My Dearest Holmes (2 page)

'Then why did Miss D'Arcy not go to the police? Why come to you? I must say, Holmes, this sounds like an open-and-shut case of a missing person to me.'

'Patience, my dear Watson, patience. Have the goodness to examine this envelope.'

He leant over my shoulder and turned it towards my plate.

'Read it. Examine it. Let me hear what you deduce from it.'

It was addressed, like the telegram, to Miss Maria Kirkpatrick. The handwriting was large and flourishing. The envelope itself was battered and creased, as if it had been screwed up and later smoothed out again. I said as much to Holmes, who gave me a patronising murmur of assent.

'Who is this from, then?' I said impatiently. 'Miss Kirkpatrick's mother again?'

Holmes, who had sidled round the table and taken another piece of dry toast to munch upon, had his mouth full and did not reply immediately; and in the interval I was suddenly struck by the realisation that the handwriting was familiar to me. I gave an exclamation of astonishment and bent to examine the envelope more closely.

'The looped "l" the Greek "e"...'I murmured.

Holmes stepped back from the table and surveyed me in surprise, his head on one side.

'My dear boy, I begin to have hopes of you after all. As you observe, this is not a woman's handwriting; it was therefore not written by Miss Kirkpatrick's mother. And yet there is a definite link between the letter which this envelope contained and the telegram which you have just read.

'The envelope was found by our client Miss D'Arcy immediately after her companion's disappearance. She recognised it as one of a number of envelopes received by Miss Kirkpatrick from time to time, and always treated in a most secretive manner; she would never disclose the contents of these letters or the identity of her correspondent, and according to Miss D'Arcy, always destroyed both letter and envelope after reading it. This envelope, however, having been crumpled into a ball, was inadvertently laid to one side instead.'

Again I perused the bold flourishing hand, and knit my brows as I tried to remember where I could possibly have seen it before. Someone, somewhere, had written me out a name and address in just such a hand--the lines of the address on the envelope recalled it.

'According to our client,' continued Holmes, picking up a third piece of toast and putting it down again, 'Miss Kirkpatrick received this particular letter some three days before the telegram, but contrary to her usual custom she did not destroy it. Upon receiving the telegram, she apparently rushed upstairs to her room, took the letter from the envelope, glanced several times from letter to telegram, pocketed the letter, screwed up the envelope, and hurried from the house leaving the telegram and crushed envelope upon the table. This our client has gleaned from the housemaid, who was in the room at the time, and whose presence Miss Kirkpatrick overlooked in her haste and distress. We have no reason to doubt the housemaid's word; hence, my dear Watson, we may conclude that the letter and the telegram emanate from the same source. The fact that Miss Kirkpatrick did not immediately destroy this particular letter indicated it contained some important material to which she knew she might wish to refer. She had, according to Miss D'Arcy, been much preoccupied since receiving it.'

I pushed the offending envelope to the other side of my plate.

'I thought you said it was a man's handwriting and was therefore not written by Mrs Kirkpatrick,' I said casually, thinking it wiser for the moment not to reveal the familiarity of the handwriting to me, since I could not yet place it.

Holmes gave a patronising sigh.

'So I did, but that is not to say that it does not emanate from Mrs Kirkpatrick,' he said. 'I can think of a thousand explanations, the most obvious being that she had someone address her letters for her. But we must not be too hasty. It is a capital mistake to theorise before one is in full possession of the facts.'

He returned to his chair and took up his coffee, now cold. He sipped at it without appearing to notice, and watched me as I examined the final document upon the table. It was another envelope, this one containing a letter, and addressed to Miss Anne D'Arcy. It had been delivered by hand. Inside was a single sheet of paper, on which a short note was written in a firm, round hand. It was dated the 17th of January.

My dearest A -

Please do not worry about me, for I am quite safe and well, and will return home as soon as I am able.

I have been called away on an urgent matter, and promise to explain all when I return.

Above all, I beg you not to try and find me, and especially not to inform the police. It is a delicate matter, and you will soon know all.

You must believe, my dearest, that I am safe and well, and will be with you as soon as I can.

All my love,
M.K.

'You will remark,' said Holmes, 'that the letter was written in haste, and in some agitation; see how the lady repeats herself; and the ink has been hastily blotted. Also it has been delivered by hand, to avoid a postmark; but I think we can assume that it comes from Kensington, since that is the postmark upon the telegram.'

'I see, 'I said, folding the note and replacing it in its envelope. 'And Miss D' Arcy presumably does not feel satisfied to wait for her companion's return as this letter urges her to do?'

'It has been five days, with no further communication. Rather than go to the police, since Miss Kirkpatrick especially forbids it, she has approached me, to see if I can make discreet enquiries, and thereby set her mind at rest at least. She naturally finds that her dearest friend--you will gather from the note that they are on intimate terms--has kept her mother's existence a secret, and that communication with her has produced such a situation of panic, very worrying.'

'Yes, well, I can see that,'I said slowly. I was still puzzling over the handwriting. I bit into the piece of toast and marmalade I had prepared, and found it to be so cold as to be inedible. I replaced it on my plate in disgust, and looked across at Holmes, who was lying back in his chair lazily blowing smoke-rings.

'You have scarcely eaten any breakfast!' I admonished, annoyed also that he had prevented me from concentrating upon mine.

'Never mind, my dear fellow,' he replied, 'this case will do me more good than twenty breakfasts. As a medical man, you will soon see that I am right.'

I sighed, and wiped my fingers on my napkin. I realised I felt far from well, and wondered whether it had in fact been wise to tackle my bacon with such gusto.

'I am going to dress,' I announced with dignity, rising from my chair and crossing to the door.

'Yes, do, there's a good fellow,' said Holmes. 'You don't want to greet our client in your dressing gown.'

'Why,' I cried, turning back, 'when are you expecting her?'

'At any moment,' he replied, glancing at the clock upon the mantelpiece. 'We arranged that she should return here at ten.'

I raised my eyebrows. 'Then why do you not change out of your dressing gown?' I asked.

Holmes chuckled. 'I fully intend to. It will be a simple matter to remove it. Unlike you, my dear Watson, I am fully dressed beneath.'

I gained the privacy of my room as speedily as I could, and slammed the door behind me.

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II
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I
N MY HASTE to wash, dress and shave in the few minutes available, I wrenched a button from my waistcoat, broke a shoelace, and cut myself just beneath the left cheekbone. Surveying myself mournfully in the glass, I tried to create an injured, noble air; but the distinctly pink tinge to what were normally the whites of my eyes, and the shadows beneath them, made this difficult to maintain convincingly.

I had heard, in the midst of my sartorial struggles, the entry of Mrs Hudson into the room below and her subsequent retreat with the breakfast tray. Now I heard her stately tread upon the stair again, followed by lighter footsteps, and the murmur of feminine voices on the landing. Then came the expected knock upon the door, and Sherlock Holmes' languid response.

'Miss Anne D'Arcy,' announced our landlady.

'Ah, Miss D'Arcy,' I heard him say, 'so good of you to call again. Pray take a seat.'

I waited for the sound of the door closing, and for Mrs Hudson's retreating footsteps, before descending myself.

Miss Anne D'Arcy was seated in the basket chair in which Holmes always placed his visitors, a large black umbrella planted squarely at her side like a hefty spear. She was dressed in a dark tailored suit and hat, which I had to admit contrasted very well with her fair complexion and fine light eyes. I was rather startled, however, to read in those eyes a look of amused recognition, which confused me greatly, as I had no recognition of having ever seen her before.

Holmes, immaculate in his frock coat, sat in the armchair opposite.

'This is Dr Watson,' said he, 'who has been an invaluable friend and a help to me on a great many of my cases. I trust that you will have no objection to his remaining and taking part in our interview, Miss D'Arcy?'

'No objection whatever,' replied the young lady, inclining courteously in my direction. Again I caught the amused look. I was unsure what to make of it. My own observation of her, and my knowledge of her circumstances as related to me by Holmes, made me think it unlikely that her expression was intended to be flirtatious. However, I was unwilling to take any chances. I took my seat with gravity, placing myself next to Holmes, and donned as best as I could the professional, impersonal expression that I affected when engaged in my practice. Miss D'Arcy, looking properly chastened, proceeded to confirm in more detail her story of the previous night. This morning's post had brought no word from her friend, and as well as feeling naturally very worried for her, she was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery thrown up by her disappearance.

'Maria has been receiving these letters for years,' she said, 'at the average rate of one every three months or so. At first I used to tease her about them; then I became annoyed that she would not give me so much as a clue as to whom they were from. But it has remained the one point on which she has been absolutely inflexible, throughout our long acquaintance and intimacy. She simply refuses to disclose the name of her correspondent.

'As time went by, and as I observed that the letters had no adverse affect on her, beyond the secrecy which they inspired, I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie, and ceased questioning her upon the matter. You can imagine how surprised I was, therefore, to discover that they came to all appearances only from her mother, who she had always given me to understand had died when Maria was only sixteen years of age. I can only assume now that she was lying--though why she should think it necessary to keep from me the fact that she had a mother, I just cannot imagine.'

Here she paused with a sigh, and remained for some time gazing pensively at the Persian slipper which Holmes had restored to its place by the fire, as if trying to evince some clue from it as to her friend's behaviour.

The silence was broken by Holmes, who, leaning forward with every appearance of interest, enquired, 'How long have you known Miss Kirkpatrick, Miss D'Arcy?'

'All in all, for nearly eight years.'

'And for how much of that time would you say that you have been on intimate terms?'

Miss D'Arcy raised an amused eyebrow.

'We have shared a house for the last six years.'

'On intimate terms?'

'Yes, Mr Holmes.'

I saw that my friend had no idea of the dangerous waters into which he was drifting.

'And you never had occasion, during those six years, to meet members of Miss Kirkpatrick's family?'

'Never. Her mother, as I said, I had always assumed to be dead, and her father, I understand, lives in retirement in Sussex, where he is cared for by her elder sister, his second wife having died. At least, that is what I always understood; now I do not know what to believe! She also has a married brother. I am not sure where he lives. None of the family would welcome my acquaintance, and I do not know whether they even know of my existence.'

Holmes rested his chin upon his hands, and raised his eyebrows.

'Indeed. Why is that?'

I raised my eyes to the ceiling and amused myself by counting the cobwebs overlooked by Mrs Hudson during her weekly inspection of the rooms.

Miss D'Arcy paused before answering. I must say I thought she handled it very well.

'I assume,' she said cautiously, 'that my circumstances--that is to say, my background--my family background, the relative poverty of my childhood and upbringing, would cause some embarrassment and disapproval. The Kirkpatricks were apparently one of the foremost Sussex families, and laid great store by their social position.'

Brilliant. I almost uttered the ejaculation. By some instinct, she had touched on just the subject to inspire my friend's socialist tendencies. He loathed every form of Society with his whole Bohemian soul.

'My dear Miss D'Arcy,' he murmured, 'I am so sorry. I did not mean to cause you the slightest embarrassment. I trust you have never allowed the attitude of such ignorant people to distress you in the slightest.'