In Sherlock's Shadow (Mrs Hudson & Sherlock Holmes Book 2)

by Liz Hedgecock

  I smoothed the paper, refolded it, and got up. I was about to replace it on the mat when the drawing room door opened. ‘Oh!’ Ada and I both jumped. ‘What are you doing with the newspaper, Bessie?’ She sounded surprised.

  ‘I was looking for milady’s embroidery, and then I heard the paper and went to get it.’ I handed it to her. ‘I forgot the newspaper isn’t my job any more.’

  Ada put it on the table. ‘I’ll get to it when I’ve finished opening the rooms. You didn’t find the embroidery, then?’

  ‘I’d only gone into the breakfast room when the paper came. I didn’t want to disturb you. It isn’t in the drawing room, is it?’

  ‘Not unless she’s hidden it.’ Ada smiled.

  ‘Oh well, in that case I must have made a mistake. Sorry I made you jump.’ I went back to the connecting door, and took a moment to compose myself before returning to the kitchen.

  Cookie was busy with breakfast and Susan was standing in the scullery doorway, drying the dishes and staring at me. I could not stand to be in the room with her, and especially not in my current state. ‘I have a stocking to mend,’ I said. ‘I will do it upstairs, out of your way.’

  There was a little cold water left in the bedroom jug. I washed the traces of newsprint from my hands, and bathed my face. In the mirror I looked the same as ever, except that there was a touch more colour in my cheeks; but inside my mind was racing, my heart was banging in my chest, and blood sang in my ears. I felt as if I might faint any minute. I sat on the bed and leaned forward, and gradually the fog ceased to churn around my brain.

  Once I intercept milady’s letter, I thought, I must leave before it is missed. Having seen what had happened to Susan, I did not dare to imagine what milady might do to someone who interfered with her own plans. Once I was back in London and respectable Mrs Hudson again I would be safe, so long as no-one tracked me to Baker Street. I needed enough time to get to London before the hue and cry was raised. In fact, probably the best thing to do with the letter, once I had it, was to get on the next train to London and deliver it personally. That would give me the start I needed. I sighed with relief that I had a plan, and hunted for a stocking to darn.

  I had mended my stocking before I heard Sir William’s heavy tread on the stairs. There was no clock in the room; but I estimated he was a full half-hour later than usual. Had milady opened her oyster? I put away my mending. Perhaps it was time to offer more help in the kitchen.

  I found Ada sitting over a cup of tea with Cookie. ‘Aren’t you waiting on?’ I asked, as I took a seat.

  Ada shook her head. ‘Sir said not to. He only wanted tea and toast, anyway.’

  Cookie tutted. ‘It’s not right,’ she said, shaking her head.

  Ada frowned too. ‘He didn’t look best pleased to see me,’ she said. ‘I think he was expecting someone else.’

  ‘I suppose they get used to things, just as we do,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ada, watchful. ‘I suppose they do.’ She smirked. ‘Tom’ll be bored of waiting. He had the trap out at the usual time and Sir William’s a good forty minutes behind.’ She was addressing Cookie, but glanced sidelong at me.

  ‘A gentleman’s time is his own perogative,’ said Cookie, sternly, and poured herself another cup.

  Ada sniggered when the breakfast-room door opened, then closed with a sharp snap. ‘There he goes,’ she said. ‘I’d better go and help him put his coat on.’

  Cookie leaned over to me once she had gone. ‘Don’t pay attention to Ada,’ she whispered, although as Cookie was rather deaf it was a loud whisper. ‘She likes things regular.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  Cookie sighed. ‘I’ll be glad when things are back to normal, that I will. It’s been too topsy-turvy lately for my liking.’

  We listened to the rattle of the front-door bolts. Outside Blaze neighed, impatient to go. Sir William was on his way to London again.

  And milady’s bell rang not two minutes after the carriage had left.

  CHAPTER 39

  ‘Good morning, Mouse,’ sang milady. ‘It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? Lay out my pale-blue silk, with everything to match, and run me a bath.’ Her eyes sparkled, and the two high spots of colour I had seen on her cheeks the evening before were still there.

  ‘Would you like a breakfast tray, milady?’ I asked. ‘Shall I ring, or go down?’

  Milady held up a finger. ‘Not yet. I’ll get ready first. It wouldn’t be fair of me to disturb the other servants so early, would it?’ She wagged the finger, and laughed.

  ‘Is it a special day, milady?’ I opened the wardrobe and drew out her blue silk, running my hand down the luxurious folds. It must be, to wear silk in the morning.

  ‘It is now,’ said Milady. ‘I am going to London to do some Christmas shopping, and you will attend me.’

  ‘To London, milady?’ I gaped. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, London, Mouse. You shall be a town mouse today and carry my parcels, so you had better put your best frock on too when you have finished with me.’

  ‘Yes, milady,’ I said, and went to run her bath. As the water gushed, I thought. Milady, clearly, had opened her oyster, and discovered a pearl which she planned to deliver in person. There would be no letter to intercept, as per Mr Poskitt’s instructions, but what could I do instead?

  The answer wafted from the rose-scented water. Get away somehow, and intercept her.

  I bided my time until I was applying milady’s jasmine perfume, while she admired herself in the mirror. ‘Milady, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but could I do some Christmas shopping too?’

  ‘You, Mouse?’ she laughed. ‘Well, I suppose so. I have private business to attend to first — a very particular present. A special order.’ She laughed. ‘You may do it then, Mouse. You can hardly expect me to attend you round the slop markets.’

  ‘Thank you, milady, you are very kind.’ I pinned up a last stray curl. ‘Shall I ring for your tray now?’

  ‘No, go downstairs and tell them, and at the same time you can ask them to keep the carriage waiting when it gets back. Oh, and bring the Bradshaw — the red train timetable. You’ll find it in Sir William’s desk.’ She patted her back hair and smiled at herself in the mirror.

  ‘A breakfast tray, at this time? What’s got into her?’ Cookie banged the tray onto the kitchen table.

  ‘The Christmas spirit,’ I said, smiling. ‘Milady is going shopping in London. Can someone ask Tom to wait the carriage when he returns, please?’

  ‘I’ll see to it.’ Cookie began to cut bread. ‘Will you wait for the tray?’

  ‘Could someone bring it up, please? I have to get ready too.’

  ‘What, are you going as well?’

  ‘Yes, to carry the parcels.’

  Something clattered on the scullery floor. ‘Susan!’ bellowed Cookie. ‘If you break another plate it’ll come out of your wages!’ She sighed. ‘I thought Janey was careless.’ She turned back to me. ‘Milady’ll have you loaded like a pack mule on the way home.’

  I found the Bradshaw in its usual place in Sir William’s desk and I took it up to milady. ‘Good,’ she said, patting it. ‘Now go and get ready. You have until I finish breakfast.’

  I fled to my room, removed my apron and cap, changed into my black dress, and pinned on my ‘best’ hat with the artificial flowers. Then I took my small stock of money from the toe of the stocking I kept in the drawer, and put it into my bag. I took my coat from the nail, and looked at the room — the two iron beds, the foxed mirror, the photo of my ‘husband’ —

  A tap at the door, and Susan entered.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I snapped, then felt a pang of guilt.

  Susan said nothing, and sat on the bed. ‘I saw you,’ she said.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ I stared at her. Her mobcap was slightly askew, her fringe crooked. ‘I don’t have time to listen to nonsense, I have to go to London with milady. I can’t believe you have the nerve to come up here, after �
��’ My hand went to my hat.

  ‘I saw you reading the paper through the breakfast-room keyhole.’ Susan’s blue eyes met mine. Yet they were not accusing, but clear as a child’s. ‘Milady told me you couldn’t hardly read.’

  I imagined the pair of them giggling over my stupidity. Now here I was, caught. ‘I was trying to read it —’

  ‘No you weren’t. You was reading properly.’ Susan paused, studying me. ‘I’m not stupid,’ she said. ‘And if you pretended not to be able to read, what else are you pretending?’

  My mind was spinning, trying to find a way out. I was so close, so close, and Susan could bring it down with a few words. ‘Susan, do you hate milady?’

  ‘Yes.’ Susan’s mouth twisted and her eyes were the hard, bright blue of sapphires. ‘I thought she liked me, really liked me, and she didn’t care a bit. She played favourites with you, and made me mad, and when I paid you back, she did — she did this.’ She touched the edge of her mobcap, carefully. ‘So yes, I hate her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Susan,’ I said.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ she said. ‘At least you’ve got some hair. But that isn’t why I’m here.’

  Milady would be breakfasting by now. ‘I must go soon,’ I said. ‘I can’t keep milady waiting.’

  ‘You ain’t really a maid, are you?’

  Susan’s expression seemed guileless. I decided to gamble. ‘Susan, what do you want most in the whole world?’

  ‘To have my hair back as it was.’ She fingered one of the straggling locks stitched to her cap. ‘And to pay back milady for what she did to me.’ The sneer which spoilt her pretty mouth showed me that the old Susan was still there.

  ‘Then if you keep quiet, Susan, and tell no one that you have seen me reading, or that I’m not really a maid, then I shall send you a golden wig from London, the best I can find.’

  She motioned me closer. ‘If you ain’t a maid, what are you?’ she murmured.

  My heart was thumping so loud that I feared milady would hear it. I swallowed, and looked at Susan. Would my bribe be enough? I cupped my hand carefully to her ear and whispered. ‘A Government spy.’

  Susan was silent for a moment. ‘On milady?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Then you’d best know this.’ And she cupped her hand to my ear, and whispered.

  ***

  Milady was halfway through a piece of toast when I returned. ‘About time, Mouse,’ she said, and put the half-eaten toast down. ‘Help me on with my things.’ I could hear the excitement in her voice. I obliged, hoping that any trembling on my part would be put down to my own anticipation of the treat. Milady’s eyes sparkled as I fastened her cloak, and she almost panted to be gone.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, as I went towards our part of the house.

  ‘To the back stairs, milady.’

  ‘Today you are attending me, so the front stairs, Mouse. Take my bag.’ She sailed down the steps, and I followed, the thick carpet like a feather bed compared to the hard treads of our own stairs.

  ‘We shall be back by tea-time,’ milady called in the direction of the servants’ quarters, and waited for me to open the door. Ada was hurrying to do it, but milady waved her off and she stood back, her hands clasped before her, looking straight ahead. She made me uneasy; but once we stepped outside and I closed the door behind us, the feeling vanished. I had left the house, perhaps never to return; I had a little money, and had secured some free time; and I had information from Susan which I could not have hoped for.

  ‘No need to rush, Tom,’ said milady as he helped her up. ‘We have half an hour to catch the train I want. Mouse, do you have the Bradshaw for the journey back?’

  I patted my bag. ‘Yes, milady.’

  ‘Good. Sit up front with Tom.’

  Tom winked at me as he climbed up. ‘Let’s see if we can get there without you turning green, eh?’

  ‘That would be very kind,’ I smiled, but inside my stomach was doing somersaults. We were going to London; milady was going to betray her husband; and I would betray milady.

  CHAPTER 40

  Any advantage I had gained from Tom’s gentler journey to the station was soon lost on the train. I was crammed into third class, without a seat, hanging from a leather strap under the stink of the lamp, and buffeted by draughts from the sides of the carriage. Milady, of course, was in first class. I just hoped I would be able to fight my way out of the train in London and find her, or this whole trip — and possibly my whole mission — would be a dead loss. A man standing near blew a cloud of cigar smoke into my face.

  The houses outside were getting closer and closer together, and I began to elbow my way to the door with the aim of escaping as quickly as possible. A few people swore at me, but I did not care.

  ‘Paddington!’ called the porters. I gripped the door handle as the train slowed, and almost fell onto the platform as people pushed behind me.

  I stumbled out of harm’s way and looked about me. The first-class carriages were at the head of the train, and I walked towards them, seeking milady’s fur cloak and blue dress. She descended carefully from her carriage, waving away the porter who had leapt forward to assist her. ‘I am here, milady,’ I said, hurrying to her side.

  ‘Of course you are, Mouse,’ she said, completely unruffled. ‘Go and hold a cab.’

  I chose the steadiest-looking horse I could see, and presently we were moving again; but away from the main shopping thoroughfares, round the edge of Hyde Park. ‘Where do you plan to shop, milady?’ I asked, as innocently as I could.

  ‘Not here,’ she replied with a short laugh. ‘I have my special order to deal with first.’

  We seemed to be in Belgravia. Cool, smooth, white townhouses, and the occasional tree or church. No costermongers yelled, no hawkers knocked on the doors. The cab rolled to a decorous stop.

  Milady handed me a sovereign. ‘Pay the cabman, Mouse, and give him a tip.’ I did so and then helped her out. She settled her skirts and looked up and down the street. ‘Am I disarranged, Mouse?’

  ‘Not at all, milady.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She consulted her watch. ‘Now, Mouse, you may have two hours to buy whatever hideous things your heart desires, so long as you can still carry my parcels. This is Chiltern Square. You see the church clock there?’

  I nodded.

  ‘What time is it, Mouse?’

  ‘Half past ten, milady.’

  ‘I want you back here — exactly here, by this lamp-post, by half past twelve. If I am not here, you will wait. I think your needs will be best satisfied — certainly for your limited means — in Pimlico, which is that way.’ She waved a dismissive arm. ‘Be off with you!’

  I bobbed a little curtsey and set off in the direction she had indicated. I looked back once, and milady was still standing where I had left her. She flapped a gloved hand at me impatiently, and I hurried on. I did not need to see which house she entered. The address was seared into my brain.

  If I was in Belgravia — which I must be, since Chiltern Square was there, I knew that much — then I was a good two miles from Somerset House. Even in a cab — assuming a Belgravia cab driver would let me on — I might be delayed by traffic. What if Mr Poskitt were out? Or they would not admit me? I glanced at my worn boots, and sighed my exasperation. Two hours was not enough.

  I would find a post office, and send a telegram — but not in Belgravia. I had already been given a suspicious look by a young man in spats, strolling in the direction of Green Park. I kept my pace until I was on the outskirts of Pimlico — then I ran, seeking a pillar box or a sign for a post office. A flash of red a few yards further on — oh, let it be — yes, it was! I paused, gasping for breath, before going in.

  There was a queue of two in front of me. I composed and recomposed in my head the message I would send, and checked my bag for money. At last it was my turn, and I stepped forward. ‘I need to send an urgent telegram.’

  The clerk passed a form over the count
er, with a pencil. ‘Come back when you’ve filled it in, madam.’

  I took the form to a nearby ledge. Mr Poskitt, Somerset House, Strand, WC1, I wrote in the To box. From was more difficult, and I decided to leave it while I wrote my message.

  Urgent Queen has secrets STOP With Moriarty 45 Chiltern Square till 12.30 STOP At —

  I took the form back to the counter. ‘Which post office is this, please?’

  ‘Belgrave Road,’ said the clerk crisply.

  ‘Thank you.’ I added Belgrave Road PO STOP Please advise, and wrote in the From box Queen/Mercury.

  The clerk took the form and counted. ‘One shilling. Is an answer required, madam?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I said, sliding a shilling across the counter to him. ‘I’ll wait.’

  A couple of minutes later the clerk was back behind the counter and serving the next customer. I tried not to fidget. When the customer had gone, the clerk flashed me a kindly smile. ‘Your telegram will have been sent by now, madam.’ I nodded my thanks and looked at the clock above his head. Ten minutes to eleven already. Milady would be with Professor Moriarty, smiling her slow smile. She had spoken of a special order; what would she get in return for her gift?

  I started at a cough from the desk. The clerk was eyeing me. ‘Excuse me, madam, but do you answer to … Queen Mercury?’ He pronounced the words as if he might break them.

  I came to the counter. ‘I do.’

  ‘Then I have an answer for you.’

  I took the piece of paper, on which was scribbled Wait outside coming now P. ‘Thank you, thank you!’ I cried, and almost fell over my own feet in my haste to leave.

  I scanned the street. How quickly could they reach me? And how would they come? I remembered Mr Poskitt’s plain carriage — would he take that, or jump in a cab? I watched every fast-moving vehicle, but none stopped. I knew that it would take even the fastest cab fifteen minutes to come from Somerset House, and that assumed Mr Poskitt could hail one right away.