“Oh, this is sounding better and better. How do we apply for a place? Will we be able to speak to this Mrs. Woods and see the establishment for ourselves?”
“That I don’t know, miss. I do know you’ll have to be lucky to get in. Mrs. Woods doesn’t have rooms to let very often. Once shesaid that her gentlemen only leave when they marry or die—and they don’t seem willing to do either!”
They all laughed at that. “Too bad. The place sounds perfect for my brother.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. There are plenty of good places near here. But Mrs. Woods does run the tightest ship, she does.”
“Would you happen to know how much a set of two rooms costs?”
“That would depend. The house isn’t divided up all the same. Dr. Vickery’s place has three rooms and a private bath and I heard from Mrs. Woods’s girls that he pays two pounds eleven a week. Your brother can probably get two rooms on the second floor for half that much.”
“That seems reasonable. Have there been any vacancies recently?”
At establishments such as Mrs. Woods’s, the bills were usually settled weekly. If Myron Finch had been missing since the previous Sunday—as Lady Ingram believed him to be—by now Mrs. Woods would assume that he had vacated the premises.
“No, I don’t believe she’s had any vacancies recently.”
Did this mean he wasn’t missing, or was Mrs. Woodsthatsubtle in her advertising methods? “Superior” residences were quieter about their rooms for let, preferring to maintain an air ofnotbeing available to the public.
The waitress departed to look after other patrons. Mrs. Watson let Miss Holmes have two uninterrupted minutes to enjoy her miniature éclair before suggesting, “You could simply call on him. You are his sister, after all.”
“I would rather not publicize my involvement. Most likely something unforeseen has come up. When conditions change and Mr. Finch is once again able to contact Lady Ingram, they might interact to a greater extent than they have in a very long time. I don’twant it to come out that Charlotte Holmes visited Myron Finch immediately after Lady Ingram called on Sherlock Holmes. That might be enough for her to put two and two together.”
“What will we do, then?”
Miss Holmes considered a tiny, boat-shaped tart filled with a glossy dark mousse, the last remaining delicacy on her plate. “Do you think Mr. Mears might already be back?”
The servants had Sundays off—or in any case, the hours after church. Some employers preferred that they be gone from the house if they weren’t rendering actual service. Mrs. Watson gave her staff the freedom to go out and enjoy the city, or to stay in and spend their time reading in bed or socializing in the servants’ hall.
Mrs. Watson had met Mr. Mears, her butler, during her days in the theater, and though he had worked more behind the scenes, he had also acted in a number of productions.
By the time they reached home, Mr. Mears had indeed returned from his outing to Kensington Gardens, where he had spent a pleasurable afternoon sketching the fountains at the head of the Long Water.
Together, they decided that he ought to take on the role of Mr. Gillespie, Sir Henry’s solicitor, visiting Mr. Finch to inquire whether the latter had heard from his wayward half sister. After a short but intense rehearsal, Mr. Mears, now sporting a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, departed for his command performance, with the understanding that the matter was to be kept strictly confidential.
The drawing room fell quiet. Mrs. Watson felt self-conscious. Earlier, there had been photographs taken of her in various stage costumes on the mantel, the display shelves, and the occasion tables. They had been put up when she realized that Miss Holmes would soon find out where she lived—and that she had better match therealities of her house to its description in the tall tale she’d told the younger woman: that she couldn’t find a lady’s companion because respectable candidates took one look at those stage photographs and fled.
But of course she’d had to take those down when Penelope returned. Poor girl had never seen most of them—young people had a remarkable lack of interest in the lives of their elders, preferring them to be like the walls of a house: holding up the roof and keeping out the elements, but otherwise completely ignorable.
The absence of the photographs, of course, underscored the fact that Miss Holmes had not been told the truth, from the beginning, about Mrs. Watson’s involvement in her life. Had still not been told much of anything, though she had no doubt already deduced every last detail.
Was it possible that she was angry at Lord Ingram? Was that why she had decided to help his wife? Mrs. Watson would never attribute malice to Miss Holmes, but sometimes anger, especially anger of the unacknowledged variety, seeped beneath other decisions. All other decisions.
“A penny for your thoughts, Miss Holmes,” she heard herself say.
Miss Holmes, who had been standing by the window, looking out to the park, turned around halfway. “I was pondering the system of territoriality among street merchants—the division of spots, the length of tenancy, and the rules of succession.”
The hawkers? There were always a half dozen of them selling boiled sweets and ginger beer near the entrance to the park. “What I meant is, have you any thoughts on Mr. Mears’s chances of success?”
“He is certain to learn something.”
“Enough to answer Lady Ingram’s query outright?”
“That we will know soon enough.”
“What if this case doesn’t resolve itself quickly?” Mrs. Watsongave voice to her true fear. “What if we must come face to face with Lord Ingram while still carrying on this investigation, on behalf of his wife, for the whereabouts of the man whose existence is the cause of his marital infelicity?”
“The cause of his marital infelicity was his haste and lack of self-knowledge,” said Miss Holmes quietly. “The revelation of his true parentage brought on a paroxysm of self-doubts. Instead of facing it, he opted for marriage and fatherhood, believing they would erase the doubts—highly unlikely that any marriage contracted under such mistaken assumptions would have led to domestic contentment.”
