A Biased Judgement Page 20

  “And have you heard anything from your old friends in Southampton?”

  “Miss Simms writes me, sir, and so does Daisy. They say it has got very bad and they all envy me my happy new position. I think Miss Simms will not stay there much longer. She has accepted Mr Davenport’s proposal and they are to be married next June.”

  “And you and Daisy are making plans too, I hear,” said I.

  “Yes, sir. I have hopes to marry as soon as the job is secure and we can find a place. Lady Beatrice is extremely kind. She has given me a roof while I wait to hear back from the force. But she really has few needs and there’s little enough for me to do. I was glad when she suggested I convey you in the carriage tonight. I am happy to assist you in any way you need me, Mr Holmes. A man likes to feel he is earning his keep.

  November 15th, 1897

  Watson called this morning to say his brother was starting to show signs of improvement. “I feel I should stay a while, though, Holmes,” he added. “He needs a lot of care yet and I know I should worry if I were to leave him.”

  “Of course you must stay, my dear fellow. Your brother must be your first concern.”

  “I knew you’d understand. How are things there? Are you making progress?”

  “Slow, Watson. I make very slow progress. I have concluded that Winters is most definitely a false name. I have a description of him which is too vague to be of much help, but it suggests an idea. Just an idea. The bird is lying low, but if I am right he cannot stay away from London for much longer. Indeed, I suspect he will be back within the next month.

  “As to Porlock, I have a rather audacious idea for getting into his house... It will need some preparation and careful planning. I shall write you the details. Stay warm and make sure you wrap up in your woollen scarf. We cannot have you getting ill too.”

  It is unfortunate that my friend must be away at this period. I miss him, I confess. Still, Stevens has proven himself quite invaluable. He calls every morning and takes me wherever I need to go. Despite his youth and lack of education, I find him very eager to learn. He has accompanied me to Scotland Yard twice this week alone and seems to be making friends among the younger constables. He has that ready knack for socialising that remains a mystery to me. It is a relief to travel without fear. I feel far more secure in the carriage and Stevens himself seems a very capable fellow.

  He tells me he is to go to Bitterne next week to see his fiancée, Daisy. He added, “I hope you will not think me impertinent, Mr Holmes, but I wonder if I might ask a favour?”

  This is exactly the sort of thing to raise alarms with me but I said, as casually as I could, “What sort of favour?”

  “It’s about Lady Beatrice, Mr Holmes. She’d no doubt be very cross with me for telling you, but the lady needs protecting, and that’s a fact.”

  “Protecting?” I exclaimed. “From what?”

  “That Wallace Summerville. He’s been calling upon her Ladyship fairly regular, like, and he always leaves her in distress. Of course, she’d never confide in me, Mr Holmes, but she might tell you.”

  “I shall look into it, Stevens. Thank you for letting me know.”

  November 21st, 1897

  My two shadows have vanished. I would like to think they have given up the task of spying upon me since I’ve been travelling by carriage, but I am not so naïve. I am, I confess, somewhat unsettled by their absence.

  Unfortunately, Stevens is away in Southampton visiting his fiancée and with Watson still in Scotland I am feeling an unfamiliar and most unwelcome sensation of vulnerability. Still, I will not let this unease keep me from my work or my tasks.

  Since I was in the City conducting some business at my bank I decided to call upon Lady Beatrice, ostensibly to thank her for the use of her carriage and her young footman’s time, but also to keep my promise to see she is safe.

  I was alarmed to find her much altered since last I had seen her, though it has been a mere couple of weeks. She greeted me affably and invited me to stay for lunch, an invitation I accepted with pleasure. Still, her distress, though well contained as one would expect from a member of her caste, caused me much concern.

  “Are you well, Lady Beatrice?” I asked.

  “Thank you, Mr Holmes,” she replied. “I am healthy enough.”

  “Come, you must not dissemble with me. Surely you can trust me with the truth?”

  She bit her lip and waited till the maid had finished serving the coffee. Then she said, “It is foolish of me to try to conceal anything from you, of all men. The truth is I am... frightened. There. It galls me to have to admit it. A healthy, educated and financially secure young woman living in the heart of the greatest metropolis in the world and I am as frightened as a child.”

  “Wallace Summerville?” I said.

  She nodded. “He came by late last night and was in rather a pitiful state of inebriation. He comes here from time to time, but when he last visited Stevens showed him the door rather forcefully. I was foolish enough to think I was finally rid of him. His timing is curious what with Stevens being away for a few days. I am not sure if Summerville’s appearance is merely coincidence, or if he has been watching the house. In any event, last night he arrived in high dudgeon and declared all sorts of nonsense-”

  “Nonsense?”

  “Of a romantic nature. Or what he thinks passes for romance. I have no patience with such conversation even when it is heartfelt, Mr Holmes. How much more repulsive is it when it is cloying and self-serving.”

  “And what happened?”

  “I told him to leave. I could have cried out but I hate seeming weak. Though I suppose I am...”

  I could see that tears were not far from the surface but the Lady controlled herself magnificently and they did not spill.

  “He became abusive and pushed me down. I told him I would scream and have him arrested. At that he seemed to recover himself somewhat. He rose to leave but said it was merely a matter of time until I succumbed to his ‘charms’ as he put it.”

  She shuddered.

  I gently peeled back her sleeve to examine the fresh bruise on her wrist. “He did this?”

  She nodded. “Mind, I left a mark or two of my own. I struck him with my fist. I fear I shall pay dearly for my resistance when I marry him.”

  “Marry.! You cannot mean it, Lady Beatrice. What could possibly compel you to marry such a creature?”

  “I have family obligations...” She bit on her lip so hard I thought she would draw blood.

  I rose and paced the floor. “I am reluctant to leave you so defenceless against this creature,” I said. “Surely you have friends or family who will protect you.”

  “My aunt is all the family I have.”

  “You cannot mean your aunt would compel you to marry the brute?”

  “No, not she. My godmother.”

  “Who is?”

  “The queen.”

  “Oh.”

  For some moments we sat in silence, then I asked, “You’ll forgive me, Lady Beatrice, but I see no evidence that Summerville has any particular fondness for you. Why, then, should he be so anxious to marry?”

  “His fondness is for my fortune, Mr Holmes. His brother has already gone through my aunt’s dowry and is about to lose the house to creditors. Wallace Summerville is in equally dire circumstances, from what I understand. If he cannot pay his debtors and swiftly... I would just give him the money if I thought I could be rid of him.”

  “You must not do that,” I said. “Such a creature will spend every penny in a matter of days and then come back for more.”

  “I know... I know...”

  We ate a rather morose luncheon, both of us too preoccupied with our thoughts to engage much in conversation.

  For the rest of the afternoon I paced the streets of London. As e
vening fell I found myself walking through St James’s Park on my way towards the Diogenes Club. I shivered when I passed that spot where the Albino had attacked me; it was here all my adventures with Lady Beatrice began so many months earlier. Fortunately, there were no assailants lying in wait this evening.

  Mycroft and I dined together and I laid the Lady’s difficulty before him. Though not interested in domestic matters, as he would term them, my brother has an exceptional ability to see to the heart of the problem. To my surprise he was already familiar with Lady Beatrice’s predicament.

  “I know her quite well, Sherlock,” he said. “Indeed, I have the pleasure of meeting Lady Beatrice on a few occasions. Once at a dinner for the French ambassador, and twice at the Palace when she and I were invited to dine with the family. She is Her Majesty’s godchild, you know. In fact, she was named for the queen’s youngest daughter, Princess Beatrice.”

  “Yes, yes. But surely the queen will not countenance so unpleasant a union between her goddaughter and that oaf, Summerville. He is grotesque, Mycroft. As dangerous a ruffian as ever stalked the streets of Whitechapel.”

  “And Lady Beatrice is twenty-seven,” he replied. “Moreover she is an independent thinker.”

  “What has that to do with anything?”

  “The queen is old, Sherlock. Though the news has not been made public, she is ill; I doubt she will see many more years - even without Porlock’s assistance.”

  “Yes, but-”

  “The Queen does not like loose ends. She believes all young women should be married, particularly those who have attracted her notice. While Sir Benjamin Jacoby lived, Lady Beatrice was secure. Her father would not see her shackled to an imbecile or a fortune hunter. But the queen knows only that the girl has not married and here is - in the queen’s eyes anyway - a perfectly sound proposal.”

  “You cannot let this happen, Mycroft. The girl will be dead in six months if she has to marry that villain.”

  “It is out of my hands, Sherlock.”

  “But surely... The queen will listen to you, Mycroft. Or if you are so unwilling to speak to her perhaps you can arrange for me to do so?”

  “Absolutely not. I forbid it. I mean it, Sherlock. The queen’s health is too delicate for such an audience. She cannot be distressed by this melodrama.”

  “Melodrama! Mycroft, a young woman’s life is at stake.”

  But he would hear none of it.

  November 23rd, 1897

  Very unexpectedly this afternoon, Watson returned home.

  “My dear fellow, I am delighted to see you,” I exclaimed. “Why did you not let me know you were coming?”

  “It was rather spur of the moment,” he said, dropping his bag on the floor and sagging into the armchair.

  “What happened? Your brother was much improved when last we spoke but you were planning on staying a little longer.”

  “True, true,” he said. “Once he turned the corner he mended with great speed and I... could not think of my friend Sherlock Holmes in London, all alone, and at the mercy of violent men.”

  “A lovely sentiment to be sure,” I said. “And I’m sure your quarrel with your sister-in-law had nothing to do with your sudden departure from Scotland.”

  He shot me a look. “Why do you think I quarrelled with Bertha?”

  “Because you always do. To tell the truth, I wonder that anyone can tolerate that woman’s company... But there, it’s none of my affair. Suffice it to say I am very pleased to see you. Does Mrs Hudson know you’re back? She’ll set a big table for you to celebrate.”

  “I saw her when I came in. I’m surprised you did not hear me.”

  “I was asleep,” I admitted. “I was keeping watch until very late last night.”

  “Over Porlock’s house?”

  “No, over a house in Wimpole Street.”

  I told him about Lady Beatrice’s encounters with Wallace Summerville and concluded, “I was afraid he might return and so last night I kept an eye on the place. By four o’clock I decided it was safe to come home but, I confess, I was in a state of such vexation it took me until after dawn to get to sleep.”

  “My dear fellow, you must go back to bed. No? Well... When does Stevens return from Southampton?”

  “This afternoon. But I hear from Lestrade that he has been accepted into the metropolitan force. In just a few weeks he must leave his current position and Lady Beatrice will be utterly at the mercy of those insufferable Summervilles.”

  “It’s insupportable, Holmes. A woman’s life is so little valued in our society. But there must surely be a solution. Could she leave the country?”

  “Abandon her home? And for how long?”

  “Well... the queen cannot live for ever. She is a good age and you tell me her health is not the best. A king may be more sympathetic. Lady Beatrice could return when there is a new monarch on the throne.”

  “I cannot see her agreeing to abandoning her home and being driven out by this creature. She has people who depend upon her... I can suggest it to her of course, but I do not see that as a reasonable option.”

  “Can the police not help?”

  “I spoke with Lestrade and Gregson last night. That is how I learned of Stevens’ happy news before the young man himself. At my request, they will place a man outside her house in Wimpole Street.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  “Perhaps. I have no great faith in underpaid public servants, Watson. You and I know only too well how unreliable many of them are. Of all the people working Lady Beatrice’s home, other than the soon to depart Stevens, only one is male: Mr Fallon, her late father’s valet. He is a man of some age and I doubt he’d be much match against the wiry and savage Summerville.”

  “You say she has bruises, though; could she not bring charges against him? He can hardly harangue her when he is in custody, and it might make him a less attractive candidate to the Queen.”

  I thought about that. “I will suggest it to her. I rather doubt that she will though; there is that family pride to consider. I suspect she would deem it a matter of distress for the queen. Besides, there is the likelihood of repercussions against her aunt.”

  “You’ll think of something, old man,” Watson said. “Why don’t you go back to bed for a while and sleep on it?”

  November 24th, 1898

  As Watson suggested, I slept on this unpleasant situation Lady Beatrice faces, but badly. I awoke in time for dinner in a querulous mood. There are too many random pieces of information all fighting for attention in my brain. I confess, I am irked at having to devote even moments to the safety of a privileged young woman. Then I remind myself that Lady Beatrice, as Jack, saved my life and I am chagrined.

  I picked up my violin, disconsolately I confess, and started to play a sad piece by Schubert when from below I heard the doorbell ring. I continued to play but my attention was riveted by the light footsteps coming up the stair. As I completed the last movement I turned at last to see Lady Beatrice standing in my doorway.

  “You play very well,” she said.

  “I misfingered the last movement,” I said.

  “Yes. I distracted you.”

  Watson sat in his usual chair by the fire looking from one of us to the other. Then, belatedly, realised his manners and rose to his feet.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Beatrice,” he said. “Do please sit down by the fire. It’s rather a filthy evening. Shall I have Mrs Hudson bring up some coffee?”

  “Do, please, Watson,” I said. While he went to do just that I sat in my seat facing the Lady. “Now then,” I said. “You need my help?”

  She was very pale and the flush that rose to her cheeks suggested illness rather than comeliness. Despite that she met my eyes calmly and said, “You are, of course, correct, Mr Holmes.”

&nb
sp; “I am at your completely disposal. If it is in my power to serve you I shall.”

  “Stevens received a letter this morning telling him his application to join the metropolitan police force has been approved. He is to report in January.”

  “You will feel his absence keenly,” I began. Then, seeing her expression, I added, “But it is not that which troubles you. He has offered to forgo his position and remain in your employ.”

  “He has. He is tremendously loyal and honourable, but of course I cannot permit such a sacrifice. He has much to offer our police force and, besides, he has hopes to marry sometime next year. I cannot possibly allow him to give up his long-held ambition.”

  “No. No I quite see that.”

  “The thing is, Mr Holmes, after Stevens leaves I need to be able to defend myself. That is the reason why I came...”

  “Yes?” I waited. I was almost afraid of what she might ask me but her request, when it came, was not what I feared and yet it alarmed me almost as much.

  “I wondered, Mr Holmes, can you tell me where I might be able to get a gun?”

  17

  I vow, for a moment I could not catch my breath. When I could speak I said, “Since I first met you, Lady Beatrice, you have shown a remarkable talent for surprising me. I was not expecting that.”

  “I need to be able to protect myself. It is only a matter of time until Summerville’s behaviour becomes... dangerous.”

  “You cannot believe a firearm is the answer? Is it not more likely that he would overpower you and take the weapon from you? You yourself might be the victim.”

  “What else am I to do?” she cried. She rose and paced the floor.

  “You could leave the country,” I began.

  “Out of the question. I have responsibilities here, Mr Holmes. I have two houses, my father’s business interests, and a number of people who are dependent upon me. Also, I want to be on hand in case my aunt should ever need me.”