thank you,” she said, hardly loud enough to be heard. “I don’t know why you indulge me so much. You come out here in the middle of the night. You get me presents for no reason…”
“I have a reason,” he said.
“What?” She tipped her head up to see him.
“It’s not obvious?”
Alex kissed her then, and Violet tightened her hold on him. She could feel Alex’s body tense beneath the shirt, but felt no inclination to pull away.
When the kiss ended, she asked, “What do you want?”
He touched her face, but then said, “I want to walk you to your room so I can kiss you goodnight.”
“Oh.” Violet smiled, but inwardly wished he’d said something else. Don’t be such a mouse, she told herself. He promised to let you decide. She sighed. That meant she had to say the words. And something in her was still fearful. She wasn’t afraid of Alex, she realized. She was afraid for him.
What if she became another part in his tragedy? How would he deal with that?
Violet didn’t say much as they walked back to the house. But she wrapped her hand around his arm very tightly, as if she could keep him safe from fate.
He noticed. “Violet, what’s the matter?”
“I care about you,” she blurted out. “I do care, and I don’t want anything to happen—”
He put a hand on hers, stopping her words. “Lord, did I scare you with my comment today? I wasn’t in danger. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“It’s not that. Not exactly. I know you’re involved in something that you can’t tell me about. And I don’t want you to violate that trust. I don’t need to hear details. But just know…that I care.”
He said nothing for a moment, then kissed her lightly on her cheek. “Thank you, Violet.”
They resumed their walk back, Alex saying that he had to get her safely inside before she truly took a chill.
At her bedroom door, he kissed her goodnight. This time it was almost painfully sweet, and Violet wanted nothing more than to hear him ask to come in.
But he didn’t, because he promised. Violet whispered goodnight instead of what she wanted to say, and both of them went to bed alone.
* * * *
When Violet came down for breakfast late the next morning, she was surprised to find Alex still in the room, sipping a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper. The smell of the coffee teased her nose, being particularly fresh and strong for some reason.
“Either I am remarkably early or you’re unusually late for breakfast,” she said.
“Perhaps both,” he said. “I had a lot of work to catch up on, and I put off the meal for a while.”
Violet assembled her breakfast from the sideboard, choosing bread and honey and some cheese. She filled her own coffee cup and joined Alex at the table.
She ate a few bites of food, while Alex went back to his papers. She looked around, and blinked when she saw a large wooden crate on the floor by the table. How had she missed that? She practically tripped over it to get to her seat.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Alex glanced up. “Hmm? Oh, that crate? Perhaps you’d better find out.”
Frowning, Violet got up and examined the crate. Her name was indeed on the label, along with the name of Dunmere Abbey. She ran a hand along the lid and noticed two rope handles. It looked as though she could tug the lid right off.
She turned to find Alex watching.
“I assume this is safe to open,” she said.
“Yes. Go on,” he said, no longer pretending to read the paper.
“This is your doing,” she accused.
He gave a little, helpless shrug that would have fooled no one.
With a huff, Violet turned back and grabbed the handles. The lid was tightly fitted, but a strong tug released it, and the intense aroma of roasted coffee wafted out. “What…”
She leaned over the crate, inhaling the scent. The crate was absolutely filled with nothing but heavy burlap bags of coffee beans. She plunged her hands in, felt the peculiar weight and heft of beans, and then she was laughing, elbow deep in coffee smell and utterly undone. “Alex, you got me coffee.”
“Well, diamonds don’t seem to impress you,” he noted mildly. But when she turned, he was smiling, unable to pretend nonchalance. “Do you like it?”
“Yes!” Violet stood up. She rounded the table and leaned over to embrace him. “Thank you. I shall drink every drop.”
Alex put one hand up to keep her there. “Kiss me,” he said.
She did, tasting coffee on his lips.
He released her with a show of reluctance. “I almost don’t want to bring up my next request.”
“What is it?”
“Can I ask you something about astronomy?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Come with me to the study,” he said. “I’ll show you there.”
He shut the door and settled Violet into a seat by the desk before he said another word. Then he pulled his papers from a locked drawer. “This represents what I’ve learned, at least in terms of who the victims are, and when and where they were killed.
“I need to know what’s coming,” he said seriously. “I don’t have enough information to know who the killer is, but I think there are enough puzzle pieces that we can guess where he’ll strike next. And when. If we can narrow that down, I can see to it that those spots are watched at the time. It might be sufficient to save someone’s life.”
“Well, I can hardly refuse to help after that argument.”
“I don’t like to involve you in something so gruesome.”
“Alex, someone tried to kill me not long ago. I am involved. So let’s begin work, shall we?”
As Alex laid out his notes, Violet read them all closely, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip.
“Do you have a map of London?” she asked.
“Somewhere.” Alex dug through his papers until he found one. “Try this.”
“May I write on it?”
“If you’re solving a murder, you can do whatever you like to it.”
Violet actually laughed as she unfolded the map flat on the desk. “Never thought I’d hear that in my life. All right. List the locations of each murder, in the order they occurred.”
He did, and Violet dutifully marked each one on the map. She inscribed the symbol found next to each body on the map as well.
“See a pattern?” Alex asked.
“Not yet.” With her finger, Violet drew a line from the first to the last murder. “It could be a circle, like the Zodiac. And these are the first three signs the killer used. They’re in order…”
“But?” Alex could tell she didn’t like her theory.
“As I said before, Capricorn is the first sign he used, but it’s not the first sign of the Zodiac. So why start in the middle? It makes no sense.”
“Murder doesn’t always make sense.”
Violet shook her head. “But you think the victims were chosen carefully. So there is some logic. Perhaps…” She looked thoughtful. “Perhaps the pattern—if it is a pattern—is a constellation. One murder for each star.”
“That’s dark.”
“Agreed,” said Violet. “I’ll look through my books to see if these three points correspond to any particular constellation. Though three points isn’t much to go on.”
“That sounds impossible,” Alex objected. “You’ve got a whole night sky to choose from.”
“I don’t think so,” Violet said. “I’ll look first at the constellations along the ecliptic—that is, the signs of the zodiac. If our murderer is painting such symbols on the ground, it fits that he could also be recreating something on a larger scale.”
“The whole city is his canvas.”
“Well, if he’s aiming to kill twelve people, he’s got grand plans,” she noted. “Perhaps he believes that the whole city is the canvas he deserves.”
Violet moved to the door. “I’ll be back in a moment with my books. Unless you’d prefer to work alone till I find something of value?”
He shook his head. “Hurry back.”
She did, and sunk into a chair in order to flip through her books of stars, trying to match the scanty evidence of three little dots in a crooked line to a real constellation.
She plotted out a few possible patterns based on what they knew. “If the killer is making a circle of signs, just like the zodiac, the next one should occur near here.” She marked that spot on the map.
“There’s a park close by,” Alex said. “I’ve been there. A good spot to lure someone. I can make sure the park is under watch. What if he goes the other direction?”
“The signs have been consecutive so far. The next sign should be Aries. And if he’s making a circle, it should continue on a counterclockwise arc, like so.” She traced the imaginary circle on the map. “The last one, Sagittarius, would occur here, in December.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t take me that long to catch him.”
“Or her,” Violet suggested.
“One witness described a big, younger man…and the victims were all held before being stabbed in the chest. It would have to be a very strong woman.”
Violet shuddered. “Forget I mentioned it.”
“No, I don’t think I will. You made me realize something. I was assuming the murderer acted alone. There’s nothing to say it couldn’t be more than one person. A woman could certainly be involved in some way.”
“Perhaps she got the victims to follow her. They wouldn’t be scared of a woman.” Violet tried to picture a lady who could be so callous. She automatically thought of her Aunt Judith. Perhaps it wasn’t so farfetched to think there could be other women like her aunt. So determined to get what they wanted that they would stop at nothing. Not even murder.
“That’s logical,” Alex said in agreement.
“Yes, well.” She relied on logic…most of the time.
As they worked for the next few hours, Violet kept looking over at Alex. He was so dedicated to his work, just as he was dedicated to his estate and his family. He did all of it without complaint. And until he married her, he’d done all of that virtually alone for years.
She was glad that he trusted her enough to let her see a tiny sliver of his life. She wished she could do more.
Well, she could. Violet took a slow breath. Alex hadn’t married her for help in his investigations. He married her because he wanted an heir. And Violet knew that, to be a true wife, she had to accept the entire role.
She chanced another look at her husband. Her very kind, extremely compelling, and decidedly not cursed husband.
“What?” Alex asked. He’d noticed her gaze.
“Oh!” Violet jumped in her seat, embarrassed to be caught staring, particularly considering her line of thought. “I was just…distracted.”
He consulted the clock in the room. “No wonder. We’ve been in here for hours. Let’s get some air.”
Violet stood up. “That would be very welcome.” She’d ask tonight. Somehow. Her stomach was tying up in knots as she contemplated how to do it.
Alex took her outside on a brief walk, but Violet was by now so preoccupied that she couldn’t focus on the conversation. Could she actually speak the words that she knew she had to? Or would she shrink away from it again? At the door to the house, she actually said out loud, “Of course I can. They’re just words, after all.”
“What?” Alex sounded confused. He’d been talking about something completely different, and she hadn’t registered a thing.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I need to rest before dinner. Please excuse me. I’ll see you then.”
“Very well.” Violet knew he watched her until she got all the way up the stairs and turned the corner toward her room.
* * * *
After Violet left, Alex had no idea how to occupy himself until dinner. Returning to the grisly work of investigating the murders was too much to bear at the moment. Especially if he had to work alone.
Instead, he thought of his perplexing wife. Despite the genuine pleasure he felt in simply being near Violet, a gnawing sense of frustration had set in. Granted, she seemed much more comfortable with him than she did at first. She was even affectionate, never hesitating to touch him or take his hand. He remembered when she rushed into the foyer when he got back to the house, looking as if she’d run from wherever she was. He couldn’t recall anyone looking that happy to see him lately. He almost kissed her right in the foyer, though something held him back, some fear that she’d refuse a kiss where others—even just the household—would see. Although she certainly hadn’t refused his kiss when he walked her to her room after stargazing that same night. He almost asked her to let him in. But pride shut him up in time, and he reluctantly let her go. He promised, and he’d keep the promise.
He paced in his study, thinking of his supposed curse. He knew that lay at the root of the matter. His previous marriages, the gossip, the fear. On some level, he was sure, Violet believed that if their marriage remained in name only, the curse could be avoided.
They had dinner as usual, though Violet still seemed a bit distracted. Afterwards, she said to him, “I’m heading out to the folly. There’s, ah, a meteor shower I’m quite interested in. Might I ask you to come by a bit after midnight?”
“Isn’t midnight early for you?”
“Oh, if you’ll be disturbed…” she began to say.
“No, not at all. I just have some reading to do in the library. I’ll come for you after midnight.”
Violet did not reply, other than to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I will see you later then,” she said, an odd catch in her voice.
Alex headed directly to the library after supper. He dismissed everyone, saying he did not wish to be disturbed. Pouring a glass of brandy, he settled down by the fire to read, but found himself distracted and malcontent. He could not focus on the task at hand. His mind was full of Violet.
The clock ticked toward midnight. He kept glancing up, wishing the hands would move faster. Finally, the chimes for midnight sounded. He couldn’t wait any longer.
At the garden door, he flung on his greatcoat and shoes. He walked past the lake and though the wet grass. He glanced up, and noticed heavy clouds. Violet could not possibly be stargazing tonight. But she would have stopped in the library and told him if she came back early. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep.
The door to the folly was unlocked, just as always. He went in and up the curving stairs, moving quietly so as not to disturb Violet.
He reached the upper landing, where the dull red glow of her special lantern spilled out under the door. There was no noise, so he assumed she had fallen asleep. But when he opened the door, Violet was sitting near the brazier. She wasn’t reading or writing, just sitting. She stood up quickly.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” she said, her voice very soft.
“You asked me to.”
“Yes. But tonight, especially. I worried that you wouldn’t.”
He moved closer to her, now worried himself. “Violet, is something wrong?”
“Yes,” she replied intently. She came up to him, reaching out to take his hands.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We are married in name only,” Violet whispered. “And it’s long past time to change that.”
At her words, his body temperature seemed to double.
“Violet…” he began, but she cut him off by stretching up and kissing him quickly. He kissed her back, his mind suddenly filled with visions he’d tried so hard to suppress for the past several weeks. “You want me.”