The Confidential Casebook of Sherlock Holmes (26 page)

“No, because like all beautiful women she is overconfident, and in this case the admiration of a very highly placed Personage
would serve to keep her safe, or so she thinks. She is wrong, of course.”

“Holmes, I'm freezing . . .”

I
nside the welcome warmth of a small nearby coffeehouse we loosened our coats, placed our hats on the shelf under our chairs, and over the coffee's steam and the smoke from Holmes's cigarette I prodded him to continue his character description of the woman who was his client of the moment.

“I was talking about how unaware she is of the depth of the trouble which threatens her,” Holmes replied. “She is hiding behind her previous successes and she will go on hiding behind them until I can pry her loose from her delusions. You see, Watson, in order to understand Irene you must realize that her beauty is the currency of her life: It's what she has always used to buy everything she has ever wanted and it has never failed her. And now she's using it (and this time unwisely) to enjoy the favours of a very highly placed Personage. Why not? Her personal history tells her that she never fails, so she employs her wit, charm and beauty (and for this particular conquest a talent for playing cards and an eye for horses as well)—all irresistible to him. Small wonder his people are worried, eh, Watson? He has already been cited more than once in the divorce courts. Why does he persist in persisting, as it were, only with married women? His mother is quite naturally furious. His wife turns her eyes away like Patience on a Pedestal while
I'affaire
Norton is endlessly discussed in the society pages of newspapers such as the one I examined this very morning. It told the world that he and she are seen everywhere together: at the Cowes Regatta, weekending at Sandringham or Blenheim, the races at Ascot—Truthfully I cannot blame his mother for her attitude towards the woman.”

“But you did agree to accept her as your client, therefore you have no alternative.”

“And wouldn't take it if I had. The woman has rare spirit.
Right or wrong, she deserves support because of her courage and the fact that she is so far out-numbered in this battle; she faces such overwhelming forces. Well, you and I know what and who they are, Watson, and we know she cannot win. But yes, I believe I can still extricate her from her trouble without a public disgrace, although she cannot maintain this ‘friendship' . . . she's over-matched and must be brought to admit it. For once she'll have to bow to a stronger power.”

From one of his coat's great square pockets he withdrew his notebook with pencil attached. “A discreet ad in the personal column of the papers should bring about a meeting with his mother's loyal emissary, don't you agree?” He was writing busily, holding the notepad at an angle which allowed me to read it as he scribbled:

Tall dark gentleman who enjoys a walk in the park around ten
A.M
. and is in sympathy with the dealings of patriotic Lady with military men, nimble-fingered maids and urchins-for-hire seeks meeting with above-mentioned patriotic Lady. Object: to relieve her and Others of problem arising from unsuitable Friendship. Perfect satisfaction and discretion guaranteed if face-to-face meeting can be arranged. No written response necessary.

He pocketed his pencil and glanced over at me. “I hope this will bring results.”

“I'd almost wager on it,” I assured him.

“I
t went much as I had foreseen,” he told me a few days later, rubbing his lean hands together and looking somewhat smug. “Veni, vidi, vici, as Caesar would have put it. Not that the encounter was comparable to the Gallic wars, perhaps, because to tell you the truth the lady was—well, in all respects a lady. The threats were real
enough but our discussion was courteous and we found ourselves in accord at the finish.”

He went on to relate how the black and yellow carriage approached him as he walked in the park. He knew it instantly and also Lady Fitzbarry, who descended from it to join him on the walkway. The carriage moved slowly along the drive behind them as they talked, she first:

“They—that is, the Family—are all of one mind. This affair must cease at once. The Empire must not be witness to yet another fall from grace. The lady in this case could even be dangerous to the Succession.”

“In what sense, madam?” Holmes inquired. (“Although I knew the answer quite well, Watson.”)

“In the sense, Mr. Holmes, that she seems to hold the key to all his preferences, and his infatuation with her has become so obvious that he is now publicly ignoring the responsibilities of his station. As for her, she has been given increasingly pointed warnings and has chosen to ignore them.”

“Is it possible that she does not connect her own actions with your ‘warnings'?”

Lady Fitzbarry slanted a scornful glance at him. “Apparently we have a higher respect for her acuity than you do.
She knows!
And still she's made no retreat from her position nor seems inclined to do so. Frankly, sir, we cannot allow it to continue.”

“I think I understand, madam. What do you suggest that I advise my client?”

“You may tell her that the Family sees no recourse but to use its influence here and abroad. Believe me when I say that her way will not be easy. The great opera stages of Europe will never welcome her again. The Society which she values so highly will now be closed to her. She's gone too far in her belief in her own power, and this arrogance cannot be tolerated. She is about to feel the effects of true Power. We are all reluctant to use harsh measures and we regret the necessity, but—”

“Are you so certain of the necessity, Lady Fitzbarry? Why must the Power you mention stoop to crushing one individual? I can think of alternatives to be considered.”

“Can you? What would you propose?”

“It seems to me,” Holmes said slowly, “that if the lady in question were to take her personal attractions elsewhere, to another scene, another place, in fact to another country . . .?”

She stared directly at the path before her. “And all contact between the parties would cease permanently?”

“Permanently, but with the assurance that my client would remain safe from any damage whatsoever to her career or to her reputation now or in the future.”

“That might be acceptable,” she said, and then, “Very well, then.”

“And—?”

“There is no ‘and.' If she abides by these demands (and make no mistake, sir, they are demands, not requests), her life can continue on its present course—except in England. Here she will be hence-forth persona non grata. The end. Finis. She has brought it upon herself.”

“With his help, madam . . .”

Her eyes met his and she bent her head slightly and signalled to the carriage with the same motion. A moment later Lady Fitzbarry was gone.

. . .
“S
o you may see how well I had gauged the situation, Watson! The best I could have hoped for was that there be no spiteful desire on their part for vengeance, no need to ruin her future.”

“But still—” I said doubtfully. “How did Mrs. Norton take it?” I asked, thinking of the proud high-held head and the independent spirit of the woman.

He rubbed his chin. “She was shaken, but she took it surprisingly well,” he told me seriously. “And yet, I shouldn't say ‘surprisingly.'
When a champion shows quality it should surprise no one, and she is—you may judge for yourself, Watson, for if I'm not mistaken she's on her way up our stairs at this very moment, or my faith in her punctuality is ill placed.”

He was turning the doorknob as her knock sounded. “Dependable as ever, I see, Mrs. Norton,” he greeted her. “Won't you come in and be seated?”

But she remained standing in the doorway, straight and tall. “No, Mr. Holmes. I requested these few minutes with you only to offer a few more words of appreciation for your efforts. I fear that the last time I saw you my—my—humiliation was so complete that I failed to do justice to them. To your efforts, I mean. Your results were not what I had hoped for, but after a few weeks or months have passed I'm certain that my pride will have recovered sufficiently for me to fully appreciate them. Even now, while my self-confidence is so badly mauled, my more rational side can and does thank you most sincerely. With the handicap you had working against you (and yes, I do mean my own lack of frankness), as well as the Power aligned against you, you managed to salvage a great deal of my life to go on with. In your own way you are—incomparable.”

“Madam, I thank you and I return the compliment with full confidence that wherever you go, your life will continue to be a pleasant and successful one.”

She smiled. “So, then, the time has come to bid one another good-bye, Incomparable Sherlock Holmes.” She extended her hand, which he shook, and nodded to me, then the door to 221B Baker Street closed behind her.

A
few hours later I was struck with the irreverent thought that today must be Ladies' Day at this same 221B Baker Street, for when the next knock sounded on our door, it was opened to frame the figure of an angry Lady Fitzbarry. A more icily furious woman I had
never encountered in all my life. I am not anxious to repeat the experience, even though I was not the one on whom she poured what some have referred to as “vials of wrath.”

She swept into the room before Holmes could invite her to enter, and her accusing index finger pointed so directly at his heart that he took an involuntary step backwards.

“You!” The finger still threatened. “Was
this
your advice to your client? Do you own no conscience whatsoever? What sort of a man are you, to bear me such spite, such deep-held malice simply because I won the honours in the bargain we struck in the park?”

Holmes raised a hand, his face pale with his own resentment at this attack. “I assure you—” he began, but she broke in hotly.

“Oh, yes, assure me, assure me! My God, man, much good may that do me now! All I know is that only days ago my husband had no thoughts of this woman, none at all, and now, at this very moment, they are aboard the Dover-to-Calais—”

“Who?”
Holmes interrupted, but I knew by his look that he had guessed.

“Who but that—
creature
—that singer or whatever she calls herself. As if you didn't know who! ‘Off together for a lengthy tour of the Continent,' his note said, and may the boat go to the bottom of the Channel with the both of them!” She was flushed and trembling with temper.

“Madam,” Holmes said expressionlessly, “I know nothing of any of this. I had nothing to do with it. Their—plans—might well have been made some time ago.”

She glared at him. “Impossible.”

“Why so?”

“Because Lord Fitzbarry knew with whom she was connected, and what loyal Englishman would have interfered under those circumstances? No, he would have never—but since your meddling fingers have stirred the waters, all that has changed and now—he's gone! Your fault! Your fault!”

“My ‘meddling fingers,' ” he said coldly, “have merely served
your own purposes, madam, as you outlined them to me. If the outcome is different from what we both expected it is none of my doing and I refuse to accept the blame. Therefore, Lady Fitzbarry, although I deeply regret the distress this has caused you—”

“Does it not occur, even to one such as you, how ignoble a deed it is to sunder a marriage for such a spiteful personal reason?”

Holmes had heard enough. Without another word, he walked to the door and opened it significantly.

For a long moment she stood there, indecisive, and then she threw him one last hateful look and departed.

He closed the door and leaned against it with his back to me. His shoulders were shaking and I stood watching him, shocked to see him display his emotions so openly. Another man might very well have felt and shown signs of stress after such a scene, but I had thought my friend more in control of his own nerves.

But when, after a moment, he turned towards me, I saw his face alight with the deepest amusement he had ever revealed to me. I was startled, and naturally Holmes, being Holmes, caught my expression. He clapped me on the shoulder, chuckling aloud.

“Watson,” he said, “was there ever to your knowledge another so wilful, so charming and so deceitful as Irene Adler Norton? I tell you, wherever she goes the woman can upset the world around her. And mine also, my friend. Mine also. At least temporarily,” he added, still chuckling.

And throwing himself into his armchair he pulled out his pipe and leaned back. “But you realize, Watson, that this is the second time that this same female has played me one of her sly tricks. I find myself embarrassed. ‘Fool me once and shame on you. Fool me twice and shame on me!' Therefore spare my blushes, old friend, and keep this particular story to yourself, will you?”

I saw his point. I said I would and I have.